Free The First True Lie: A Novel by Marina Mander

happy.
    Or at least happy about red roses.
    Maybe she’s happy now too.
    The light part of her has left her body and the heavy part has stayed in bed, like with a puppet. The puppets’ stories exist even when they’re sleeping. And even when people die, their stories still exist.
    Once I had a high temperature and I thought it was chicken pox, because the next day I had itchy blisters everywhere. I was in bed but also out of bed.
    I saw myself from the outside. I was moving around the room, obsessed with finding something, a bow and arrow, that should have been between the door and the wardrobe, along with a tennis racket. I had to hit an important target, that’s what I needed it for, but I couldn’t find it, and if I found it I couldn’t manage to pick it up, because my body was still in bed. Only my will to pick up the bow was moving around the room, and my will had no hands to grab things with. It was separate from me, me who remained stretched out on the bed, mouthing words that made no sound or sense.
    Mama says she needs lightness.
    “But every day things are getting heavier. Even the mood at work is getting heavy.”
    Giulia raises her eyes to the heavens.
    “What can you do? The fact is, they’re assholes, every last one of them. Sure, if you hadn’t ended up alone with Luca, you could have kept painting instead of working in that stupid office, but not with a kid on your back.”
    Mama makes a sign for her to keep her voice down.
    “What’s Luca got to do with it? If they’re assholes, they’re assholes.”
    But I understand, it’s not easy to paint with someone on your back. Still, I thought, maybe if Mama stopped working and rested at least for a little while, things would get better. Maybe if she stopped working she’d go back to being an artist and paint something better than what we’ve got hanging in the living room.
    Will there be any fruit juice left for when Davide comes over?
    I’ll tell him Mama’s at work, but it’ll seem strange if the fridge is empty and there’s nothing for a snack. We need a little snack and some juice at least.
    Supplies will run out sooner or later and Blue will end up with an empty bowl. Poor guy. It’s amazing how such a small cat can eat so much.
    The kitchen looks awful, like when you get home after being away for a while. I don’t think Davide will mind. His house is always a mess, worse than it is here. Good thing at least there are some leftovers in the fridge.
    I eat some gelato. Sometimes when Davide comes over he brings something. As long as it’s not his sister’s cookies, the ones shaped like hearts or stars that look great but then when you eat them you almost break a tooth.
    I go and lock the door to Mama’s room with Mama inside.
    If Davide wants to go in there, I’ll say that Mama doesn’t want anyone to because I looked in her drawers. That’s why her room is locked. It’s not completely a lie, it’s even half true, because I really did go looking in her drawers a few weeks ago. I wanted to read what she’d written the night before. She’d stayed up late writing in the living room and I wanted to know what was really on her mind. She’d seemed in a worse mood than usual.
    I didn’t find the pages. I found tights, underwear, and a red thing shaped like a willy hidden underneath her tights and underwear.
    You push a button and the thing turns on and goes
vrrrrr,
like a blender.
    Mama went through the roof.
    “Never, ever touch my things again—never, ever.”
    Or your red thing, I thought, but I didn’t say it, because she was mad enough already.
    I didn’t even tell her what I was looking for and why; it seemed impossible to straighten things out. I started to sweat like it was the middle of August.
    “Have I ever come nosing around in your room? Have I ever opened your shitty private box where you keep all your junk? Have I ever spied on you?”
    Who knows, I thought. I don’t think so.
    “Then why do you do it to me? What