Until she heard a loud clatter of metal, the sound of falling iron, and was suddenly released, free to breathe, at last at peace. Maddalena had stumbled backward into the line of mopeds and scooters and had fallen to the ground, taking with her a green Boxer. And now there she lay still, while a greasy wheel with rusty spokes was still spinning and a heavy frame and a set of handlebars pinned her in place.
Babi felt a surge of rage rise within her suddenly, like a tidal wave. She felt her face redden, her breath grow ragged, her cheekbone still stinging, and the ache all over her scalp—and in the blink of an eye, she was all over Maddalena. She started punching her and kicking her like a wild animal, unrecognizable to those who knew her.
Maddalena tried to get to her feet but Babi leaned over her and pounded her with her fists, striking everywhere, screaming, scratching, yanking her hair, and drawing long, jagged lines of blood down her neck.
Then two powerful hands grabbed Babi from behind and lifted her into the air. She suddenly found herself kicking her feet, writhing to escape in an attempt to go back on the attack, back to biting and wounding. As she was pulled back, one last accurate kick lashed out, though not with that precise target in mind, and hit another moped. An SH 50 tumbled over slowly next to Maddalena, who lay panting in exhaustion.
“Oh, my scooter…,” one innocent voice called in dismay.
As she was being dragged away, Babi looked at the crowd. They weren’t laughing now. Now they stood silent, staring at her. They parted to let her through. She let herself fall back, abandoning herself to the one carrying her off. And a nervous laugh rose from her lips toward the sky but she heard nothing coming out of her mouth.
A cool breeze was caressing her face, so she shut her eyes. Her head was spinning. Her heart was racing. Her breathing was ragged, and violent surges of rage rushed through her from time to time, only beginning to subside. Something underneath her came to a halt. She was on the motorcycle.
Step helped her off. “Come here.”
They were on the Corso di Francia bridge. She climbed the steps and went over to the drinking fountain.
Step got his bandanna wet and placed it on her face. “Is that better?”
Babi shut her eyes. The cool wet cloth felt good on her reddened skin, on her bruised cheek, on her still-swollen face. She nodded her head.
Step sat down on the low wall nearby, his legs wide, feet dangling. He sat there smiling as he looked at her. “Who were you again? The one who hated brawlers? Violent thugs? Well, that’s good! I mean, if I hadn’t got you out of there, you’d have murdered that poor girl.”
Babi looked at him. She took a step toward him and then burst into tears. Suddenly, in a convulsive fashion, it was as if something had suddenly broken in her, and that river of tears had just burst forth, untamable and violent, relentless.
Step suddenly found himself holding those small, soft shoulders, racked with powerful gasps of sobbing. He stood there, staring at her, spreading both hands wide, not sure what to do. Then he hugged her close. “Come on, don’t be like this. It’s not your fault. She provoked you.”
“I didn’t want to hit her. I didn’t want to hurt her. Seriously…I didn’t want to.”
“Yes, I know.”
Step put a hand under her chin. He caught one tiny, salty tear, and then he tilted her face upward. Babi opened her eyes, sniffing and blinking, smiling and then laughing, still on edge. Sobbing slightly, she looked up at him. He smiled at her, doing his best to calm her.
Slowly, he leaned close and then kissed her on the mouth. It seemed even softer than usual, warm and submissive. And she gave in to that kiss, seeking comfort from it, at first gently and then harder and harder, desperately, until she buried her face in his neck. And he felt her wet cheeks, her cool skin, her tiny, racking sobs hidden against him.
“That’s enough now.” He pushed her away a little. “Come on, don’t be like this.” Step climbed up onto the low wall and looked over. “If you don’t stop crying, I’ll jump. I’m not kidding…”
He took a few precarious steps along the edge of the marble walls. He spread his arms wide, trying to keep his balance. “All right then. Are you going to stop or do I have to jump?”
He was walking along, putting one foot in front of the other, wobbling dangerously. Many yards below, the river ran calm and dark, the black water painted by the night, the banks covered with bushes.
Babi watched him, worried, but still weeping. “Please stop…don’t do that.”
“Then you quit crying!”
“I can’t help it…”
“Then farewell, cruel world…” Step jumped in the air and with a shout went over the side.
Babi ran to the edge of the wall. “Step!” She looked down. She couldn’t see a thing, only the slow current of the river, rolling along.
“Booooo!” Step emerged from under the wall and grabbed her by the lapels of her jacket. Babi shrieked.
“You fell for it, didn’t you?” He kissed her.
“Oh, this is the last thing I needed. Look at the shape I’m in, and you decide it’s time to play practical jokes?”
“I did it on purpose. A good scare is exactly what you needed.”
“That’s just for hiccups.”
“Well, it sure sounded like you had the hiccups, you know that? Come on, come here.” He helped her over the low wall.
They found themselves outside of the bridge itself, suspended in the darkness of a small marble cornice. Far below that ledge was the river, and a short distance away was the brightly lit Via Olimpica. Then, enveloped in the darkness and the slow whispering of the river’s current, they kissed again, passionately, with a surge of desire.
Step lifted her T-shirt and touched her breasts, freeing them. Then he undid his own shirt and pressed his smooth flesh against her chest. They remained there, breathing in each other’s warmth, listening to each other’s heartbeat, feeling their skin brush together, wrapped in the cool night breeze.
Later, sitting on the edge of the low marble wall, they looked up at the sky and the stars. Babi lay down, resting her head on Step’s legs. She stayed there for a while, in silence. Now she was calm and relaxed while he brushed her hair back off her face.
Looking around, she spotted a piece of graffiti that struck her fancy. “You’d never do anything like that for me, would you? You’d never write here on the side of the bridge.”
Step understood what she was referring to. Right in front of them, a brokenhearted spray can had etched its words of love, in English, just to be more romantic: Bambi, I love you.
“That’s true. I don’t even know how to spell, according to you.”
“Well, maybe you could find someone who knows how and tell them what you want written.” Babi tipped her head back, smiling back at him.
“And anyway, I’d write something like that, which seems better suited to you.”
Babi looked at the words that Step was pointing to. On a white column right in front of them was a piece of graffiti to which someone had added a brash insert: Sophia’s ass is Europe’s second finest. Second had been added with a small arrow.
Step smiled. “That’s a much more sincere piece of writing. Especially because yours is without a doubt the finest.”