BUT YOU LOOK WHO SHE IS

BUT YOU LOOK WHO SHE IS

Pierre ,since he had divorced, about ten years ago, lived alone in a terraced house in the green area of the provincial town where he was born. He lived alone, but he was alone up to a certain point, since he was surrounded with animals: three cats, one dog, one goat, and then chickens, pigeons, geese, canaries and parrots. Yes, because since he was the only one to decide how to live, he had given way to his sympathy for animals. His children, a son and a daughter, were now grown up and they lived in other cities. Pierre saw them very rarely, and not because he was in bad terms with them, but for a certain distance or lack of harmony that, he had to recognize, there had always been with them, even when they were children and theirs had been an united, normal family, as they say.  Pierre did not suffer from loneliness at all, even if he had decided to live a secluded life for the time he had left, with his animals, his garden , and with music and painting too. There also were some people who, well, perhaps he could call friends, with whom he met at the bar, and went to the football matches. While instead he preferred to   travel alone, even on vacation he went alone. At his age, he was over sixty, Pierre did not even remotely think about embarking on a relationship with a woman. But, despite this firm resolution, when the new tenant had arrived in the terraced house opposite to his house, Pierre had felt a jolt, a leap in his heart. That woman was just a little younger, that is, just a little less old than him. She sure was an elegant, well groomed woman, but she didn’t even remotely resemble Sharon Stone or Kim Basingher. No one would have lost their minds looking at her. Yet, after some days she had arrived ( she had settled there), after Pierre had happened to see her two or three times, and after he had asked about her from the other neighbors, he felt as he went back to his twenty years. Since he no longer had any doubt who that elegant, aged lady was. It had been a long time, more than forty years had passed ( had gone by), but Pierre was sure to have recognized her. It was Helen, the pharmacist’s daughter, with whom he had fallen madly in love , at his first year of university. Helen , who was a few year younger than him, lived with her family near Pierre’s house, and he had a terrible crush on that blonde, slender teenager. Pierre saw her and greeted her every day, and sometimes he had happened also to exchange just two words with her, to talk about school, or about the weather…But he had never dared to invite her to have a coffee ,or to go out with him to go to the cinema, or at the theater , or at a concert, even though he would have wanted so much to dare. Yes, because Pierre, who was little more than a boy, (he) felt intimidated, in awe of Helen, above all for the importance, the consideration the girl’s father enjoyed in that provincial town. Manfred C., the Helen’s father, from a family of pharmacists, was one of the most important, most notable men in that town….yeah, then, when Pierre was very young and Helen was the girl of all his dreams. Later he too, the very important Manfred C. had had his dark times, but this had happened much later, when Pierre had his family, lived happy with his wife and his children, and he no longer thought of Helen.

“Oh, but look….look at the surprises life can hold for you…but look” Pierre said to himself, sure, without a shadow of a doubt, that her new neighbor was really she, Helen, that Helen, his terrible crush when he was twenty. “ Ah, then I was not able to invite her to go out with me, oh, I was just a silly boy, a poor silly boy afraid of the importance of her family, of her….very big father, oh, but now I had to fix it!  I have absolutely to invite her out, maybe for a dinner “ He keptm repeating to himself.

Pierre was so sure that the newcomer was she, Helen, that he was also convinced that she too, Helen, had have recognized him.  If , when it happened to see each other, and it happened often, due the proximity of their homes, Helen gave no sign of recognizing him….oh, but this had to depend on her decision to live a little…how to say….to live a little incognito or hidden, after the story of her important father , who had been , first suspected, then investigated, and even tried on charges of being part of what had been called The holding of the Vinci’s monster, a kind of team , or friendship, to which a long series of manic crimes was attributed. Of course, Helen’s venerable father, who had been able to count on top lawyers for his defense, had been acquitted with full  formula, that is, for not having committed the crimes. Oh, and he, Manfred C., after the acquittal had appeared a lot of times on television, in the most varied broadcasts, to tell his misfortune, his judicial vicissitudes and, of course, above all, to claim again that he had nothing to do with the crimes of the monster of Vinci.

Pierre continued to believe , without doubts, that his new neighbor was Helen, not only despite the fact that she, Helen, kept on giving no sign of recognizing him, but he had continued firmly to believe that she was Helen, even when he had learned that lady was called, oh, but indeed she said that her name was…Pamela. Oh, of course she, Helen, had changed her name to be able to live hidden, sheltered from the curiosity aroused by the vicissitudes of her father. Indeed, he often happened to think. “ But strange that Helen had not changed town too, after the unlucky. troubled events of her father…”, to say immediately after: “ Oh, but of course that she hadn’t leave this town, eh… it means that it was destiny that we should meet again ( should have met again), and in fact…here that Helen came to live in front of me!” He had to invite her, Helen , to go out with him as soon as possible. They would go ( would have gone) to dinner, and then to the cinema or the theater…they could also go dancing, and they could walk the streets, desert by night, to tell each other their life…eh, they had things, stories to tell….Pierre was really happy to have found, by chance, Helen again , and he was sure that, but yes, she too had to be happy to meet him again. “Eh, I can say that...IT WAS DESTINY”__Pierre said to himself___” Oh, but who would have thought it then, when we were young, too young….oh, and I was so clumsy, so baffled that I couldn’t speak more than two words with Helen…who would have said then that we were destined to find again each other at this age? So Pierre showed up at the house of his neighbor, who he firmly believed was Helen, his Helen____oh, it didn’t matter that now she said her name was Pamela___with a bunch of wonderful wild roses , and he invited her out with him for mmmmmdinner, leaving the choice of the restaurant to her. Even in that circumstance ( that time too) the lady give no sign of recognizing him, and indeed, when Pierre addressed her as HELEN, she was quick to point out that her name was Pamela, not Helen. But he, Pierre, was not discouraged at all. What mattered was that his neighbor, however she could say her name was, accepted his invitation. And Pierre felt in seventh heaven when he could see that she accepted to go out with him with great pleasure. He had decided that, the evening they would go out together, he would have spoken to her….to Helen, openly : since he had recognized her, it was useless for her to continue to pretend not to recognize him. Oh, sure, it had been a long time since then, since they were young, but the important was that they had found each other again. Oh, he was so happy to meet her again, and he wanted to confess what he hadn’t dared then, a life ago, that she, HELEN, had been his most terrible crush , when he was young.

