The Maestro and Margherita

“a quiconque n’amarais jamais”

Charles Baudelaire

Apology

Voice from a tape recorder and music in the background:

It happens often to me to imagine with the fantasy our first encounter. I see you coming:

“At last” I say and you smiling ask me:

“Were you waiting for me?”

“Yes, it’s been a long time and now, you have left me alone for so long, why?”

Silence... then you smile and I forgive you for everything.

It is nice this music true. I like it a lot and I often listen to it and every time my thought go rushing to you so far away, sometimes with anger because physically you are not here, I can’t see you and I don’t know how to resign myself…

…the scope of this voice that reaches you through a tape recorder is non-other then the illusion of being able to be close to you in one way or another. And it is not by change that it is this music in particular to accompany the sound of my voice. It is the sonorous column of a wonderful movie, extraordinary, The Maestro and Margherita. It is a subtle

story of a true love! Our love. An old game, new and marvelous one that as you can see not even the ocean can stop..

Well, I want to let you into a secret. It is always this way that I have imagined it to be:

Real! Authetic! Profound! Big!

You have come at the best time you know! My tiredness was huge, the intolerance even more. The reality of lives always more and more unbearable in that squalor of that stupid and futile reality. Then… I have never been capable to deceive myself. People ask me or better still, they used to ask… whether I was an optimist or a pessimist:

“Well” I used to say “What a silly question! But what does it all mean? I’m a realist!”

Now instead I understand the subtle difference which separates these two very different things, now if they should ask me I would answer:

“I’m an optimist!”

Love is extraordinary, you need only discover to ask yourself anguished:

“Why have you wasted so much time uselessly? And the more I savor this love and the more I feel happy, and if it happens that I begin to think that all in all it could have come sooner , well I think it wouldn’t have pleased as much, with another woman it wouldn’t have been the same thing. I am certain that you and only you had the ability to succeed. . You and no one else. There are times when you cause me to feel abit angry Forgive me, but you ask me to forgive you. Forgive you if you cannot write well, if you are not a good housekeeper, if you cannot cook, if your Italian is horrible and then you enumerate so many other faults with the fear that I might change my mind about you. Apart from all this, I would like you to remember always that once I am objectively convinced of something, it is very hard to make me change my mind. Moreover, I would

like you to understand that you do not have to apologize to me for anything because you have nothing to be forgiven for and then…how can you claim to frighten me. Nothing scares me! Listen I want to let you in another secret:

“Do you remember King Arthur? Well, I am one of his legendary and immortal knights! How could I be scared? Anyhow jokes aside my love, I would want you even if you were a… well, in this moment nothing unpleasant comes to mind but if you want , you try to imagine even the ugliest things ,still it would be alright with me. What you give me has no price. What you make me feel inside is…like gentle music… What I feel for you is like a poem, the sweetest. If one day when I am old I should discover you are not by my side…oh the anguishing doubt of having have burned out stupidly and uselessly the torch of my life. It will become drama and a melancholic regret for what could have been and has not been. Already now, I have this unpleasant sensation and very sad reality of having wasted pointlessly a big part of what I have already lived. However, it is also true that there was something missing, something essential, that what you justly gave me. I understand also the reason why nothing interested me, the desire to struggle, to arrive first …it wasn’t enthusiasm but just the habit of the struggle that in me has been or better still has been enormously developed. It wasn’t living you know? It was not life. I think I have discovered with certainty how I was trying solely not to die.

To dream… to dream… Well, it was not part of my practice. It happened accidentally. Often those people who know me, noticing my usual cold blood and the coldness itself in which I confronted various situations, accused me of not having nerves. Wrong! It was only suppression. A tired suppression. What is most strange, but that deep down it had the same explanation is the restlessness and psychological disorder of certain moments…

Peace has finally won its battle. I am marvelously serene. I dream of you, you and my future, our future and you…

And I dream … I dream …I dream…What?

A face. Your face! Your hands. Your lips and the sun that illuminates the green atrium which hosts you and the sweet music that accompanies the steps that lead you to me. I look at you profoundly, I caress you with one hand, sweetly, and I smile at you and embrace you. There is a voice in the air, it’s nature that announces stentorian.

“You are part of him now; it’s not possible for you to escape. You are in him forever. One day, your desperation you should know would become mute and his soul deaf. You cannot escape anymore. His love is your Tyrant fastening you with chains and you should know would never come undone again…”

But the winds carries away all that has been misunderstood and leaves intact, that which was true and sweet. I want to leave in this flourished and enchanted garden, a quoin of spring and freshness that asks no questions but understands everything and keeps silent. Because it’s useless to say that I, a small man in a blind world , which does not know where it’s headed, I confess I love you, and that more then this I could not love you.”

Prolegomena

It is strange but possible. It has happened. It can happen. It has happened.

If I had not met Amadeus, I would have surely invented him and kept him secretly in my heart. Neither did Amadeus’s image was to run swiftly nor did it disappear as if it had appeared.

For years you know people they do not inspire you, they do not suggest anything and all that which you are accustomed to becomes consuetude. Then suddenly something happens, briefly and everything changes, values considerations, methods of life… One may even call it a miracle! And without a doubt, it has all been because of him, Amadeus, his merit.

Amadeus was exceptional, but I would have loved him just the same even if he had not been, for he was my man the only one able to participate in my life and the only one who will never be expulsed. Nobody else has been able to be not even a bit.

The choice had been immediate. I fell in love the very first time I saw him. I have never met any one like Amadeus. I have never heard words spoken to me thus and if ever I have , that is how they moved in the air, and lost themselves, because they would go unnoticed , without me ever appreciating them in their value, neither did I understand them. Amadeus’s words were sound, the most loving t I always dreamt of. Amadeus was the author, the protagonist, the principle person of my life the center of everything.

Chapter 1

Everything may happen but I wouldn’t forget nor would I want to forget Amadeus and

that wonderful night of travel. I shall remember it as the happiest trip of my life.

To think my friends and I had been furious for not having caught the last train. Had we not missed that train, we would not have met Amadeus and I would still be uninterested, unenlightened, a perpetual wonderer without purpose, without anything to stimulate me. I would not have known love. What luck it had been!

The conversation in the train department veered in many directions, though more pleasant and trendy was the intonation of his voice. He spoke naturally, coherently, a soft lyrical intonation enunciating original and isolated opinions and judgments. Sitting pretty in the soft penumbra of the compartment, advantageous in his spot, hand frequently running fingers through a head of capricious hair, he appeared a man on top of his game, prosperous, on top of the world.

I am not sure why Amadeus impressed me from the start whether it was his husky, promiscuous Atlantis body, his tanned complexion complementing his selective taste in fashion and manner of clothing, which was, at any rate free of negligence. Or was it the draw of his eyes occasionally hazing out at the deep blue sea along the Parteneopean coast, scenery of endless feasts of vitality and colors, the suggestive appearance of a silver moon slowly panning in subterfuge fertile fields , the glimpse of orbits of hilled coasts spreading out like an amphitheater. He spoke a precise vocabulary, mediating practices and symbols as a person of worldly knowledge would, using a way of speaking practiced only by those au fait and competent people who are capable of producing

images by inventive symbolism. Those who heed us to think, who command admiration and respect... We went on discussing contemporary events and issues of interest in any case. I had never heard anyone so vigorously denounce social injustice, human deprivations, depredations, and the poor people’s inability to talk for themselves.

In an endeavor to prevent myself from seeming too anxious and absorbed I would often ask him to help himself to the basket of food, full of spicy juicy sausage and the egg omelets my friend Lisa had prepared and packed for us at home. Otherwise I also wired my eyes to the silver moon crossing the ocean, along the emerald shores.. I was impressed and wanted to pretend to be half aware that he was there or try to not let it show how moved by emotions I was and how the awakened sensation I felt had often lead me to visions of my own of which I had not been aware existed. How to describe for instance the stimulating buzz session that followed. As a speaker Amadeus was furtively moving on to the stage and talking plenitude and my girlfriends who never take the way out, however thinly held, began a spat

Fay my friend argued slowly and well, picking on the undertones.

“No other man saw better the evils men inflict on each other,

Karl Marx could not be more religious, he has truly embodied the essence of Supreme Good, the doctrine of Incarnation. In fact hasn’t he liberated religions? Rescued them from barbarism? Didn’t he also believe in nature and the importance of working together with nature?”

“No.” I heard Amadeus disagree.

“Though he might have done his best to meet this challenge, given that our spirit does continue to realize itself in the sphere of history and continual relation to nature. However, regardless, Marx and Hegel, believe it necessary to limit the role of nature. They actually believe humanity should gain complete control over

nature. Marx never argues against the necessity and means to control nature, as technology has obviously proven to be the most successful economical apparatus to overcome poverty. What he does argue in his book is the control of the few over the mass. Of people restricted and unable to elevate themselves to the class elite. He argues the mass has become the tool the dead organism, the diabolic machine”

“Yes, I like that. It has truth. I agree socialism was meant to liberate the conditions of enslavement. Conditions created as a result of the industrial revolution and capitalism, but I think Marx says man and nature should not be alienated and cut off

one from the other.”

“He was particularly concerned about the very enslaved and why not?” Fay put in.

“Remove the tools... the apparatus…”

“But” I had also wanted to express an opinion on the matter but the conversation was so heated that it had been difficult to interrupt the flow:

“The opulence... and possessions... from the few lucky ones that have become corrupt and despotic remove the tools from these dictators and place them under social control for the availability of all humankind. Aren’t people better than objects of exploitation?” he had continued answering their questions spreading out his hands and ruffling once again that unruly head of hair .

“Certainly. And it is indeed a wonderful and Utopian vision to wish man, degraded…

humiliated by manual labor... enslaved and alienated by class... advance to economical

apparatus and the wealth belonging only to the few privileged …”

So Amadeus fought to argue while my friends and I were scrambling all over him

Once he became so persuaded and so stimulated by our attention, and realizing he had caught our interest that he had become eager to impart his personal views. Marxism,

What he conceived it to be was nothing more than a political philosophy that could neither embrace any religious beliefs like my friend suggested nor could establish itself effectively in the political sphere.

“The world is orderly and perfect,” he maintained, as this were itself an old recipe for human happiness He recognized that if humanity wished to be witness to the truth everything that has been revealed should be known and made known. Everything and everybody has a purpose. Some things are as immutable as the fixed stars on a planet sweeping across equal areas in equal time around the sun so everyone and everything has a specific purpose. For instance the atoms in cells is essential to the function of an organism, each to operate role and unique purpose. . Some men distinguish themselves above others and in so doing deserve to become anything they want to. The problem with Marxism is that it does not allow people to choose for themselves. Instead it believes people should be assigned a role they should play in society and in that sense it removes the right to choose the individual to choose for himself or herself. Karl Marx who he held as the last of the supreme great political philosophers wants us to renounce individual happiness and sacrifice ourselves for the sake of the mass. We should forget about freedom and care about the collectivity, Give up the very free choice that is so sacred to man. We heard him speak further of people’s inability to speak for themselves of the human condition and tragedies as the train and our shifting eyes traveled farther along the shoreline and watched clouds ascend to the horizon of a red sunset and violet twilight along the coast..

O, I often think back on that night of travel and all the wonderful emotions he was able to stir. I think about how the intellectual rape often had lead me to gaze above at the most

dazzling sun still in collision with the moon and Amadeus’s eyes that seemed to follow me. His soothing voice as it were climbing in the domed sky. Indeed I remember Amadeus in the dimming light of the day as a reflection in flight, his voice as chromatic symphony continued to be present at the base of these colors in a complete composition of light and sound.

The dread with which I had awaited his letter was a clear symptom that I was experiencing a sensation and a completely sentiment to which I was unaccustomed .

Wonderful things began to happen when I began reading the letter he had sent me. Words flowed within, in the deep of my soul, a river of sweetness and anguish assail me each timeI came to the end of the letter:

“I wrote earlier that I remember you with much liking, very true, I remember with a motion of pleasure and a smile you and that cordial and romantic night of travel. I will

surely remember it as the most beautiful and pleasant trip of my life, and if you promise

not to mistake me for the common silly Italian parrot (it would hurt me) I confess that in more than one occasion I have been tempted to embrace you, caress and kiss you such was the tenderness you inspired. Do not accuse me of lightness or the usual Italian thing I am simply referring to you that which the instinct had suggested I do. It was a nice sensation because it was wonderful and spontaneous and it is something which does not happen to me often and for this reason, I remember it well. If this offends your sensitivity or other I apologize, the intention was not to upset you. It was a beautiful thing, created and caused by the natural and healthy grace you express so I have wanted to return it to you….”

For my sake, learning that Amadeus had understood all I wanted to convey to him, that he had been as taken and impressed by our encounter, feeling that something had began to happen in our lives filled my heart with gladness. The certainty that he had been thinking about me and that we were both on the same island touched me with so much love and excitement that life without him suddenly appeared tedious.

To read his letters was to feel poetry for the first time, to hear his voice on the telephone everyday were for me always reasons of profound emotion and immeasurable joy. It was to hear for the first time the harmony of my own soul. We would talk for hours just as one does with a person who has become an integral part of our being. In every thought and motion, he began to be an extension of myself. Infinitely. Marvelously, extraordinarily I fell in love with him so much. I began to feel I could not tolerate the idea of having to go on living without him.

It will need all my efforts to explain what he did to my world how immediately he seduced me with his charm and his words. From someone else’s lips these words might have sounded absurd , even in literature, in some other instance I would have probably laughed at such nonsense so much I would have thought him an ass. Instead coming from his lips they were the sweetest things I ever had ever heard uttered to me . I heard bell ring. I heard music:

“Marvelous sweetness you have brought in, I thank you and bow at your gentle power.

It is miracle; it is beauty that what has been born inside me…

“Don’t grieve Nathalie,” he wrote in his letter ” Do not grieve. I love you. I need you. I need you more now because I know I’m no longer inaccessible strength, inviolable and fierce. Now that I have you inside, I know I wouldn’t have to hate myself anymore. Do not show me fears, I am the way you hear me and will feel me. I want to have you close to me, your soul, your self-confidence, your calm maturity. I am feeling something that

I do not recognize and it is wonderful to let myself go and be transported on wings of your poetry. It’s beautiful, so much more so that for so many reasons. My life, a life such as my own, always grounded and resting on the most pitiless and ruthless rationality. but now that I have found you, you are the most precious goodness I possess. Now that I have discovered you, I do not want to be, moreover, neither can be the same as before. You are the universe of infinite sentiments and I thank you a thousand more times because you have removed me from a rigid immobility…”

Words have strange sounds, they are cold and impersonal, warm and sweet, weak and

powerful, exaggerated but never adherent to reality. In this case they do not say how

deeply touched I was, how enraptured by the power of this man. Amadeus had but one

fault he was across the ocean and so very far away and that, soon, was to become

agony, the cause and reasons for misery and melancholies.

.

Chapter 2

My friends were never to recover from the shock and complete change of attitude of mine. All I could do since I met Amadeus was to talk about the guy who I met on a train, who had this compulsive habit of running his hands though his hair, this guy huddled in the corner of the train compartment speaking to us in graceful morbidezza and good sense. Amadeus, this guy who had impressed me so and who in spite of a treacherous and ferocious hurry to catch his next train the next morning, when we were about to part whowas standing and gathering his things had unexpectedly turned around and catching me had kissed me goodbye. Speechless I had watched him make way towering through crowds of people with aggressive linearity, yet trying to glance backwards to smile.

The townhouse in the Annex I shared with Gwen was charming and comfortable. Over time we had been adding to the décor with infinitesimal innovations. We had not tampered with the architecture per se, although we had chosen to accentuate its parts by suppressing a couple of doors and arranging the living room, for instance, in a sort of a big and unique model, plain but at the same time playing with colors in different zones. In places, segments like the hallway and corners of the fireplace we had adopted somber colors while preferring bursting whites in the elevated ceiling. Only a few colored notes of the furniture (cupboards, bookshelves, shelves) contrasted the ceiling, the walls and the curtains of white material facing the huge vertical glass casing. The rest of the room from the ceiling where the stained glass window descended, we had painted in broom thus forming and revealing intimacy unfamiliar to the room, We had been apprehensive about installing the stained glass especially for the evening when they seem to masque the night; during the day instead, they assure a very beautiful light; and since

the windows are situated in the north side they never pose a problem of excess sun. In the corner treated in alcove we has placed a lamp resting on the floor and in addition to heap the passage to the rest of the room we had placed and low table in glass and bronze with grouped hooking and engravings and drawings along the wall. There we would retire in the evening on pillows in cloaks of brown and red and mustard the tone of which had matched with the huge carpet of jute and wool.

Standing there and looking outside my window this evening I noticed everyone was happy and excited. People on the street laughed, having a good time while I was home alone. It brought a sour taste of melancholia. I had been sitting there in front of my desk for hours not been able to have a good time. I had been thinking of Amadeus all night, I missed him and the feeling took away all desire and ambition. . Secretly, in my heart, there was the hope that Amadeus would call and I waited staring at the phone, monster of animation. If the suspicion that Amadeus at that moment might be with another woman aggrieved me, melancholia became agony and I could not be at peace. How could Amadeus think that he annoyed me whenever he phoned if that is the way I would have liked him to annoy me every single day yet more frequently?

Love is a strange thing, beautiful, marvelous, suffering…

I sat at my desk, with the anxious and fretful, staring at the phone for a long time. To look at it, the phone is impersonal and cold but then I thought I loved it too since it carried Amadeus’s voice and thoughts. After I do not know how long, I began to search the house for his phone number. I soon became devastated remembering suddenly that he would be unable to phone me anymore that evening, because while in Canada we could call direct to Italy, they could not. It was all a big mess. Amadeus could only phone me from the Central Office which in any case closed at

twenty one hours and was now off the limits. I was wretched, tragic, I continued to search for his phone number more frantically, I searched through the entire house requisitioned it upside down without any luck. I know I would not get any sleep if I did not talk to him that night and when I was finally exhausted of seeking, I inquired for his number with the telephone operator and with much relief and happiness began to dial. It was deep in the night when the phone rang in Italy. It rang and rang while Amadeus was absent. I spent hours after that, tentative on top of tentative in order to get in touch with him to contact him and hear his voice on the other side on the wire, but alas, only to end up deluded and disquieted and embittered by dull-witted and obsessive ideas of betrayal and pangs of covetousness . When I was finally able to reach him at dawn, he had no idea I had been going through, how consumed I had been with worries and how extraordinary it was to hear him greet me thus:

“Good morning my love, or should I say good evening. It’s daytime here but not there where you are. You are always in my mind in any case. I’ve received two of your letters. One in particular was beautiful. You’ve repeated, told me you love me. That you are always thinking about me, It’s extraordinary , love”

It was certain that Amadeus possessed the most consolatory voice because he was able to ease my worries almost immediately. His voice especially assuaging gradually restoring

Calm. The dreamy expressions so succoring that I had come to think that apart from church organs and violins no sound for me was of greater manifestations and harmony then his voice. Soon I began to let on and disclose to Amadeus the horrible time I had been going through, being away from him, my unsuccessful attempt to contact him, the wretched thoughts and ideas which engaged me while I was alone and missing him and the inability I had to enjoy myself and have a good time without him. I also told

him how I had come home that night and abandoned my friends at the Cantonese restaurant because the message in the fortune cookie had disquieted the evening and had me feeling suspicious with a sour taste in my mouth. “Don’t believe everything you read” it said. I couldn’t help but think about him and without any particular cause feel anguished and bitter and whether I should believe everything he told and wrote me

“I’m in perfect agreement with you. Those fortune cookies tend to leave a sour taste in one’s mouth. I am perplexed and I am also bitter Natalia” he reproached

.” I am convinced that you do not do it intentionally and you do not want me to feel that way. About the message you read in those Chinese cookies, Natalia, I hold that you should believe everything I write you; otherwise, I cannot find a plausible explanation for all this. I have written things that I have felt being born within, which are in expression the most genuine of me instinctively. A real and beautiful part of myself and honestly that phrase has caught me like a stab in the my back… don’t worry though, it’s already past and ancient history. In any case, Natalia, the Chinese people, though a good race of people, like other races surely are not the depositors of absolute truth, neither will they ever be, and on top of it all they will surely add more quantity of atrocities in this world….I’m not seeing anyone else, I don’t find anybody else interesting,”

Amadeus divulged, and to discourage burdensome demands and questioning tried to assure me thatother women did not interest him.

“I’ll tell you something else Nathalie, generally speaking women like me, but at this moment I would trade them all in for you. Do you believe me?”

Being in love is an emotion that includes a whole set of values alongside. Honesty, trust,

worthileness. For certain reconsideration of mode of living and aspirations. The time and months that followed were to see me go through most dramatic emotional changes and conditions so drastic that would eventually change the course of all things.

.

Chapter 3

Life in the townhouse had been a party and meticulously Gwen was reminding me of that as we sat reminiscing and stringing together our memories of pleasant escapade. I felt my spirits being temporarily reawakened to pleasure and zeal and what had been a life of lax and freedom. Caught up in the inexorable concern and need to emerge from the apathy, the disillusionment and asphyxiation of each of our failed marriages, the acute knowledge of its relative irrelevance and insignificance in our lives, the lack of intellectual gratification, the quest for some sort of equalitarianism, the unmarried life yearnings and impertinent desire to a few hours of a “good time” encouraged that we to entertain frequently. These parties often provided the desire for fresh interrelations, the desire to experiment, to play and to a fuller desire of our own individual l expression. The many parties we hosted at the townhouse comprised both the want to break loose and need of experience and establishing at the same time the voluntary connection to want to belong. The entertaining a plausible means to express our “Alienated or Bohemian” way of life. Entertaining often was an attempt to work out a value system, to be lead by the impulse and still striving to free ourselves from the conventional status.

Gwen and I by chance had met at Christmas party in King City. The two of us combined in a storm at life and marriage and then wondered would we always continue to live in the void and hypocrisy sacrifice our quest for happiness or else would let the chips fall where they may and let what should be, be.

King City indicates new class elite. In a desert setting governed by a orderly silence

The niveau riche return to their beginnings to carve out new classical foundations of

composition and harmony. As onlooker, I felt estranged from the milieu. Walking through long halls and large rooms of multi spatial configurations, interior facades

manually laboroured sculptures, niches, pilasters heeded one through spasmodic spiritual processes. These mansions dispose one to have the impression of walking through Gothic structures where the ceiling is way up and heaven so much further. Nonetheless such new structures constitute a pursuit of novelty the opulent achievement and fine taste and embellishment of a new generation which has established itself. Gwen had been walking alone in this immense honeycomb waiting room, browsing the paintings on the wall, the elegant and theatrical drama of the milieu, gazing in rapture at the subdial decoration. The elegance had been so overwhelming a somber disillusionment seems to reside and prevail in this engendered hall of music and song. Virile men composed and controlled, ladies whose sensuality stopped short of effusion, arrogant scents leading further to emphasize the draperies forming their bodies, the visual experience was one of exaggeration and the effect of the materialism made it difficult to feel and place oneself in relation to the ferocious symbolic consumption . It was almost as if the objects, the practiced ascetic discipline placed us at a distance, made us incapable of becoming involved in the cycle. Stupidly irreducible to space and time stayed there cumbersome and indigestible to the situational virtuosity. However, we also knew perfectly that at any given time we would willingly decide to mix, that to regress and socialize with the flock softens suppression and forbiddance.

The adventure that Gwen and I had just begun, being a search and a need to want to frame a new experience in our social life to want experiment and break at all costs with the brutal banality of married life, necessarily became the first step to a unique and clear ideology, ransom of a finalized imposture and insincerity. Sour with not a wince, nor a tear, we sweated to the rhythm they made to the final quiet hours of the day

when exhausted we had given in to the heaviness on our eyelids and collapsed.Even when the party had broken up we had continued to drink, splurge, tailgating our resolve to stretch the innovative life. We knew we had deliberately kept stalling. We had not wanted to go straight home, instead had driven back in the city to luncheon at the Ports, visited the Ontario Royal Museum, then to the movies and a later return to fete and orgy in our host’s home.

Both our marriages failed in the end. A few weeks later Gwen and I moved in a townhouse together. Life in the townhouse a remarkable time of growth and learning. Gwen somewhat reserved and good humored in any case a pleasing personality, a commendable roommate and even better friend.. We had wanted to laugh afterwards,

enjoy life. Those pop years gave us plenty chances to entertain and scope to expand our

relationship while at the same time refusing to accept the interpersonal and treachery

of undesirable commitments but within the course of a few weeks all this changed.

Was this what lay around this coming weekend, another party? Gwen was still astonished at the rapidity Amadeus and I were moving and as it was the first night we

sat to discuss the details and plans for the party I had felt almost a pathological threat,

The spree she had been organizing for weeks provoked nothing more but the wish to be left alone and dream of Amadeus Repeatedly he was on my mind and therefore had little interest in the world outside the four walls of my room. So much, so that I was suddenly secluding myself into a nunnery way of life. Expired

enthusiasm to our usual soirees of the Rocky Horror Picture Show a clear sign to

Gwen that something was changing and while she tried to float along with it she was a bit at odd with it and couldn’t understand why suddenly the antagonism to socialize. In addition this fear, a pressure. Of being unable to readjust to the needs and moods and expectations of a social gathering noticeably weighing me down.

Chapter 4

It was hard to think Amadeus a normal ordinary man. He was either unique or an exception in my life and because there would be only one Amadeus, I would love like this just once. Thus, I became absorbed. Needy. And the more I came to lean on him emotionally, the more he became indispensable. Something I had never done in the past, was to think of love in these terms. He was superior to my immediate wants and as he had come to be, a component factor of my being that it was difficult to think of anything else and I would not allow letting myself be distracted by minor things. Extravagant with clinging it would be false to say that I was happy and at peace, I argued all the time. In love, the nervous distance would test out intolerable? I missed him too much, I wanted for us to be together, away from him obsessive and nagging ideas as to where he might be at any given time and with whom would drive me crazy. This is not really happening I would say to myself as humors and moods would descend from hilarities of well being to cadenzas of somber tension of waiting and wanting. So I could write Amedeo letters of most violent accusations and reproaches ,threatening that he not speak to other women and to cancel them all out his life:

“Don’t go with anyone one else, please wait for me. I have you in me now. I couldn’t go with anyone else.”

