CRAVING U (The Rook Café) (43 page)

He grimaced.  “But not more important than
Matteo.”

“I already told you.”  Marika didn’t want
to have to explain to him that the feelings she had for one of them were
different – not necessarily deeper, but still different – from those that she
had for the other.  “I care so much about you.”  But what he felt for her was,
unfortunately, exactly what she felt for Matteo.  “So much that you are scaring
me right now.  I don’t want to lose you.”

Federico stared at the road in silence,
while drops of dew, which nature uses to dress the bare branches of trees at
dawn, shone in his eyes.  Only it wasn’t condensed water vapor, but hot tears
that sparkled in the waning rays of the sun.

“Say something, anything.  Please.” 
Marika opened the car door impulsively when she saw him do the same thing.  “I’m
sorry I hurt you by the way I acted.  I never wanted to do that.  I was just
being stupid.”  She neared him, unsure of herself, while the drops that had
formed in his eyes threatened to become a tsunami in hers.

He didn’t react.  He stood there, like a
statue, leaning against the side of the car.

“So it’s all over?” 
Could something
that had never started really end?
  “Speak to me, please.  Don’t cut me out
of your life just over a silly mistake.”

He knew she was crying without even
looking at her.  “
A silly mistake?
”  It wasn’t for a mistake that he
wanted to cut her out of his life before it was too late.  “It’s not fair.”  It
was killing him to hear her cry.  “That’s enough.  Stop it!”  He grabbed first
one hand and then the other and pulled her towards him, covering her with
tender kisses and affection.  “Nothing is over,” he reassured her, knowing that
he couldn’t live without her, “absolutely nothing is over.”  Even if that meant
that he would never be anything more than her best friend.

Back home, Marika tried to slip unnoticed
into her room, but she tripped over the corner of the rug in her rush to be
alone with her thoughts and emotions.

“Sweetheart!”  Mission aborted.  “Come
down here, Grandma made a cake.”  Her mother couldn’t wait to begin part two of
the saga,
Mothers and Daughters
.  “Come on, Marika.”

In spite of the “sweetheart,” her tone
didn’t bode well.  “What’s up?” she yelled downstairs.

“Come down here, please.”  Her mother was
now standing at the foot of the stairs.  “I need to talk to you.”

“
What a pain
!”  It was almost
dinner time, and Marika hoped to get through this family encounter before her
usual chat appointment on WhatsApp.  “What?” she said, slowly coming down the
steps.

“Where were you this afternoon?”  She led
her into the kitchen.  “Come on, answer me.”

Her father was still at work, and
hesitation was a weakness that could easily give her away.  “I went for a walk.” 
Marika opened the fridge, hoping to find something inside that would ease the
tension.

“Where?”  She was interrogating her, and
expected clear, simple answers.

“Mom, can we not get started again with
the twenty questions?” she huffed.  “Ask me what you want to know and let’s be
done with it.”

“Watch your tone, young lady.”  Paola had
no intention of being dictated to by her daughter.  “You don’t make the rules
here.”  She took Grandma’s cake from the hutch and cut a piece for Marika.  “You
want some?”  Marika nodded, her mouth watering.  “Fine, no twenty questions. 
We’ll start over from the beginning.  Lately, you’ve been going out too much. 
I don’t like it,” she admitted without mincing her words.  “You should be
studying more.”

“I have already caught up with everything,
and my grades are some of the best in my class.”  She gave full disclosure
about school, even though she had the suspicion that this wasn’t the real
problem.

“I still think you are too young to be
going out so much.”

“Compared to my friends, I’m like a
cloistered nun,” she joked.  After all, she hadn’t been to Marostica in a
while, during the week she only went out a couple of hours after finishing her
homework; and the number of times she went out on the weekends could be counted
on the fingers of one hand.  “What’s the real problem?  You have never complained
about me going out before.”

“Because I knew who you were going out
with!” 
There it was
.  “I don’t recognize you anymore.  I don’t know who
you are, who you go out with....”

“Oh God, Mom, this same old story again?” 
It was so annoying.  “I’ve got new friends, there’s nothing wrong with that.”

“But who are these new friends?”  She
trusted her daughter, but she was also at an age where it was all too easy to
fall in with the wrong crowd and be changed by them.  “Where do they come
from?  What do you know about them?”

“They’re good kids, Mom.”  Marika stood up
and did her best to keep the conversation from taking a sour turn.  “They’re
not from here, but everyone knows them by now, it’s almost like this is their
second home.”  She became more confident.  “I can introduce them to you if it
would make you feel better.”

