Читать книгу The Confessions Of A Concubine - Roberta Mezzabarba - Страница 13

9.

Discoveries

Secrets never uttered

words hidden

behind

candid attitudes

unsavory thoughts.

Long hours

chasing each other

elusive moments

of superficial contact

avid

of unspeakable thoughts.

Forbidden thoughts.

Dry mouth.

The scarlet notebook was meeting my pen more and more often.

Go away

go away from me

go away from my heart

heart beating with emotions

unspeakable memories

Go away

Go away

get far away from my hands

that can no longer reach you

touch you like warm water

like fragrant breeze

at dawn.

Go away from me.

Far away.

So that my eyes

can only glimpse you

indistinct

so that I can

chase you,

gain ground,

and join you,

nearby.

And my meetings with Pietro became more and more frequent.

And every time I was surprised I didn’t feel ashamed of what I was doing: I had gone from platonic to carnal without even realizing it, and as

the meetings multiplied, little by little I also lost the fear that had almost killed me the first time.

I searched for Pietro's gaze with mine, in the hope of discovering that small wink that presaged a new encounter.

I had fallen in love. Irreparably. Without solution.

I had also bought some lace underwear and each time I couldn't wait to show it to Pietro, although

"showing" was a eufemism, because in that squallid basement where we had established the abode of our meetings it was almost dark and even cold, but I did not feel any of this when I was stretched out on the cartons that he had brought downstairs and laid on the ground, overwhelmed by the whirlwind of sensations that Pietro made me feel.

Of course, it was important for me that he paid attention to me even outside of our tête-à-tête, but I was certain that instead it was vital for him to

have carnal contact with me.

He kept telling me that he had never felt what he felt for me, that I was fantastic, wonderful, beautiful, unique.

And each time I came out of it drunk.

And each time he wanted more.

Always more.

"I want to make love to you, I can't resist any longer! When I'm with my wife I think of you, I think I'll go crazy at this rate..."

In his arms everything seemed possible, but thinking back to his requests when I found myself alone, I didn’t feel ready, I didn’t want this last barrier that had remained between us to fall, the last small embankment against a current which was now too violent.

***

I felt a vague sense of guilt towards Filippo

hovering between us, leading me to have sexual impulses that, much more than once I think, had left him surprised if not appalled. To me it seemed that by giving myself to him I could partly silence my feelings of guilt.

One evening after some disinterested sex, done as if by obligation, he turned to me and said:

"You can't have children, you can't make me feel real pleasure... luckily at least you’re able to cook and tidy up the house, otherwise ... "

These were the things that made me realize more and more that I was not remotely willing to give up Pietro.

With my face pressed into the pillow I dreamed of Pietro, and clenched my teeth so as not to cry.

Filippo was never there: absent in moments of joy, and in moments of deep pain.

Absent not for nonsense, of course, for work.

" I serve the people!"

His work as a security guard made him feel a

step above the others.

For me by now it was late, too late to give up, to undo fastened ties, to give up, to do without Pietro.

I started because of pain.

Because of pain in love,

or love of the pain

now I don't know anymore.

I wrote love

and I didn't notice it

until many lines later,

when the pain reclined

tired and afflicted

on the extended palm of my heart.

And I loved.

Without hesitation and reservations,

certain

in the dark,

to find pain again,

only pain.