He could neither tolerate strange demands nor stand my unnatural fears and would labor

his best to put me rest appease my hang-ups with small doses of fine grain salt.

“Your fear is irrational “he chided,

“Really it would be hard to cheat on you. I could only do it with you. It is true you know other women do not interest me any more. The fact

that I’m always home and I do not go out at night proves it. Before I met you could never find me at home. Now I wouldn’t know where to go I don’t find anything interesting out there”

“Well you obviously find talking about women very interesting.”

“What do you mean?” he begged in embaressement.

“Let me put it to you this way, in the letters you write me or when I call you keep carrying on about a usual piss of a girlfriend or some colleague at work , that insults me,

I don’t want to hear no more of your other halves…”

“Nathalie, no, wait, listen. My discourses on women, I wouldn’t want you to misunderstand them. I mean to say simply that for many reasons, I have had many around me, but when our rapport became concrete, I have detached myself from them. From the beginning I was convinced that it was a question of honesty on your behalf, almost duty, eventually instead I became aware that it isn’t so, it’s that they are not you, now I feel a sort of repulsion that I have never known. What is still stranger is that in the past I have always been very sensitive to the feminine spell. I have always thought that while virtually in love, I could like other women as well. Well, you know, I’ve discovered that that isn’t so. Having surpassed this first woe, I have found being in love a wonderful thing.”

“Fuck you!”

“No you must believe me Nathalie, my love you must. I’m sorry if I have caused you to worry but I’ll try to explain how one could unintentionally cause someone pain without knowing it without wanting to unconsciously cause someone to hurt. To you in no way I would want to do that, consciously nor unconsciously, I wouldn’t want to be the

cause of you grief. I love you, enough said , and if you think that’s gibberish , I’ll have you know the great philosopher Socrates himself often cautioned his first drama of the day was to get up in the morning because attempting as usual to land on the ground and fix his feet on sense of matter he would inevitably kill an ant and he loved ants as well..”

These were times when I could get extraordinally drained and as Amadeus kept pressing the cup closer to my anxious lips, I often would think my anxieties and suspicious were unfound. Amadeus I believe, did love me and hasty and snappy erroneous judgments were causing him to be trapped in anguish and when it backfired because it did, I’d feel it return to me double fold. I knew my fixations my irritations would only continue to pile up the dangerous quarrels but I could not pretend or that I was not afraid to lose him, or that he was not important to me, and I couldn’t tolerate the idea of being bumped and dropped.

“I have already told you “he’d ditto

“I don’t find anyone interesting. Those other women… It’s true I talk about them incessantly Forgive me. My sole defense is that effectively, I spoke of them, as they had nothing to share with me. Listen, I will tell you a story that is going to convince you totally you have nothing to worry about. Just last night, you know, I was coming back from a mini-congress I had been attending in Alessandria.. Would you know it, in the proximity of Turin, I got a flat tire. Horror!

Someone halted to come to my aid but their equipment did not suit my car. A young woman turned up and offered to help to no avail. Same dilemma she did not have the right objects. . At that point, she, very kindly got out of her car, got on the highway, and after reaching the first town, triumphantly came back with the tool. There was no way to return the money she had spent; she told me she would be happy to go out for coffee. Back in the city I offered her a coffee and following my little lack of interest and response she told me right out that she found me extremely attractive and if I wished she could give me her telephone number and offer me her company. At that point it came naturally for me to smile and tell her

“ I’m sorry, don’t be hurt, but I’m incredibly in love with a girl that I have never kissed and who lives thousands of miles away. It’s one of those wonderful things that happen in a lifetime.” I must have so totally sweetened her up that she did not even take offense. Afterwards we parted on our own ways. This episode reflects with fidelity what I think and how important and profound is that which I feel for you. I love you too much. I love you inside, in every motion and thought….”

I loved Amadeus too much and though he was just joking and then let all the imbroglio rip, and thought neither did I come equipped with the proper tires he required I wanted to love him in a manner he could not compare not really knowing the risk and the complete ass I was set out to become.

Breathless when I received his letters I was unable to fight the drowsy stimulations and deep think knockouts:

“I know that you would be able to understand me, to love me to live beside me as a normal man. My drama has been that they have always seem me under a different light, someone who has something more , more then the normal man. Absurd! The more I tried to convince these women that it was not true, the more they convince themselves of the contrary. Even in their hate they were superior. Maybe I have not been able to give them what they wanted. However, you are beautiful. I know you would never hate me…”

Living in function of my drama queen gradually began to dissimulate other relationships.

I was not going out any more, socialize with my friends, have a good time and not worry that Amadeus might call and I would miss him and whenever he missed a call, I simply went out of my mind. He made me smile. He made me laugh, unlike myself to complement my personality he was very eloquent, he could make me forget my worries, fill my heart with joy. I should like to write indeed a hymn of praise for his in fatigable tolerance , his incredulous and brilliant understanding and accomplishment for his gentle and tender love.

He teased me with verses, poems anything to build create love:

‘’But soft! What light through yonder window breaks?

It is the East (It’s Natalia I say)

Arise fair sun and kill the envious moon,

Who is already sick and pale with grief

That thou here maid are far more fair than she.’

And it is as such as Romeo loved Juliet, so I love you, with the same dedicated poetry.”

Often I needed to rant, wanting to familiarize us to a disparaging rapport, it’s funny but I really wanted to start a sort of dialogue anew. A mass of words to establish this new innocence in a new amorous relationship, find a common ground based on honesty a new level of communication without secrets.

At times, I needed an insane amount of reassurance and protection and submitted myself to lengthy psychic analysis and interpretation.

I still carry his thoughts with me of that night when I decided I should come clean

To relate most relevant and vitals facts of a still, mobile and complex reality and

that I had been married previously and was not yet free.

“You, love, must have very little esteem of me if you held that knowing about your failed

marriage could produce change me or change you in my eyes. Do you think

me so limited I cannot pose myself some questions and answer them for myself.

That I do not know or can’t guess the game of life? That there is so little depth in me, as not be able to understand? My love I look at the world with much subtlety .and tolerance

I know how men are weak and impossibilitated. Then the error of one time should cancel you forever from life? None of us would exist then. I am here in love with you,

I’m here to love you, and understand you. Others may not, but I do!”

Who could not be agonized grieve to such extraordinary elusive parallelism? Sleaziness of symbolism, by Jove, not I, and amid desperation and smite that killed ,isolation

I found myself dwelling, whilst mixture of humiliation I found myself hear myself breathe:

“I felt you should know about my past, though you were right when you wrote that ours is a beautiful love story”

“Yes love, it’s splendid, a quoin of heaven in a foul and miserable world!

Natalia, I want to assure you, for me nothing is changed, your unfortunate conjugal adventure, I would like you to annul it, this way you will not suffer anymore. For me, for you it matters little. You are still the same person I met on that first day but I am glad you have made me part of this truth, I feel you closer. Mine! And I need it because I have loved only you. I am saddened for you Natalia, these things happen and they have happened to you and I am furious with myself because I cannot hug and console you.I am furious at this moment because someone has hurt you and I want to hit.

Destroy.. It is not honorable I know but I feel it and think it and it is impossible to hide it. I was not there and could not protect you but no one will ever do it again. I couldn’t permit it nor even tolerate it, I couldn’t excuse it!”

That I would be intoxicated by the ability he could exorcise, present me abstract images without weight but that in a dialectical context framed up a concrete reality of the image of a day to day experience. Nonetheless while the ornate could very well be criminal I was ready every day to plot a new felonious delinquency and battle with a static destiny one I would also immediately erase and override the next day. I finally believed Amadeus through the exaggeration and most abstract presentation he was iinstitutionalizing a relationship embedded in my skin. An impressed relationship with a given data that in the scheme of things restricted and sealed up. At the same time, the aesthetic fabrication as form of interpretation of my reality and elevation of the … Italian situation as new experiment and most complete thought always kept me on drowning and needing more, just as if he were a drug. .

Chapter 5

It happened at the party on Saturday night. I had not been able to wiggle out of Pierre’s clutches. Unchaste and unimaginative, Pierre’s pulsated hurries of conversations as he watched in gleaming pleasure me all guilty and in flight, letting me blush, wonder away and convolute and coil in corners of our apartment. There was no doubt of course as to the cause. He had done his best to irritate and cause me discomfort. I had been fretting around crushed to realize I was not unaroused nor unconcerned by brazen memories we had made together, reduced to admit that that no matter what he could really get my goat. It has been so difficult to be aware of anything else other then his inquisitive eyes, secret furtive pull and outré slam.

One can become a slave to the choice one makes. My topsy-turvy relationship with Pierre, a relationship without authority and free from emotional restrain had instead placed me at clematis. Pierre the man of torments and ruptures, the man that would invade my spirits with his lustful smile, whirl me out of my senses symbolized the most profound inspiration of my life, delicious contretemps of drippy passions, jams of explosive releases and joys compassed my COM pulsed mind and every chart of time. Making love to perdition and Pierre almost sapping the life of me kept me serving.

Pierre had has so enthralled in his keeping, that there was no eagerness to run anyway,

At intervals and rotten breaks, the persistence of remembrances of our entwined body’s akin and breathless embraces would keep me sighing and wondering when the earth would move again . Delicious astronomical days of contentment immediately followed

Pierre’s endless agnostic philosophies, how he never understood what life was about

how he could never understand how people could get so involved in its non-meaning,

how absurd life was , how he never quite understood whether there was a God or not and how lucky we were because we had chosen to release ourselves with freedom and spontaneity. Thus with a cheerful smile in hi face Pierre would leave me to wonder whether I would ever see him again.. It has been so difficult to be aware of other but his inquisitive eyes, secret furtive pull and outré slam.

Had I not met Amedeo had he not lured me away I would have still been enjoying the delights with Pierre and in midst intervals trying to extricate myself from memories of his grasps. True Amadeus was of far away and the distance was trying, true my hormones were screaming but it was different, an altogether different feeling. Amedeo did not make me stranger and had wanted me to participate in his life, allowed me his interior world, Amadeus liked me , liked us, wanted the two of us to get to know each other better, wanted for me to learn more about myself and my needs, he wanted the two of us to be. Since I had met Amadeus I had not been given Pierre much more thoughts, having acquired more energy and strength and concentrating in a much solid and gratifying relationship I thought I had better ideas in my head now then fucking Pierre and thought I ‘d never have to return to think or mention my permissive encounter with Pierre. A brief encounter, an immediate identification, penetrated insight of each other surface and we had urgently become lovers. A painter and lost in his ways Pierre inspired so much tenderness, There had been a striking resemblance of the night I had just spent with Pierre and the first time we had made love I was reflecting, as I sat against the bed post with the whole picture all indescribable complexities. Susceptive and consciously persisting aware of the biological signals he transmits; I had finally been unable to break away from his eager lips and enthrallment of my tits. At the immediate feel and touch of the flowing wetness on my crouches, Pierre had not wasted no time nor

allowed any resistance tossing me against the wall elevating me to almost unconsciousness grasping my hand, mastering to touch his grown erection, resolved crushed inside my cunt.. The whole thing had happened so fast, I had had no time to stop it , Pierre had been so smooth, and well equipped that while agape and dumbfounded I had neither screamed moved or urged him, filled with the fresh scent of his silky coconut hair intoxicated by something higher and beautiful, fearful wasted and broken was clutching against his body whimpering like a baby .

How can there be ordering of events, when unpredictions like this occur? What was I going to do now , what was I to tell Amedeo? How could I explain what had happened ?

There had been no doubt in mind as to what might have happened . Clearly I foreseen, had known the results of premature run in with Pierre, my unwillingness to attend the party I had explained to my friends Gwen ad Fay was to avoid seeing Pierre too early

In addition, get caught in an unpleasant and intriguing situation where I would still have to answer to him. They had found my argumentation absurd, it would have been sufficient to say a few polite things in his presence as to not appear rude and then avert my attention elsewhere, Pierre would grow accustomed to my lack of interest and would eventually leave things be. Feeling dubious I had agreed upon the plans aware that inspire of an enflamed want of redemption it was hard to dispose of the past, entertain old relationships without flatteries of the past. Uninstructed neophyte indeed that I could have believed that years of delight fucking had me uncommitted. The truth was that I was impuissant and shallow without any morals and dignity and that I did wrong all the time and knew it. After a whole night lying awake beside Pierre I got out of bed struggling to gain some measure of composure and went to sit by the window tryingthe undo the tangles of my thoughts. The snow outside was flying; it crushed itself on the window seal brightening the outer walls. The earth was wet and grey, underneath ashes of snow strings of green grass of the lawn animated and cheered in the pallor of the new day. There was nowhere for the conscience to escape though much had changed in the matter of a few hours though on a cold winter day it does not make much difference it is a small thing in the vast universe and outside my room the ambience had not altered.

Chapter 6

In the early days, Pierre was legendary.. . The wish to know this rare man had been foolish, and actually faced many female rivals in the urgency to hook and win him over. .I had gotten involved with Pierre and it did not take long to realize that he was one crude example of uneven chauvinist. Moreover, that the naughty adventure had meant friction and hostility among girlfriends. Fay too had liked Pierre, she could see a great artist in an awkward rebellious spirit and deep down I think was hurt that Pierre had preferred me to her. I could go on at some length over Fay’s skepticism and how she held she had always recognized Pierre in his truest light. I had lost much I think in our friendship and process to compete and keep them apart. While acknowledging this attitude of mine immensely negative and disruptive but where Pierre was concerned I was a lowdown greedy wolf. Shaking her head, Fay was driving carefully observing traffic signs and hurdles of pedestrians everywhere. At rush hour when people are, leaving their workplace and heading home the roads are especially congested and traffic is heavy.

“Stop asking me these questions” she countered impatiently when I was no longer

sure of anything and now really in need to understand this affinity between the laws of spirit and nature

“What is the point of talking about this? You have obviously made a choice. You have been a fool but you are fine with the way things are. Get over it and accept it”

A smile crossed my lips while it seemed banal to discuss the dilemma talk about it in black and white and especially sermonize the ruined beatitude. Fay kept driving without moral preoccupations, her opinions based on sound judgments and valued interpretations

of facts, intellectual integrity that did not not move one to leap in grieving and tears.

Distinctively absent and hardboiled to my drama she was reminding me that I should have know better while I was sullen and tangled in labyrinth. Upon leaving, the Poor Alex where we had gone to assist a local comedy Fay now fully loaded with intellectual stamina would still cock an eye in my direction

“You’ll only make things worse by thinking about it.” she told me this distinctively ordinary as the usual absent spectator she’d always been and as one whose never moved by anything nor ever likes anything and things that happen around her leave her feeling indifferent at best. Indeed I wasn’t surprised and had an intuition how she could be making a confusion and had really wanted to be able to explain how devoted and absorbed I was of Amadeus. I wanted to tell her that what had happened with Pierre was not of my wanting, how terrible I had been feeling since it happened, how I couldn’t not find the strength to forgive myself and how afraid I had been to speak to Amadeus and keep myself from telling him everything.

“I love him. I don’t want to loose him. He’s the best thing that has ever happened to me”

I told her really believing that men like him come but once in a lifetime.

“Don’t tell him then, he does not have to know. He is never going to hear it from anyone.

Really, Nathalie this is beyond me. I do not understand it. That you like him is all right but to get so involved when the man lives on the other side of the ocean. You do not even know him. I mean what are you going to do, leave everything here and go and live there?”

Once upon a time, her observation would have made a world of sense but I was too deep in the relationship to hear reason. If only I could get her to see this space, I am moving in, that is I was terribly fixated on this one object of observation, that it had become the

main preoccupation and center of interest that I disliked everything and anything else in comparison. While my friends tried to talk to me, I was sickened by everything that was wrong with them, how mundane and unsentimental to what mattered they were. They were not the chosen ones they understand it just was not their fault that they could not understand nor see the light and feel the warmth of the sun. I argued that it was possible to fall that much in love with another person that time and distance could not be disaster enough that I heard bells that I had been waiting for him.

Today I often recall Fay calling me back from blank stares. I mean it was a frightening what was really happening. It was like experiencing some sort of fragmentation and dissolving of personal identity and when I looked around me oddly, feeling suddenly out of place with what had always been commonplace Meanwhile I believed that in spite of appearances I remained beautifully balanced. I was in love, everything was falling in place I was looking past everyone and there was more to living, like ceasing the moment the happiness we are entitled to. I had it here. Amadeus and the idea of love and it filled my heart with so much joy that I decided it was no longer possible to live apart that we should begin planning our lives together. Leaving Fay outside my door, I continued to climb up. Alone in my bedroom, I turned on the lamp and sat at my desk and began to check out my financial situation. While calculating my spending I decided to impose myself and keep a tight budget, an absurd chore as I have always squandered my money recklessly, in proportion to my precedent philosophy, and we only lived once. I looked down at bank account, I had to save my money however, and go to Amedeo as soon as possible as the days were slow to pass and every day I had manage to make an absolute mess of things. As I instructed myself through these reasonable decisions and having

resolved to take an important step, my anxieties were, broken, diminished and renewed hope and joy for the future began to stir inside in my being.

I didn’t know what I would do to be forgiven, to feel worthy of his love, merit his trust,

maybe I would ask, maybe I would distract myself from asking but I would love him better I would love him more. I was sure I was capable of being a better person, Amadeus had changed me I did not want to be living a lie, and he was the real thing. I had not been able to put into words all that he had come to mean but like there was a choice and I wanted to be loved, I needed to feel important, indispensable in his life.

For a moment, I had forgotten the source of my torment. feeling like I had surmounted the crisis, I went to bed and read. It was the story of Abelard and Heloise thus, I began

to sniff, sob, cry flood uncontrollably.

I woke in my room the next morning to the telephone ringing. Rarely Amadeus phoned

at this hour and while I heard the phone blaring and I simply sat there and did not move. I let it go on ringing, went back into our Formica beige kitchen, and with my stomach churning stared motionless at the chiming object lacking the courage to pick up the receiver. I ‘d been telling myself that I would stop punishing myself but once again the chore expressed itself difficult and in this way it is superfluous to say that the transgression and malefaction was adjusting itself in a hoopla and severing further activity. Above that, kinda of sulky and innerved snapped myself to receive the day showered, put on my clothes and like a fathom disappeared to my office.

It was nearly midnight when I snuck back into the house. Amadeus distinctively sensed my singular tone and I let the question drop in silence not to appear on guard. But it was like I was dying before him , that I was not being myself that I putting on a act,

I was forced to play. Amadeus, being in always thoughtful and romantic and wanting to please me with delightful surprises spontaneously began philandering and recreating a song on the piano. Though entirely distant, I could still recognized from across the wires the superiority and elegance of his taste. It was difficult to know suddenly what to say to him since I wanted him more then anything but felt abruptly unworthy...

Since it has been so difficult being apart, I had decided I wanted to go and visit him soon

I told him but I was not able to stir any excitement... So analytical and methodical a man

Amadeus is at times that I might have just said I wanted to go to the moon, his casual nexus cold and offish that I thought my desires almost retorted. When I indicated that I thought the long distance that was keeping us apart was jeopardizing our relationship, Amadeus’s comeback was derogatory almost a conspiracy of fate, a continued opposition between my situations and wants.

“It afflicts me when you say that it is one thing to phone and write to one while it’s a more direct reality to be actually there in person because I probably have not been able to make you understand much about myself. Natalie, I am the way you hear and read me.

I want you!”

‘But then why are you so hesitant why wouldn’t you let me come to you now?”

‘Mine is not indecisiveness! Listen, I will list all the reasons and problems for this slight perplexity. I did not expect that you would decide to come and live I Italy so soon, as a start I am thinking of your work and the long hours of studies and hardship you had to endure to graduate from your University. Here in Italy, it would be worthless, it would not count a thing, and then you would have to abandon all you affections, your parents, your friends to lean solely on me, it’s not that this fact scares me, on the contrary, but will it be enough for you.”

“Yes, since I’m here, not with you”

Amadeus smiled and continued to protest:

“And I still don’t have a house where the two of us can go and live…”

“It doesn’t matter,” I pledged wanting instant support.

“But it does matter amore. Nathalie, amore it does matter a lot. It matters a lot to me. I worry. I worry for you, you cannot pretend that I should not be afraid for you that you will be leaving everything… your future, your career, your family, your friends to come and stay with me. I ask myself will I be able to make her happy. If you have not understood it, yet I will repeat to you. Mine is not indecision, you must not confuse it

for insecurities, it is certainly not about myself that I am worried about, to be perfectly honest I have not even thought about that, My only spur is you happiness. It is only about you that I worry about, so that you have know, my ideas are clear. I know what I want.I want you. You, you, you… I don’t say things that I actually don’t think”

Still I wanted to go and seem him. It was the only thing I wanted, go to him, to take care of things

“You needn’t worry! I continued stirring a commotion

“I don’t want to crowd you, suffocate you. I need to be with you, now. I do not even care what is going to happen in the future, whether we are going to last at all, you need not promise me a thing. I cannot bear this waiting anymore and I want to see you. I must come and see you right away.” Moreover, while I struggled to have him see it my way, I thought I might never be able to say a single thing again; the heavy silence that had fallen me wonder whether he was still there listening on the other end.

“You’re mistaken!” He shouted

“Nathalie, you are mistaken if you feel me afraid, I’m not afraid. You do not frighten me.!” He continued raising his voice” You do not suffocate me; neither could you ever do it. These things verify themselves when there is no interest for people involved, in our case, I think this a pointless argument. I want you to suffocate me, I could never feel uneasy with you, do you understand? That means you are finally an integrant part of my life. I may have said at times ‘I can’t promise you anything’ but surely you misunderstood my say, I want to promise you everything I have. My limit my love, is my human nature, the rage and not being able to overcome my mortality and give you more, suffocate me. My love, please do not say anymore, you do not know how long this is going to last, do not do it anymore, it hurts. I do not want you for the quick moment; I would rather give you up now. I am not a child. I know well what I want. On my part, there is no hesitation; I wish to be of your exclusive possession. You should not be afraid of asphyxiating me, others are capable of that but not you. Absolutely! I know, it couldn’t’ be differently! “

Then finally and in spite of all the sensible argumentations earlier, Amadeus said:

“Nathalie amore, all things considered, I tell you, come, we’ll manage somehow.”

Chapter 7

I never stayed home and watched so much television in my life carefully avoiding Pierre

moreover spinning dizzy drowning in a whirlpool of chaotic waste. Because of Pierre, I had hit the bottom but I was coming back. We had intended ourselves o a physical level but it was not enough for love I had known it for a long time but I had not been able to walk away. All along I had hoped that he would be ready to take our relationship further but he never showed any signs he ever cared. I was now finding the strength to fight back and I wanted to win. During the day, there was plenty to do and I did not think about it much in the evening however, I was unable to fight off the onslaught and breathless implications of stubborn dreams where my body would be totally at libertine with Pierre and awake my mind totally disapproving. In addition, what should I say of angels and devils? Dripping with sweat I’d contemplate Amadeus, sweet, with light wings seeming to promise succor he’d call out my name with open arms and running towards me to greet me, and then Pierre would appear With his broad smile and parting lips laughing odiously:

“He’s a little devil itself”

Pierre blinked uncannily when I had mentioned to him that I liked his smile. The recollections and Pierre always threw me into despair and had to realize

that just the same sort of stuff was taking place now as it did always... Pierre had been an adjustment in time, a fulfillment that reaches in the depth of our being, fancy-free

never long and deep, combustion that died quickly as we continued to propose for nothing, I had grown adjusted to the conditioned situation and whenever I grew afraid of being alone I looked for Pierre for things to do. If pleasure came through circumstances, the happiness and joy, Amadeus was a different sort of thing.

Amadeus I believed he had come at the right time… as to the economical aspect he had come at the wrong time. I had spend that entire summer traveling across Europe and while the problem of taking time off at work was a determinant factor the reason I had not joined Amadeus as yet was for the lack of funds I did not possess in abundance. .Wanting to trust in Amadeus and proceed blindly into a new situation, I postponed the idea of flying to Europe right away.

The black birds of January were long and slow to pass. The longest month of the year, were brutal, gushes of strong winds and snow falling being its complete sovereign?

The cold element like a verse near death saw my heart being washed clean of devils tapping me in the shoulder and laboring my way to ecstasies of angels. Amadeus showered me with attention I saw nothing but anywhere flowers, telegrams, video cassettes. Letters ...but the need to be with him feel him, his flesh against mine, to fuse with him, sleep on his breast in the cordial silence of the dark was huge, the wish of fulfillment was distant, and then harmony is attained when the element of reverie can plausibly enter into our daily life. In the wet weather in this gambling dance I was not at

peace. While I tried to forget about him, the saga with Pierre went on. Crying out for the light I‘d ignore his fumbling calls, and always seeking what was always there, he’d appear standing frozen at my doorsteps, rejected simply positioned himself in the night-wind and open heavy-dew . .By now I had abandoned my friends and didn’t go out with them anymore, I spend a great deal of my time alone nursing voids and loneliness. Waiting for an ideal time that Amadeus and I could finally be together was a bit like dying. Against the weight of things, I was lost. And since I was never going to allow

myself to become that incoscient there was nothing others could do for me and didn’t

want friends to call me anymore. When I ‘d go out for long walks on my own after my errands were done I’d change in my pajama, turn in my bedroom and chase the blues puffing on marijuana. That is it! Moreover, the only way I knew to take care of the situation. Well, this is how my friends and I embraced problems, it’s just that I didn’t want them to be smoking with me and telling jokes how I was supposed to be good at sulking. I was impatient for a change, waiting for him, righteous alien...

Still nobody would have ever known the supreme solitude while I tried to purify myself.

I had never been alone, neither did I ever need to be, I always had tons and tons of people, family and friends around me. I never ever needed to do any thinking for myself,

Everyone always did all the thinking for me, my life programmed in a system that hardly required meditating, especially Pierre did not encourage that sort of action, and every day

I wept for something that was dead gone forever and depending on a talking voice

beyond, unsealed language somewhere until the point I decided I was no longer living. Thus, when Pierre began to exercise his offensive role I was almost glad to see him. Pierre never posed questions. I never asked for anything either. In the silence together we shook against illusions, fucking crumpling screwing the world reclaiming ,relieved we had a lust, and except for spasmodic cries , uttering of moments of gratification that left us powerless we found little to talk about or sometimes ‘It’s me” he’d whisper like a stranger would. In the face of walls, a world full of gulfs and limited communication of experience a vital though narrow interest often could transform the boundaries and character of our relationship. The notion that works of art are the only means of complete and unhindered communication between people over the edge of dreams ultimately would put us working and growing there. While creating melancholy and need to talk,

Pierre without hesitation would flatten and turn the central importance of communication into dynamic parable expansions and tragic themes of art.

