Sabi had been away on business in the north. When she got to Raff’s place, he was out, so she phoned him on his mobile.
“Where are you, amore?”
“At the Poly. – Where are you?”
“Sitting on your bed.”
“With or without your undies?”
“Porco, when are you coming home?”
Sabi hung up. As she did, she noticed a pair of zoccoli, or clogs, typically worn by Italians around the house, poking out from under the bed.
The zoccoli were old and worn. Her own zoccoli were pristine and new. Raff himself did not own a pair of zoccoli.
Sabi went out onto the landing and rang the neighbour’s doorbell.
“Do these belong to you?” she said.
“I’ve been looking for my zoccoli everywhere,” said the neighbour, hardly batting an eyelid.
If by now, of course, she had grown used to Raff’s ways, when he came home from work and tried to put his arms around her waist, Sabi pushed him away.
They used to fight like cats and dogs. In spite of his peccadilloes, however, Sabi was still in love with Raff.
“I can’t believe you did it with that zoccola! She is over fifty!”
“Dai, Sabi,” he said, “She was lonely.”
Sabi shook her head and closed the bathroom door. A moment later, she came back out.
Ignoring Raff, who was lying on the bed looking miserable, Sabi went onto the landing and, for the second time that day, rang the neighbour’s doorbell.
“I believe you also forgot this,” she said, handing the older woman her toothbrush.
*
“What are “zoccoli”?”
“You’ve never seen those Italian house shoes?”
“Like slippers.”
“You can’t spank anyone with “zoccoli” You’d do them an injury. But a “zoccola” could spank you with a slipper.”
“Now I’m confused.”
“A “zoccola”, my dear friend, is a lady of the night. Patrizia is having some fun with the language here.”
“Oh, now I get it,”
“Besides, she’s a psychiatrist. She has fun with your mind.”
George chuckled.
“Women always have fun with my mind.”
“Still,” said Giorgio, “you need to be a little more careful with those who live next door.”