The Silence of the Wave Read Free

You were … funny.” He broke off, surprised at what he was saying. “I’m sorry, maybe I said something stupid.”
    “Don’t apologize. I liked being funny, I liked making people laugh. It’s been ages since anyone reminded me of that.”
    They looked at each other for a few moments longer, unable to find anything else to say, while the engine coughed.
    “Well, good-bye then,” Roberto said finally.
    “Good-bye, and thanks again.”
    “Take the car to a garage.”
    “I will.”
    Roberto watched the car move away until it turned the corner and disappeared. Then he hurried to the doctor’s office.
    * * *
    “Sorry I’m a bit late.”
    “You’re out of breath.”
    Roberto gave a half-smile. “I just ran up the stairs, but before that I helped a woman to start her car. The battery was gone, so I had to push it.”
    The doctor did not ask for any further explanation. “How was your weekend?”
    “Not too bad. Actually, better than usual. I even went to a movie.”
    “That’s good. If my memory serves me well, you’ve never mentioned going to a movie since our sessions started.”
    “You’re right. I hadn’t been. In fact, I don’t even remember the last time I went. It must be ages.”
    “What did you see?”
    “A French film, set in a prison.
A Prophet
. Do you know it? Have you seen it?”
    “No, but I don’t go to the movies much either. Did you like the film?”
    “I don’t know. Some parts were realistic, showing the way things work in a prison. Others were completely absurd, though maybe I’m too influenced by the work I used to do. But it was nice to go to a movie. Imean, I’d forgotten what it was like, and I liked it a lot.”
    “Did you go to the movie with somebody, or by yourself?”
    “No, no. By myself.”
    “I’m very interested in the dream you mentioned last time.”
    “The one about surfing?”
    “Yes, do you want to tell me about it?”
    “The dream or the surfing?”
    “Whichever you like.”
    “You remember I told you I was born and brought up in California?”
    “Of course I remember. Your mother was Italian and married an American. Your father was a policeman.”
    “Yes, my father was a detective. We lived near the ocean, in a little town called San Juan Capistrano, between Los Angeles and San Diego.”
    “I imagine surfing’s quite a normal activity for someone born and brought up in a place like that.”
    Was it a normal activity? Roberto couldn’t remember—or didn’t
know
—if it was so normal. For a long time, on the occasions when he went into the sea, he was the youngest in the group. A child, between the adults and the waves.
    “I don’t know, really. I was very attracted by the waves, from the time I was very small. I started at the age of eight, with my father. I went surfing with him and his friends. There weren’t any other children.”
    “I remember seeing a film once, where a surfer goes right inside the tunnel created by the wave as it closes. Could you do something like that?”
    “It’s called a tube. Yes, I could do that.”
    They both fell silent. Now that the conversation had taken this unexpected turn, Roberto was trying to put his ideas in order and the doctor had that friendly but slightly enigmatic expression he sometimes had. An expectant expression. The silence lasted a couple of minutes, then Roberto resumed speaking.
    “I really liked surfing. Even though I can’t remember how it felt.”
    “What do you mean?”
    “It’s hard to explain, but I can’t remember what I felt. I
know
I liked it—I liked it a lot—but I can’t remember. I know, but I can’t remember.”
    The doctor nodded. Roberto would have liked to know what he was thinking. He would have liked the doctor to provide him with explanations—sometimes he had even tried to ask him—but, especially in cases like this, the doctor didn’t explain anything at all. Or rather, he didn’t even speak. He just nodded. Or else looked him in the eyes. Or slid