Illusions of spatial situations that in nature never appeared to insert them or synthesize themselves in any logical structure, these visual perspectives that Pierre would have me want to study. The exigencies and want of dialogue would have me chase Pierre his thoughts, expressions on paper canvasses line patterns and colors he himself blotched daily, unfocused delineations and demarcations that lost themselves in multiple directions , false colors without name, an infinite variety of braggadocio that tricked one’s attention from blankness into ascending curious spying. Pierre was always amused whenever I drawn by a particular force and mass would get excited because I felt the reasoned handling and mixture of abstractions.

Chapter 8

The fact that I had met another man, had fallen in love had not alarmed Pierre.

“You can rest assured and ease your mind “ he told me while blowing smoke

As far as I’m concerned, it’s none of my business what you do with your life.”

It had saddened me to hear him say that . His the air of one who can easily move aside and give another the lead away and I hurt because I never had been able to stir Pierre emotionally and wished Pierre could fall in love someday. He would make love to me in silence and shared magical moments but whenever he thought I became imprudent he could built a distance of hostility that would easily destroy all traces of intimacy between us... I felt and suffered these moments with an intense desperation, unspoken angst that reduced me to a spiritless condition and not wanting to understand and suffer.

Thus, Pierre remained unmoved in behavior and manners, hauled under my covers

After our delights, I would watch Pierre dress and see him leave my apartment, at times without as much as gaze back or goodbye.

“Have you ever thought of changing your way of life?” I would ask.

“Naturally”

“But then…” I would try to pursue.

“But then what …” he would smile mischievously. Pierre would then try to avoid further conversation, would roll on his side to look at me. Straining himself upright sensing my arm he would let me roll on my belly round and round. For my sake and because he knew I enjoyed the game he’d keep the circling moon in place. When he got me all silly and giggly he would grab me by my hair, nail me down and fall on top of me.

“Look “he would tell me persuasively unfurling my legs, binding me to travel up and down his body, turning my head to acknowledge his tower now leaning.

“You see Natalie , it’s all right here you see, everything you want, everything you will ever need , it’s all right here.”

I had started out to tell him how happy he had made me but the shocking truth of what he demanded I worship tamed my tongue. Pierre horrified me in words and actions and he shocked me. .My mood grew angry and discouraged by the peccant vanity and I was forced once again to reflect on how he moved in and out of my life freely without ever allowing me to protest ,how I disliked his cursing tales , the pornographic gesticulating… Perhaps he was an intermediate species I do not longer know but I do know that I couldn’t figure out why I was still letting him in bed.

“It will end up in disaster. That man is not right for you. He will not understand you. He will not understand your needs. You’re warm, affectionate, and constantly need to manifest it, he’s a professional, finds outlet in his work, he wouldn’t hear your request, and if he will… he’d be on guard to answer them.”

And having had his say, threw a pillow at me.

“Oh yeah” I kept looking at him but felt like something holding me back.

“Oh yeah! You have met this guy at a low phase in your life. You have been probably been feeling down and you’ve been attracted by his adulation. Maybe it happened…”

He went on to suggest

” that at the time when you met him the constant need for adulation to which you are accustomed to was not being properly satisfied and in that rare phase, because you felt inferior, you have been attracted by characteristics that as a norm you don’t particularly like”

“No, that is not true... It is not like that at all. I like everything about him. I like him.

I love him. Pierre I have fallen incredibly in love with him.”

And I could not contain my fervor anymore, and I told him this time openly how I loved Amadeus. Pierre had never allowed me to talk about love. He had cautioned me repeatedly how I should not go falling in love with and I myself had thought not a good idea, because neither did, I wish to be bound to him forever. From this standpoint I felt my conscience in place, all that Pierre and I agreed and shared were sexual experiences all that he thought should be of interest to me should be making love, his exquisite body, muscular weapon, all that he precisely insisted reflected his entire psyche. If I never paid more attention to Pierre or showed respect was because he never let his guard down and allowed me to neither understand much about him nor really know anymore more about his life. It was especially for these reasons that thought our lovemaking a state of intense emotions but that after its movements I felt void and wasted.. He never failed to surprise me neither, because of his attitude he injected diffidence and dissociation. Sometimes Pierre would deliberately create improvise situations where in the midst one would have to endure and participate in whatever craziness dictated him as for the instance the incident I am about to recount.

That swoon of wastefulness after the transportation of love had thrown us in a torpid sleep when we interrupted suddenly by an insistent beat at the door. Both bedrooms on the top level permitted a continuous view from the raised elevated ceiling the floor level, from the room on the left however that which I occupied I could see as far as the porch. I saw Cornelia look up at my window. Cornelia was a friend of the family. Reciprocal affections and cares supported our friendship; we had known one another since kindergarten... At five years old, Cornelia and I attended our first day of school together,

at fifteen we spent long hours together in front of our textbooks and discussing instead

the latest hairstyles and new products in cosmetics, now in our twenties we still had many things in common but found it rather monotonous and simply uninteresting the time the in between visits. Sprung from our humble background, well-mannered, timid Cornelia kept me down to earth, and permitted the gap and back to a familial atmosphere,

Whenever Cornelia was not there I felt more liberated ,I was able to remove myself from the conventional reasoning and political correctives that so describes her, she was a reminder that I was a carrier of a conscience bigger then myself. Our get together now were always mixed with presages and uneasiness. Cornelia did not approve of Pierre his little respect he showed for me or people in general and while I knew my intoxication was humiliating to have Cornelia repeatedly remind me of it with bitter snap reproaches broke me into despair. I had often thought about it, our friendship I mean, if Fay at times seemed rather shallow in her moral dimension, I preferred the aesthetic distance.

In any case, I never needed to make excuses for myself to Fay.

As soon as I realized Cornelia was at the door I motioned to Pierre to stay quiet and in hiding. He did not mind that, likewise he was not taken with Cornelia either; Pierre was an arrogant snob; he was infact of the most bizarre obsessions with a constant need to see elegance and lush of feelings in people, people who were marvelously inventive. He could not see he did not believe that I was not that much different from her, that in my point we were very much alike. Pierre had wanted me to ignore her visit but noticing the road covered with snow and Cornelia trying to bundle up and protect herself from the angry temperature I let go of Pierre grip and ran downstairs to open up for her. Coming suddenly to door, I remember that we had agreed to meet as usual for our Saturday trip to Kensington market where we shopped for fresh fruit and vegetables. Well, Cornelia was

furious, and demanded to know why I was not yet dressed and ready to go. I stepped back apologetic trying to cover up my negligence with a plausible and credulous lie when in midst of my shameless tale, in amiable triumph, amused Pierre appeared in view,

“Cornelia, hi, how is you?” he greeted and laughed in a benevolent voice.

“Oh I didn’t know you were here,” she said and neither did she try to conceal that she was annoyed as she followed me into the kitchen in her Bettie Davis’s eyes.

We sat the three of us in the kitchen in tension waiting for Pierre to make his departure but he showed no signs of wanting to leave anytime soon and his social attitude was not an exception this time either. Who know how many times he had put me on the spot, trying me in similar situation and embarrassed me in front of my friends. It was hard for me to determine what Pierre would do next or if his mood take a sudden turn for the worst. Time and practice had taught me to avoid unpleasant situations and I had done my best to keep Pierre hidden and out of the picture. I knew how submissive I was with him. How he imposed his personality and how little assertive I was or able to make any decisions and thus again I was feeling oppressed and not able to take control of the situation. Pierre now was walking around my living room spying as if in its core he had been a stranger to it. He had taken a book from the shelf and loosening the pages pretended to be all caught up, in the meanwhile Cornelia sitting in the corner with her arms thrashed on one side stared at the television. In rancor, I went into the kitchen and fixed everyone a drink. During the night we had spend together Pierre had gulped down many martinis and now that I was passing the round he decided he would pass up on it and just sit and just stare at us drink:

“No, I don not trust those Trojan drinks of yours. Cornelia” he called out to my friend

‘Your friend here is alright, but as far as mixing drinks and bartending she is a nix

Vaporis… Exestantive Anatomia MotoCordis a Sanguinia “ he then read staring down at the book in his hand.

‘What? What is it? Say please translate this for me Nathalie, I read this Latin just Turk Turk read English.”

I ignored him. Cornelia now was looking at him somewhat amused and obliged now to look straight in his direction assumed a moderate attitude though still resolved ,prepared to keep Pierre in his place. There was no doubt about it, Pierre was handsome thus richly dressed and richer even in beauty. He had guessed from Cornelia’s benevolent eyes and reserved admiration that he was welcomed to stay and he had come over to sit down by Cornelia and holding up his alcohol, he was looking at her elonged legs. She hugged them and then unlocked her fingers and then gathering her skirt in front to cover her legs. He talked to her about things without nature amused at her agony.

He had his arm around my shoulder but he was running his eyes along her legs. I could see that he was pleased that he could create tension and cause discomfort and now that things were becoming abundantly clear and Pierre foolishness multiplied, I was certain that Pierre was a lunatic. I quickly broke away from his embrace:

“Relax babe. You are so tense. Cornelia!” he called out to my friend again.

“Yes “she glanced politely

“Tell me, do you believe in birth control” he solicited

“Shut up!’ I snapped staring him down.

“No, really I would really be interested in Cornelia opinion in the matter. I want to be able to, sharpen my ability to communicate and discuss things among intelligent people.

I have the outmost respect for here Cornelia, she’s a teacher right, you are a teacher

Am I correct?”

“Yes’ replied Cornelia with the attitude that she should be quiet about her contentment

“Why any particular reason you would ask?”

“Well I think it’s an important issue that needs to be discussed. It’s important that I stay up to date with the ladies on the issue”

“Ok. I think it’s up to the individuals the couple involved to decide on the matter”

“Yes you are right. The couple involved. Well, we have decided. Nathalie and I have decided. No birth control for us. Nathalie does not believe in birth control. Yes madam,

no mad’, m no birth controls” and was speaking and looking at me in fake awe,

an awful way to, stare without devotion, to demand and know what I had been thinking.

“It remains in our power to procreate. Oh definitely, no birth control. Why just think!”

He went on nodding and gesturing with his hands all over the place, as if caught in the midst of a new mystical vision

“The power to procreate in the hands of two individuals. The power of it all! The power to create another life. Nathalie, just think, to have it within us, to be able to create a life.

It is so fantastic! It’s absolutely fantastic!”

Worshipped and loved that is what I had wanted but I’d seen him reveal his rotten self so many times before and all this talk was all about getting all he wanted all over again. Quite aware of his fondness for theatricality, I managed to praise the plus of being a man and suspected he knew I was not falling for it. I had been trying everything to compose myself; I realized those things we would say in fun were full of fucking freighting stupid ideas. Very slowly loosed myself from that sudden something snuggle and went into the kitchen to pour me another drink, in there I pondered on things that Pierre had never mentioned before and now I could not get the idea out of my mind.

Once alone in the kitchen I began to empty out cupboard and do some cleaning, just to

do some thing and catch my breath,

“It’s not going to work out. “He kept on repeating, “She cannot see it. . . Obviously, there could be anything to it . Nothing can ever come out of it...She is considering this man for convenience sake, financial interest, security, but I am sure this man is not for her. The trouble with her she is always falling in love. She wants to please and easily falls in love. Ok, she feels bad for this person, he is willing to wait an eternity for her, but she will have to tell him, learn to move her feet in the right direction. She will tell that man that it is all over between them and there will be no more need of these talks. Is that right Nathalie? It is not going to work out, just look at her history and relationship, breakups, separation, divorces. I am right, what do you think Cornelia? Our friend in there, I tell you, she is gullible and she is easily deceived by appearances. What she really wants is a comfortable life. She does not see it, she has fallen for him for assurance, psychological support financial and security comfort but I am sure the man is not right for her. The trouble with her she is always falling in love. She wants to please and immediately falls in love. Ok, he’s a nice guy and she doesn’t want to hurt him but she will just have to tell him it cannot be, she will just have to learn to move her feet in the right direction, be honest and tell him that it is over and there is will be no more of these talks. Correctomundo?”

“Get Out” I yelled uncaring and in weariness

“You’re a whore you know! Cornelia your friend in there is a whore. She loves to screw

the world. But she will learn that too that she cannot screw the whole world’’

Until then I had not seen Pierre betray any feelings, used to the dejection, impartiality his unaffected attitude when I had wanted to reach him in the past when I had wanted to love him and he couldn’t be bothered. He is a loser I was thinking and stood now

sitting, scared watching him pound the walls a few feet away unable to make out a sound of my breathing

“You see Cornelia, there are things one must do in order to be understood” then when he guessed he was as good as finished that he had gone too far, looked around the room for his shoes :

“It’s ok. I wouldn’t bother you again.”

This settled once for all I waited until he was gone then I ran to the front door after him and standing at the threshold, broke down, and began to sob hysterically.

‘This sort of thing would never happen again”. I told Cornelia when I remembered she was still there She had done her best till then to meet the difficulty in silence but there was no doubt that she thought I was to blame for it all.

Chapter 9

I was not under a condition to decide in freedom realized and take full of control of my life. Amadeus continued to be supportive and encourage taking things one day at time,

moreover, with diligence serenity and determination I should try to overcome the obstacles. However he couldn’t have known nor guessed how entangled things had gotten and how messed up I really was, in view of the facts Amadeus would have much less enchanted with me and the interpretation of the image he had built of the two of us , living for one another and in one . Why had I not been able to convince him of a double requirement, encourage, argue that the time and space was an important factor and it was destroying us? Everyday I had sinned and with less shame. Neither had I taken any responsibility, to top it all, Pierre suddenly had come to spit hell. Suddenly brutal he had put an end to our lawless deviation and banality of our relationship I had no defense nor just motives except a vulgar licentiousness and in so doing destroyed all hopes for a new beginning with my love. I had just lived a sublime experience and a final offense. Oh, it was hard to leave my bedroom and show my face around after that. I stayed put lying in bed like a stupid useless cadaver. My bedroom too now seemed crammed of reminders of Pierre torpid objects showing all over the place the one I despised, Rolling g up and down in sight like a ship in troubled sea the waterbed Pierre had fixed in a massive mahogany bedpost with the images of Greek deities Pierre himself had carved and smothered. Like an altar, he had raised my bed five feet from the ground but the top I knew was immensely far higher. Had I been more careful I could have avoided feeling being tricked and humiliated. Pierre he had always been in bad faith and I had been paying attention I would have discovered that he had changed his tactics. Having become aware that his apathy no longer disturbed me he had chosen the quickest solution and lose me. I think he wanted to destroy my self-esteem and me. He hurt me so bad but though I thought myself bleeding within, I could not feel any pain. I was not even angry any more after a while I began to sense nothing, smell nothing, feel nothing. Many times before I had rehearsed this moment and our breaking up and going our own way. Itt had always felt like I was dying, that something was dying inside anyway. Whenever I thought of Pierre and I breaking up, I always thought of death. Sometimes I thought of grief, sorrow. The grief like one feels from having to depart from a loved one, to be absent from the common sight of the ones you are always with, their constant and ordinary presence in your life, their unbroken affection and unchanging love. Yes, I had imagined I had wanted Pierre to suffer, to feel the pain. In any case, I had preferred him to be the one to suffer more! Once again, he had been one step ahead of me. There was no pain I was feeling, nothing I had imagined or sensed this feeling to be. This was a ceasing of a sullen and brute bearing, the end of a lingering and torturous endurance. He had cleverly removed the stimulus of pain. . Infect Pierre would not have believe it if I told him now that I no longer wished him to suffer. that I wanted something to exist, to happen for him as well. I wanted him to let me go and be happy . He would have never believe me if I told him that I wished him to be happy as well. Wanting to he could have build himself a new life had if he really wanted. Things did not have to be tragic. He could find someone else seek for himself a just and healthier relationship on another level, a serene relationship where he could find peace of mind and even happiness. Well of course, happiness, real happiness perhaps that is never possible. Real happiness, maybe it does not really exist, not in the way Amadeus intended. maybe I didn’t believe it entirely that it was possible to be completely happy , not in this earth anyhow, but I did believe that given the right ingredients two people when willing to work together for a common goal could arrive at a certain contentment and wellness together. Every since I’d met Amadeus I thought this sort of happiness might be possible an interior peace and sense of solidarity a patient delicate partner that understands you and is there by your side.

I am prone to depression spells and this was not the first time that I ever felt this lousy but this dark mood I had sunk in this time topped the cake. I was filled with self hatred, despised myself and feeling cheap and unworthy forced to face myself and disliking everything about myself. An eternity passed before I decided to answer Amadeus calls.

It was strange really the way Amadeus had become someone so fixed and permanent in my thoughts. Essentially retrograde cautious with Pierre instead with Amadeus I could open up to and tell him what I was thinking feeling and he would be there too, listening., supportive, encouraging communication and feeling like it was very important, being able to communicate . When talking to Amadeus I thought that in order to carry on I needed to stay calm and deal with things serenely; but neither did I want to go on and keep more secrets. For us I wanted , I needed an honest relationship a fresh new beginning, I needed to know that Amadeus understood that I was trying to change, or trying to become myself and didn’t want to be Pierre’s s mould anymore that I needed to settle a few things with my past before beginning a new life with him. I was worn out on the phone and really did not know how to explain thing, what I did know was that I loved the sound of his voice, that his words were soothing and blessed. Amadeus told me repeatedly on the phone that he loved me rescuing me back to our dreams that I could not help but feel hopeful all over again. While tears, anguish, and the knowledge that I could not keep silent anymore checked my speech, I also felt so happy reassured that Amadeus was different that he would not desert me and leave me, that we could work things out together. It was important to tell him things and not keep secrets , I decided ,especially for rigorous and obligatory characters like Amadeus and myself where loyalty and honesty was important.

Had we been different make the two of us… perhaps… my silence would have certainly minimized further possibilities and extreme decisions. It was impossible to deceive Amadeus in any case, he was always very assertive and nothing ever seemed to escape him or go unnoticed where I was concerned. My vexation, my problem I kept telling him is that we could not be together physically, and this time I let myself go in delirium… I wanted to go on living the present making love, not plan and program a future that might or might not be; that I was a fatalist in any case and the future would take care of itself.

I felt lonely,alone, I needed him beside me, I didn’t trust myself, I needed him I needed his strength I needed to forget about Pierre , I needed Amadeus….

“I have a problem “I blurred out

” it is important that I confide in you. I have a problem I had hoped to solve alone but it has now become too huge for me to solve alone. It’s not enough to talk things over the phone, I’m coming to Europe because I cannot cope with this situation anymore”

My decision had an effect on everyone’s mood around me. Come what may, I had made the right decision. At the beginning my friends had thought my new romance refreshing and an inspiration, but also noticed that I was gradually cutting out all ties with everyone and spending less time with them. I was spending most of my free time writing letters to Amadeus or learning new cooking recipes and really neglecting everybody. My friends were also to agree that my decision to go and see Amadeus in Europe was a wise one. They definitely thought that I should try to react and do something more with my life. It had become ridiculous my lifestyle, no more movies, no more theatre productions, no more parties, no more eating out, no, no more get together with friends if I might be allowed to repeat myself I lived in function of Amadeus.

Chapter 10

It happened that Keith moved in with Gwen in our townhouse as soon as I decided to go and see Amadeus. Bert the Persian cat also moved in with Keith and so did Crystal a chinchilla that must have weighed at least 20 pound and Eubak the small canine that had no teeth to it except for one left tooth remaining at the bottom. Keith fed it pablum morning and night as one would as if they were feeding a baby. The place as far as I was concerned had become a chaos and it was obvious that things were changing...

I had been so taken with myself that I had not paid attention to all that had been happening in Gwen’s life as well and that this was a turning point in her life too. I certainly did not enjoy peace of mind, stressed out like hell from worrying too much, Keith’s moving in was a distraction from thinking about the same damn things. Sometimes I would feel like a heavy shadow was hanging over my head and that it might try to do something to prevent me from going to see Amadeus. It had become so important that I go see him and I was afraid that something might come up and prevent me from taking my trip, fears developing in panic and anxiety attacks while I imagined the worst and thought about all the absurdities that any mind could produce. I was afraid that Pierre might show up and do something crazy and prevent me from going ahead with my plans and when one day went by, I took deep breaths and when each day went by undisturbed I was relieved that things were going smooth and Pierre was not causing any commotion. The anxiety went hand in hand with the anticipation and high hopes of being with Amadeus. The longing and yearning to be with him gave me strength and whenever I stopped and thought about him I thought there was nothing that love

could not overcome and conquer. Negative thoughts that in past impeded me from acting and taking charge of things were set aside. Inside my being, within I could hear my own heart palpitating soliciting my spirit, exhausting , anticipating with joy a reunion with Amadeus. Planning the trip was just as much fun as getting there because I felt happy, I also thought I would be a lot calmer afterwards after I had a chance to talk to him and cleared the air about everything. It was terrible when I thought I might be rejected that Amadeus might not want to forgive me that he might turn me away yet I decided to stay positive and face the future with courage. I went out to shop for few things a needed for the trip and a gift for Amadeus. Through a private book collector, I was able to buy exclusive music books of Mozart and Bach, the books bounded in leather and wood, and carving executed by the same artist. Concave carvings in designs of playful foliages and interlaces while band ran across the borders of the book and the elegant letterings also gold plated prominently convex also looked smart .

Amadeus worried about the financial aspect and extra expenses I was facing and offered to pay for my trip but I would not hear of it. I did not care of problems of financial character either , nor did it ever cross my mind that I may be laid off at work, nor did I worry about telling my family and friends that I was leaving on a trip, no, I decided to keep everyone in the dark about it. My friends too who constantly worried about missing talk of the town events could never understand how I could even think about leaving all of this behind me , if I did indeed decide to move to Europe and live with Amadeus.

Deep down inside I thought I knew the truth and the future, I did not think Amadeus would be able to overcome and overlook my deception. This would probably be the last time I would see him though it would be worth all the trouble and effort. Amadeus filled my heart and head with joy that I was spinning from dizziness. The happiness a joy that

I had come to know with him I had never known or felt before I never knew it could exist

and for that, I was willing to travel the distance and be with him. Yet we were essentially strangers, we had never been together intimately. A night of travel we spent on the train but that had changed both our lives. And I had asked myself over and over how can it be possible how can it happen that a short encounter a person a stranger can come to mean so much or for anybody to fall in love so; but in spite of myself I felt I loved him so much.. Though I realized how crazy this situation had become this singular event in my life had come to mean so much, had come to be so marvelous, truly the most wonderful thing that had ever happened to me. I was on my way to see a man I had met but once in my lifetime in a city I had never been before. I felt connected nevertheless that we had bonded in way that rarely happens in a lifetime. Above the ground from the airplane I sat and stared at the clouds below us, they were like white cotton balls light and soft. I also thought about Pierre and believed from the bottom of my heart I had a different vision of the world in spite of what he thought of me that I lived by a different morality and was not what he wanted and with this new sense of being and wanting I sat out for Europe..

Chapter 11

I don’t believe I’m exaggerating when I say that as soon as I caught site of him in the airport I had the impression of standing in front of a living statue, a solid and concrete monumental structure the likes of a Coliseum and finding myself embraced wrapped in a immobile august strength, felt unquestionably strong and beautiful. It was thus the impression in seeing Amadeus again was gratifying. His whole self better then any memory and notion I had been entertaining as the exceptional corpulent shoulder and arms and dark complexion all poured harmoniously in my view. The angular face calmly heightened by distinguished cheekbones setting his eyes deeper , the roman nose indicative and revealing an indestructible association were all causes of excitement and blessing :

“Welcome my love, welcome!”

He had greeted me thus and as by impulse I had ran straight for his open arms. I still think it was astonishing had everything had been unwinding in a natural manner and our reunion so what I had expected it to be. Being together again when I had wanted it for so long and feeling Amadeus to be the one I have always wanted, convinced that we were very much in love, too much in love. It was the most extraordinary love that had ever touched a man and woman though I did not know it then, the savored intensity; rhapsody and moments of our reunion remain the most complete and fulfilling of my life. No sooner I was in arms that I had wanted to abandon myself completely, wanting nothing but the opportunity to surrender, neither did I ever stop and think about the circumstances for in an enchantment similarly to the one I was living one can no longer impose judgment but simply wishes things to be. In love, esoteric and lightheaded never questioned or gave any thought beyond the present I was living and simply happy to be living each moment by his side and just leaving things to reveal itself in their state of being and condition. The anguish and certainty of loving and the courage that failed me to disclose to Amadeus the truth and violation and Pierre also reduced me to an inviolable solitude. Amadeus constant attention beyond the norm and his showering me daily with surprised and gifts, his ways and words that almost seemed to convert itself into poetic states convinced me further that I was living an incomparable experience almost magical a newfound happiness and harmony, the discovery of a continuous infinite universe. Amadeus seemed to be the perception of light himself, new interior world revealed, a new awareness of mingling within a world of scattered treasures stimulating all new sensations. The reality indeed was all too uncommon and queer altogether and different at the same time with this new understanding of myself magnated as one with him. It was a good thing to love him, it was right to be loved thus, I trusted him beyond any questionable doubt. . Having allowed him to become master of my will and thoughts, I lived and existed only in the peak of those emotions quite fused in him and annihilated obsolete in his bones.

