For more than thirty years Silvio had been holidaying in the same resort. Apart from the fact that the small village on the Apennine liked him, the man considered himself now too old, to change locations, perhaps choosing for once the sea instead of the mountain. As a good habit he already knew that he would find everything unchanged as every summer: country, people, condo with garden, trees and flowers. For fifteen years his neighbor was Mrs. Elvira who was exactly the same age and who made the same methodical, solitary and collected life that he did. More than a condominium, theirs were beautiful two-family terraced houses with a detached entrance, all with a large green space. Elvira's garden bordered on hers. The portion of Elvira's lawn had nice a plum tree. Under the tree, Elvira, sitting on an old sun lounger, spent hours on the sun. Throughout the month of August Silvio saw Elvira walk in his garden, read sitting under the plum tree, and crochet.
For fifteen years Elvira had been chatting with Silvio, but only brief conversations so as not to upset their desire for quiet. Elvira's family, children and grandchildren, were far away at the seaside; Silvio's family were even further away and quieter, they were all at the cemetery. Silvio was alone, he had only a little fox named Rocky. The garden was Rocky's kingdom. The little dog spent all year in the city, closed in the two-bedroom of Silvio, and so the lawn, the flowers, the hedges and the helmets of the holiday month in the mountain house were his joy and that of Silvio in seeing him happy to run to the ground. From the veranda the elderly holidaymaker contemplated a cypress, two slender pines, a rose garden and a centuries-old fig whose roots protruded from the ground. Silvio knew all the lights that the slow passing of the summer hours put in the garden; he knew every flower, every bush, and so every year he could tell how much the jasmine hedge bordering the Elvira lawn had grown or how many new leaves the fig had put. Her friend Elvira was a little overweight, but still agile despite the ailments of the years; and was a familiar figure to him, as familiar was his voice and his smile. Silvio already knew the words he would say to him, nothing changed rapidly now in his life and that of Elvira, and every year he found in his mouth the same speeches. He had only seen his red cat change. As a child he was, he had become first sturdy, big, mischievous and strong, then gradually he had become entangled, and had become quiet and old as his friend: like him.
The morning after his arrival, which had taken place in the evening, the elder went to the verandah and stood stunned, casting his gaze over the hedge of jasmine. Elvira's house had been renovated, embellishments had been made: plaster, painting with shutters, new flooring on the terrace and a profusion of magnificent vases with beautiful flowers smelling of nursery. Garden chairs with large cushions, two deckchairs, a green gazebo, a swing sofa and a modern coffee table with their respective chairs, complemented the space below the plum tree. He trembled: "Elvira...? Where will Elvira be?" She looked around with circumspection and with regret found that her friend was not there. He phoned the landlord who gave him the sad news: Elvira had died in the spring from an incurable disease. "There will be boys and girls of today, my peace is over," Silvio said to the wagging Rocky, peering past the hedge unmoored and saddened by the bad news he had just received. But he couldn't stay away from his porch, his lookout and his cool-down place, and so he stood guard waiting to find out who the new neighbors were.
She was young, agile, sporty beautiful and above all alone. He was pleased. "At least I'll see a fresh face," Silvio thought. Trying not to show his curiosity, he looked with circumspection. The woman could be twenty-five or thirty years old, she was lying on the sunbed to sunbathe. Though they had passed by a long time at eleven o'clock in the morning he was still in his dressing-gown. A white robe of airy cloth with lace and behind the large sunglasses had a lazy air, almost bored. She was not made-up and her beauty smelled of sleep, it was all soft and voluptuous. He noticed to look at her with pleasure. And when the woman, smoked a cigarette, picked up her long dead hair to get back into the house, Silvio felt pervaded by a sense of loneliness, but at that moment Rocky barked attracting the attention of the woman who pointed her face at him and smiled at her. Silvio also smiled at her; He would have sent her, if he dared, a kiss on his fingertips, for gallantry, but he replied with a shy: "Good morning...".
From that moment on, a holiday of contemplation began for the elder. The young neighbor made no noise, never spoke on the phone aloud, received no visits and no loud radios or televisions rang out at home. Even without noise, he led a life, full of movement: in the morning he finished cleaning the house, sunbathing on the veranda, smoking, reading a book, or immersed in his smartphone, in the afternoon he went out in a gym suit for a walk in the paths and in the evening he was always very elegant, with delicious summer clothes, low-cut and bright colors. Silvio knew all his clothes after two weeks and some liked him more; every night he said to Rocky: "Hopefully today he will put the blue one with flowers; we hope that today we will wear the blue skirt."
When she wore a new dress she studied it in all the details. By looking at her, she could figure out where she was going when she left, and what she was doing outside the house. He knew if he was going for a walk or errands. Like him his mysterious neighbor never went to public places or in the country and this filled him with complacency; meant that the neighbor disdained gatherings, dances, people and din: she loved like him, the quiet but active life. For a couple of days, however, the young woman came home late at night with packets and packets. Before entering the house, she would sit under the gazebo and enjoy herself as a little girl unpacking the packages by pulling them out of a backpack. Silvio also had fun: hidden in spying on her in the shadow of the night. From a distance Silvio could not see what the woman was getting out of her bag, but fantasized about the contents: "Dear Rocky... will be gifts of admirers and spaters or our neighbor is a Lupin in skirt. What if that's the robbery of some of your shots? We are oblivious to everything, we must investigate."
by kork75
