The man didn’t say anything, he was squinting, the light was intense and the blue of the sea and the sky merged, swallowing the horizon line.
— Perhaps, sir, you didn’t get who I’m referring to, said the girl, breaking the silence.
The man didn’t speak, he kept his eyelids half closed, the young girl seemed to hesitate, drawing squiggles in the sand with her finger.
— I hope you’re not in his party, sir, she went on, as though encouraging herself, at home I was taught that one must always respect others’ opinions, but that guy’s opinion, I don’t like it, am I being clear?
— Perfectly, said the man, one must respect others’ opinions yet not disrespect one’s own, above all not disrespect one’s own, and why don’t you like this guy?
— Oh, well … Isabella seemed to hesitate. Apart from the fact that when he talks on television, he gets some white foam at the corners of his mouth, but this I could forget, the main thing is he swears a lot, I heard him with my own ears, and if he swears, I wonder why they yell at me when I swear, but luckily the president of the republic is more important than him, otherwise he wouldn’t be president of the republic, and he explained to us that we ought to respect the Mameli anthem and sing it like the national team does at the world championship, with our hands on our hearts, at school we sang it together with the president, we read the copies our teacher gave us, but he didn’t read, he knew it by heart, I think that’s awesome, don’t you agree, sir?
— Pretty special, confirmed the man. He dug into the bag he kept next to his beach chair, took out a glass bottle, and put a white pill in his mouth.
— Am I talking too much? she asked, at home they say I talk too much and might annoy people, am I annoying you, sir?
— Not at all, answered the man, what you’re saying is even special, please go on.
— And then the president gave us a history lesson, since as you know, sir, we don’t study modern history at school, in the last year of junior high the really good teachers get us up to World War One, otherwise we don’t make it past Garibaldi and the unification of Italy, but we learned a ton of modern things, because our teacher’s been great great, but the credit should go to the president, because he’s the one who gave the input.
— Who gave the what? asked the man.
— That’s what they say, explained Isabella, it’s a new word, it means someone starts and drags the others along with him, if you want, sir, I’ll repeat what I’ve learned, really a ton of things that not many people know, d’you want to know them?
The man didn’t answer, kept his eyes closed, and was completely still.
— Did you fall asleep, sir? Isabella’s tone was shy, as though disappointed.
— I’m sorry, sir, perhaps I chattered so much I made you fall asleep, it’s also why my parents didn’t want to buy me a cell phone, they claim they’d have to pay an astronomical bill because I talk so much, you know, in our house we can’t afford anything extra, my father is an architect but he works for the municipality, and when you work for the municipality …
— Your father’s a lucky man, said the man, his eyes still closed.
Now he spoke in a low voice, almost a whisper.
— Be that as it may, he continued, the profession of building houses is beautiful, much better than the profession of destroying them.
Isabella gave a little shriek of surprise.
— My god, she exclaimed, there’s a profession of destroying houses? I didn’t know that, they don’t teach that at school.
— Well, said the man, it’s not that it’s really a profession, you can also learn it in theory, like at a military academy, but then moments arrive when a certain knowledge has to be put into practice, and when all’s said and done that’s the goal, to destroy buildings.
— And you, sir, how do you know this? asked Isabella.
— I know it because I’m a soldier, answered the man, or rather I was, now I’m retired, let’s put it that way.
— So, you destroyed buildings, sir?
— What happened to tu? the man replied.
Isabella didn’t answer right away.
— The thing is, I’m naturally shy even if I don’t seem so because I talk too much, I asked you, sir, if you destroyed houses once too.
— Not personally, no, said the man, and neither did my soldiers, to be honest, mine was a war mission for peacekeeping, it’s kind of complicated to explain, especially on a day like this, but, Isabèl, I’d like to tell you one thing that maybe they didn’t tell you at school, in the end the story can be summed up like this: there are men like your father whose profession is to build houses, and men of my profession who destroy them, and things go on like this for centuries, some build houses and others destroy them, build, destroy, build, destroy, it’s a little boring, don’t you think?
— Very boring, answered Isabella, really very boring, imagine if there weren’t ideals, fortunately there are ideals.
— Sure, confirmed the man, fortunately in history there are ideals, who told you this, the president or your teacher?
Isabella seemed to mull this over.
— Now I’m not sure who told me.
— Perhaps the president gave the input, said the man, and what can you tell me about ideals?
— They are all respectable if one believes in them, answered Isabella, for example the patriotic ideal, then maybe someone makes a mistake because he’s young, but if his intentions are good, the ideal is valid.
— Ah, said the man, this is something I need to think about, but it doesn’t seem the right day for it, today is so hot and the sea looks so inviting.
— Then get in the water, she prodded.
— I don’t really feel like it, responded the man.
— That’s because you aren’t motivated, I think your problem is stress, you can’t imagine the negative effect of stress on our spirit, I read it in a book my mother keeps on her bedside table, would you like me to get you something at the hotel bar, something for stress? As long as it’s not a Coke, that I wouldn’t get.
— This you’ll have to explain, you really must, said the man.
— Because Coke and McDonald’s are the ruin of mankind, said Isabella, everybody knows it, at my school even the janitors know it.
The man dug into his bag and took another pill.
— You sure take a lot of stuff, exclaimed Isabella.
— I have an hourly schedule, said the man, my prescription calls for it.
— All these pills can’t be good for you, she stated with conviction, Italians take a ton of pills, they said that on television, what we should be doing instead is tuning our spirit to the positive forces in the universe, that’s why we should avoid certain foods and drinks, because they carry negative energy, they aren’t natural, am I being clear?
— Isabèl, can I tell you something in confidence?
The man wiped his forehead with a handkerchief. He was sweating.
— Coke and McDonald’s never took anybody to Auschwitz, to those extermination camps you must have learned about at school, but ideals did, have you ever thought of that, Isabèl?
— But those were Nazis, objected Isabella, horrible people.