The Ball

«Very funny, Brando. All in all, do you think that Marisa’s nickname is working out because we both think that the lady is really a... slut?»

«In my opinion, she is. It’s a fact: that’s why the reference works out.»

I hear Tamara talking with Domenica and, peeking at my smartphone that displays 5:57pm, I take it that she is saying goodbye to her before leaving the office.

«Brando, maybe just the two of us think this way.»

«Certainly, notary, it could be. What do you think?»

«I think the same as you, Brando. But what is that supposed to mean?»

«Phew» I snort. «Anyway, the last time Marisa was here, didn’t she forget her horrible pen, the pink one? Well, she even rang the office to make sure to keep it here “because it is mine and next week I will drop in to collect it“?»

«Yes, Brando. I found it in the deed of sales room. As a matter of fact, if she hadn’t called, I am sure that I would have disposed of it immediately, because you just can’t keep it something like that in your pen holder: I have given it to Tamara, I think it is still there.»

«Yes, it is still there, you just can’t miss it. Would you like to sit a test, notary?»

«Maybe there something up with you, Brando. Anyway, let’s give the test a go.»

«We must wait for a few minutes, I think. Tell me in the meantime, why do you want to miss the French night at the Bistrot?»

«I don’t want to miss it, really. It is just that it is the fourth edition since the beginning of the year: it’s all nice and funny but then it ends with me sitting at the table on my own because my wife is busy entertaining the clients who come in and out, she must stand behind the counter or look after the cash register.»

«I see» I say staring at the table. «Talking about your wife: I just got another example.»

«Excuse me, I am off» Tamara interrupts from the doorstep of the office. «Good evening to everyone.»

«Excuse me, Tamara» I stop her, «has the slut dropped in to collect her horrible pen?»

«No, not even today, it must be two months since her last visit here. She probably thinks that it is not so beautiful in the end. Why, can I throw it out?»

«No, Tamara» the notary answers. «We were talking about it because we did not remember where it had ended up. Hold on to that, she will drop in sooner or later. Have a nice evening.»

«Bye Tamara.»

«Goodbye notary. See you, Brando. Enjoy your evening.» She walks off tapping her heels down the corridor.

«Test is over, don’t you think? Not even a hint of surprise, a stir nor eyebrows raising, no hesitation whatsoever: immediate connection. I also would like to point out that Tamara is a woman, in case you think it is relevant.»

«Yes, you can’t argue with this reasoning. So, in conclusion, is Marisa seen by everyone as what that word suggests?»

«I would think so. People won’t be surprised to hear this definition.»

⁎⁎⁎⁎⁎⁎⁎

The notary does not reply.

He does not reply and stares at the screen.

«Good» I just say, a little puzzled. «So, we can state that the discussion is over? What were we supposed to discuss after Augusto Pardoli’s two confidential meetings with you, was just a debate regarding how the world perceives that lady who is not so young now, she has an eye-catching appearance, she is a bit common and of easy virtue?»

The notary is still quiet.

«If that was it, we could have talked about it immediately, without deferring it so many times: I kept on trying to postpone the conversation because I thought that there was some strange deed to bring up.»

Still staring at the screen...

«I meant» trying to batten down the hatches, in fear that I had offended him, «I didn’t do it on purpose, maybe I didn’t explain it properly. I meant to say that the concurrence of all these events which forced us to postpone this discussion, was not that bad after all. We just had to postpone a discussion, albeit rightful and of a certain semantic importance, about something that was not so relevant for our jobs at the office.»

Nothing: gazing, pursed lips and relaxed face. He was gazing blankly more than staring at something.

«As a matter of fact, lexical semantics is fascinating; I didn’t know you were into discipline. I have never examined it in depth but if you need me to, just to have someone to discuss the issue with you, I can do some research. I know very well how frustrating it is to find someone you can share your opinions with over something you are passionate about.»

«Brando, have you finished with your ranting and raving?» the notary bursts out laughing.

I smile too.

«Do you think that there are courses on lexical semantics?»

