Buona Fortuna

She found out about my work from the Internet and sent me an e-mail telling me that she felt a connection with my mission. She added a short bio, which Americans often do to introduce themselves from a distance.

Her mother was from Wroclaw. Her father `s ancestors from Firenza. This explained her name – Beata – which means buona fortuna, and is used in Italy as well as in Poland.

Beata liked Naples, Florida, where she lived, because of the warm climate and sophisticated lifestyle:

–We go partying on Marco Island all the time.

–Beato te! – lucky you – I responded on the phone, when she called.

–Not really… My parents are recently divorced.

–It happened in my original family too. How old are you?

–Nineteen.

–You will recover . What do you study?

–Psychology.

–It is one of my favorite subjects.

–I also visit a shrink.

–Why?

–I was molested by my father at the age of 9.

I developed a sympathy for Beata, and we exchanged many letters before she decided to come to NYC. She wanted to stay with me. I explained that a have a home office and my life is pretty busy:

You can stay one night here, then at the Hotel Astor next door, which is good and not expensive.

–Alright.

Beata sounded a little disappointed. Nevertheless, she didn`t make an offer to help me in the office, even though she allegedly was impressed with my publications.

She called more and more often, talking mostly about the new music CDs she purchased or fun she had with her coeds. Her closest «buddy» was Niurka, a promiscuous overweight girl who was picking up guys in the park. Niurka had in affair with Beata as well.

–Don`t you think it`s dangerous in our time of AIDS?

–Niurka stirs me up. Otherwise, I`m bored.

       ***

Beata arrived at the lobby of my apartment building dressed provocatively. Shiny red top with spaghetti stripes underlining her noticeable boobs. On the bottom she wore military type capri pants with numerous pockets and zippers, opening her bellybutton with its titanium jeverly. Piercing was done on her nose, ears, and – oh my! – a brow (must have been painful). She had, of course, for the whole package – several tattoos, which is not necessarily bad.

–Dzien dobry, – I greeted her. Rosumie po-polsku, ale nie movie.

–Hi. I totally forgot any of my childhood Polish.

Beata shook her hips and rolled the big suitcase. To the new young guard at the building, she was like spicy eye candy. He jumped to help her. It was OK with me.

Beata got the second room and her stuff was all over the place. She wanted to go out right away. I invited her to my friend`s art show downtown on Broadway. Beata pulled out of her purse a pack of bubblegum and was chewing along the way in the taxi I ordered.

At the gallery Beata was more interested in the Riesling than in the paintings. She became jealous when I kissed Cris and was wandering around with a wine glass filling it periodically while I was talking to people I knew. I didn`t even have a chance to get her involved. When she wasn`t drinking, she was preoccupied with biting her nails down to the skin – which was almost done previously anyhow.

On the way back I had planned to invite her to a Thai restaurant but she bought a sandwich and Coke. She ate this fast and proceeded to stop at every street vendor either in front of me or behind of me, never communicating. It looked like she didn`t want others to communicate with me either – one of the guys gave a compliment to my hat – I smiled back. Beata grabbed my hand and pulled me ahead. Then she suddenly started chatting with different people from the crowd, leaving me practically alone. Finally, I lost her.

She returned to the apartment like nothing had happened and went straight to the bathroom where she spent an hour, leaving the bathtub unwashed. Things evidently didn`t work between us, it was like a looming crisis. I couldn`t wait for her to move to the Astor so I could focus again on my projects.

Beata, on the other hand, wasn`t bothered by my discomfort and listened to the loud technomusic in the second room until midnight. I tried to interrupt her enjoyment by suggesting to study Italian together – I had a special travel tape.

–I don`t desire to know my fucking father`s language and I`ll never go to Italy.

Well, despite her convinced fascination with me, I couldn`t find any connecting points. Beata thought otherwise. In the middle of night she came to my bed naked and cupped my breasts with her fingers. Dizzy from the abrupt wakening I stopped her:

–This is not the way I do it.

–Hmm. Whatever.

She shook her shoulders, turned, with tattooed kiss on her ass grinning in the moonlight, and slammed the door. What a cocktail personality – I thought, and couldn`t sleep for hours. She was clearly using the vulnerabilities of others. And to say the least, she was disturbing. Most social constraints were absent when it came to her approach to people.

In the morning, when she finally woke up, I offered breakfast to Beata and she demanded a stronger coffee. After finishing all my croissants, she left the plates on the table and put her earphones on.

–No, I said. Listen. It looks like you are on a sexual escapade.

–What do you mean?

–I mean that you disconnect yourself from reality. We all absorb nasty impulses, even the victimized group…

–I am not a victim.

– You don`t need to be a predator either.

–What?

–I find your behavior abhorrent. Do you need any help with packing?

–No.

However, she did. I packed her stuff myself and carried it to the elevator. Then, I helped her to check into the Astor. She took it for granted and complained that her room didn`t have a big TV. As soon as I started working in my office, Beata called.

–I`m in a bar with Tony and Jill.

–Who are they?

–I don`t know yet. Wanna come?

–I can`t now.

–You don`t love me.

–You don`t show much love yourself.

–I need to speak with you.

–Fine. Call me in two hours and we`ll have a late lunch or an early dinner. Or do you prefer me to call?

–No. My cell phone doesn`t function properly. So long.

Beata didn`t call in two hours. She didn`t call in three hours. When four hours passed, I made plans with Georgia. As soon as I arranged this, Beata called. No apologies.

–I`m coming now.

–You`re not, because I`m busy again. You have to respect my time.

–I put down the receiver. In 30 minutes I heard a harsh knock on the door. I saw in the peephole that Beata was standing there with a bottle of alcohol. I responded through the door.

–Why are you here?

–I want to see you.

–Go back to the Astor and put yourself together. I`ll see you tomorrow.

Beata continued banging and kicking the door, yelling something I refused to listen to. Shaking all over my body, I went to take a shower.

A few messages were left on my answering machine. Beata sounded obsessed, with a lot of anger in her voice. I went out to meet Georgia. Beata was sitting in the lobby:

–Where are you going?

–I understand that you attitude is caused by hurt. The only way to manage it is to do good things – not to hurt others.

–Who the fuck do you think you are? I`m younger than you and have a life ahead of me!

–Buona fortuna! Have your life without me.

Beata kept cursing. I asked her to leave the lobby and told the guard not to let her in anymore.

And that`s the end of the story, which could have been different, if Beata would believe that buona fortuna is about a genuine consideration of others, about sharing pains and joys.