Chapter 39 Michael
Michael
Luckily, she kisses me, because I barely manage to contain myself. Why did I do it? Because I want Elisa to decide. I don’t want her to feel seduced; I’m willing to give her power. Sure, I teased her, but I left it up to her.
In my head, there’s no Sheila, no Danielle. It may be easy to get into my pants but not into my head, not there.
“You’re not exactly a pushover, you know,” I murmur, as I move my lips from her mouth to that part of her neck just behind her ear, where I breathe in her perfume that drives me crazy.
“I love watching you conquer every inch of me.”
“Don’t think I always do this. Only if it’s worth it.”
“Is that so?”
“If you want, I’ll show you how we can shake this hut to the ground,” I say, lying down on the plank beneath me.
“Am I supposed to believe you like me like this? With this antisex apron from Premiata Salumeria Pianigiani?”
“You couldn’t be sexier in a lace thong.” I untie the knot behind her back and immediately start unbuttoning her jeans. “But maybe we should take it off anyway . . .”
“We could be arrested for indecent exposure,” she sighs, reaching under my hands to stop me.
“They’ll finally have something to talk about in Belvedere.”
The way she runs her fingers through my hair drives me crazy, the way she wraps her legs around my hips, her muffled moans in my mouth, the way she searches for me with her whole body.
“Do you want us to stop?” I ask her, feeling my point of no return dangerously approaching.
“Yes . . . no . . .” she replies, confused, her lips still searching for mine.
“Yes or no?”
“Maybe . . . I don’t know . . . two more minutes.”
I can last two minutes thinking about some very boring things: documentaries on armadillos, car servicing, London tube stops . . .
“Is there someone going at it in that old hut?!” a young male voice exclaims from afar. “Get a hotel!”
A thin female voice giggles.
“Maybe we should stop,” says Elisa, breathless.
The two silhouettes, which are holding hands, move away in the direction of the swings, so Elisa and I take the chance to recompose ourselves.
“Do you think it’s a bad sign that we always get interrupted?” she asks me.
“I really hope not, but it’s for the best. I don’t think I would have given the greatest performance in this setting.”
“Who was that?” she asks me, buttoning her blouse.
“Did you see?”
“No, but judging by how they’re kissing on the swings, it seems we’ve inspired them.”
We’re about to leave our cave of sins, when Elisa freezes. “That’s Linda!” she says, elbowing me in the gut.
“Linda?”
“Yes, my daughter!”
“Are you sure?”
“That’s the top my sister got her. I restrained myself earlier, but it’s time to put an end to this.”
She’s ready to sprint over, but I grab her by the waist of her jeans.
“She’ll know her mother was the one getting it on in a public park.”
“And my lecture will have no credibility since I made a fool of myself and my daughter would feel entitled to do the same?”
“I’m not exactly a psychologist, but yeah, sounds about right.”
“So what should I do?”
“Nothing,” I reply.
“Nothing?” she asks, astonished. “I should just let my daughter be seduced by that cheap Casanova?”
“I know him.”
“You know him?”
“Yeah. You know Linda and I have been speaking English for an hour every day, right? Well, he joined us last week. He’s a good guy, all things considered.
He has a good head on his shoulders, the attention span of a steamed sea bass, and an unmistakable Tuscan accent.
He keeps his lips pressed together to hide his braces, and when he laughs, he hides his mouth with his hand, because even though he acts tough, he’s insecure to the core—except that girls don’t know this and they go crazy for fake tough guys,” I explain, hoping to reassure her. “He’s harmless.”
“Harmless? He doesn’t seem like it to me.”
“It’s just a first kiss. Your daughter will write it in her diary with a little heart around the date, and in two weeks it’ll be a thing of the past.”
“First of all, today’s teenagers don’t keep diaries, and second, you’re wrong. After first kisses come first pets, after first pets come first times, and after the first few times you get pregnant like I did.”
“Aside from the fact that that seems like a slightly apocalyptic scenario, I really don’t think Linda will get pregnant. And she’s too smart for that.”
“Hey, are you calling me stupid by any chance?”
“Not stupid but maybe naive. And Linda’s not naive—she’s sharp as a razor blade. Trust her; she’s your daughter!”
“I do trust her; it’s him I don’t trust.”
“He doesn’t even know how to find his dick in his underwear.”
“Maybe you’re right,” she grumbles, biting her lip. “I’m catastrophizing.”
“You’re catastrophizing.”
“Maybe we should leave. What do you think, Michael?”
“Quickly and quietly,” I agree. “Anyway, call me crazy, but I’m happy our first time wasn’t wasted on a public park.”
“Did you really say ‘wasted’?”
“Yes, it would have been a waste,” I confirm.
“And what do you have in mind?”
“Something better. Something special.” I give her one last kiss before leaving our refuge. “Can you give me a week?”
“I don’t know if I can wait that long.”
“It will be worth it, I promise,” I reassure her.
“You’re not very good at making promises.”
“This time, trust me.”
She pulls her hair back as I tuck my shirt into my pants, and together we emerge from our hiding place.
A thump followed by a dull ache and a wave of dizziness knocks me to the ground, bringing Elisa with me.
“Christ, what a blow!” I say, touching my head.
“Are you okay?” Elisa leans over me, worried. “What happened?”
“I hit my head on the roof. I hope I don’t have a head injury.”
“Should I call an ambulance?”
“No, no, ask me a question and see if I can answer you.”
“Okay.” She starts waving her hand in front of my eyes.
“How many fingers?”
“Five.”
She looks at me with panic in her eyes. “Oh, my God! Michael, there are four.”
“No, there are five,” I reply confidently.
“One, two, three, four,” she insists, touching her index, middle, ring finger, and little finger. “Four.”
“Yeah, but they didn’t cut off your thumb, I can see it folded there.”
“The bent thumb doesn’t count; it’s four.”
“Then turn your hand around so I can’t see it. Are you Italians always so careless?”
“Are you English always so particular? You don’t have any cranial trauma, I can assure you. Let’s go get some ice; otherwise, you’ll have a big bump tomorrow morning.”
Two figures appear behind Elisa, who is still leaning over me. “Michael? Mom? What were you doing in the hut?!”