«Of course, there are similar courses all over the place, especially evening courses» I grin.

The notary turns serious looking again. «Fine, enough with this nonsense: the trouble that has arisen is that the husband of the slut... Marisa’s husband I meant... wants to reclaim all the donations made to the wife’s name.»

«That’s where the trouble was. Each donation? Does he want to reclaim everything and leave his wife on the street? Did they fight and want to split up?»

«Something like that. I’ll sum it up for you: you do remember the shoe shop that the lady had opened» he looks at me and I nod. «Mr Pardoli says that it is rumoured that she has encounters with the customers of the shop there.»

«Behind the shop window?»

«No, not behind the shop window» the notary replies sarcastically. «I understood that the encounters are in the fitting rooms.»

«Excellent! It makes sense. If she doesn’t mind whether it is a woman or a man, I understand why this characteristic was relevant in the recap of the situation.»

«Indeed» the notary sighs. «I took the liberty to ask if the encounters were arranged outside the shop or inside it: to try and understand if it was a fee-paying business or something like that. However, Augusto told me that according to what he heard about his wife, she literally jumps on the customers: almost on anyone, man or woman, especially if they are young.»

«I see» I say deep in my thoughts. «Do you actually believe in Augusto’s story?»

«I am not too sure. His version of the story sounds true and I would not have any reason to doubt Mr Pardoli’s good faith. Moreover, according to Augusto, this is not just happening in the shop but also in the city or in other small towns. He described his wife as a nympho with a very strong sexual drive for whoever, no matter if they are male or female.»

«Excuse me» I say, struck by a sudden doubt. «Why would a shoe shop have a fitting room? I have not physically gone to a shop in a while but I do not remember many shoe shops equipped with fitting rooms.»

«I don’t have a clue, as far as I am concerned, some of them may have them, or maybe these shops used to be clothing stores. I don’t think it is relevant, anyway Brando» Alessandro replies abruptly.

«As a matter of fact, it is not so relevant. I was just picturing the lady attacking a customer who is trying on a pair of sandals in the fitting room.»

«Fine, Brando: you can stop all your picturing» the notary replies sarcastically. «In any case, the trouble for us is how to get out of this situation: how can we convince Mr Pardoli that reclaiming these donations is not that easy after all?»

«Right, it’s a big problem. Excuse me, just one thing before looking into this issue from a regulatory point of view: has the husband ever used the word slut in telling the story?»

«Ten times at least.»

«Right: it all makes sense now.»

«Great, Brando. Let’s get to the point.»

«Right» I sigh. «The request for reclaiming can be forwarded for serious harm towards the donor, right?»

«Yes, she did not try to kill him, she did not sue him without good reason and I don’t think she gave false testimony against him.»

«Alessandro that should be the direction to take: you should suggest obloquy and a judicial request, stating that his reputation has been harmed and ridiculed on account of his wife’s careless behaviours. Something like that...» I stop for a few minutes. «A lot of work for a good lawyer who wants to have a good time.»

«Yes, Brando, I feel the same as you. By advising him to go to another lawyer, we would stop the issue immediately and we could lose interest in the situation.»

«This solution would not be bad at all» I say looking at the notary’s puzzled expression in his face. «So then?»

«It may be true: dos est uxoria lites. But I don’t know» he says hesitantly, «what if the husband went a little overboard with his story? If the wife seemed to be this way, but in fact she behaved as a faithful and loving partner? What if she is just seen in the wrong way? The husband may see her as being too open with friendships, but it could just be a wrong impression.»

«Of course, notary, it could be. Shall we go back to the semantics or to other similar studies? What has all of this got to do with being a notary? Wouldn’t a lawyer, family counselling or a friend be more suitable to solve such a situation?»

«Wouldn’t be even better if Mr and Mrs Pardoli would live in harmony and loved each other like spouses should do? Wouldn’t the two halves be stuck to one another, like two magnets, making up a euphonic ball?»

I look at him with my eyes almost wide open, and I fall silent for ten seconds.

