Atavus (29 page)

He arrived at his destination, emerging from a military style vehicle, flanked by men with arms. The person waiting in the distance had expected his arrival and in the stance of a soldier, although he was a long time curator. The man’s complexion was dark mahogany, chiseled with grooves to form cheekbones, and a prominent cleft. He glistened under the sun, a figurine of melting chocolate. He stood on the paved sidewalk in front of a modern building in a land in stark contrast to the images perpetuated of a non-existent primitive civilization. He waved at the golden skin visitor emerging from a car with burly guards. Each step the guest took toward the Eritrean resembled th
e
movements of a panther with cobalt eyes set in a state of complete alertness. He appeared at home in the hot environment, mostly natives were able to endure such heat and wear a suit without discomfort. The visitor however was accustomed to many climates, his body temperature seemed to acclimate to any weather, and thus there was not the running sweat visible on most foreigners’ skin.

The colorful clothes were swaths of rainbows on people as they zigzagged across the visitor's path; yet never once did the eyes waver from the curator's face. When he reached his host, they exchanged polite greetings, no hugs, no handshakes, but nods and clipped words.

"Selam kemey aleka."

"Hola, selam -tambien."

The Eritrean said. "You are habesha."

“If you say so," the foreigner scoffed, unaware of what the word 'habesha' meant. People loved assigning titles to classify people; he tired of the falsity, a birth name is enough.

"It is good that you have finally arrived cousin."

"I'm not your cousin, now let's cut the chit-chat; it's too hot out here."

The host merely smiled. "Ah, I would not have guessed. Please come inside cousin."

The curator then escorted the irritable visitor into the climate-controlled Royal Conservation Museum in the commercial district of Eritrea where heavily armed security stood in the building’s lobby with no-nonsense expressions similar to their guests. However, they did not frisk the trio of visitors as they passed over metal detectors concealed in tiles beneath their feet. The illumination on the figures' soles identified those packing; each of the foreigners had a light; the curator was exempt. The men walked on, unconcerned about the high tech system. The bodyguard's charge was a leader of dangerous men, which carried more weight in their minds than bloodlines of a deceased King and revered African Princess, named Semira Afizwusi.

They entered a private gallery where priceless artifacts were on display, some on walls, and others in clear cases on ornate pedestals.

The curator walked to the wall where a large oil painting hung. He glanced over when his guest stopped, shoved his hands in his pockets and gazed upon the artwork done by an Italian master. “She is beautiful, is she not my cousin?” The curator asked.

The cool blue eyes cut to the Eritrean. He grew weary of relatives emerging from baseboards like cucarachas. Last time one of them did, he laid a bunch of nasty eggs at the family's door. Then, there's his primo he knifed in the heart, and the cousin who boned his wife and then saved his life more times than he could count. The sensual mouth sneered at the thought of another damn cousin. "Call me Alfonzo, say cousin one more time, well-meaning or not and I’ll knock your ass to the floor, pendejo."

The curator grinned wider. "I see we will be great friends." He barreled out his chest. "Now, that you and I have established a wonderful relationship –let us talk of art."

"Talk."

In a conspiratorial tone he said, "There are special paintings that your father entrusted to my father that he was told cannot be shown to anyone but his son. He wanted his son to see the beauty of a royal woman who organized criminals to save her heirs."

Alfonzo had heard from Selange this very statement and he exhaled. Why couldn’t Giuseppe be part of these big reveals, just once, couldn’t that butthead get half the headaches since he shared in the wealth? "How do you know that's me, he has another son and he’s older than I am?"

The curator nodded. “But he does not wear the ring of a King, marked with the sign of the Queen Semira, or married to a descendant of Ethiopia, does he?”

Glossary

Italian Words/Phrases:

Look, I wear the ring of Giacanti- Guarda, io indosso l'anello di Giacanti.

Turncoat/informant- pentiti

One mistake and I will cut out your tongue! -Un errore e farò tagliare fuori la lingua!

Are you listening to my heart, love?
-
Stai ascoltando il mio cuore, amore?

Let’s eat!- Andiamo a mangiare
!

Yes, let’s eat. Later, I eat mama. -Sí, andiamo a mangiare. Più tardi, mangio mamma.

Are you okay?- Stai bene.

