Timing is not one of the merits I recognize in Antonia: she has the gift of always choosing the least opportune moment to talk to me about serious matters, or those that seem so to her.

I am convinced that almost all of her problems arise from her lack of synthetic aptitude, from her tendency to reserve excessive attention to details, from the imbalance between the much time she gives to thought and the little she devotes to action: this attitude will not only hinder her in any kind of career, including the university one that she unrealistically embarked on, but risks compromising her own perception of reality. I already know that my life next to her will be animated by useless existential jolts, the result of the ghosts of her hyperactive mind that does not find adequate outlet in daily practice. And this brings me back to the question that I am often asked and that I ask myself: why her? Why not one of the many high-ranking girls who frequent our villa and do nothing to hide their availability towards me?

The answer, in part, is obvious: none of those girls is there for me. If I were a worker and rode on a Fiat Panda, not one of them would give me a look. I know this is normal in my environment, but I want to decide what is normal for me. In any case, that's not all, obviously, but explaining the rest is not easy: I myself don't fully understand what binds me to Antonia.

Many people consider her a social climber, but it is a myopic judgment, which does not take into account some elements known only to me. When I met her she didn't know anything about my financial condition: I met her by chance at the university bookstore while I was looking for an art book for my mother and she, who was consulting Greek books for her doctoral thesis, helped me to find it; then and there I only saw a nice red-haired girl, with long elegant legs, and nothing more: no love at first sight, nothing like falling in love. Let's say that I felt a typically male interest in her. We had a chat at the bar opposite and I took her home, strictly on foot: the BMW would have betrayed me. Too late I realized that I was wearing my gold Rolex: I took it off at the bar, with the excuse of going to the bathroom. In short, nothing could make her think that I was the son of an industrialist.

I never invited her to my house and at the restaurant I always agreed to pay fifty-fifty, as she wanted. When I went to pick her up, I used my mother's city car. I took her to the cinema, or to the mountains, or to some public swimming pool: at the beginning it was more of a curiosity, I wanted to understand what kind of person was that girl wearing masculine jackets over fifties full skirts, a mix that I find particularly erotic. It was not difficult, I confess, to get her to bed: she gave in almost immediately, which from my point of view did not prove in her favor. I didn't think about making her my life partner at all, I just liked hanging out with her.

Then it happened that for a few weeks it was not possible to see each other, due to a whole series of setbacks related to my work: we lost contact and we no longer looked for each other. I didn't worry about it at all, I didn't even think about going back to look for her; but after a while I realized that I couldn't distract myself with the occasional girls I replaced her with. I was bored.

A few weeks later, with a cheek that I didn't think belonged to me, since I'm generally a very direct type, I redialed her number and greeted her with a very sporty "Hey there", as if nothing had happened: she answered me with icy formal tone and hung up almost immediately.

Well, at that point I had to stop and reflect: I realized that it was I who lost several points in her eyes; there was no reason why she would want to deal with some asshole again who had slept with her and then dumped her without so much as an apology, especially since she might think I was a wimp, with which was not worth wasting any more time.

It was very difficult to regain her trust: it took me over a month to get her to date me again. In the meantime, I cut off all relations with the other girls, because I knew that otherwise the story with Antonia would be over before it even started.

All this has nothing to do with the great love of my father and my mother, and I add: fortunately. Mostly the so-called great loves are a source of unnecessary suffering. I would not be able to love any woman in that way, passion is foreign to my way of being. The waste of time and energy that it entails is inconceivable to me; spending time suffering from an unhealthy relationship is a luxury that I cannot afford, not to mention that I consider it a truly miserable behavior: there are too many important things to do in life.

After a few months, finally, I decided to bring Antonia to our house and I introduced her to my parents. She was pretty and elegant that day, she had worn a powder blue suit for the occasion that looked great on her. As soon as she saw the large wrought iron gate that gives access to the avenue of our hillside villa, she suddenly fell silent; in the whole afternoon she could have pronounced ten words, replying in monosyllables to the pleasantries of my parents; at a certain point she turned to me and looked at me with hatred: it was clear that she couldn't wait to leave. I drove her home.

During the journey she did not say a single word, remaining with her arms folded; then, arriving in front of the modest door of her suburban building, she burst into tears and angrily told me that she never wanted to see me again. She felt betrayed and made fun of. I hugged her very tightly in my arms, but she pushed me back with all her might, even kicking and punching me. When I managed to tame her a little, I explained the meaning of my behavior: I wanted to be sure that she really wanted me and not my economic condition. This immediately calmed her down, because she felt taken seriously. I tried to make it up to her in some way, but it wasn't easy: pride is the dominant trait of Antonia's character.

This episode gave me the certainty that I really wanted her, although I did not understand exactly why: I only knew that from another woman I would not be able to bear such rash behavior, I would have judged her a crazy hysteric.

I do not deny that my parents were rather perplexed by my choice, but I have never allowed them to interfere with my personal sphere. After all, they have nothing to complain about me, I have always done my best to be a good son and a support for the whole family.

A few months later we officially got engaged; Antonia immediately informed me of her intention to continue working after the wedding, although it is not at all necessary, and I respect her choices, even the loser ones. Her willingness to make it on her own inspires me tenderness in an environment like the university one, where if you don't have the right support you won't go anywhere; and she does not have any support: she is a girl of modest origins and too proud to submit to humiliating conditions. I would like to be able to help her, but in the literary world I don't know anyone: I have a degree in economics and commerce. I manage to make her as serene as possible, at least guaranteeing her to be able to take care of her favorite activities in the future without the worry of having to support herself, but her soul is too restless and dissatisfied to be happy. I endure her recurring crises with resignation, without indulging in any psychoanalytic complacency: Antonia, to feel well, would need a systematic exercise of rational simplification, and I probably would be the right person for this, if I had only her to think. Unfortunately this is not the case: the situation is becoming worrying.

