Erik Pethersen - The Ball

I scroll forward, and then to the right. The three embossed digits on a brass plate tilted about twenty degrees from the ground, match those ones that I read on their address. I hold down the left button and I position the Google camera towards the top floor, as the tune almost starts to harm my cochlear nerve. Maybe a small apartment used as an office, with Ettore in the kitchen deceiving customers with disproportionate rates, the girl who answers the phone with her desk at the entrance and two thugs working as bill collectors waiting for orders in the bathroom, one in the tub and the other sitting on the toilet.

I am still waiting, thinking back about Ettore’s voice which has always appeared nice and polite to me. It would clash with the picture that I have just made in my mind, perhaps only astounded by the annoying music.

«Ready. Hi Lavinia Sbandofin, how are you? We haven’t been in touch for a long time.»

«Good morning Ettore FinExtreme, everything is fine here, thank you. The reason why I am calling you is that some time ago I asked you for help regarding a mortgage for a person who was unable to show clear guarantees concerning his/her income.»

«Questionable guarantees: yes, I think I understand. More exactly, what is it about?»

«It is a request for a first-time buyer mortgage for a couple: he is unemployed, she has a part-time job, she works flexible hours in a family, working as a housekeeper. Do you still grant this kind of mortgages?»

«In short, she works as a housekeeper for a family of friends?»

«Yes, that’s it, something like that: she’s busy, but you know what friends are like, you do me a favour, I do you a favour, nothing too formal.»

«I see. But what capital are we talking about? And are these friends generous enough?»

«The house costs around 110,000 euros: it is a two-room apartment here in the province of Brescia. Sure, friends are quite generous: in short, I understand that they have a nineteenth-century mentality.»

«A mentality...» Ettore repeats with a slightly perplexed tone. «Ah, you are saying that they are old-fashioned. Old-fashioned as far as the number, of course. But I think I’m not with you: do they have an eight hundred mentality or a one thousand and eight hundred mentality?»

«No. Nineteenth century, not one thousand and eight hundred. Otherwise, I would have said 1800s, don’t you think? The 1800’s mentality would seem to me too generous for a part-time housekeeper.»

«Yes, actually, Lavinia you are right» replies Ettore, giggling. «However, if these are the centuries in question and that is the value of the property, I believe a solution can be found. However, I’ll tell you right away, the rate will certainly not be low.»

«You mean something around 5% all inclusive, Ettore?»

«No, Lavinia, we are no longer able to keep so low: I would say that we are even around 6.5% all inclusive.»

«6.5%? But it’s a lot!»

«We can’t do better now. However, the threshold rate is around 7.5% now and we are well below.»

«Does one percent mean well below your parameters, Ettore?»

«Yes, Lavinia: for my parameters, one percent is a lot: that’s 1,000 euros per 100,000 euros of capital per year.»

«Here, exactly. Anyway, assuming it might be okay, what documents should the couple need get off their friends?»

«They can always sign an agreement in which friends declare to remain friends for at least another twenty or thirty years: a private agreement like this may also be enough. Otherwise, there is always the possibility that they will give them a direct guarantee. This would bring the rate down significantly.»

«Sure, but from experience I know that friends in the end, when it comes to money, they don’t turn out to be such good friends.»

«Yes, Lavinia, you know what they say here in Milan: friends, bloody friends...» says Ettore, interrupting himself and grinning.

«Even here, ninety kilometres away, they say the same» I reply, laughing.

«Then I will send you the details of the property and of the individuals» I continue, «if you draw up a draft, I’ll submit everything to the two people.»

«All right, e-mail me everything. And if the deal goes through, you too can pop over the notary when the deed will be signed, so we can finally meet: it’s been a long time since I’d love to meet your voice in person.»

«Of course: to meet my voice in person, nice expression, I like it! If they get the loan, I’ll see you at the notary, sure: in fact, we have been talking on the phone for about ten years and we’ve never seen each other.»

«You promised, Lavinia Sbandofin: deed at the notary, I’m counting on it.»

«All right Ettore FinExtreme, now I’ll forward everything to you. Bye, have a good day.»

«You too. Bye.»

I hang up the phone, I click on the mail software and, once the cadastral registration is attached, I add a few words referring to the phone call just made. Finally, I choose Ettore’s address from the contact list and send the e-mail.

I click on the yellow icon and move on to the next folder: this is the guy with shaved hair and a bleached mohawk who, at the beginning of yesterday’s brief meeting, also demanded a coffee, convinced that he was able to express the ideas better with a stimulant of some kind in his blood.

Actually his situation was not too complicated to explain: twenty-two, never worked and looking for five thousand euros to go to Thailand for a month with an elusive girl who, at first, seemed to me to live with him in Italy and, a few minutes later, she turned out to be waiting for him for several months in the country of destination. When I suggested him to look for a guarantor who could give him access to some credit, he replied almost whimpering that friends and relatives had completely declined any of his requests. Considering his appearance and his way of speaking, the news of the repeated denials did not surprise me, confirming only my initial decision, taken even before the word coffee: I press the e-mail icon and enter the address in the recipient field that I had saved in the clipboard.

We are sorry, but we have not been able to find any suitable solution to your funding request. Looking forward to meeting you on other future occasions, I wish you a good day.

Lavinia - Sbandofin.

Third folder: the man in his fifties looking for an anonymous lease for the purchase of a car.

⁎⁎⁎⁎⁎⁎⁎

I hear the front door make a faint noise and I look to the far right: I see Maddalena entering, opening a gap of about fifty centimetres, quite enough to let her frail body slide between the jamb and the large shiny steel plate. She closes the door behind her and nods to Serena. She walks along the corridor, disappearing behind the plants, and showing again, after about twenty seconds, under the opening of the glass wall, reaching the desk on my right.

«Hi Maddalena, are you all right?» I ask almost whispering.

«Hi Lavinia, not too bad: I have a terrible headache, I couldn’t even get out of bed this morning.»

«Headaches are horrible» I reply quietly. «But did you take anything for it, like some ibuprofen or paracetamol?»

«No, medicines are poison. I didn’t take anything, God forbid: a few hours and it will go» she replies sourly.

«Yes, time heals everything» I reply smiling.

«There’s nothing to laugh about, anyway.»

«Sorry, Maddalena, I was just saying.»

I reopen Chrome, I start looking for some strange leasing company. I nonchalantly catch a glimpse of Maddalena out of the corner of my eye arranging her bag in the third drawer of the shelf. Before closing the drawer, she takes out his smartphone and places it scrupulously on a stand placed on her desk, just below the monitor: it is a plastic gizmo which I have always disregarded the usefulness, thinking that my phone is quite happy to sit on the flat surface of my desk. She then takes out the usual three small bottles and lines them up to the right of the useless stand, checking that the labels are facing the working position. She closes the drawer and sits down on the chair.