10. One plus one makes seven?

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It was a peaceful evening. The sun was slowly setting behind the horizon. Only a few people were sitting around us at tables of the little coffee shop. After all, who wanted to drink coffee this late in the day? Pigeons were picking at breadcrumbs on the street. A gentle breeze was blowing from the ocean. Yes, all in all, very peaceful.

“Damn! How am I supposed to get this?”

I punched the exercise book with all the strength I could muster.

“By concentrating?” Giacomo suggested in an annoyingly calm and simultaneously slightly amused voice. “Perhaps if we chose an example, something that is familiar to you, something you can relate to...”

“How should any of this be familiar to me? (30 - 5) × x = 75... how am I supposed to know what x is if it doesn't say what it is anywhere?”

“That's what solving equations is all about. Let's see, what would be a good example... do you shop for clothes often?”

“I wish,” I mumbled, not very pleased by the subject change. “My mom buys all my clothes, or tells me what to buy. Do you think otherwise I would be dressed like this?” With disgust, I pointed towards the woolen sweater and the long brown skirt I was wearing.

“Your mother is very... conservative?” Giacomo asked, looking me up and down, apparently instinctively aware that this was a tender subject.

“You can say that again. And she holds the purse strings. If I had any money of my own...”

“Ah, so you would like to shop for clothes? Have you imagined doing it?”

“What else do you think I'd do during Sunday service?”

“Well then,” Giacomo said, “Imagine that you want to buy some Prada dresses.”

A dull moan of longing escaped me.

“Giacomo, why are you doing this to me? Isn't math torture enough?”

“Imagine that you want to buy some Prada dresses,” he repeated, “Each dress normally is 30 Dollars, but they're on sale today, so you can get them for only 25 Dollars.”

“25 Dollars.” My voice was toneless. “A Prada dress for 25 Dollars. Tell me, Giacomo, have you ever entered a women's clothing store?”

“No.”

“Well, I didn't think so. “

“Shall we get back to the subject? 30 minus 5 makes 25.”

“Thank you,” I said acidly. “That much I know.”

“Good. You now know that each dress costs 25 Dollars. And you have 75 Dollars in your purse. How many dresses can you buy?”

“Three of course! What has that got to do with...” My voice dwindles as I stared down at the numbers: 30 – 5, 75.

“Three?”, I asked, carefully. “The number I'm looking for, this x, it's three?”

Giacomo leaned back, grinning.

And so it went on and on. The Prada dresses became exceedingly more numerous and extravagantly priced. When even Giacomo couldn't justify the insane new pricing policy of the world famous provider of designer clothing anymore, we moved on from dresses to shoes and from shoes to handbags.

I only wished all of this could have been real. I would have had enough clothes to last me a lifetime. Stunned, I realized I was actually having fun – a bit. I had no doubt what the reason for that was: he was sitting across from me. Giacomo made me feel like I wasn't being tutored but rather like I was studying with someone. With a good friend, who took me for who I was and didn't lecture me.

I had never had that experience before. The only one of my friends who was any good at tutoring was, unfortunately, also an expert in lecturing. Giacomo was different from Sandra, and not just because he was about twice as big and had a three-day beard. He made me find most of the answers by myself. And I had a reason for trying hard that I didn't have before: I never cared if Sandra thought I was a dumbass. That, too, was different with Giacomo. So the tutoring went well, by my standards.

Of course, there were those times when I stared at him, my mouth slightly open, my eyes unfocused, and he had to ask me a question two or three times until I heard. He probably thought I was tired. I didn't say anything about the true reason.

Finally, we were finished for the day. I slammed shut my exercise book and leaned back, sighing. “Phew! That was hell!”

“Well, you know what they say.” He flashed his dazzling smile at me. “The devil's supposed to wear Prada.”

“Yeah. I think I believe that now.”

I watched Giacomo, my eyes half-closed. While this day certainly would have other benefits, especially regarding my knowledge of equation solving, I had not forgotten my original intention of investigating the mystery that was before me. And what I had seen during the evening had only deepened my suspicions about Giacomo.

