Hovering Over the Water Page #3

Oh! It's you.

You scared me...

I called time and again

and nobody answered.

Hello, Antoine.

Sara is not here.

She isn't?

On second thoughts,

I'm really almost relieved

not to have found her.

With Sara

I always get the feeling

I'm one too many.

Or not too short.

Sometimes I fell

like I never calling on her again...

Do you remember the time

she sent me a telegram

asking me to join her in Florence?

"I love you. Come."

No, no...

"Come. I love you."

At first,

I thought it was a joke.

It couldn't be.

After all, Sara is not in the habit

of joking with that sort of things...

I didn't even

have the time to change.

When I arrived in Florence

it was bitter cold

and it rained cats and dogs.

I rang the bell at her place,

drenched to the bones and shivering.

She looked at me from head to foot.

I was immediately aware

that she was furious.

She looked lovely thus.

I only wished the earth

would swallow me on the spot

but the only thing I did

was to take the telegram

out of the pocket

and show it to her.

She smiled

and said:
"Ah!"

"I can offer you

a grappa and a towel."

"I'm sorry but I worked late

and I'm going to resume sleeping."

"We'll meet for lunch

at the Piazza della Signoria,"

"if you want."

She gave the name of a cafe,

the Rivoire,

and turned her back on me.

She was willing to marry you.

But what made her

change her mind?

What makes people change their minds

if they ever do change them?

Who knows?

If there had been another man...

There have been other man...

All right,

but I don't believe she loved them.

I don't believe she loved me.

Sara loved only one man:

Virglio, her brother.

It's not by chance

he was the only guy

I was truly jealous of.

Also of you, in a way.

Of me?

It was dreadful

when we went to Arezzo

to look at Piero della Francesca,

the Leggenda della Uera Croce.

Which cross?

I constantly asked myself.

Mine or Piero della Francesca's?

For both of you

it was as if I didn't even exist.

After a while

I couldn't see clearly any longer.

Virglio irrupted

from every recess of the frescoes

as a more and more intense

and bright volume.

I could never stand that...

...Piero della Francesca.

You're being unfair.

I was very much in love

with Virglio

and everything spun around us...

I'm jealous of everything,

that's the truth.

I don't know.

After all...

a guy tries to find,

by fair means or foul,

is excuses for his mistakes.

It might be a mistake

to think one failed

because things don't happen

as one has desired.

Maybe the blame we insist

on laying upon ourselves

should simply be laid on the rain.

On the rain?

Maybe your story

would have had another outcome

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