couldnât help my irritation. I made a mental note to upbraid him, even if it meant ruining the tryst that Iâd yearned for and planned with such meticulous care. I have never been able to stand it when other people waste my time. Especially when it comes to sex. Absolutely unacceptable. The time that belongs to lovers is always stolen from lives built on other affections, passions, and routines. Structures that are at once exceedingly complex and yet so delicate that a clandestine affair can destroy them merely by announcing its existence.
I know a lot about this sort of thing. Thatâs why I have caged my love for Guido, cordoned it off with a series of strict rules governing behavior and security. Foolproof. Because this is true love, and for that reason it deserves to live on in secret in our hearts. And yet, at the same time, we can hardly afford to lay waste our official lives. Guido has been engaged to Enrica forever and he loves her deeply. He never pretended for even an instant that I, his mistress, could hope to be the sole and single recipient of his love. Guido loves us in two completely different ways, but nothing on earth could persuade him to leave Enrica.
I, on the other hand, fell out of love with my husband a long time ago, but thatâs just the luck of the draw in married life. Ugo is a mediocre man in terms of human qualities, but heâs a genius at business. I only realized that after the birth of Ilaria, too late to retrace my steps and give up a quiet, comfortable life in the midst of Massagno, just outside of Lugano.
Ilaria resembled her father more and more as she grew up, but at least she had the delicacy to pretend she cared about the feelings of others, especially those of her mother. Duty and decency require that she not ignore me entirely.
I canât say that Iâve been unhappy all my life. I was born and raised in a setting where relations between people arenât necessarily governed by feeling. The important thing is to maintain a state of harmony based on a healthy hypocrisy and intelligently calibrated lies. I assure you that the quality of life remains intact all the same. Money is an extraordinary resource when it comes to ensuring that everything is reasonably pleasant. Iâve never believed in the fairy tale of the wealthy young woman who abandons her family to live happily ever after with a woodsman or a worker on the assembly line. In boarding school, we used to tell those stories as if they were hilarious jokes, and none of the girls laughed harder than I did.
Believe me, itâs no easy matter to be wealthy while keeping your emotions at bay. It takes an inner discipline that springs from steely daily practice, because at times youâre tempted to believe that money is powerful enough to allow you to operate outside the bounds of social mores and customs. And thatâs a fatal error, one that can lead you to lose everything. When I say everything, I mean money.
I was certain that I was safe from all temptation until the day I met Guido. Iâd boarded a train in Bologna and he was sitting in the seat across from me. We were both going to Venice. I had an appointment with an art dealer who wanted me to purchase several portraits from the 1930s. Guido, on the other hand, was going to the university to deliver a lecture. Heâs an assistant professor, an expert on literature. Iâd pulled a novel out of my bag and, suddenly, he took it gently from my hands, begging my forgiveness and hastening to explain that he didnât want to bother me, but that he felt duty-bound to explain the reasons why he felt I should immediately stop reading that book.
At first I was almost put out by his intrusion, but then Iâd never met a man like him before and I was immediately intrigued. A refined intellectual, with the exquisite manners of the nineteenth century, amiable and ironic. A good man. Harmless. Which men so rarely are.
It was an
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