My father is close to retirement and there are several urgencies to face: our factory of fabrics for car upholstery, like the whole textile sector in the Biella area, is heavily affected by the crisis in the Fiat industry. Unlike my father, I am sure that this is not a temporary crisis: it must be framed in a structurally negative long-term trend; in particular, I foresee disastrous consequences after the end of the limitations provided for by the Multifibre Agreement. Competition from developing countries, especially China, will be almost impossible for us small entrepreneurs to face; even now the trend in the European production index is negative, with an average decline of 4.3% per year.

I work until nine in the evening and often after dinner I take stock of the situation with my father: so I don't have much time left for Antonia. But it is also for her that I do it, to guarantee her a future that lives up to her expectations: because Antonia, beyond her distracted appearance, is rather sensitive to the material aspects of existence, and has not yet realized that I am her only chance of securing a decent standard of living. If she understood it, she would avoid creating unnecessary problems to me.

Today, for example, despite knowing that I have to meet the accountant at six to try to resolve an embarrassing problem of tax arrears, she insisted on seeing me at all costs. I made an appointment for four thirty in Piazza San Carlo, at our usual bar. 

My mind is already at the accountant's when I enter the place and find her sitting at a table, pouring herself some tea. As soon as she sees me, she smiles and holds out her hand to me. I bend down to kiss her cheek and sit down; I order a coffee.

I wait patiently for ten minutes for her to decide to speak, but she prevaricates: I continue to look at the clock in secret; in the end I break the delay:

- Honey, sorry if I interrupt you, but we only have twenty minutes at our disposal, after which I will be forced to leave you here to arrive on time for the appointment. So, if you have something to tell me, do it now.

She hesitates. I try to joke:

- Anyway, whatever it is, we'll have plenty of time to talk about it tonight at my house, in a much more intimate atmosphere.

I touch her thigh under the table, running my fingers along the black line of the sock. I feel her shiver.

- That's exactly what I wanted to talk to you about, Michele. We won't be able to see each other for a few days.

- Why?

- My mother is not feeling well and in the evening I would prefer to stay at home to keep her company.

- What's wrong with Mom?

- Nothing serious, do not worry: it's just that the flu out of season leaves bad aftermath. She has a terrible cough and feels very weak.

- Say hello to her for me, and if there is any problem call me. I know several specialists.

She is silent for a few seconds.

- Something wrong, Antonia?

- Nothing, I'm just a little shaken because of a bad story that happened to a friend of mine.

- One I know?

- No. She's a college colleague of mine.

- What happened to her?

- She was raped by a friend.

I burst out laughing.

- Raped?

- I don't understand what you find to laugh about.

- Sorry love, but if she herself says he was a friend, it is evident that she was not raped.

- More than anything else, it is evident that he was not a friend.

- And it is equally evident that she knew it. Aren't you hot in that turtleneck sweater?

- No, on the contrary, I'm cold.

- Are you sure you're okay? - I touch her forehead - I think you have some lines of fever. Maybe you got the flu too.

- I'm fine, don't worry. Why do you say she knew?

- Where did it happen?

- At his house.

- Then you see I'm right: it's not a hooligan who treacherously attacked her. She agreed to go to his house.

- Sure, for a drink.

- Mistake: to have a drink you go to the bar.

- But he forced her!

Her cheeks are mottled with red, almost certainly she has caught the flu even if she says no. I shouldn't make her shake like that. I look at my watch and shrug.

- All right, love, let's give Brutus what is Brutus's.

- Are you kidding me?

- I mean, let's give the brute his share of responsibility. But, if you don't mind, your friend is jointly responsible for what happened to her and I do not exclude that in some way she caused it. Gender equality implies a woman's ability to assume her responsibilities, otherwise she is still a minor and in need of protection, regardless of age and sex.

- What do you mean?

- I mean that your friend acted very lightly. And then, if it was violence, why doesn't she report the rapist?

Antonia is silent.

- Anyway, love, I don't see why the case of a friend of yours should involve you so much.

- Because such a thing can happen to everyone.

- This really no: a girl with her head on her neck does not put herself in certain situations. Anyway, to be concrete, the important thing is to limit the damage: I hope your friend has taken her precautions to avoid an unwanted pregnancy.

- Of course she took them.

- And that the raping friend was healthy. You know, you risk AIDS with certain levies.

- He's not a frivolous type.

- And maybe he's handsome too.

- Yes, he is.

- I am increasingly convinced that your friend does not mind the experience. Anyway, at this point, I don't see the problem.

- My friend is engaged.

- In this case, she should keep her boyfriend in the dark about it. If he's jealous and violent, your friend takes some serious risk.

- I don't think he is.

- Maybe, but in any case their relationship is bound to suffer. I am neither jealous nor possessive, you know: I admit I can make mistakes and I admit that others can make mistakes too, but no matter how much I try to be rational and tolerant, such a thing would not please me at all; in fact, to be honest, I don't know how I would react. Therefore, you better keep quiet.

- I better?

- She better.

- The fact is that she feels deeply humiliated, she can no longer have respect for herself. And she can no longer be touched by any man.

I smile, give her a kiss on the forehead and get up.

- Well honey, this is really her business. Now I'm sorry, I'm late at the accountant. Talk to you tonight. Say hello to mom, and if you need anything, please...

I mention the gesture of calling. I pat her face and run to pay the bill for both of us.

Only later, while driving through city traffic, I realize that she has not responded to my greeting. But it is typical of Antonia to have these sudden bad moods, destined to pass like summer storms. I don't notice, also because, as I had expected, I am damn late.