Элена Ферранте - The Lying Life of Adults

“Then read me something else.”

“Really?”

“Yes.”

“There’s one I’ve wanted to read to you for a long time.”

She dug in her bag, she pulled out notebooks and loose pages. She chose a notebook with a red cover, found what she was looking for. It was just a few pages, the story of a long unfulfilled desire. Two sisters had a friend who often slept at their house. The friend was more the friend of the older sister than of the younger. The older waited for the younger to fall asleep to switch to the guest’s bed and sleep with her. The younger tried to fight off sleep, pained by the idea that the two excluded her, but in the end she gave in. One time, though, she had pretended to be asleep, and so, in silence, in solitude, she had listened to their whispers and their kisses. From then on, she had kept on faking it so she could spy on them, and when, finally, the two older girls fell asleep she always wept a little, because it seemed that nobody loved her.

Ida read without emotion, quickly but pronouncing the words precisely. She never looked up from her notebook, she didn’t look me in the face. At the end, she burst out crying, just like the suffering little girl of the story. I looked for a handkerchief, I dried her tears. I kissed her on the mouth even though two mothers were passing nearby, pushing baby carriages and chatting.

3.

The next morning, without even trying to call first, I went straight to Margherita’s with the bracelet. I carefully avoided Vittoria’s house, first because I wanted to see Giuliana in private and second because, after her sudden and surely temporary reconciliation with my father, I seemed to have no more curiosity about her. But it was a pointless tactic, my aunt opened the door, as if Margherita’s house were hers. She greeted me with desolate good humor. Giuliana wasn’t there, Margherita had taken her to the doctor, she was tidying the kitchen.

“But come, come in,” she said, “how pretty you look, keep me company.”

“How’s Giuliana?”

“She’s got a problem with her hair.”

“I know.”

“I know you know, and I also know how you helped her and how you were careful about everything. Good, good, good. Both Giuliana and Roberto love you a lot. I also love you. If your father made you like that, it means he’s not completely the piece of shit he seems.”

“Papa told me you have a new job.”

She was standing beside the sink, behind her was the photo of Enzo with the small lighted lamp. For the first time since I’d been seeing her I perceived a slight embarrassment pass through her eyes.

“A very good one, yes.”

“Are you going to move to Posillipo.”

“Ah, yes.”

“I’m glad.”

“I’m a little sorry. I have to separate from Margherita, Corrado, Giuliana, and I’ve already lost Tonino. Sometimes I think your father did it on purpose, finding me this job. He wants to make me suffer.”

I burst out laughing, but immediately recovered myself.

“Maybe,” I said.

“You don’t believe it?”

“I believe it: you can expect anything from my father.”

She gave me a nasty look.

“Don’t talk like that about your father or I’ll hit you.”

“Sorry.”

“I’m the one who has to speak badly of him, not you, you’re his daughter.”

“All right.”

“Come here, give me a kiss. I love you, even if sometimes you make me mad.”

I kissed her on the cheek, I dug in my purse.

“I brought the bracelet back to Giuliana, it somehow ended up in my purse.”

She blocked my hand.

“What do you mean, somehow. Take it, I know you like it.”

“Now it’s Giuliana’s.”

“Giuliana doesn’t like it, and you do.”

“Why did you give it to her, if she doesn’t like it?”

She looked at me nervously, she seemed uncertain about the sense of my question.

“Are you jealous?”

“No.”

“I gave it to her because I saw that she was anxious. But the bracelet has been yours since you were born.”

“But it wasn’t a bracelet for a small child. Why didn’t you keep it? You could have worn it on Sunday to Mass.”

She gave me a mean look, and exclaimed:

“So now you’re the one who’s supposed to tell me what to do with my mother’s bracelet? Keep it and shut up. Giuliana, if you want to know the truth, doesn’t need it. She’s so full of light that the bracelet or any other piece of jewelry for her is too much. Now she has this problem with her hair, but it’s not serious, the doctor will give her a restorative treatment and it will pass. But you don’t know how to fix yourself up, Giannì, come here.”

She was agitated, as if the kitchen were a close, airless space. She dragged me into Margherita’s bedroom, opened the doors of the wardrobe, I appeared in a long mirror. Vittoria ordered me: look at yourself. I looked, but mainly I saw her behind me. She said: you don’t dress, my dear, you hide yourself in your clothes. She pulled my skirt up around my waist, she exclaimed: look at those thighs, Heavenly Father, and turn around, yes, now that’s an ass. She forced me to turn around, she gave me a violent clap on the underpants, then she made me turn again toward the mirror. Madonna, what a figure—she exclaimed, caressing my hips—you’ve got to get to know yourself, you’ve got to make the most of yourself, your beautiful parts you need to let them be seen. Especially your bosom, oh what a bosom, you don’t know what a girl would do for a bosom like that. You punish it, you’re ashamed of your tits, you lock them up. Look how you should do. And at that point, while I pulled my skirt down, she stuck her hand in the neck of my shirt, first in one cup of my bra, then in the other, and arranged my bosom so that it became a swelling wave, high above the neckline. She was excited: see? We’re beautiful, Giannì, beautiful and smart. We were born well made and we shouldn’t waste ourselves. I want to see you settled even better than Giuliana, you deserve to rise up to the paradise in the heavens, not like that shit your father who’s remained on the earth but acts like he’s so important. But remember: this here—she touched me delicately for a fraction of a second between my legs—this here, I’ve told you countless times, hold it dear. Weigh the pros and cons before you give it, otherwise you’ll go nowhere. Rather, listen to me: if I find out you’ve wasted it, I’ll tell your father, and we’ll beat you to death. Now stop—this time she dug in my purse, took the bracelet, clasped it on my wrist—see how nice you look, see what it does for you?

At that moment, in the background of the mirror, Corrado appeared.

“Hi,” he said.

Vittoria turned, I did, too. She asked him, fanning herself with one hand because of the heat:

“Giannina’s beautiful, isn’t she?”

“Very beautiful.”

4.

I urged Vittoria over and over to say hello to Giuliana for me, to tell her I loved her and she shouldn’t worry about anything, everything would be for the best. Then I started toward the door, expecting Corrado to say: I’ll walk a ways with you. But he was silent, dawdling idly. It was I who said to him:

“Corrà, will you walk me to the bus stop?”

“Yes, go with her,” Vittoria ordered him, and he followed me reluctantly down the stairs, along the street, in the blinding sun.

“What’s wrong?” I asked.

He shrugged, muttered something I didn’t understand, said more clearly that he felt lonely. Tonino had left, Giuliana would get married soon, and Vittoria was about to move to Posillipo, which was another city.

“I’m the idiot of the house, and I have to stay with my mother, who is more of an idiot than me,” he said.