Listen, handsome, Massimiliano begins, that guy is the famous Emmanuel you were raving about in your sleep?
Yes, it's he, admits Gianni.
Oh. And you took him to Merate on a pleasure trip?
We went to take pictures for the exhibition, Massy.
Massimiliano's tone of voice lowers and becomes dark, threatening.
You're making a fool of yourself. You even dyed your hair for him!
I didn't do it for him, Gianni lies, I just didn't want to see myself so gray in the mirror anymore.
Honey, everyone gets older, you know? I've gotten gray, fat, and a little bald, too. But I don't dye my hair like a whore to appeal to minors.
He is not a minor.
Gianni, Christ, you get the idea: he's about twenty, less than half your age. And this guy isn't just a one-night stand, he's fucking with your brains. "
No, it's not just a one-night stand. In fact, I've never fucked him.
And I'm supposed to believe it?
Believe me: I never let him lay his hands on me.
Oh, so he's supposed to be the one to lay his hands on you? Not the other way around? Listen, Gianni, you know the deal perfectly well: a fuck is fine, a love story is not. Fuck him once and then be done with it, tell him to go to hell.
No, Massy, I'm not fucking him. And I don't see why I should tell him to go to hell: he's a good guy.
What the fuck, Gianni, can't you see he's a moron? He looks like a total idiot! That photo with the slippers and poop-colored socks... my God, what an idiotic expression!
Yes, he's a simpleton, no doubt, but a good-hearted one.
Good hearted!... Gianni, open your ears wide: I'll smash that pretty face of yours if you ever see him again. Yes, that pretty face you've managed to keep so well despite your age. You're still almost as cute as when I first met you, you know?
Massy…
"But I'll break your pretty face, Gianni, and I'll break his face too. Stop it. If I see another picture of him around, I'll break both of your faces. I don't want to hear about him anymore, okay?"
Agree.
Rather… that new boy who was with you, the red-haired one… Who is he?
His name is Christian.
Now, that's an interesting guy: intellectual face, ponytail, good-boy blue cardigan, cheap white shirt from the supermarket, round glasses... The prototype of the nerdy college kid. Cute, though.
He's a college student, actually. He's studying art history.
And how did he end up being your assistant?
By chance, I'd say: I'd spread the word that I was looking for someone to act as a secretary at my office, where I've got a real mess by now. You know, keeping things in order isn't my strong point.
Yeah, I know. I have mismatched socks.
Look, Christian keeps my computer tidy and also does the cleaning for me.
Oh, what a nice boy. And how's he in bed?
I have no idea, Massy. I think he's straight: he has a girlfriend and even a child.
A child at his age?
Well yes.
Believe me, that boy is gay. You know I have an uncanny knack for these things.
No, I'm telling you he's not gay. At most, bisexual like you, love.
Anyway, he's a nice little treat. How about we work him over together? You work his hips, and then I'll take over. A good head-to-head fuck, like the old days. Remember the old days, love?
Of course I remember them: how could I forget them?
Their voices become soothing, whispering.
You're still so cute, you know that, little face?
Thank you, Massy. It's you I want to please. You're my great love, you know: my only great love.
You too are my only great love.
A silence, probably filled with a kiss.
Let's go back to the room, come on.
The two of them return to the living room arm in arm. I disappear behind the ficus tree.
The Countess and "Marta" are monopolizing everyone's attention, wandering from one poster to another, commenting on the photos: it's time to take advantage. I advance toward the two pigeons cooing in the corner. I announce myself with a discreet cough.
Doctor Gandolfini.
Gianni turns to look at me, unable to hide his amazement.
If you don't need me anymore, I would go.
You would go… where?
Home.
Gianni, under Massimiliano's inquisitive gaze, blushes and feigns indifference:
Of course, Christian, go ahead. Thanks for your help.
I smile, shake hands with them both, and turn on my heel, heading for the exit.
"Christian!" Gianni exclaims. His tone betrays an emotion he struggles to hide.
I turn around.
Yes, Doctor?
I'll call you later because... because we have to make arrangements for tomorrow. The exhibition lasts a week, and I'll still need you for a lot of things...
“I am at your disposal,” I conclude formally, and turn to leave.
…
"…it's to eat you better!" said the wolf. So saying, the wolf leaped from bed and devoured Little Red Riding Hood.
Wof bad says Martino in a voice thick with sleep.
Yes, the wolf is bad and nasty, but only because he's hungry. Gino is also mean to mice: he eats them.
No, Gino good…
Martino, with his eyes closed, keeps his little hand resting on the cat's back, curled up next to him as always.
After he had eaten, the wolf lay back in bed, fell asleep, and began to snore so loudly that a passing hunter heard him…
Martino is asleep by now. I close the storybook I bought for him, give Gino a caress, and tiptoe away.
Antonia is waiting for me in the living room.
Did he fall asleep?
Yes.
Thanks for telling him a story, Emmanuel: those are things that are good for children, but we're forgetting them, overwhelmed as we are by technology. Martino spends too much time playing with the Sapientino and the electronic games that Michael gave him: luckily you're there to let him play with Lego and tell him fairy tales.
I smile.
I have old-fashioned tastes, you know: I loved it when my grandfather told me fairy tales.
I'm very happy you're telling them to him.
Thanks, Antonia. I'm glad I can do something good, besides causing trouble.
Don't worry about it now: the little foot is healed, thankfully.
I know, but I put him in danger.
That means you'll be more careful next time.
Yeah.
It's late. Do you want to sleep here? Your sofa bed is ready.
Yes, thank you, I'll gladly accept: it's been a tough day.
I'll be by to say goodnight to you in a little while.
Okay.
I'm already under the covers when Antonia, wearing a pretty dark blue lace nightgown, approaches me and leans over me. She smells good, her usual citrusy scent. She places a kiss on my forehead.
Good night. I'm glad you're here.
I'm glad about that too.
She hesitates, doesn't move away. I understand that she wants to lie down next to me, and I make room for her without saying anything.