Look a little more to the left… More cross-eyed, if you can, it gives you an absurd charm. Give me a smile like when you see a salmon crossing the road at the bus stop.
What if the salmon ends up under the bus?
Of course it ends there, otherwise why would you smile? Perfect, stop like this…
Gianni, you're a sadist.
Just a little.
But why are we here in your studio today instead of the usual extravagant places you like? Parks, castles, ruins, monuments, deserted churches…
God, how naive you are: it's called “locations”, not “places”.
Okay, in the usual locations. Are we not going there anymore?
No, we're not going anymore. We're done for today, honey, you can get dressed.
Already?
Yes, already.
Okay, I'm getting dressed.
(Silence)
How much do I owe you for the service, Gianni? The usual?
No, not today. Today is free, on me.
But why?
Because it's the last time.
What?... It's a joke, right?
No, honey, it's not a joke.
I mean, what do you mean last time?
I mean last. Finish. The end.
But Gianni… we just started, the magazines are just starting to publish my photos, I mean yours, and you want to leave me in the lurch?… Come on, I don't believe it, it's a joke: an April Fool's joke, huh?
I told you I'm not kidding.
I don't understand... Did I do something wrong? I've always paid what you asked me to, I don't think I've disappointed you or offended you in any way... Am I really that bad of a photomodel?
No love, you're perfect. You break the screen.
So what?
Sit down, little sparrow. Would you like a drink?
I… I don't know… what are you offering me?
An Irish Coffee.
Would be?
A cocktail made with Irish whiskey, long hot American coffee and a teaspoon of brown sugar. You would also need cream, but I don't have any in the fridge. I'll make it for you right away.
Thanks, but…
Don't argue, it's necessary.
…
So, how is it?
Very good, Gianni. You are really good at making cocktails, not just photos.
Yeah. I need them to cheer me up in times like this.
Gianni, for God's sake, will you tell me what's happening?
Oh, nothing much. I just have ethics, even if they are well hidden, and so I must say goodbye.
But why, good God? Why?
You don't guess, you little piggy face?
No, I can't guess at all , I don't have a piggy face and I'm not in the mood for riddles. I hope you're not sick or something.
Not physically ill: I am in more than fair health.
You take a weight off my mind, believe me: the rest can't be anything so serious, we'll get to the bottom of it. I was starting to earn quite well, if you want I'll pay you more.
You are completely off track, my little chick: what you gave me is more than enough.
Well then I just don't understand. Please, Gianni, I need your help: I've never told you, but I have a one-year-old son and I absolutely must contribute to his maintenance.
Come on! My marmot gave birth to a baby marmot?
Yes.
How sweet! And with whom, if I may ask? A female, I suppose.
Gianni, this is not the time to explain to you the whys and wherefores. I mean, I was really counting on you, and I don't understand why you're turning your back on me now. What have I done wrong?
Nothing. That smile, maybe. Or that goose-like look. Or your skin. Or those flamingo legs. Or the nonsense you say. Or the kingfisher feathers. I don't know, it's up to you.
So, am I really a disaster?
No, you're not a disaster. Unfortunately, you're an adorable little otter boy, and I can't help but love otters madly. You know when they roll around in the water splashing each other? Or when they slide in the snow to forget their hunger, while those boring beavers eat the supplies they've accumulated during the summer?
Yeah, but what the fuck does that have to do with anything? Sorry, I still don't understand.
Oh, but you're slow on the uptake then: do I really have to tell you to your face?
Yeah, I think so.
My little marmot, I'm in love with you.
(Twenty seconds of silence)
Gianni, I…
Yes I know, it's not your fault etc. etc. Unfortunately it happens. Life is unfair, honey, and so this is the last time we'll see each other.
Wait, Gianni, there must be a solution: let's not rush things.
What solution do you want there to be for a broken heart? Glue? You see, I know that I am not reciprocated and I would never do anything to force you: I am a gentleman. So there is no solution. I let you go and that's it. End of discussion.
But I don't want to leave!
You have to.
Gianni, I've become very fond of you during this period...
Yes, I know you love me a little, and I thank you. But I'm talking about something completely different: I dream about you at night, I've lost my appetite, I get tachycardia when I think of you, I can't wait to see you again, these little things here. And Massimiliano wants to leave me.
Who is Massimiliano?
My current partner, darling. He's a famous painter, obviously modern painting, the kind that people don't understand a thing about but pretend to understand so as not to be out. He says that at night I pronounce your name in my sleep, I rave about marmots and caribou, and on top of that I get the geographical location wrong: I place marmots in Liguria and caribous in Monferrato. During the day he finds me distracted and apathetic, I dress salad with Vaseline, and well, my little beaver, we really need to cut it out.
I understand, Gianni. But why beaver? Wasn't I an otter?
