Rewind and Play

2014

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Samuel

Giovanni snickers at my notepad.

“Really?” I ask, in mock-outrage; “I am here on official business. I need to learn how to cope with all the money I’m making, or else I will have to start stashing banknotes under the mattress.”

As soon as the words leave my mouth, I feel bad.  Even if it’s just a joke, I shouldn’t be bragging about my business with Giovanni. The man takes it the right way, fortunately: “We missed having you here, Samuel,” says Alice’s uncle; “If classes with my niece is what gets you to come back, so be it.”

I have not come as often as before to Il Cavallino, in recent times.

Partially it is because I am busier than ever, what with two jobs, a wedding, etcetera.

In very recent times, I must admit I have stayed away to preserve my mental balance a little.

It’s all because of Hurricane Alice.

Over the last couple of weeks, I have had many a conversation with myself, willing the brain to overpower the heart, rationality to beat instinct. The battle has been hard fought on both sides, but it seems like, for now, the former is prevailing.

That did nothing to prevent me from tidying up with slightly more care for tonight, despite the fact that I am exhausted. I have not been sleeping well, guilt and warring feelings keeping me awake for hours on end. Having to be chatting with customers all day long while bending over various limbs for a tattoo is the cherry on top of the shit cake I seem to be eating day in, day out.

Vittoria is starting to notice that something is off, too. Well, more than usual. She has always been very busy and pulling all sorts of hours for her job but, somehow, that has never kept her from criticising my own weird hours. These days she is especially critical of my absence from the apartment. My answer to that is coming by way of my weird humour, which is something else she doesn’t always understand. The combination has created a slightly more padded wall of silence between us. The fact that I am not willing to break it should be worrisome.

I sit at the table Giovanni indicates and not thirty second later, Alice comes in from the kitchen.

She is dressed with a black t-shirt and tight black jeans, and she seems to be self-consciously trying to fix her hair, hand raking nervously those black curls that do not budge a centimetre. I try hard not to stare at her.

 “Coffee?” She asks, a hand already on the handle of the coffee machine.

I smile, because of course she has already seen how tired I am: “Yes, please, it’s been a long day. I’ve had two four-tattoos and my back doesn’t like me at all.”

“Give me one second and I’ll be right with you.”

She prepares two espressos and brings them over.

Alice puts her phone down and she is just about to say something, when it pings.

“By all means, teacher, that might be important,” I say, sipping my espresso primly.

She chuckles, picks it up and smiles: “It’s Clara. We went to sample menus yesterday, and she just picked the restaurant for the wedding. I’ll have to reach out and confirm the booking tomorrow.”

Behind the words, I catch something: “Are you regretting offering to help? You don’t seem too excited,” I ask.

Alice’s mouth twists one way, then she bites her lip, while I will myself to look away from that specific part of her anatomy: “I am, I am delighted to help. We had a great time yesterday. It’s just…” She steals a glance at me, as if she’s already regretting what’s going to come out of her mouth next, then continues: “…It’s just these days I am not very fond of weddings.”

Well, I should have known better than to ask.

“Fair enough,” I reply, looking at those beautiful dark eyes. At least we are being honest, I suppose.

Alice smiles a sad smile and then gestures towards my laptop, sitting between us: “May I have a look at what you’ve done, if you have anything? We can use it as our starting point.”

I don’t want to think about those sad eyes, so I push through and turn on the machine, carefully moving the empty tiny cup on the side: “Thanks for the coffee, Ali. I hope you don’t offer free stuff to everyone or else the explanation why Il Cavallino is not going well is quite easy to find.”

“Ha. Anyway…”

“I am sorry, Ali.” The words rush out of my mouth, but I am not sure what I am sorry about. Everything, maybe? 

While I work to retrieve the file, Alice says, in a low voice: “Look, Sami. This is not going to be easy, but I really want it to work. So, it’s ok if it’s a little weird at the start. I wasn’t joking when I said that finding you it’s been a blessing. I’ll be on my best behaviour, and I just want you to be comfortable around me, ok? Let’s leave that half an hour buried under the snow and move forward. Is that ok?”

I feel relieved, in a way, and worse, in another. But I have to say: “You have yourself a deal. Please, though, don’t think…”

“I don’t think anything, and neither should you. Let’s make some spreadsheet magic now.”

