After a while, I say, "I don't like muscles that are so exaggerated. It's scary."
Oliver bursts into laughter.
He seems determined to find me a boyfriend. From his kindergarten teacher to the handsome neighbor who recently moved in nearby, he approaches everyone proactively and asks if they are single.
I even start receiving occasional messages from unknown numbers on WhatsApp. The gist is, "Hi, Macy, your son Oliver gave me your phone number. Interested in going out for a drink?"
And some are more direct: "Hi, Macy, you're really pretty and sexy."
Yeah, my WhatsApp profile picture used to be a cloud, but now it is changed to a selfie.
It's Oliver's doing, of course.
After rejecting several men in a row, I finally can't take it anymore and frown at Oliver, saying, "If it weren't illegal to hit kids in Italy, you'd be dead already."
Oliver sticks out his tongue and pretends to be innocent, saying, "I'm just concerned about your love life, that's all."
The next day is Monday, and as soon as I arrive at the office, the manager rushes in, saying there are bonuses to be distributed. I join the queue, not expecting what is to come: a weekend voucher for a five-star forest hotel in Tuscany, with the option to bring a family member for free.
Everyone's mouths hang open in astonishment, and once they regain their senses, they start wondering if the boss has gone crazy, suddenly becoming so generous.
I look at the two vouchers I receive and fall into a silent daze. After a while, I tremble slightly, perhaps because the air conditioning in the room is too cold.
On Saturday morning, I drive to the hotel with Oliver. We leave the city and follow the highway towards the countryside. The landscape gradually changes from hills to mountains, and the vast forest stretches out like a serene and distant sea.
The white, retro-style carved hotel stands amidst the forest. I enter the lobby with Oliver and look through the glass wall, seeing the vineyards on the hills behind the hotel, like a flowing oil painting.
A staff member helps us put our luggage on a golden trolley and takes it to our room. While I am checking in at the front desk, Oliver has already run to the nearby sofa, eating the chocolates provided for free on the table. Just as I turn to look for him, the large screen TV in the hotel catches my eye. It is on silent mode, displaying rolling news.
During a stage of the presidential elections in a certain South American country, they are giving speeches on stage. Occasionally, the camera pans to the audience, and a cold, handsome face catches my eye. The man slightly turns his head and exchanges a few words with the young person next to him before the camera reluctantly moves on.
Oliver also notices that man and then steals a glance at me.
I lower my head and extend my hand to him. "Let's go to our room."
Oliver takes a couple of quick steps and puts his hand in mine. "Does the room have a balcony?"
"Of course."
"Yes!!!" He starts pulling me along.
"The front desk said there's a spa and swimming pool on the lower floor."
His steps come to a halt. "Mom, I didn't bring my swimsuit."
"I've already prepared it for you. It's in the suitcase. The one with SpongeBob SquarePants."
We enter the elevator.
Inside, I hold Oliver's hand and look at my reflection in the mirror.
At some point, I think, "Is this person really me?"
But who else could it be, besides me?
The days pass peacefully. I am busy with work, received a raise, and even got promoted. I start handling major projects like the Morandi European Tour, becoming the envy of everyone in the company.
But good times are always short-lived. In June, the manager has to entertain a VIP client and takes me along.
The venue is a private room at a Michelin-starred restaurant, with an elegant ambiance and exquisite dishes. Especially the vintage candles on the table, flickering and creating a subtle atmosphere.
I follow the manager into the private room, but with just one glance at the client, I know I'm in trouble.
This person often buys art for his collection from us. He's in his fifties, extremely obese, shuttling between Greece and the United States for his electronics business. And because of military connections in family, he achieved great success.
In short, he's a pretentious nouveau riche. Whenever he visits our gallery, he insists on having a beautiful woman accompany him, enjoys plying her with alcohol, and taking advantage of the situation.
But my manager is a nice guy. He calls over a waiter to prepare drinks and then whispers in my ear, "Don't worry, you can say you're sick and taking medication, and I'll drink on your behalf."
Being a rank lower than my manager, I awkwardly smile, still contemplating, when three servings of red shrimp soup arrive at the table.
