The strategist
(July 1997)

May I come in?
Come in, the door is open.
Here, I brought you a nice supply of diapers and some cans for the cat. And also some tights, because I saw that you always tear them while working in the garden.
You're an angel.
An archangel, to be precise. Just kidding, where do I put this stuff?
Just put it on the table in the hall. If you're thirsty, there's some iced tea in the fridge. Where did you go shopping?
To that supermarket that opened recently in Castiglione. I hate supermarkets, but I read somewhere that they are a little different: for example, on Thursdays and Saturdays they sell products at cost price to give a hand to people who have economic problems. A nice initiative, all in all. How is our little one?
Very good. Come to the living room, we are here. You arrived in time for the feeding.
Really? Come on, that's great: can I just watch you?
Sure, sit next to us. But what did you do to your hair?
Nothing, I let them grow a bit: didn't you notice?
You haven't come to see me for a couple of months, Michael: didn’t you notice?
I know, I apologize: I had some problems at home. But I contacted you every day by phone.
Huh, at least that.
Anyway, my hair was already long enough when we last saw each other, only you never pay attention to my physical appearance.
Yes, but what do the ponytail and the shaved nape mean?
I like to keep my hair long on top of my head, but if it’s loose it falls in my face and bothers me, so I tie it up.
But the black pearl earring and bracelet?
He sucks like a python, the little one.
Yes, he's always hungry.
That's a good sign.
Don't change the subject: whose idea was it? Laura's?
Actually, it was mine. I wanted to see how I was. One day I said to myself: why should it be a privilege of the second-born? And so I tried. Of course, it has a different effect on Emmanuel: he is handsome, blond, has regular features. Totally the opposite of mine.
It's precisely because you have dark hair and irregular features that you look great, Michael. The contrast is very sensual.
I know, the other women tell me that too.
The other women?
Set point.
I mean, mostly Laura.
But doesn't this new look cause you problems at work?
I've made a name for myself in my environment, people don't care about my physical appearance. I mean, the males.
Why did you never have ideas like that when we were together?
I don't know, I thought you liked me the way I was.
I actually liked you, but now...
Now?
Let me see: you have a lot of muscles in your arms and chest. There weren't that many before. do you go to the gym? 
Yes, sometimes.
And this perfume?
I changed aftershave.
It reminds me of something.
Or maybe of someone. But enough nonsense. You look so beautiful right now, like a Renaissance painting.
He is very handsome, I am not: I am overweight.
It's normal after pregnancy. And besides, apart from Botticelli's paintings and a few others, all the Madonnas are overweight. Botticelli's feminine ideal is the only current one, don't you think?
Now I look like a Madonna by Rubens.
Don't overdo it. And then you'll have plenty of time to lose those extra pounds, just a little exercise. We can go running together, if you want.
Running?
Yes, let's go jogging a bit.
And the baby?
Let's go get grandma and leave her at home with him for a couple of hours. What do you say?
That's a great idea: my mother loves being with the baby.
Like all grandmothers.
But I'll run slowly, the jolts bother me because of the milk.
We'll run very slowly.
My breasts are getting saggy, see? They're swollen and bluish.
Your breasts are beautiful even like this, but I see that little cracks are forming around the nipple.
They're called fissures.
Don't they hurt you?
Yes, they hurt quite a bit. Doctor Fasano prescribed me a cream, but I haven't tried it yet. It's on the table.
If you want, I can spread it on you when you change sides to feed: maybe it will relieve the burning sensation a bit.
Yes, thank you. The milk is finished on this side, I'll move the baby to the other.
Here it is: it needs to be massaged to make it penetrate.
You have a very delicate touch.
Of course, otherwise I risk making the situation worse.
It seems to be working, I'm already feeling much better.
And the postpartum depression?
What depression? To be honest, I feel like I'm in heaven right now.
Now let's put him to sleep: I'll help you. This baby is very good, he never cries.
Yes, he's a really good baby.
The cat got into the crib.
I know, he always does it: he curls up at his feet and sleeps with him. I think that's also why he's so calm.
But where did this cat come from?
Emmanuel gave it to me some time ago.
Really? What an unpredictable boy.
By the way, have you heard from him?
He's fine, don't worry: Arianna's family has entrusted him to the care of a good analyst from Siena who is fixing him up little by little. Of course, we'll pay the bill.
Yes, I already knew that. I meant something else.
What?
Did he take the final exam?
Oh yeah, silly me! I have great news for you: he passed the exam with flying colors. Fifty-two sixtieths, a great grade.
Really? I'm happy! But what were you waiting for to tell me? I didn't dare ask you.
Sorry, it slipped my mind.
I can't believe it, Michael, it can't have slipped your mind, you know how much I care about his school situation: I took care of it for a long time. I warn you that I don't accept easy ironies about it: I really cared about his education.
Don't close up right away, I'm not insinuating anything. You're right, I kept silent on purpose: I'm always afraid of touching a sore point.
It still hurts, Michael, even if you don't touch it: but now that the baby is here, I feel much better. I'm so happy that he passed the exam, it's like they took a stone out of my stomach! Thanks for telling me.
