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come to see that Mauro is like the sea, and like the sea he’s just there, naturally and simply. Clear and calm, if it’s clear and calm, and – equally simply – stormy if it’s stormy. If you wish to swim, or look from a distance, or if you couldn’t care less, that’s your business. He accepts you, but can just as easily do without you.
    He’s everything we lack: naturalness and inner strength.
    In the world of Mauro De Cortes, it makes sense to grow flowers or learn to make little sweets. And above all, one can hope.
    Leaving aside all the boyfriends, Zia’s life is sad. Sometimes she comes to see us with her defences down. She doesn’t criticise anything Mamma’s cooked and she says, ‘I haven’t eaten since the last time I found someone to eat with. I don’t know how many days it’s been.’
    When she leaves she’s a little bit happier and she says to Mamma, ‘Thank you.’
    But maybe Zia’s new boyfriend is the right one. When we invited him over for lunch, he took her hand at the table and let everyone see that they’re together, whereas Doctor Salevsky never so much as touched her in our presence. He’s nice and he goes running so now Zia goes running too, early in the morning. Because, she says, regardless of what Papà thinks, the logic is that politicians go with politicians, sailors with sailors, dancers with dancers; like on Noah’s Ark, you go in pairs and otherwise she wouldn’t be able to pair up with anybody. None of us has come out and said it, but I’m sure the common feeling is that this time, God is willing. But Papà says it’s obvious that something’s not right with Zia, since she can’t stay with her lovers for more than an hour or two, and after sex, some pleasant chat and some remarks about world events, she feels it’s time to leave, or else they make it clear to her that she can’t stay any longer.
    Every day Mamma says the rosary for her and checks the position of the stars. I’ve learnt that Saturn is the most dangerous, if it’s in opposition all you can do is pray. But I get the impression that Mamma thinks not even God can do anything about this planet, because it, too, is part of Creation and God leaves it to do its own thing.
    Every day, before going out with her boyfriend, Zia phones for an update on the astrological situation and to check that Mamma is at the ready, rosary in hand, as she heads out.
    A little while ago I walked a short way with Mauro De Cortes and noticed that he walks under all the ladders and doesn’t worry about black cats; nor does he touch himself down there when a hearse goes by. I know he’d happily use yellow pegs to hang out his washing. At one point he talked to me about a problem he had and he wasn’t sure how it’d work out and I said, ‘Don’t worry, I’ll tell Mamma and Zia to say the rosary for you, or to check the stars.’
    He looked at me, half amused, half frightened: ‘Stop there, for heaven’s sake! I do everything alone, including praying!’
    ‘And what about Saturn?’ I asked him. ‘What’ll you do if it’s bad?’
    ‘I’ll shoot it down!’ And he looked up into the sky, aiming an imaginary rifle.
    Zia confided to me that she’s slept with him even when she’s been seeing other boyfriends and that it was beautiful. And the thing that struck her more than anything else was that Mauro’s lovemaking was just like everything else he does: natural and strong. After lighting a cigarette he looks at you all over and you feel shivers of desire. And to get aroused he doesn’t need any of that fancy lingerie; he undresses you completely without even looking at your new things. Or else he leaves all your clothes on and just lifts them up before taking you.
    If I was to be born again and beforehand they gave me the chance to choose who I was to marry and have children and spend my life with, I too would definitely choose Mauro De Cortes.
    It’s not that he’s so very handsome or charming or intelligent or