Authors: Elsa Morante,Lily Tuck,William Weaver
Tags: #Literature & Fiction, #Contemporary, #Genre Fiction, #Historical, #Military, #War, #Literary, #Contemporary Fiction, #Historical Fiction, #Italian, #Literary Fiction
that surname.)
"Now you know my name. But I'm telling you : nobody else must know it. Don't tell anybody my name, or that you saw me here!"
Useppe guaranteed his secrecy with new and repeated shakes of his head, even more impassioned, if possible, than the earlier ones.
Then, with total trust and brotherhood, in a low voice, the above named Scim6 informed Useppe that he had escaped from the Reforma tory, where his relatives, and in particular his brother, wanted to keep him locked up. But he didn't feel like staying shut up in there. During an outing to the Janiculum with his whole troop, he and a couple of others had slipped away. The undertaking had been planned by him, with them, in every detail. First of all, they had taken advantage of the fact that the instructor on duty that day, Signor Patazzi, had an intestinal ailment that forced him to retire now and then, leaving surv momentarily to the group leader. With clever stratagems they had managed to distract this boy's attention, and vanish. And while his other two companions in the escape had stuck together (and this surely had been the fi thing to screw them, because, paired like that, they had been easy to fi ), he, with the true science of jailbreaks, had bidden them goodbye at the start, to go off on his own. A little later he had hastily removed the uniform jacket and cap; and for various hours he had hid in a garbage can full of leaves, dried grass, horse dung, and so on, emerging only under cover of darkness. In advance, he had cleverly supplied himself with some cards from the gift package chocolate bars ( these cards now had considerable trading value on the market), taking them with him, concealed in his shoes, along with his
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. . . .
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precious medal of the Giro d'Italia. And that same evening, in exchange for the cards, a character in Trastevere had given him these civilian pants he \\ now wearing. He had then tailored for himself this camoufl (it was the already-described khaki garment with colored spots ) the better to hide, living underground. And now, maybe those other two had let them selves be caught, but he was never going to be captured, that was sure, living or dead.
Scim6's narrative had been followed by Useppe (and also by Bella ) with the intensity of thrilling news, especially in the climaxes. Not only their ears, but their whole bodies were swept away by it. And as for Scim6 himself, he had accompanied his speech with such a gesticulation of legs, head, arms, and fi that at the end he had to be quiet and rest. But a little later, as if to seal an exclusive triple pact with those present, by revealing, after his past, also his future, he said, in dazzling boldness :
"I'm going to be a bicycle racer."
A great silence followed. With the sun already towards the west, that invisible rainbow, always open and curved over the tree tent, scattered all its lights like little weightless wings, shifting and humming, where among the hundred thousand colors a golden orange predominated, with violet and Nile green. And their buzz resembled a mixed resonance, as of count less voices and strains of music, which came from far away; but here, too, certain special voices predominated, and these were soft, as of crickets, water, and tiny girls.
Useppe, delighted, started laughing. He wanted to return Scim6's great confi es, revealing to him some personal secret, unique and ex traordinary; but he didn't know what to say to him, though he saw him already bent forward, impatiently. So, by whim, and without having thought about it, Useppe whispered into his ear, indicating with his hand the surrounding tent of trees :
"Here there's God."
Scim6 grimaced, as an experienced and skeptical man, though the grimace still did not herald (as one might have thought) a profession of atheism. He declared, instead, with some self-importance :
"God's in church."
At this point, considering it had grown late, he said he would have to leave soon: "By now, the four-o'clock show must of begun a while ago!" he considered, with the tone of a businessman who has great responsibiliti that can't be postponed. And he explained he had to be at the Ostiense Station to meet a friend of his from Garbatella (who had free tickets ), to go to the movies with him afterwards :
"I don't care much," he added, "about the picture, beca I've seen
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it twice already. But I want to get there at least in time for the end of the first show, because that's where you find the faggots, and they take me to eat a pizza afterwards."
