Twinkle Read online

  “I am glad to meet you. I am Adriana Primi and I am half Italian”, I introduce myself to her with a smile.

  “I suppose the other half is English if I judge from your perfect pronunciation.

  I nodded my head in affirmation.

  “I love Italy. I have come to your country many times. My favourite city is Florence”, she continued.

  “I was living there until this morning”, I explained pulling my suitcase from the middle of the room, where Christine had placed it, to put it on my bed.

  “I would say you don’t look like an Italian, your colours are somewhat different As for English, no way”. We both laughed at her comment.

  “Well, how are things around here?” I asked her.

  She came next to me to help arrange my clothes in a wardrobe next to the bed that I assumed it was mine, since the other one was untidy.

  “I looked around. The place is wonderful. You have a feeling that you are in a fairytale setting”.

  “I noticed”, I replied smiling “and our room is not that bad”. I looked around the spacious room with the two large curved windows which were overlooking the garden. The walls were made with red brick and the floor with dark wood. There were two comfortable beds on either side, each with a wardrobe. Under the windows there was an imposing big desk with a computer at one end. Two bookcases on the left side clearly indicated it was a study.

  I placed my last pullovers and some jeans on the lower selves. Christine was already sitting at the edge of the bed. I sat next to her looking around.

  “Did you meet anybody here?” I asked her thinking that she had come earlier.

  “Not too many. Only some who also came earlier for the language. Besides, my time was limited. I imagine most of the people will come today”.

  I agreed with her and stretched my body because of tiredness.

  “I did not let you rest since you arrived. This was not very polite of me. I am sorry, I am going to leave you now to relax a bit”, she said as she got up and headed to the door.

  “We will talk in the morning”.

  The door closed behind her.

  “We will talk in the morning”, I repeated.

  Christine was right, I needed time to relax, a hot bath and then a good sleep. Tomorrow would be a difficult day, really. I took the vanilla-scented shower gel, my large pink towel, which was my mother’s gift, and opened a brown door, the same colour as the floor to enter the room I thought was the bathroom. The water ran salutary on my tired body. I closed my eyes and surrendered to its relaxing power. I stayed a long time until I felt my body parts lose and relaxed. In a little while, I was covered with the bed linen, wearing black sportswear and wearing my hair up. I took a book to read but after a couple of pages my eyelids became desperately heavy. I thought I heard Christine entering the room but I could not move. I fell in deep sleep.

  Day one

  I was running hastily in a complex of corridors. I was alone, everything was very quiet but I was running in a panic. Suddenly, I found myself in front of the chapel of Cappella Sistina and without stopping I rushed inside, pushing the entrance forcefully. A soft, golden light was over everything. I looked at the windows but there was no sun. I tried to discover its source, but I looked as if it was jumping from everywhere. A man was standing at the centre, right under the middle of the roof; he seemed bathed in the same golden light. I moved towards him and I noticed that the light was becoming more intense, not allowing me to distinguish his face.

  Suddenly, the glow faded, outlining his figure. He was blonde; his hair looked like straws, he had a very white skin on which his large gold-green eyes were shining. He was very handsome. He was standing there like he was waiting for me with his hands extended towards me.

  Bewitched by his face I continued moving closer to him to discover that the light inundating the area was deriving from him.

  “Come, I will show you”, he said as he was holding my hands. “Look!”

  He pointed upwards. I followed his extended hand and faced the frescoes of Michael Angelo. There were illustrations from Genesis, the Second Coming and the prophets.

  “Do you see?” he continued in the same style.

  He took hold of my face, turning it toward the figure of Adam and Eve. At the centre of the picture there was a tree on which a woman snake was twisting gracefully. On the one side of the illustration the First humans Adam and Eve were giving in to the temptation, and on the other side they were being expelled from Paradise by an angelical figure wearing a red cloak.

  “Do you see?” he asked again.

  I was not sure what I was supposed to be seeing. I did not speak. I looked at him wondering.

  “Do you see beyond what you see?”

  I woke up sweaty and distressed. I looked at the clock on the bedside table next to me. It was only 6:30 in the morning. Outside, the dawn was just beginning. I looked at Christine’s bed. She was missing. That upset me even more. I was sure I heard her last night. I got up and made an effort to think clearly about the strange dream I had at night.

  “Do you see beyond what you see?”

  The words of the man, who was shining, were coming into my mind reminding me of an angel, at least in the way the painters had imagined them.

  What more, beyond the obvious, could I see at the frescoes of Cappella Sistina, the well known story of the Original Sin. Nothing different was coming to my mind. Perhaps I should find some copies that may be located in the library. A more careful study, a deeper look at the details, may reveal something to me.

