CRAVING U (The Rook Café) (36 page)

“I’m Matteo, nice
to meet you.”  They finally shook hands.  “Do you speak I-tal-i-an?”  He spoke
slowly, emphasizing every syllable.

“Certo que sim.” 
He turned on his heels.  “Bet-ter than you, it se-ems.”  Ninho, in fact, spoke
Italian perfectly, unlike Pão, who still had problems with pronunciation and
grammar.

“How
embarrassing,” Matteo said, eating Ninho’s dust, and reddening under Pão’s
boisterous laughter after watching the scene.  “Nice guy, your friend!”

“I told you.” 
The defender slapped Matteo on the back.  “That’s how he is: love him or leave
him.”

In fact, the
initial sense of dislike faded away rapidly, and Ninho quickly became a friend,
one of the players who Matteo felt closest to, after Pão.  He liked Ninho’s way
of having fun, joking around, and the fact that he was a pathological
ball-buster.  But more than anything, he was incredibly stimulating on the
field of play.  Training with him was a constant challenge to be your best, to
surpass your own limitations.

Almost a month
had passed since the beginning of Matteo’s sojourn in Milan when one Tuesday,
the entire
San Carlo
management team showed up at practice to get a bird’s
eye view of everyone’s progress.

“The kid is good,
but he’s got at least a year, maybe two before he’ll be ready.”  From the
sidelines, the team manager was giving his opinion of Matteo, who had become
one of the most-debated players of the try-outs.  “And so if he’s not blowing
us away with his skills, I think we should send him home rather than try to
find a place for him to fit in.  We can make space for younger players on the
team that way.”

“Let’s not be too hasty,” said Sforza, who
was acting as the middleman between the two schools of thought.  “What do you
think Carlo?  Do you still think he can make it as a pro?”

“I do.”  Braidi had no doubts on the
subject, and his instincts, for which he was renowned throughout the world of
professional under-21 soccer, told him to believe in this kid.  “He still has
everything to learn, considering where he was playing before, but he’s a
natural.  A potential superstar.  He’s got his head screwed on right and has
character, two things that we shouldn’t underestimate.”

Sforza nodded, respectful of Braidi’s
intuition when it came to young players.  “What do you all think about Gama de
Moraes?”  They turned their eyes to Ninho, who had scored two goals in the last
fifteen minute game-simulation, plus bounced a couple of balls off the crossbar
on headers that had been perfectly passed to him by Matteo from the left wing.

“We’re still waiting for the medical tests
for the contract to go through,” the club’s South American scout said, who
paused to remind everyone of the promising Brazilian attacker’s past with the
national team.  “For the last Olympics, he was called up by the national coach
of the
Seleção
, where he made a good impression, even though he spent
much of the tournament on the bench as a backup.”

“Naturally,” the
athletic director commented.  “He’s still immature, and he has little
experience outside of Brazil.  But if it weren’t for the FIFA regulations about
signing minors, we wouldn’t have even waited this long to sign him.  But he
didn’t turn 18 until November.”  They were all enamored with the young talent
from Rio.

The assistant
coach stopped play to call the team to a huddle and explain the rest of the day’s
schedule to them.  “We’re going to start with mostly physical workouts – pushups,
crunches, squats, and low hurdles – and then do a few rounds of uphill sprints
and running at different paces, and then we’ll finish up in the gym with a
warming-down session.”  In the new
Visconti
structure, the athletes had
access to machines for muscle-building, cardio, rehab, and personalized
programs for balancing their workout loads.

During the day,
Matteo was totally absorbed by practice, his new friends, his schoolwork, his
tutors, and by the hustle and bustle of Milan, so much so that he didn’t have
time to think about anything else.  It was only in the evenings, when Milan
grew dark, that homesickness and regret took over, stifling him with
bittersweet memories.  He had just finished eating dinner and was playing FIFA
with his teammates in Ninho’s room when he heard his cellphone ring.  “Hello? 
Hey, man.”  He handed the joypad to Pão and moved away from the group so as not
to have their excited voices interrupt his conversation.  “How are things
there?”

