I'm Not Scared (15 page)

He got up and stretched his back and made as if to leave. ‘Go to sleep. I've got to go back in there.'

‘Papa, will you tell me something?'

He threw the cigarette out of the window. ‘What?'

‘Why did you put him in the hole? I don't quite understand.'

He gripped the doorknob, I thought he wasn't going to answer me, then he said: ‘Didn't you want to go away from Acqua Traverse?'

‘Yes.'

‘Soon we'll go and live in the city.'

‘Where'll we go?'

‘To the North. Are you pleased?'

I nodded.

He came back over to me and looked me in the eyes. His
breath smelled of wine. ‘Listen to me carefully. If you go back there they'll kill him. They've sworn it. You mustn't go back there again if you don't want them to shoot him and if you want us to go and live in the city. And you must never talk about him. Do you understand?'

‘I understand.'

He kissed me on the head. ‘Now go to sleep and don't think about it. Do you love your father?'

‘Yes.'

‘Do you want to help me?'

‘Yes.'

‘Then forget all about it.'

‘All right.'

‘Go to sleep now.' He kissed Maria, who didn't even notice, and went out of the room shutting the door quietly.

E
verything was in disarray.

The table was covered with bottles, coffee cups and dirty plates. The flies were buzzing over the remnants of the food. The cigarettes were overflowing from the ashtray, the chairs and armchairs were all awry. There was a reek of smoke.

The door of my room was ajar. The old man was asleep fully dressed on my sister's bed. One arm hanging loose. His mouth open. Every now and then he brushed away a fly that crawled on his face. Papa had flopped down on my bed with his head against the wall. Mama was sleeping curled up on the sofa. She had covered herself with the white quilt. All you could see was her black hair, a bit of forehead and a bare foot.

The front door was open. A warm gentle draught rustled the newspaper on the chest of drawers.

The cock crowed.

I opened the fridge. I got out the milk, filled a glass and went out on the balcony. I sat down on the steps to look at the dawn.

It was bright orange, dirtied by a gelatinous, purplish mass that stretched like cotton across the horizon, but higher up the sky was clean and black and a few stars were still alight.

I finished my milk, put the glass on a step and went down into the street.

Skull's football was near the bench, I kicked it. It rolled under the old man's car.

Togo emerged from the shed. He whined and yawned simultaneously. He stretched, lengthening his body and dragging his back legs, and came towards me wagging his tail.

I kneeled down. ‘Togo, how are you?'

He took my hand in his mouth and pulled it. He didn't grip tightly but his teeth were sharp.

‘Where do you want to take me, eh? Where do you want to take me?' I followed him into the shed. The doves roosting on the iron rafters flew away.

In one corner, heaped on the ground, was his bed, an old grey blanket, full of holes.

‘Do you want to show me your house?'

Togo lay down on it and opened out like a devilled chicken.

I knew what he wanted. I scratched his stomach and he froze, in bliss. Only his tail moved right and left.

The blanket was identical to Filippo's.

I smelled it. It didn't stink like his.

It smelled of dog.

I was lying on my bed reading
Tex
.

I had stayed in my room all day. Like when I had a temperature and couldn't go to school. At one point Remo had dropped in to ask if I wanted a game of soccer, but I had said no, I wasn't feeling very well.

Mama had cleaned the house till everything was gleaming again, then she had gone round to see Barbara's mother. Papa and the old man had woken up and gone out.

My sister dashed into the room and jumped on her bed looking as pleased as Punch.

‘Guess what Barbara lent me?'

I lowered my comic. ‘I don't know.'

‘Guess, go on!'

‘I don't know.' I wasn't in the mood for games.

She pulled out Ken. Barbie's husband, that beanpole with the snooty expression on his face. ‘Now we can play. I'll take Paola and you take him. We'll undress them and put them in the fridge … Then they can cuddle each other, you see?'

‘I don't feel like it.'

She peered at me. ‘What's the matter?'

‘Nothing. Leave me alone, I'm reading.'

‘You're so boring!' She snorted and went out.

I went on reading. It was a new number, Remo had lent it to me. But I couldn't concentrate. I threw it on the floor.

I was thinking of Filippo.

What was I going to do now? I had promised him I would go and see him again, but I couldn't, I had sworn to papa that I wouldn't go.

If I went they would shoot him.

But why? I wouldn't set him free, I would just talk to him. I wouldn't be doing anything wrong.

Filippo was waiting for me. He was there, in the hole, and was wondering when I would come back, when I would bring him the meatballs.

‘I can't come,' I said out loud.