«The euphonic ball, of course» I grumble. «A harmonious sphere. In my opinion, we are slipping towards disciplines which are off-limits and in this area I just would not know how to learn something about it in order to hold a conversation with you» I say it with an almost ordinary tone of voice. «I am not that good when it comes to love relationships, I don’t have a clue: I need a full immersion course or even to have some hands-on practice for a few years.»

«You may be right, Brando: it is not my area» he says.

«Not even: it is not part of the notary’s job.»

«Well, you could try to mediate and convince the spouses, in mutual agreement, to reclaim only a part of the donations. Only one house and a few thousand euros, just to get the situation going, but I don’t know if that would make sense at all.»

«Yes, to find some sort of middle ground» the notary replies.

He stares at me with a melancholic and pensive look while I keep quiet for quite a few seconds.

«Look» I say arching my back and bringing my neck almost at knee level, «if you come here, with your head under the table, and you look at the door, the table has only two legs.»

1.3 IMPULSE - TWO

A few people are scattered around the bar, there are mostly couples sitting one opposite the other at the outdoor tables, along the big stained-glass window which delimit the building.

Since when it was renovated a few years ago, the bar at the corner has got a Scandinavian air, as if it has been teleported from Östermalm quarter to the heart of Brescia Due.

The whole place is painted in dark green: the inside, the counter, the wooden floor with wide slats. The black wooden tables are arranged at a fair distance among themselves; the chairs are made with the same material and are lacquered with bright and mixed colours: red, orange, green and blue. In the middle of the bar, some plants which are similar to small palm trees divide up the hall from the back room, overlooking the street.

The notary has dragged me here to kill some time while waiting for the Provençal night and now is walking ahead of me. I follow him past the plants and we sit at the table in the back, in the corner between the two stained-glass windows that delimit the bar.

«What shall we have, Brando?»

«I don’t know...»

«All this waiting has made me feel hungry and has given me cravings for drinking» he replies, looking at me. «Most of all, I want to have a drink.»

«Good evening, gentlemen, good evening notary. What can I get you?» the waiter asks. He is a nice boy, wearing an apron with black and white stripes and a name tag.

«Good evening Gigi, can we have two Franciacorta wine?» the notary asks.

«Sure, right away. Which one do you prefer?» Alessandro looks at me to find out what I prefer.

«Something like a brut, or less sugary, rosé wine would do» I suggest looking at the notary in search of approval.

«Fine, two brut rosé Franciacorta wine: I’ll check inside what we have. What would you like to have it with? Can I bring you our platter of seasonal aperitifs?»

«Sure, Gigi, that would be great» the notary replies.

«Brilliant, I’ll be right back, gentlemen» he says going off.

Five girls come from the hall behind me and sit at the table beside ours. They must be in their 20s and are all dolled up as if they are in their late racy teens; two of them are compulsively typing on their smartphones, the others are talking loudly.

I turn to the other side, and I look outside the stained- glass window: I can see a middle-aged couple walking all wrapped up in two long and grey coats; the notary is sitting opposite me and he is carelessly looking at them.

I turn to the left again.

«So, did you recover from the discussion about lexical semantics? You looked rather pensive.»

«I was just thinking about the situation between the spouses. I told you anyhow that it is forbidden to talk about issue during our aperitif.»

«Okay, you are quite right» I grin.

«And thank you for being here with me, at the bar, waiting for the Bistrot.»

«Not at all: I am quite pleased. Talking about other clients then: I was just thinking today, while I was checking the share transfer on behalf of Anyauto...»

«Yes, Brando? What were you thinking?»

«I take it that the two funny guys did some work on your car; I mean, not on your Ferrari California, but on your old Porsche. Have I got it right?»

«Sure, Antonio and Ermes. My Porsche...» he says still looking at the street.

«I can mind my business, if you wish.»

«No, Brando, this is a valid question. There are no secrets.» It looks as if the notary is taking a few minutes to think it over. «The Ferrari California is beautiful, isn’t it? Do you like it, Brando?»