In the evening, when they were seated, facing each other, in a secluded area of the restaurant, as they were going to start their dinner, in a suggestive and even romantic setting____Pierre and Helen would have dined by candlelight, with flowers on the table, and with the accompaniment of waltz and tango music____Pierre decided to speak. “ Helen, oh Helen, I recognized you as soon as I saw you…” He start saying, in a heartfelt voice “ Oh, please, tell me that you recognized me too! I’m Pierre V., we lived near when we were very young, at the time we were still in school…Oh, Helen, you knew….i was then madly in love with you! Oh, I dreamed you every night, and by day too!” While he was speaking, Pierre saw her face, the face of Helen, almost completely in shadow, with the light of the candle now illuminating her eyes, now her mouth, now only an eye and the cheekbone…oh, but he recognized her even so…it was her, it was Helen, he had no doubts.

“ Ah; Pierre…but why do you insist on calling me Helen? My name is not Helen, my name is Pamela “ she said quietly. “ NO, Helen! You can’t keep on lying to me, pretending like that! I recognized you! Can you not recognize me? I’m Pierre V., the barber’s son “ Pierre said, indeed he almost shouted. “ I’m sorry, Pierre…you are such a nice, dear person, but you’re wrong! I am not Helen, I am Pamela…oh, and I’m sure I’ve never seen you before I came to live, recently, in front of your house “ The lady said, remaining completely calm, imperturbable.

“ That is not true! I don’t believe what you are saying! You are Helen! And on, admit it then: that you are Helen!” Pierre screamed, while her face, the face of…Helen , kept on appearing to him, illuminated in flashes by the swaying light of the candle, for soon disappear. Pierre stretches his arms over the table, and he took in his hands those of the woman who for him was Helen, who could only be Helen. “ Oh , Helen…do you think I cannot understand ….that with all you’ve had to go through…..with your father accused of being part of the monster holding….but sure, I understand , you know, that you had wanted to forget…that you had changed your name, that you now say that you are …Pamela….Oh, Helen, but , look at me: I’m Pierre! I recognized you! You are Helen! You owe me tell who you really are!” Pierre continue shouting, agitate, upset.

“ Oh, Pierre, but what, who are you talking about? Would my father have been accused of being part of the monster gang? And who would my father be? Oh, Pierre, look, I never even had a father! I never knew who my father was! “ She…Pamela, said calm, who now seemed more amused than worried by what Pierre was saying.

“ Oh, Helen, but stop this play! Please, stop lying to me! I know you are Helen C., the daughter of Manfred C., the most renowned , the most esteemed pharmacist of this town …Look, I understand that the suspicions about your father, and the accusations made against him, had have upset you….that you wish to live away from curiosity and chatter….I understand everything, Helen, but with me you have to admit that you are Helen!” Pierre, more and more agitated, even exasperated, spoke shouting, while he started to pull  by her hands, which he held tight in his hands, the woman he believed was Helen. The maitre d’ arrived , all polite, and he asked them , in a gentle tone, to  lower their voices, adding  in a whispering that there were some customers who had complained. Pierre apologized and fell silent. Remaining silent, he kept on looking at the woman sitting in front of him , as far as he could see her face, lit up in flashes, a bit at time, by the oscillating flame of the candle. And, looking at her face, appearing and soon after disappearing in shadow, he  continued to shake his head disconsolately, as if to reiterate, even without speaking, that he didn’t believe what Helen claimed, that she wasn’t Helen.

The woman who said to be called Pamela showed him her passport, which confirmed her identity : her name was Pamela V., she was born in Rome in 1960…… But Pierre was not persuaded by the passport, that could be false, as he said. He knew that it was not difficult to get false documents.

Then the woman who claimed to be called Pamela V.___and who , for him, was instead Helen___came out saying: “ Pierre, do you know what job ( work) I did in my life before, if I can say so, to retire? Well, I did what is called the oldest profession in the world”

“ Oh, Helen, stop lying, stop this play!” Pierre protested.

For days after that evening Pierre didn’t see the woman he kept on believing she was Helen. He thought it strange, but, at the same time, It seemed to him that the fact that his neighbor did not show up, (it) confirmed that she was Helen. When he asked about her, he knew that …the woman was gone, she had come back to live in Rome. Pierre continued to think that he had not been wrong: that woman was really Helen.