Dear Lady, I know that this letter of mine will bring the indignation of her readers and probably his. But addressing a friend would seem to be inelegant and any bad judgment I risk pulling on me will never be worse than what I already say alone. I have been married for several years and have a lover for too long. I have never been a serial traitor, not even a simple traitor and in fact the only time I got interested in another woman, practically a second marriage has arisen. Which, I understand well, for my wife, the official one is even worse. I frequent this other lady, divorced, feeling perpetually guilty: for her and for those waiting for me at home. I know it may seem absurd but now I feel responsible for both in equal measure. I and “the other” we met in 2015 in Stockholm, during a business trip, she was still married at the time and accompanied her husband. One evening, for dinner, we had the opportunity to speak for a long time and it was a feeling of immediate closeness, of complete absolutely unpublished connection. And once back to Italy we started to feel, then to see us and in short, here we are, after ten years. The ten years, and the end of these summer holidays, are a point of no return. She asked me to choose. And I can’t choose.
Maximum
Massimo, not only I would not want to be in his place, I would not even like to be to mine because he made me practically impossible to answer them. As she rightly says, she is now entangled in two marriages and this prevents me from using the ruthless lightness that I would normally use in front of a “case” like his: softly. She tells of two wives and does it by putting on the plate the sense of responsibility that she feels towards both and I do not dare to handle such a shapeless and explosive matter and it is clear that knowing this shade of the story would kill its consort. But apart from the sense of guilt, which does not make us innocent, I ignore what binds her to one and the other woman. And it is perhaps an aspect on which it should focus during this countdown that began to “tick” under its existence by tearing it.
Why does it continue to be with his wife? And why, on the other hand, can’t he leave his lover? Reflecting on what she wants, really and independently of the consequences in one and the other case, is the only, very trivial advice that I feel like giving her. I hope to have his news.