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Emiliana and Stephen
August 15th, late afternoon
The trolley bus pulled up along busy hissing and sparking in the trolley. He flung open the doors between puffs of smelly tires overheated, stale perfume mixed with sweat. Emiliana came down through the crowd to stop the Piazza San Lazzaro. She had struggled against depression dawn, forced himself to get out, stay in the company, it was still August. She was leafing through the phone book browsing the few names of acquaintances, but she was certain that none of them had remained in the city. She also found the phone number of Stephen, he was perhaps the only reasons to stay at home, even to the store. Stephen had met years earlier at the public library. Followed the same course of studies on local finds from the Palaeolithic to the Villanovan culture, preserved in the Archaeological Museum. They were frequented, the summer also invited to the Fair and was amused. She liked the way you do Stephen. He was polite, courteous, curious, cultivated many interests. Maybe something would be born among them. He wanted to go beyond simple friendship, but she resisted. She sensed something is not clear, not fluid in him. Ambiguous, yes, there was something ambiguous. Sometimes the dark side of his personality put them anxiety. They lost sight of. Of course he was in the store, and she could not take any more than talk to him. I wonder if they will pretend not to know. That figure would make her. It was not the type to go after men. Maybe he would have received with kindness. To this he thought as he moved to the side of City Hall, between the bell tower and the porch, in the flow of people between stalls set up. A few steps and reached the store. Suddenly he saw the disaster. Pieces of glass everywhere, among the shelves turned inside out, upside down between the trays, including fresh pasta and mayonnaise on the floor. Two stray cats in a corner, behind the door, vied for a slice of salami, between puffs and verses. Inside, Stefano busy to rearrange food remains turned. Emiliana had no trouble in recognizing him, had not changed. "Stephen, what a disaster, that what happened to you?" Even Stephen recognized her, and his eyes softened. "Emiliana, what a surprise, as ever in these parts? " He spoke in spurts, but in a tone of affection. "What happened" "... An accident with the car ..." "He hit right in the window, who was?" Emiliana asked. Stephen was silent. She leaned against the counter. "Emiliana, I find you in shape!" He nodded and put a smile in the corner of the bin. She confined two rebel brown tufts behind the ears. Do not pick up the compliment. "Do not be evasive." Trombley relaxed on the modulation persuasive. In the end, needed to vent to someone. Maybe it was better to do with her that had nothing to do all its reality. Then it was time for that secret came out from his lips. He said, grabbing the remote. "I was guilty of this disaster," Her eyes widened in disbelief. "Did you feel bad?" Could not read more than the fact that in terms of health and disease. "No, it happened to me as I parked the car in front of the store." She invites him to continue with a blink of an eye. "I saw it and I thought you know what, you delete it and rid of the nightmare" Instinctively, she took his hand in hers and squeezed it hard. Also with words of hatred in her mouth, which she perceived him as a frail, angry child, but not brutal man.
"That man, I was still a kid, he lent attention in the back of the store." He dropped his hand and motioned to the back room. He had no intention of telling her in detail. He would tell of when the individual sent his father to deliver a large quantity of hams and with the excuse of waiting for the store to pay the bill, he had approached.
With her, he could not get down in the gory details. She was too reserved, too polite. He still remembered when he took advantage of the dancing in the square, he had close to him. He had taken her by the hips and tried to kiss her on the mouth. All hell broke loose, had stiffened, seemed to embrace a piece of iron. He wiped the sweat that fell from the sides of the bases. Shooting. "From that day on, my life has changed, I have not told anyone, not even to my parents," "Why do not you just say to your father?"
" I was ashamed, I felt guilty; when I was trying to silence the shame and tried to talk to my dad, he was never willing to listen to me, he was always busy, always had the biggest problems of my; his needs are always come before mine, life is spent well, he died without knowing anything." Stephen ran a hand over his face flushed and rubbed his eye. "This afternoon I wanted to end this story, I could see only his wicked grin that I winked" He paused, his temples throbbed. "I had her image before my eyes, I hit the" Now he realized that he had been lucky. Now he understood that nothing would restore his teenage years, that the death of a man is not repaid him. He envied the sweetness of Emilia. She had the good fortune of faith. From the square to the store, echoing the words and music, going to and fro, swinging to the rhythm of ballroom dancing. The crowd thronged in front of the store also Trombley, was ready to watch the show . Emiliana found in himself the strength of the spirit of Mary. "Hey Stephen, the past is behind us, we can never return; all we have to encourage ourselves: look forward, give the best of ourselves, have mercy; all of you are wrong, we are human, we are dominated by passions, pain, desires, do not always have good feelings; believe me , I've had time to reflect on what life and death will take us all to the end and this should not make us want to hurt the other, but their joy; we must give the best of ourselves for the good of all." Stephen remembered not so reflective. He remembered her as a girl devoted to merriment, to a certain moderate -heartedness, a certain irony wise. The recognized only in one thing, that when he started with the sermon, it was better to escape. He did not have at that time, because she had exhausted the emotional and action was coming to an end. "Now I'll help you clean up the shop and then we go to dinner; I remember that polenta with sausage gravy and it was delicious, the cook again?" "Of course, with my sausage, I am the supplier!" His accent Emilia had the smell of sausages. The square thickened. They realized now that the curious passers-by turned round to look at the disaster and them. They lowered the gate from the inside.