bla bla bla same as before.
The Long And Winding Road
first chapter.
We can work it out [1]
Life is very short, and there's no time
For fussing and fighting, my friend
I have always thought That it's a crime
I know I will Ask You Once Again
Matilde and Constance were enough to be considered the polar opposite sisters in every respect. There are two cliches about being sisters, or you are so identical to another to make it obvious (school of thought of Aunt Anita), or are completely different and for some strange reason this makes you even more sisters in the eyes of others (school of thought of his grandfather Antonio).
Despite this three quarters of the relatives of Brandi - Ferretti always harbored deep doubts about the authorship of Matilda. Appealing to the fact that English mama's baby's maybe Pope, and knowing the history of Ludovic Ferretti, many wondered where that hair appear red in a family where the only case was just Matilde.
For the rest, Matilde was brazenly cast of his mother, in attitude and appearance. Between the two spouses beauty was unquestioned primacy of Ludovica, recognized by all in the first place, at the time, by Alex Brandon. Stefania Sandrelli seemed to copy over the years of his youth, with a slender yet dangerously physical female, doe-eyed strangely helpless as opposed to the mischievous smile to his lips pursed.
Matilda had undoubtedly inherited genes from his mother, his thin legs, big eyes and green lips pouting attitude in a pose or sometimes crossed by a fleeting smile and inviting. Victim of unrest that had never found an explanation, he was the one that would go close to disobey the rules if it was a duty to do so; mixed blessing of a father who loved her in all that he loved his mother, and they complained about the coldness with which her daughter to escape any attention he tried to speak. The trouble is that, for some strange mechanism of the human soul, can you stop loving your wife from day to day but never give up love your daughter.
to heal the wounds of the stabbing that Matilda threw him in the chest, dismissing all his expectations with a disturbing naturalness or the worst of satisfaction, there was his sister Constance.
Constance did not have the restless beauty of Matilda, but the soothing and delicate features of a doll of clay. The wall of the office of Alessio Brandi was carpeted by the photos of both but more stood in the face of Constance, who between the two was the only thought to be acceptable to smile in a photograph. With brown hair to fall gently on her shoulders, her thin lips and a nose almost French, he inherited his father's soulful eyes and the color of those of his mother and sister, yet apparently took around those features to limit perfection with a vaguely naive. Since she was little her father used to make fun of, called Constance of Hauteville, because he found that funny way of walking with my head up and shoulders straight, with a particular pride, and self-complacency that At first it had to worry about. As time has evolved into ambition, and Alex was able to put the heart at rest, and grow in secret the thought of leaving a place in Constanta, once he sold his work.
That was sadly ironic that his wife was the choice when choosing names for their daughters.
Like many other things, perhaps too many of their married life, Alex had left a free hand to his wife in terms of decision making and Ludovica had chosen two important names, to be proud of, but not easy to carry and, above all, he chose two names curiously strong [2] , in sharp contrast to the volatility and the emotional weaknesses of their mother.
Matilde and Constance were very different and very different from their mother perhaps, but to sum disgrace of their parents, were united by a crafty and Machiavellian mind of the first category.
° ° °
bad mood the morning after Matilda was anything but a feeling, for the rest of the family. Constance got up early, mostly because he had not slept more than two hours in all, and decided to have breakfast on the terrace, hoping not to be found.
Instead he heard the muffled footsteps of Matilda, who walk barefoot and looking disheveled had reached muttering something about the coffee house that would last forever too little. His sister saw good from the only one to point out that she was drunk, and occasionally his mother to swallow the pill, best of the day, and that this proportion was reduced to a number of caffeinomani family.
'E' over coffee '
"Your stomach feels mistreated already spasms of abstinence? "he asked sarcastically candor the child, calmly sipping his juice. Matilda did not find anything to say in his defense.
"Fred and Ginger showed up?" He asked pushing the vase of flowers in the left corner and retrieving each packet of cigarettes. The acrid smell of cigarette contaminated Constance good morning, while announcing that their mother had made a fleeting appearance at about eight, just to announce that he had to do and would pretend not to have a family all day.