“Don’t act all high and mighty with me. 
You’re not a child any more and it’s time you started thinking seriously about
your future.”

“Ah, now I’m not a child any more!?” she
said, raising her voice, astonished by her mother’s lack of consistency.  “This
is incredible!”

“You should start thinking about job
possibilities after you graduate from law school.”  Her tone was severe.  “You
could even consider changing your major to something else that is closer to the
family business.  Why don’t you ask your father for some advice?”  He had
gotten his degree in agriculture from the University of Padua back in the dark
ages.  “Or you could think about going to Verona instead.”  Carlotta, for
example, had decided to go to that university after finishing high school so as
not to be so far from Dario, who was staying close to home to manage his family’s
hotel chain.

“I don’t know, Mom, it’s still more than a
year from now.”  She stubbornly pushed away what was left of the cake.  “It’s a
bit early to start arguing about it, don’t you think?”  She didn’t give a damn
about degrees, masters, doctorates, or jobs at that moment, because the only
thing she could think about, the only thing that mattered to her, was Matteo’s
return to Orgiano.

The
San Carlo
try-outs had reached
their end.  It was time for the club to dismiss its cadets and make its final
cuts.  The Serie A team had guaranteed itself a fifth-place finish for the
season, earning a place in the Europa League next year, and in celebration, all
of the players who had participated in the try-outs were invited to sit with
the rest of the youth squad for the last match of the season in the reserved
team section of Broletto Stadium: a municipal stadium on the north side of
Milan that was shared by two local professional soccer clubs:
San Carlo
and
Segnano FC
, which had itself just missed the cut for moving up into
Serie B this year.

May was coming to
a close, and the countdown had ended... Matteo would be coming home the first
days of June to start studying for final exams while he waited to learn his
fate with the
white and blue
, a fate which had been written by Beretta
on the list of those to be called up for the team retreat in Val Seriana.

THE MANY FACES OF LOVE

“Nilton Ramos de
Souza, 18 years old, Brazilian with Italian citizenship, center fullback....” 
The voice belonged to the Athletic Director of
San Carlo Milan
,
Massimiliano Sforza, who was coordinating the session on final cuts for the
youth squad, assisted by the team coach.

“Approved.” It was Beretta who gave the
final decision, based on last-minute discussions with his assistant coach and
the rest of the staff.

“Leandro Ribeiro Gama de Moraes, Brazil,
19 years old in November, center forward....” Sforza went on without pause as
he read the name. “He has passed all of his medical exams, and we have reached
an agreement with the player.”

The team manager took down notes about the
conditions of the contract, the salary that would be paid to the player, and
the sum that would go to the Brazilian team to trade him.

“At midfield, Matteo Zovigo, 19 years old....”
The AD waited to hear the results of Zovigo’s final sessions. “Gentlemen, what
have we decided in terms of this kid?”

“I’m giving myself time to make my final
decision later on.” Beretta was stalling, trying to avoid yet another argument.
“I still have a few last doubts about him, but for the moment he stays.”

“Which is entirely within your rights,”
Braidi cut in, “but I would like everyone present to remember what happened in
the case of Racing Santander, who was never decisive enough with Sergio
Canales, the young Spanish talent, who then passed directly to Real Madrid.”

“I agree.” Sforza was about to call the
meeting to a close. “I duly note that the club management is interested in
pursuing a recruiting policy that looks to the future, and to inserting its
payers eventually into the Serie A squad.” He looked back and forth between
Beretta and Braidi.  “That’s all for now. The next meeting is in ten days’ time.”

From the window of his unadorned and
welcoming home, Matteo stared out at the old courtyard, trying his best to
concentrate on his essay entitled, “Grape Growing.” Not exactly the most
original of titles if you consider that he studied Grape Growing and Wine
Making at school, but time was running short: he had less than twenty days
until the first of his final exams, and he hadn’t even begun to study for Land
Appraisal and Legal Codes.

Matteo, just like every other senior,
would have to confront the High School Exit Examination in June and July, exams
which included a mandatory first section on Italian language and literature for
everyone, followed by other exams that were specific to each student’s field of
study.  This year’s subject exams, as determined by the Department of
Education, would be Latin for Classical Studies, Math for Scientific Studies,
and Foods and Food Preparation for Hotel Studies, which respectively were the
fields of Federico, Carlotta, and Dario.

