the Grey - Chapter III - Chiara pt.1
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The yellow sphere turns red, just a few fingers above the horizon. The calm sea prepares to embrace it. My eyes hurt as I lose myself in it, but I am helpless, cannot let it go. I breathe, and a sense of calm washes over me. I see myself flying over the water in the distance, swift as a gull skimming the surface. Far from here. Free. Unbound. Without any land to anchor me. On the threshold. Never surrendered. Never captured.
Ah, but I do see it, the silver thread pulling me. Tied to my navel. It stretches from the farthest horizon to deep within me. It spreads this warm, unfamiliar sensation. It rises to my chest, opening it wide. Her face appears at its center. I’m blinded by the sun. My vision is filled with black spots burned into my retina. They block me from seeing her. I want to. I could if I focused enough. Frustration builds. I want to sing for you. To sing a hymn to all that you are.
I feel a little ashamed of this thought. I never imagined myself this way. I thought I was above it, capable of mastering every whim of the heart, controlling it effortlessly from the command center of my rational mind. And I can, there’s no doubt. I can control it whenever I want. But for now, I want to dive into it for a moment. To feel what it’s like. To test its hold on me. Because yes, it’s a beautiful feeling. That much I admit. No longer the cold emptiness of vacant halls, the echo of solitary thoughts in my mind. Instead, a gentle fire, a point that draws attention, returning tender vibrations. For a while, I want to warm myself in its glow.
I tell myself, be careful, don’t get too close, the fire burns. But I know all too well that fire burns. And for the duration of this sunset, for the span of this late summer, I deserve it. I can explore it. It won’t corrupt the solid foundation of my intellect. It couldn’t.
I want to sing. I want to play.
I grip the neck of my bass, its five strings. I see it gleaming in the soft light, dotted with droplets of sun. It, too, is an anchor of certainty. A talisman that makes me feel safe, grounded in my world. The familiar click of the amplifier’s switch. The hum that grows as the tubes warm up. I lean into it as I wait for the right moment. I laugh at myself, at my predictability. I’ve wanted to do this for a while. The afternoon effort of hauling the cabinet and head up the stairs to the terrace. The tedium of finding a cable long enough to plug into the outlet. It was all preordained in my mind. Only later did I rationalize it, the why behind all this seemingly pointless preparation.
Pointless it is not, if it has a purpose.
I grit my teeth. Is this for me, or is it for you? It’s for me, certainly.
I won’t admit it if it isn’t so.
All I know is that I want to make this cabinet sing for you, tonight, in this mild evening air.
The warmth spreads through the amplifier head. I peek inside and see the blue reflections on the glass of the power tubes. It’s ready. The preamp gain is set to seven, just on the verge of distortion; the power amp at three, or else the windows would rattle. My goal is only to project beyond the gate.
The sun is in my face again. I check the tuning. The terrace floor vibrates gently, resonating with the chords like a soundboard.
Perfect. My left hand relaxes on the neck, my right wrist bent over the bridge.
I take a deep breath. My back arches. The breath escapes; I relax. Her image, Chiara, her back to me, fills the space behind my eyes.
The sound emerges from the speakers, and I lose myself in it. I think of nothing.
She sat on one of the benches, hunched forward. Her chin rested on her hands, elbows propped on knees. An expression of resignation and boredom. Her thoughts were on him, the yearning to see him, to hear him. The memory of his scent, the warmth of his presence. She imagined placing her hands on his arms, feeling him close. Talking. Asking how he was, what he was thinking. Simply spending some time together. She bit her lower lip, wondering when he would come, if he would come at all, here, to the square, among everyone.
Near her, the group of friends had dispersed into small clusters, chattering and laughing loudly. She watched them absently, letting time drift. Occasionally, her eyes flicked toward the gate of Luca’s villa, hoping to catch some sign of movement, always in vain. A vague sense of frustration rose within her, creeping from her stomach to her throat. Tension mixed with excitement, a bitter awareness of time slipping through her fingers. How much more could they have drawn from every second if they’d spent it together? A knot tightened in her stomach, constricting her breath. Her leg muscles felt taut, as if she were holding back an undeserved weariness. She let out a noisy sigh.
“Hey, what’s wrong?” she looked up to see Carlo’s face tilted with concern as he gazed down at her.
“Nothing…” she turned her head away.
“You’re upset because he’s not coming?”
“Eh!” she jerked back, pressing against the bench’s backrest. Her arms folded defensively, her neck shrinking into her shoulders, her gaze pinned to the ground.
Anger clenched her chest tightly, suffocating her. She felt caught, exposed. She exhaled, the shame of her brusqueness settling over her. Turning back to him, she couldn’t mask the sadness in her expression.
“Why does he act like this?” she said softly.
“I don’t know.” Carlo replied, shaking his head and looking toward Luca’s gate. “If I were him, I’d never leave you alone.” A brief pause hung in the air before he resumed speaking quickly, as if trying to erase his previous statement. “I’ve known him forever, but I just don’t understand this behavior. He’s been like this for a while, but something’s definitely changed this summer. I see it, he’s more distant, more detached from reality. Or maybe from us. You know, the group. We’ve always been so tight-knit, and he was always a bit shy and lazy.” Carlo gestured emphatically with his cigarette, the smoke curling into loose blue rings. “But now… now he’s quieter than he’s ever been. It’s maddening!” his voice broke into a frustrated growl.
He flung the cigarette butt far away. His hands stuffed into his pockets, he searched for another topic to continue the conversation, maybe one that wasn’t Luca. But he gave up, unwilling to lose his momentum.
“We used to have so much fun, just him and me. Now, if he even cracks a smile, it’s a miracle.” he placed one foot on the bench and crossed his arms, his face darkened by a somber expression. “But it’s not just me. Ask anyone here, and they’ll tell you, they either have no connection with him or they can’t stand him. Basically, I’m his only friend around here.”
“Stop it.” Chiara’s voice snapped, sharp and firm. “I don’t know what’s gotten into you, but you’re talking about my boyfriend. And clearly…” She stopped herself from saying: ‘he has nothing to say to you if he doesn’t’. Instead, she sighed deeply. “Clearly, he has something important to do if he’s not here. Besides, you know his values are... different. You should just be grateful for his friendship.”
Carlo’s gaze turned severe.
“And what would you know? You’ve only been here for a little over a month!” he retorted tersely.
“I know him better than you do. It’s obvious that after all these years, you’ve only ever known the surface of him. He’s never let you see who he truly is.”
“And you think you know him? After just a few days?”
“It’s not just a few days.” she mimicked his tone mockingly. “He’s opened up to me. I know him. We’re soulmates. I knew it from the very first moment.”
Carlo sneered, his expression laced with irritation.
“You’re delusional. You’re just making up excuses because he’s holed up in his house, doing God knows what instead of being here with you, sharing the summer with his soulmate.” he said, adding air quotes with his fingers.
She shook her head, climbing onto the bench and standing on tiptoes. Her gaze strained toward Luca’s gate, her teeth clenched in frustration. She wanted so badly to prove Carlo wrong, to believe his words were lies. But she could see nothing beyond the tall, tightly spaced green bars. Too high, too close together to grant her a glimpse.
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