Dottoressa

.

“Hey man! You travel all the time, that’s amazing.”
“How can I get a job like yours?! I also want to travel all the time!”
“You’re so lucky brother, you get to see the world and do what you love!”
.
Responses to Simon’s travelling photos on social media were always the same. He was on the verge of switching the airport and destination photos for excel sheets and regulatory documents on his social media, so that he could create some imaginary empathy. As imaginary or as unreal as the people who were following him on social media perhaps.
.
Travelling for work was never easy, and Simon hated the fact that people assumed it was a lovely thing. If you wanted to see the city that you were visiting, you had to sacrifice sleep on both ends. You either had to wake-up way too early in the morning or go to bed way past midnight. Simon usually did both and crashed when he arrived back at home.
.
This was a unique work trip. It was scheduled right after the new year holidays and he had managed to book an earlier flight to Ancona. His destination was San Marino, to which he arrived early and managed to see a bit of the city.
.
He wrapped up his meetings later that day and went to his hotel, which was booked way out of town, much to his dislike. He was way too tired to find a way back up to the main city and was left to find out what was going on the hotel bar. After being exposed to the heavy accent of the bartender for two beers, Simon asked him if there was a place around the hotel to have dinner. Not that he was hungry, but he wanted to get away from the unnecessarily bright lights of the hotel.
.
The bartender suggested him to go to Green Mood and Food. The name was anything but promising. The bartender insisted for him to go there in a very animated way and Simon took trust in the body language that went along with the bartender’s verbal recommendation. For him, that was the golden standard in Italians, even if it may be observed as being a little stereotypical.
.
He entered the restaurant in his phone and seeing that it was a 20 min walk away, he ordered a double vodka before paying the bill with a handsome tip. He headed for the door after chugging the vodka down and lit his cigarette up while he was still in the revolving door.
.
A chilly breeze greeted him as he exited the door and smoked half of his cigarette. He walked down the main road, which was empty of any human or vehicular traffic and entered into a side street when his phone alerted him to do so. He liked walking at night, especially in places that were unknown to him. He enjoyed seeing the architecture of regular buildings wherever he went, and he judged them according to his taste.
.
He must have smoked at least six cigarettes while walking towards the restaurant. Three if you counted how much of it went to the wind. As he arrived at the restaurant’s building his judgement of architecture stopped. It must have been one of the ugliest glass buildings that he had ever seen. He didn’t judge the restaurant by the building, even though the Green Mood and Food looked from the outside more like Glass Doom and Shitty Gloom.
.
After realizing that the restaurant was located on one of the upper floors of the building, Simon decided to have another cigarette before going up.
.
He was greeted by a charming waitress, but then was quickly directed to a waiter with extremely plucked eyebrows due to the lack of English of the waitress. Plucked eyebrows asked him how many guests he would have, to which Simon responded “none”. He was led to a table that seated two under normal circumstances, but Simon liked the way that the bar looked and asked plucked eyebrows if he could sit at the bar. The response was positive, so Simon headed to the corner of the bar and was handed a menu. He asked for a double Russian Standard Platinum, which he had seen as he was walking towards the bar.
.
There was a poem on the cover of the menu, which grabbed his attention. He wanted to figure out what the poem was about, but prior to doing that, he ordered a platter of cheese and cold cuts.
As he was about to open Google Translator, a group of six walked in. All dressed very formally. Five men and one woman. They sat relatively close to him but did not acknowledge that he was sitting at the bar. The men seemed tipsy already and the woman seemed cautious.
.
Simon would not say that the woman was Italian. If he had to bet on it, Italy would be the last country that he would say she was from. A natural blonde with beautiful green eyes. She also didn’t have the strong characteristics of a common Italian face with defined lines. Very soft, circular, and cute lines, which meant that Simon was infatuated instantly.
.
One of the men was a foreigner and he said “dottoressa” while he pulled out a chair for her to sit down. The woman said “thank you” in English but with an Italian accent. While she said that, her mimics showed that she was lying, but how could a man focus on her mimics instead of her hypnotizing eyes?
.
Her accent was the first giveaway for Simon, but soon enough she spoke Italian with another colleague and her gestures became animated, which again, even though it might be disgustingly stereotypical, confirmed to Simon that she was Italian. She did not seem happy to be there at that moment. Simon assumed that she was a doctor as the men around her called dottoressa.
