“And what do you think my true reasons are?”
“It’s simple: you want me to become a Communist because you are one,” he said, with some brutality.
“So?”
“So, according to your own words, since you hold me in high esteem … it bothers you that someone whom you esteem could prefer not to be a Communist … To you, the fact that a person might be worthy of esteem without being a Communist is a rebuke, an insult.”
“I don’t understand what you’re getting at.”
“It’s obvious,” Maurizio said, “we all want to improve, perhaps even become the best version of ourselves … but the Communists believe that it is impossible to
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improve without joining their cause … The fact that I — a person whom you hold in high esteem — am not a Communist makes you question your own faith … It feels like a contradiction. You’ve admitted as much yourself. You say: we want the best people to join us, so that only the dregs, the refuse, will be left behind. Since you don’t consider me to be the dregs, you want me to become a Communist … If I don’t, you might begin to wonder whether in fact it is true that Communism contains an infallible truth … In other words, my very existence as a man worthy of esteem who does not embrace Communism could foment doubts which you fear more than anything and would like to avoid at any cost.”
Sergio drew a deep breath. After all, Maurizio was a reasonable man, and it should be possible to have a discussion without becoming overly excited. He said: “Perhaps you’re right … but from my perspective it simply means that I want to illuminate you and show you the error of your ways, or rather help you take the leap and make up your mind.”
“Thank you,” Maurizio said with an odd look, adding: “Actually, I’m prepared to take the leap and sign on to the cause if you are willing to employ an irrational argument, as I mentioned the other day … Rational arguments won’t win me over. But we are made of flesh and blood and where rational arguments fail, irrational ones can drive us to action. Signing up is not simply a question of being convinced, it’s a call to action … therefore if you employ the right argument I’ll sign up.”
Sergio’s heart was beating fast. “What is the right argument, then?” he asked, softly.
“I thought you already knew.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Maurizio removed a cigarette from the pack and played with it, leaning forward. “Well, there’s no use beating about the bush. It’s Lalla … If you let me take her to bed, I’ll sign up the next day. I’ll become a Communist for good.”
Sergio’s heart stopped racing. He felt completely calm and coolheaded. It was just as he had thought. The reality of knowing what argument would convince Maurizio, in other words discovering Maurizio’s weakness, changed everything; instead of feeling unsure of himself and inferior to Maurizio, he now felt confident and superior. Suddenly he was happy and completely lucid. Finally, he said to himself, Maurizio was in his power, after their many enervating
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arguments in which he had always — rightly or wrongly — come up short. “I already knew,” he said, after a brief silence. “I saw you two, or rather I saw how you grabbed her hand the other day.”
“I knew you saw us.”
“And now,” Sergio continued, still calm, “I should get up, insult you, and leave.”
“But you won’t,” Maurizio answered, calmly.
“No, I won’t,” Sergio said, trying hard to emulate his calm demeanor. “Why would you want such a thing?”
“It’s simple,” Maurizio said, and for the first time since Sergio had known him, he became agitated. “I feel, shall we say”—and here his voice became a whisper, as if oppressed by the weight of his feeling—“I feel a very strong attraction to Lalla … I desire her violently, that’s all … It’s stupid, but there it is … I’m attracted to her, it’s in my blood. I’m completely contaminated by this feeling and I can’t stop desiring her … I even offered to marry her.”
“She told me.”
“Since she doesn’t want to marry me, I don’t see any other way to get what I want …”
“But why do you desire her so much?” Sergio said, knowing that it was a stupid question.
“I just do.”
Sergio pondered the question for a moment, or rather pretended to. This feeling of power — after being powerless for so long — made his head swim, and it was difficult to formulate precise thoughts. “Why do you think I can get something from her that she has already refused? She’ll refuse me as well.”
“She won’t refuse. If you tell her, ‘I want you to go to Maurizio and do what he asks,’ she’ll do it.”
“You’re a creep, you know that?”
Maurizio answered calmly: “Why do you feel the need to insult me? I’m not forcing you … There’s nothing reprehensible about my feelings for Lalla … You can simply turn down my offer and I’ll never mention it again.”
Turn down the offer? Nothing would be simpler,
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Sergio reflected. But that was not what he wanted. In a certain sense that was his least attractive option. Turning down Maurizio’s offer would mean returning to his earlier, primitive state of insecurity and mistrust. He already had Lalla’s love, but it was no good to him. Holding on to that love, refusing Maurizio’s offer out of love for that love, would not help his situation. He needed to overcome Maurizio’s resistance, to convince him, to make him do what he wanted. “If I were to do what you ask … and I’m not saying I will … would you then do what I want?”
“Immediately … The next day, I’d request my Party membership.”
“But can’t you see,” Sergio said, realizing that the question was directed more to himself than to Maurizio, “that if I did this, your Party inscription would lose much of its value? Or even all of it?”
“Why?” Maurizio smiled. “What connection is there between Communism, which is a sociopolitical and economic theory, and my love for Lalla? None …”
“Your conversion would be neither spontaneous nor disinterested.”
Maurizio laughed. “Perhaps it would no longer be spontaneous, but is there really such a thing as a disinterested conversion? There is always a motivating interest of some sort.”
“And what if I refuse?”
“Then it would mean that Lalla matters more to you than the Party … in other words, you would be a bad Communist.”
“According to whom?”
“According to you Communists,” Maurizio added, harshly. “You’re just like the Christians. Christ said one should leave one’s family and follow him.”
“What would you think of me if I refused?”
“That you’re a bad Communist but a good lover.”
“And if I accepted?”
“That you are a bad lover but an excellent Communist.”
“And why would that make me a bad lover?”
“I think it’s obvious … What kind of question is that? What you want is reassurance.”
“What do you mean?”
“You want me to say that you can be both a good
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lover and a good Communist.”
“Go to hell.”
Once again, Sergio was annoyed. He needed something to help him regain his feeling of superiority. “Sorry … You may not believe me, given the subject of our discussion at this little café table, but I love Lalla.”
“I don’t doubt it,” Maurizio answered, completely serious.
“I find it hard to control my feelings.”
“I can understand that.”
“What would you do if you were in my shoes?” Sergio asked, abruptly. Then, realizing how naïve his question sounded: “No, don’t answer me. It’s a silly question.”