«Yes, sure: it is a Ferrari. Everybody likes it. I am not mad about the colour...»

«What’s wrong with the colour?»

«It’s red: Ferrari red. For me cars are only black and I just make a distinction between pastel black, metallic black and matt black.»

«Should I have got a black one?»

«I don’t know, notary. Usually, Ferrari cars are red. I would say that many experts would not tolerate a different colour. I don’t know the specific environment: there could be Ferrari enthusiasts that go around with Ferrari cars with the strangest colours.»

«In my opinion, a red Ferrari is a bit ordinary.»

«Ordinary... in your elitist bracket is very common, I think for sure.»

«That’s right» the notary replies. «I think that 95% of Ferrari cars sold are red.»

«Excuse me, but are you telling me that you don’t like the colour of your car?»

«It’s not just a matter of colour, it is just the car that I bloody hate!»

«You bloody hate it?» I ask, puzzled.

«Yes, I fucking hate it.»

«You fucking hate it?» I ask more and more puzzled.

«Here is your platter, gentlemen. I’ll leave it here for you» the waiter interrupts placing the wooden board in the middle of the table. «And your Franciacorta wine.»

«Thank you» we reply almost at the same time.

The waiter turns around and goes over to the table of the girls beside us, who keep on talking with their shrill voices.

The notary drinks some wine, puts the glass down and grabs a sliver of parmesan cheese. «Yes. I fucking hate it.»

«Right, I got it right then. I did not think you would harbour a grudge towards your car. How long have you been feeling that way towards it?»

«Since the first day I went to collect it at the car dealer.»

«Why, where did you buy it? You didn’t order it from the car factory? I thought that was the case for Ferrari cars.»

«I think this is the case for new cars. She was about four months when I bought it.»

«Anyway, if you chose it, it means that you liked it a bit.»

The notary drinks another sip of wine. «No, actually I have never thought of buying a Ferrari car in my life and it was the only one left in that car showroom where I went following the advice of one of my friends because I needed a car ready for delivery. There were a few Porsche cars and one Nissan GT-R: that was wonderful, orange with black rims.»

«Yes, magnificent» I reply looking at him. «Sorry, notary, and then? Why did you go for the Ferrari?»

«I needed to replace the other one quickly; then I was there with my wife, you know how these things go.»

«No, not really. Ultimately, did your wife prefer the Ferrari?»

«Of course, she said that it would have been more suitable for my age and that I did not have the right age to have an orange car, it was not appropriate for a serious professional.»

«I see. Nissan GT-R cars forever: as a matter of fact, I agree with your choice.»

The notary gulps down his glass of wine, looks at me and smiles.

«Actually, with your non-choice» I grin.

I empty my glass too. «Actually, I asked about your old Porsche» I try to say again. «It didn’t look that old to me: it was so cool in my opinion.»

«The same for me, the only thing was that she had a troublesome differential gear and secondly my Porsche was to be replaced, costing me a few thousand euros. They told me that she could have broken down any minute causing damage to I don’t know how many components: she was making a loud noise, quite low, that could be heard from outside.»

«Now the matter is clearer to me.»

«Why? I didn’t know you had a great interest in my car fleet.»

«I was just curious. You know that I love cars, so I was a little worried for your old 911, completely black, which I liked very much.»

The notary stops the waiter who is hanging around the girls’ table and asks for two more glasses of wine.

«I have always liked it myself» then he says, «do you like it even if it is metallic black and not matt like your car?».

«Matt black is quite a recent obsession: the shiny varnish on your 911 looks definitely beautiful too.»

«Brando, do you think that your fuchsia car mirrors make your car look serious?»

«Serious maybe not but the mirrors with a different colour than the upholstery was an optional and I could not resist: I was in two minds whether to go for orange or that one. As a matter of fact, they are a bit tacky.»

«Just a bit» the notary laughs. «At least they stand out from your sombre and gloomy appearance.»

«That’s right. Also, I went in to order it by myself, with no female presence by my side.»

The waiter drops over two new glasses of wine three quarters full and takes the empty ones.

