Read Online Born Twice (Vintage International) by Giuseppe Pontiggia - Free Book Online
Authors: Giuseppe Pontiggia
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assertion, it’s a threat.
“And if the helmsman makes a mistake,” he says testily, “he’s not the only one who’ll sink. You’ll go down too.”
“I see,” I reply, even though I don’t really understand where this boat’s going.
“Do you understand what I’m saying?” he asks.
“Yes, but what exactly are you alluding to?”
“I’m alluding to us!” he says. “To your problem! Which has now become my own. Because I’ve chosen to take it on board.”
“And I’m very grateful to you, I told you.”
“Oh, yes, grateful,” he murmurs, as if the adjective weren’t enough. “You know how things happen in schools. I have to interpret the laws,” he says, thumping his chest. “I have to do things that I don’t have the right to do,” he says, repeating the gesture.
“What exactly are you talking about?” I ask. A shiver runs through me.
“Limiting the number of students in the class! Otherwise Signorina Bauer will refuse to have a handicapped student in her classroom.” He pauses, then adds, “I just don’t know if I’ll be able to manage it. I’m really not sure I can.”
“Now, hold on just a minute,” I say, and in my mind I’m thinking, The bastard! “You can’t tell me this now!”
“Why not?” He raises his voice in indignation. “I am!”
“No. According to the law, you have to limit the number of students in the class.” I try to speak calmly, but I feel my voice fading with the increasing anguish. “There’s a law and you know it.”
“Ultimately, it’s up to the principal to interpret things on a case-by-case basis. I’m not sure that the administration will let me limit the size of the class.”
It’s getting hard for me to breathe.
“It’s happened before and I didn’t give up!” he adds, with malign triumph in his voice.
“Now listen carefully to me,” I say, moving my chair closer to the desk. I’m trying to speak slowly but I realize I’m panting. “A handicapped student has the right to a smaller class size. I’ve done the research.”
“Obviously not enough,” he insists.
“If you don’t limit the number of students so that it’s acceptable to Signorina Bauer,” I say, pointing my finger at him, my voice getting stronger, “just wait and see what will happen!”
I glare at him, seething with enmity.
“What are you trying to say?”
“Your school will be on the front pages of all the newspapers for not respecting the new laws. It’ll be a scandal!”
In order to save an unreal situation and salvage what I can, I said “school,” not him. He notices and is grateful for it, I can tell.
“Newspapers?” he asks. “You have clout with the newspapers?”
“My father-in-law! He’d do that for my son—and more!”
The mere thought of my father-in-law makes his face light up.
“Now don’t get so worked up,” he says slowly, looking at me. “I was just making you aware of a possible problem. We’re here to help each other, right?”
“Right,” I say. There’s nothing more I can say.
“You see, your father-in-law can make things happen. I’m sure of it. In this case as in publishing. That’s why I chose to speak to you about my poems.”
I have no strength left.
“You know, it really is vital to think about how one faces things. Suddenly, what was impossible is now possible. It’s that way for my poems too, you’ll see,” he concludes.
I listen to him, drained, my legs weak with the prolonged tension. I can’t put my child’s future on the line for threats like these. In Italy one is never entirely sure of the law. There’s always the risk that one will be overpowered by some higher authority.
“I’ll see what I can do,” I mumble, getting to my feet. The meeting is over. “But I can’t promise anything. It doesn’t depend on me.”
“No,” he replies, “it really does depend on you.”
He stands up too, fiercely and vigorously, extending his stiff leg in my direction. He comes around
“And if the helmsman makes a mistake,” he says testily, “he’s not the only one who’ll sink. You’ll go down too.”
“I see,” I reply, even though I don’t really understand where this boat’s going.
“Do you understand what I’m saying?” he asks.
“Yes, but what exactly are you alluding to?”
“I’m alluding to us!” he says. “To your problem! Which has now become my own. Because I’ve chosen to take it on board.”
“And I’m very grateful to you, I told you.”
“Oh, yes, grateful,” he murmurs, as if the adjective weren’t enough. “You know how things happen in schools. I have to interpret the laws,” he says, thumping his chest. “I have to do things that I don’t have the right to do,” he says, repeating the gesture.
“What exactly are you talking about?” I ask. A shiver runs through me.
“Limiting the number of students in the class! Otherwise Signorina Bauer will refuse to have a handicapped student in her classroom.” He pauses, then adds, “I just don’t know if I’ll be able to manage it. I’m really not sure I can.”
“Now, hold on just a minute,” I say, and in my mind I’m thinking, The bastard! “You can’t tell me this now!”
“Why not?” He raises his voice in indignation. “I am!”
“No. According to the law, you have to limit the number of students in the class.” I try to speak calmly, but I feel my voice fading with the increasing anguish. “There’s a law and you know it.”
“Ultimately, it’s up to the principal to interpret things on a case-by-case basis. I’m not sure that the administration will let me limit the size of the class.”
It’s getting hard for me to breathe.
“It’s happened before and I didn’t give up!” he adds, with malign triumph in his voice.
“Now listen carefully to me,” I say, moving my chair closer to the desk. I’m trying to speak slowly but I realize I’m panting. “A handicapped student has the right to a smaller class size. I’ve done the research.”
“Obviously not enough,” he insists.
“If you don’t limit the number of students so that it’s acceptable to Signorina Bauer,” I say, pointing my finger at him, my voice getting stronger, “just wait and see what will happen!”
I glare at him, seething with enmity.
“What are you trying to say?”
“Your school will be on the front pages of all the newspapers for not respecting the new laws. It’ll be a scandal!”
In order to save an unreal situation and salvage what I can, I said “school,” not him. He notices and is grateful for it, I can tell.
“Newspapers?” he asks. “You have clout with the newspapers?”
“My father-in-law! He’d do that for my son—and more!”
The mere thought of my father-in-law makes his face light up.
“Now don’t get so worked up,” he says slowly, looking at me. “I was just making you aware of a possible problem. We’re here to help each other, right?”
“Right,” I say. There’s nothing more I can say.
“You see, your father-in-law can make things happen. I’m sure of it. In this case as in publishing. That’s why I chose to speak to you about my poems.”
I have no strength left.
“You know, it really is vital to think about how one faces things. Suddenly, what was impossible is now possible. It’s that way for my poems too, you’ll see,” he concludes.
I listen to him, drained, my legs weak with the prolonged tension. I can’t put my child’s future on the line for threats like these. In Italy one is never entirely sure of the law. There’s always the risk that one will be overpowered by some higher authority.
“I’ll see what I can do,” I mumble, getting to my feet. The meeting is over. “But I can’t promise anything. It doesn’t depend on me.”
“No,” he replies, “it really does depend on you.”
He stands up too, fiercely and vigorously, extending his stiff leg in my direction. He comes around
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