“It’s true you know” he laughed in a cautionary tale “At time a bell rings and it is a sign that he or she is your woman or your man and it cannot be any other. That bell I heard often that first night we met, now it seems that an entire mixture of bells and campaniles around me but mind you”

he continued to smile humorously

“: Their sound indeed melodious”

Driving along the country road on our way into Milan I also felt very susceptible to the Italian soil, the Lombard cypresses, the scattered houses and small churches in the countryside. The smell of the earth the sounds of nature in the air and distant cow’s bells

singing and grazing in the fields all seem to fit naturally and connect harmoniously in a superb synthesis and the two of us caught trapped and dominated in one mutual expression. I felt released, given a new freedom to be, reborn with him, downloading new modes of thinking and viewing the world around me. If at times I still find myself expressing ideas that were distinctively Amadeus and because they have become a simpler and logical consequential way of expressing myself.. The fight for our relationship to survive had become a real issue with Amadeus the new awakening of time being an essence and precious for us. My surrender then being so total and words gradually becoming superfluous, as fallen in oblivion. In this state of dream as if incorporated in the Amedeo, incorporated in Milan it’s boulevards the vitality and furious burst of voices and pleasant sound of the mother tongue that I thought\our love depended on those roots, in all that was surrounding us and our reunion not an end product but a part of a continuous cycle.

“You know Natalia” Amadeus was coaxing as we were passing Milan

“I have not forgiven you yet”

Alarmed and frightened that what had seemed eternal chimera and brief moment had already passed and though I knew that I should not look for any justification and excuses

I was not ready to face the consequences for what I thought was coming. I wanted more time with him, I needed more time to show him how much I cared before he decided anything about us and I had a strong sense that every minute counted and that time should not be ill-used. Loaded with self-defense, like someone who cannot find or grapple all delicate talking, I thirstily caught his sight and swaying gently in his arms for a closer affinity, eager to cancel those moments he had wondered away and draw his attention to my desire and want of him. I whispered:

“You have not forgiven me yet?”

“That is correct, for not having understood that it certainly was not Fay the center of my attention that evening we met on the train. How could you have made a blunder of the kind? Miracles are talked of the female sensitivity and sixth sense. The abrupt and rushed manner in which I left and of which you spoke of was authentic, I was in a hurry to catch my next train for Turin but did you not have figure out howI was kissing you in a different manner from your friends, or were you bluffing in your letter?”

I had feared the worst, I had been scared of him but now I knew there was a lot about him I did not know or even begin to predict and I was annoyed with myself for his had notice of my confusion and difficulty.

“You rather liked her, admit it, I saw how you enjoyed being grandiloquent with her and spoke to her for most of the time.”

“Yes but at the same time I didn’t take my eyes off you. Don’t tell me you didn’t notice that either?.”

Well, I had noticed ,I told him, but I was thrilled at the degree he was revealing himself that at last we had met again and he was definitely taking off his hat before me.

Chapter 12

Amadeus’s family, Mrs. Maffei, Mr. Maffei and Patricia immediately began to inquire about my background, my family, education, work, interests and wonder how it happened for Amadeus to fall in love with a whim like myself.

Dinner was filled with immense tenseness and it reminded me of when I was a child forced to sit at the table before the rest of the family and wait till all the adults were done with their meal and we could be excused. Amadeus’s efforts and devotion were everything so that while his family only wished to ask me questions and agitate when he looked at me I was made to fear little so that their critical sarcasm and fault finding amounted to nothing at all. His sister Patrizia a young girl, slender and delicate, appeared to possess less malice than her parents and as the evening progressed she seemed to have made up her mind to like me. Pleased with what she had learned from me she tried to make association and test her knowledge of whatever she knew about Canada and Canadians:

“I think of Canada” she told me

” as it being a huge forest, a boundless sea of forest, wilderness and woods and tundra, a strip of snow in other words just like Voltaire described it books”.

She had wanted to know about the aboriginal people, Indian reserves, she wanted to know about Eskimos and igloos and spoke of them as if they were not quite real as if they were some sort of mythical characters from fairy tales lands and did not really exist.

Mrs. Maffei fair-haired, well dressed had listened to me with elegant taste, dignified confidence and deep involvement that I had began to feel accepted; instead she was never to approve of me. She was capable of deep criticism and she would let me know that

there was nothing flattering about me not one adulatory quality she could address and that I definitely should lean on her better judgment and large experience. I invented the most edifying conversations to have Mrs. Maffei like me better, approve of me while all the time she never changed her opinions and ideas about me. What irritated me mostly about her and got me on my nerves was the way she criticized my sense of taste clothes and fashion the way she went about feeling and touching the material of my clothes , pointing out cheap textiles, make, brand names or simply criticizing me for my negligence not being very selective or fashion conscious. In just a few days Mrs. Maffei had arranged for a whole new look and new wardrobe for my choosing and eager to shape up and feel accepted I followed her into shops and beauty salon around town. But she kept me at a distance and more eagerly I set myself as a mannequin concerning myself with what would make her look at me with less annoyance worrying myself silly with what she might be thinking about me all the time. In the days to come I spoke less afraid of saying the wrong thing and making a ass out of myself and except when I was asked and whenever Amadeus and I were both in her company I would put in an effort and try to maintain a familiar discourse or talk. Though Amadeus’s father appeared from the start self-contained and self-sufficient, finding very little of interest in his home (he was never home) I did not understand him not liking me and neither could I define any good feelings. The little I could establish about him was in fact that very little interested him, that he was a self-made man and could no be bothered looking down on life anymore, and so while Mr. Maffei was to remain indifferent to a new presence in his house. Mrs. Maffei was never to approve of me and Patrizia too self-absorbed and fickle to care, I in turn got turned off and was never again to be infatuated by any of them . Amadeus’s family talked whopping, behemoth and I was made to feel that Amadeus and I were

realms apart and that I need not get any closer. I never discussed it with him feeling most obliged to like his family. My best choice should have been perhaps not to let them get to me the way they did; but I was stupid enough to believe that I could cope with all their absurdities. The more I made the stupid mistake of always going along with them and agreeing with them when I should have laughed in their face instead, the angrier I grew inside. One thing was certain, I could not make up my mind on how to behave with his parents and that from the start they struck me as being concerned with ludicrous appearances and engrossed with such extravagances that I believed even Amadeus disliked.

The interior arrangement in Amadeus’s home contained little order and at the same time, everything seemed strangely in place. In living room a smaller extension to dining room sat the pianoforte of which Amadeus had fondly spoken of and where he says he spend most of his free time. The pianoforte was flooded in light as opposed to the rest of the shadowy room. Though I was not a prominent and learned listener in music, I tell that Amadeus was a flawless and impeccable musician. To amuse me and lighten the tension that had grown around us he began to play more spontaneously. He told me he was good at setting short poems in music and wanted me to try singing some of them along with him:

“Son dur , lo seu. Son dur ma I parlo a get

Ch’ an l’anima tar mola, n de lui

Che je pa dep stup se d cosa ma

I piase a pena a pena a l’un percent”

This song described him beautifully, so he said. I was happy to be with him yet I knew Amadeus and I needed the time to get to know one another better and it wouldn’t be long before I had to leave again and return back home and at work. I knew I should talk to him but I never seemed to find the right time and the right things to say. Whenever I suggested we talk about ourselves our past, Amadeus would simply say things like:

“We are here now, that is what counts. We are the same two people. You and I are the same two people who met on the train that night and fell in love. I feel closer to you than I ever felt with any other person in this life. I do not remember anybody else of my past or anything else. I need you. You are here now, with me! I could not live without you anymore. Natalie listens….” He would say

“The past is no more. There is no more past. There are now, us, you and I. I am in love with you, and I need it because I have loved only you. Natalie, love, you made me fall in love, I don’t just see you as beautiful and pure but you have done what other have not been able to do, for me falling in love is paramount the maximum that can exist… I look at you see you objectively and splendid reality.”

I tried to make sense of what he wanted to say to me but at the same time I was trying to buy time, postpone having to tell him what I was too ashamed to tell and filled with guilt

I did not understand that Amadeus was playing his own little game and challenging me

to argue and question things and the situation we had created.

I slept in a room that looked down in the garden and felt soothed by the view whenever I peeped out the window; the landscape like music assuaging seemed especially designed as one that should never interfere with busy living. A continual gravel path flanked by meadows of grass, spiraled with flowers boards, of butter cups, peonies, trillium and

incomparable profusion of wild flowers, and infinite rolling fields of open areas created a most luscious and delectable atmosphere. The guest room was furnished with a huge spatial armoires and classical sleigh bed, a chest with conceived drawers all speaking a French tradition of highest quality. I tossed and turned on my first night stay. I tossed and turned on my stomach on my side to want to find solutions alternatives and feeling that I needed time to think things through and understand Amadeus better, try to get to know him better. It had seemed to me that once again he had broken away from my embrace with extraordinary suddenness and dismissed me such quickness that I was tempted to turn back and hold on to him have him hold me in his arms in the same way he had held me in the airport.. Certainly, there was nothing mediocre about Amadeus nor his family or home but right from the start I had a feeling that I did not measure up and as result felt very tense and nervous and many more doubts that began to accumulate as I spent night after night without rest or sleep. Amadeus’s solemn loyalty and familiarity with his daily routine made me fearful and worried that I might create some displeasure I in turn established that what felt a very mechanical routine. He adored me I thought and never lost opportunity to shower me with attention and small gestures of tenderness yet in no respect did he urge to help to gladden the unhappiness that grew day after day especially with his family and the unfortunate incidents and run ins causing bitter feelings . He said we should concentrate on our relationship and us alone and that he did not get along with his family and all that arguing in his home had nothing to do with me. He thought it practical and important to emphasize the daily routine, get used to the idea of domestic scenery, and in order words understand that the obedience and order of his house was superior. I found it all too straining, his family, whose eager and vague aspirations I felt short, and Amadeus passive attitude did not put me at ease either. Amadeus was neither devoted to efforts that are more romantic; though full of kindness always imparting a wish to want me to feel at ease and encouraging I would ask for whatever I desired. He was so extremely well mannered and proper. At times he seemed very little concerned with reasonable silly emotions and neither did he appreciate wasting time with senseless activities that were not instructive in somewhat way cultural or of some educational nature. While I had been used to reading in Amadeus of most delicate sentiments, in person he seemed rather cold and someone who kept you at a distance . .Needless to say I was very happy when Amadeus drove me into town to Turin and away from the watchful eyes of family and all the bickering. And definitely happy to be looking at the world other then from the other side of a window. I had not felt a la pare with Amadeus I did not feel cultivated enough or even intelligent, feeling always that there was a great deal of wisdom and experience I did not possess. Amadeus himself was now teaching me to refrain me from talking too much as not to leave me with any doubt that they had all great merits his family and himself; and it was impossible to surmount the difference in class between us. The knowledge that Italian are by nature naturally snobs didn’t help, they think themselves superior teachers and think they must act as a model for the entire world and the world must learn from the examples they provide. They are no dissuading them from thinking that way, they think monumentally and the world always still revolving around Cesar.

The city of Turin is awe aspiring in any case and I thought nostalgically monarchic. I was quite satisfied with the production and appreciation of beauty producing in my senses and I am not sure whether it was because Amadeus had already said something earlier that had put me in a bad mood but I found the excursion less pleasant as he expected me to

spy and read rhetoric is and symbols into every building. My historical curiosity in comparison to the aesthetic pleasure was always much less, instead I felt I was being lectured, in the modern intellectual and revolutionary spirited Turin I felt I had given in an entire political social history of Caesar’s Julia Augusta Torinous that by the end I felt heavy with so much information. And it is not that I did not enjoy learning and wanting to see more of Turin but I hoped that some time alone away from his family would give us some privacy and a chance to talk especially about ourselves. In. Amadeus went on avoiding discussing the squabbles that had taken place between he and his family during my stay as if it were commonplace. We sat on foot to visit Palazzo Madama , the Borgo and lastly San Lorenzo Church. The Borgo a monument constructed in celebration of Centennial Unity, a caricature and medieval imitation showed skills soft and subtle feelings and a statement of what Turin is. San Lorenzo the Church hosting the Holy Shroud was that what captivated me the most. You cannot help but feel a profound and spiritual elevation in approaching the Shine. Moreover, whether the Shroud is Real and the Cloth the very one to hold Jesus’ body the thought that it might be is in itself a very powerful thing. The Church in its fantastic and unusual picturesque motifs, geometric complications and acute sharpness steers as you feel the dizzy tension as you follow these designs dreaming upwards in spires. I felt dizzy, .unable to fix my glance in any particular place, as setup seemed to shun on purpose any impression of unity, wherever one stands in San Lorenzo 1 looks at fragmentary spaces connecting with the altar in an untraditional manner. It seems almost impossible to detect its spatial unit and the multiplicity of places interpenetrating and conflicting extraordinarily complicated as opposed to anything I have seen in the past. I asked Amadeus whether he really believed the Shroud was real. As we made our way around the altar, a sort of ambulatory per se

that hugged the curvature of an oval as if were cradle, I asked Amadeus whether he believed the Shroud to be real. He smiled and said he did not know but that extensive scientific research all point to its authenticity. It did not really matter he thought, sometimes he thought we looked too far for signs and proves of God and we do not notice what goes on right underneath our nose.

“… We don’t’ stop think, we rely on signs, create myths, divine figures and do not realize the prosaic and relativity of men. Fantasy is queen sometimes I forgive because she’s akin and a sister to hope…”

“Stop” I said ‘Amadeus you are as complicated as Guarino Guarani here.

He was still smiling and perhaps inspired he proceeded:

“I’m not a sage and neither do I want to give you advice but don’t expect miracles don’t expect from me what I cannot give you. I know it is very sad but it is the reality of this

Human … but I love you, and I am your corner of green peace amore, with me you do not have to struggle and fight, you can relax and space out and are carried away wherever the phantasm fancies taking you. Natalie, I want to assure you that as I have become essential to you, you are necessary to me. I need you, I want to have around me an authentic person, a complete woman that looks at me with profundity and knows me in depth , a person that can talk listen and understand and can live beside me bravely baring hardship and patiently and together intelligently built a quoin of heaven in a world gone up in flames.”

“It does not need to be complicated and faith is an individual thing, I would like to get to know you better sometimes its hard to reach you and I would like to be able to

understand you better” I answered

“Know me better how; you know what there is to know about me. You know that I love you. I love you very much, Natalie I love you in a way I never thought possible …

And the rest, well I ‘m not a model of a person that you should imitate, I do not want to be a model for you to copy. I do not possess the prerequisites to be one. No, I wish to be loved intelligently with my numerous faults and small merits. I am someone you can run to always for instance. You don’t want to confide in me but I sense that you have something on your mind that is bothering you and that is causing you a lot of pain but I can’t help you as I would like to if you don’t let me know what is bothering you….”

While walking around Amadeus was bothered by the increasing noises and crowd of people obviously following a parade and had wished we would leave immediately. I had suddenly grown gay and lighter unexpectedly assailed with memories of my childhood I had spent in Italy, of long procession and parades and joyful festivities and visions of

happy times gone by and more and more I felt like making my way into the crowd with the rest and salute Gianduia and Giocometta. The traditional torinese’s masques parading Turin in the season of Carnivale were colorful and uplifting. Amadeus was evidently annoyed at my suggestion we stay and watch and cheer with the crowd, I thought parades and festivities provided opportunities for people to meet and stay together and were good for national spirit but I think Amadeus thought all that stuff was below him , that sort of stuff was meant to keep people down and ignorant instead.:

“It’s not parade that holds people together,” he answered fastidiously. These were the times when I felt intimated and afraid to say things, whenever he raised certain objections, and especially when he seemed to be immersed so passionately in his work: the rest of the time I was still in a state of bliss being with him and though we quarreled a lot the melancholia never lasted too long,. Indeede I felt it was neither the place nor the time to argue. Sometimes I felt my emotions in a crescendo and at other times especially when I found myself alone, by myself I sensed something as if something missing and something was going lost and I became extremely sad. Dazed and confused I felt something out of place something coming undone that I could not explain but that caused me to feel cautious and attach value and importance to everything, to savor every single moment together make note of everything and anything as to not forget anything. Nothing he placed before my eyes, music, opulent architectures objects that I did not make note as if were a secret language of secret codes and hidden meanings and writings behind a walls. T o relieve myself from the let down and unhappiness that was I also spend a lot of time time reading waiting for him to be finished with his work and make time for me.

Chapter 13

In my thought, whenever I feel like escaping to somewhere pleasant and breathe that air in which we lived only for a short while I often follow Amadeus in his study.

Sitting behind a humongous desk behind volumes of books all intended in whatever he was doing as soon as he would see me peeking behind the door, he would call out smiling:

“Come in Nathalie”. He always seemed both surprised and pleased whenever I came here and showed interest in his work, he would straighten in his chair in a more placed position signaling that he was happy to take some time out. I would follow him with my eyes the position and open view to his artilleries and quite involuntarily my eyes voluptuously would fall to the sensual region of his body. He would notice and smile. however, he would never meet my eyes and at times make me feel uneasy. When he would finally look at me with his tender eyes that told me finally a vague authentic pleasure and sincere welcomed willingness to be having been distracted I would look at and think there was nothing more exquisite then Amadeus:

“You’re busy. I taking you away from your work” I would ask thinking maybe I should have let him carry on without disturbing him.

“No, I’m glad you are here, we can talk some”.

I was ready for everything, to embark on anything and everything or any adventure he could propose so sufficient and good was what I was feeling. I would often notice

Amadeus was often melancholic and always deeply concerned usually observing me attentively as if preoccupied worried and thus decreasing my self-confidence.

“Nathalie” he’s say

“Yes”

“You would tell me” he’d continue “you wouldn’t be afraid to tell me things because you know that I would comprehend be able to understand anything you have to tell me “

He would continue to encourage but in a manner and penetration of his voice that instead caused me intensely to stay silent. I would have done anything not to injure myself in his eyes at the same time I saw in Amadeus face and words that neither he lost time to instigate nor pass on judgments and though he seemed to tell me that he read more beneath my temperament I didn’t tell anything. Again, I nodded and signed that I would tell him things had I anything to say to him. I realized I had told him another lie as he had made me come around to another promise though I think I was thankful for the openness and freedom of communication he suggested we share., thought I had made up my mind that I was never going to tell him what was bothering me.

I found something in his desk that delighted me, that broke the monotony of waiting around and time into a wonderful smile. The pleasure of finding in his drawers the letters I had written him flipped me out and seeing how they had been so well kept neatly stalked in order of date and tied in a ribbon impressed me even more:

“Yes” Amadeus said glimpsing at them in satiety

“They are you’re letters; so beautiful and rich of sentiments. Everyday I read them, feeling I could touch you, though you didn’t know it.”

I went to sit behind his desk, undoing the ribbons and glimpsing through the letters. It

was a strange pleasure, as the one derives from gathering details of landscape, feeling that can generate from feeling akin to them. I became so amused reading my own tales that I got lost in them Enjoying remembering scenes and tales like parenthetic memories I became quite unaware of Amadeus growing displeasure at chewing my own tail sort to speak.:

“This is just not done,” he ordered,” It’s not very becoming for one to read their own letter, put them down.”

It would have been a good thing actually, if Amadeus had not mentioned the nuisance. My body half rose from the chair and my face now fastened to his and his big eyes astonished in rapid rebellions shouted “

“That is the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever hear. I wrote them. Why shouldn’t I be able to read them?”

“I did not say you couldn’t read them, I said it’s bad taste to read one’s own letters.

Moreover, while he was trying to explain this he was going through great difficulties to take them from my hand. It was tasteless impolite to read my own letters in his presence...

I let go of the grip and letters when I got tired of arguing, but I admit the air had been invaded. Amadeus less anxious though he knew he had upset me seemed rather satisfied of the outcome of that entire incident. What he thought I thought had nothing to do with what I thought of things. I told him with a sincere conscience what a ridiculous bogienen

civilized instructor he was. It was extraordinary how little he valued my opinion,

moreover, how he fancied me getting all hot and bothered how he found my remarks. despondently humorous. A strong warm sensation spread through my being and body when Amadeus in a sweet and stronger hold was kissing my shoulders long and hard and passionately seeking my lips had me put away the squabbles.

Chapter 14

The next morning we drove away for Genoa in his new used Mercedes. Someone had stolen his new one he had just bought, to

“add to his extraordinary misfortunes that befell upon him at times”

his car insurance had just expired, and

“moral of the fable, I have to dish out another 5,000,000, of lire of my own and still have to for the car.”

He thought it practically impossible to find the thief and drove off to Genoa with many worries about this used car they had replaced in lieu.

It was a clear day when we left Turin but soon after we noticed dark towering clouds kept setting in the sky and the day soon turn grey. The light rain had gushed into august gale and whirlwinds of brutal tornados. It all came so unexpectedly and thought we had slowed down a great deal, the rain kept coming down in hail and gusts of winds in such rage and perseverance that the roads and view had become invisible and were forced to stop on the side of the road. While we waited, from our window we watched trees and objects fly in extraordinary fury, the rain insatiable and furious that I become tremendously frightened. I thought the world was ending, I did not take my eyes off Amadeus clasping and squeezing his leg and pulling on his sleeve with the other. The flushing torrents assailed my mind with such activity that I thought Amadeus, I would die together, and that suddenly every thing was ending and while really made him promise everything under the sun to me. Amadeus cheerful and caring, holding in strong arms soothed me and comforted me until I fell asleep. When I awoke, we were driving through the last long chain of mountains and the rain much to my relief had stopped and fine droplets now falling in the Riviera and Sea of Genoa with boats and ships floating upon it. . Everything around me looked brighter gayer and tranquil. Genoa especially around the port is jazzy kaleidoscopic with splashy picturesque houses reflected in the water. I was still feeling sedated from my sleep when we walked into our hotel. I was once again taken off guard when Amadeus asked as matter of fact if I did not prefer separate rooms. Thought still somnambulant I decided that Amadeus was being silly and way to much of a prude. There was no reason why we should not be together and sleep in the same room, after all the goal was to want to spend time together and I had come from thousands of miles just to be with him.. Not really understanding his

point of view and fastidious they seemed I turned to him and a clear voice resolutely stated:

“I’m staying with you. I came here to be with you.”

The hotel suite chilly and spacious , one room opened into another double door back couches and porch overlooking the ocean. I began to rummage immediately through the luggage while Amadeus already sitting in a big black chair opened his brief case and reading through his papers. I thought he looked slightly annoyed , melancholic and resigned , as if my fussing and presence were preventing him from concentrating and paying enough attention to what he was doing. I was convinced that Amadeus was pleased to have me with him , and that he did not keep things from me but I also was convinced that he had wanted to say some things but had decided against it.. I had thought about this moment in my mind many times, in Turin and the inaugurated novelty of a trip to Genoa had be think of other, now here I was with him, alone at last and Amadeus was asking whether I preferred to be sleeping alone. Indeed, I had thought that had he wanted to make love to me on the first day , I would not have offered any resistance, after spending a few days with him in his hometown, I stopped to ask why Amadeus never appeared to put forth the urge to express any erotic emotion . He that lavished and lusted so in writing, and in truth so rich they very in their sensuality that they stimulated my imagination beyond limit . While I fought in vain to subdue the feeling for certain closer affinity, public affection, demonstrations fearing that I might appear less proper and virtuous I checked myself more and more, playing my part and offering myself to the task that was acceptable to Amadeus . On the other hand I also thought that things were just fine that Amadeus did not want us to rush into anything

that he was just trying to make me feel comfortable, and in any case thinking that while making love was fine neither was I completely free from worries and struggling to put Pierre and the past behind. Love’s passion is a constant struggle. I wanted Amadeus thought I could discern for myself that perhaps Amadeus had been right, that it was

better to wait, reserve rather then indulge, and choose rather a life of impassionate serenity and responsability , a life of well being and comfort..

Yet I found it idiotic Amadeus’s work schedules, volume and how it completely immersed he was in his work. I repeated them over again for myself, under the shower, formulas of virtue and patience and those things would happen in their own time and fall into place, as they should.

Amadeus continued to work for the rest of the evening and seemed to be completely unaware of my presence when at work, and his silence was like huge emptiness in space, a brutal isolation that made me feel very lonely.

The city smelled fresh after the rain , I walked behind him while he with his hands in his pockets walked slightly ahead of me. He was not of the habit of walking for leisure and to keep up with him I joined my arm in his. I wore an evening dress, slimming with pearls, because Amadeus always dressed for dinner. I let my eyes wonder as far as the limits and decided that Amadeus was nowhere within limits, in the air perhaps , on clouds, along the avenues in the earth and in between but not with so and me I began to search for him everywhere anywhere except from where he was.

“ I want to say something to you, but maybe I’m getting old , I’m scared to do it, terrified that you will not take me to my word and take me seriously and I won’t act on it.”.

I am not sure whether pain is sweeter when we are in love I know that in any case I ‘ve always suffered unwillingly. The fact that Amadeus and I had wanted very much to get

closer and communicate and the finally discovering that it was virtually impossible was the oddest of the problems I ever had to face. I had become afraid to say things that might farther the unbridgeable gulf between us and he was admitting that he was scared to tell me things.

“Why wouldn’t you tell me what you are thinking?”

“Maybe I will one day. Right now I sensing something in you that is making you feel unhappy and I wish you would confide in me.”

It was Amadeus way to want to help others first with their problems , sometimes I felt Amadeus was an old man inside, as if he had lived centuries before me, and that long huge silences separated him from the world and me.

Back at the hotel, we had our first fight. We poured out what was almost insane language. He was a brain picker , deliberately wanting to drag things out of me obsessively insistent that I should tell him everything that I could not tell him over the phone and come to Italy to tell him. I told him that perhaps it was not important anymore that I had seen my way through the problems and that I preferred not to talk about it after all but Amadeus would not let me put things to rest and while instigating and putting words in my mouth assuming he understood me perfectly even before I spoke. When he finally realized I was not going to tell him anything and tired of snatching out with due detachment and air of melancholia began to dismiss me:

“I will be busy all day tomorrow with conferences. You can spend the day shopping if you like”: and in saying so threw a lot of money of the table. The gesture completely caught me off guard and felt very much angered..

‘Who the hell does he think he is?” I thought or better still “What the hell does he think I am? . I do not need his bloody money. That is not what I am after.”

I felt hurt humiliated and realized that Amadeus did not have a clue of what I was about and was just himself testing his ground..

“My reason of being here is not to go shopping. I came to spend some time with you but obviously you cannot make any time for me.”

“I told you over the phone that it was a bad time for me, you insisted to come because you said you had something important to tell me, you’re here and now you don’t feel it’s important enough to talk about. I cannot ignore my work , my work is important to me I need to carry on with my work.”