  A noise at the window drew my attention. I turned and I looked at it. A white dove was standing there at the window sill and it was looking at me or towards me. I got up trying to have a better look. A light scent of lavender was around me. It is coming from Christine’s closet, I thought. I went on looking at the dove and it seemed that it was doing the same. I decided to approach the window out of curiosity. The minute I came in front of it, a second wave of scent, much stronger this time, hit me on the face. I looked at the top of the desk searching for traces of the bloom. There were not any. I bent my head in front of it and discovered two gold green eyes. Was this possible? Do dove’s eyes have such a colour, I asked myself. At that moment the door opened suddenly and the uninvited visitor flew in the branches of the tallest trees with a strong shake of its wings. I turned around and saw Christine coming.

  “Good morning. I did not expect to see you up so early”, she said as she was sitting on her bed in order to remove her boots. I wondered where she could have been so early in the morning. Maybe she was away since yesterday. I tried to be discrete and did not ask. This was a personal matter. However, I was sure I heard her entering last night. This was something I would not find out.

  “Good morning, Christine. It seems I rested a lot. The moment you left I slept almost instantly. It was good for me. That is why I woke up so early”. I did not tell her about the dream that had upset me.

  “I am sorry I left you alone during your first night here without a notice. I did not want to wake you up, so I did not come back”, Christine apologized creating new questions about my sense that I had heard her.

  It was because of tiredness I thought, the condition in which someone is found exactly before sleeping, nor being asleep or awake, and I tried to put myself at ease.

  “Never mind. As you said I was sleeping. I did not realize you were absent”.

  Christine went to the bathroom apparently to change clothes and get ready for the lecture.

  “Actually, what are you studying?” she asked me as she was standing in front of the door with a towel in her hands. The scene was somehow funny.

  “”Philosophy”, I replied smiling.

  She had a wince of admiration.

  “I have always liked philosophers. I think we are going to get on well. I hope you like theologians”, she declared smiling and shut the door behind her.

  “Are you using lavender”, I asked at the last minute.
r />   “No”, she yelled from inside.

  I looked at the room trying to locate the origin of the scent. It had disappeared completely. I went to the window for a moment searching for the dove. It had disappeared too. I looked at the grey landscape covered in fog. There were tall trees and greenery everywhere. This colour is so superb and here, watered with moisture, it was a thousand times more beautiful!

  Maybe a walk before the first lecture would do me good…

  I decided to take my first promenade in Oxford. I stood in front of my wardrobe and without difficulty, since I had not much choice, I grasped a pair of jeans and a checked flannel shirt. I tied a scarf around my neck to keep me warn. I was not sure about the body temperature I should maintain so I chose a thick, beige jacket.

  “Christine, we will talk later”, I shouted without being sure she would hear me.

  I went downstairs quietly and after walking on the grass I reached the paved sidewalk. I looked around trying to orient myself and followed the direction to the college, thinking about exploring its garden.

  At that time silence was prevailing in Trinity. Most of the people were probably sleeping. I walked around among the buildings for a while until I arrived at a garden. There was green everywhere. Wherever I looked, even at the stony building where students were living, the ivy was transforming the grey colour of the stone into a deeper one. And it was so bright and light that it was creating a sense of joy and tranquillity on me. I walked aimlessly a little more among the very tall trees. Further down I saw a bench with artistic carvings, surely from a different period. I went there and sat on it. Two boys wearing sportswear ran beside me along the paved path.

  “Good morning”, they greeted me politely.

  “Good morning”, I replied. After all, more people had an early awakening; I was not the only one.

  My thoughts went back to my dream and to the mysterious man who looked like an angel rather that a man. What if he was really an angel and he had come to warn me for something? Nevertheless, what connection, beyond my Italian origin, could I have with the frescoes of Cappella Sistina?

  I had enough faith to believe at least the existence of angels. But there was no way I could think that an angel would be visiting me in order to convey a message.

  This was completely crazy! What had happened to me and I was thinking of those things?

  A cold draft made me shiver. I glanced at my watch. I was late.

  If I wanted to be on time for my lecture I had to hurry up. I did not like the idea of entering a room full of unknown people after the start of the lecture. I headed south according to the instructions I had received from the secretary. A lot of people were moving to that direction. I stood outside for a few minutes looking at the building, before I decide to walk through its large oaken door. The stony decoration was dominant everywhere and the architecture of the arches with repeating roofs gave uniformity to the university campus. It could be a movie set.

  I took a deep breath and entered decisively. “Have a good start Adriana”, I said to myself at the threshold of the huge corridor. “C’e gente che viene, c’e gente che va”, “The crowd that comes, the crowd that goes”. I remembered the well known song ‘A casa d’ Irene’, my mother’s favourite, as I was looking at the crowd going back and forth, creating congestion and bustle.

  I saw dark brown doors here and there which were being opened by the students who wanted to attend their lectures. I had to find the classroom in which the first seminar would take place. I moved a little following the crowd. I thought the classroom was marked on the map the secretary had given me, somewhere at the end of the corridor, only I had forgotten it… I looked around. Many students seemed lost like me. They were stopping at the front of a door and then were walking down. “Have courage”, I said to myself “it is the first day, tomorrow everything will be better”.