“Well
....
”  After
twenty-three days of tyranny and disasters brought on by thoughtlessly cruel
kids, followed by a pathetic and miserably unsuccessful attempt to fix things,
Dario had finally decided to call his friend.  “Not so hot.”  He still didn’t
know if he should really tell him about what was going on at Pellico High, or
if he should just keep his mouth shut.  He was afraid of Matteo’s reaction.

“What do you
mean?”  The tone of his voice revealed Matteo’s instant worry, which was
accentuated by his distance from events.  “What’s going on?”

“I skipped
school.”  Dario didn’t have the guts to tell him the whole story about sexgate,
and so he changed subjects quickly onto something less painful.  “Only the
second time in sixteen years, nursery school included, that I take an
unauthorized vacation, and
....
”

“And so?  You’re
hardly the first.”  Matteo was suddenly indifferent to it all, relieved to know
that Marika had nothing to do with anything.  “And you won’t be the last.”

“I know, but it
turned into a real disaster,” he whimpered.

“A disaster?!” 
He already knew what was coming next, and it put him in a lighthearted frame of
mind.  “You didn’t get caught, did you?”

The silence on
the other end of the line spoke volumes.

“I don’t believe
it
!”  Matteo burst into laughter, making all of the
other players turn away from the Xbox to look at him
.  “Who nabbed you?”

“My parents,”
Dario admitted, still depressed about it.  “And there’s nothing to laugh about.”

“Yeah, right!” 
He couldn’t stop.  “You’re the absolute worst!”

“Wait, there’s
more.”

“No, please, I
can’t take any more.”  He had to wipe his eyes.

“They caught me
because my mother, who must be going through menopause or something,
accidentally
– as she puts it – read all of the texts that were in my phone.  All the way
back to December.”

“She did what?  You’re kidding me.”  His
laughter grew louder still.  “Hold on while I put you on speakerphone.”

“Ha, ha, ha.  Go ahead and laugh.”  Dario
acted hurt.  “You want to know the exact words she used?”  He did his best to
imitate his mother’s ear-piercing tones.  “It was like the world was falling to
pieces around me.”

“Yeah, your world.  It’s no business of
hers,” Matteo sympathized.

“And she read, among the other things, the
message which not only confirmed that I had skipped school, but the reason why
as well: to drive up into the hills with Carlotta for a bit of action.”  He
paused.  “I had even borrowed their SUV for the day.”

“You dumbass!” Matteo ribbed him.  “How’d
she take it?”

“How do you think?  She started screaming
like a madwoman, and then called my dad.”  He did her voice again.  “Umberto,
see what your son is doing when he should be at school?  And in our car, no
less!”  He went back to his own voice.  “At that point, my father, who was
beaming because he thought his goody-two-shoes son had finally shown some
balls, made his own proud comment.”  This time, Dario lowered his voice to play
his father: “Did you really get some in our car?”

Matteo started to
get a stitch in his side from all of his laughing.

“But the best
part is that I wasn’t even going anywhere with Carlotta, unfortunately!” he
blurted out, frustrated.  “It was just a stupid joke with a guy I know from
school.  Only my technologically inept mother wasn’t able to figure out who the
message was actually from.”

“Stop it, Dario,
don’t tell me any more, I can’t take it.  My stomach hurts.”  After a day of
workouts in the gym, he was already pretty tender in that area, and this story
wasn’t helping any.

“When I think
about everything she read it makes me feel like puking.”  He shivered.  “She
even read everything I wrote to Carlotta.  What a mess.”

“Come on, she
probably didn’t understand a word of it, what with all of the abbreviations and
acronyms.  Speaking of which... how’re things with Carlotta?”

“All smoke, no
fire,” he pouted.  “I mean, everything’s cool on the romantic plane,
but....
”

Matteo
interrupted him sarcastically.  “Carlotta?  Romantic?  Since when?”