"Hello girls" instead thundered the voice of Fred from the salon. With the click of a trained kidneys Matilda sat up in the launching of his cigarette and waving a little 'hands, castaway-style in the middle of the Pacific, to drive away the halo of smoke. Pathetic thought his sister, who was perfectly aware of the lack of attention from the father to all that the article was not saving the day. The proof was that he was still convinced that his daughters were aged seven and nine.
"Hello Dad" she whispered with a distracted smile, a faint tenderness and routine. Brandi Alexis made his entrance on the terrace, fully dressed for the office, with the newspaper in hand and a cup of iced tea in the other, and a smile that did not remotely reach the eyes.
Matilda looked up at him, preparing an expression of greeting immediately diverted to deal with the state of their nails.
"I heard a door slam, last night he announced he falsely thoughtfully, looking sideways at her eldest daughter. "Yes, we had a little argument" minimized ironic Constance, feeling at ease in lying to his father. She knew he was not listening, then the guilt reached it after a considerable delay, if sopraggiungesse.
"Sure, sure," he said finishing his tea and opening the newspaper to practice.
End of proof Alessio Brandi had quietly ignored the answer to the question I had posed little concerned. Constance did not have any problems with her father because their tendencies, one to lie with the most sincere face of this world, and the other to extend applications only for the duty imposed by the label without any family wanting to know the answers, matched perfectly. The conversations between them could have been extended for hours, touching on any topic, would not change much. They would continue to talk about everything without saying anything.
This was perfect for Matilda, who was impatient as it was rather annoying having to engage in trying to propose a good lie every time, and as in that case leave it all to Constance.
"When that you and Mom left for the lake, in the end? "asked the other hand very interested. He had to repeat the question twice, because his father was searching the Mibtel.
"I think this Saturday, unless your mother did not face capture by the latest attack of black humor."
Constance Matilda and exchanged a worried look, knowing that it was not too remote a possibility.
"Try to make her relax a bit, 'Dad' debuted in the least conciliatory tone, softening his tone on the last word. His father nodded absently with a sigh.
"change of scenery will do you good, you could linger until Tuesday afternoon, as you did ever before," seconded the Matilda, feigning indifference and honesty of purpose. Only then his father looked up from her newspaper to focus on the profile of his daughter, yet committed itself to monitor the status of your nails. "Things are not the same as before for a while 'time, Matilda. "
She snorted sarcastically, smacking his lips and exchanging yet another look with his sister. "Ever since I replaced it with the Xanax, you mean?" Asked intentionally sharp, aiming at those hazel green eyes of the parent. His father did not seem hurt at all, and ended up giving her tacit reason without qualms.
"I have to go to the office he announced a few seconds later, waking from its torpor and closing the newspaper. "See you for dinner, girls."
Matilde pretended not to have heard an effort to spare in the morning.
"I need free house this weekend," he murmured thoughtfully a few seconds later, once the door was closed behind her father. Constance looked at her with a smile on his thin lips, having no need of answers.
'E' for so we do not do a party here, "seconded by closing the eyes and stretched himself on the chair. The early morning was still possible to escape from the that would be dropped on all of them soon.
"Yeah. The last time was when I met Lorenzo. "
Constance emphasized the sly smile.
"I knew you'd say."
° ° °
Try to see it My Way
Only time will tell if I am right or I am wrong
While you see it your way
There's a chance That We May fall apart before too long
We can work it out
Three days later, in an ordinary morning, lying on the lawn of Lorenzo Villa Ada had as the only sure that you want to be sedated.
had left the house after waking up to those her mother called princely times, leaving to understand that they were not of royal blood and therefore would be more appropriate to get up earlier, when the sun is rising and not just setting. The excuse that he had served up to her mother to go out while not in any way put the nose between the pages of the book was nothing.
"Where are you going?"
"out"
"What for?"
