Lila, who continued to look in my direction as if she were monitoring me, was the first to see that kiss and she clapped her hands with spontaneous enthusiasm. Michele, too, applauded, laughing, and Stefano gave his brother a vulgar compliment, which was immediately expanded on by the metal merchant. All sorts of banter, in other words, but Marisa pretended not to notice. Squeezing Alfonso’s hand tightly—her knuckles were white—she hissed at Gino, who had stared at the kiss with a blank expression, “Now get out of here, or I’ll smack you.”
The pharmacist’s son got up without saying a word and went back to his table, where his girlfriend immediately whispered in his ear with an aggressive look. Marisa gave them both a last glance of contempt.
From that moment my opinion of her changed. I admired her courage, the stubborn capacity for love, the seriousness of her attachment to Alfonso. Here was another person I’ve neglected, I thought with regret, and wrongly so. How much my dependence on Lila had closed my eyes. How frivolous her applause had been, how it fit with the boorish amusement of Michele, of Stefano, of the metal merchant.
The second episode had as its protagonist Lila herself. The reception was now almost over. I had gotten up to go to the bathroom and was passing the bridal table when I heard the wife of the metal merchant laughing loudly. I turned. Pinuccia was standing and was shielding herself, because the woman was pulling up her wedding dress, baring her large, strong legs, and saying to Stefano, “Look at your sister’s thighs, look at that butt and that stomach. You men of today like girls who resemble toilet brushes, but it’s the ones like our Pinuccia whom God made just for bearing you children.”
Lila, who was bringing a glass to her mouth, without a second’s hesitation threw the wine in her face and on her silk dress. As usual, I thought, immediately anxious, she thinks she’s entitled to do anything, and now all hell’s going to break loose. I went out to the bathroom, locked myself in, stayed there as long as possible. I didn’t want to see Lila’s fury, I didn’t want to hear it. I wanted to stay outside it, I was afraid of being dragged into her suffering, I was afraid of feeling obligated, out of long habit, to ally myself with her. Instead, when I came out, everything was calm. Stefano was chatting with the metal merchant and his wife, who was sitting stiffly in her stained dress. The orchestra played, couples danced. Only Lila wasn’t there. I saw her outside the glass doors, on the terrace. She was looking at the sea.
39.
I was tempted to join her, I immediately changed my mind. She must be very upset and would surely be mean to me, which would make things even worse between us. I decided to return to my table when Fernando, her father, came up to me and asked timidly if I’d like to dance.
I didn’t dare refuse, we danced a waltz in silence. He led me confidently around the room, among the tipsy couples, holding my hand too tight with his sweaty hand. His wife must have entrusted him with the task of telling me something important, but he couldn’t get up his courage. Finally, at the end of the waltz, he muttered, addressing me, surprisingly, with formality: “If it’s not too much trouble for you, talk to Lina a little, her mother is worried.” Then he added awkwardly, “When you need shoes, come by, don’t stand on ceremony,” and he returned quickly to his table.
That hint at a kind of reward for my possibly devoting time to Lila bothered me. I asked Alfonso and Marisa to go, which they were happy to do. I felt Nunzia’s gaze on me right up until we left the restaurant.
