12
AMBRA
He keeps me close behind. His wide shoulders block my sight, I have to get on my tiptoes to be able to observe the one who visibly irritated Krum.
The man who influenced all my life is called Krum.
Krum.
I repeat this name in my head, forcing me not to utter it out loud. I should be distracted by the boy who's just arrived, but my attention is totally focused on Krum's hand that clutches my wrist. He had dared to intertwine our fingers in a movement that seemed all but delicate. I jumped away horrified, but he grabbed me again, imprisoning me behind his back.
What the hell is he doing? Is he shielding me?
Then I realize and see the hands of the boy who just arrived. He has the same tattoos as the man who tried to pick me up at the Arcano. I look at Oscar and, suddenly, his blond hair reminds me of the guy who flirted with Emma.
“You two…” I say, trying to overcome Krum's height. “You're the guys at the party.” Nothing, he doesn't let me go.
I can't get away from this titan. He continues to hold me tight, persists in pushing me behind him and I don't understand why he has suddenly become protective.
“Well, Look at that,” the boy with the tattooed knuckles replies. “What a coincidence.”
“Let me go!” I sob, pulling my arm off Krum's grasp.
His eyes are stabbing me. I step back. It's amazing how he can kill me just with a glance. I answer with my usual look of contempt that seems to be the only weapon that can calm him down. So it is and he relaxes.
“I'm glad to know that you're going to spend some time with us,” the cocky guy says.
“She isn't going to spend time with anyone,” Krum points out. “She has to meet the Father.”
The father?
“I drove him to the City Hall this morning,” Oscar informs. Krum snorts, but remains rigid, as usual. “Unfortunately he will be back tonight.”
“It's a shame they've assigned you to Botev,” the tattooed boy replies, “if I were your guardian, staying at the Temple would be a great holiday for you.” Guardian? “Do you want to take a tour around the villa?”
The boy rubs his shaved head embarrassed. He has deep blue eyes, but I wouldn't say they are beautiful. Paradoxically, Krum's are more beautiful, dark, sad and angry.
I see Krum's nostrils widen and I realize that this man annoys him a lot. Great news, because I decide to challenge him shamelessly.
“Sure, I would like to visit the villa.” I add, with emphasis: “With you.”
Oscar looks embarrassed, stares at Krum and then that guy. I think he wants to say something, so with my eyes, I urge him to speak.
“I'd like to accompany you,” Oscar says. Krum relaxes. I don't understand the tension that is being created. It is obvious that Krum doesn't want me to spend time with this guy and that Oscar is helping him to be sure I avoid it.
“You'll go with Oscar,” Krum orders , arousing a laugh of disdain in the tattooed boy's face. “Do you have anything to complain about, Manuel?”
Krum walks slowly, shortening the space that separates me from this Manuel. He stands in front of me and without looking at me, keeping his eyes fixed on the blue-eyed boy, he says: “Go with Oscar. Now.”
“Let's go Ambra,” Oscar calls me.
“I would like to be free to decide who to spend my time with,” I say it on purpose, only to stress Krum. I don't care about that Manuel.
Krum's head snaps toward me, I should have already had his answer just looking into his eyes, but I don't accept his claims. He must understand I am not ho He thinks I am.
“Go with Oscar or stay with me, decide!”
“She would like to stay with me if you didn't understand it,” Manuel provokes. What a fool, he doesn't realize that for me he's just a way to make his antagonist angry.
Krum sighs, anger seems to fall on him like an armor. He stands. in front of him, a few inches from his face, something tells me that I have to move and I do it.
“Don't make me nervous, Manuel. You saw her, you met her and you talked to her. Now look at her again,” he says. Manuel looks at me without hiding his malice. Krum grabs his chin violently and moves his face to the other side. “Well, now try to memorize her face in your head as you won't see her again.”
“You are playing with fire, Botev.”
“You don't have to buzz around her.”
“Maybe we should ask her.”
Krum clenches his fists, he knows that if they asked me, I would deliberately oppose him. I prepare the answer mentally.
“Okay,” Oscar jokes. “Between two parties, the third gains. She comes with me, bye, bye.”
Oscar takes me away, holding his hand on my back, and I follow with a smile. He's completely different from those two, he looks kind and reliable. Suddenly I feel clean air, free from that toxic cloud emitted by Krum.
“What do you want to see?” he asks.
“Since it's a nice day, I'd like to visit the garden.”
“Ok, the garden it is.” He smiles and as he opens the large entrance door, he makes room for me to pass.
The silence of the garden seems to be a remedy for the chaos in my head. Krum is right, my thoughts make so much noise and force me to absorb anxieties that I wouldn't like to have.
We pass along paths smelling like roses, there are tulips and other flowers I've never seen before.
“So, Ambra, I hope the impact with Krum wasn't too traumatic.”
“It'll take a lot more than that to scare me.”
He smiles satisfied.
“Krum is not bad.”
I burst out laughing. He isn't bad? He's diabolical.
“Oh, no, of course not. He's just a good guy who kidnapped me seven years ago and he has done the same thing tonight, taking me away from home, preventing me from greeting my mother and dragging me away like an insignificant animal.”