“What about us? Don’t we need to talk about us? I thought we were important. I thought we had something the two of us.”

“We do at least I think we do.”

“Oh no you don’ t. You do not think you owe me anything and that you can just make me happy by offering me money to go shopping as if I were a whore or something. I’m financially independent I don’t need to be kept, I need a partner a companion a friend

Someone that is just as happy to be with me as I am to be with him.”

“What is wrong with you. What do you want from me? Why did you come here now?”

“What?’

“Yes. Why did you come here now, when I told you I did not have a house for us, that we should have waited before we made more definite plans, but no, you said you had to come now there was something very important you needed to discuss with me that could not wait… You say you want to share your life with me,. You want to spend your life with me but you cannot even tell me what it was you came here to talk about with me! You will not tell me what the problem is about, when you yourself told me that you had a problem that you could not solve by yourself. Then you tell me that it is not right that I should like to feel financially at ease. You tell me Natalie, you tell what is right to do “

“I want you to stay with me, I don’t want you to leave me alone all day.”

“But we have discussed this before you came here. I had already told you I could not take any time off and could not be with you, and you said it would be ok, right?

“But you didn’t tell we would have to be away and I would have to be sitting in a hotel all by myself.”

“You don’t have to be sitting here and waiting for me, you can go out , go shopping and have some fun”

“I don’t want to go shopping and I don’t want your money.”

“Really Natalie, you are being childish and unreasonable. I have to go to work and this cannot be helped, it in the meantime try to make the best of the situation, take a tour around town, go visit an museum and cheer up for tonight, we’ll try to make up for lost. time.”

“No, I don’t want you to leave me here all by myself.”

“Natalie ‘ chi e’ in difetto e’ in sospetto’ and you are giving me a lot of reason to doubt you . In any case if we are to discuss any future together discussing the financial aspect of the situation is also something important to talk about. Because if there are going to be financial problems, quarrels are also bound to follow. Our goal is arrive at a happy life to share together. Perhaps we will not be able to afford and spend money excessively…:”

“How dare you say that? How can you say that to that and me you have plenty of reasons to doubt me?

”Why did you say you had something to tell me that couldn’t wait? You answer me first! .. You don’t care! You don’t care about making a real commitment for a life together, otherwise you would be honest with me and share everything with me. You are in bad faith and keeping things from me. You are not being honest with me and your attitude is that of a person who wants to begin a new future with me..”

I was dishonest he repeated and I tried to stay strong but I was dying inside and felt like a worm, I was too scared to loose him however feeling that he would be too hurt to understand and wouldn’t give us a change and decided to keep quiet about it..

I loved Amadeus , the monster of perfection he was , and how he could never do anything wrong in my eyes but I also knew that Amadeus was incapable of forgiving and thought I wanted to share everything with him I knew I would be risking everything . I wanted to give Amadeus everything he wanted, and have him feel I was his completely but the courage failed me and decided that perhaps some things are best gone unsaid and feeling that he really wasn’t being fair that I did care, I cared for him more then life itself:

“What do you mean I don’t care?” I was shouting now in tears ,

“I do care for you. I do care for you a lot. It was I after all who decided to come and see you. I decided we should not be apart anymore. It was I who dropped everything back home to come and see you, I lied at work for you, to my parents, to friends all this I did so that I could come and be with you. Don’t you go on and accuse me of all the wrongdoing when I did my best to come here and be with you. I did not do this for anybody or any ordinary jerk. I came here because I could not bare us living apart anymore.”

Moreover, I let my tears flow without check , I let Amadeus have it , and I would not have him stop me. I was on the run and he couldn’t stop me, he had accused me of being in bad faith, of being dishonest, childish irresponsible. While I still sat at the edge of bed arguing flashed and aggregated he told me to grow up and act as a real woman!

“What do you want of me Amadeus? You, your family? What do you want a work of art?”

“What are you talking about?’ I want you to be yourself . I want you to be honest with yourself and withme..”

“No Amadeus you and your family do not want me to be myself. You want a work of art instead. A living statue!”

“What the hell are you saying and what does my family have to do with us.”

“They have everything to do with us. They don’t like me. They don’t think very highly of me. And you want to change me. You say you like me just the way I am but you want to change me and mould me in what you want me to become. You want to change me in what you want me to be.”.

“I’m going to pretend you didn’t say anything that I have just heard and that you are just to upset to think things through.. I want you to be yourself, without false pretenses and hypocrisy but first and foremost I want you to be honest with yourself , know what you want and be completely honest with me.”

“I am being myself Amadeus but you don’t like it. Don’t you see it?”

“No, that is not the point. Indeed I do like you or all this would be pointless. However, we have still to discuss things, which I obviously feel need to come out in the open and you, refuse to want to talk about.. I’m not trying to change you really, but seriously you cannot expect me to forget that you told me you had something that you wanted to talk to me about. The truth is Nathalie and I never thought I would ever say this to you, I don’t trust you.. I cannot feel I can trust you and that saddens me. Nathalie there cannot be a meaningful relationship or good beginning if you are scared to confide in me and trust that together we can solve whatever it is that is bothering you.”

And after so many quarrels as if I were the cause of huge torment he could no longer deal with said something in a hurry and went out, leaving me all by myself in this huge hotel suite.

Chapter 15

In a memory, a sorrow that weighs on us in most cases will leave us and we forget about it, sometimes it can also return. Sometimes it remains with us like a dark cloud for a longtime. Something of what happened that night reminded me of fleeting things that are

rare, like days that you are not anxious for, that we also think are behind us.

Some day this would seem right this would seem composed, instead at the time

it seemed to be such a contradiction of terms, and be obliged to think of Amadeus as part of my body. I said nothing, I had not consented and tacitly I had consented. His wonderful eyes fixed seemed to watch me scrutiny as I opened my eyes and confused stretched out my arms to love him back. Taken by surprise I lay beneath him to see him, as I had never done before. In doubt and hope I feared and grieved that this was not a mistake that it would all pass, that he was not loving me in vain that I too knew well what I wanted.

“Amore” he said, as if to reprieve me

” do not let it happen again, Let us not quarrel. Do not let it happen again” and as if I were causing him greater injury, unprepared held out his arms:

“I love you Natalie, maybe I have not been able to tell you and demonstrate to you sufficiently (damn me) but you cannot know how much I appreciate all the problems you have had to overcome , your renounces, your lies, the discomforts and risks that you took just to come and see this wretched and irritating Italian. Rest assured that I would never forget it. You are Natalie. No one else can be Natalie. No one. Maybe I haven’t told you enough, repeated sufficiently that I love you. Forgive me but I love you. I love you.”

I clang to him, cleared my voice and tried to keep a positive attitude. He loves me I repeated to myself and though he looked heavenly, he had something about him, this complacent look in his eyes that seem to be saying to me:

“Only me and you, only you and I are supposed to know this. You’ll keep our little secret wouldn’t you?”

We do not forget that what we cannot change and we introduce into the feeling of revival. Our first night together was not a success and I had not known him to be capable of all that but I decided I was going to pay attention to other things and embrace the correctable behavior and deeds.

The small streets paved in hard stones in Genoa like many European cities are impossible to walk especially if you are wearing high heels. I walk around some then when I could no longer bear it any more I decided to go shopping for something more comfortable. No sooner, I got into my new pair of shoes that my humor changed radically and became much more enthusiastic to be promenading in Genoa. When he found me, I immediately began to model my new shoes that he looked at in true good taste. It became apparent however that it was impossible to enjoy these small pleasures with him and the way I intended. He did not enjoy walking or sightseeing either, much less on foot. Because of his work he was forced to do a lot of traveling and preferred the comfort of his car and to in his hotel room while I being a traveler and adventurous in spirit always loved the challenge of surviving on the road and loosing myself in strange and unknown places. H e would have been scandalized if ever I decided to tell him about my past and crazy stuff my friends and I did. Therefore, I mean I was accommodating and when he said it was getting late and we should be on our way while I still might have liked to go on I followed cautiously taking care I wouldn’t be chipping at his block.

I got the hang of things , the following morning again we woke up early and found ourselves in the city of palms, Finale Ligure with the sun shining brightly on the sandy Riviera While he made his rounds of the hospital I sat in café by the monument in Piazza Vittorio Emanuele. As a fact I’m a junk collector and love buying souvenirs, t-shirts, all that whistling stuff . In Ventimiglia, Bordighera, San Remo Amadeus would look on strangely, as I kept picking up weird things. I picked up a lot of junk I agreed with him but also because I was never quite sure whether I really liked things or not , because I was never quite sure whether I liked them enough . He seemed to be amused and even began to imitate me. He was a very good guide and wishing to please showed me to many wonderful places on the Riviera an ambience famous and rich in history and art but also always dressed in ever greens and intense cultivations of notorious plants, flowers and roses. I liked it all I told him and especially the tranquility and harmony of the Riviera dei Fiori characterized by its evergreens and flowers and revealing sights and quoins of unexpected spirituality a famous legend in Bordighera for instance tells the story of Sant’Ampelio. how he came from Africa and the first to bring palm seeds in the city or how the Egyptian obelisk was saved from destruction and the hero as recompense asked a most peculiar and bizarre thing. When asked what he wanted for having saved the obelisk he said if he could be given the privilege to supply the Church of Rome for Easter the palms of Bridger he would be the happiest of men. , and so still to this present time every Easter the city supplies The Vatican with palm trees from Bordighera. Two days later we were in Imperia and the weather was absolutely gorgeous for this time of year. Looking at Imperia from the harbour, the city gives one the impression of a gradual ascension distributing itself colorfully on the hills. Amadeus spent his day at work I was alone for most of the day, and I was learning not to need him and to depend on myself in moving around and tried to keep my sadness at a distance:

“I’m good. I am ok. In addition, I should not be so cynical. We have just started this relationship. And I should learn to depend on myself if I want to come and live here.”

I told myself I wouldn’t allow myself to miss home, the comforts and familiarity of home, but I pitied myself and my quest for love that seemed to run parallel to Amadeus, to Pierre. I pitied Pierre and I and continued to walk around. I walked up the hill then back to the Palazzo Provinciale that dominates the Piazza in its soft rose and pale colors, then I went to visit the harbor when the sun moving through the sky , intercepting here and there through trees , playing and swaying in long shafts of water began to make me feel dizzy. I went to sit t in the shade and watched seagulls guzzling in the water. I suppose I was confident in reposeful and tranquil Imperia discovering that all one needs to know to appreciate and enjoy living is to be aware and take notice even the prosaic and common aspects of life. We ate well for instance Amadeus and me. Everything was delicious on the Riviera and I was indulgent in my appetite in Italy. Amadeus as always preferred driving out to the countryside for a good gourmet meal and that evening he suggested I try riso and frittura di rane, a specialty of Vercelli, and I will say I ate enthusiastically. He would watch me enjoy my food and comment on how pleased he was on how well I found my way around:

“You don’t seem to have any problems with directions at all”

“I’m self-sufficient. I can look after myself” I told him, more as to console myself for how hard for me this really was.

“Self-sufficient, what a huge word Nathalie!”

Exhausted by the austerity I looked away.

Chapter 17

I was indulgent in my appetite in Italy, in Vercelli Amadeus suggested, I try the riso and frittura di rana specialty of the region and I devoured it. By the sea and more at leisure, he was especially attentive and open for conversation:

“I’ve been discussing a construction project with my father and I want to hear you’re thought on this” he began saying.

“What kind of project? I asked timidly, feeling somewhat conscious as if I were intruding in some private territory.

“Well, I have been thinking about the two of us and I don’t have a house where the two of us could go and live in, I don’t have a house yet and I thought I might in cooperation built a villa. You know a building in partnership with my father. What do you think?”

“I don’t know,” I said simply because I knew and understood nothing about building houses or other.

“Well what do think about the idea, wouldn’t you want us to have a home of our own.

Instead of renting? “He continued

“I guess so” but couldn’t really feel more enthusiastic”

“Cucciolo mio, look at me what is wrong?” He insisted doubling up his grip of my hand.

“Nothing, nothing is wrong” and it was not as if I was not bored.

“Well then why are you not as excited as I hoped you would be, why don’t say something, wouldn’t you want to get involved in the project and have a say on how things will get done?” He was asking as if could not stand to see his real dream die.

“Nothing “I repeated, “I haven’t given a thought to any of this stuff you’re mentioning”

Nothing, I do not know. I have not thought about that stuff at all:” and felt terribly embarrassed and uncaring.

“Maybe you would like our own private home “he said quickly and without waiting for my reply he continued with eagerness “don’t think I wouldn’t’t like that either but I don’t think we’re going to be able to afford a home of our own. You have no ideas how expensive it is to buy a home around here; the prices of homes have risen to the sky,

They make it quite hard to purchase a home alone.”

“I understand it’s the same sort of situation in Canada as well. And one salary per household is not enough to pay for a mortgage as well.”

“Yes, yes, it’s quite impossible to live on one salary and also pay for a mortgage that is it,

That is why I think should buy our house in cooperative you understand with my father.

So what do you say do you like the idea?” he went on

“Yeah” I replied but felt it was a bad time to discuss it just yet while he still riding high

“In any case I promise you….” had meant to tell me more.

“No, Amadeus, no” I was no longer at my best

“Don’t Amadeus, you don’t have to promise me things. I really do not care where we are going to go and live later on. It’s not that important that we should have our own house right away.” I told him taking his hands in mine.

“It’s not…” he smiled but obviously did not want to travel blind

“Well, then you tell me what is important then what is that we should be thinking about and I mean he seemed to be getting more and more impatient.

“Well I guess I need to know that you really want to be with me, that we really want us to be together, the two of us that we will be happy together.” I said trembling.

“And are you happy? Nathalie are you happy to be here with me. “He peered at me for a minute.

“What it is amore? Tell me is there something wrong? Are you not ready for this?”

“I don’t know. I don’t know. What would I be doing here if I came to live here?”

What could I do here” I said uncertain for simply not being able to see through things.

“Is it your career you are thinking about?” and thought he had guessed my chagrin

“I don’t know, maybe,” I kept saying and though he had never moved he seemed to have come a lot closer

“I know these are important decision to take and perhaps it all has come to sudden but we must talk about and decide on what we are going to do. Is it you have to leave work that is worrying you?” He was asking looking patiently for answers

“I don’t know. I mean I don’t feel I need necessarily to plan for everything immediately, that I might want to see things happen eventually and act upon them when I am there you know when we get to the bridge” I shoved in his face

“And you don’t think you should get ready to cross the bridge or think about the consequences? For instance how important is your work for you? Would you be able?

To leave behind you and feel all right with that?”

“I’m not sure” I had to admit. Work paid for my keeps, gave me financial independence and feeling of security

“I don’t know,” I repeated not being able to say anything or think.

‘Then it is important you’re career I mean your work that is what you are worried about… I… would like to relate a truth about me and my experience and it might

Help you make a decision. Not long ago, I myself worked for CIBA an important pharmaceutical company was the head of an important department. As their manager I should have been partially just but tough, hypocrite pretentious professional and show respect and admiration for my superior and always agree with him, take everything and swallow everything that came out of his lips serve him and be tough and mean to my subordinates and colleagues . I found it all so distressing. When I use to observe my colleagues carry on like puppies and do all those humiliating things a sort of physical repulsion crept up and felt such piety while I understood very well why they thought they needed to do what they did in order to survive and that they too were defending themselves from their own weakness. One good day however I finally mastered enough nerve to put a stop to all that and during a very important meeting I got up on my feet and told them all executives and all that they all made me laugh with their attitude and higher then mightier attitude. I told them I would not be playing along with them anymore and that I no longer felt like following their rules. I thought I had insulted them to death what had happened instead is that most of my ex coworkers have written me a card of phoned me for the Christmas festivities. That means I left something positive behind me. My decisions I have discovered has been a happy and courageous choice, now I no longer have to demonstrate to anyone that I am better then him or her. I have more time for myself to do the things I want to do and especially more time for us. I do what I unconsciously desired all along, it is a very specialized work instead technical and interesting moreover productive for us humans and I do not have to punish or scold anyone anymore. I hope it is not important for you to have a man of grand career, I have been that man and I have not liked it much. Infact I never want it again. It is distressing as it is useless. By telling you all things I do not hold myself to be either a contester, or a hero, neither an imbecile, I simply made a choice, my choice. In the light of things and evidence of facts I would not say I have changed for the worst, I think on the contrary

I am better for it, but so many people greedy for power and love to feel superior and to see they order everyone else and step on others to their liking they do not understand and find the choice I made illogical and absurd. What do you think? I simply want to enjoy the nice things that life has to offer with the minimal distractions and I do not want to become worst then I am already.” He concluded his telling extremely serious and there he seemed to have meant to create some grave prelude to something that really needed sorting out. I looked at him and thought for the first time he looked like his father, same strong cheekbones and masculine make up, Self-contained and strong I thought. Whenever I watched his father, he seemed always extremely serious and in him there seemed to reign always preludes of something grave, appeared to the world as a person of vast designs and serious purposes.

“You’re bad, oh you’re really bad.” As I thought, he was looking around him as if there were an audience watching him.

“No” I offered, “I couldn’t tell you whether you made a good choice or not. It is as if you said you made a choice. Nobody can tell what choices to make. Again, I do not relate this situation. I do not know if things are like that everywhere but I suppose when working conditions are not optimal then you must have the courage to look for something else. I respect the decision you have made for yourself. And neither it is important that I should have a man of grand career and as it is I’m already feeling I am competing with your work “

“No, you don’t say.” Knowing well of the phenomena that had always disturbed his sleep.

“Amadeus I don’t have any idea as to what I really want to do in life as far as a long term career, right now I’m fairly content with my work as it does allow me to be financially independent and for the moment that is what is needed.” I told him with some distress.

“I wouldn’t worry about a career amore. I would not worry about it. It is nothing lost.

I hold indeed that a career has been invented on purpose to blind us and remove all other objectives in life. It is like the classical carrot in front of a donkey and it removes other wants from sights and has you step on all other values making you slave to yourself and other people besides. I may be wrong but I have lived this experience first hand.”

“Perhaps you meant the classical carrot in front of a rabbit,” I suggested.

“Just checking” he smiled

“I wish you wouldn’t,” I told him more concerned

“I’m not worried besides I can always get a job as a waitress once in Italy.”

“Tesoro mio” Amadeus did not know what else to do

“For certain you wouldn’t be coming here to be a waitress, rather I would avoid eating to feed you, and keep this in mind for certain I would never accept a thing of the sort, you would have to walk over my dead body instead. Do not worry about it there will be a solution for everything we will able to find an adequate solution. Was it not you who said once each one of us deserves the best? Your best is not being a waitress amor mio.

Get it out of your head . You deserve much better and not because mind you waitresses deserve less, but these are neither the terms nor conditions I want you. I do not want you to settle for less by coming here to live with me. So that you have your ideas clear, I want you here to come, stay, and live with me as my partner and equal. Together we will

spent infinite and fantastic moments like this when I will always hug and kiss you

and hold you close as I am today.”

So we had began our first tentative in trying to hold a difficult conversation in a delicate relationship. What I knew is that we were in a rich miscellaneous mess and that only time would tell us whether Cupid mistakenly had trapped us or made a tremendous contribution to expansion that is more romantic.

We walked around the city, went on for some length about the beauties of Vercelli, and inquire about suggestive evidences and prints.

“San Eusebio? What kind of name is that? I ask who would if in their right mind name a child Eusebio. Imagine Amadeus calling a child Eusebio. That would be just so cruel!

I muttered

“Ah hold on now. No heresy allowed. Do you know anything about this Saint Eusebio?

There is an original tale attached to the pious sufferer.”

“Well give it then … “and pinching his bottom

“Saint Eusebio came to Vercelli from Sardinia in the 4th Century to try to put a stop to the Arian heresy that the Emperor of India had been spreading in the West “

“What was that about, the Arian belief?” I thought it wasn’t like any other religion I had heard about.

“The Arian religion. Their religion developed…. Actually it wasn’t even a religion, it grew out a human development and human experience, more rather a non revealed religion, a endless search for depth of the self, a continuous meditations for followers anxious not to lose anything of life’s journey and the richness of experience. It was an endless quest for truth so they called it the religion of truth and came to be known as the Truth of God.?”

“They believed in God then how was it heresy?” I asked gruffly and had no idea why Arian was not good enough for them.

“Well it was never established whether they believed in any particular God though their concentration of spiritual and inner life was impressive and their belief of all earthly realities of life, love , joy suffering bear similarities to our Christian faith.”

“So what did Saint Eusebio do about it? “ I asked in the confusion of my lack of knowledge.

“Saint Eusebio came to Vercelli and was tried and inflicted with trials and humiliations and finally trapped and placed in a cage and shipped off to Palestine. While trying to reestablish the Christian faith he died a martyr and was then canonized a Saint.”

I resisted the impulse to ask more, for then, darn it I did not want to know more.

In Arona the weather was cold and fine and the wind swept across the lake. Amadeus was busy with paper work and making plans. I still was not saying much and hesitating .

I loved him, I was certain I would never be able to love anybody like this again and wished I could go on with the plans but it felt so rushed.

Amadeus did not see it my way and thought I was afraid of taking on responsibilities and not keeping my word . Because I was not willing to make a definite commitment and try to start a life together He felt I should have felt as anxious and excited to find us a place and move in together immediately. Thus the quarrels, over our intentions, our enthusiasm our doubts for a future together.

I let him know that I wanted all those things but wanted to be convinced of us tried to explain how I was not being indifferent or uninterested but that trusted his decision and judgments that I was learning to lean on him

“What’s he wondering about now?” I though while I was trying to read and saw him watching me.

“Nathalie do you want to stay here with me? Do you feel happy here with me?”

“Yes, yes, yes. but…” I broke

“I know you have to go home, right?” he asked like there was nothing he could do anymore.

“Yeah I have to go.” And it was dawn outside when we finally got some rest.

I woke up and saw the first snowfall in Italy. So much snow had fallen and we had to

change the plans we had made. It was a city not been prepared for such weather and as a result, everything came to a stand still. Amadeus thought we should wonder around and drive around the island in spite of the snow Flakes of snow prettied the air and whitened the ground of the small island on the lake San Carlo’s colossal statue consequently looked more like the Bonhomme. The prints read that the head alone of the statue is about six meters in circumference. As a Torontonian, I chuckled and began to feel at ease with extravagances of the sort. Again, Amadeus laughed when I began writing everything down and take pictures for my art friends in Toronto to see. San Carlo we read at the foot of the humongous bronze statue was of noble birth. It is told that when he was born, there appeared in the sky, in the Castle of Borromeo a beautiful rainbow; and as the citizens on Arona realized that a baby had been born they marveled and wondered what could this child become since he carried so much light with him.

“Ok I know you enough now to know where I want to built our home,” he said bright and ambitiously.

“Oh, but can we afford it!” I asked standing there unenthused as ever.

Chapter 18

My macho I learned had an indisputable gift, without much effort on his part, he could raise hell. He was extremely opinionated and critical and seemed to need to have to comment on everything. You never really knew if he were ever pleased with things, as he appeared to pay more attention to people’s shortcomings and faults. He would hardly let things go unnoticed and if things were not done, right as he wished them to be he could explode in a most bombastic matter. He lost his temper easily and it became upsetting because I did not know how to handle it at all. On one particular day, for instance his sister and I Patricia took me out shopping. Patricia was very much Italian in the sense that she was very fashion conscious and loved shopping . As a result we were out all day and ran late doing all the errands and chores she was supposed to have done . She seemed to know all the boutiques in town and all the clerks. She introduced me to so many people and all of them seemed interested in Canadian furs. I knew next to nothing about furs but they were arraigning trying to persuade me to make arrangement and wanting me to promise, I’d ship some back to them on my return home. When Amadeus learned what she had been up to, he lost his temper and really let her have it. I was shocked and confused when I saw him react so violently over such a silly thing and could not understand why he would pour out at Patricia such anger and listeningng troubled me on how furious he was with Patricia. I felt helpless watching Patricia burst to tears as he went and on about her and how she just was not measuring up. She was lazy according to him, slack, and neglected her studies. Had she gone and photographed the old school as she was supposed to for her architecture course? No. Had she done this ?or that? He would not quit bugging her. I felt out altogether out of place but decided to step in anyway because I thought he was being cruel and was no longer sure what he was trying to prove anymore:

“You shouldn’t be so rough on her I’m sure she will get around to photographing the school I’m sure she is responsible enough and knows what needs to be done.”

“You think so? Now if I believed that would I be worried?” he asked.

Stop it. Stop it! I really don’t think you should be doing this” I insisted

“Oh no, look Nathalie you don’t know her the way I do and I can’t explain to you why I need to keep after her so much. However, listen, let us forget about this for now. You do not understand and you are not the reason for us arguing here. The trouble here is really that Patricia and I never got along you just happen to be here to witness one more of our common. ruins. I want to apologize over what as happened. P lease let us forget all about and go out.”

We went to the movies afterwards; I chose a picture with Sylvester Stallone. Amadeus did not go to the movies much. He knew a lot about cinema from reading but watched very little TV or movies. I found he enjoyed very little of what I liked and whenever I asked what it was he enjoyed and liked he would simply answer it was me he liked that I took up all his time, that sort of thing. It was nonetheless important that he like me. It was very important that he should like me. Thought I wanted to find some point of mutual interest . Something we could both get passionate about and we could share. Amadeus presented me with much newness and gravely insisted how important it is to be aware of this or that ,was so very serious all the time that life itself seemed a difficult affair and I wished he would relax more.

At night after I thought that was all the bullshit I could take, he told me there was more. A serious business called him away for work and with his head turned away from me he announced he was leaving for Ville Neuve in Val DAosta on a business trip and he could not take me with him. Oh Man, I thought unfucken unbelievable! I’m not taking this. I pretended not to be upset but decided I really did not want to stay behind with his family and go stupid with boredom.

“I’ m going to Siena then, I’m going to go and visit my friends in Siena?’ I informed him

“What?” he said in surprise.

“No you can’t do that. You came here to stay with me. “He repeated alarmed.

“I did. But you are going away. You are not going to here. I ‘m not staying here either if you are not going to be here!” Suddenly I knew howI was trying his patience and could not get the words out properly to tell him that I really did want to go to Siena , I really needed to go to Siena to visit my friends and seek their advice.