“Don’t get hung
up on the details, man, this is serious.  Let’s just say that on the physical
plane... nada.  She’s always got some excuse or another.  It’s her time of the
month, she feels fat, she’s busy
....
”  Dario paused, waiting for a snippy
comment that didn’t arrive.  “Hello?”  He knocked at the microphone.  “Did you
hear what I said?  Doesn’t that suck?”

“Yeah, yeah,”
Matteo replied, only half listening.  His mind had gotten off track after the
word,
romantic
, which led him down a trail of memories.  “And Marika?” 
How lovely her name sounded on his lips.  “How’s she doing?  I haven’t spoken
to her since that Friday.”  And how sad those words sounded, like a train
whistle halfway between home and Milan.  “She probably doesn’t even want to
know anything about me.  I was such an idiot!  I said too much, or maybe not
enough... I was so confused by being so close to her.”

“I guess.”  Dario
sounded skeptical. 
“Carlotta gave me a
different version.”

“What do you mean?”

“Marika told her
that you were brash and arrogant with her.”  He was happy to get the girls’
words off his chest.  “That’s a quote.”

“Brash and
arrogant?”  He was confused.  “Then she didn’t understand a word of what I
said.”

“I’m sure you’ll
clear it up with her some day.”

“I tried sending
her a message, but she didn’t write back.”  He breathed out noisily.  “She must
be really pissed with me.”

“I don’t think
so.  There could be another explanation.  You know, she had to change her
number.”  He scrolled through his address book to find the new one for Matteo.

“Oh yeah?  Why?”

“Why?”  He
thought up a plausible lie.  “Someone cloned it.”

“Bullshit!” 
Matteo didn’t buy it for a second.  “You’re such a lousy liar.”

“Yeah, well.” 
Dario tried to come up with something else quick.

“So what’s the
real story?” Matteo urged.

“Hold on a
second!  I can’t think straight under pressure.”  He swallowed down his
nervousness.  “Matteo... something big happened... the day you left for Milan. 
That’s one of the reasons I’m calling you.”

“How big?”  His
heart had started pumping rapidly.  “Is she OK?”

“Ever since you
left, Lucrezia
....
”

“Lucrezia?!”  He
felt his stomach turn.  “I don’t give a crap about Lucrezia.”  He leaned
against the wall on the far end of the room.  “What else?”  He was getting
worked up, and his heart felt like it was going to burst from his chest.  “Is
Marika OK?”

“Physically,
yeah.  Though in truth, she was almost involved in a brawl yesterday.”

“
Physically,
yeah
?” he repeated, lost.  “What the fuck are you talking about?  What do
you mean, a brawl?  What for?  Who with?”  He opened the French doors and went
out onto the balcony for some fresh air.  “I’ve been gone for a month, what
were you waiting for to call me?”

“There was no
good reason to call you,” Dario blurted out, feeling Carlotta’s omnipresent
eyes on his back.  “And I didn’t think it was even fair to bother you... you’ve
got other things on your mind right now, and rightfully so.”

“
Bother me
?”  He was shocked.  “I
don’t remember asking you to protect
me
.  I remember asking you to
protect
her
.”  And how could Marika ever be a bother to him?

His teammates had noticed Matteo’s strange
behavior, and had poked their heads out the door.  “Everything OK?”  
Pão came closer to him, the joypad firmly
in his grip so as not to lose his turn.

“Oh... yeah.” 
Matteo breathed in deeply, trying to regain his peace of mind and think of a
decent alibi.  “This moron just traded Balotelli to me for a total loser in our
fantasy soccer league.”  It was worth a shot.  “Can you believe it?”  They
shouldn’t have... the trading deadline was already well in the past.

“I’d never trade
Super
Mario
,” Dario could be heard saying from the other end.  “I’m not that big
of a moron.”

“Damn right you
are.”  He leaned against the railing, watching the people come and go from the
subway station below.  “I don’t know how to say it in any other way.  Marika is
important to me.  I really care about her.”