Hardly ever had he used one of the schoolbooks to look up a solution. He had flatly refused the calculator I had offered him. It seemed like he knew everything I was just beginning to learn and had a brain like a computer. The questions were more puzzling then ever: why was he living this life? By now, I had no doubt he could have any other life of his choosing. So why?

I almost asked him, but then stopped myself. Why? My curiosity was eating me up inside. Yet if there was one thing greater than my curiosity, it was my fear that, as before, he would be enraged by my prying into his life and that maybe he wouldn't want to see me again. As I looked at him, his tanned face shining with rare joy in the sunset, his eyes lit by an inner light, I couldn't even bare the thought. Slowly, I swallowed.

“And now?” I wanted to know. “Was this a one-off?”

The mirth drained from Giacomo's face. He looked at me, an inscrutable expression on his face.

“Well,” he said slowly, “I guess that depends on you. I mean... we could... if you wanted to...”

“Yes,” I said, leaping at my chance, “I mean, I probably still have tons to learn, right? This was only three days worth of homework. I've got another stack at home that's twice as big, and I should take care of it if I don't wanna flunk the math test.”

“And there are other subjects, too.”

“Exactly. I'm terrible at biology.”

“So we'll do this again?”

“If that's all right with you.”

“Of course.”

There was an awkward pause. Suddenly, I remembered something. I reached into my backpack and pulled out my purse. “Sorry, I nearly forgot. Of course I can't expect you to do this for free... I don't know what the usual rate for tutoring is, and I haven't really got that much money with me, but...”

I looked up, and the look on Giacomo's face made me stop mid-sentence.

“That is why you think I'm doing this?” he hissed. “For money?! Bah!” He spat onto the street. The stares of the few remaining guests should have told him that this custom wasn't very acceptable in the USA, but he didn't seem to care. He just glared at me.

“I... I'm sorry,” I said in a weak voice, dropping my purse back into the backpack. “I didn't mean to... I mean I know you don't have much money and... and I just wanted to give you something in return for helping me, that's all.”

His gaze softened. Hesitantly, he stretched out his hand, taking mine. “You have given me something. Have you any idea how long I have been sitting alone in that miserable hole they call a shelter? You've given me a pleasant evening with... a friend.”

Friend. Why did that word cause such a chaos of feelings inside me? I liked the guy, didn't I? Why wouldn't I want to be his friend?

'Because I like him', I answered myself. 'Because I like him very, very much. More than a friend. More than is good for me, probably.'

“Is it a long time since you have had a pleasant evening?” I asked, tensed for one of his angry rebuttals. Instead, his eyes got a faraway look and he said: “Yes. Quite a long time, actually.”

“Then I'd be pleased to do this again, and you have my word I won't mention money again. Except when we're talking about Prada dresses, of course.”

That made him laugh, and I enjoyed the sight probably more than I should have.

<3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3

Over the next few days, I became increasingly studious. My mother was delighted, and so very proud of me. Jen was disgusted and threatening to kick me. But neither of these things really mattered.

Something was happening. Something wonderful. Or at least I thought it was. One day, when we met, Giacomo didn't sit across from me. Instead, he took a seat beside me. A few days later, when we had left Prada behind and turned to Gucci, he draped an arm around my shoulders. And I didn't know how it happened, but somehow my arm ended up around his waist. Through the leather I could feel the warmth, the solidity of him. It became increasingly harder to keep concentrating on math. But somehow, I managed.

And finally, it happened. The miracle occurred. What I hadn't dreamed of in my wildest dreams actually became reality:

I passed the math test.

Okay, I guess that's not what you were hoping for. Trust me, I know the feeling. But it was pretty awesome, all the same. After all, it was the first math test I'd ever passed – without cheating, that is.

“Great”, Jen commented as I showed her her my result. “Now you can finally send that tutor of yours packing and get back to real life.”

Staring out of the classroom window at two doves on the roof of the neighboring building, I shook my head.

“No”, I said, my voice think with emotion. “I... I don't think I can.”

Jen peered at me suspiciously.

“Ange? Ange, are those tears in your eyes?” she demanded. “Ange, I don’t know what's got into you. You take school way too seriously these days.”

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Math + Giacomo + Angela = Rooooomance  :)

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Chapter = good ???

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Robert = always wrighting :) :)

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