“Nathalie” Amadeus now was leaning over and speaking directly in my face

“I am sorry. I did not mean to frighten you. I have been a bully I did not mean to frighten you. Please do not go to Siena. I do not think that is the thing to do right now. We can work this thing out together. But please do not go to Siena.”

He took a deep breath and blamed himself for not being able to keep me there, then as he desperately wanted me there and need me to understand, sat me down and began this strange speech that now through my lips and today aged cannot find the samed degree of isolated and superior deliverance . A long detailed account of a dream of his as a child how this particular dream has governed every decision he has made in his life and how it’s the focus of everything he does.” I relate it now with anxious solicitude for I have tried and am still incapable of understanding or extracting more than the experience of pain in his face the tired and fatigued expression which has never left my memory.. The phantom of his dream now nurses me like a gust of wind sweeping through my mind and brings a feeling of regret which assails me whenever I think about him. I think for instance how I should have behaved differently .Shown more concern. Paid attention to what seemed have been beating him down. But I had petty views. different ideas, was young and impatient and didn’t want to get tangled all sorts of disturbing dreams. Nor Was I open and receptive want to know more about his dream nor when we were in the middle of an argument.

“When I was a child. I dreamt I was a soldier at war. In my dream, I am captain and leading my men to the battlefield. While crossing and passing through a deserted town we came across a brothel. My soldiers, tired and exhausted from fighting finally gave in to temptation and desire and refuse to follow me further back to battle. I hated them for being weak and for abandoning their ideal to wanton and cheap women and leave them there I will go and fight alone. I am shot and wounded and close to dying when the Madame that runs the brothel finds me, takes me back with her and heals me back to health. As soon as I was back on my feet, again, I prepared to return to war and still my men refused to follow me. Once again I returned to the battlefield alone and the Madame though she had wanted to keep me there she let me and didn’t try to stop me.”

Oh, I shook my head .because I really did not know what to make out of him and his t crazy story. I was not following him at all I did not understand why he would bring up this story and I was sure he was testing my patience. I did not know any more if this crazy situation was not a joke but I realized I knew shit about him but at the same time, he did something to me. I must have looked puzzled I had so not wanted to think of him

being weird and an idiot yet I could not seriously pay any attention to his world of dreams of his beliefs so insane or some mysterious meaning. Dreams may at times be some kind of warning or even a reflection of our fears, wants, wishes but should they control our actions and course of our history.? This has to be some kind of a joke I kept telling myself could this person be so narrow minded and noxious.? I looked up at his face and in frustration stare in his eyes .

Can he be for real? Can a dream dictate every choice and decision? And he so shallow and completely unredeemable?

You know Amadeus I really want to help you out with your dream if I could just find out where you are. You see I too have always had this dream about whores and prostitutes s and how they too became warriors and went to war just as you did. In my dream they fought good and hard until one fine day they won. Eventually these good whores and her Madame became good lawmakers and politicians, even legalize prostitution, and thus put an end to all wars. Do you know you are really full of shit?”

Amadeus heard my comments with his eyes closed until he regained his balance and covered his eyes

“Now we are down to screaming and insulting one another. I can’t tell you anything.”

I ignored him. It did not matter what he said. I was not going to devote any more efforts and entangling truths in dreams and I neither being a complete idiot feeling hurt and offended I told him I thought I should leave. He turned away from my nearness and me and though knowing me he gasped:

“Please don’t leave me” and never moved.

Chapter 19

On the train to Siena, I traveled through the beloved region of Tuscany. The rich and verdant hills and beautiful plains are of the most appealing nature and beauty I ever seen.

Felicitous Siena with its rough shaped narrow winding streets, antiquated medieval atmosphere of red roofs and bell towers, the warm welcome of locals with its ease vision their language and accent, their charming and self-possessed and libertine way of thinking and speaking ; all lend to authentic pleasure and joy of living. Siena is the best-preserved historical medieval city and most cultivated. The Senese are people

with love of knowledge and good liberal living. Moreover, they are and will remain for me an illustrious example and I think a unique exception. So I was in Siena and so I began my day where my heart was with my closest friends and with a little music singing in the jukebox and sat till wee hours of the morning in Val del Montane near Porta Romana consuming good food and wine. In truth, in the winter, around this time, Siena is in lethargy, in apathy and listless is begging for visitors, without the excitement for the Palio and hurdle of tourists of the summers in lithium. The problem in Siena they would all agree lies in its tiresomeness, the boredom that is absolutely asphyxiating for the best of them. During the winter months there is absolutely nothing to do they repeated repeatedly. The greatest novelty of the year had been the installment of an arcade downtown, , flippers and electronic objects that keep them amused. However, as soon as they would be through applying this standard to all people and events they would also want to convince you that Siena was in fact the best place on earth to be and that Siena was the most beautiful city in the world.

“Nathalie” Panzanella’s friend called out to me

“I hear you go swimming in the outdoors at this time of year in Canada!”

“Sure it’s hot alright at this time of year in Canada” Zabob chuckled

“Minus 30 , why it’s hot enough!”

“Nathalie what do you do between the hours of 8 and 9? No it’s important to know because of the time difference” Panzarella was still playing curious.

“No Nathalie please forgive us, it’s no joke we are really bored out of our mind here.

Nevertheless, we must keep up the right attitude. If the spirit is down in even one of us, we are all in the situation and feeling depressed.

“Nathalie” it was now Zabob turn to have some fun

“Say wherever did you buy those postcards you send us? Which store?”

I laughed.

“Ah yes certainly I understand, that store there near the Rialto. Did you drive there or what?”

“Yeah Nathalie did you go there by car?” and they all exploded into a loud laugh.

then Panzanella proceeded to explain:

“I don’t know if you remember the Rialto Nathalie, but if you do you’ll remember

the street is so narrow that cars can’t pass you may imagine the amplitude of the place.”

“Rather, Natalie do send us some new records when you go back to Canada. Something a la mode, In vogue. In Canada, you should find something exclusive, no? In English clearly eh!” I nodded and by then feel fully the tiredness of the trip and the night I had just spent without sleep Dawn and we could hear the tingling of campaniles . The men disputing, arguing, and still unwinding the situations and events of the last Palio. One must be a Senese to fully appreciate the meaning and value the Palio holds for its locals but if you are not you still learn to love it. The Val Del Montone a contrada which had not won a Palio, 20 years. And because they had, finally, won, they were still going around cuckolding and humiliating the contrada of the giraffa their fiercest enemy. According to my friends, the Giraffa should have won the Polio having been assigned the best horse in the Piazza. They suspected that the Giraffa sold out to some other contrada and consequently did not win the Palio. Val del Montone, the poorest contrada could not afford much in terms of Palio and had but a small horse to run with though a head heard. The horse fell, they said on his first round at the corner of San Martino, dropped the fantino (rider) however, being a breed of head herd and wanting to stay ahead at all times he got up, and all alone got back into the race. Darting and dashing ahead, he passed and overtook all the others and in the next two rounds won the Palio. The Val del Montone euphoric and enchanted for having won a Palio after 20 years celebrated like there were no tomorrows. We did not pause or sleep and we were tired beyond our strength. When our weariness became evident, my friends and I returned to their house to doze off and then in the afternoon we went back to the coffee house where the excitement had just began:

“Hurrah for the feminists” A girl came over to our table shouting.

“Certainly, Hurrah for the feminists” my friends Zabob replied sarcastically.

“You don’t think? Really there should be better laws for women especially down in the south…” Manuela my other friend managed to say.

“Yes but what do they want after all these feminists. I don’t understand them.” Il Chicchero, Mara’s husband replied.

“They want superiority in rights,” Manuela answered promptly.

“Ah beat it. What do these women want? Listen you give them…”

“It’s a good cause…,” said Mara another friend.

“It’s a just cause. That is not a good cause. You listen to me. You give any of these women three four good thumps and they are good as chickens can be”

“Sure good as chickens, listen to that one there, you’re so funny,” Mara told her husband.

“Yeah I’m a comedy” he replied to her friendly badinage with a defensive expression.

“Trust me. You give these women a few good screws they are immediately in the balloon… and that is as far as their feminism will carry them.’

“In any case…” Mara had wanted to continue

“Sure these feminist, I would….” he said always more angry.

“Look in any case women have good reason to protest... now apart from Siena, because Siena….”

“I would thoroughly screw them all. I would give it to them all right.” Zabob was muttering as if speaking to himself and not really listening.

“In any case their grievances are always justified you know why?” Mara persisted

“Because apart for married women let’s say, a woman for instance whose got commitments and a family, that is different for instance… but let’s take for example a girl who is free and unattached instead , well if you see her running around with different guys all the times she’s immediately called a bitch and a slut.”

“What does that have to do with feminism?” Zabob asked looking confused.

“It’s got every thing to do with feminism,” she shouted

“because on the other hand, if a guy is seen walking around one day with one girl and the next day with another he’s a macho because he can have as many as he wants! Do you think that is fair?”

‘No it’s not fair.” Chicchero agreed.

“Well then if it’s not fair then the feminists do well to fight these taboos…. They have fun and they…”

“But they should put out then…they don’t give to you. Not the women I …”Zabob burst out.

“But”

“No they just like going around teasing and breaking balls.” He smirked

“Eh… but that is even better!” Manuela said convinced.

“No wait. Then they should say, now in order to fight these taboos we shall give it all.” Chicchero suggested.

“O sure. Get a load of this one . You poor boy. Hurrah for free love.” Manuela was now defying and staring at her husband.

“So what of it!” Chicchero shrugged his shoulders

“No I tell you people . These girls are a bunch of jackals.” This from Zabob

“Hurrah for the feminists. In any case we women are always superior. Intellectually and “

“That is not true, it’s not true...’ interrupted Zabob

“But how could it not be true. Firstly a woman today, generally speaking as it is a woman can control her sexual urges much more then a man because she has always an outlet, a monthly menstrual cycle which you men don’t have. In fact a woman can do without sexual intercourse better then a man, therefore we women could do better without men.”

”We too. We can be self-sufficient” Zabob insisted.

“But so can women is the reason for the demonstration” Manuela persisted.

“All right but to be self-sufficient does not mean you are happy “Zabob pointed out

“Of course not. Being self- sufficient does not allow you to get into a woman’s panties… Look here don’t make me spell it out, you men, you even pay women, just think about all the time you spend looking at porno and talking about it” Mara was now blushing in rage,

“But being self-sufficient I’m sorry doesn’t give you much satisfaction” he chuckled:

“Naturally it does not give satisfaction. It’s logical it does not give you satisfaction, but you still need it.” Mara just could not contain herself.

“But you need it to.” Insisted Zabob

“But much less though…. And then there is another argument. We we do not pay men! She said triumphant

“You don’t think…”Chicchero intervened.

“Oh no he’s right! There are women who do pay men to!” Zabob agreed

“Ah but those kind of women, let’s face it, they are imbeciles!’ she replied gravely.

‘Agreed. They are imbeciles. Just like men who go to prostitutes are imbeciles,” Chicchero said

‘But to be … Now let us be honest about this. Have you ever seen men stand in street corners, men…?”

“Of course, there are men that do that. There are those men too. We see them.” Chicchero assured his wife

“You know. I would never steep so low” Mara sighed in disgust

“No you would not steep so low and neither would I go to prostitutes.” Chicchero said again

“In any case generally speaking if a man sees women pass by him and she makes tender eyes at you and is responding right away you run to her.”

“No. no we don’t bother with them at all, we shit on them, on those easy ones there. We, instead, we want the woman, we look for women of elevated visions, women of high morals and values....”

“Go fuck you” Mara was now exasperated.

“You see what is going on now here in Siena. That is something we did not need to bother with I am telling you these women going around shouting and screaming all over the place are a nuisance. Listen I’m just going to run over to the Favorita and fetch a guitar or else I will be just sitting here arguing with this woman and soon or later I will have to wring her neck just like we do to chickens.”

“I would like to see you try” Mara kept antagonizing.

“Nathalie I bid you” Manuela then turned to me.

“I bid you Nathalie you women in Canada rebel, protest as well, tell the women to protest

because from what I hear about Canada many laws for women stink there too, less pay compared to men, less opportunities less jobs at the top.”

I laughed.

“Ok. I’ll remember to tell them.”

“I really don’t understand women at all. They have everything they could possibly want and more and they are complaining and protesting. Take my wife here now. for instance. She does everything she wants and really does not think about anything else but her own needs. In the morning she gets up to go to work, then in the evening she goes to school, I never get to see her anymore if it were not for the weekend, for a couple of hours, because, of course, even then, she’s out doing errands shopping visiting with her girlfriends. We never get to spend any time together anymore. If ever I wanted to tell her something I have to leave her notes or phone her otherwise I never get to tell anything. You tell me what they are striving at these feminists? The family instead is suffering and more and more in crisis.”

“Of course it’s in crisis but who’s fault is it, that is men’s fault and that is what we’re protesting men’s treatment of women.”

“Yeah you think that is what they are doing? Do you think it justifiable what they did to the Mattone in Fonte Gaia?”

“Well they had their say.” Mara replied pensively

“Come on now be real they were disgusting and abhorring, they proved themselves the jackasses they could ever be. Nathalie you were not here but you would not believe what they did to this poor soul here in Siena. After staging a procession, parading, and humiliating him and all men in general they had him stand in front of the Fountain and had him take off his clothes saying ‘Why don’t you cut it off. We do not need it. We can do it ourselves between fingering and vibrators and various toys we can manage just fine.’ Now you tell me these women are they in right mind to you? Women are more hysterical then ever and becoming more absurd then ever and their demands even more unreasonable and irrational. “

“Unreasonable and irrational? For instance” asked Manuela

“Did you not hear them? They asked that men have the babies bear the pains of labor and wreck their figures like women do. You tell me these women are coherent and thinking straight then let me tell you, the majority of feminists are all lesbians.”

“Well, I got to agree that that is true.” Mara nodded pensively

”I say if those hogs had done to me what they had done to Mattone I would have shown to them all “ said Zabob giving a distorted expression.

“Sure you would have” Mara laughed while she came over bent down to kiss me good-bye.

“Nathalie it was good to see you. Sorry I have to run just now, but I am going to be late for my class if I do not hurry but do come back and visit us soon. “

The short spat was abruptly interrupted by Mara’s leaving but I thought that it was significant the issues they had raised and that woman were extending the possibilities of carrying children to the outer world. If the benign science could actually do it perhaps, there would be man-carrying babies instead and perhaps less struggles between the sexes.

In Siena, I had forgotten Amadeus, forgotten even to phone him, for by the day I partied

Plunged into wine helplessly not sure whether I wanted to leave and return to Turin in I In an unconscious sort of way was I not ready to go back to Turin?

Chapter 20

I hastened to keep up with him as he snatched my bags from my grip and hurried forward. In the dim light of the train station, his eyes gleamed and his face looked pale.

I ran behind him finding more and more difficult to keep up his pace. A flood of emotions began to take over me and anger began building on my chest .When I realized he wasn’t going to slow down I stopped and stared at him but he pounded straight to his automobile and threw open his car door and quickly shoved the luggage in the back seat. He quickly moved to the front door and slammed me in the front seat. He didn’t lose any time and pounding me down with the unanswered questions told me that I was nothing but a spoiled brat, my behavior was way out of line and that I was being hard to hard to handle. He had not liked that I had gone away but especially that I had not called and give him any news of my whereabouts. He was so angry I thought he was going to loose it.

“Sorry Amadeus. You’re ok?” I tried to smile.

“No, Nathalie I am not ok. This just will not do. You have no sense of responsibility towards others. I have been out of my mind with worry. It has been two days and you have not called. My mother and I have been on the phone for hours trying to contact anybody who could possibly give us some clues as to where you might be. You left and you did not leave an address or phone number as to where you might be reached and neither did you think to call us of any delay No I think you owe me an explanation. I don’t think we can go on like this”

“I am sorry,” I repeated.

“No Nathalie no, you are not excused. It really is unforgivable what you have done.

You do not know any good manners or show any courtesy for your fellowmen.

You owe me an explanation. You might find this hard to believe but while you are here

Visiting me in Europe I feel responsible for you. That is right Nathalie I feel a tremendous responsibility for you!”

Fuck it ,I thought, when he said that. Fuck this bullshit and glanced up to watch him still screaming , I couldn’t even look at him and didn’t like to know that I was been thought of as a burden . What the hell I thought I am not a child. I can take care of myself. Why all this fuzz and having to account for every moment of my life. I sat beside him in the car trying to gain my composure but tears were falling freely down my cheeks.

He had kept wanting to shake me up and to get me to say something but I had nothing to say to his remarks of what an irresponsible person I was, insensitive and untrustworthy. He definitely did not agree when I timidly told him that I was perfectly capable of taking care of myself. I leaned back and stared at the road ahead of us. Never in my wildest imagination would I have pictured that he could become such an idiot. Blabber so violently offend and go so insane on me. I was taken aback by the verbal liberalities that he took with me while scolding me it made me rethink everything going on. How our relationship had altered so and how I was liking it less and less his flipping out on me. . Okay, I thought where we are? What is next? I felt awkward like I really did not know this man and he was rigid with anxiety because he too was guessing that our moment was slipping and things were not ok and he too seemed to be grappling with the situations and his mighty dreams turned into nightmare

After he had done complaining and following my stubborn silence, he seemed more concerned with his driving while, the heavy congested roads seem to add to the stress and increase his irritations. As he was just turning, the corner he allowed himself to be borne away on the swirling curve and something narrowed in a faint smile expressing something of a guile of a wild animal. It was hard to tell what he was thinking yet the shape of his skull and the slope of his brow seemed to have returned to a strange gentleness and serenity that I felt then to say something that would not particularly remind us of the aggravated tension between us. Everywhere one looks and turns in Turin is reminded of past history and especially monarchy, one only need read street names like Corso Umberto, Corso Vittorio Emanuele II or drive through famous Royal Buildings to feel the Torinese are still awaiting their Prince to return to his throne . In some places instead by the River Po, the area was quite depressing and buildings run down sewers and waste. In other words Turin’s very own junkyard. Men whistling whispering invitations to pleasure selling, with women walking at their side endorsing to arrange with clients who pay them for their services. I took a breath when we reached Piazza San Carlo and its almost twin churches. Though it is common to think everywhere in Italy there is an abundance of art, in Turin perhaps is less obviously so. Of Roman art, for instance Turin retains very little except in design as Turin preserves its ancient roman plan originally divided in districts of subdivisions or blocks known as insulae but for the rest most of the city has been built anew. Palazzo Madama, Amadeus told me was built in an old roman tower and then there is Porta Palatina one of the few monuments still standing and dating to the first century of the Empire. I liked baroque Turin overall and the possibility that it could become my new home truly pleased me.

When we got home it was obvious that the worst was not over, Amadeus’s mother had been waiting up for us and as we entered the house I could see her shaking her head and

looking at me in disbelief.

“Here we go again” I thought

“I‘ll have to explain everything to everyone”

She was quiet and gave me a chance to explain and tried to explain why I was late and had not been able to disengage myself from a dinner invitation but I knew that the chance of making a good impression\ now was very remote. In spite of it all and her strict manners, something seemed to move Mrs. Maffei to feel some compassion for me and now tried to patch things up between Amadeus and myself. She was encouraging him to listen and try to understand me, admitting herself her own inability to assimilate herself with our (North American) ideas with American people. She was kinder, gentler acting actually, as if it had not been bad at all what had happened, or nothing of serious consequence. In the meantime Amadeus was still sitting with his back turned to me.

“Listen, I really think she didn’t mean to alarm you or she would have probably called to warn you she was going to be late. I think had she thought about how she might be causing you such misery she wouldn’t have done it.”

However, I only felt more weak and hopeless when she tried to show consideration for me

“She was brought up to think differently then ourselves. They are much more independent then we are and did not feel it necessary to call you. She is not as helpless as we think. She speaks our language very well and can get around very well on her own “

“Oh please, mom, the fact she’s not from here is not much of an excuse. Every culture in the world recognizes that a person should act responsibly.” He shrugged.

This is getting too much I thought as I became tearful again.

“I’m a responsible person Amadeus. What you do not understand is that I can get by myself and do not need someone holding my hand all the time. I am self-sufficient!’

“Self-sufficient? Does that mean you do not care about anybody else? Because Natalie the truth is, you do not care how others might feel. You don’t give a damn about me otherwise you would have wanted to stay here and spend time wanting to get to know more about me and my family. Instead what do you do, you decide to go take off and go and see your friends. Crazy. Your friends are more important. Which means I’m less to you”

Moreover, he was so completely annoyed with me that he did not stay for another discussion, furiously leaned down to fetch his sweater he had dropped on the sofa, span open the door and ran out ; descending the stairs in a hurry.

‘I am sorry “Mrs. Maffei was now scolding and reproaching:

‘But I have to agree on this with him on this matter. I do not want to interfere in your relationship but you worried him greatly today. You hurt him greatly today.”

Chapter 21

“Legend has it that the Sacra was built piece by piece by angels and doves from a smaller church sitting opposite Mount Cervari. The legend is about a young maiden who supposedly was saved by angels. L’Alda was praying in the Church when some foreign soldiers were about to rape her. Desperate to escape the brutal attach she jumped off the Church Tower and the angels seeing what she had done helped her land on the ground safe without any damage to herself. She was so happy about the miracle that without any particular reason she tried to jump a second time but the second time she died hitting her head on the rocks.”

Amadeus uttered the story spontaneously and with humor; however I thought I noticed in his tone and his remark some kind of warning as to not to tempt fate and take unnecessary risks. For myself it seemed he lost no opportunity to remind my of my escapade to Siena and it seemed that he exploited every change he could to remind me of it. I felt confused at first I thought he told me I did not have to account for my conduct .

When I wanted to explain and thought I did in fact owe an explanation for my tardiness he did not want to hear about it and had wanted the entire incident to evaporate and did not want to be reminded of it any more. I too decided to let it pass. I looked at Amadeus and his husk body and sighed. The more time I spend with him the more I worshipped him. I felt myself grow smaller in comparison and more insecure. He seemed strong decisive in comparison. Definitely someone who has got it all together and knows what he is doing at all times. I thought so much about the two of us and always came up with different conclusions, from benevolent thoughts of internal peace and a long life together. I also envisioned my life lonely and frustrating and Amadeus not capable of understanding my needs and vulnerability. I thought he was everything I wanted in a man but he was also a contradiction of what I seem to need. He has less time for me for instance. I needed him to be there for me but his work seemed to take so much of his time. I did not want to feel too dependent as he suggested I should be and liked to have more personal space to come and go as I wanted and not feel like I needed to explain every single move or thought I entertained.. He constantly wanted to know what I was thinking and I never addressed my thoughts and psyche as often as he asked me to do, sometimes I even felt drained. Perhaps I thought to myself I am not an interesting person and that is the problem or perhaps I never asked myself all those things that Amadeus wanted to know about me or that there wasn’t that much to tell. Naturally, I thought obviously our problem was a cultural one. There were ways of doing and thinking things that we did different and sometimes these things got on the way.

It had gotten dark and we were still driving around the city. Turin seemed to hold everything and more one needs to live comfortably and then is a contradiction as if it were so rich in temperament and so weak in spirit. As an industrial city and business, oriented Turin perhaps may also appear cold and less interested with the human being and his individual problems or feelings. The streets the huge luminous insignias of Fiat, Stampa, Cinzano Al lmoni the sexy monuments spoke of Turin as being especially a fast growing city modern and always at la van guarde. At a bar where we had stopped for espresso, Amadeus and I argued again. I had been sipping my Amaretto and was conversing with the bartender. Amadeus thought we had grown too familiar for his taste and grew very annoyed.

“You seemed to enjoy your conversation,” he later said sarcastically.

“Yeah. He told me he has been in Toronto. We were talking about that”

“Ah skip it just skip it!” and slapped the car door behind me.

He always hid all valuable underneath Kleenex tissue boxes because thieves were everywhere taking things all the times and he hoped to find both stereo and car on our return from our outings. I has bought a yoyo for fun and while strolling back home from the garage I was playing flickering swaying it the air and all over the place, fascinated by all the pretty lights it produced I played with it tossing it up and down . I couldn’t stop it seems I continued to play with that damn thing till I got to his nerves If at the beginning he made an effort to accommodate me and my mood but he soon became fed up and disgusted. On the other hand I was feeling a little tipsy as La Freisa , l’ vin torinese that the waiter r back at the restaurant had been generously poring in my glass during our meal and the amaretto that I had at the bar in Piazza San Carlo all things combined had me feeling and acting pretty silly. I do not hold neither wine nor liquor well and soon began to feel so lightheaded that I could easily loose some of my self-control and as it, usually I also felt like throwing all caution to the wind. The vision became blurry and things acquire a different vision when one is drunk. Amadeus Filiberto’s bronze had seemed to be going bowling, or it became herds galloping horses and Palazzo Carignani with it undulating structure reminded me of ferries wheels rides, boat cruises.

“You know” I told him “Guarino Guarini is ok by me, since he had been telling me abit about the famous architect.

‘I know my love. My love, I know!” He was saying holding me ever so tight. I remember telling him many things under the effect of alcohol including how great I thought it would be if we could do it right there in the velvety gardens of the Valentino and fuck underneath a Turin silver moon. He was laughing with me and occasionally raising his hand to my mouth bidding me to keep it down and not to make a scandal.

‘’’’’’’

He was quiet after having made love to me. I still feeli foolish. There is one thing about Amadeus he does not like to be photographed:

Nathalie dear” he wrote after my constant pleading that he had sent me a photograph of himself:

“Now you see me as I am made. The pictures are not particularly beautiful neither is the subject but it has been very hard to find these pictures of myself, then I am not comfortable posing for pictures, it makes me feel uneasy .I am not photogenic. These pictures had been taken without me having had any knowledge of it, at a work out center before my acrobatic tournament and was, with a certain amount of effort able to obtain the negatives. These are the only pictures I possess that are most recent of me and show me as I look like now, before I did not have the moustache. I am hopeful that you will not be disappointed. I have to admit I am not Alain Delon (he is cuter) but I am hopeful that you will be satisfied even with one like me. This way you will be able to recognize me!”

“No” he yelled when he saw me point the camera at him.

“You don’t want to do that!” And try to take it away from me.

