“Step…I’m seeing another guy.”
He’d remained silent, struck harder than ever before in his life, a life that had suffered thousands of punches, injuries, falls, headbutts to the face, bites, and hanks of hair ripped out of his scalp. At last, struggling, he’d managed to summon his voice. He’d found it there, at the bottom of his heart, and he’d forced it to come out, gaining some modicum of self-control.
“I hope he makes you happy.”
Then that was all. Only silence remained. The telephone receiver hung up, put back in its place, mute now. This can’t be. It’s a nightmare. Wishing he could travel back in time and, right before hearing the news, hover and remain there, halting time and stopping his own life, never to advance another second. Caught in a magical, terrible equilibrium.
He’d lain there, alone in his bed, a prisoner of his own mind, of hypotheses, vague, formless ideas. He imagined her in the arms of someone else. Faces of people glimpsed, possible lovers appeared and mingled, swapping noses, eyes, mouths, bodies. Her face, close to the face of some imaginary man who was still, unfortunately, all too real.
Step felt a hot shiver run through his body, and he trembled slightly. Then he got off his motorcycle and started strolling. There was something in a shop that he liked. He went in to buy it. When he came back out, he felt like he was dying. A Lancia Thema went by, right in front of him. But not so fast that their eyes didn’t have time to meet. At that moment, their eyes told each other everything, suffering deeply, and this time, once again, together. Babi was right there, behind that electric-powered car window.
They maintained eye contact for a little while longer, with their old memories and with a new, added sadness. Then Babi vanished into the apartment building.
He remained there, walking slowly toward his motorcycle, thinking as he went. He couldn’t say what it was he was feeling. Babi was there, close to him, in that home where they’d spent afternoons and clandestine nights when her folks were out. But now that other guy was beside her. Who the fuck was he? What did he have to do with her life? Why?
He sat down on his motorcycle. He’d wait for him. He remembered everything Babi had always told him. “I hate violence. So if you continue doing whatever you want, we won’t be together much longer, I swear it.”
He’d accepted her demands. “All right, I’ll change.”
Like that time at Club Classico. A guy had bothered her—he’d asked someone else to tell him her name, and then he’d called out to her from his table: “Babi! Come on over here. Sit with us.” He was acting the clown with his friends, the idiot.
Step hadn’t batted an eye. He’d stood beside her, calm and smiling. He’d finished his beer in silence.
At that point, Babi had leaned toward him and whispered in his ear, “I love you! Shall we go to my house?” Instead they’d gotten no further than making out for a while outside the front door downstairs. Unfortunately, her folks had come back early.
Babi had complimented him. “There, that’s the way I like you. You were so good, you didn’t fight with that idiot. You’ve changed. You seem like another person.”
He’d smiled at her and walked her upstairs to her apartment door. He’d waited for it to shut behind her, and then he’d hurled himself down the stairs, leaped onto his motorcycle, and raced to Club Classico.
The idiot never even knew where that fist came from. He’d found himself outside the club, over by the drinking fountain with his friends, but now with a broken nose, laid open like a grapefruit. He was sobbing. He no longer felt so much like being a smart-ass now.
Step had driven home and gone to bed. He couldn’t have gotten a wink of sleep with the thought of that guy having so much fun acting the fool with his girlfriend, but now that buffoon had paid the price, so Step fell asleep peacefully. He didn’t like being that other person. And Babi would never know about it. As far as she knew, he’d changed, and he was no longer a violent thug.
But now it was the state of things that had changed. They were no longer together. He had no reason to hide anymore. He no longer needed to be someone else. He could be himself, whenever and however he wished. He was free now. Violent and alone. Again.
The Lancia Thema was exiting the building. It waited for the gate arm to rise and then drove out onto the street.
Step started his motorcycle and put it in first. He drove fast off the sidewalk and followed the car. The guy was alone, and he was driving fast. Step poured on the gas. At the stop sign, he’ll have to stop.
Before Via Jacini there was traffic, cars in line, brake lights. The Lancia Thema stopped. Step smiled and pulled up next to the car. He started to get off the motorcycle but just then he understood. What good would it do to smash his face in, see his blood, hear his moans of pain? What good would it do to kick him across the pavement and shatter his car windows, ramming his head through the glass? Could that possibly bring him new happy days with Babi, bring back her loving eyes, her wild enthusiasm? All it would do is help him to sleep with some satisfaction that night. And maybe not even that…
He already thought he could hear her words. “You see? I was right about you. You’re just a violent thug. You’ll never change!”
And so, without even looking inside, Step revved the engine and passed the car calmly, a free man on his motorcycle, weaving in and out of traffic on this major holiday. Alone, without curiosity, without anger.
He continued accelerating, feeling the cold wind on his face and the night air slip under his jacket.
You see, Babi, it’s not the way you think. I have changed. And anyway, as we know, everyone’s a little kinder at Christmas.
Chapter 35
Step walked into the apartment and crossed the living room. Then suddenly he stopped. From the next room came the cheerful sound of someone singing. He opened the kitchen door, and there was Paolo, standing at the stove, busy with the pots and pans.
When he saw Step, he smiled at him. “Hey, nice to see you. I was afraid you’d never come back! Are you ready for this fabulous Christmas banquet?”
Step was in no mood for joking around, but he was also happy to see that his brother had forgiven their quarrel from the night before.
“What are you doing here? Weren’t you supposed to have dinner with Manuela?”
“I put that commitment off. I’d prefer to spend the night with my brother. But let’s have an understanding. Even if the meal isn’t any good, you leave my glasses alone.”
Paolo reached into his jacket breast pocket and pulled out a pair of brand-new eyeglasses. “I won’t tell you how much these cost, otherwise you’ll say that I only ever think about money. Anyway, it’s really true, before Christmas the shopkeepers really gouge you on the prices.”
Paolo set down an enormous bowl of salad with arugula, Parmesan cheese, and bits of light-colored mushrooms. “Et voilà! French cuisine!”
Step noticed that Paolo was wearing a normal white apron. The flowered apron that Babi had given him was hanging up next to the sink. He wondered what his brother had thought about that.
“All kidding aside, why aren’t you having dinner with Manuela?”
“What is this tonight, the third degree? It’s Christmas, we ought to be happy. Let’s talk about something else. It’s not a happy subject.”