.
Dottoressa went to the bathroom and came back with a tight bun. If she looked hot before, she looked unbearably spicy now. Those eyes had become even more visible. She was a completely natural woman. As his gaze intensified, Simon stopped himself and decided to open Google Translator to see what the poem was all about.
.
“Io non ho paura di quelle che il mondo chiama “belle donne”.
Io ho paura delle altre.”
“I am not afraid of what the world calls “beautiful women”.
I am afraid of the others.”
.
Damn true Simon thought, a BMW rental and a 5-star hotel room would do for what the world would call a “beautiful women”.
.
“Ho paura di quelle che escono di casa con un filo di trucco.“
“I’m afraid of those who leave the house with a little makeup.”
.
How many times had he tasted the foundation and the perfume in his mouth against the times that he could smell the real skin was unbearable. Another plus for the poet.
.
One of the men called dottoressa, Silvia in the meantime.
.
Simon had only translated three lines so far and Silvia had checked the boxes in those three lines. He was already scared of his potential fellings.
.
“Di quelle che capisci subito se hanno passato una nottata in bianco dalle occhiaie che si portano dietro.”
“Of those that you understand immediately if they have spent a sleepless night with dark circles that they carry around.”
.
Oh hell yes, she was tired. You could see that from a mile away if not ten. You could see it in and around her eyes.
.
“Hey, one more. Prego!” said Simon to the bartender as the volume of the music increased while pointing towards his glass.
.
“Di quelle che si legano i capelli con una matita.”
“One of those who tie their hair with a pencil.”
.
Me and Silvia, imagined Simon. Assembling Ikea furniture. She would tie her hair with a pencil for sure. He raised his glass towards an unknown destination, where he presumed the poet was.
.
“Di quelle che si guardano allo specchio e sorridono perché non hanno nemmeno un capello al posto giusto.”
“One of those who look in the mirror and smile because they don’t even have a hair in the right place.”
.
She didn’t have one in right place when she had walked in, let alone having em’ in the right place when looking in a mirror.
.
“Ho paura di loro.”
“I am afraid of them.”
.
How could one not be? This fright was what separated the intellectuals from the ones who said “come here and dig my gold.”
.
Silvia was drinking fast to compensate for her boredom, and her eyes were starting to move while the restaurant filled up. The spot Simon sat on was dark, which didn’t catch the attention of “dottoressa”.
.
Simon was happy about that fact, or, was he?
.
“Di quelle che si fermano sui dettagli,
su particolari tuoi che nemmeno tu stesso pensavi di avere.”
“Of those that stop on the details,
on your details that not even you yourself thought you had.”
.
He was sure that she would make him aware of those details as she caught Simon’s eye for the first time. It was the first time that she had shown the real mimic of a smile from the time she entered the restaurant. The reason for that smile was Simon’s vulnerability. Even though he was a strong character, his eyes could not hide the infatuation and as soon as he realized that, he looked away.
.
“Di quelle che sanno stare accanto agli altri,
ma non sanno come stare accanto a se stesse.”
“Of those who know how to be next to others,
but do not know how to be next to themselves.”
.
Even though the poet meant it in a personal way, in Silvia’s case it was obvious in a professional environment as well. She powered herself by satisfying others’ existence. She looked so helpless yet so powerful. She didn’t want to be there, but she was the one who made the conversation bearable for the others.
.
“Di quelle che sono sempre di corsa,
ma si fermano ad ascoltare. Uno sconosciuto,
un amico,
un bambino.”
“Of those who are always in a hurry,
but stop to listen. A stranger,
a friend,
a child.”
.
As Simon could not control his gaze, Silvia’s attention matched his once again. Her stare shy, her grimace genuine, her look-away involuntary, yet her smile still genuine when she looked towards where Simon was sitting.
.
“Ho paura di loro.
Di quelle che ad un
“Sei bellissima”, arrossiscono,
s’imbarazzano.”
“I am afraid of them.
Of those who
blush at a “You are beautiful”,
embarrassed.”
.
She already was, as Simon had already told this with his glare. Both of them were vulnerable at this point. Presumably, she had acknowledged that somebody was way too into her without even knowing her, and she was intrigued. In Simon’s case he had acknowledged to himself that this was the first time that he was so infatuated in a long time. Even longer if you had eliminated the movie stars.