“Come I do. Yes I do Amadeus I do” I insisted on holding on to my camera.

His whole self I thought animated a superiority above the norm . He’e solid and firm and so handsome and courteous that I thought it was a pity that he thought the way he did and that I wanted to entrap the beauty that my eyes were now adoring and exciting me. And I wanted him. I wanted him and wanted to possess him. I wanted him to belong to me and me alone.

“Amadeus” I asked hesitantly afterwards

“Me buona per Italiano?”

“Yes, my love, yes yes yes.” And he held me close to him hugged me so tight I could feel the lust in my breast that it almost hurt.

It was the last night we spent together. The rest of the day was quite crazy. We learned that airline had gone on strike and I could not go home yet. I was the drop that caused the pot to tip over. I was upset, as I had no idea how I was going to explain my prolonged absence at work. There it was that I could not appreciate anything that was Italian anymore, the entire country seemed so disorganized. They were never ready for usual emergencies for instance snow storms. Italian never filled up their gas tank and you could get stranded anywhere in the middle of nowhere. There was never any toilet paper in public bathrooms or else you had to pay for it and now this, the airline went on strike and you could not rely that they get you to your destination on time. All the unfortunate incidents that took place during my stay they would help to prove and make my point across to Amadeus that Italy just did not cut it.

He had been listening silently to my bitching and grown more melancholic and annoyed. and without making any more concession or worries about how I might take it he told me he couldn’t wait with me at the airport. He was going to leave me there alone for my next plane till the next morning . Firstly he was not allowed to stay with the passenger and secondly he was busy with work he could not possible cancel his engagements..

I was shocked on how abruptly he left me there by myself. I had not thought he would leave me there alone. He had to tend to his work it just could not wait until next morning with me anymore he said.

He is hiding behind his work again. I thought a subterfuge I thought. He does not want to be with me. Our goodbyes were awkward. Amadeus was annoyed at the situation and he did not hide it. .There was hardly any compassion for me and the position he was leaving me in. I felt a growing pain when I remembered how we had parted and our last kiss. He kissed me on the cheek, shook my hand, then left in a hurry leaving me in such a presage, and so anguished.

I thought we had hardly talked. A sensation of incommunicable void began to take hold of me as if my life without Amadeus had no further interest, no truth, nothing to gather me or stimulate me. Amadeus was Amadeus. He was my world, without Amadeus an absolute void would remain around me, not even the very air to breath expect this vast void, this desperation that I was afraid without Amadeus by my side would be without time or barriers. I could not; I would not even tolerate the idea of being of losing him.

Thus, I rushed down to the lobby from my hotel room anxious to hear his voice again.

I did not want to let on that I had been crying and just had wanted to tell him that I loved him and apologized for being so difficult and impossible to get along with.

Chapter 22

“Nathalie dear I have the regret of letting you go without communicating to you or better communicate what I had wanted to tell you. They were nice things. Forgive me if I did not do it. I do not even know why, but I really had meant to and I still do want to tell it to you. Our get together was nice. Even the small fights and misunderstandings (provided they were such) have not left a trace. As if, they had been grains of sand in an ocean of sand. You went away and left me here with a bitter taste in mouth a squalor and sensation of void around me as if my life as I have told you earlier on has been made up of lengthy silences huge and incommunicable. Nothing interests me, nothings gather me, and nothing stimulates me. You are the only one capable to make me smile. And express happy thoughts and take away the melancholies from my eyes. At times, however I get the impression that I need to be more careful and maybe shield you from myself even. Do not ask me why, do not ask me more I would not know what to answer you. The two weeks we have spent together have been wonderful but incredibly short. I was comfortable being with you, you were able to reach inside me and become a part of me, something that has not happened before. You are a smart woman. Tu buona per Italiano I am convinced of it and you deserve much more than the undersigned here. Whenever I look back at the time we were together, I realize I have behaved and done things that were far from ordinary to my usual self. However, it seemed so very right and normal that we should be together the two us that being together was an old habit and permanent arrangement. The attention that I have dedicated you were not my normal behavior, and me telling you this does not mean that I liked being ill-mannered inattentive and insensitive with other people but still the constant and dedicating attention I have devoted to you will remain for myself and those who know me historical happenings. I did not worry about anyone as much as it has happened with you. Yes Nathalie, I am desolate that you are not here to enrich my life to comfort it to have you and yourself sustain me. But Nathalie so that you will know, no one can ever replace you, you will always be you, unique irreplaceable, precious. Before you left, you asked me to remember that you love me. How could I forget it Nathalie? How could I? How could one not see if they have eyes the beauty of the flowers, the trees, nature? Can you not be aware or feel the warmth of the rising sun? These things cannot escape us. Your love for me is all these things…”

Love is the slowest form of suicide I wanted to die without him. I went back to my work the next day dazed and confused. Could he be taking advantage of me could he be fucking around with me? He tells me he loves me yet I should not ask any question and why ask me to remember he loved me was there something he was not letting on. What was it about him that I could not do without it and why couldn’t I hold on to it? I did not want what he had passed on quickly and I had not had time to sort out things. I had I fallen fast and had not thought of the consequences. And here he was creating an access amount of nervousness and widening the conflict and space between us demanding magnanimity and heroic gestures. That our relationship was most unusual and difficult was obvious but why and no matter how he tried not to he needed to study and analyze absolutely everything why could he not accept love incredible as it was for us and just live it. And what was he afraid of? Why was he always so cautious? What could happen?

I wanted a normal relationship like everybody else and Amadeus to foster enlighten sustain and help with understanding. I did not sympathize or appreciate the problem amplified as to widen gulf between us But Amadeus nudged and pricked drove me crazy with all his ramblings of every if and maybes leaving me a confused soul needing

to know more, begging more to go on, but no answers came. Some people have said love to be a slow form of suicide. Waiting for Amadeus to give me more and move to have a more fulfilling relationship was like slowly committing suicide. In an ideal situation, I should have been the happiest person, secure in my emotional base but I was no way near having established a secure foundation. I began to feel more and more alone without an available and supportive partner that combined with his negative self –image and effects of his previous adverse experiences in a corrupted work environment he was now feeling more anxious and ambivalent in a relationship

The solitude of being away and together was unbearable, I began to wish things were not what they were and even wished at time that I had never met him and while I tried to concentrate on other things the chore was a desperate one. I felt Amadeus deep within me in my soul in my mind that I was no longer able to concentrate on anything else. Worst I was afraid I might die without him that I had now become so emotionally dependant on him I was no longer able to function by myself and carry on my own without him in my life.

I needed him to breathe life within me everyday of my life. I needed his letters I needed his phone calls and needed to know he loved me. Everyday I struggled to get back to old routine friends and family, but Amadeus was always on my mind. He had become an obsession.

. Something had changed within. Something had changed me forever. He had changed me and I myself felt I would never t be the same again. Vice versa, I felt responsible for his happiness. As keeper of his soul and secret I felt responsible for his survival his deliverance and as time went on I came to meditate that this love required an enormous sacrifice on my part. I was not going to let him down, I was going to support him sustain him as he asked me to I was going to stay by his side.

The correspondence continued I kept on working and though my friends tried their best to keep me afloat and prevent me from sinking and thinking of him by asking me out and keeping in touch I wanted more to keep to myself . Time went by I grew horribly lonely angry and disappointed I drank myself to sleep at night and got wasted .I was no longer free because I belonged to Amadeus. But we were not lovers. Somehow, I felt I had lost myself in him and would never be set free again. . I began to grow moody and dislike everything about me. I had condemned myself to be home always for Amadeus calls and letters that home had become pretty much my prison where I now felt claustrophobic in. He had uprooted me from my world convinced me that my life had been senseless and without any meaning before him and now, he had become the addiction I did not know how to do without. I questioned for instance whether my friends had not been right all along and warning me about the dangers of such high-speed relationship and how a man who wins over a woman so quickly has some other program under his sleeve. Once again I tried to search for some sign that would equally reveal the need to assume more responsibility and he move our relationship forward and while he had tried to convince me and securely attach himself as my provider I suspected that maybe he had grown afraid that he might be thinking me as high maintenance and huge financial burden. I did not want to lose him and I wanted to surmount all possible obstacles to our being happy together I felt more and more helpless and powerless and all I could do was to repeat to him that I loved him and wanted us to be together as soon as possible.

“Amore I love you too. But I am afraid you were right the other day when you said we must give this a lot of thought. We have so much to consider. I am worried too. I am afraid for you. There is so much that you have to sustain if you decide to come and live here.”

Gwen sat me down to talk to me. She was seriously concerned about me and what this was doing to me.

‘Let him go Nathalie! He’s not for you and I don’t think he should be hurt,” she said

“What are you talking about? I love him”

“What about Pierre. Have you told him about him?”

And I guessed it must have been a moment of weakness and loneness that she had me telling her I did not love him.

I worked overtime to fight the desperation of being alone. I partied. I went to the movies every night. For the rest of the time, I was drunk or stoned wanting to avoid thinking about the future that could or could never become a reality. Amadeus had worked a spell on me I was bewitched. The question was could I work out enough magic to set him straight or change his crooked world. Could I ever succeed I wondered and become the miracle maker he suggested I should be.

The winter was long and something dark was getting hold of me. I was lonely for him and felt all alone wrapped up in my drama. Something I could not quite define was taking the better of me. At the beginning of spring, my friends suggested we take a trip up north to Manoutlin Island to get away from the busy and hectic city. Manoutlin Island on Lake Superior is Ontario’s best kept secret, the Island is blessed with natural beauty but it is also the freshest water in the world. On our way, we stopped in Little Current for some lunch, take pictures of the famous swing bridge, and photograph the passage of yachts through the narrowest point of the channel. The island is a breath of fresh air and unique scenic beauty where Native life and European culture blend in one thus drawing my friends to try many new winter sports like ice fishing and snowmobiling. In some areas the snow had melted enough to the point we thought we could cycle though some of scenic and various trails. On Sunday we rented bikes and cycled to one of the Islands favorite hiking trail the Cup and Saucer and while passing through interesting sights of churches scattered here and a couple of places of pastures with cows horses grazing for the most part the bay was cold and frozen and the waters around us a solid firmament of ice . However, .being away from home was like being away from my sanctuary and Amadeus. I thought about him all the time on the cold white island of Georgian Bay; he had now become an obsession and continued to remain persistent on my mind. `

In the evening we went out for moose meat and then my friends got this crazy ideas to go skating on the creeping frozen lake, and while they were pretty comfortable at the idea I on the other hand was very scared and feeling extremely cold decided to sit it out. I did not step out the door anymore and spend the rest of the evening by myself. I missed Amadeus and in my thoughts wanted to be with him. I decided I enjoyed doing less without he being there enjoying doing things with me. Physically and emotionally there was nothing to gather me interest me and keep me there. I thought how it might have been all different had he been there with me. I remembered how interested he was in wanting to learn more about our Canadian culture:

“ I read somewhere that there are still Indians in British Columbia dedicated to the preservation of their culture, a very high level of culture at that, why “ he had told me once

“It is told that in the world of medicine, Indians possess many secret cures that they pass on only to people of their own culture.’ I thought about Mrs. Maffei and Patrizia and all their interest and greed for our of Canadian fur I thought about the brief time we had spend together in Italy and how soon the time it had all had come to an end.

Chapter 23

Pierre’s friends nicknamed him “L’artista fallito” (The failed artist) and I never met anyone who drew so much pleasure from the title for he believed his to be the classical situation of superiority in talent and inferiority in privilege. As it was it, it was easy and act as if I had not he was not pleased at all to see him there at the concert

“Guess it can’t be helped ,someone must always wreck the day”. I said to Cornelia.

I kept my secret always within but I would not take my eyes off him. My rage was boundless looking at his animated face as he was leaning back with his hands clasped in his lap and conversing with the girl. His eyes were gleaming as if could not give lead as he would have liked and that made me feel more wrathful. Only when we walked by them on our way to our sitting place, I could look at girl and that was in turn now crying for his attention, with her brief uncertain and radiant smile. She seemed rather friendly asking for it or I could have otherwise just creaked past them even said hello, when she rather chilled my steps by what seemed to me outrageous flirting. In spite of myself insidiously I prepared the quarrel for a battle by walking right up to him, without even looking at him, I signaled vibes of intolerance towards the girl sitting next to him and without further ado asked him:

“What do you think you are doing here?” and ordered him to come away with me immediately.

Pierre smiled tenderly never showing any sign of surprise said in docility”

“Take it easy Take it easy now. I’ll see you back at your place in a while.”

……..

Nothing ever comes to an end.

“Whenever one has sank roots that emanate from one’s best and truest self one will always find home.”

Liv Ullman wrote.

Pierre satiated me with the contact renewed. One wonders how it can be that Pierre who had always treated me like some old furniture could stir me to such heights and at the same time aversive emotions. Reluctantly and without salutation I took Cornelia advice and decided to follow her out to our assigned seats

“Asshole” I muttered still angry.

“What’s has gotten over you? How could you do that there?”

Cornelia was always stupefied by my drama with Pierre.

“Haven’t you had enough of him yet? Isn’t enough what he’s put you through that you

go right back asking for more.”

I had stopped confiding in Cornelia, especially when it came to Pierre because I felt ashamed and conjectured she should not have to ask these difficult questions. I could explain everything to her except my behavior when it came to Pierre or how I felt towards Pierre. There was no reasoning to the situation created; all I knew was that I melted every time I saw him and never could I turn him away. I felt ashamed guilty because I knew Amadeus loved me and did not deserve my being untruthful but somehow I thought I should get at the bottom of the problem. I needed both it seemed to communicate with both of them and sort out what was going on. The truth of the matter was that I did not wish for Cornelia to discover what a rotten mess I was in and how badly I had behaved I really couldn’t let her know what a crappy person I really was. Moreover, while I was thinking all that I remembered Amadeus in Italy his loud accusations in our hotel room:

“You are in bad faith Nathalie You are in bad faith”

“Cornelia” I assured my friend

“For heaven’s sake I don’t care a hood about him but he did not have to act that way and let everyone in there know”

‘Let everyone know what?” she asked now more exasperated

“Well, you know. That we were intimate at one time that is all. Ah forget it Cornelia, You can’t see the game he plays”

The musicians worked up a storm on stage. Laura Brandigan was there too. The crowd kept calling her back for encores and she kept singing Gloria. I think she sang it four times. She was just coming out as they say but the crowd was enthusiastic and exited. Young people shouting rejoicing to the music waving signs flickering lights and small flags and dancing exhaustedly that it was a rather fun event.

My thoughts paced backwards at what had taken place earlier, inwardly and outwardly a smile rose to my lips in anticipation of the evening still to come. Nevertheless, I sat still and afterwards too in the restaurant at Frans I drank my coffee in leisure. I was completely leaned back and was listening to her and was being reminded that I had let Pierre embarrass me. I noticed she was watching me with an air of sadness, but I was there nevertheless with her in this spring evening and now its luminosity and telling her I was in no great hurry to part.

“Let’s forget all about that,” I told her

“Let’s enjoy our visit together. It’s such a lovely night and I had a good time.”

Cornelia was looking at her food ardently. It was comparatively easy for Cornelia to be pleased with things and life.

“Oh I have so much to tell you,” she was saying during the course of our meal and she said in such a way that was a ritual hint to help her enjoy the telling.

“Really do tell.”

The Blue Note, a new discothèque had just opened near Avenue Road. She loved to tell me about it. These events and small interests were Cornelia’s statement that life essentially could be without discomforts. Everything was at hand for her that could make the moment an occasion that would do beautifully. She is a happy and sociable person. She was cheerful she lifted my morale. It did not matter where we were at home with relatives, friends work or school I could always count on Cornelia being there for me standing by me. Naturally, she had wanted to hear everything about my trip to Italy. She seemed genuinely pleased to hear that the problem and complications with Pierre had been transitory and smoothened however; neither did her lose opportunity of standing upon her dignity vexing and mortifying about my conduct. Not wishing to appear a woman without morals and feeling that I had not yet recovered from my inequity took much of time covering truths and garnishing it with pretty lies. I was convinced that characteristically, simply put Cornelia and I shared a common morality a common religion that in all its aspects were tangible ideal to live by. Though life sometimes

chooses to deal with you in a most rare fashion that you just have to stay in the game and play out your cards until the end.

At home, I removed my shoes slipped into my housecoat and fidgeted around for a long time. I stood at a loss when he finally showed up at my door and standing in my living room. But then, I had never had any doubts that he would not have come and I did not show or express any sign of surprise:

“Talk about coincidence. I did not know you were back. I phoned you immediately. I was waiting for you to call me. What took you so long!” he asked and then continued,

“I’m glad you’re back. You’re back”

His eyes were burning and likewise I felt the tremor rise to my breast seizing me and growing languid. I felt myself fall downwards as he sought my lips, and I was once again holding his embrace his masculine lips I was accustomed to. Our embraces were painful, and kisses fierce who knows maybe even an underlying impulse to want to hurt each other, but the same exaltation as always. The kisses he rose to my lips and face that tingled until my body rose into natural rhythm with his and swaying together. All contrivance that can rise in the midst of passion from our breast and being that can be met only when touching base thus culminate in two people finding each other and exploding and shouting each other’s name

“I’m going to leave him.” The words sprang out of my mouth.

“What are you waiting for?” though he did not seem to be neither directly concerned.

“I just want to fuck. No more. I just want to fuck.” I repeated

“It’s all a matter of chemistry,” Pierre was saying now kissing me on my mouth.

“You can have everything you want of me. I can give you everything you need.

Only you do as I say.”

I trembled and raged in his arms for it was astounding how Pierre could preserve

such superiority in his iniquity. Moreover, what kind dictator was he that he thought I should do everything he said? Pierre was indeed somewhat of a fascist but I on the other hand was mesmerized and disregarded the dangers in giving in to such demands.

It was in that state and in one of eager false excitement then that drove me to act as I did.

In difficulties one sees through a character of a person. I could not convince myself I was doing the right thing though I could not stay on top of things and be a la pare with the situation and though I had wanted very much to forget about Pierre it was foolish of me to think I could and worst it was wrong to go on deceiving Amadeus. I did not have the courage to surmount myself and rise above it all. I did not think about what I hoped to

gain staying submissive in a relationship with Pierre. I never trusted Pierre and didn’t’

think anything good would come out of our being together but the fear to go wrong with Amadeus , the biggest fear that I might end up hurting him more, made me act quickly and thus send him a telegram with few explanations and an apology:

“I have to fight and win this battle against myself. I love you. Please forgive me…Nathalie.”

Amadeus never replied to my telegram. My life would resume its normal course though I felt a loss, a sorrow as if I had lost the dearest person in my life. I felt this sorrow was never going to mend. I had obeyed my scruples, I watched myself in the mirror, and I was not used to seeing myself this way standing upright in majestic dignity.

It was admirable the subtlety and smoothness of my complexion showing delicate and sublime womanly grace. Yes. I had done the right. I had set him free, free from myself and the monster I had become.

My heart was still in its place I had set him free protected him from myself and lost him in an instant.

Chapter 24

The rooms in the townhouse were not especially large but the house was big enough and we decided that we could live together the three of us. Keith did not change much our daily routine. He was direct and with visible goodness, a person of spontaneous vicissitudes and affability that it was a diversion to find ourselves in one’s company. We had an abundance of things in the house now however that we did not where to put everything and there were the pets, the new addition. Euback was old and sick and had us on our toes most of time worried. Keith was taking to the vet twice a week refusing to end its life by artificial means. I grew to love it best and to protect it from Chrystal and Bert chasing them away every time they came close to Euback as they simply terrified the tiny canine. Euback would see them coming by him and because he knew he could not defend himself you would see it take off like a thunderbolt while they proceeded to chase and search for it throughout the whole house. To envelope, my life was for the rest boredom and emptiness. Little changed in my relationship with Pierre, he promised nothing and made no promises instead beside Keith and Gwen did I breathe that which love inspires. The both of them of good nature and so much in love that it kept me protected with a sense of goodness and warm around me.

Many times during the day Amadeus’s image would present itself in front of me in my mind, something would get hold of me, and I could be easily distracted and feel agitated as memories of my lost love reconstructed themselves in their circumstances .

That sense of loss and void would become so unbearable that it would become despair moreover, unable to think or do anything else I lie around moping and staring at the ceiling.

Pierre and I had asked of each other nothing and beyond that, he did little to procure some sort of comfort or happiness. We told each other we were killing time and waited.

In action, incoherent speeches despotic peculiarities continued back and forth and the set system prevailing forever. Days and months passed, incessant vicissitudes of sentiments,

of constructing and again undoing sensations, tumultuous feelings of joy, hopes, wishes that were never to be realized. And while narcissism and detachment persisted in my life, more then ever I saw Gwen’s eyes of deep blue sea sparkle more and more. Her overall complexion radiate and play more in my interest and insanity , the need of want of love and dedication that I would have wanted for myself.. I thought I ought to assume some responsibility in my relationship with Pierre and made an effort to plunge with Pierre in his hobbies and interests. Pierre greatest strength I upheld was his ability to seduce you, for the rest I cannot explain as to why I felt such apathy. Perhaps because Pierre scarcely felt the need to speak to converse the whole time denying me that which I kept wanting and that is an open communication. In shock so feigned far gone in this intoxication that for the rest I just felt bored and melancholic. I was prey to the sort of exaltation Pierre provoked, desperately abandoning and losing myself to voluptuous throbs that it became impossible to move to other stages and achieve other realities. .

We existed in my cubic space and under the sheets beyond those walls a void lay inhabited and thought I did attempt to fill by showing more interest in Pierre’s life

we could not seem to trust each other enough to give more.

Looking back on that time I think it was nevertheless a time of intense vision with Pierre yielding to other significant discoveries I should say even beyond common experience though ironically as it is always in life fallibility I was limited and incapable of appreciating them in their fullest. I kept reproaching and punishing myself with guilt thinking, I had no right to be happy when I had acted so badly towards Amadeus.

I pretended to endure endlessly those rhapsodies concerning the beauties of geniuses and graciously followed Pierre around to art lectures art galleries , auction sales,, hardly thought about it all I let him take me my hand drag me around and attempt to eradicate the difficulties. Through his turbulences and dissatisfactions I thought was a will to continue with more enthusiasm and commitment that we had started so loosely. I let Pierre take me with him, hiding my irritation, obliged to listen to stories of painters, to learn how to put a composition together, what should be judged proper of certain attitudes and colors, how each picture should be contrived together, at what distance we ourselves should stand from the action. Moreover, I learned so much about the Fascist Era the Futurist and Boccioni. So much, I learned about this period and Boccioni because for Pierre he was the artist that counted. Boccioni Pierre said felt the life within better then life itself. Boccioni’s tendency of physical transcends, through these lines of forms of which by intuition one would measure continuity in al thoughts and all senses, this is how you felt Boccioni within, though imprinted linearity, severe tonalities profound fracturing you understood the artist and his age. To bound Pierre to me , to have him taken a serious interest in me turn our thoughts more virtuous , pure multilinear charms of colors , our sound more lied analogical sensations in illusionist space, our bodies instant variety and independent endlessness of spatial situations I would show interest and more. If my feeling sprang from mixture of tenderness and confusion, Pierre seemed happier more animated and less grouchy. He seemed lifted now that I was willing to go out with him even showing certain superiority and seemed to involve himself more for a time. Pierre though in essence remaining isolated seemed to abandon some pride and give himself to more social pleasures, as we seemed to get involved much more into his work. .

His habits changed shortly however. Though he had become closer and affable, Pierre was yearning for a fulfillment that deludes the infinite ache and the thirst for a comfortable life, a powerful force and motive them for him to step forward in his world seemed to prevail and his intentions seemed to have become quite impressive . While thirst kept urging him to directions and visions I did not see, I kept silent and even though I did not understand a thing about that what he found to the be occupation he wanted to devote his life I accompanied his to art galleries, auctioneers walking around incredibly loud crowded rooms. Long hours which I was kept waiting in large rooms containing portraits and pictures and other art works. Pierre hardly ever sold anything, hardly survived on the money he made from selling his paintings and in that matter he began to weigh me down financially and burdensome and exhausting chores , questioning me to spy for him and come to learn some of the consuetude of rivals and enemies. They were critical times he would say, impossible times, if I did not stand by him and be of support, if friends, your friends wouldn’t stand by you who would?”

‘Friendship goes and loses itself when business stands in the way. When one is young all is fine, one is carefree when is young and just things about playing but when one is grown up is a different story, materialism comes before the sentiments. Friendship, true friendship is obvious when you become an adult! Moreover, every week he would report that people did not buy nowadays that we were living difficult and hard times that even when you sold something, people wanted it practically for free, that one need to take people by the collar to have them dish out some money. Then he would sell that painting for less because the balance of the painting was not quite right or he hated painting like woman and whenever he got special orders to paint compositions of fruits and flowers, or rising sunset he would turn them down. Pierre did not believe it though so many people had told him that there seemed to exist a kinship between him and nature and fields and woodlands foliages were just breathtaking. His numerous painted canvases of fieldstones and trellis and peonies, iris colored in freedom and freshness were truly sensational but Pierre was never happy and satisfied with that. He wanted to study perspective he said. perspective was what it was all about. People indulged to inferior pleasures he retained because they are either the only ones that they have access to the only ones which they are capable of enjoying.

“We are meant to be original and we end up copies” one would hear him often complain.

The time came when he did not complain anymore and more Pierre clung to my apron, every week with newness as to how he could keep himself entertained. One week he had taken to playing ping-pong, another week he would try tennis and soon became tired of anything he tried. Nevertheless, that too he insisted implied a necessity to break in and frequent a favorable society, people of intellectual taste because for Pierre they were the only ones that counted and were capable of enjoying and appreciating superior pleasures. He spent so much more time mingling with people of nobler feelings that he never had any more time to paint if ever even he sold something he was not taking pains to get money they owned him unless he was in extreme need. Eventually he stopped painting altogether, out of need he took up some freelance assignments as a window dresser or interior decorated but he felt he was wasting away and felt very depressed.

