And the girl full of anger who wanted to catch the train, who wanted to flee, to slip down the stairs unexpectedly without being seen, began to dissolve. She was carried away like witches by the smoke. She went up an imaginary chimney and was swept away by the wind, was slowly picked apart until nothing was left. What remained, all curled up, was a girl without troubles, without agitation, a girl unaware that she was tyrannically imprisoned within four walls and a ceiling of tenderness.
AFTERNOON AT THE CINEMA
Sunday, 2 June
Ramon and I went to the Rialto this afternoon. We had quarreled earlier, and I was almost in tears when he was buying the tickets. It was over something stupid, I know. It started like this. I went to bed last night at one o’clock. I stayed up past twelve because of the electric blue thread I misplaced, and without the thread I couldn’t finish the smocking. And Mamà was in a bad mood. “You never pay attention to where you put things, just like your father.” Which only made me more nervous. Papà gave her an irritated look from the table, and then he went back to staring into a hand mirror he had propped up against a wine bottle and picking the blackheads from his nose. I finally found the thread and could finish the smocking. But I still had to iron the skirt and blouse. I was exhausted when I got in bed, and I thought about Ramon for a while till I fell asleep. When he rang today after lunch I was already dressed; I even had three roses in my hair. He stormed in like he was crazy and didn’t even glance at my skirt and blouse — and all that work to iron them. He went straight to Papà, who was sitting in the rocking chair half asleep, and said, “Figueres says it’s better for us not to give our names. Just as I thought: They tricked you.” Papà opened one eye, immediately closed it again, and started rocking. But Ramon kept on talking, as if he didn’t see he was annoying Papà, saying the refugees should do this or that, and all that time he never even looked at me. Finally he said, “Let’s go, Caterina,” and he took me by the arm and we left. I said to him, “You always say things to upset him. You’re so annoying.” But that’s nothing. We were half way there and weren’t talking and suddenly he let go of my arm. Oh, but I immediately saw what was happening: Roser was coming toward us on our side of the street. He always says he and Roser just fooled around a little. Sure, just fooled around. But he let go of my arm. She walked by all tense, not even looking at us. I said to him, “It looks like she’s your fiancée instead of me.” (I just noticed I wrote this part without any breaks and the mestressa always used to tell me to stop every now and then and start a new paragraph. But since I’m only writing this for me, it doesn’t matter.)
Well, I felt like crying while he was buying the tickets, and the bell to start the movie made me even sadder. I felt like crying because I love Ramon and I like it when he has that smell of aftershave the days he goes to the barber to get his hair cut, but I like it even more when his hair is long and he looks like Tarzan from the side. I know I’ll get married, because I’m pretty, but I want to marry him. Mamà always says he’ll end up in Guyana with all that black market stuff. But he won’t be doing it forever and he says this way we can get married sooner. Maybe he’s right.
We sat down without saying anything; the room smelled like disinfectant. First they showed a news reeclass="underline" a girl skated, then there were lots of bicycles and then four or five men seated around a table. At that point he started to whistle and stomp his feet like he was crazy. The man in front of us turned around and they argued till it was over. After that there was a movie with puppets I didn’t like at alclass="underline" there were all these talking cows. At intermission we went to the bar and drank a Pampre d’Or and he ran into a friend who asked him if he had any Nylons and packs of Camels and he answered he’d have some next week because he was going to Le Havre. I worry a lot when he’s away because even if I don’t say it I’m always afraid they’ll catch him and handcuff him.
On account of the black market we missed the first part and when we were about to sit down everyone complained because the wooden soles on my shoes make a lot of noise even if I walk slowly. The couple in the movie was really in love. I can see we’re not in love like that. There was a woman spy and a soldier and at the end they were both shot. Movies are lovely because if the ones in love are miserable then you suffer a bit but you think everything will turn out for the best, but when I’m miserable I never know if things will end well. And if sometimes things end badly, like today, everybody’s sad, thinking what a pity. The days I’m really desperate it’s worse, because no one knows. And if they knew, they’d laugh. When the saddest part came, he put his arm around my shoulder and then we weren’t upset any more. I told him, “Don’t go to Le Havre this week,” and the lady behind us said, “Shhhh.”
Now that I’ve read what I just wrote, I can see this isn’t exactly what I wanted to say. This always happens to me: I explain things that at the time seem important and later I see they aren’t at all. For example, all that about the blue thread I couldn’t find last night. And then, if anyone were to read this diary they’d say I think Ramon doesn’t love me and I do think he loves me even though it seems like he only thinks about buying and selling a lot of junk. But this still isn’t exactly what I wanted to say. What I’d like to be able to explain is, even though I’m almost always sad, down deep I’m happy. If anyone reads this, they’ll really laugh. I know I’m a bit naïve and Papà always tells me Ramon’s a fool, and finally that’s what makes me saddest because I think the two of us will be miserable. But, really. .
ICE CREAM
“Here you are, which do you want: lemon-yellow or rose-pink?”
He had bought two ice creams, and he was offering them to her with a sad look on his face. The woman at the cart pocketed the money he had just handed her and was already serving other customers, all the while calling out: “Best ice cream in town.”
It was always the same: As the moment of parting approached, it seemed as if a bucket of sadness was being poured over him, and he would hardly utter a word during the time they had left together.
As the long afternoon was just beginning to unfold before them, he had sat beside her in the park, beneath the whispering trees and the splendor of the sun, happy and communicative. The band played the Lohengrin prelude, and they listened to it religiously, hand in hand. The ducks and a pair of straight-necked swans floated, as if made of plastic, across the blue-crystal lake. The men, women, and children seemed like walking, smiling figurines that were moved by some delicate mechanism in an artificial landscape made for real men.
As the sun began to set, they sat on a green bench beneath the damp shade of a linden tree, and filled with a mixture of shyness and emotion, he presented the engagement ring to her: a small diamond with a clearly visible imperfection. “Swear to me you’ll never take it off.” She spread her fingers to look at it, stretched her arm out, and turned her hand from side to side. With secret regret she thought about her hand only a moment before, without a ring, nimble and free. Her eyes welled up.
They left the park and were walking arm in arm, toward the entrance to the metro.
“Here, take the rose.”
She took it and felt her legs grow weak. They walked a few steps. “Rose, rose. .” Suddenly she trembled and a blush swept over her, all the way up to her hairline.
“Oh, the ice cream.” She had let it drop on purpose to hide her agitation.