Those Who Leave and Those Who Stay Read Online Free PDF Page B

was generally reserved. Nino pressed him, showing a real interest in his studies (
I read an article somewhere in which you compare milk and honey to wine and every form of drunkenness
), and urging him to talk about them, so that my fiancé, who tended not to talk about his subject, gave in, he corrected good-humoredly, he opened up. But just when Pietro was starting to gain confidence, Adele interrupted.
    “Enough talk,” she said to her son. “What about the surprise for Elena?”
    I looked at her uncertainly. There were other surprises? Wasn’t it enough that Pietro had driven for hours without stopping, to arrive only in time for the dinner in my honor? I thought of my fiancé with curiosity, he had a sulky expression that I knew and that he assumed when circumstances forced him to speak about himself in public. He announced to me, but almost in a whisper, that he had become a tenured professor, a very young tenured professor, with a position at Florence. Like that, by magic, in his typical fashion. He never boasted of his brilliance, he was scarcely aware of his value as a scholar, he kept silent about the struggles he had endured. And now, look, he mentioned that news casually, as if he had been forced to by his mother, as if for him it meant nothing. In fact, it meant remarkable prestige at a young age, it meant economic security, it meant leaving Pisa, it meant escaping a political and cultural climate that for months, I don’t know why, had exasperated him. It meant finally that in the fall, or at the beginning of the next year, we would get married and I would leave Naples. No one mentioned this last thing, instead they all congratulated Pietro and me. Even Nino, who right afterward looked at his watch, made some acerbic remarks on university careers, and exclaimed that he was sorry but he had to go.
    We all got up. I didn’t know what to do, I uselessly sought his gaze, as a great sorrow filled my heart. End of the evening, missed opportunity, aborted desires. Out on the street I hoped that he would give me a phone number, an address. He merely shook my hand and wished me all the best. From that moment it seemed to me that each of his gestures was deliberately cutting me off. As a kind of farewell I gave him a half smile, waving my hand as if I were holding a pen. It was a plea, it meant: you know where I live, write to me, please. But he had already turned his back.

7.
    I thanked Adele and her friend for all the trouble they had taken for me and for my book. They both praised Nino at length, sincerely, speaking to me as if it were I who had contributed to making him so likable, so intelligent. Pietro said nothing, he merely nodded a bit nervously when his mother told him to return soon, they were both guests of Mariarosa. I said immediately: you don’t have to come with me, go with your mother. It didn’t occur to anyone that I was serious, that I was unhappy and would rather be alone.
    All the way back I was impossible. I exclaimed that I didn’t like Florence, and it wasn’t true. I exclaimed that I didn’t want to write anymore, I wanted to teach, and it wasn’t true. I exclaimed that I was tired, I was very sleepy, and it wasn’t true. Not only that. When, suddenly, Pietro declared that he wanted to meet my parents, I yelled at him: you’re crazy, forget my parents, you’re not suitable for them and they aren’t suitable for you. Then he was frightened, and asked:
    “Do you not want to marry me anymore?”
    I was about to say:
No, I don’t want to
, but I restrained myself in time, I knew that that wasn’t true, either. I said weakly, I’m sorry, I’m depressed, of course I want to marry you, and I took his hand, I interlaced my fingers in his. He was an intelligent man, extraordinarily cultured, and good. I loved him, I didn’t mean to make him suffer. And yet, even as I was holding his hand, even as I was affirming that I wanted to marry him, I knew clearly that if he hadn’t appeared