Yes, you're right: you see that I'm losing my mind? The fact is that even male beavers have their reasons, only I can't allow myself to fall in love left and right with all the little furry animals.
I'm so sorry, believe me, but I understand. I understand above all that I have an uncommon bad luck.
Why do you say that?
Because it's the story of my whole life: as soon as someone falls in love with me, they throw me out of their life. It seems that loving me is something unbearable.
It is, in fact: it makes you feel terrible, it's like when you're at the opening of an exhibition you don't give a shit about and your shoes are too tight. You can't wait to take them off, those shoes, and put on the usual, horrible cloth slippers you use to watch TV.
Well, it's not my fault, Gianni! I can't do anything about it. It's not fair, it's really not fair that you always make me pay for something that doesn't depend on me!
I know, baby, but tight shoes are torture, that's an indisputable fact. And since I love you, here's the business card of Guido Serrani, a fashion photographer friend of mine, a very good one and strictly straight: he fucks female models, he's happy like this... I've already told him about you, he'll be waiting for you next week.
Thanks Gianni, I have no intention of going there.
Why not?
Because I enjoyed being with you. I am the pair of old slippers you want to get rid of, not the shoes that are too tight… Who knows how many other nice new shoes you have at your disposal, but of those, who knows why, you don't want to get rid of.
The thing is, the other new shoes don't make me feel hot or cold, they're just cute. Disposable. You, on the other hand, stir something inside me, and that's not right.
Sure, right: and I should believe it too. The truth is that you don't give a shit about me. About me as a person, I mean. I hate being a model, I only did it because you were the one taking my picture, damn it, and you throw me out the door...
Now you're making me cry, little marmot. But enough with the sentimentality, work is work: sleep on it, you'll see that tomorrow you'll think differently and you'll call my friend Guido.
I don't think so, but thanks anyway.
I'm not asking you to give me a kiss, little face, but let's pretend so.
I really do, Gianni. Let's at least part with a hug.
Like real men, huh?
Like real men.
…
(Later, at Carlos and Mayra's house)
Couraje Prinsy, don't cry: you'll see that you'll get along well with this Guido too.
No Mayra. I don't plan on going, I'm done with this job.
But you were starting to earn good money, Prince.
I know, Carlos, but the disappointment is too strong. I had grown fond of that imbecile and I was convinced that he was fond of me too.
He had become very fond of you: too fond, I would say.
Not in that fucking sense. I mean fond like a friend, a father, a brother…
Of course Manu, you're right. I understand very well that you feel bad, and Bela understands it too: look how she wags her tail. And Gatu Felipe also looks at you as if he understands.
Bella wags her tail because she loves me, and you two love me too, and your cat understands me because he has suffered too. It's called solidarity. I don't want anything else in life right now, I've had enough of doors slamming me in the face.
All right, but there's no need to make a big deal out of it. I think you're exaggerating a bit, huh! Here, drink this beer: it's a Trappist, wheat beer, your kind.
I don't feel like drinking beer right now, but I'll try it. Thanks, it's good.
It's true that you feel too bad about it, Manu: he was just your photographer, not your boyfriend...
Mayra, you should know that I care about my friends. They are important to me.
Okay, but no, he wasn't your friend: he was someone who took photos for money, Manu.
No, he wasn't just that.
Well, my sister is right: a friend is not a guy who gets paid. There was no friendship with him.
I was convinced so.
You were wrongly convinced. And in any case you have to accept it. What are these whinings? You sound like a three-year-old who lost his favorite toy.
Carlos, I just…
Yes, Prinsy, you're exaggerating a little: it seems like the one in love is you, not him.
Mayra, I didn't expect this from you. You disappoint me a lot. Sorry guys, I'm very tired and I want to go home right away.
But no Manu, stay here, don't get in the car so tired... Sorry if I said something that bothered you, I understand that you were really upset.
Come on, Prince, cheer up: sooner or later the desire to take photos will return, you'll see.
Definitely not the desire, Carlos. There will never be a relationship of trust and friendship like with Gianni. He was fun, surreal, he made me feel at ease: I went there willingly. If I do it again, I will only do it for the money, because the plant nursery still doesn't make enough.
But today we sold some roses to Mrs. Bròsoli, and she said she's bringing us some of her friends too. And then we also sold some jerani and surfinie, and they asked us for some fruit trees.
That we don't have, Mayra: we have to get them as soon as possible. Let's hope we're still in time, the season is already quite advanced.
Already done, Manu: I ordered them right away.
Very good: I don't know what I would do without you.
How about a game of cards before dinner, Prince?
Yeah, that's fine. Get out the cards.
…
You didn't eat much, Manu. Would you like another slice of cake?
Maybe a little slice. But a very little one.
Very very little.