The first two weeks of June were thus
spent in a delirium of studying, cramming, and catching up, as everyone tried
to stuff every last detail of their notes into their heads. Marika, who still
had one more year of high school to go, occupied herself with rehearsals for
the dance recital, which was scheduled for Friday night, just five days from
the beginning of the state exams.

Ever since he got back home, Matteo had
been passing by 23 Palladio Road often, trying to get a glimpse in through the
shutters, as he deliberately lengthened the route on his bicycle from his house
to
The Rook
in order to pass by her house.  At
The Rook
, his
friends were all waiting for him, the boys to hear more about the practice
schedule of professionals, and the girls to gush over him and drown him in
attention.  But all it made him feel was alone and lonely.

Even Lucrezia had come back to take home
field advantage, though she had to make room for his former
Brenta
teammates, who wanted to fill him in on all of the details of the team ever since
he had left: a nightmare! They had slid to fourth place, one of their worst
results ever.

The hot, sticky sun announcing the arrival
of summer filtered through the trees and was reflected in the eyes of those
kids lucky enough not to have to study, while all around, May blossoms turned
into the first shoots of sweet, brightly-colored fruit underneath a sky that
was marked by the wings of curious birds, attracted by the mild climate and the
abundance of food.

Wild speculations about what the
multiple-choice questions and the topics for the essay questions would be on the
written exam flew between the seniors in Marika’s group of friends, especially
those who were model students who thought about the exam 24 hours a day, even
when they weren’t barricaded in their rooms studying.
It was the only thing
that mattered
.  Projections and gossip flew about the web and passed from
mouth to mouth: from the Great Depression, perhaps a bit too obvious to be
true, to Pascoli and D’Annunzio, from natural disasters to nuclear energy; and
even from the Arab Spring to Barack Obama or the Pope. But they were just shots
in the dark.

Some, though, were able to avoid the
general hysteria: like Matteo, for whom it was all the same, figuring that the
powers that be in the Department of Education didn’t have the slightest idea
what was going on in the heads of young people; or Dario, who felt confident
that he was ready to confront any topic that they threw at him, and convinced
that he would write a “
modern, simple, and concise
” essay, just as the
examiners wanted.

And so, as the girls were sweating it out
and the boys acted all cool, cocky and arrogant until the final night before
the exams, Marcello and Valerio, neither of whom had to deal with all this
mess, wandered from study group to study group, flirting shamelessly with the
girls at each table.

Six days until the exams began; at
The
Rook
, the tension had risen to a fever pitch.  “They haven’t called me
yet,” Matteo complained, waiting for that phone call that could change his
life.  “Ninho and Pão have already been contacted by the club.”  He was already
starting to fear the genuine possibility of not being on Beretta’s final list.

“The exams are coming up,” Dario admirably
reminded him, taking on the thankless job of trying to keep Matteo’s priorities
straight.  “You should only be worried about that for the moment.”  He picked
up a study sheet.  “What can you tell me about the earthquake in Japan and the
nuclear fallout?”

“I can stay on the youth squad for another
year still before I’m too old,” Matteo continued, studiously ignoring the
question, “maybe two as a senior.”  Matteo was seriously worried that he might
be cut because of his age.

“That’s why you’ll be going straight to
their Serie A team,” his friend predicted confidently.  “You said it yourself...
Ninho already had a contract with the club before arriving, and Pão is a
fullback, and they always begin from the backfield and move their way up.”

“You’ve almost convinced me.”  He smiled
in thanks of this audacious forecast.

“What a load of crap!”  Marcello and
Valerio had been listening in on their conversation.  “Everyone knows that the
forwards are the most prized players on a team,” Marcello crowed.  “You’re out,
Zovigo.”

“I guess that means we’ll be seeing each
other more often, Bassani.”  He turned his back on them and encouraged his
friend to do the same.  “Let’s get out of here.”

“Hold on, wait, I just wanted to give you
my congratulations,” Marcello growled, unleashed by an unstoppable and
completely inexplicable desire for revenge against Matteo.  “Can I?”

“Why not?”  Matteo tightened his lips,
still on the defensive.  “Have a seat!”  It was like inviting a vampire into
your home.

“You’ve been giving it your all to earn a
white
and blue
jersey.  You’re even pretty good too.  I might even say, above
average.”  He gave a knowing look at Valerio.  “But no matter how much you try,
or how many people you fool, you’re never going to be anything more than a
loser.”  Marcello wouldn’t stop until the open wound was gushing.  “Trash...
just like the rest of your family.”

“I dare you to say that again, you piece
of shit!”  Matteo headed right at him, like a rabid dog.

