The Ball. Erik Pethersen

me.

      «What issue?» I asked, I am puzzled.

      «That matter regarding that couple: that lady, or as you refer to as, well...»

      «Alright, I get it: the slut.»

      «That’s it, later we’ll get to it» the notary replied with a big smile. «Stop stirring that thing, please.»

      «Sure, I am sorry» I say keeping a straight face while pressing the button on the stirring mug that I am holding in my hands, to increase the speed.

      «Brando, tell me: the golden teaspoon that I gave you did not suggest anything to you? Did you think that that gift could have some sort of a secret meaning?»

      «No, I did not think much of it: should I have? I thought it was just a present from our fat-bellied client from the valley».

      I go away while I hear Alessandro grumble behind me and I unwillingly get back to the main room to drink my coffee, admiring the castle and the mist from the windows.

      I wonder if she smiles at everyone this way: it won’t certainly be the first time she smiles and I won’t certainly be the first person she has turned to with such innocence. On the seventh floor there are a financial company and a language school: I would go for the first option.

      I hear the door open behind me. I greet Domenica who is coming in, dragging a heavy bag. She strides to her office. Busy day with real estate deeds today, like every Tuesday. I glance at the big silver clock in the waiting room near the door: it is 7:51am. I don’t really feel like working. I take a glimpse at the city again: I can only see the blurred shape of some buildings. From here, it looks so quiet and it is hard to think that there are thousands of people there stuck in the morning traffic and busy trying to start their day.

      I need to file several documents from last week. Later this morning then, there will be two extra tasks which are all set since yesterday. Luckily today there won’t be any legal counselling service, however after lunch there will surely be half the documents to be filed, which will take up a lot of my time. Also, all the real estate deeds which will be signed in the afternoon: Domenica will ask me without fail to do something like some missing energy certificate. Around 7:00 pm the documents to be filed will not be all done and that will mean that I have worked for eleven hours in a row, I will be tired and ready to dream of the lift to start my journey home. The slut comes back into my mind now. She was unconsciously being left out of the daily agenda through some mysterious brain function: I guess that the matter will be somehow included before the evening, following the notary’s request.

      At around 6 pm already, I probably will start thinking about the lift going down and maybe stopping on the 7th floor. Maybe she finishes working at 7 pm too. She has made a big impression on me: a glow blended with a touch of melancholy which does not overshadow her light but it makes it brighter.

      I leave the window and I go towards my burial recess. The purple light shows that the computer has been switched on and Windows is loading... the working day is about to begin. User ID and password: I am ready.

      Registering corporate deeds is one the tasks I carry out in the office, among many others. It is quite a repetitive job but after all it is also soothing and relaxing because I don’t need to interact with other people directly and it doesn’t imply any online verbal conversation.

      I open the list made by Tamara: last week several companies were registered, some statute regulations had been modified, there had been a merge and five share transfers. It comes to a total of fifteen files to submit to the Board of Trade and this amount doesn’t brighten up my negative thoughts from earlier on, making me take into account the possibility to finish my work before the evening, including all the breaks.

      As I usually do, I start with the share transfers which are not too technical and they take me less than half an hour each.

      The first one concerns a company owned by several people from the one family whose founder is now in his seventies and is trying to leave the business. I fill in the fields concerning the new capital stock, I grant the father a smaller share and the daughter a bigger one, I check their personal details and I consider the first file already done.

      Check. Sign. Send. Amend. Sign. Check. Send. File registered: I will be sent the receipt shortly.

      While waiting, I type Sbandofin Brescia in the search box and I press enter: the name is fascinating and I have always noticed it on the plates placed in front of the reception desk. Who we are, where we are, what we do, loans for your residential home, for your holiday home, debt consolidation, business funding, consumer credit, liquidity problems consulting. I stop midway through the page: the company does financial mediation for every need.

      I stare at the screen. That girl, or woman, could persuade a penguin too from the Antarctic to purchase an air conditioner: she could manage to grant loans to people looking for cash to pay off other debts. Despite its name, I think that the company is a trustworthy mediator. Maybe she carries out a very boring job dealing with central credit register inquiries, looking for better spreads, filling in request forms to send to the banks. Considering that the first hypothesis is too fanciful and the second one is too sad, I just go for somewhere in between, which I can’t focus on precisely.

      The receipt has arrived: I save the pdf file. I can go on with the next share transfer.

      ⁎⁎⁎⁎⁎⁎⁎

      I hear a loud clacking down the corridor and I saw a head of fair hair coming through my office.

      «Hi Bra, are you doing okay?» Tamara says.

      She cheerfully glanced at me and she walks to the window, beyond my desk, holding a cup in her hands.

      «Hi Tammi, all is great» I reply. She looks through the glass panes and sips her coffee, with her back to me. Her wild hair fall down on a purple jumper. She has a pair of very tight black leather trousers and she wears a pair of quite high stilettos.

      «According to you, why is my car remote control not working anymore?»

      «What do you mean, Tammi?» I asked, turning to her. «The battery could be low!?» I tried to imply.

      «You sound like my husband: I am not stupid, you know! I have already tried to change it but it’s still not working.»

      «Well, I guess there is something else wrong with that.»

      «Great. What would I do without you, Bra» she replied sarcastically. She turns around, she leans her back against the windowpane and grumbled. «I think I’ll go to the car dealer» she added then.

      «Good idea» I stated.

      «Bra, do you think that these trousers are too flashy?» she asked all of a sudden stroking her leg with the palm of her left hand.

      «Well, they don’t go unnoticed, I think.» Like the jumper, the shoes, the bleached blond hair, virtually transparent.

      «So, you too think that they are too flashy?»

      «What do you mean by you too? Did anyone by any chance stopped you on the street to tell you?» I was being sarcastic.

      «No, no-one. Anyway, I just walked through the underground car park» she answered with a smile. «My husband said that they make me look a bit tarty.»

      «Really? Maybe just a little, but not that much. Well, it depends...»

      «So, you feel the same too» Tamara interrupts me. «I think that you men have a problem with leather.»

      «I don’t have any problem with leather. Those trousers are nice, they suit you. They look a bit... now, I mean, they look refined... like an upper-class escort girl...»

      «Well Bra, that’s enough» she interrupts me. «I go back to work, thank you for all the compliments.»

      «But I said that I think they are nice, Tammi.»

      «Yes, I got it.» She gets to the door, she turns around and says: «Have a nice day».

      «You