I was always opposed to keeping any sorts of weapons in the house and yet Pierre against my wishes bought a gun, arch, and arrows and played target shooting in my room endlessly. All vague and divergent nuisances on which my eyes rested made me skeptical and was again distracted me from Pierre

Chapter 25

The moon in the sky was like a section of a triangle delicately peeking trough and Pierre sitting on the bed was watching the stars and talking about love. He had kept a secret.

and he was now telling me his story. It was not merely uttered to me rather he was crying in derision when he was telling it that I was taken aback. While there was in him, fury and rage I sat in silence not wanting to interrupt, I sat in silence midst fear, anger affection and jelousy.

“It’s almost difficult to imagine a morning after, from the looks of that silver ball staring down at us from up there.” He concluded

I can never rid of my impressions of him, the effect he produced and imprinted in me but the intensity in which he told his story the vivid memory as it had just happened yesterday the absence of light in his eyes and all that he was telling me about her displayed a most troublesome anxiety. Pierre believed love to be the greatest of evils and misfortunes. The anguish in his face and exclamation point told me that he had spent all this time crying and being in pain about her:

“Oh by my God was she ever beautiful. God she was the most beautiful thing I ever held in my life… Love oh yes…Laugh if you must… love is it the most powerful thing there is. People have gone mad for love Nathalie! People have gone mad for love. There are people standing in looney bin in this present moment because of love!”

And I saw that he was becoming intensely mad that his love for this woman had become a kind of madness that caused all other passions to appear furies of childhood.

I had wanted to die before him though trying to provide some kind of comfort and while listening to some other account of their affair. I found as I looked down at Pierre’s tremulous body in my arms; we were placed caught in complexity.

While he sat drizzling like he been dripping for days I thought in resentment how my own state has been a sleepy happiness, how this new spin of Pierre was wrapping around me like and explosive blast like a disgrace and shame. How could it be that we who made love everywhere, on the bed, in the kitchen in the bathroom on the roof were not sure what it was and scarcely speak of it instead? Moreover, what was the matter with me, he, Amadeus, she? When we are ready to resurface, we think it over. How I had expected Pierre to try ,on and on to engage himself to express himself the way I had hoped .Now he was crying in night air with the desire of another person inside of him like a nut shell:

“I will kill her one day. I’ll kill her one day then I shall rest…. Then I shall laugh at death in the face.”

Cheers, I thought I did no longer know whether he was for real. While he was seducing me into a death dance, I thought the world was his But what I had build him up to be while he was destroying every sweet emotions I ever felt. Later, after he had dropped down from exhaution I leaned down quietly to see whether he was sleeping but he had a frightened look to him as he were growing smaller and smaller and did the thing I could barely stand , cry again, and I tried to guide him and counsel him. I reminded him that his girlfriend of the past was a responsible adult and even though she was the one to break the relationship, she had the right to make right decision for both their future. However, Pierre never understood this line of reasoning. she had given him everything, her virginity on her 16th birthday as a gift to him, what was the purpose of all that then? he told me.

I did not speak I was not sure I could . Perhaps I was even disgusted little boys were still taking in the room trophies I thought to myself ,whatever, I imagined a civilization of men.

Time went by, time goes by finds us together, not knowing why, in any case it is certain that in our thoughts in our minds and if ideas where allowed to travel clear they would reveal with great regret all those ugly thoughts we hide from ourselves the ones that absolutely no one else can like about ourselves. I was getting used in avoiding thinking about a future. The tedium of our relationship with a new installed inquietude that prevented me from complaining when everything was wrong and when I myself needed it the most. His crisis was long and endless. The sooner he realized he had taken me in his confidence the more he resented me for it. I tried to endure through those times. I wanted to stay calm and continue at my task and for a long time I was even touched by his whole tale. Moreover, things had changed now; I had a rival if one could call it that. I would never come first in his life she would always be a shadow between us. There were all these things I wanted to talk to him so many arguments to be treated so much that needed discussing, his leaving me around for long period of time, the cold shoulder the communication that after that night had stopped. There were insomniac nights where I burdened with so many things of my mind would not rest. Sometimes I think I should have been able to do something to react to Pierre shake me out of it , instead I was drowning with him , thought my attitude appeared positive I couldn’t bounce back and felt angry for having fallen in love with him, . Sometimes Pierre was glad to have had confided in me and crouched to me he would cry. Cries that would move my soul to torment so much was he absorbed in her that it incapacitate him from doing anything else. His capacities were enormous and of the noblest feelings, he was of a sensitivity that drew him away from things and people, even good occupations and infinitely he reminded me of it. The hardest thing to do was to be firm with him, had it been different I would have felt myself equipped to guide him, control his outbursts. Instead he never changed, his accusations changed, if at first refinement mattered, encouraged more ornaments and decoration suggesting more taste in the way I dressed and carried myself

I was finally not her. She knew things differently. She knew acquisition of feminity was an essence not a part of social process. Womanliness was ideologically in her

His were powerful and irrational sentiments springing from his being, his want of her expressed no ethical standard , no form foundation of social feelings and accepted general behavior , no laws to rule him that might be acceptable by the norm.

Things needed to be opulent of the best quality or he would angry. moreover, every effort I made was put down and rejected. Even my touching him at times caused him to halt me or turn away and I could scarcely remember his ordinary smile on my face and heart.

Another season of clouds with Pierre of warm rhapsodies and empty moments, Pierre was so unpredictable and never knew whether I would be seeing him at all.. He would show up at his liking and then I would lie in his arms for the desire of life was

going, my passion for him was not . I loved him when he cuddled in my arms and inspite of himself draw my face in his and lay his head in my arms for hours. At times when I tried to make conversation and say something, he became furious and cruel and just scared me silly:

“Say something” I would look in his face, after struggling though long interlude of silences.

“Omblos” he would reply or some other nullity of the sort sitting back on the pillow in

usual sensual savage smile.

“Let’s talk! We can talk! You would not be here with me if you did not want to. If you did not feel anything for me:

“: Cala. ‘(Drop it)’” he reply dropping his shoulders

“It could be different. It would be different if you opened up to people. Talk to someone perhaps professionally. You could try to be happy again.

“Tell me what one must do in order to gain this happiness!”

“We could out more socialize See people again. Make friends. Make an effort and especially talk more. Listen. You can do it. You can get over her. You can be happy again. You can find it again in other person that joy of living, through others, people and interests you can find it again the will to live to be happy again. You can fall in love again!”

“Cala” he would then quickly jump out of bed, sigh shake his head and tell me cynicism how I was the stupidest person he had ever met.

“I can’t listen to any more of your nonsense. Stop romanticizing and get it through your head that is all you are ever going to get and no more. Any notion you might have about the two of us you best forget it. This is all! And, another thing you are not up to date with things Romanticism died at least one hundred years. ago!”

He had muttered everything quickly, rushing got dressed, in a hurry he was out the door, and thus I was forgotten and put aside in a wink of eye.

I insisted many other times and told him that what he was doing did not make sense.

“Who the hell are you that I should make sense to you? What is sanity anyway?”

What is sanity? What is sanity if not the fact that a majority of people share certain ideas or feelings to prove the validity that these beliefs are true? Sanity is defining and imparting a certain vision transmitting good values maintaining relationships affirm one’s presence into the social sphere. When at some point you break ties with the structural fit

stop reacting to the world the people around you are reeling to the edge of vision to your own wave length towards the end into a psychiatric domain and psychotic state.

I had continued to cope with Pierre’s “folie” sharing with him his many errors as truth.

Always insisted that listening to me others would make him realize that his attitude was damaging to himself, others, and his career as well. Being more cooperative, I believed being creative and fostering creativity in our world though our world as a fact was of rapidly increasing chaos but to be receptive is necessary in terms of joining in the dance developing talent and assuring success and increasing leadership in all aspects of life. However, Pierre turned sharply towards me and looking straight at me stopped me dead:

“What do you say?”

“Nothing, I’m just trying…” I said thinking I shouldn’t put myself through this

“That’s enough out of you. Damn it. This is ridiculous. But what did I expect from you?” and in anger punched the door then he gave it another strong push walked to the stairs and through the doorway outside.

Chapter 26

“What an instrument is the human voice. How wonderfully responsive to every emotion of the soul.” Proust wrote and that is how the desire was fulfilled when astonished I was listening to Amadeus quickening on the phone:

“Nathalie, Nathalie”. He had wanted to wish me a Happy Easter. What wonderful fuzz! What wonderful fuzz! We filled our conversation with trivialities talked about our work. I was extraordinarily happy to hear from him. He had always been on my mind especially during the holidays and thinking that Easter as a festive holiday meant very little. Yes, it was certain that his absence at this time was felt more and the memories of our experience were very much felt especially at this time. There are people I realize that go through life without a blessing, he was the unexpected blessing in my life to what had become a hidden need that only he seems to fill and what could prove it more than that? His voice most somber and profound was always something that moved me. Even stranger, I think of him as if he were the roots from which I sprang out. The most wonderful thing about his call was that it was so unexpected and the sheer beauty of his voice had to power to have my spirits lifted and soars, undoubtedly, I wished myself crouched in his breast and pursuing even further wishes. Amadeus was such good person much better then me. There was so much joy in my heart to hear him tell me that he had wanted to hear my voice again, that he loved me that if I should have to answer for Amadeus and purpose of his life, I would say that he was born for me for my happiness, that he lived to give me breath.

He taught himself to play the pianoforte. At first he played a lighter tune contented to make me smile and beets seemed to fleet effortless into the next then as if stuttering more dramatic dreary tune that seem to be gushing out in zesty attacks expressing anger and grief, and fiercer and piercing rhythms to articulate feeling of pain tragic sensitivities

and rare bursts of mixing reprises of explosions of major outbreaks that rather then draw me was halting me and causing me to feel incredibly sad. As a flood of tears were now falling down my cheek and feeling a particular kinship to the music that I was sure he had chosen especially to render a certain mood. I was sure that he was playing our song. I so deeply felt his soul in his musically committed performance that I felt consummated psychologically raped mentally and was immensely sad. I almost wished he would stop playing but he seemed so technically proficient and artistically assured that he could actually liven up to a more cheerful phase and did indeed won me over all over again. Then realized I might be just taking on one of the best specialties ever created for a woman.

“It would have been too beautiful Amadeus. It would have been poetry.’’

“Please Nathalie don’t say it! This is poetry.”

And that was the last we spoke, Amadeus dropped the receiver leaving me alone for always to graze alone thereafter, piece together the fragments of our love but perhaps also ending a particularly poignant and sorrowful relationship

.

.

Chapter 27

Fay’s old yet warm rural home is a blend of past and contemporary ambience, the authentic detailed design of gable roof styled exterior. She was busy preparing the bruschetta while the guests sat around in the open and laid out rustic living room, a frame of lavished lumber wood bathed in light from the roof gazing on top and left windows. The room includes firm pillars and pole supports of weigh sawn and fit beams to complete and channel the living room into a further wood wall and hallway. The wood was left natural expect for practical application and bookcases whose volumes appeared well kept and extensively read. The books cases the wonderfully diverse piles of armoires and dining room this house especially was without question the perfect setting for our type of discussion and “We shall refer again to that brilliant gathering” as the Machiavellian guile goes.

Pierre was bored to find himself in what was largely a women’s crowd. I had gone through so much pain to drag him I had told that the meeting might be of particular interest to him for in addition to women’s discussion of social status and deprivation, the lectures dealt with very important female artists and art historians discussing renown figures in the world of the art. In truth, I had hoped that the social interaction might help him and there was the hope that he might come across someone who would take interest in his work and help him along. . He had anticipated mostly women turning out with typical stereo typed questions and arguments of negligence of women or

abuse of women that he did not want to come. I refused to let him have a say on the matter, I convinced him how the contacts of the attendants would create more links and a network for him. Confronted with ignorance of women’s history and art it is difficult to be able to relate this inconsistent pattern and recognition and integration of women in the art world and thus the discussions and examples were long a perhaps even tedious

Discussions and emphasis of life of women and artists and exposed indulging assumptions, heated debates of women’s entries in Academies, concentrated assaults on women’s artists by male authorities, throughout a struggle to gain access to institutions. Women obliged to gain status quo then obliged to form a status quo and the list went on forever. . More discussions followed to exposed prejudices, all delivered with enthusiasm and temperance but that failed to keep Pierre interested. Finally, we had all agreed that women do have a history of art, but a different tone from the accepted norm, because of their particular relation to official structures of male dominated ways of art production and because they have been compelled to act within from a place other then occupied by men. Pierre was scandalized by it all he thought that women were actually trying to cover up for their shortcoming and looking for excuses that they simply refused to admit that generally speaking most women are ungifted and untalented and incapable of doing art and as he grew more restless and unreceptive to our discussion he picked up and left.

For myself, this was the life I involved myself more these days and that also gave me great comfort or else I think I would have gone out of my mind . I stayed behind and waited until everybody left to help Fay tidy up to the wee small hours. In fact after the party had broken up and cleaned up we were still up marinating and storing her homemade vegetable salads for the winter months ahead. My friend was amazing really! With her heavy schedule, she found time to do some gardening and make preservatives it is for this reason that I should mention what a good influence she was she was on me how much I learned from her. This sense of feeling life with enthusiasm if nothing more gave a sense of direction.

Physically and mentally, however I was going through a terrible time. I let myself go and had put some weight and Pierre had often commented on it but I was hardly thinking about taking better care of myself with all that I was going through.

This thing I hardly thought the worst, the disappointment after the excitement left me without strength. While I adapted with Pierre the attitude and just let him be, let him come and go at his pleasure, let him find the will for himself to struggle through his painful and torturous experience, I felt helpless now that I couldn’t do anything for him. I couldn’t sleep at night watching Pierre become more and more inconsistent and dysfunctional watch him destroy himself because of her and go through fits of rage with him. All this I could not help to tell it to Fay, Pierre was at his worst and he would not stop torturing me and would not stop to destroy everything that I was trying to build for us. He did not want me to fall in love with him I told Fay in tears, and more he robbed the will to try, more he took away the joy of lovemaking and embraces and caresses. Till now I had always seen myself stronger then he, till the last time we made love when he had so uninterested as if it were doing a solitaire that I now just lay there in his arms uncooperative and motionless. Unresponsive just let him ejaculate on my belly while he was wiping his seed with a towel he was following me with his eyes while I could not seem to move, as if suddenly all the strength was leaving me that I suddenly started to cry uncontrollably:

“No way, no way” Pierre suddenly began to shout

“No way in hell, I’m going though this trip with you. Do you hear me Nathalie , no way in hell. You will have to snap out of it yourself. You will have to come out of it alone. Nathalie I’m just not going down with you”

I was not sure what he was talking about but he made no effort to comfort me, attenuate my anxiety, stop my sobs and calm me down, I was thoroughly upset, feeling that things were slipping me by, that things were getting right out of hand beyond my control and I could do anything to help myself or help him. I had smoked a joined and drank some before hand and perhaps the reason as to why I passed out but by then Pierre had left and when I came to I was found myself alone and disoriented I told Fay. I could not cope anymore with the situation; I could not sleep anymore and could not help crying about to her as I kept thinning down her celery on her L shaped counter.

“I don’t know Nathalie, really, some people’s meat are others persons’ poison” she offered

“: For heaven’s sake it’s over, don’t tear each other apart. Do not hurt each. Get on with your own lives. Let him be! Get on with your life!”

To let him be I thought pensively. However, could I always cope with the situation allow things go on and on as if nothing were wrong? Pierre did every thing he pleased and knowing that he could never be mine I never hoped for anything more.

Now I was desperate because I knew he would never be mine. Somebody else owned his soul and he would never allow himself to love again. . I bitched and cried over him to her, I followed her around her house while she was busy with her chores even into the bathroom and sat through her luxurious perfumed bath thankful for the opportunity to talk to someone about what was going on with me. Fay told me that I should learn to try to build some kind of emotional defense and especially where Pierre was concerned.

“You are courageous Nathalie,” she told me.

“You are very courageous Nathalie. Not to many people women would put up such a fight with a man like Pierre and you are a good person since you can love him without being angry or blame him. She suggested I do more reading on women’s literature and women’s psyche.

“It’s amazing what women discover about themselves and what they put themselves through what they do in the name of what they call love. I think it’s masochism what you are doing to yourself and I’m hoping you will see it in time.”

“I love him; I can’t help myself from loving him. I feel I ought to love him<”

“My souer, ma semblable, comme jet e comprends!” She teased taking my face into her hands and kissing my lips.

I could not read. I could not read anything however; I could not concentrate on anything.

One does not die from love, but one can feel shitty. Sometimes I tried to read and everything I picked up reminded me Amadeus , he seemed to turn up everywhere in the written word everywhere in print there seem to be reminders and traces of Amadeus but at this point I felt it too strange to tell Fay all this stuff and all at one time .

To be a woman! To be a real woman! What does it take to be a real woman? Amadeus was had scolded me and told me to be woman. What did it mean anyway? Pierre thought I was a whore. And he thought Fay was a whore too. He thought all women were whores. And I thought I still did not like Gloria Steinem. I had other ideas, different from Fay. I wanted Pierre! I wanted to love Pierre well. I wanted the man I loved to love me

And not worry about feminism. I wanted Pierre. I wanted him so bad, I wanted Pierre who could not love again to fall in love with me.

I thought Margaret Atwood didn’t write much about relationship I had the feeling that men and women blended naturally for her, like bread and butter , fish and lemon coffee and milk as if there were never any tension between them.

Maybe I didn’t love well enough. Either I love to death or I am loved to death. And there’s no right combination, there no order in the way things happened. What if I had met Amadeus first and there would have been no Pierre for instance? But Pierre happened too. There was no ordering events for that matter there was no order in women’ history of art either.

Simone de Beauvoir is difficult to find in bookstores, sometimes she is filed under D

Sometimes she is filed under B. The Second Sex was one of the best books I ever read .There is no point in being second in anything that is for sure. I know I came second in Pierre life if that. I thought Simone was vicious in any case and I would have different from her that the Marquis did Sade rot in hell.

How I despised myself. I hate my voice. I hate my footsteps, my hands, my clothes, my thoughts. It is all so ridiculous and infuriating!

“The great question that has never been answered and which I have not been able to answer despite my 30 years of research into the feminine soul is ‘what does a woman want?’ I read in Freud and because I could not sleep, read on that night. Interesting I thought that Freud himself had a real problem with that question. I skipped through a lot of pages and paid even less attention to Kant’s philosophy, for thought I understood him to be an lover of nature and consequently women by natural association I did not follow his discourses well and went on to read about the Oedipus complex.”

“Whereas in boys the Oedipus complex is destroyed by the castration complex in girls it is made possible and led up to by castration (1925). This castration inhabits and limits masculinity and encourages femininity... the basic equation is that penis equals child for the same purpose of getting a child, she now takes her father as a love object and the mother becomes the object of her jealousy. She turns to her father but this attraction to him is secondary to her to obtain a baby from him”

And thought what I read was not knew to me , conversations with Fay, instances links to masochism and women, women’s inferior consciences, all of it made me thoughtful

Conventions too I think must govern the way in which we express ourselves and images too becomes a stimulus that we learn to respond to them in a certain way and thought perhaps that is how the majority of people reacted to Freud believing he know absolutely all and infallible. I thought that even he had pronounced some significant issues for the most part he was essentially a male chauvinist and indeed did not understand much about women, and suddenly all things everything was sounding extremely repulsive.

Even Amadeus the purest image I held of a human being began to fall and suddenly he was not as nice. And my father too was less understanding than I thought him to be and furthermore if Freud was right about other things Amadeus was a complotting bustard.

I put the book down and could not find any usefulness in science given that it continually seeks to adjust its theories to structurally fit the facts. I was angry with myself, and no,

Freud was not going to provide me with the key to understanding Pierre better, nor Amadeus for that matter, instead this Folie a trios required first and foremost that I remain of sound mind and therefore bear full responsibility for my action .

Chapter 28

They were rare moments when trembling I hastened to Pierre for succor thought I clearly always saw his ideas and always knew that I was the least of his problems or worries In the sunlit room this realization seemed even more clear is yet I still kept and created a value to him that override others. His interests in my problems however once again were scarce that it left me with all freedom to keep close to the facts. He himself seemed to be waiting and paving the way for the inevitable. I drifted back behind him and tagged behind with due detachment until we got home. Once in my house there he started paving from room to room slightly irritated. I remember that day when he decided to break it off, he wore a carefully tailored pleated and fashionable pair of pants with a crew neck double-jacketed knit patterned sweater and he also wore his overcoat, he looked nice.

I never much like to be told, not like that, without any warning without being prepared without Fay giving me a warning . Without a chance to reply, what should I think about people and how cruel they could be?

There wasn’t any sign or trace of guilt or uneasiness when he told me about the two of them and that it was over between us he seemed to have had planned all too careful and as to deny my temper to grow sour. He seemed relieved to have gotten everything off his chest. He had finally gotten to where he wanted to be , everything he wanted now was there for him, things that he cared about were beginning to materialize themselves and there was no place or plan for me in his designs. The hardest task to find is the perfect model for the good. I thought Pierre was the man I wanted but though I bestowed Pierre with all the love I was capable of giving he could not love me and I could not let him go without feeling I was not desperate, and hurt. I remembered Fay, she had been hurt, she had been fond of Pierre and now she was not going to turn him down, it was my turn to grieve now. We would still be friends she would give me her friendship, so much friendship. This game, this drama that now quickened Pierre actions increasing his self-confidence and power, in his glance I could see the marvelous pleasure he showed in the

telling that he would not have missed the opportunity that Fay had presented his for the world. He had about him and ephemeral glory when he was turning away from me and continuing to smile he explained how his work and interest now came inevitably in her sphere. Fay could introduce him into society better, she had an established position she was a potentate one does not wish to avoid if they wish to enter into certain relations..

There was zeal hope in his glance, as if he were still stunned himself unable to grasp what was happening to him as he if bewildered that everything was suddenly falling on his lap and things were going to happen for him.

I stayed silent. I need not myself be afraid to watch his dreams materialize.

……

Two weeks later, I collapsed and found myself in a hospital. Not really understanding what I was doing I had overdosed. Three days later, I was discharged. The memories are fuzzy. I remember spending a lot of time in the courtyard smoking with other patients and remember a garden and a stairway leading up to my room. On the day I was let go some ladies came by to say goodbye and to wish me well and asked me to remember what they had told me earlier. Fay came to pay me a visit at home and she too told it all to me with ingenious calm and all complementary detail of their trip to Montreal together, their brilliant gatherings, personalities, notions of exhibitions and tribute and ways of how she would affirm Pierre a successful artist. Her lists now made up of events as she had scheduled them and was now putting them in front of me.

Several days passed and Pierre came by. He stood in my kitchen jerking his neck smiling in oddly and pitiful manner and desperately wanting to be elsewhere.

“Are you going to screw her?”

Instead of taking a definite shape his smile now steeped in slight gravity

“You don’t want me to?”

“No Pierre I don’t want you to!”

“But you always said you wanted me to be happy!”

“Not with Fay. She’s my friend.”

“Well she’s my friend too now.”

“She wouldn’t she always thought you a case.”

“She already has!” he snapped.

“In any case Nathalie. I have made up my mind. I just wanted you to know.”

“I don’t believe you. You are lying! She wouldn’t!”

“Yeah! We are going out tonight again. She accepted my dinner invitation. I told her I wanted to talk to her about you but I think she is slightly hoping for more. Regardless,

It is time we quit this two of us. It is time we quit for good. I have been feeling like I have been making love to a corpse lately. I do not know. Maybe you should get back with your Italian boyfriend.” he told me simply.

I walked with him to door and stopped to get a better look of him. I think his face showed the least of regret, I kept moving with him down the stairs and frantically blurted:

“Please don’t leave me”

He stepped back beside me and without seeming bothered, returned:

“Why should you mind? Did I not tell you not to fall in love with me? I’m removed from such trivialities you know!”

Intimacy never comes easy for anyone with Pierre I could clearly see it was a direct path to loss I desperately had wanted Pierre to love me but he himself was unreliable and emotionally withdrawn. It is not fair after all I thought to ask of Pierre was he was incapable of giving me, to demand what he could not give me. Accustomed always to receive little from Pierre, reflecting on the difficulties of our relationship; though still feeling resentful I too wanted to put all of this behind me. I did not put up much of fight and honestly thought better to let go of all the shit. Our relationship had been a disaster from the beginning and in the hospital, I had been philosophizing about life a great deal more. It had always seemed a pure waste of time before. thought when I thought about it is rather hard to learn that goodness and opinions without knowledge are rather ugly.

Chapter 29

It happens that wherever I go now I produce boredom, rejection, and disinterest. I wanted creative love its martyred love instead torturing life out of me. I also have a singular way of looking at things now then everyone else, without knowing much about this new life without knowing my own strength. Things and objects fade and I do not know where I am when absent from myself. From a round ball, someone climbs down to steal my thoughts and take me to other dimensions. Still life then is particularly remarkable and treating me daringly and distinctively. In space staring unblinking a man sensually texted a man in conversation in aerial space and graduation of light and shade and a sound whether coming from the air or from the earth sound to give me delight

Speaks to me and repeats to what he has said to me many times before:

“To hear your voice is for me always reason of profound emotion and immeasurable joy.

It was a useless and tedious day this one obsessive and long to pass, then your voice have reached me and it has become a smiling and happy one. This is the most extraordinary love story that has ever touched a man and a woman…”

“I’m scared. Amadeus, I’m scared”!

Moreover, the music plays on. My cheeks feel heave and people whose appearance white and solid as marble call out my name as my soul shudders with every sound. Angry I see myself running trying to catch up to Amadeus:

“Please don’t run. Where are we going? How far do we need to run? “I ask.

“As far as we can,” he answers then I collapse and watch him run am aware of the loss.

Dr. Euridipus asks me if I hear voices.

Instead of answering him, I ask:

“Amadeus are you a voice? What should I tell him?”

“Tell him you see ghosts!”

Amadeus I thought should have been taking care of me I found no hope in hearing him and seeing his as a ghost and was now literally afraid that I had moved beyond a certain point. Memories and hallucinations continued in confusion in exaggeration and still act upon me inspire of me. Nonetheless, my greatest pleasures are to, savor, and blend memories and fantasies of Amadeus. I dream above all and my dreams behind my eyelids prepare my eyes to be dazzled amid radiant sun and sound of music. Amadeus and I are running free on green and huge meadows between rows of oak trees that pattern the loom though leaves scattered in a bright gold blanket underneath the sky.