Oscar grows dark, maybe he didn't expect me to know everything.
“Here we aren’t all the same. His methods are extreme, but I assure you Krum is one of the best people I know.”
“I'm sorry, but you won't convince me.”
“I don't have to convince you. I just want to reassure you and let you know you're not in danger here. Especially if you're with him.”
I think of the obvious intention of Krum to protect me from Manuel.
“Why doesn’t he like Manuel?”
We walk along a white cobblestone driveway bordered by a kind of labyrinth of green leaves. Oscar looks down, so far he has always looked at me in the eyes, and I realize that what he is about to tell me is certainly not an absolute truth.
“They don't get along. Past frictions.”
“I thought the problem was me.”
“Don't worry. You just have to think about your stay here and the reason they called you. We guardians cannot speak in the place of the Father, he will answer all your questions.”
Hurricane Krum has set aside the main reason for all this. I totally avoided thinking about the question of the summoning.
“Okay. Tell me why you are called guardians?”
“It's our role, our job. Krum deals with you, he is your guardian, making sure you are ok and that you obey.”
“That I'm okay?” I ask incredulously. “But if the only thing he does is put his hands on me!”
“I told you, his methods are extreme. I don't do that.”
“Then I was really unlucky!”
“Maybe yes or maybe not. Surely he didn't want to take care of you. So maybe you both were unlucky.”
He didn't want to deal with me? The revelation sounds disappointing.
“Why didn't he want to deal with me?”
He shows me a light stone bench and we sit there. The sun kisses his hair making it more golden than mine. He's so blond, more than I am. His light eyes give security and I'm serene knowing that - from now on - I can count on him. I feel I can do it, but I don't tell him.
“Ambra, he didn't want to see you again after what happened seven years ago.”
“Why?”
Something inside me is hoping the answer is that Krum has repented for all the evil he did to me.
“I don't know, I've never understood why, I only know he hates you.”
“He hates me?” I ask shocked.
This asshole destabilizes me every time, even when he isn't present. It has always been this way. I don't understand why it upsets me so much, I can't believe he has problems with me.
“And so he hates me, huh?” I cross my arms and Oscar stares at my bruises. “He'll never hate me as much as I hate him,” I say, turning my face toward him.
I find I am able to give dirty looks, too, because my tone and the way I go on staring at Oscar make him sit back on the bench.
“Be careful Ambra, don't play with him, yours isn't a race. Hate can be as dangerous as a purer feeling.”
“What are you insinuating?”
“That you and Krum come from a burning past and you are now in an equally uncomfortable present. You both don't want to have anything to do with each other, but you are destined to meet daily, you’ll have to share something and I hope you put aside your hatred and try to establish your own rules for a good coexistence.”
“He has his own rules.”
“You'll see he will give you the opportunity to propose some rules.” He laughs and that relaxes me a bit.
“Are you Russians?” I ask, changing the subject.
“I am English, Krum is Bulgarian.”
“What are you doing here?”
“We were bought by the Father.”
“Bought?” The thought makes me shiver. Suddenly my mind runs a series of images I don't want to see.
“When we were little, the Father bought us, but it's a long story and I don't want to talk to you about it, even because Krum would punch me out. He doesn't like talking about his past.”
“Tell me about yours! I don't care about him.” He smiles in a way that disturbs me. He seems to mock my answer.
“I don't like talking about my past either.”
“Okay, then I won't ask anymore.”
“Thank you!”
“You're kind. I had forgotten how nice it was to have a normal conversation.”
“I already imagine your conversations with Krum are minimal. He doesn't like talking, especially with women. You will lose your bearings with him.”
“I'm sure of that.”
“He'll take care of you, no problem.” He puts his hand on my shoulder and suddenly becomes shy. “I'd like to ask you something.”
“Tell me.”
“Your… well, your… friend.”
“Emma?” His eyes shine, wow if they shine!
“Is her name Emma?”
“Yes, why?”
He smiles and shakes his head.
“She said her name was Annalisa.”
“I think it's normal, as we were in a club full of perverts!”
“Sure, sure.”
“By the way, did you...?”
“No.”
“No?” I'm shocked. “Strange. Emma is usually very…” I wouldn't use terms that would define her badly. “Well, she likes to enjoy life.”
“I understand, I understand. I am usually like that, too.”
“And this time you weren't?”
“No.”
Oscar has an infinite sweetness. His emotional face shows a real concern for Emma. I didn't think it possible to find a boy so different from Krum in a place like this.
“You like her.”
“Don't say that or you'll ruin my reputation,” he gives me a friendly push and we laugh, until we see Krum appearing out of nowhere.
Goodbye laughs.
Farewell tranquility.
Welcome back iciness.
“What are you doing?” He bursts out, as if smiling was a crime.
Oscar stands up and, acting totally different, tells him:
“Treat her well, Krum.” But before Oscar goes beyond him, Krum blocks him with his words.
“Don't tell me how to deal with her.”
“Instead, I’m telling you,” he says, staring back at him. “Treat her well.”