Here were those Faggots again! Obviously, famous and munifi personages, of whom Useppe had no idea! Still, not even this time would he confess to Scim6 his own ignorance. He heaved only a faint sigh ( which nobody noticed ); also because, on top of everything else, he had never been to the movies in his life.
In rising from the ground, Scim6 displayed, with a certain careless ostentation, the white polo shirt he wore beneath his camoufl jerkin. It was very elegant ( unlike his shorts, which seemed to have come from a ragman's cart) : new, clean, and decorated on one side with the drawing of an anchor, in blue. It was, Scim6 said, Australian: and it turned out that this too had been given him by a FAGGOT! In fact, one-whether the same, or another, it wasn't clear-of these Faggots had also promised him a pair of summer shoes, tennis style, and maybe, in the future, also a wrist watch and a pillow! Useppe was definitively convinced that these mysteri ous personages mentioned by Scim6 must certainly be spectacular creatures, of a supreme magnifi And in his mind he pictured them as a cross between Santa Claus, the Seven Dwarfs, and the Kings on playing cards.
Scim6 said that now, before going into the city, he had to "go by his house" to take off his "camoufl jacket" (so he caJied it) which, in the city, he said, would be counterproductive. Here, having pronounced in full this very diffi word, he had to stop for a minute to catch his breath; but a moment later, looking around again with extreme secrecy, he went on to say that today it was too late, but tomorrow, if they happened by here, he would show them "his house" : a hut he had built himself, complete, where he retired and lived clandestinely, which was in a hidden spot in the vicinity.
At this speech, as when the medal had been mentioned before, Useppe's face fl with prompt redness, which this time didn't escape Scim6. He eyed it, puzzled and suspicious, until, in encountering those eloquent pupils, amid the general silence, he had a kind of illumination; and without further hesitati he burst forth in a terrible tone of de nunciation :
"Who ate my fusaie?l"
At this, Useppe was more upset than ever, since he knew nothing of the lupins incident. Nor was BeJia herself, for that matter, able to under stand the question. Among other things, in the human vocabulary known to her, the word
fusaie
was lacking : they were caiJed lupins. And her misdeed in the hut had left not the slightest recoJiection in her big sheep-
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dog's head. The only thing she understood was that Scim6, at present, for some obscure reason, was growing angry with Useppe; and then, in the urgent necessity of soothing him, fi with innocence, she fl herself on his neck, giving his whole face an amorous lick, plus a few painless nips at either ear.
And it happened that this gesture of peace was interpreted by Scim6 as a self-denunciation on Bella's part! So on his own, if through a mis understanding, he realized how things had actually gone. In the face of the shepherdess's confession he could only pardon her at once. Indeed, he promptly smiled at her, this time also revealing his teeth, which were very small, spaced, and already dark and in bad shape. And Useppe, in return, smiled with consolation (displaying, in turn, his own little baby teeth ). Then Scim6 decided to be bighearted:
"Hell, what's a few
fusaie?"
he said, with a lordly grimace, "and I had already fi on my own, some animal going by had eaten them . . . The important thing," he added, lowering his voice, "is that the Pirates didn't come in!!!" And he went on to explain that, on the opposite bank of the river, there existed a notorious band of pira tes, headed by a certain Agusto, who was over sixteen, and once had been a ri even of the super famous Hunchback of Quarticciolo! These Pirates had a boat at their disposal, and went roaming up and down the whole shore, taking things! and setting fi to huts! and killing animals! and attacking people! So far this year they hadn't been seen around those parts; but last year, in July and August, they had defi tely been there. And they had thrown a ca into the river with the people still inside! destroyed huts! beaten up a deaf mute! and made love with a calf!
After this, Scim6 took his leave. But on going off he said to Useppe and Bella that if they happened to come back tomorrow afternoon, they could look for him directly at his house, since they already knew the place. But nobody else was to know! He then urged them to be on time, because tomorrow he had to leave earlier; there was a new movie at the theater, and he wanted to see this picture from the beginning.
