In his room, when he turned off the light and went to sleep it was pitch dark.
Unlike Sonia, he preferred to sleep in absolute darkness. Two years of evening work at the bar made him adopt these sleep habits. After the natural light of day, and the artificial lights of the long night at the bar, once he got home, it was nice to be able to close his eyes and stay in the dark. It was also nice to open his eyes for a second and still be in the dark. He had few hours to rest at night, and those few hours had to be night. Deep night.
But until then he had never felt that unsteadiness, in his sleep; that feeling of being precariously balanced on the edge of a rock, like a very high trampoline on a black and wavy sea, which he felt but couldnt see, because it was totally immersed in the dark night, no moon, no stars.
He could distinctly hear the roar of the waves, he felt his face being whipped by the wind and he knew that his body was wavering on an unstable surface, insecure over that horrible abyss.
He couldnt open his eyes. He was trying to move the muscles of his eyelids, which were so heavy they overcame all his efforts. He was aware of the fact that, if he opened his eyes, he would still be in the dark, but in his room. He knew it, therefore he was between sleep and wakefulness, but he felt as though he was hypnotized. Surrendering to that feeling, he felt the urge to let himself fall into space, for he realized that it would be an imaginary jump, and he was sure that through that leap he would finally wake up. But could he be sure of it?
At last, a man from behind took his hand, held it and miraculously pulled him back, saving him from falling off the cliff. Massimo didnt have time to see his face because he woke up.
Good news doesnt always herald good dreams. And even the opposite isnt true.
Part five (Giorgio)
When Sonia went back to sleep, that same Saturday, her nightmare was soon followed by other thoughts and dreams, luckily less troubling, and it vanished like a vague and clouded memory.
Sunday morning she woke up in a good mood, and she switched the alarm button on to radio mode, already tuned to her favourite frequency: Radio Italia solo Musica Italiana [a radio channel which plays only Italian music]. In doing so, she felt the usual satisfaction, for she beat the clock, anticipating the ring. Maybe she had never even heard that sound, except for the first time, in order to set the volume.
Sonia had an inner timer, if she had to get up at a certain hour; she did it automatically, as if she had set within herself a very reliable and accurate mental alarm.
The radio seemed to make fun of her, for at that moment they were playing Vendittis song: ...What a nice Sunday, spent at home waiting, but the phone wont ring anymore, and your boyfriend ran off...
Thats not true, my boyfriend will call me, you can be sure of that! Said Sonia, yawning.
As a matter of fact, she didnt have time to finish her breakfast and the phone rang, contrary to the singer Vendittis predictions.
Good morning! Giorgio greeted her from the other end.
Hi Giogiò, did you sleep well? Answered Sonia, almost choking on the toasted bread she was chewing.
Yes... Im leaving the house now; Ill be at your place in twenty minutes, start inflating the wheels of your bike!
Hmm... No, Ill wait for you. I dont feel like pumping so early in the morning! She laughed mischievously.
Hahahaha! It wouldnt hurt you! All right, Im on my way! He hung up, already excited.
Twenty minutes for Giorgio were five minutes for Sonia. A ridiculously short time to dress, put her make-up on, make her bed and clear away the breakfast table. The morning was sunny. Being so warm already at that hour in the morning, she could wear a pair of khaki-coloured shorts, a green polo, of a fairly consistent fabric, so her breasts wouldnt show, a pair of tennis shoes and a colourful clip to hold her hair back. A little eye shadow to contrast with her brown eyes, a dab of foundation and mascara, a coat of lip gloss, a spray of Bulgari perfume on her neck, wrists and she was ready.
Her bike was on the terrace. She checked the condition of the wheels and they seemed okay. She had already prepared a couple of sandwiches and drinks and put the parcel in her front basket.
She pulled the bike onto the landing, while Giorgio rang the intercom.
Giorgio, can you come up and get my bike please? Sonia pleaded as she opened the door.
With his athletic physique, Giorgio climbed the four flights of stairs taking the steps two by two. His lock of long golden blond hair, swayed at every hop. He wore sportswear, shorts and a white shirt with an unbuttoned Korean collar, ankle socks, running shoes, and on his wrist a gold Rolex. He had locked his Mountain Bike to the light pole in the street. Just to put the lock on, (Sonia thought), it must have taken him five minutes, knowing him, the lock and his precious Giant bike.
Sonia could smell the scent of the Armani fragrance Acqua di Giò, while he was still on the third flight of stairs.
Giorgio knew how to dress, but always exaggerated with perfumes, deodorants and aftershaves. Anyhow he had no intention to save on such products. His parents were the owners of one of the most sought after perfume shop in Florence.
They made a lot of money. Giorgio was used to a worldly life since he was a boy, for he grew up between private parties in prestigious villas, fashion shows where his fathers company logo was omnipresent as official sponsor and important gatherings to which the whole family attended, including Buddy the bulldog that everyone feared, not for his bite but for his drool.
Giorgio was a handsome guy. He was rich, (and this made him even more handsome), well-educated, (sometimes unbearably so), gracious, (sometimes...).
But he was empty. Yes, empty like an empty Nutella jar. Or rather, like an already labelled jar, left-over by Nutellas manufacturer.
Sonia often wondered if she had ever even gotten a whiff of that chocolate hazelnut cream. However, she was content. It was a nice jar after all, she would have filled it with something, and she would find a way to do it.
The jar tumbled into her house, while Sonia was putting her electronic cigarette into her backpack.
Im here!...Whats that? The jar... Giorgio asked Sonia, (without panting).
My electronic cigarette! I bought it a while ago, from that shop nearby. It works, you know.
Does that mean that you've decided to quit smoking? Giorgio asked, intrigued to the point that he stuck his head into the backpack to see that thing better.
Well, at least Ill try. Shall we go? Meanwhile she kissed him on the lips.
Bring the bike downstairs, then we can talk, I have some things to tell you.
Actually, Sonia was not so sure she wanted to tell Giorgio of her tests, not today at least, not during a nice bike ride.
But she had to do it anyway. It was her boyfriends right to know about it. Giogiò, (as she called him), would have been hurt if she had kept it hidden from him, even just for a few days, or even worse if he had heard it from someone else.
They had been going out for about six months, since they met in his fathers perfume shop, where she shopped every once in a while. He liked her for her kindness and her refined elegance; it was almost as if she belonged to another era. She was testing the new Cavalli line, when he came up to her to suggest a fragrance, (which she ended up buying). So he was a man who knew her tastes. They spoke only two words, maybe three, one by her and two by him. Giorgio was the most loquacious between the two of them. It took only a lunch date at the Sushi bar in the centre, then a dinner date in Greve in Chianti. A candle and a good bottle of Chianti wine was enough to bring them together, eye to eye, hand in hand.