About Time by Simona Sparaco Read Free Book Online Page B

there was run. Run to dinner, run for coffee, run to talk to people and pretend to be cheerful and relaxed, even when I was making an effort to look at Gaëlle and Federico as if they were still my friends.
    Maybe I’m at the peak of a particularly stressful period. Whatever it is, my life just isn’t the same any more, I’ve been flung into a new dimension, a reality where there only seem to be half the number of hours in the day as there were before, where, if I’m lucky, I have to be content with sleeping two or three hours a night, and my appointments and deadlines are so close together I can’t handle them.
    It should be seven o’clock on Monday morning, and I’m in bed, clinging to the last moments of sleep, knowing the alarm clock will go off very soon.
    Instead of which, it’s the entryphone that buzzes, insistently, as if saying, “Hurry up, Svevo, hurry up!”
    I leap out of bed and stagger to the door, my eyes still half-closed. I’d turned off the heating before leaving for Paris, and this morning it’s freezing cold, the parquet floor seems like a sheet of ice, and with every step I take a shiver runs down my spine.
    “Who is it?”
    “It’s the doorman, Signor Romano. The driver’s here asking if you need him.”
    “Of course I need him. What the hell is the time?”
    “It’s ten past nine. We were wondering if everything was all right.”
    I’m almost used by now to the pain I feel in my chest every time I’m told the time.
    I’ve started to imagine You. I’ve given You human form, because I need a face to direct my anger at. I think of You as busy keeping things moving, making sure nothing ever stops. Father Time and his everlasting work. You’ve decided to make me skip a few stages, You’ve suddenly gone all frantic, full of fits and starts. What are You trying to do? Declare war on me? I have to tell You, I’m not someone who gives up easily. I won’t submit to this madness, I won’t screw up the things I’ve built up with so much effort over the past few years, even if I have to do without sleep, food or sex. I have no intention of throwing in the towel.
    I’m outside the building in half an hour, real time, which in my time is only fifteen minutes, more or less. Antonio is waiting for me at the wheel, surprised that I kept him waiting so long and that I’m in such a tearing hurry now. I have to control myself, the situation is critical, but I can do it, I keep telling myself.
    My diary is chock-a-block with appointments I can’t afford to miss. I have to keep everything in order, I mustn’t get all the documents mixed up. I have to run, yes, but I have to do it intelligently. I have to be faster than You, I tell myself, but at the same time try to keep control. During the ride I count to five—one, two, three, four, five, one, two, three, four, five—never taking my eyes off the street, because if I get distracted, You’ll swallow the ride. But then I take a second glance at my diary and when I look up I see Antonio looking at me uneasily, wondering why I’m waiting to get out of the car. We’ve already pulled up outside the office and according to my watch it’s 10.30.
    Once inside, too, I’m greeted by puzzled faces. Starting with Paola, the switchboard operator, whom in my hurry I barely acknowledge. Running to my office, I almost collide with Elena and all her papers.
    “Good morning,” she says, with a sigh.
    “I’m sorry… Good morning, Elena,” I reply, breathlessly.
    “Did you forget?”
    “What?”
    “That you had an appointment with Righini at nine this morning. We tried to call you, but your phone was off.”
    I take it out of my pocket and realize I haven’t recharged it. I haven’t had time.
    “Shit!” I cry, which isn’t my style at all. How could I have forgotten ? Then I try to regain my composure. “I guess the director’s been looking for me, too.”
    “Yes, I had to tell him that Righini was waiting for you, and he asked me to take