I should have told you earlier, sorry.
I'm worried about him, you know?
Why? I just told you he's fine.
I don't think he can be really well after Jeff Buckley's death. It must have been a hard blow for him.
What does Jeff Buckley have to do with it?
You don't know your brother, Michael, that's obvious. But let's leave it at that, let's try to look on the bright side of things: at least he passed the exam.
The problem is what he will do now: my brother is too crazy for any job.
In the meantime, he can take time with university.
Rather than taking time, I would say wasting time: he will choose some useless faculty.
Will he attend in Siena or Turin?
Almost certainly in Siena: I think his transfer is now definitive, Arianna's parents consider him as a son and the engagement is almost official. I think we won’t see him again often, my little brother.
Maybe it's better this way, given the circumstances.
Maybe, who knows. I trust in Arianna's concreteness, she seemed like a girl with her head on her shoulders to me.
What do you know about Arianna's concreteness?
I met her.
Did you meet her? And you didn't tell me anything?
You met her too: you didn't tell me either.
You're right, sorry.
I heard it from her. Arianna knows that the child is Emmanuel's son: that's no small detail, Antonia.
You don't have to worry, we agreed: she will keep the secret from Emmanuel.
I know. You've effectively cut him out.
It's better this way, believe me.
Nothing good can be built on a lie, Antonia, even if it is a lie told for the greater good. But in this case your mental balance is at stake, perhaps it is better this way. At least for now.
Thanks for realizing that.
How could I not realize that? That's why you left me. Anyway, Arianna is a pretty girl, solid, intelligent. She seems like the right person to convince my brother to enroll in a sensible college, otherwise he would end up choosing something extravagant and trendy like Zen Buddhist philosophy or languages of the Southwest Caspian Sea or psychotherapy of the mongoose in heat.
In this last branch I see him well.
Because you identify with the mongoose.
How funny. Anyway Michael, seriously: do you think your brother could be a lawyer or an accountant?
My God, no: the very thought is ridiculous.
A doctor? A notary? A pharmacist?
Absolutely not.
So what?
Maybe a lone navigator. But there's no point in thinking about it now: problems must be addressed one at a time.
Antonia, I don't know how to tell you: I had to sell the house in Pecetto. It was the only way to save the villa in Bordighera, you know that Mom cares a lot about it. We also had to cancel the lease on the cabin in San Sicario, it had become unsustainable for our finances. This is also why I didn't get in touch with you anymore: I had to follow the sale and keep up with the move, there were valuable furniture, carpets and paintings to take to the antique dealer, a serious person who has a gallery near Piazza Cavour. He appraised them and is putting them up for auction.
Is he the antique dealer my friend Collina works for?
You have no friends, Antonia; however I believe it is him. Unfortunately things are not going so well with Dad's work, several clients have gone bankrupt and are no longer paying their suppliers. Things are going from bad to worse in the Italian economy, despite the triumphalism of our unspeakable politicians.
I'm sorry, Michael: the house in Pecetto was beautiful. But you did well, you're already supporting this house and us. I promise you that as soon as I can I'll look for a job.
Don't worry at all: this little house is nice but modest, not even comparable to the other one in terms of taxes and maintenance costs. I can manage very well, and then I can come and visit you whenever I want without anyone bothering me: this alone is worth the expense.
I actually thought you were going to come back to live in our house with Laura.
With Laura? Not a chance: that's the house I bought for “our” wedding.
By the way, how's it going with her?
Not bad. She's a nice girl, even funny in her own way. A little immature, perhaps, but then she's almost ten years younger than me… Why did you become so pensive?
Nothing, it's just that...
Do you want to know how it gets on with her in bed?
No, I don't want to know at all.
Antonia, I can't be with a girl and not take her to bed, don't you think? It would seem a little too strange.
Sure. But I don't think it's a big effort for you, otherwise you wouldn't disguise like that to please her.
She's an attractive girl, why should it be an effort? And what do you mean by disguise?
Look how you've done yourself: Viking-fashion hair, black leather jacket, Gant shirt with regimental bow tie and Chelsea boots on your feet.
Why, they don't look good on me?
It's not that they don't look good on you, it's that this mix seems designed to turn on women, or at least a certain type of women. It's not like you, Michael.
Speaking of disguising, she really enjoys disguising, you know? Every time it's like going to bed with a different woman. Yesterday for example...
That's enough, Michael: I told you I don't want to know. I feel like I'm spying on you through a keyhole, I find it inappropriate and disgusting.
Well, disgusting even...
Disgusting, yes.
Anyway, this has nothing to do with love: it's just a pleasant pastime.
You said you didn't believe in love, Michael. You said you preferred affection.
And that's exactly how it is, Antonia: but, just as you can't love on command, you can't feel affection on command. Instead, you can have sex on command, or at least I can. It's like riding a bicycle.
Match point.
I see. It's getting late: they'll be waiting for you for dinner and then you'll have to go cycling with Laura, I suppose. That's why you're dressed like this, it's the ideal clothing for cycling. Go ahead, I won't keep you.