«True, black is a constant with me» I say grabbing the glass. «So, in the end you have held on to the 911 and you don’t use it anymore, for fear that it will self-destruct at any moment?»

«I still use it now and again. I have brought it to several garages, after I got the new one: the two Anyauto partners seemed to be the most reliable, actually they are very good indeed. They advised me to allow them to open it up and in the end they were able to solve the problem by changing just one bearing of the differential gear and the noise went completely. At that point, while I was at it, I followed their advice to put in a new exhaust pipe because the standard one reduces the engine power. And the one that they put it has a sound really...» the notary said, pausing.

«Really what?»

«I wouldn’t know how to express it: really harmonious.»

«Quite a story! Like the euphonic ball?» I ask laughing, while he stares at me with a strange look. «Anyway, I didn’t think that the staff at Anyauto were so cutting-edge» I say quickly.

«Yes, they are really great» the notary says reaching out for his glass. «Somebody told me that they have started to provide a breakdown service in the last few months: they take turns, making themselves available at any time, day or night.»

«They are great» I say. «They keep themselves very busy.»

«Yes, at least they keep themselves going with some ideas» he replies. «They live opposite their garage: they have a barn, where they work, and a two-storey building in front of it, which is a bit neglected, where they both live, each of them with their own families.»

«Great idea, I’d say: home and work close by» I answer staring at the glass in front of me. If they have both of them in the one place, they have less hassle: they avoid being in and out, they save their energy and can allocate time for their pastimes. Such a life would not be bad. It is a shame that for me it is unachievable.

⁎⁎⁎⁎⁎⁎⁎

The voices of the girls are louder and louder; the girl who is sitting at the head of the table, ducklike and half naked like the others, but with almost pleasant plumage, picks up her smartphone, while the others are posing stretching their bodies over the table with their arms straight and holding their glasses.

The notary is monitoring what is happening.

«I wonder whether they are immortalizing a memorable event» he asks.

«Yes, probably they need to keep in their minds the unrepeatable opportunity to drink some liquids in this bar, this very evening.»

«More than anything else, they will record it in the memory of their smartphones, rather than in their minds» the notary says.

«Correct» I reply. «And then they will post this unrepeatable event on the social media too.»

«There are things that I don’t understand anymore: I feel like a stranger in many situations» the notary says. «It is probably down to age.»

I grab an olive. «I don’t think it is a matter of age. Probably I feel already too old, that’s why I feel uneasy like you in these situations.»

«Come on, Brando, were you born in 1979, right?» I nod while I chew on the olive.

«So, you are fourteen years younger than me: it is quite a bit.»

«Yes, half a generation, I’d say.»

«What do those girls look like? Do you find them attractive?» the notary asks.

I take a glance on my left and I examine once more the five diners at the table beside ours, without lingering again on the girl who is sitting at the head of the table, I have already x-rayed her before. They are dressed and made up according to manga cosplayer style: tight-fitting tops, micro-miniskirts, leather shorts, knee-high boots. Pity that they are not at Lucca Comics.

«I don’t know: there’s a fair chance that they look attractive to people their age. Personally, I don’t find them so attractive. If I take into account the tone and the pitch of their voices, I’d say that they are a real pain...» I stop and take a sip of my dry wine. «A bit like your Ferrari.»

The notary smiles, looks again at the table beside ours and take another sip of the wine. «They could be my daughters, but I would feel awful to have given life to those things» he says with some melancholy in his voice.

«If they were your daughters, you would look at them in a different way.» I grab a sliver of parmesan cheese, while the notary is staring at his glass. «Actually, if they were your daughters, I doubt it very much that they would be like that. You know, the genes... At the end of the day, each of us is born with well-defined genes; certainly, the social environment and the world around us do all the rest. I do think though that what you are, that is your own genes, always win over everything.»

«It is all in the genes, is it what you are saying? So those five girls, who I don’t think they are sisters, had a common destiny to inherit a gene for silly photos, shrill voices and tarty clothing?» the notary asks.