(Cell phone rings)
I told you to put your phone down when you eat, Prins: that way you'll never be able to stay calm.
Can you pass it to me, Carlos? It's over there on the dresser.
Here.
Wait, can you see the number? Just to know if I should answer.
No, it's hidden: it says "private number".
What a drag… Give it to me. Hello!
I got a commission from Switch Magazine, some crazy glam stuff. See you next week, okay?
(Ten seconds of silence.)
Gianni…
Yes, little mouse?
Definitely not a mouse, huh.
This time we have to break the bank: I thought of a steampunk outfit in a post-industrial setting, some abandoned factory with all the broken glass and rusty iron everywhere. Rusty iron is incredibly photogenic.
Gianni, fuck you.
Now what are you doing to me, the offended one? What's that snobbish tone of a repressed convent schoolgirl? Aside from the fact that convent schoolgirls don't say fuck.
Wait, I'm going to the other room.
Oh, you're not alone?
No.
Are you with a man?
It's none of your business. (Covering the microphone) Guys, excuse me, I need to talk in private for a moment. Do you mind if I go to the bedroom?
Go ahead, Prinsy, I'll clear the table in the meantime.
Go, go…
(From the room)
What the fuck is wrong with you? You told me it was the last time.
Well, what do you want it to be? You told me a lot of nonsense too, but I didn't take it seriously.
Gianni, you fucking bitch, I'm hanging up the phone.
Are you really going to hang up the phone?
Yes, really.
Then do it, right? What are you waiting for?
I've been feeling sick all day.
Were you really sick?
You're an asshole.
Can't we make peace, my little rat?
No, we can't, for the simple fact that we never argued. You did it all by yourself, you decided that you were in love, that you couldn't see me anymore, that it was the last time, and then here you are again as if nothing had happened. And I'm not a little rat.
Yes you are: all you're missing is the tail. Anyway, I resisted for eight hours, then I decided that's enough.
But what's enough?
Being idiots, okay?
Speak in the singular, Gianni: I have never been an idiot with you.
All right, I admit my wrong. Do you forgive me?
It's not about forgiving. I... I don't understand at all what your intentions are, that's it.
Nothing in particular: just keep taking pictures, if you like.
Let me get this straight: so you want everything to go back to the way it was before?
Yes, everything as before: the usual marmot routine. It's not that fur animals are particularly original. So, see you next Wednesday?
I… yes, I think so.
Do you think so? Are you not sure?
But Gianni, how can I be sure after what you told me this morning?
My God, what could I have said that was so terrible? Come on, let's put it behind us.
And your falling in love?
Eh, I think it's already passed.
Gianni, you are…
And what are you doing now, are you crying or laughing?
I don't know. I hate you enough right now.
That's a gay phrase, you know?
Yes I know.
Well, I'd say that's a good starting point.
I wish I was gay, believe me: for me it would be better from several points of view.
Really? For me, it would make little or no difference, little sparrow: I did some soul-searching and discovered that I have one.
Meaning what?
I mean, it's not your lovely little bottom that I want: it would feel like I was violating something sacred. Excuse the old-fashioned term, but I don't know how else to describe that certain something that you inspire in me: it's like a slightly nauseating perfume, something halfway between jasmine and lily of the valley, the kind that makes you go crazy if you smell it too much, and well, it's not like when I see a flowering bush I get this urge to have sex with it. My God, I'd feel ridiculous.
What you just told me is very nice, you know?
Yes? I don't know, maybe. In any case, I have decided that my role towards you will be that of a guardian angel. Under my guidance, you can do havoc, little rabbit: you and I can really set everything on fire.
Thank you, Gianni, I don't want to set fire to anything: I'm happy to earn a little money and be with you. When I'm with you I forget everything, I enter a kind of magical world outside of time.
That's exactly how it should be. I'll be expecting you on Wednesday at the usual time, darling. May I kiss you goodnight? Like a good little mummy, on the forehead or the tip of your little nose.
Okay, come on. Good night.
(He hangs up and goes back into the room.)
Everything okay, guys.
Everything okay what?
Gianni has already forgotten that he fell in love with me, so everything is fine.
Are you kidding me?
No, Carlos: it's the pure truth.
And do you believe it?
Why not? Gianni is crazy, so it is very possible that things are like this.
And are you okay with that, after what he told you today?
Yes, I’m okay with that.
You are completely stupid, Prince.
I know.
Prinsy, what's wrong? You're so weird, your hands are shaking.
I'm a little shaken, Mayra, but with a good night's sleep it will all go away.
I really hope so… Aren't you staying with us?
No thanks, guys: I feel like taking a long car ride with Bella.
Where?
I don't know, just randomly, up and down the hills. See you tomorrow!
Good night, Prince.
Bon noti, Manu…