The End

Saturday, 22th May 1993

Saturday by long sleeve sweatshirt, moreover with up at dawn. During the week, thanks to Sandro's intercession, I asked Angelo for a shift change; I'd have reached the lake on Friday evening, leaving directly from Milan, working on Saturday, returning home on Sunday when I preferred, better if still in the company of the sunlight. And on Monday I'd have returned to my main job more relaxed, ready to sportily face new injustices. Angelo quickly agreed, he had sons more or less of my same age and understood on the fly the situation without asking for too many further details.

That weekend the plan went better than expected because after the fight with Fosca I went out of work before, reaching my summer residence late in the afternoon. When after dinner I went to a nearby bar to call mum Eva was already keeping company to Hungry Heidi; I was relieved about that, so much.

That morning the weather wasn't suitable for an outdoor breakfast on the terrace, I just stood in front of the closed window door, sipping my tea and in the meantime trying to see the other shore.

He came with his sporty boat around seven, sleeveless black wet suit, his bright skin as the only sour note on the chords of a cinder panorama.

In a few minutes he disappeared, swallowed by the same mystery casually bringing him so close to me.

*****

I spent all the day at the bar, with such a variable weather there wasn't much ice-cream desire around. I hoped someone came to visit me but unfortunately it didn't happen. Angelo invited me to leave shortly after five, accompanying his concession with the same two banknotes of the previous week; it seemed to me a theft considering how little I worked but he justified it arguing that during the summer it would have happened more often the contrary. I trusted his business experience, I took my jacket and umbrella and I came home.

When I got in front of the entrance door a sudden curiosity reached me. I came back to the parking, my Panda was enjoying the rainy twilight alone.

Green light.

I walked again the path peeking a doorbell at a time, looking for his home, but unfortunately I didn't find any one labelled with his surname. It wasn't so strange; the houses were mostly owned by residents and rented for the summer, so no identification signs available. Moreover if his accommodation was the result of a friend or relative's generosity like my case, discovering his refuge became impossible.

The night was close to come, however I made a second attempt, looking for any detail which could bring me closer to the goal, something abandoned outside the entrance, such as an umbrella, a pair of shoes or slippers, or his rowing uniform, even just something black; it wasn't such an absurd idea considering how he was messy.

If he had seen me; put aside the embarrassment, I still had a certain awe towards him, which in some cases transformed itself into real fear. I remembered Fiamma's recommendations: to be careful, not to be naive with a superfine mind like him, in short, to doubt. Unfortunately I was far behind; I confessed him several important things about me, until to trust enough him, until to discover we even shared at the weekend the same swamp. And if all that wasn't happened just by accident? What if he was secretly stalking me, then inventing the rowing story to be recognized, surprising me after so getting even closer? Perhaps he was spying me even at that moment, maybe he had already made a copy of my home keys and was waiting for the perfect moment to give open vent to his deranged impulses. If I accidentally came across a psychopathic madman who pretended to be my friend and then sliced ​​me putting my rests as a souvenir in the freezer or throwing them in the accomplice waters, however it was too late.

Could I have really got such a colossal blunder? Impossible. And I surprised him at the ice-cream shop, moreover not alone; if he had tried to touch me I'd have run away until his nice father to report everything. Or maybe both the elder and the kid were paid actors to get me on the wrong track? No, it had no sense. Both of them were similar, both of them were true. And he was the most true of all.

Anyway, all those absurd fears, fuelled by the growing darkness, convinced me to desist and locked myself at home.

When I got to the entrance door I heard meowing; from a nearby bush appeared a little black cat by the big amber eyes, a small wet panther, scared and perhaps hungry. For sure not a spy of the alleged enemy, certainly not him magically transformed into a cat.

I picked it up and I took it home, finally company. I don't know how many times I did the same thing in the court house. I loved animals, so did mum and grandma; the only ban was to bring them inside home walls. But that time I was the unique mistress so I could finally do what I preferred.

The puppy let me drying it, then he devoured in a second my same dinner, milk and biscuits; once satisfied it rewarded me, coming again on my arms and accepting my attentions, then purring and other meows, no escapes, bites or scratches. A docile and grateful company, with animals it was easier than with humans.

My new friend meowed again, looking at me with its nice snout by the long moustaches; maybe it wanted a name, a tangle of antagonistic emotions suggested me Batman.

I reached the terrace at the ground floor with him, we sat on the lounge chair to admire the nocturnal lights of the other shore; it had stopped raining and the blanket protected us from the intense evening freshness. Batman wasn't bothered by the height, who knows how many races he already did on roofs and alleys of the neighbourhood.

While I was making my solitary considerations, I was reached by the breeze coming from the lake and with it I breathed cigarette smell. I wondered where it came from, the insistence of the tobacco flavour suggested me to turn on the left. After Sandro's home there was another building, more or less of the same proportions, but closed that day, perhaps the rain discouraged its owners to reach it for the weekend.

Then I looked beyond, where there was another rustic home, two floors, leaned over the lake but in a more advanced position compared to mine. The window door of the wide ground floor terrace, like a semicircle, was open, the internal lights reached also the balcony, shading its surface. On that inconsistent border line I recognized the smoke of the cigarette and far beyond its master. Short sleeve despite the falling temperatures, elbows leaning against the wet railing, eyes stretching towards the empty void, captured by unknown thoughts.

Instinctively I clung to Batman.

I hoped that from inside came to him the same comfort but it didn't happen. Neither the son, nor the grandfather.

After a few minutes of meditation he turned towards the other light, the one of my terrace. When it happened my attitude didn't change; no possible understanding between our looks still so far but again that irrational desire not to leave him alone, despite all.

*****

The next day I worked on the thesis, Batman lazily balled up next to me on the bed, while outside a fine rain infiltrated the stones of the old houses like the bones of all its inhabitants. Who knows what was happening a few metres away, who knows what he did or thought when the anaesthetic effect of the business or my whims didn't distract him.

I didn't plan a specific time to get up that morning, but a bad dream suggested me to do it however soon; I took advantage of it to get out on the balcony, still wrapped in the blanket. Once there I assisted to new solitary races over the water, even that day grey and cold, as if his body as well as his soul was now impermeable to everything.

From so far away it was too hard to understand, but it seemed to me that approaching my home he turned the look towards my terrace. Once again I didn't move, it was exactly what I wanted; that he saw me, that he knew I was there, at my own risk and danger. As at work he didn't seem to like intruders in his bitterness, a malaise erasing everything except my hope of helping him, maybe, one day.

In the first afternoon, already dark because of the cloudy weather, I prepared my things to go back to the big metropolis. I explained to Batman he hadn't to get afraid about my departure, that I'd have returned to keep him company after a few days and throughout the summer; he wasn't worried, maybe he changed astutely boss every week, without feeling any regret. His animal friendship would have certainly taught me a lot for my human life.

When I got to the parking my Panda wasn't alone, who knows if Eva, unlike Batman, was annoyed about her friend's departure. We greeted her and we started our journey; she reached us shortly after, on the wet and dangerous inner coast road, and just like the previous week she kept us company almost until my destination.