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The next hour or so moves quickly. We pour over the original, basic bitch of a spreadsheet I showed her at the start of the evening. Despite the physical distance we were keeping then, we have been moving towards one another during our intense debates, and now we are sitting side by side. I am explaining to Alice, into quite some detail, the comings and goings of my business. It has grown enough that it’s reached the point of requiring some more structure now that, precisely, work is not lacking and I don’t have that much time to focus on the numbers part. Alice is trying to structure a spreadsheet so that I don’t have to buy software tools for it and my activity is just small enough that it can be done without too much hassle. She seems delighted by the fact that I am both confiding in her, giving her a lot of inside knowledge and a peek into the world of self-employment. Alice has always only worked as someone’s employee, and she is suitably impressed by the amount of work that is required to keep all the balls in the air when you are your own boss.

She seems to be even more determined to help her aunt and uncle now, with the newly acquired knowledge.

I am impressed by her determination, intelligence and care, but I try not to show it too much. I am trying really hard not to be too much, at the moment.

We are just starting to get into the minute details of my business, talking about what I would like to do with invoices and other documents of the sort, when we hear the phone ringing. It’s half past nine in the evening and we look at one another wondering who could that be, considering there’s only two people left in the place, playing at the poker machines in the corner with a glass of draught white wine each that’s been sitting there for the past two hours.

Alice’s uncle answers the call, his voice suddenly growing excited. We try and strain our ears, but we can’t really hear him. We stop trying to pretend to be talking between ourselves. Alice, growing restless, puts a hand on my arm and looks towards the bar, hyper-focused, peering at Giovanni, who is writing down something on a piece of paper.

When he finishes the call, I nod in the direction of the kitchen, where Giovanni runs to as soon as the phone call was over.

Alice hurries to the beaded curtain and before going in she turns to me, gesturing to follow.

When we reach the kitchen, Daniela is saying: “I will have to call Anita and Mirco back, at least for the night. It’s good news, Gio. It could be the start of us bouncing back.”

“What is?” asks Alice, leaning on the kitchen door frame.

Giovanni turns around from where he’s standing in front of Daniela, who was cleaning the hob: “I just got a call from Francesco Graziani, old Graziani’s son. They had a booking for his birthday in Novi but the restaurant called them to cancel last minute, something about a health inspection, doesn’t matter. He called me because I’ve known his dad for a long time and he’s a nice lad, and he’s asked me if we have space for a booking for Friday… for thirty people.”

“Thirty people?!” Alice is bouncing: “That’s great, zio Gio!” Alice hugs her uncle and then pauses: “Oh no, the painting… It’s not finished! I want this place to look pristine for Friday, you never know who could take a nice photo and upload it somewhere, and you know how these things go… Word of mouth is so important. And Graziani is a tricky fucker, but if we get him to like us, then he’ll tell everyone he loved il Cavallino.”

“We will need another waiter, I’d say” is saying Giovanni, looking at her and gaining more enthusiasm by the minute.

“I can ask Laura, I am sure she can help. Don’t worry about that, leave it with me!”

I also want this place to be saved, it’s been my safe haven for many years, a place where I would feel at home no matter what.

The village is not a forgiving place and people struggle to make do. Anything even remotely successful is rare. My own shop is one of the few that are reaching a status of stability and it’s partially because I’ve got the paint hustle on the side. Businesses need to stick together. And I want to  help Alice, Giovanni and Daniela, in particular.

“Ok, let’s do it.” I am standing just behind Alice. She turns around and beams at me before a weary expression creeps up on her face, one I don’t like seeing.

“Really? Oh, but you are tired and you had a long and likely shit day…”

“These people have fed me for as long as I can remember and I am their friend, and yours. I also happen to be a very good painter. If we start now, we will have everything painted tonight and tomorrow you can sort out the rest. Plus, I can’t cope with the excitement in your face. It’s…” I cut myself off abruptly, because I have not been thinking. Again.

Fortunately, Alice is so excited that she doesn’t hear my last words: “Thanks, Sami, I owe you a big one. A lot, a lot of spreadsheets.” Her eyes are shining, a manic glint in them.  

“It’s my pleasure,” I can only reply.

Daniela giggles: “If you two are done with whatever is going on there, you can start painting. We have a lot to organise. Come Gio, give me a hand cleaning up so we can go home and plan for Friday.”

I see Alice’s cheeks go red and I can’t help but feel my own heat up.

“Yes, let’s get cracking.”