.
“Di quelle che custodiranno gelosamente il Girasole che le hai regalato finché l’ultimo petalo non si sarà seccato e rompendosi cadrà sul pavimento,
perdendosi tra la polvere, sotto l’armadio.”
“One of those who will jealously guard the Sunflower you gave her until the last petal has dried up and when it breaks it will fall to the floor, getting
lost in the dust, under the wardrobe.”
.
Now the author was going into a dreamland and talking about his ideal situation. That type of relationship was once in a lifetime if it had ever happened and probably not nowadays. But a bad couplet was not going to ruin the poem for Simon. Silvia seemed like the women who would appreciate such a gesture, but she would probably make bookmarks out of the petals and would forget them inside a book. The petals would fall on the floor 10 years after she had said her last goodbye to you while she is cleaning her library in her pajamas with her husband watching her with a glass of Montepulciano. She would probably laugh at the memory but that’s about it.
.
“Di quelle che non appaiono, non si vedono,
non si notano.”
“Of those that do not appear, are not seen, are
not noticed.”
.
Another bad couplet. Even though it was not hard to understand what the poet was saying, it was very difficult to imagine a woman like Silvia go unnoticed. No matter how casual, how quiet, or how clandestine she might try to become, somebody’s heart would ache with infatuation, which in this case was Simon himself.
.
“Il mondo sempre in primo piano.
E loro dietro.
Sullo sfondo.
Ho paura di loro.”
“The world always in the foreground.
And behind them.
On background.
I am afraid of them.”
.
At this point, Simon was thinking if the poetry was too much for Google Translate. He looked at the translation multiple times to see somehow if it made sense. He doubted it very much, it was also hard to presume what the poet was trying to say at this point.
.
“Di quelle che sorridono alla vita,
tutti i giorni,
nonostante abbiamo migliaia di motivi per non farlo.”
“Of those who smile at life,
every day,
although we have thousands of reasons not to.”
.
The author was finally getting back on track and Simon was pleased, because Silvia seemed like she would smile regardless of whatever the situation might be. Simon was not going to differentiate between a forced smile, hateful grin, or a genuine beam. After all smiling at life everyday was not really possible, actually if a person was likely to be happy everyday this also indicated that they might have a lower IQ according to a recent research that Simon had read, which he had agreed with. Silvia for sure would smile at life everyday but only god knew in which way.
.
“Di quelle che ti ascoltano davvero.
Di quelle che amano essere belle,
solo ogni tanto.
Solo per qualcuno.”
“Of those who really listen to you.
Of those who love to be beautiful,
only occasionally.
Just for someone.”
.
Simon could see a bottle of wine, almost empty, the two of them sitting on a couch and him talking about a subject that he was very passionate about, and Silvia looking straight into his eyes and listening with a smile. A smile that indicated that she was not necessarily interested in the topic but that she found him somewhat sexy when he was talking about a topic that he was into.
.
She was the type of woman that would be beautiful under any circumstance. She could laugh at the fact that she had a snot sticking out while she is cleaning it and somehow, she would be still gorgeous when she is laughing about it. But it was clear what the poet had meant. The simple eyeliner just to meet you, the mascara that is not applied perfectly due to inexperience for that special date. Simon could see it.
.
“Di quelle che sanno piangere.
Ho paura di loro.”
“Of those who know how to cry.
I am afraid of them.”
.
No one would dare to make a woman like that cry on purpose and would be there to kiss the tears away in times of need. Yes, if she would cry it would mean something, it would be hard to calm her down, she might even push you away if the tears were not about you. You’d be fucked if they were about you anyway, you would be lucky to see her again, as long as they were not tears of joy.
.
“Di quelle che per passare un’ora con te,
passerebbero anche otto ore in treno.
Ho paura di loro.”
“Of those who
would spend eight hours on the train to spend an hour with you.
I am afraid of them.”
.
Simon had no empathy for this, and he wondered if that would be possible at all with any woman. He would put a ring on it if that was the case, regardless of how much he despised families and children. But he guessed that the right women would trick him into liking the idea and if she would make an eight-hour journey to spend an hour with him, that would be a milestone achieved towards her goal.