Damn bastards!- Maledetti bastardi!

aunt- la zia

boy- il ragazzo

brother- il fratello

brother–in–law- il cognato

cousin (female)- la cugina

cousin (male)-              il cugino

dannazione- damn

daughter- la figlia

daughter–in–law -la nuora

family- la famiglia

father-              il padre

father–in–law- il suocero

girl- la ragazza

grandchild- il nipote

granddaughter- la nipote

grandfather- il nonno

grandmother- la nonna

grandparents-               i nonni

grandson- il nipote

husband- il marito

mother- la madre

mother–in–law- la suocera

nephew- il nipote

niece- la nipote

parents- i genitori

relative- il parente

sister- la sorella

sister–in–law- la cognata

son- il figlio

son–in–law- il genero

stepfather- il patrigno

stepmother- la matrigna

step brother; half-brother- il fratellastro

step sister; half-sister- la sorellastra

uncle- lo zio

wife- la moglie

Spanish Words/Phrases:

Y tu tambien Mami eres los mas importante para mi, te amo con todo mi corazon.

And you too mom, you are very important to me, I love you with all my heart.

What about? - ¿Por qué?

Many years of marriage- muchos años de matrimonio.

Get up. I want to know how he fucked up!- Levántate. Quiero saber cómo lo jodido!

Yiddish Words/Phrases:

Bubbula- wife, darling

Tokhis oyfn tish: Put up or shut up

Ikh hob dir in drerd: Go to hell

Alter kaker: Old shit (Old fart)

Mamzer: Bastard

Schmuck: S.O.B.

Tsatskele: Bimbo

Tokhis leker: Ass-kisser

Shtup: Have sex. Screw. Boink.

Tokhis: Derriere

Zaftik: Stacked

Alivay: It should only happen

Farshtinkener: Rotten (awful person)

Svanta- penis

French Phrases:

You like this?- Vous aimez ce?

Yes, can I have more sweetheart?- Oui, puis-je avoir plus chérie?

Were you a good boy today? - Étiez-vous un bon garçon aujourd'hui?

New York City Police Department Radio Codes (Summarized)

Common Codes:

10-1    Call Your Command

10-2    Return To Your Command

10-3    Call Dispatcher By Telephone       

10-4    Acknowledgment

10-5    Repeat Message 

10-6    Standby

10-7    Verify Address

10-10   Possible Crime (prowler, suspicious person/vehicle, shots fired, etc.)

10-11   Alarm (specify type)

10-12   Police Officer/Security Holding Suspect

10-13   Assist Police Officer

10-14   License Plate Check - Occupied & Suspicious - Verify If Stolen

10-15   License Plate Check - Verify If Is Stolen - Occupied or Not

10-16   Vehicle is Reported Stolen

10-17   Vehicle is Not Reported Stolen

10-18   Warrant Check Shows An Active Warrant

10-19   Warrant Check Negative

Final Dispositions:

10-90 F1 Domestic Incident Report (no offense of domestic violence is alleged)

F2 Domestic Incident Report (unfounded report of domestic violence)

J1 Domestic Incident Report (no offense of child abuse is alleged)

J2 Domestic Incident Report (offense of reported child abuse is unfounded) or Unnecessary Alarm

U Unable to gain entrance

X Unfounded

Y Unnecessary

Z -Gone on arrival

About the Author

I’m a city person and enjoy the diversity of cultures, the beauty of languages and contrasts. Concrete, parks and boroughs connected by a walk, train or bus where serenity of a lake in Central Park sits amid skyscrapers.  I support adult literacy, anti-bullying and a host of other causes.

The arts and all that it encompasses are my passions. They’re a representation of the beauty of the imagination and freedom of expression. There is a never-ending inspiration from living.

A tree is a fiery twisting multitude of sharp fanged serpents; a bird is a –mystic messenger from Orpheus. Children are best at this and I suppose I have maintained a portion of that inner child. Play is fun; laughter is healing and love is fulfilment for a novelist, especially when it is the soul story, to which I inhabit.

I write on in celebration of living!

Other Novels by S.W. Frank

Dr. Nebojsa

Missing Person

Man Made: A Novella

Luzo: Reign of a Mafia Don

The Sisters of Cain and Abel

For updates on novels, contests or more from the author go to Facebook or Twitter: Author S.W. Frank.