The last time I had gone to see him I had said to him: ‘You see? I've come.' And he had replied that he had known I would. Not because the little wash-bears had told him. ‘You promised.'

All I needed was five minutes. ‘Filippo, I can't come here again. If I come back they'll kill you. I'm sorry, it's not my fault.' And at least he would know what was happening. Whereas like this he would think I didn't want to see him again and I didn't keep my promises. But that wasn't true. This tormented me.

If I couldn't go myself, papa could tell him. ‘I'm sorry, Michele can't come, that's why he hasn't kept his promise. If he comes they'll kill you. He sends his regards.'

‘It's no good, I must forget him!' I said to the room. I picked
up the comic, went into the bathroom and started reading on the toilet, but I had to stop immediately.

Papa was calling me from the street.

What did he want from me now? I had been good, I hadn't left the house. I pulled up my trousers and went out onto the terrace.

‘Come here! Quick!' He beckoned me down. He was standing beside the truck. Mama, Maria, Skull and Barbara were there too.

‘What's up?'

Mama said: ‘Come down, there's a surprise.'

Filippo. Papa had freed Filippo. And he had brought him to me.

My heart stopped beating. I rushed down the stairs. ‘Where is it?'

‘Wait there.' Papa got onto the truck and brought out the surprise.

‘Well?' papa asked me.

Mama repeated: ‘Well?'

It was a red bike, with handlebars like a bull's horns. A small front wheel. Three gears. Studded tyres. A saddle long enough for two people to ride on.

Mama asked again: ‘What's the matter? Don't you like it?'

I nodded.

I had seen an almost identical one a few months ago, in the bicycle shop in Lucignano. But that one wasn't so nice, it didn't have a silvered tail light and its front wheel wasn't small. I had gone in to look at it and the shop assistant, a tall man, with a moustache and a grey apron, had said: ‘Lovely, isn't it?'

‘Yes, it is.'

‘Last one I've got. It's a bargain. Why don't you get your parents to buy it for you?

‘I'd like to.'

‘So what's the problem?'

‘I've already got one.'

‘That thing?' The shop assistant's lip had curled as he pointed at the Crock leaning against the lamp post.

I justified myself: ‘It used to be papa's.'

‘It's time you changed it. Tell your parents. You'd look great on a beauty like this.'

I had gone away. I hadn't even bothered to asked him how much it cost.

This one was much nicer.

On the top of the crossbar were the English words Red Dragon, in gold letters.

‘What does Red Dragon mean?' I asked papa.

He shrugged and said: ‘Your mother knows.'

Mama covered her mouth and giggled: ‘Idiot! Since when did I know any English?'

Papa looked at me. ‘Well, what are you waiting for? Aren't you going to try it out?'

‘Now?'

‘When else, tomorrow?'

I felt embarrassed about trying it out in front of everyone. ‘Can I take it indoors?'

Skull got on it. ‘If you don't try it out, I will.'

Mama cuffed him round the ear. ‘Get off that bicycle this minute! It's Michele's.'

‘You really want to take it upstairs?' papa asked me.

‘Yes.'

‘Can you carry it?'

‘Yes.'

‘All right, but just for today …'

Mama said: ‘Are you crazy, Pino? A bicycle in the house? It'll leave tyremarks.'

‘He'll be careful.'

My sister took off her glasses, threw them on the ground and burst into tears.

‘Maria, pick up those glasses at once,' papa barked.

She crossed her arms. ‘No! I won't, it's not fair. All for Michele and nothing for me!'

‘You wait your turn.' Papa took out of the truck a package wrapped in blue paper and tied up with a bow. ‘This is for you.'

Maria put her glasses back on. She tried to undo the knot but couldn't, so she tore at it with her teeth.

‘Wait! It's nice paper, we'll keep it.' Mama undid the bow and took off the paper.

Inside was a Barbie with a crown on her head and a tight-fitting white satin dress and bare arms.

Maria nearly fainted. ‘The dancer Barbie …!' She flopped against me. ‘She's beautiful.'

Papa closed the tarpaulin of the truck. ‘That's it. No more presents for the next ten years.'

Maria and I went up the front steps. She with her dancer Barbie in her hand, I with the bicycle on my back.

‘Isn't she beautiful?' said Maria looking at the doll.

‘Yes she is. What are you going to call her?'

‘Barbara.'

‘Why Barbara?'

‘Because Barbara said that when she grows up she'll be like Barbie. And Barbie's English for Barbara.'

‘And what are you going to do with Poor Poppet, throw her away?'

‘No. She can be the maid.' Then she looked at me and asked: ‘Didn't you like your present?'