"Things"
And then he closed the door behind him, shielding from traffic noise summer in Rome with his mp3 player headphones. The truth was that those four walls where he lived and put it stifled anguish, but now, lying on the grass, eyes closed and the sun in your face, if he had his eyes on the faces around him, he would also found that the vastness of the outside actually put the anxiety and choked him in a different way. For this he was convinced that he would not be sorry not be sedated, Ramones-style [3] , and who we have seen we have seen or be seen again later.
And not sedated for twenty-four hours, which was a minimum time and ridiculous, but for something like a month, or maybe a year. Waking up at least would have had a lot of news around and he wasted no time (or maybe it would take) to distinguish them all and wonder of each.
"Oh, Ashkenazy" [4] .
Lorenzo lazily lifted his eyes, making the great effort to open the eyes of his friend, while imposing the tonnage of the revelry obscured the sun. Two feet high and eight years of martial arts were Raffaele Strummer told a good friend.
"Oh," replied the other rather than unstressed, making him sign to sit down and prepare a filter for "cigarette". Strummer did not need to repeat twice, and began sacrificing hard work of a bus pass current month, doing everything with a certain automatism now.
had that call to his complete inability in challenging a guitar despite what anyone might have expected from him of his call as the focal point of the Clash. A well-thought first coined that pearl of sarcastic irony was just Lorenzo, who was called Ashkenazy some 'for fun and a little' because after all he had a way with the piano really.
Raffaele did not take that story ever, that received the nickname because he was saddled with a certain affection: first of all because he knew that Lawrence had the entire discography of The Clash stacked under the lampshade (take a disk and insert it into the stereo effect was a work of delicate architectural movements each time) and also because despite its inability , Lorenzo had fought to keep him in the group, even when they had one.
He blathered that even Sid Vicious and the Sex Pistols were real musicians on stage but we knew to be, that with time would become familiar with the tool and its features, the Ramones had made history without studying the Conservatory, what the hell he was talking about punk is not it? But then in mid-speech he gave up, because the others were not convinced and not because everyone was convinced of himself. Raffaele had left the group without rancor, and was proposed as their manager. Two weeks after the group had disbanded.
"Tonight?" Lorenzo asked holding out the filter.
What muttered something under his breath, but nothing definite.
"Eh?"
"Dunno, I told Matilda that perhaps his leaving."
Finally, reluctantly spat and using a tone suspiciously vague. Raffaele rushed back on the grass, hands behind his head and the air of one who already has had enough even before anything had even begun.
"Feast" asked knowing the answer.
"It seems so. Shall we go? "Asked Lawrence, turning the barrel and sat, staring grimly somewhere in front of him.
I do not know, we go there? "He turned around demand Strummer, aware that Matilda had to go cautious, because the border between heaven and hell under the broken ball was dangerously thin and Lorenzo had a natural ability to cross it solutions are always too late.
"Last night we met, I do not know."
"Let 'Strummer humor him, taking a shot in turn.
Lorenzo nodded and then did not say anything about it. He did not want to rehash the disastrous night just passed.
°°°
Try to see it my way
Do I have to keep on talking till I can't go on?
While you see it your way
Run the risk of knowing that our love may soon be gone
We can work it out
When Matilda had called him once he realized that he should not accept, because he would try in every way to talk about their . But with Matilde things were always like the way she wanted. So in the end did not waste time looking for excuses, and had agreed to go out together, a bite to eat and drink in San Lorenzo. One thing quiet, very informal, where he could easily evade his questions without having to explain that he felt his former . Just had tried to haul something but in the end the attempt went wrong and end of games, sexual and otherwise.
The problem Matilda was that it was incredibly beautiful. Of that particular beauty, a little 'Forastiere, you know you can not mold because it is perfect as is, unattainable in their own way. When you ended up in bed together and he bit his lips, or if the string on him and let her do anything she wanted with her body, really felt he did not have anything on your hands. Escaped his contact, and it was so perfect. It was a continuous series, and when she decided that the race was over, and finally left to take, was the final moment (not better, because in all honesty could tell Lorenzo that having sex with Matilda was all beautiful, every part, every gesture, every glance, all the intentions and achievements of all those intentions) and fulfilling, and after he felt incredibly good.
