The Sense of an Elephant by Marco Missiroli Page B

boy in his beret held the roses to his chest, protecting them as he skipped away from his mother.
    The concierge waited. The cold in his bones was even colder. He picked up the cloth and descended the stairs. Found the lawyer at the entrance to the courtyard. He was wrapped in a trench coat and held a hand to his forehead. ‘I’ve never seen such vulgarity.’
    Pietro greeted him.
    â€˜The roses, I mean. No one gives roses any more. And the upsetting thing is that our Fernando is about to give them to her.’
    â€˜To Alice?’
    â€˜My God, yes.’ Poppi turned around. His freshly tanned head gleamed. ‘His mother just bought them for him. In other words, she’s as good as sending her son to the slaughter. I tried to dissuade her but I could have used a right-hand man like you, my friend.’
    â€˜I was working on the stairs.’ He tossed the cloth in a corner.
    â€˜You really have a thing for those stairs.’ Poppi crossed into the courtyard. ‘What have you two decided to do withthose roses? I would put them in a vase at home and call it done.’
    â€˜We’re on our way to give them to her now.’ Paola took her son under the arm. Fernando raised the flowers and greeted Pietro. ‘Today I’m getting married to Alice,’ he said on his way out.
    They crossed the street together, Fernando waving the bouquet to stop the cars. The cafe was crowded with people at the counter. The tables and armchairs were empty. They chose the corner close to the photograph of Sophia Loren in
Two Women
and sat down. Fernando was champing at the bit but the lawyer held him back. ‘It’s not with flowers that one seduces women.’
    â€˜With flowers,’ repeated the strange boy.
    â€˜You just have to be nice,’ said Paola. ‘You’ve got your father’s charm.’
    â€˜Of course, that’s all there is to it.’ The lawyer turned to the concierge. ‘Do you have a plan for the imminent catastrophe?’
    Pietro sat apart from the others, wedged into a corner of the couch. The cold had become ice. He took the bouquet of roses from Fernando’s hands. The wrapping paper was wrinkled. He smoothed it out. Then stared at Alice behind the counter as she prepared two espressos.
    Fernando stood up.
    Poppi tried to hold him back.
    The manchild gripped the bouquet, tipped his beret and started off. Cleared the tables and marched to the other end of the cafe. ‘Alice.’ he called out.
    Alice had his back to him as she tidied the bottles ofliqueur. She wore a silver-coloured hairband and pearl earrings.
    â€˜Here we go.’ The lawyer covered his face and peeked through his fingers.
    Fernando swayed in his loafers, held out the bouquet and kept it suspended over the counter. ‘Alice.’
    She turned. Her gaze sought the back of the cafe. Pietro nodded. Everyone instantly went quiet.
    Alice accepted the flowers. Fernando planted his elbows on the counter and waited for something that would not arrive. Waited some more, his face reddening, his heavy thighs straining against his trousers.
    The young woman thanked him repeatedly, placed the roses atop the refrigerator and returned to the liqueurs. Fernando didn’t move. Mumbled something, bounced up and down as if he were about to leap across the counter, growled.
    â€˜I’ll go and get him,’ said his mother.
    â€˜Let me,’ said the lawyer.
    Poppi went. He approached the strange boy, who wouldn’t hear of moving, spoke to him and slowly but surely convinced him to leave the counter. Fernando ran to his mother.
    â€˜Come here, my baby. You just want your mama.’ Paola made room for him at her table and kissed him on the cheek.
    The boy wasn’t listening to her but just stared at the floor,
Alice
, exhaling loudly from his nose,
Alice
.
    â€˜You just want your mama,’ Paola repeated.
    Fernando left her there, darting to the couch and curling up