The Neapolitan Novels

16.

It didn’t seem like a random manifestation of a bad mood, surely she had thought about it for a long time, maybe since she had left the clinic. She said:

“If Enzo can do it by himself, good, and if not we’ll sell it.”

“You want to give up Basic Sight? And what will you do?”

“Does a person necessarily have to do something?”

“You have to use your life.”

“The way you do?”

“Why not?”

She laughed, she sighed:

“I want to waste time.”

“You have Gennaro, you have Enzo, you have to think of them.”

“Gennaro is twenty-three years old, I’ve been too taken up with him. And I have to separate Enzo from me.”

“Why?”

“I want to go back to sleeping alone.”

“It’s terrible to sleep alone.”

“You do, don’t you?”

“I don’t have a man.”

“Why should I have one?”

“Aren’t you fond of Enzo anymore?”

“Yes, but I have no desire for him or anyone. I’m old and no one should disturb me when I sleep.”

“Go to a doctor.”

“Enough with doctors.”

“I’ll go with you, those are problems that can be solved.”

She became serious.

“No, I’m fine like this.”

“No one is fine like this.”

“I am. Fucking is very overrated.”

“I’m talking about love.”

“I have other things on my mind. You’ve already forgotten Tina, not me.”

I heard Enzo and her arguing more frequently. Rather, in the case of Enzo, only his heavy voice reached me, slightly more emphatic than usual, while Lila did nothing but scream. Only a few phrases of his reached me upstairs, filtered through the floor. He wasn’t angry—he was never angry with Lila—he was desperate. In essence he said that everything had gotten worse—Tina, the work, their relationship—but she wasn’t doing anything to redefine the situation; rather she wanted everything to continue getting worse. You talk to us, he said to me once. I answered that it was no use, she just needed more time to find an equilibrium. Enzo, for the first time, replied roughly: Lina has never had any equilibrium.

It wasn’t true. Lila, when she wanted, could be calm, thoughtful, even in that phase of great tension. She had good days, when she was serene and very affectionate. She took care of me and my daughters, she asked about my trips, about what I was writing, about the people I met. She followed—often with amusement, sometimes with indignation—the stories Dede, Elsa, even Imma told about school failures, crazy teachers, quarrels, loves. And she was generous. One afternoon, with Gennaro’s help, she brought me up an old computer. She taught me how it worked and said: I’m giving it to you.

The next day I began writing on it. I got used to it quickly, even though I was obsessed by the fear that a power outage would sweep away hours of work. Otherwise I was excited about the machine. I told my daughters, in Lila’s presence: Imagine, I learned to write with a fountain pen, then moved on to a ballpoint pen, then the typewriter—and also an electric typewriter—and finally here I am, I tap on the keys and this miraculous writing appears. It’s absolutely beautiful, I’ll never go back, I’m finished with the pen, I’ll always write on the computer, come, touch the callus I have here on my index finger, feel how hard it is: I’ve always had it but now it will disappear.

Lila enjoyed my satisfaction, she had the expression of someone who is happy to have made a welcome gift. Your mother, however, she said, has the enthusiasm of someone who understands nothing, and she drew them away to let me work. Although she knew she had lost their confidence, when she was in a good mood she often took them to the office to teach them what the newest machines could do, and how and why. She said, to win them back: Signora Elena Greco, I don’t know if you know her, has the attention of a hippopotamus sleeping in a swamp, whereas you girls are very quick. But she couldn’t regain their affection, in particular Dede and Elsa’s. The girls said to me: It’s impossible to understand what she has in mind, Mamma, first she urges us to learn and then she says that these machines are useful for making a lot of money by destroying all the old ways of making money. Yet, while I knew how to use the computer only for writing, my daughters, and even Imma to a small extent, soon acquired knowledge and skills that made me proud. Whenever I had a problem I began to depend especially on Elsa, who always knew what to do and then boasted to Aunt Lina: I fixed it like this and like that, what do you say, was I clever?

Things went even better when Dede began to involve Rino. He, who had never even wanted to touch one of those objects of Enzo and Lila’s, began to show some interest, if only not to be admonished by the girls. One morning Lila said to me, laughing:

“Dede is changing Gennaro.”

I answered:

“Rino just needs some confidence.”

She replied with ostentatious vulgarity:

“I know what kind of confidence he needs.”