But then it happened that she would give him an appointment in front of a restaurant to Matilda, who did the hard questions and have any expectations on his part and that ruined everything, because affective bonds Lorenzo felt a little 'stifling .
So the night before had gone to fetch her in the car because he had managed to scrape together five euro for petrol by a miracle and to reserve two for the beer that would got busy at the pub down the street, according to his plans. Matilda had left the gate with a dress that had never seen him, a little 'cuteness, but she could take it and of course he had warned the usual deadly grip, which made her want to kiss you till you drop, without having to strip to strength. Matilda was not an animal and a prey was not any. Matilda was true and he really took to her. In his own way, perhaps different from what she wanted, but that he could not help much. She lived in that building and he lived in Villa Ada on the other hand, the angle and the perspective from which to view the world and with which to express itself in this regard was inevitably different.
In short, he snorted in front of that restaurant and said it was the same, that indulge his whims was pleasant only when the vagaries had some kind that had not the beak of a penny and that the place made him incredible anxiety and took away any ambition to communicate, because the moment would come there would be someone in uniform that he would speak for them.
"The pushed the chair, sir," he said and he had first thought that wanted to sit still, he wanted to smoke a cigarette on the patio, is granted? And so on with similar situations throughout the evening. Of course, just out of that time, he and Matilda had finished with the quarrel, and no dessert in all directions. But then they were still together, but now it was assumed that they discussed, in fact probably because of what they had seen, to argue talking about two completely different things, so there was no expectation that would have been disappointed.
"Lorenzo, what a drag. For one night you can get in, no? "Matilda had replied to his reproaches, without waiting for an answer - as a waiter in livery that was already the ambush - had taken him by the arm dragging it to the restaurant.
The dinner was good at least. Used to eat pizza slices or thaw foods cooked at home when he was at lunch, had nothing to complain about. Then of course, she looked at him with those big eyes and beautiful, and he understood that any pleasure was over.
"I guess I need to start, right?".
"You asked me to see us."
"Because you feel you have not done more."
"happens when two stop seeing."
The thin fold of her lips had contracted and Matilda took a sip of wine by the glass. Lorenzo was distracted looking at the mouth, thinking that for some strange reason, the wine in that place is not allowed to get drunk. She was always terribly sober though ended up consuming two bottles. Perhaps because it was inhibited by uniformed waitresses.
"I'm sorry that we stopped seeing each other" she confessed, putting the glass in place and they set their eyes on him. Lorenzo felt crushed and flattered at the same time but avoided the trap. That air so sincere, innocent, that grief felt so, the way she looked at him: at the right time, just as slowly. All calculated to put him up against the wall and make him feel dizzy. Matilda knew, he never left anything to chance. Never.
had arranged to meet him, pretending to meet for the first time.
He had obtained an invitation to the next (and last, but then none of them knew it) concert of the group with the same tactic she had driven his moves into believing that everything was was their own initiative.
The only thing they had mutually agreed and that Lawrence had been confident of having a say, was finally in bed after an hour.
"Yes, but in recent times we did not even see us" reminded some of doverglielo not remember at all. Arguing to hourly made sense then every hour until it was peace. But he did not conceive the idea of being offended against the other for days and having to call to try to correct the misunderstanding. She, however, conceived it and how, indeed it claimed, and then the fight itself was added to this and entered into a vicious circle, exhausting and expensive.
"We should have reasons a little 'up'.
Lorenzo gave her reason, but did not say it. He looked down and was lost in strange and convoluted convoluted thoughts about the poor who want to talk about their problems, although she knew that if he did maybe something would be solved.
feel they have the power to question themselves, to seek a compromise, to take a step forward and one step back, put your hands in the dough. Matilda was always busy, busy doing a thousand things all together you think a hundred others, was filled with things and people around, always had new energy to be used in any way.