‘Yes. But I thought it would be something else.'

That night I slept with the old man.

I had just got into bed and was finishing
Tex
when he came into the bedroom. He looked as if another twenty years had been dumped on him. His face was so gaunt it had shrunk to a skeleton.

‘You asleep?' he yawned.

I closed the comic and turned towards the wall. ‘No.'

‘Ahhh! I'm shattered.' He switched on the bedside lamp and started getting undressed. ‘What with the journey there and the journey back, God knows how many kilometres I've done. My back's killing me. I need some sleep.' He held his trousers up in the air, inspected them and made a wry face. ‘I'm going to have to get some new clothes.' He took off his half-boots and socks and put them on the window sill.

His feet smelled.

He rummaged in his suitcase, got out the bottle of Stock 84 and took a swig from it. He grimaced and wiped his mouth with his hand. ‘Ugh, what muck.' He picked up the folder, opened it, looked at the pack of photographs and asked me: ‘Do you want to see my son?' He passed me a photo.

It was the one I had seen the morning I had gone through his things. Francesco dressed as a mechanic.

‘Handsome lad, isn't he?'

‘Yes, he is.'

‘Here he was still well, later he lost weight.'

A brown moth came in through the window and started knocking against the lampshade. It made a dull thud every time it hit the incandescent glass.

The old man picked up a newspaper and squashed it against the wall. ‘Fucking moths.' He passed me another photo. ‘My home.'

It was a low cottage with red windows. Behind the thatched roof you could see the tops of four palm trees. Sitting in the doorway was a black girl in a yellow bikini. She had long hair and was holding a joint of ham in her hands, like a trophy. Next to the house there was a small square garage and in front of it a huge white car with no roof and black windows.

‘What kind of car's that?' I asked.

‘A Cadillac. I bought it second-hand. It's in perfect condition. All I had to do was change the tyres.' He took off his shirt. ‘It was a bargain.'

‘And who's that black girl?'

He lay down on the bed. ‘My wife.'

‘You've got a black wife?'

‘Yes. I left my old one. This one's twenty-three years old. Little doll. Sonia, her name is. And if you think that's ham, you're wrong, it's speck. Genuine Venetian. I brought it to her all the way from Italy. You can't get it in Brazil, it's a delicacy. It was a real hassle carrying it. They even stopped me at customs. Wanted to cut it open, thought there were drugs inside … Ah well, I'm going to put out the light, I'm tired.'

Darkness fell in the room. I could hear him breathing and making funny noises with his mouth.

After a while he said: ‘You can't imagine what it's like over there. Everything's dirt cheap. Everybody serving you. You don't do shit all day. Beats this fucking country any day. I've finished with this country.'

I asked him: ‘Where
is
Brazil?'

‘Far away. Too far. Good night and sweet dreams.'

‘Good night.'

A
nd everything stopped.

A fairy had put Acqua Traverse to sleep. The days followed one another, scorching, identical and endless.

The grown-ups didn't even go out in the evenings. Before, after dinner, they had put out the tables and played cards. Now they stayed indoors. Felice wasn't around any more. Papa stayed in bed all day and only talked to the old man. Mama cooked. Salvatore had shut himself up at home.

I rode my new bike. Everyone wanted a go on it. Skull could get right through Acqua Traverse on one wheel. I couldn't even get two metres.

I often went out on my own. I cycled along the dried-up stream, I rode down dusty little tracks between the fields that took me far away, where there was nothing but fallen posts and rusty barbed wire. Away in the distance the red combine harvesters shimmered in the waves of heat that rose from the fields.

It was as if God had given the whole world a haircut. Sometimes the trucks with the sacks of wheat passed through Acqua Traverse leaving trails of black smoke behind them.

When I was in the street I felt as if everyone was watching what I was doing. I thought I glimpsed, behind the windows, Barbara's mother spying on me, Skull pointing at me and whispering to Remo, Barbara smiling a strange smile at me. But even when I was alone, sitting on a branch of the carob or
on my bike, that feeling didn't leave me. Even when I forced my way through the remains of that sea of wheat ears soon to be packed into bales and I had nothing but sky around me, I felt as if a thousand eyes were watching me.

I won't go there, don't worry, everybody. I've sworn I won't.

But the hill was there, and it was waiting for me.

I started to ride along the road that led to Melichetti's farm. And every day, without realizing it, I went a bit further.

Filippo had forgotten about me. I felt it.

I tried to call him with my thoughts.

Filippo? Filippo, can you hear me?

I can't come. I can't.

He wasn't thinking about me.

