Элена Ферранте - The Lying Life of Adults

“You leave, too.”

“Where to? To do what? And anyway I don’t want to go. I was born here and I want to stay here.”

“So?”

He tried to explain. He said he had always felt protected by Tonino’s presence, by Giuliana’s, and mainly by Vittoria’s. He muttered: Giannì, I’m like my mother, we’re two people who put up with everything because they don’t know how to do anything and don’t count for anything. But—you want to know something?—as soon as Vittoria goes, I’m taking down that photo of Papa in the kitchen, I’ve never been able to stand it, it scares me, and I already know that my mother will agree.”

I encouraged him to do it, but I also told him that he shouldn’t kid himself, Vittoria would never leave for good, she would return and return and return, ever more aggrieved and ever more unbearable.

“You should go live with Tonino,” I advised him.

“We don’t get along.”

“Tonino is someone who knows how to deal with life.”

“I’m not.”

“Maybe I’ll go to Venice and say hello.”

“Good for you, say hello for me as well and tell him that he thought only of himself and didn’t give a fuck about Mamma, Giuliana, or me.”

I asked for his brother’s address, but he had only the name of the restaurant where he worked. Now that he’d let off some steam he tried to return to his usual mask. He joked, mixing sweet talk with obscene proposals, so that I said laughing: get it through your head, Corrà, nothing else is going to happen between you and me. Then I turned serious and asked for Rosario’s phone number. He looked surprised, he wanted to know if I had decided to fuck his friend. I answered that I didn’t know and since he would have liked a decisive no, he was concerned, he took the tone of an older brother who wanted to protect me from dangerous choices. He went on like that for a while, and I realized that he really didn’t intend to give me the number. Then I threatened him: all right, I’ll find it myself, but I’ll tell Rosario that you’re jealous and wouldn’t give it to me. He capitulated immediately, continuing to mutter: I’ll tell Vittoria and she’ll tell your father, and some nasty things will happen. I smiled, I wanted to give him a kiss on the cheek, I said, as seriously as I could, Corrà, you’d only be doing me a favor, I’m the first to want Vittoria and my father to know, in fact I want you to swear to me that if it happens you’ll certainly tell them. Meanwhile the bus had arrived, and I left him there on the sidewalk, confused.

5.

In the hours that followed I realized I had no urgent need to lose my virginity. Sure, Rosario, for some obscure reasons, sort of attracted me, but I didn’t call him. Instead, I called Ida to see if she had made up her mind to come to Venice with me, and she said she was ready, she had just told Costanza: her mother was happy not to have her around for a while and had given her a lot of money.

Right afterward I called Tonino at the number of the restaurant where he worked. At first, he seemed happy about my plan, but when he found out that Ida was coming he let a few seconds pass, then he said he lived in a small room in Mestre, three of us couldn’t stay there. I replied: Tonì, we’re coming anyway to say hello; then if you want to get together good and if not we’ll survive. He changed his tone, swore he was glad, he’d be expecting us.

Since I had already spent on trains all the money my mother had given me for my birthday when I left for Milan, I bugged her until she gave me some more, this time for my promotion. Now we were all ready to go when, on a morning of light rain and pleasant coolness, Rosario called at nine on the dot. Corrado must have talked to him, because the first thing he said was:

“Giannì, they tell me you’ve finally made up your mind.”

“Where are you.”

“In the bar down below.”

“Down below where?”

“Down below your house. Come down, I’ll wait with the umbrella.”

I wasn’t irritated. Instead, I sensed that everything was getting under way and that ending up pressed against another person on a cool day was better than on a hot day.

“I don’t need your umbrella,” I answered.

“You mean I should go?”

“No.”

“Then come on.”

“Where are you taking me?”

“To Via Manzoni.”

I didn’t comb my hair, didn’t put on makeup, did nothing of what Vittoria had advised, except put on her bracelet. I found Rosario in the entranceway with the usual apparent cheerfulness stamped on his face, but when we ended up in the rainy-day traffic, the worst, he threatened and insulted most of the other drivers, who he claimed were incompetent. I was worried, I said:

“If it’s not the day, Rosà, take me home again.”

“Don’t worry, it’s the day, but look how this shit drives.”

“Calm down.”

“What’s wrong, I’m too crude for you?”

“No.”

“You want to know why I’m nervous?”

“No.”

“Giannì, I’m nervous because I’ve wanted you from the first time I saw you, but I can’t figure out if you want me. What do you say, you want me?”

“Yes. But don’t hurt me.”

“Hurt you? I’ll make you feel good.”

“And you mustn’t take too long, I have things to do.”

“It’ll take the time it takes.”

He found a parking spot right in front of his building, which was at least five stories tall.

“What luck,” I said while, without even locking the car, he set off quickly toward the entrance.

“It’s not luck,” he said, “it’s that they know this is my place and no one better take it.”

“Otherwise?”

“Otherwise I shoot.”

“So you’re a gangster?”

“So you’re a respectable girl who goes to high school?”

I didn’t answer, we climbed the stairs in silence to the fifth floor. I thought that in fifty years, if Roberto and I were much closer friends than now, I would tell him about that afternoon so that he could explain it to me. He knew how to find meaning in everything we do, it was his work, and to hear my father and Mariano he was good at it.

Rosario opened the door, the apartment was completely dark. Wait, he said. He didn’t turn on the light; moving with assurance, he pulled up the shades one after another. The gray light of the rainy day spread through a big empty room, there wasn’t even a chair. I went in and closed the door behind me; I could hear the lashing of rain against the windows and the howling of the wind.

“You can’t see anything,” I said, looking out the windows.

“We chose a bad day.”

“No, it seems like the right day to me.”

He came toward me swiftly, grabbed my neck with one hand, and kissed me, pressing hard on my mouth and trying to open it with his tongue. With the other hand he squeezed one of my breasts. I pushed him back with a slight pressure against his chest, he giggled nervously and snorted through his nose. He retreated, leaving only his hand on my breast.

“What’s wrong?” he asked.

“Do you have to kiss me?”

“You don’t like it?”

“No.”

“All girls like it.”

“Not me, and I’d also prefer you not to touch my breasts. But if you need to, O.K.”

He let go of my breast, muttered:

“I don’t need anything.”

He lowered his fly, pulled out his penis to show me. I was afraid he’d have something enormous in his pants, but I saw with relief that it wasn’t very different from Corrado’s, and besides it seemed to have a more elegant shape. He took my hand and said:

“Touch it.”

I touched it, it was hot as if he had a fever there. Since all in all it was pleasant to squeeze it, I didn’t take my hand away.