“Don’t you have anything to do today?” he pushes. His dark eyes, despite being touched by morning rays, appear increasingly black.
“Don't be despicable with her.”
I stand up because I'm afraid Krum can push him. Oscar is protecting me and I feel obliged to be on his side. But I would stay on the side of anyone, to avoid Krum's side.
Krum looks at me. He, like me, has never pronounced my name so far.
“Am I despicable?” he asks.
“Revolting,” I say distinctly.
He is immobilized, he doesn't even notice Oscar, who greets me with a nod and goes away. He gazes at me as if he was reviewing the various meanings of the word revolting.
“Come on, you have to eat something.”
“I'm not hungry!” I cross my arms and he gazes at my bruises, even darker in the sunshine.
“Do they hurt?” He points to them with a nod. The question surprises me.
“No. You're not even able to hurt really.”
What the hell am I doing? Goddamn it, I've just invited him to hurt me. I massage my throat, realizing I've said something absurd.
He looks thoughtful, the subject bothers him. Sure, his behavior is shameful.
“I want you to eat something, let's go! Then we'll go to the infirmary and I'll put something on those arms.”
I laugh at this strange thoughtfulness.
“Would you like to take care of me?” I tease him. He puffs and returns to be the usual piece of ice.
“Do what you want. Don't eat and keep your bruises!”
He turns and I look around, I don't know what to do. He starts walking and my legs, automatically, follow him.
“I would like a coffee!” I exclaim. He stops and I almost bump him.
When he turns I am forced to raise my head, he is so tall, so towering. He makes himself respected, totally, without doing or saying anything. His body is very overpowering. What he provokes in me is the wish to run away, but at the same time to stay, to go on being bewitched by his eyes.
“You'll have your coffee after putting something on those arms.”
“Do you always decide everything?”
“Yup!”
“My arms are fine, I don't need to put anything on them, especially because I don't want to give your conscience a break.”
“You’re a grand bitch.”
I smile naughtily, because I think I defeated him in this conversation. Yes, there is no doubt: he wants to repair the damage he made, but there will never be any medicines that can cure the evil that he has been doing.
I remember Oscar's words and I realize that if I really want to avoid problems, I have to try to propose rules. Since his expectations are absolute, I’ll try to succeed, hoping to win this little battle.
“I'll have coffee and then I'll put something on the bruises.”
“You'll put something on the bruises and then have coffee.”
He walks faster and I am forced to do the same. He doesn't give up.
“I'll have the coffee first.”
He stops again and this time I run into his back. It's like I have just touched a hot plate.
He stares at me from above, he looks even more massive than he already is. I don't understand why he becomes so nervous at such a stupid request. I think it's a challenge he doesn't want to lose either.
“Tell me why do you always have to stand out? You are not in a position to decide what to do. Like before… Why did you want to spend time with that fucking idiot? You did it on purpose! Do you think I'm stupid? You noticed that Manuel annoys me and you didn't miss the opportunity to take advantage of the situation. The world doesn't turn around you, princess, you are here with me just because I was ordered to take care of you. If I could, I'd have avoided this trouble. If you don't like my ways, I don't care, because you have to adapt, not me. You were a pain in the ass seven years ago, you have been since then and you still are. So stop talking to me as if we've known each other for a long time. Close that damn mouth! Don't look into my eyes as you are doing now, stay close to me and obey without complaining. Let's put something on those arms or I’ll break them, so we’ll solve the problem. Then, and only then, when I decide, we'll get a fucking coffee! Do you understand?”
I'm breathless, but he is even more so, because he's breathing exhausted, as if he's wished to spit these words in my face for a long time.
I nod, but he snarls again: “Do you understand? Answer me: Yes, Krum!
I won't pronounce his name.
“Yes.”
“Krum,” he insists.
“Yes, I understand.”
He clamps his jaw and advances toward me, I step back and stumble on a vase and I am pricked by a plant coming out of it, even though I’m wearing jeans.
“Don't you want to pronounce my name?” he asks angrily.
“No.”
“Why?”
“Because you don't pronounce mine.”
That's why. I don't pronounce it because he doesn't pronounce mine. I understand it now. I back up a bit more, because he always has the vice to physically subdue me. I hit the wall and find out I have nowhere to go.
“So what?” he gnashes.
“So I won't pronounce your name.”
“I won't do it either,” he challenges.
“Why?”
“I don't want you on my lips.”
That phrase strikes me in the same way his hands usually do, but not to my wrists but to my stomach.
I look down, I won't lose, I don't want to lose. I mustn't show him any surrender or he’ll know he has a right over me. But his sentence was tough, harder than many others said because of anger. This time, he seemed sincere, true, not a victim of a moment of anger, but a moment of extraordinary lucidity.
He really hates me.
Why?
I decide to put an end to the multitude of thoughts that fill my head and that vents in a form of numbness. I follow him just because we're actually talking about stupid things: a coffee. I lower my eyes and let him win.
“I'll put something on my arms and then I'll have coffee.”
“Good, moete momiche.”
“What did you say?”
“Good, my girl."
I sigh.