Lorenzo instead had the impression of being trapped between his thoughts and desires, including the satisfaction you wanted to have but it is impossible (which depended, however, only by him) to act to achieve them in practice. The story with Matilda: he liked as a person and read well, did not even say so, but should work on that their relationship To spend forces and take a beating, because inevitably someone like her and with someone like him things were never easy. It was complicated. And he felt very tired, despite not having done almost nothing.
"Let's go home," asked the other hand, looking exhausted air.
Matilda wanted to slap, I can see it in his eyes and felt his hands trembling, shaking around the napkin. He wanted to stroke her hand and kiss her, apologize for the sluggishness with which he faced life, explaining what he wanted and what he could not do it, give reasons for the series. He wanted to get along with her. He wanted
already be at the next level, having fought and been successful.
"I think I hate you, Lorenzo. I do not know why I insist so much, you're really an asshole. "
"I know.
"And do not give me reason."
'No'.
At that point she had thrown the towel on him and he had laughed.
"Take me home."
He said, without look at him and stood up abruptly. The servant in livery he had watched with dismay, not having had time to anticipate their moves and offset the chair. By sheer mockery, Lorenzo went in person to take his jacket and handed it to Matilda laid her on his shoulders, giving a look of defiance with the waiter. He obtained the promise of revenge from him and yanked by Matilde.
"What do you do now, the kind and thoughtful guy?"
Lorenzo put his hands in his pockets and left the restaurant, with a sigh, half raised and half heartfelt. That situation did not like, and knew he had ruined the evening, if possible even more than expected.
"Hey Matilda, I'm sorry, okay?"
"No, not good. Now we do? Me home, I put my hands under her dress, we kiss and then we no longer feel for other weeks? ".
was furious.
"But you want from me?"
He had asked for a bit 'exaggerated and a little' genuinely curious. If you had made it clear that the moves would Lorenzo wanted compiesse, maybe sometimes he could listen to her.
'Forget it. Let's go home, really. "
"I do not know."
Matilda had continued marching toward the car.
"There are just things I do not know, do not even know you, are just more talkative than me."
"Do me a favor, at least shut up."
She stopped near the door, looking for a cigarette in her purse. Lorenzo had extracted from a pocket and a bit 'had offered it to him timidly.
"But it is. Eventually you'll like it too because they are done this way. Did you know when we met, I was so not as you wanted. Then you're out to do with me? ".
He asked opening the door and sitting in the car. Matilda looked at him, piercing as usual this time, but in fact, looked down, biting the cigarette filter, and finally, a weak voice said, "I do not know a bit 'and a little ashamed' feeling relieved, because in his own way and even that was an answer because they were talking about how of thing.
"Ok, we do not know."
And then he had brought home. He did stop at the corner, because his father would not see her come back so late and she left without saying goodbye in another way. He had waited to see her turn, with a strange feeling. It was as if they had said something, as if that time had something definitive, as though they had officially split up. They had left saying he was not so . Non poté fare a meno di pensare che c’era stato un motivo se si erano piaciuti, tutto sommato.
°°°
Think of what you're saying
You can get it wrong and still you think that it's alright
Think of what I'm saying
We can work it out and get it straight, or say good night
We can work it out
[We Can Work It Out - Beatles]
Raffaele did the last pitch of reed at the exact moment they arrived in pairs and Federico Lazo. Looked at him bitterly noting that it had timing and sat down beside him and Lorenzo. Fred took out the raw material for stopping the damage and turn another joint.
"Tonight we do?" Lazo said the other two.
Raphael shrugged.
"We have no-"
"Let's go to a party," said Raffaele and Lorenzo instead he felt not to contradict him.
[1] The Beatles, We can work it out, http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=59NNupminV8
[2] Matilda: from the Germanic à "fighting hard" Constance Latin à "constant, tenacious"
Prologue was here: galway-girl3.livejournal.com/26640.html # _ftn1
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