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“No.” I shake my head, confirming the only word that left my mouth and lean back in the chair.It’s her turn to tilt her head to the side and raise an eyebrow.
“I thought you said you wanted me for dessert... I’m giving you a chance...” Confused. Antonella is really confused.
“No, you’re not! And you know it. You’re kidding me, by the way, I’m starting to wonder if you’ve really stopped doing this at some point…” My fingers go back at tapping at the table as I stare at her, and the silence stretches between us. “There’s no reason I can give you that you don’t already have, Antonella. What would I tell you?That it was never before like it was with you?That I don’t just want to have sex with you?That I want your company, your laughter and your terrible mood in the morning?That I truly believe that the next two years can be much better than this dull game that we’re playing?” I bend my lower lip and shake my head to one side and the other. “You already know all this, and yet you run away… Asking me to repeat it even though I know it won’t change anything is a very bad joke...”
“You’re not being fair to me,” she says softly, struck by my words, and I sigh.
The atmosphere of fun between us has been completely replaced by tension.The one who is already our old friend and another, to whom we had not yet been introduced.She swallows and picks up the glass of water in front of her.Small sips make her throat move slowly.
“Then what about you? Are you being fair to me?” I don’t take my eyes off hers, I don’t give her that escape. “Well... I’m not a man of eloquent speeches or grand gestures, and even so, I keep finding myself again and again in situations where sometimes I’m doing one, sometimes I’m doing another, and in all of them, I’m doing it for you...” She snorts.
“And now you’re rubbing it in my face...”
“No.” I laugh, dry. “I’m talking to you, and you thinking that I’m actually doing anything different just proves my point. You’re always expecting the worst of me, Antonella... Almost wishing, and keeps denying yourself and I something that would be amazing without even having the decency to tell me why the fuck!” She opens her mouth, but I just found out I’m really pissed off and I’m not done yet.
“No means no! I understand that and I don’t question it, but you don’t tell me no, you don’t want to tell me no, you just run away. Again and again, no matter what trail you leave behind, does that sound fair to you, Antonella? Because for me, it sure doesn’t!” I pull away from the back of the chair, suddenly too energetic to maintain such a relaxed posture.
I lean one elbow on the table, moving closer to Antonella a lot less than I’d like, but still a lot closer than I should, because I have to stay rational here, and everyone knows it packs her bags and says goodbye the instant I feel the body heat of this terribly evil woman.
“Let’s reverse the situation... What if it was the other way around, Antonella? What if I did what you’re doing?I’d be one hell of a son of a bitch, wouldn’t I?” Despite the harsh words and the irritation that drives me to say them, the calmness in my voice is surprising, because I want nothing more than to understand Antonella, even though I no longer think she will give me this privilege. “So tell me, wife... All this time, were you just being the avenger that Graziella said you would be, or is there really a reason for all of this?Because right now, I can’t see alternatives and I’m very tempted to start believing the first one.”
“Marcos…” she begins to talk, but stops soon after saying my name.The struggle that Antonella is fighting inside herself hits me like a giant wave that drags everything wherever it goes.It even brings with it a sudden urge to say she doesn’t need to try, to tell her that I retract my words, and it makes me frown.Whole minutes are murdered, and nothing but my name is said.
I reach out my and take the glass of water in front of me.I take a few sips slowly.I shake my head, defeated and confused as hell at the way I reacted to whatever my words caused Antonella.
She’s feeling bad because she understands she’s hurting me.Isn’t that supposed to make me feel good?Then why the fuck isn’t it?
I breath out, suddenly tired and I am reminded why this is not the kind of thing I do.I’m not the type of guy who understands and takes care of the girl and I don’t even know how I got here, sitting in this restaurant, trying to be.
I look at my wife, her arms are resting on the table, and she’s looking at me as if she’s begging me to hear the screams in her eyes and want to hide them from me at the same time.
“Would you order your dessert? I have to go… I… I’ll be back in a minute.” I take the open napkin off my legs and, without waiting for her answer, leave her alone.
?
“I’m sorry…” Antonella says as we’re approaching her bedroom door, and I turn my face toward her.I think it’s the first time she’s said those words to me actually meaning it.
When I returned to the table after some time, I left outside the restaurant any desire to resume the subject we were discussing.At a safe distance from her, giving up was easy.
Finding her with a heavy expression on her face tested my determination, but I held her and, experiencing the same posture as Antonella, put on a mask of indifference.
I stole a few spoons of her dessert, and Antonella didn’t complain, just watched it all happen as if she was wondering what changed in ten minutes.I made meaningless jokes about any and all timely matters, behaved exactly as I always behaved with any other woman, only to realize that never before with Antonella had I worn a mask.
Our first date took place at the worst possible time, with me unconscious, drunk, on the verge of choking on my own vomit.I presented myself to her completely stripped of pleasantries and euphemisms, because I wanted her to know exactly who was proposing what.
Afterwards, a troubled event after another kept hitting me every time we were together, and I had to react, over and over again, never taking the time to do anything but be honest, being myself.And by the time I realized it, at the table at that restaurant, I still didn’t understand why Antonella’s resistance affected me so much or made me so angry.
When I understood, I wanted to laugh at myself.What’s driving me crazy, apart from the repressed horniness, of course, is the fact that I’ve been nothing but sincere with Antonella.
Everyone wears masks, but with her, I’ve never even rehearsed a theater, and yet she insists on holding on to parts of herself again and again.And even when I, find myself naturally willing to act as I never thought I would be able to behave, she does not deny wanting, she does not say she does not want me, she simply runs away, hides, masks herself.
To the same extent that I understood myself, I felt encouraged to do to her exactly what she has always been doing to me, not out of tantrums, but because I no longer know how to act.
I didn’t feel any pleasure, I hated every second of it.I hated every forced smile.I hated every empty laugh.I hated not enjoying the final moments of her company with a nice conversation, with her acidic humor or with her direct, almost rude way of expressing herself.I hated not being able to talk about Isabella, I hated that all my desires were too much for what the woman before me was willing to give me.
And that’s the whole reason why I look at her now wanting so badly that she was being honest with me.
“For what?” We stopped as we reached Antonella’s bedroom door after we both paid a silent visit to a sleeping Isabella.Her teeth are sunk into her lower lip, her head is tipped back against the door, and her arms hang loosely at her sides.