"Tomorrow," he announced, "when you come, I'll show you a place, near my house, where the cicadas make their nests."
The next day all three met, extremely punctual, at the rendezvous. And in addition, Bella and Useppe had another unexpected encounter along the way. Obviously, this was a season of encounters for them. They were going along the last stretch of Viale Ostiense, the Basilica already in sight, when a woman's fresh voice called after them : "Useppe! Useppe!" There, wait ing at the bus stop, was a girl with a little baby in her arms and a straw bag
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over her shoulder. "Useppe! Don't you recognize me?" she went on, smil ing sweetly. Bella was already sniffi her with some familiarity, but Useppe, for the moment, couldn't say who she was : rather, the small infant, though a stranger, had a face that seemed to recall somebody else . . . It was a little girl, still unweaned, clearly female because she wore earri Her cheeks were round and vermilion, her eyes very black, already bright and laughing. And her dark hair, moist and fi an inch or so in length, was all neatly smoothed down, except for a single lock, curled with great care, which lay across the top of her head.
"Don't you recognize me? Patrizia! You remember me?"
"Don't you remember any more? . . . eh? . . . when we went riding together on the motorcycle! . . . You remember!"
((
. . . ess . . .
"
"And this is Bella? . . . Isn't it? You're Bella, right? Hey, Bella, you knew me!? . . .
"
Patrizia seemed much fatter, and at the same time with a worn and suff look in her face. Now, she wore her black hair tied by a ribbon on top of her head, and hanging behind in a long swinging tail. Instead of all the various jewelry that used to tinkle on her, now she wore only a little bracelet of copper and other metals, which tinkled too, frequently, because it was made up of several strands that jangled together with her move ments. And every time, at that tinkle, the baby would wiggle her hands and feet in amusement. She was wearing a white shirt with a little lace border, and the rest of her person was wrapped in a printed cloth, with colored drawings from animated cartoons, allowing her arms and part of her legs to remain free. On her feet she wore white booties, knitted by hand, tied with a lively pink ribbon. Her tiny earrings, like buttons, were of gold.
Patrizia shook her head, observing Useppe, who peered up with a little smile. "I knew you right away, Useppe!" she said to him. "And this," she added, "is your niece!"
Useppe seemed puzzled. "Yes, she's your niece! You're her uncle!" Patrizia confi laughing with a tremulous face. And taking her little daughter's wrist and moving it, as if to wave, she began saying to her : "Ninuccia, say hello to Useppe! 'Vave to Useppe . . ." Suddenly, her laughter broke in a convulsive sobbing. She tried to dry her tears as best she could with the baby's little fi still suspended in its wave, putting it to her eyes.
"Ah, I still can't believe it . . . All these months have gone by, and it still doesn't seem real to me! I expected anything but that. That I didn't
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expect! That he would leave me all alone wi my big belly, and go off. I was expecting that. But not this other, not this!"
Then, again she smiled at Useppe, her face swollen from crying, and nodding her head, she said to him, in a voice a little maternal and a little infantile :
"Ah, Useppe, he really loved you, he did! I was even jealous, because he loved you more than me! He even hit me once, when I said something about you!"
". . . Our bus is coming," she observed hastily, drying her tears with a handkerchief fi from her bag with diffi ". . . eh, we'll be going
. . . so long, Useppe."
You could see, from behind, her thickened hips swaying because of her high heels, then her naked legs were visible as she climbed into the bus, with the assistance of the conductor, who had leaned down to lend her support out of respect for her burden of the baby. At that time of day, there were few passengers on the bus. She immediately found a seat by the open window, and from there she waved again a vague goodbye, which seemed bitter, and already distant. Useppe went on waving, opening and closing his fi slowly, while the bus resumed its route, and Bella, sitting on the sidewalk, followed its movement with a troubled panting of her nostrils and tongue. The last glimpse they had of those relatives of theirs was Patrizia's immense, shiny-black mane; and, below her bent face, the coy curl of Ninuccia, in the center of her smooth, dark little head.