“Matteo, Matteo!”  Dario held him and his
growing rage in check.  “It’s not worth it.”

But anger is a dangerous springboard and
can cause violent leaps and bounds.  Matteo clenched his jaw and his fists,
ready to unload all of the bile that was racing through his veins.

“Take it easy!” Dario kept saying.  “It’s
not worth it.  Calm down.”

“I am calm.”  His breath game in gasps.  “I
said,
I’m calm!
” he yelled at his friend, who had gotten between the two
of them, before he began roaring at Marcello.  “Don’t you
ever
mention
my family again.”  That was what had hurt him the most, and had caused him to
flame up so violently.  “If you want to fight, here I am, just say so!”  He
didn’t want to give in to his anger, and forced his feet to move away from
The
Rook
.  “You don’t need to get anyone else involved in it.  It’s just
between you and me.”

“Whenever you want, Zovigo.”

Matteo got into Dario’s car and winked
insolently at Marcello.  He had been able to avoid giving in to his emotions
and reacting to that insult, but now, inside the Mini, his sense of
self-control was giving way to the rage eating away at him.

“Can I ask you a question?”  As they
arrived at Matteo’s house after an entire drive spent in silence, Dario wanted
to distract Matteo from what had just happened.  “Why are you coming tomorrow?”

“What do you mean,
why
?”  Matteo
opened the door to get out.  “I always come.”

“I know,” Dario admitted, “but what’s the
real reason?”

“I’m ready for it.”  His ice-blue eyes,
looking back inside the car, were shining and hot.  “No more excuses, no more
invisible shields or beating around the bush,” he said, taking on his
responsibility like a man.  His experience with
San Carlo
had matured
him, and not only physically.  “I always justified my actions with Lucrezia as
something I had done for Marika, so she wouldn’t get hurt.  In truth, though, I
was doing it for myself.  I was the one afraid of getting hurt.”  He looked
closely at Dario.  “I needed to know if it is real.”  He had needed to confront
the emotional upheaval that only she could cause in him.

“If what is real?”  Dario was confused.

“If what I feel for her is real.”  The
electrical charge in the air was palpable.

“And is it?”

“Yes.”  He smiled.  “More than anything
else in my life.”  There it was, the naked truth.  He was ready.  Finally,
Matteo was ready for love, and he was finally ready for her.

“Wow.”  Dario was happy for him, and hoped
that Marika was still willing to have him.  “Well then, I’ll see you there.”

The following day arrived in a flurry of
studying history, boning up on current events, and the opening of grape leaves
on the vines.

“The theater is totally full,” one of the
girls from the classical dance class said excitedly.  “Call the others.  We’re
on soon.”  Backstage, she yelled instructions, her white tutu fluttering in
anticipation of the Waltz of the Swans coming up in act one.

“The Au Jarret Dance Academy is proud to
present:
King Musical
.”  The artistic director raised the curtain on the
end-of-the-year recital for the art, dance, and music school of Lonigo.  “Enjoy
the show!”

Mr. Maller’s group was sixth on the
program, and their first segment would be a piece taken from
A Chorus Line
. 
“Count the beats before starting and you’ll be fine!”  The teacher from the
Alvin Ailey school tried to get his girls to focus, while they ran from one end
of the dressing room to the other in search of hair spray and hairpins and
giving a last touch of kohl and eyeliner to their makeup so as to be more
visible to the audience.  “There won’t be much time between one performance and
another, so you’ll have to be quick with the costume changes, just like we did
in rehearsal.”  All of the girls had been in the theater since early that
morning for the dress rehearsal.  School had finished a week earlier, and for
most of them, this performance marked the real beginning of their summer
vacation.  “Don’t think about the audience and keep your eyes on each other to
stay in step!”  Marika had put in a lot of hard work to catch up with the
others, and Mr. Maller had been pleased to have her back as his “Nicole Chapman”
for the remake of
Fame
: “You’ll be perfect.”

The crowd had meanwhile packed the seats
with friends and family members, everyone anxious to see the performance of
their own prima ballerinas.  “Mama, did you see the program?”  Just below the
stage, front and center, Paola was showing Marika’s grandmother the schedule of
this evening’s entertainment.  Carlotta and her friends were sitting just a few
rows back, while Federico, Eve, and the rest of the band had just barely found
seats at the back.

Having them all there was a huge rush for
Marika, and it also made her stomach turn backflips, but she never could have
guessed who was about to take his place up in the balcony:
out of the
kindness of their hearts, no one had told her, because they knew it would have
been more pressure than she could bear
.