I dashed down the stairs, just as I was, in shorts and a pullover. Yet when I opened the door, I suddenly stopped in my tracks. Should I run up to him and give him a big hug or just smile and thank him with a handshake? I remained motionless in the doorway, and he realized I wouldn't approach him if I didn't have some sort of signal. So he gave me one.
"You look like a frightened chick. Forgive my in-trusiveness, but I was overwhelmed."
He embraced me gently, while I kept my arms at my sides. I couldn't imitate his gesture.
"Melissa, would you allow me to invite you to supper this evening?"
I nodded my consent and smiled. Then I sweetly kissed his cheek and went back inside.
"Who was he?" my mother asked, supercurious.
I shrugged. "Nobody, Mamma, nobody."
12:45 P.M.
We spoke about ourselves. We talked about more than I had expected to say and hear. He's twenty and studies modern literature. His face has an animated, intelligent look that makes him incredibly attractive. I listened to him attentively; I liked watching him speak. I feel a flutter in my throat, my stomach. I feel as if I were bent back upon myself, like the stem of a flower, although I haven't snapped yet. Claudio is gentle, calm, reassuring. He told me he has experienced love, but it slipped from his hands.
He ran a finger around the rim of his glass and asked, "What about you? What can you tell me about yourself?"
I opened up. A tiny gleam of light tore through the dense fog that enveloped my soul. I told him a bit about me, about my unhappy affairs, but I did no more than glance at my desire to find and uncover true feeling.
He gazed at me with attentive, sad, serious eyes and said, "I'm glad you've told me about your past. It reinforces the idea I'd formed of you."
"What idea?" I asked, fearful that he might accuse me of being too easy.
"That you're a girl-excuse me, a woman-who has gone through certain situations to arrive at what she is, to assume an outlook and absorb it so deeply. Melissa, I've never met a woman like you. I've gone from feeling an affectionate tenderness to experiencing a mysterious, irresistable fascination." His conversation was broken by long silences, during which he offered me his eyes and then resumed.
I smiled and said, "You still don't know me well enough to say that. You couldn't possibly have experienced all the feelings you've mentioned-maybe one of them, or none."
"But it's true," he said after listening to me carefully. "I want to try to get to know you. Will you allow me?"
"Of course I'll let you!" I said, grabbing his hand from the table.
I felt as if I were in a dream, Diary, a most beautiful, endless dream.
1:20 A.M.
I just received a message from Valerio, who says he wants to see me. The thought of him has now receded into the distance. I know that all I need to do is make love with the Prof one last time to be sure of what I really want and what Melissa really is, whether a monster or someone who is truly capable of giving and receiving love.
10 June 2002
Fabulous: school is over! This year the results have been rather disappointing, I didn't apply myself very much, and my teachers didn't make an effort to understand me. Nonetheless, I did merit promotion. They stopped short of destroying me for good.
This afternoon I saw Valerio. He asked me to meet him at Bar Epoca. I rushed to get there, thinking it would be an opportunity to find out what I really wanted. When I arrived, I slammed on the brakes and left skid marks on the asphalt, drawing everyone's attention. Valerio was sitting at a table by himself, watching me, smiling and shaking his head at my every movement. I tried to appear nonchalant, walking slowly and assuming a serious expression.
I headed toward his table, swaying my hips, and when I got close to him, he told me, "Lo, didn't you see how everyone looked at you as you walked over?"
I shook my head no.
"I rarely pay attention to the looks."
A man came up behind Valerio. He had a mysterious, somewhat crusty air. He introduced himself to me, saying his name was Flavio. I scrutinized him carefully, but he cut off my investigation by remarking, "Your girl's eyes are too beautiful and too sly for someone her age."
I didn't let Valerio respond. "You're right, Flavio. So, are we going to be a threesome or will others join us?" I cut to the chase, Diary. I can't bother with smiles and pleasantries when there's only one item on the agenda.
Slightly embarrassed, Flavio looked at Valerio and said, "She's skittish, but you should listen to what she says."
"Look, Melissa," Flavio continued, "Valerio and I intended to include you in a particular kind of soiree. He told me about you. I was a bit taken aback by your age, but after seeing what you're like… well, I've given in, and I'm curious to see you in action."
I said simply, "How old are you, Flavio?"
He said he was thirty-five. I nodded. I thought he might have been older, but I believed him.
"When is this particular soiree?" I asked.
"Next Saturday, at 10 p.m., in a villa by the sea. I'll come to fetch you… with Valerio, of course, and-"
"If I should agree," I interrupted him.
"Certainly, if you should agree."
A few seconds of silence. Then I asked, "Do I have to wear something special?"
"It's best if your age isn't too noticeable," answered Flavio. "Everyone thinks you're eighteen."
"Everyone? How many are there?" I asked, turning toward Valerio.
"We don't know the exact number. Five couples for sure. Other people may show up, but at this point we can't say."
I decided to participate. I feel sorry for Claudio, but I'm not certain someone like me is capable of loving him. And I don't believe I can make him happy.
15 June 2002
No, I'm not the girl who can make him happy. I don't deserve him. My phone keeps ringing with his calls and messages. And here I am, dropping him. I'm not answering, I'm ignoring him altogether. He'll get fed up and look for happiness elsewhere. So why this fear?
17 June 2002
In silence, amid sporadic chitchat, we headed for the place that had been arranged for the gathering. It was a villa outside of the city, on a part of the coast where the rocks break up and turn into sand. The place was deserted, the house set back from the road. We entered through a tall iron gate. I counted the parked cars: there were six of them.
"We've arrived, sweetheart." Flavio really rubs me the wrong way with these terms of endearment. Who the hell does he think he is? How can he allow himself to call me sweetheart, darling, little one? I'll strangle him!
The door was opened by a forty-something woman, attractive and perfumed. She looked me up and down and gave an approving glance to Flavio, who smiled faintly. We walked down a long hallway whose walls were hung with large abstract paintings. When we reached the living room, I felt deeply embarrassed: ten pairs of eyes suddenly fastened on me. Most of them belonged to distinguished-looking men who sported ties. Someone was wearing a mask that covered his face, but the others were barefaced. A few women drew near and asked me questions to which I responded with a series of lies rehearsed beforehand with Valerio. The Prof came to my side and whispered, "I can't wait tobegin. I want to lick you, stay inside you all night, and then watch while you do it with the others."
I immediately thought of Claudio's smile: he would never desire to see me in bed with someone else.
Flavio brought me a glass of cream liqueur. It brought to mind that night last December. I went to the piano to think about how I got rid of Roberto a few days ago. I threatened to tell his girlfriend everything if he didn't stop calling me and didn't tell his friends to keep their mouths shut about me. It worked: I haven't heard a peep out of him!
At a certain point, a man about thirty came toward me, walking with such a light step he seemed to be flying. He wore a pair of round glasses. His huge eyes were blue-green, his face pockmarked but handsome.