.
“Di quelle per cui vale la pena restare.
Una volta.
Restare.”
“Of those for which it is worth staying.
One time.
To remain.”
.
Well, one would not be afraid of the ones that weren’t worth remaining by default. Maybe the poem was getting too long for the poet at this point. If you had half a brain, you would stay for the ones that were worth. She was worth it, without even knowing her. Actually, you didn’t have to know her, her eyes were talking, displaying every single emotion.
.
As she looked Simon’s way once more, Simon pulled away his gaze in a rush and ordered another vodka without realizing that he had half of his glass remaining. He did it loudly as well and had an expression of surprise when he saw his glass half full. Silvia, who had seen all of it happen was smirking, which Simon had realized as he turned to look at her once more. She faced towards the table once again and kept the smirk on as she played with her wine glass.
.
“E ho paura di loro, soprattutto,
quando,
senza dire una parola ti scelgono,
restano e tu sei troppo distratto per accorgertene, troppo concentrato a fuggire da non sai cosa.
Ho paura di loro perché di belle donne il mondo è pieno.”
“And I’m afraid of them, above all,
when,
without saying a word they choose you,
they stay and you are too distracted to notice, too focused on running away from you don’t know what.“
.
What had happened prior to Simon reading the couplet was exactly that. He had shown that he was into her without willing and had decorated it with a clumsiness worth making a joke out of. She could already decide if he was worth it or not, but somebody had to start the conversation, which was not one of Simon’s strong suits. But the poet could be right. When Simon was younger, he wouldn’t have even acknowledged what had happened even if it had happened on a face to face setting. He would be too distracted by infatuation to realize if she liked him or not. One thing was certain though, if he had realized it, he would not run away.
.
“Ho paura di loro perché di belle donne il mondo è pieno.
Una donna del genere, invece,
se te la lasci scappare non saprai mai in quale parte del mondo la ritroverai.
Se mai la ritroverai.”
“I’m afraid of them because the world is full of beautiful women.
A woman like that, however,
if you let her escape you will never know in which part of the world you will find her.
If you ever find her again.”
.
The world was full of beautiful women indeed. But a Silvia was hard to come by. Simon already knew how life would be with her. He presumed, but he was taught to presume correctly. As she got up to head towards the bathroom, she gave a quick glance to Simon with a smile. If Simon would not come up with something fast, she would escape.
.
He downed the vodka while watching Silvia head towards the bathroom. The bartender approached him with a huge grin, who had been watching the recent distant flirting happen, and said “Vai, Vai!”.
.
Simon knew that this meant “Go, Go!” and replied the bartender with a small snort of laughter. He got out of his bar stool and put on a fake limp, which would make Dr. House jealous. He slowly headed towards the bathroom and waited in the corridor until he heard the flush in the women’s toilet. As he heard the lock being turned from the inside, he slowly made his way towards the men’s toilet, which was next to the women’s.
.
Silvia saw Simon’s limp, and asked something in Italian, to which Simon replied “Sorry, I don’t speak Italian.”
.
“Are you okay?” asked Silvia, with an Italian accent.
“Yes, yes, just a cramp” said Simon.
“Seems like a bad one”
“I’m not that good at acting I guess, but it seems to have started a conversation dottoressa” said Simon with a smile.
.
Silvia couldn’t control her laugher at Simon’s confession.
.
“Listen I know you have to go back to your table. Do you mind if I get your phone number to consult you about my cramp later on? I am a foreigner here, and I could possibly use some help.”
.
The shitty pick-up attempt triggered another laughter from Silvia, who was gesturing for Simon to hand over his phone to her at the same time. She entered her phone number into his and left the bathroom area.
.
Simon used the bathroom and headed back to his place. He still had the limp on his way back in order for Silvia’s table not to realize the scam.
As he sat down, his phone’s notification light started to blink. He picked up the phone to see that there was a WhatsApp message from Silvia.
.
“Sorry to see that you have also cramped on the other leg” the message read.
.
Simon’s excitement had made him forget which leg he had used to limp towards the bathroom.
.
“Oh shit” he wrote, which was followed up with a laughing emoji. “Do you think we could have a glass of wine together after your dinner?”
“Yes we can”
.
Hopefully, she wouldn’t escape.