Read Online The Silence of the Wave by Gianrico Carofiglio - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Gianrico Carofiglio
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that?”
“I looked a bit strange, didn’t I?”
“Actually, you did.”
Roberto shrugged.
“I’m just coming out of a very difficult period of my life. There was an earthquake and now I’m dealing with the aftershocks.”
The old man looked at him with an expression of aroused curiosity and nodded as if he had understood, but maybe—Roberto thought—he was only trying to be kind.
“Well, I have to go. Congratulations on the dog, he’s very beautiful.”
“If I were your age I’d try not to waste time. We never get back a single minute that we waste. Good luck.”
Roberto said good-bye and the man left, the dog walking perfectly in step with him, like a soldier happyto follow orders. Roberto had the impulse to go after the man, stop him, and ask him to explain what he could do so as not to waste a single minute. Of course he didn’t. He stood there watching the man walk away, thinking that, like most of the people he had met in his life, he would never see him again.
* * *
He arrived at a quarter to five. He went into the bar opposite the doctor’s office and ordered a juice, keeping his eye on the building. He had just come out and was crossing the road when the front door opened.
“It seems we have a date,” she said smiling at him.
Roberto responded to the smile, while thinking, with a vague sense of panic, that he did not know what to say.
“It seems we do.”
“It occurs to me we haven’t even introduced ourselves. My name’s Emma.”
Roberto held out his hand, and told her his name.
“I already know your name. Maybe I shouldn’t have, but I had a look at some of your videos. From what I gather, you’re very good.”
He spoke quickly, as if fearing he wouldn’t be able to say everything he wanted. She did not seem either touched by the compliment or annoyed by the intrusion.
“At my best, I
was
good. I mean, I wasn’t bad, but that’s my old life. I don’t act anymore.”
Roberto managed to hold back the question. Whatwas she doing now? Better not to ask questions when you don’t know what they might lead to. A lawyer friend had told him that once. It was a rule of trial procedure, but it was obviously valid in many other cases.
“I saw that you also acted in the theater.”
She seemed thrown, as if the subject made her feel uncomfortable, or at least was completely unexpected.
“Do they have those things there as well? I mean, can you actually find those videos on the Internet? I never use it, just sometimes for e-mail.”
“I saw that you acted in Shakespeare,” Roberto insisted, but as soon as he had finished the sentence he felt awkward and stupid. He had spoken in the confident tone of someone who goes to the theater and knows all about Shakespeare.
The only times he’d ever set foot in a theater in his whole life was when he’d been to a few concerts—apart from once, to arrest a couple of prop men who supplemented their income by dealing cocaine in theatrical circles. That was the one occasion he’d actually seen a play. If his memory served him correctly, it was by Pirandello and, while he was there in the darkness, something in the dialogue had struck him.
“Do you like the theater?”
Here it came.
“To tell the truth, I haven’t seen much. But yes, the little I have seen I liked. I like Pirandello.” There, he’d said it. Now she would ask him what he liked byPirandello, he wouldn’t be able to reply, he would look really stupid, and she would realize what a slob he was.
“I was once in
As You Desire Me
,” she said. “We toured Italy with it.” From the faraway look in her eyes it was obvious it was something she had long forgotten that had suddenly come back into her mind.
Roberto nodded his head slightly, with the expression of someone who is perfectly familiar with what is being talked about. He hoped intensely that she would change the subject, and swore that this evening he would go on Wikipedia and find out all about Shakespeare,
“I looked a bit strange, didn’t I?”
“Actually, you did.”
Roberto shrugged.
“I’m just coming out of a very difficult period of my life. There was an earthquake and now I’m dealing with the aftershocks.”
The old man looked at him with an expression of aroused curiosity and nodded as if he had understood, but maybe—Roberto thought—he was only trying to be kind.
“Well, I have to go. Congratulations on the dog, he’s very beautiful.”
“If I were your age I’d try not to waste time. We never get back a single minute that we waste. Good luck.”
Roberto said good-bye and the man left, the dog walking perfectly in step with him, like a soldier happyto follow orders. Roberto had the impulse to go after the man, stop him, and ask him to explain what he could do so as not to waste a single minute. Of course he didn’t. He stood there watching the man walk away, thinking that, like most of the people he had met in his life, he would never see him again.
* * *
He arrived at a quarter to five. He went into the bar opposite the doctor’s office and ordered a juice, keeping his eye on the building. He had just come out and was crossing the road when the front door opened.
“It seems we have a date,” she said smiling at him.
Roberto responded to the smile, while thinking, with a vague sense of panic, that he did not know what to say.
“It seems we do.”
“It occurs to me we haven’t even introduced ourselves. My name’s Emma.”
Roberto held out his hand, and told her his name.
“I already know your name. Maybe I shouldn’t have, but I had a look at some of your videos. From what I gather, you’re very good.”
He spoke quickly, as if fearing he wouldn’t be able to say everything he wanted. She did not seem either touched by the compliment or annoyed by the intrusion.
“At my best, I
was
good. I mean, I wasn’t bad, but that’s my old life. I don’t act anymore.”
Roberto managed to hold back the question. Whatwas she doing now? Better not to ask questions when you don’t know what they might lead to. A lawyer friend had told him that once. It was a rule of trial procedure, but it was obviously valid in many other cases.
“I saw that you also acted in the theater.”
She seemed thrown, as if the subject made her feel uncomfortable, or at least was completely unexpected.
“Do they have those things there as well? I mean, can you actually find those videos on the Internet? I never use it, just sometimes for e-mail.”
“I saw that you acted in Shakespeare,” Roberto insisted, but as soon as he had finished the sentence he felt awkward and stupid. He had spoken in the confident tone of someone who goes to the theater and knows all about Shakespeare.
The only times he’d ever set foot in a theater in his whole life was when he’d been to a few concerts—apart from once, to arrest a couple of prop men who supplemented their income by dealing cocaine in theatrical circles. That was the one occasion he’d actually seen a play. If his memory served him correctly, it was by Pirandello and, while he was there in the darkness, something in the dialogue had struck him.
“Do you like the theater?”
Here it came.
“To tell the truth, I haven’t seen much. But yes, the little I have seen I liked. I like Pirandello.” There, he’d said it. Now she would ask him what he liked byPirandello, he wouldn’t be able to reply, he would look really stupid, and she would realize what a slob he was.
“I was once in
As You Desire Me
,” she said. “We toured Italy with it.” From the faraway look in her eyes it was obvious it was something she had long forgotten that had suddenly come back into her mind.
Roberto nodded his head slightly, with the expression of someone who is perfectly familiar with what is being talked about. He hoped intensely that she would change the subject, and swore that this evening he would go on Wikipedia and find out all about Shakespeare,
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