  At the end of the long corridor, a dark wooden door was leading to the room in which I was supposed to be. I entered with my head down, looking quite embarrassed. With the corner of my eye I looked for an empty seat at the back. Fortunately, there were a lot. The classroom was large with high windows which had a view of the courtyard. The interior was rather modern, nothing like the façade of the building, and functional enough to serve the lectures’ needs.

  I sat down and gazed around me. Blond hair everywhere, two or three red ones and some chestnut, all of them together with white skin and most of them with blue eyes, I supposed. I wondered how I would look like in this uniformity. There was a petite girl sitting next to me. She looked at me and greeted me with a smile. Her long hair made a match with her blue eyes, a combination that referred to a Barbie doll.

  “Hi! I am Samantha Nouls”, she said extending her hand towards me. “My friends call me Sam”.

  “Hi! My name is Adriana Primi. My friends call me Adrian”, I returned her greeting. At that moment professor Wellington came in; if I remember his name correctly. He was tall, around fifty, with grey hair, dressed like all the professors I knew. Grey trousers, blue shirt and sleeveless checked pullover. There must be a dress code, I thought and smiled.

  Soon the seminar started. I was taking notes. The time passed quickly. Before I realized it, we had finished. I turned to Samantha, who was arranging her stuff.

  “Do you know in which classroom the “Philosophy of Religion” would take place? I have forgotten my map”, I said apologetically.

  She smiled showing sympathy to me.

  “Yes, of course. Let’s go together”, she suggested.

  We went ahead for the next class. The corridor was crowded again.

  We reached our destination a few doors further. As we were approaching in the crowd of students who were entering and exiting the classrooms, I saw him. But I could not believe my eyes.

  Blond strands of hair were falling mixed on his white skin and were shading his gold green eyes which were under the shade of his dense eyelashes. He was talking to a couple of boys and as I was moving towards him, making a big effort to take my eyes from him, he raised his eyes and saw me. My heart started beating fast. His look was inscrutable at first; it became surprised, suddenly drawing a huge question mark on his face. It must have seen something, something that caused puzzlement to him. His eyes were wide open, showing more its deep green colour that was playing with the light, creating shades. I looked around but did not observe anything important that could have created this reaction. I went on with steady steps and I was surprised to notice that he kept looking at me. Was I the one who created his surprise?

  “Wow, Adriana. Did you see him? Who would imagine that Oxford has such handsome guys!” Samantha whispered almost into my ear.

  “Who?” I asked, baffled by his unexpected reaction as we were walking towards the classroom.

  I turned around to take a look at him. He still had his eyes on me. I turned to Samantha.

  “You mean the blonde guy at the door, dressed in black?”

  “Yes, of course.”

  How was it possible not to have seen him? Even if I was blind, his figure would untangle like a dove among crows.

  We sat somewhere in the middle, among a group of girls who were chatting joyfully.

  “Oh, Camen is here! My God, that is such good luck!” a girl with a short chestnut-brown hair said to her friends.

  All of them, me included, turned around at the door, to realize that she was talking about him. It was sensible to draw attention with his appearance.

  “He is so handsome, so extremely handsome…” another girl declared, which made me look again.

  She was right. He was standing at the front row wearing black clothes that stressed out his white complexion. His shirt was a bit open at his chest allowing a black T-shirt to appear. As I was observing him with a wide look he caught up my sight. He looked at me intensely but not with wonder this time. His expression seemed complicated, as if he could not believe his eyes, as if he could not believe I existed.

  Being upset, I bent my he
ad. When I raised it again I noticed that he was still at the front row. I observed him as he was talking to the same boys in his group, with a somewhat tight style, as if he was making an effort to do something being careful not to look at me again.

  One of his friends told him something and he pointed at our seats, holding the conversation for a few more minutes. Then, he abruptly turned to our direction and moved towards us while he was persistently looking at me. For a moment, I thought he was coming to talk to me. I gulped and held my breath. However, he passed by me leaving an exquisite scent. I became dizzy and completely irritated by the influence that an unknown man had on me. I turned back to see where he had sat but I did not find him. As I was looking around the room, I saw him seating two seats away from me. He had his hand, or rather his fist, in front of his mouth, with his knuckles all white from the excess pressure. He kept looking at me so he saw all the movements I had made in order to find him. I wondered if we knew each other from somewhere but this would have been impossible. No way would I forget about him if I had seen him before. I turned ahead the minute the professor entered and the lecture started. In the meantime, with the edge of my eye I was looking through my hair that I purposely let fall towards his side. He continued looking at me. This made me feel uncomfortable and awkward. I tried to concentrate on Professor Scot’s words but this was impossible under these circumstances. I felt dizzy and closed my eyes making an effort to recover. A movement of his body brought up his scent again and I remained in the darkness, for a few moments, inhaling it.