The bench. Free to love

THE BENCH. FREE TO LOVE - part ONE

for Lorena Sossai
It was for her, and with her, that these linesflow into one another.It is thanks to her that I came back to Life.To her, a wonderful friend.It is to her, with all my love and sincere deepgratitude that I dedicate this novel.I know that she will read it from up above.My personal thanks to the 2CELLOS,whose interpretation of "Benedictus"created such deep emotions in me that they becamemy source of inspiration.

ONE

By freeing ourselves from shamewe also free ourselves from lies.And nothing will remain of the human societycreated by the demon.Only happy lovers will live on this earth.(Alexander Pushkin)

"Hey Teacher, morning. Your bread rolls are
ready! Here you are... I put them aside as soon as
they arrived... still warm. Here you are, see?
White and soft just as you like them. Need
anything else?"
Sabrina is always like this, with a smile on her face,
authentic, real. Her cap always rests sideways on
her yellowish rather than blond hair, her apron is
always worn tight around her waist. She runs her
bakery with love and passion. She's always lived in
the suburbs and is proud of it. She's always been
behind the counter of a bakery, even when she
went to school, which she never completed. She
speaks with a Roman slang.
It comes naturally to her, without effort. On the
contrary, when she sometimes tries to speak a
more correct form of Italian with new customers,
she never really succeeds. So when she tries to use
the correct 'L' pronunciation instead of the 'ere'
used in the Roman dialect, her modern version of
the pronunciation used by Anna Magnani becomes
even more marked. She carries her roundness and
thick thighs with ease, even though she has to turn
sideways to get past her assistant in order to get
behind the counter.
"No thank you Sabrina. That's all for today."
"OK, you can pay me directly!"
"How much do I owe?"
"Not much Teacher... Forty cents. That should've
been forty-four cents... Hey... I've even given you
a small discount..."
"Thank you, thank you. Here you are."
"Thanks, Teacher. 'Have a nice day!"
The old teacher grasps the white plastic bag containing
the bread as Sabrina hands it over to him.
One of those bags that are produced nowadays,
thinner and thinner and more and more subtle,
almost invisible, imperceptible, and hard to open.
The teacher slides his wrist through the handles
and clasps the bag with his fingers. He straightens
his cap with the other hand, shifting it slightly to
the right over his greyish white-hair. He smiles
faintly at Sabrina, as usual, with an upward gaze
because of the stiffness of his slightly curved back
brought on by age.
He leaves after raising his hand for a last cordial,
polite and silent greeting.
"Hey, Daniela, what else can I do? I feel sorry for
him, poor thing. Could be my grandad. Don't
know... He's always so polite. The way people used
to be, know what I mean? He comes here every
day and always buys the same things, and then,
well... You saw him, didn't you?"
Sabrina pauses theatrically as she quickly sweeps
the breadcrumbs and flour off the counter with a
soft brush, something that she does several times
every day. As if to pause during a hurriedly narrated
story. She rests her hands on the edge of the
counter and turns towards Daniela, moving up
close to her, just enough to let her understand that
she's about to reveal something important.
"Lady on the third floor who always buys wholegrain
bread. The mum of the good looking guy
with the Suzuki, the one you fancy... OK. Well...
She told me that every day when the sun comes
out he goes to the garden below... Sits on a bench
and stays there for a while. Doesn' t talk much.
Everyone knows him. They say that he used to be
a really good music teacher. Also had a wife who
played the cello. So she did! He played the piano.
She sang too. But then, they say, at a certain point
she was no longer to be seen."
"And what happened? Did she die?"
"Don't know...! We never knew. Some people say
she went off with someone younger than herself, a
tenor, apparently really good looking. Others say
she drowned in the sea off France and her body
was never found. That's why they didn't even have
a funeral. You see."
"Well, at least he saved on that, didn't he? Hey...
don't look at me like that! My sister's mother-inlaw
spent ten thousand Euros on a funeral...!"
"How can you always joke like that? Anyway. I've
a soft spot for that man..."
A new customer enters. "Yes dear. What can I do
for you? ... What can Sabrina offer you today?"