After the shrimp are shelled, they are stewed in extra virgin olive oil, scallions, and white wine, garnished with tomatoes and thyme.
"This soup is the most refreshing for the summer. I'm always like this at the dining table, If you like wine, just raise your glass. If not, have water or soup. Enjoy." The client says.
I freeze. He wasn't like this before.
The client even smiles specifically at me. "Miss Macy, you're too thin. Is there any dish you particularly like? Eat a bit more."
I fake a smile. "Thank you."
Seeing him start to eat calmly, without any excessive gestures, I finally relax and join in. I haven't even had lunch today due to my busy schedule. As the food enters my taste buds and reaches my stomach, my whole body feels at ease.
The dinner ends much faster than expected, and the contract is quickly signed at the table. We only open a bottle of red wine, with half of it being consumed by the manager. On my side, I have a lemon sparkling water.
After the dinner I go to the restroom. Then I walk back to the private box, passing by the terrace. That's when I hear someone on the phone saying, "It's all a misunderstanding, all a misunderstanding. Miss Macy didn't mention her relationship with you before, and I didn't know. Rest assured, she hasn't had a drop of alcohol tonight."
My heart suddenly feels numb, like a window with a draft.
The voice on the other end of the phone is hoarse, diluted by the electronic waves, too faint to be heard clearly, and in the end, there's just a light cough.
I see.
From the experience coupon of Forest Hotel to today's unexpectedly smooth business signing, I got everything.
Back in the private room, the manager's face is flushed from drinking, but he only stares into my eyes. "What's wrong? Why are your eyes red?"
I tighten my lips. "Nothing. Let's go."
The manager called a taxi, and I stand on the cement steps next to the green belt. The night has already darkened, and the city lights shimmer in the darkness.
I lower my head to check the time on my watch, then look up. The taxi has arrived. Subconsciously, I glance to the left and see the greenery illuminated by a warm yellow light, and a familiar car parked there.
"Macy, get in." The manager sitting in the passenger seat urges me.
I keep silent, but as I see the rear window roll down, a hand emerges, young, slender, with a cigarette pinched between the index and middle fingers, exuding a casual elegance.
"Macy?"
"I;m here."
I get into the car, and the driver turns on the radio.
It's a music station, playing Coldplay's "Yellow."
For some reason, my mind suddenly recalls that there's a small mole on the second joint of the index finger of that hand.
Summer vacation has arrived.
I take Oliver for a lap around the sports hall and finally find that small figure wearing white protective gear and a helmet in a corner.
The foil moves quickly through the air, forming a beautiful flower, while the sharp blade reflects a cold light, resembling waves from a distance.
Upon seeing us, Lily takes off her helmet, revealing a face dampened by sweat. She smiles and says, "Oliver! Macy!"
She's one year older than Oliver and has started elementary school this year. With a round face, big eyes, bangs, and a missing front tooth, she looks even cuter when she smiles.
Oliver also looks at Lily, completely captivated. I can only pat his shoulder and say, "Come on."
Oliver finally comes to his senses and picks up a water bottle, running over to hand it to Lily, while still staring at her. "You're really pretty."
"Thank you." Lily has become an innocent and guileless girl under the care of her uncle, Noah. Her big eyes gaze at others without any defenses, like a newborn fawn.
"Once you're done with training, shall we go horseback riding together?"
"I would love to," Lily says, "but I don't know how to ride. The horses are too tall."
"The equestrian center has ponies for kids," Oliver says, "Don't worry, I like you, and I'll protect you."
Lily blushes.
I listen to the conversation between the two children, amused and exasperated. I don't know who this kid learned from, being so shameless and sweet-talking.
Fortunately, Noah is outside on a work call and didn't hear.
Lily's father passed away before she was born, and Noah, her uncle, plays the role of a father figure in her life. I can't imagine how furious he will be hearing another boy trying to flirt with his girl.
This summer, it was because Lily enjoys fencing that Noah specifically brought her to Italy. They will spend two months in intensive training, and Noah arranged for a former Olympic fencing champion from Italy to be her coach.