Maybe he was dead. Maybe he wasn't there any more.

One afternoon, after lunch, I lay down on my bed to read. The light pressed against the shutters and filtered into the boiling room. I had the crickets in my ears. I fell asleep with the
Tiramolla
comic in my hand.

I dreamed that it was night but I could still see. The hills were shifting in the dark. They moved slowly like tortoises under a carpet. Then all together they opened their eyes, red holes that gaped in the wheat, and they rose up, sure that no one could see them, and became earthy, wheat-covered giants that undulated across the fields and rolled over me and buried me.

I woke up bathed in sweat. I went to the fridge to get some water. I could see the giants.

I went out and got the Crock.

I was at the end of the path that led to the abandoned house.

The hill was there. Hazy, veiled by the heat. I thought I could see two black eyes in the wheat, just below the summit, but they were only patches of light, folds in the ground. The sun had
started to sink and weaken. The hill's shadow slowly covered the plain.

I could go up.

But papa's voice held me back. ‘Listen to me carefully. If you go back there they'll kill him. They've sworn it.'

Who? Who had sworn it? Who would kill him?

The old man? No. Not him. He wasn't strong enough.

Them, the earth giants. The lords of the hill. Now they were lying in the fields and were invisible, but at night they woke up and crossed the countryside. If I now went to see Filippo, even though it was daytime, they would rise up like waves of the ocean and reach there and dump their earth in the hole and bury him.

Turn back, Michele. Turn back, my sister's shrill little voice told me.

I veered my bike round and launched myself into the wheat, among the holes, pedalling like a madman and hoping I'd ride over the backbone of one of those damned monsters.

I was hiding under a rock in the dried-up stream.

I was sweating. The flies wouldn't leave me alone.

Skull had flushed them all out. I was the only one left. Now it was getting difficult. I would have to dash out, without stopping, cut across the field of stubble, reach the carob and shout: ‘Den free everybody!'

But Skull was there, near the tree, pointing like a hound, and when he saw me running he would rush out himself and in a few strides he would catch me.

I'd have to run and hope for the best. If I made it, fine, if I didn't, too bad.

I was just about to set off, when a black shadow swooped down on me.

Skull!

It was Salvatore. ‘Move over, or he'll see me. He's close by.'

I made room for him and he got under the rock too.

Without wanting to, I blurted out: ‘What about the others?'

‘He's caught them all. Only you and me are left.'

It was the first time we had spoken to each other since that day with Felice.

Skull had asked me why I had quarrelled with him.

‘We haven't quarrelled. It's just that I don't like Salvatore,' I had replied.

Skull had put his arm round my shoulders. ‘Good for you. He's a shit.'

Salvatore dried the sweat from his forehead.

‘Who's going to make den?'

‘You go.'

‘Why?'

‘Because you're faster.'

‘I can run faster over a long distance, but you're quicker to the carob.'

I said nothing.

‘I've got an idea,' he went on. ‘Let's go out together, both of us. When Skull comes I'll get in his way and you run to the carob. That way we'll beat him. What do you say?'

‘It's a good idea. Except that I'll make den and you'll lose.'

‘It doesn't matter. It's the only way to fuck that pea-brain.'

I smiled.

He looked at me and stretched out his hand.

‘Peace?'

‘All right.' I grasped it.

‘Did you know Signora Destani isn't taking our class any more? A new teacher's coming this year.'

‘Who told you?'

‘My aunt talked to the head. She says she's beautiful. And maybe she doesn't whack like Destani.'

I tore up a tuft of grass. ‘It makes no difference to me anyway.'

‘Why not?'

‘Because we're leaving Acqua Traverse.'

Salvatore looked at me in surprise. ‘Where are you going?'

‘To the North.'

‘Whereabouts?'

I said the first name that came into my head: ‘Pavia.'

‘Where's Pavia?'

I shrugged. ‘I don't know. But we're going to live in a palazzo, on the top floor. And papa's going to buy a 131 Mirafiori. And I'm going to go to school there.'

Salvatore picked up a stone and tossed it from one hand to the other. ‘And you'll never come back again?'

‘No.'

‘And you won't see the schoolmistress?'

I looked at the ground. ‘No.'

He whispered: ‘I'm sorry.' He looked at me. ‘Ready?'

‘Ready.'

‘Let's go, then. And don't stop. On the count of three.'

‘One, two, three,' and we sprinted off.

‘There they are! There they are!' Remo shouted, from his perch in the carob.

But there was nothing Skull could do, we were too quick. We banged into the carob together and shrieked: ‘Den free everybody!'