The Love of My Youth Read Online Free PDF

I can’t remember now.”
    “I can’t either. And now I have no idea which side I’m on.”
    “If I ring the buzzer, we’ll get Valerie’s apartment and she can probably buzz us out.”
    “No need, someone’s coming,” he says.
    A young mother pushing a stroller puts her key into the door. She is model thin and model surly in black jeans, high heels, and a leather bustier. She looks at them impatiently and moves aside to let them out.
    “I’ll just get a taxi here,” she says, lifting her arm.
    He takes her arm and lowers it. “No,” he says. “I want to talk to you. I want to know about your life.”
    The touch of his hand on her arm is shocking. She’s disturbed by it, yet it would be absurd to show any sort of reaction.
    “My life,” she says. “My life is fine.”
    “I’d like to see you at least once more. There are things I’d like to tell you. And to ask. Perhaps we could go for a walk. Where are you staying?”
    “Near Piazza del Popolo. The Via Margutta.”
    Ah, he thinks, so she is wealthier than I. Then he remembers: she always was. He wants to indicate that this is of no importance. So he whistles. “Ritzy,” he says, purposely using a joke word to suggest that no one can take money seriously.
    “A little too upmarket for my comfort,” Miranda says. “You’d think Val would have been able to figure that out.”
    “It was always remarkable what Val seemed not to be taking in. Perhaps that’s how she’s got herself into this situation.”
    “Are we fated to always be the people we were? Always making the same mistakes?”
    He assumes she knows this is a question with no answer.
    “Where you live is near my daughter’s school. I walk her there every morning. She has lessons from ten to three. Are you free in the morning?”
    “My meetings begin in the afternoons.”
    “Well, then, shall we meet at the top of the Pincio at ten tomorrow morning?”
    The request alarms her. She’d wanted to see what he looked like; she told herself it would be just a glimpse. But to see him again: that takes things out of the realm of accident, and curiosity and chance. But to refuse: that, almost, suggests that she is frightened of something, that he is important in her present life in a way that he certainly is not.
    “Just for a short walk,” she says.
    He is ridiculously pleased that she’s agreed to it.
    “A short walk in the Borghese Gardens. Just as long as you like.”
    “All right,” she says, not knowing what it is that she’s agreed to.

Monday, October 8
THE PINCIO
“Now We Are Both Orphans”
    They both slept badly, and, looking at herself in the bathroom mirror, Miranda is distressed at the toll the sleepless night has taken. She can no longer be unmarked by sleepless nights; bruise-colored pouches form below her eyes; it’s impossible that she enjoy the sight of her face. She showers; the hot water helps. She opens the red quilted bag that holds her cosmetics: it is larger than she would ever have predicted, particularly since she prides herself on wearing very little makeup. She wouldn’t dream of wearing eye shadow before six, as some people wouldn’t dream of taking a drink before sundown. But she has invested in an impressive array of moisturizers and creams to even her skin tone. One claims that it can “disappear those telltale signs.” She opens a two-inch-round pot of under-eye cream; it contains aloe, honey, and bee pollen. She knows she’s a sucker for invisible cosmetics that claim to be found in nature.
    She applies a light peach-toned foundation, a peach-colored lipstick, changes the small silver ear hoops for her pearl studs. She thinks she looks much better. It is important to her that Adam not think she’s one of those women who always look worn out.
    She doesn’t know what she wants him to think, only that it is important that there are some things he doesn’t think about her. But what, exactly, does she want from this meeting today? It was one