Love Will Tear You Apart by Giulia Ottaviano

Author:Giulia Ottaviano
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: RCS Libri/Rizzoli
Published: 2013-12-15T00:00:00+00:00

15

Daniele had made an appointment with Giampiero Fulci, the director of the Internal Revenue Agency, at eleven thirty on Saturday morning. He left the house at around ten. He wore a light-beige trench coat and carried a black leather document case in his hand.

He decided to walk there.

His left leg was still hurting from the football match against Pietro a few weeks ago. A strained muscle. He knew he was out of practice but not to the point that he’d have to abandon the match after a move that in his head had been perfect, infallible, decisive, but that in the reality of the pitch had been very clumsily done.

In the sultry air, he went down Via Farini, past the cemetery and through Chinatown. He limped along awkwardly, and by the time he hit Corso Sempione, almost an hour had gone by. The air was growing increasingly stuffy. It was eighty-six, maybe hotter. He sheltered in the shade of some trees to wait for the number 29. They were green poplars and were apparently healthy, but a layer of little dry leaves crunched under his feet like crisps.

The tram arrived a few minutes later.

He got on and sat down on one of the uncomfortable wooden benches, shiny with varnish. He got off at the Arco della Pace.

Walking toward one of the bars in the area, he removed his jacket. He hoped that in the five minutes before his meeting the sweat patches on his back, which now traced a dark blue silhouette on his pale blue shirt, would have dried.

He relaxed for a few minutes, leafed through the newspapers provided for the customers, downed a little bottle of water in one mouthful, and paid.

Dottor Fulci had asked to meet him at the Deseo, a little bar identical to the one he’d just been sitting in. In that part of the city they were all the same. Minimalist décor. Black. Gray. White. A few eccentric touches (an old teardrop chandelier, red armchairs like little thrones at the entrance to the toilets).

He asked the waitress, dressed head to toe in black, if Giampiero Fulci had arrived. She was the same waitress who’d served him God knew how many beers and vodka lemonades in the evenings while he tried it on with whichever blonde he happened to be out with that evening: large earrings, tight jeans.

Fulci hadn’t arrived.

Daniele sat outside, under the large white umbrellas.

He wasn’t keen on the area, especially at night: he found the clientele a bit tacky, a bit ignorant. Yet he came here often with his colleagues—it was a good place to score. He’d often turn up on his orange Vespa Special, order a beer, and drink it perched on the saddle. It never failed: some girl always came up to him.

He watched the passersby, sporty people heading for the park, a handful of Russian tourists, a few girls dolled up for brunch with friends. Fifteen years ago there’d been nothing but drug addicts and dealers under the Napoleonic arch.

Download

Copyright Disclaimer:
This site does not store any files on its server. We only index and link to content provided by other sites. Please contact the content providers to delete copyright contents if any and email us, we'll remove relevant links or contents immediately.