sovereign. They did their utmost to dissuade him, but to no avail. Then the king went to meet him. The old man showered him with praise, telling him that he was very handsome, and that everyone in the kingdom was pleased to have him as sovereign. He had brought the king a gift: a melon. The king detested melons, but to be polite to the old man, he accepted it, thanked him, and the old man departed happily. The king went back inside the palace and handed the fruit to the servants, so that they might toss it into the garden.
'The next week, at the same hour, there was another knock on the door. The king was summoned once again, and the beggar lauded him, offering him another melon. The king accepted it, saluted the old man, and, once again, tossed the melon into the garden. The scene was repeated for sundry weeks: the king was too polite to affront the old man or to scorn the generosity of his gift.
'Then, one evening, just when the old man was about to deliver the melon to the king, an ape leapt down from a portico and caused the fruit to fall from his hands. The melon broke into a thousand pieces against the facade of the palace. When the king looked, he saw a shower of diamonds fall from the heart of the melon. Anxiously, he ran to the garden behind the palace: all the melons had turned into mounds of jewels.'
I stopped her, excited by the beautiful story, and said, 'Can I infer the moral?'
She smiled and said, 'Of course.'
I took a deep breath, just as I do whenever I get ready to repeat a lesson at school. 'Sometimes inconvenient situations, problems, or difficulties conceal opportunities for growth; very often in the heart of difficulties shines the light of a precious jewel. It is therefore wise to welcome what is inconvenient and difficult.'
She smiled again, stroked my hair, and said, 'You've grown, little one. You're a princess.'
I wanted to weep, but I restrained myself. My mother didn't know that, for me, the king's diamonds had been the crude bestiality of boorish men incapable of love.
20 May
Today the Prof came to meet me again outside school. I was waiting for him: I gave him a letter in which I enclosed a particular pair of panties.
I am these panties. They describe me best, curiously designed with a dangling ribbon on each side. To whom could they belong, if not some Lolita?
Yet they don't simply belong to me; they
I happen to have worn them often when I made love, perhaps never with you, but that doesn't matter. The ribbons hold back my impulses and my senses; they are the ties that, apart from leaving a mark on my skin, restrain my feelings. Imagine my body wearing nothing but these panties. If one knot is untied, only one of my spirits is released: Sensuality. The spirit of Love is still impeded by the other knot. Thus, whoever has untied my Sensuality will see only the woman, the girl, or generically the female, capable of receiving sex, nothing more. He possesses only half of me, and it is probably what I want on most occasions. When someone unties only the knot of Love, I shall give another part of me, a part that is small but deep. Then the day may come when my jailer arrives, offering me the keys to release both of my spirits: Sensuality and Love are set free and take wing. You feel good, free and satisfied, and your mind and body no longer ask for anything, no longer torment you with their requests. Like a tender secret, they are freed by a hand that knows how to caress you, that knows how to make you throb, and they glow at the mere thought of that hand.
Now smell that part of me which lies exactly in the center between Love and Sensuality: it is my Soul, which seeps through my fluids.
You were right when you told me I was born to screw. As you see, my Soul too wishes to be desired and gives off its smell, the female smell. Perhaps the hand that freed my spirits is yours, Prof.
I daresay only your sense of smell could fathom my fluids, my Soul. Don't scold me for saying this, Prof, if I go too far. I feel I must do it because at least in the future I won't regret losing an opportunity before grasping it. This thing creaks inside me like a door that needs to be oiled; its noise is deafening. When we are with you, in your arms, my panties and I are free of any impediment, any chains. Yet the spirits have met a wall in their flight, the horrendous and unjust wall of time, which passes slowly for one, fast for the other, a series of figures that keeps us at arm's length. I hope your mathematical intelligence might offer you some hints on how to solve this terrible equation. But not only this: you recognize only one part of me, even though you have liberated two. And that isn't the part I would like to let live on its own. It's up to you to decide whether to bring about a change in our relationship, whether to make it become more… 'spiritual,' a tad more profound. I put my trust in you.
23 May 3:14 P.M.
Where is Valerio? Why did he leave me without a kiss?
29 May 2002
2:30 A.M.
I weep, Diary, I weep with immense joy. I've always known that joy and happiness do exist. This is something I've sought in so many beds, in so many men, even in a woman, something I've sought in myself and then forfeited. And now I've found it in the most anonymous and ordinary of places. Not in a person, but in a person's eyes. Along with Giorgio and some others I went to the new cafe that just opened right near my house, about fifty meters from the sea. It's an Arab place with belly dancers who gyrate round the tables when they're not serving. There are pillows on the floor, carpets, candles, incense. It was packed, so we decided to wait till a table was free and we could sit down. I was leaning against a streetlight, thinking about a phone call from Fabrizio. It had ended badly: I told him I didn't want anything from him and never want to see him again.
He started crying and said he'd given me everything, by which he meant: money, money, and more money.
'If this is how you treat people, I don't have to take it. But thanks for the offer, all the same,' he shouted ironically. I hung up on him. I didn't answer any more of his calls and won't ever, I swear. I hate that man: he's a worm, a scumbag, I won't give myself to him again.
I was thinking about all this and about Valeric I was frowning, and my eyes were fixed on some unspecified point. Then, as I was turning away from those irksome thoughts, my gaze met his: who knows how long he was watching me. He was gentle and sweet. I looked at him, and he looked at me, at very brief intervals. We would turn away, but our eyes couldn't help but pounce on each other again. His were deep and sincere, and this time I wasn't deluding myself by creating absurd fantasies about wanting to be hurt or punished. This time I really believed what was happening, I saw his eyes, they were there, staring at me, and they seemed to be saying they wanted to love me, wanted to get to know me better. I began to look more carefully at him. He was sitting with his legs crossed, a cigarette in his hand. His lips were fleshy, his nose slightly pronounced but impressive, and he had the eyes of an Arab prince. He was offering something to me, me alone. He wasn't looking at any other girl, he was looking at me, and not the way men usually look at me on the street, but sincerely and honestly. I don't know what motivated me to do it, but I let out a laugh that was too loud. I couldn't contain myself. I felt so intensely happy I couldn't limit myself to a smile. Giorgio was watching me, amused; he asked me what was up. With a wave I signaled he shouldn't worry and hugged him to justify my sudden explosion. I turned around again and noticed the prince was smiling, offering me a glimpse of his splendid white teeth. It was then that I calmed down and told myself, 'Don't forget, Melissa, scare him off. Make him see you're an idiot, a defective, an ignoramus. And above all do it now: don't make him wait!
While I was thinking this, a girl passed by him and stroked his hair. He looked at her for no more than an instant, then shifted over a bit to get a better look at me.
Giorgio distracted me: 'Meli, let's go somewhere else. My stomach's rumbling; don't make me wait any longer.'
'Come on, Giorgio, another ten minutes,' I responded. 'You'll see, something will open up.' I didn't want to part with those eyes.
'Why are you so keen to stay here? Got your eye on some guy?'
I smiled and nodded.
He sighed and said, 'We've had a long talk about this, Melissa. Chill out for a while; nice things happen by themselves.'
