Leo tried to keep his wits about him. He breathed a sigh, closed his eyes, the concentrated expression of those who are reviewing an action to be taken.
His friends always counted on him in the most at-risk situations. But in this case, you had to act quickly because one second too many could make a difference. Guido could have been hurt, or worse. Another sigh, he opened the door and jumped out of the car. The slavs didn't have particularly cruel air, but one of them, the shorter, more aggressive one, still pointed a hunting knife at the centre of his chest, as if to keep him at a distance and not actually hit him.
Leo kicked him in the face. The slav went down like an empty sack on the hood of the Panda.
The second slav came at Leo with his bare hands trying to land him with a fist, but the boy nimbly dodged the blow. Another kick straight to the jaw, and the blood spurted
darkening the Slav's face. The man, stunned, moaned, which sounded like a surrender, and fell on the floor.
Not far away, Fatmir continued to threaten Guido. The boy felt the cold tip of the blade beneath his carotid artery.
"Okay, now calm down. Just take it and go." Guido raised his left hand and waved the diary in the air, hoping that the Albanian would catch him without hurting him.
Fatmir's wife screamed on the pavement, begging her husband to leave the boy alone. Filippa had never stopped insulting the man, but never found the courage to approach him.
The Albanian grabbed the diary with a cruel grimace, as if quivering to stab Guido. He was reluctant, but had decided not to rage against him.
The man took the blade from Guido's neck and planted the palm of his hand between his shoulder blades to drive him away. The albanian ran to his car, an old red Opel with no rims, full of dents and rusty crawls on the sides. He opened the door and threw the newspaper into the passenger seat. He was about to enter the cockpit when Leo stood in front of him.
The gloomy gaze of the albanian made him realize that he was looking at a dangerous individual who was willing to do anything. The man, who had grown up in the dusty streets of Tirana's slums, had probably known nothing but poverty and violence.
The two remained motionless for a long time, tense and nervous as the snake and mongoose that they studied each other waiting for the right moment to attack.
Fatmir was the first to move. He sprang forward, aiming straight at the boy's chest.
Leo raised his left arm to parry the blow. The sharp blade sliced through the sleeve of his leather jacket. It took Leo a while to figure out if he was injured, but luckily, there was no trace of blood.
Fatmir turned on the boy again, and Leo shifted all his body weight to the right, like a matador avoiding a raging bull. The Albanian crossed the empty space where Leo stood a moment earlier, marvelling at the agility with which the boy had not only moved, but had practically disappeared in front of him.
Leo grabbed his arm with a dagger. The Albanian tried to struggle, but Leo twisted his wrist. A scream of pain, and the knife fell on the asphalt and fell under the wheels of the Opel.
Leo then struck Fatmir's jaw with a right. The dazed Albanian was forced to stick to his car mirror to avoid falling. Leo was ready to strike the umpteenth yop chagi when Manuel yelled, "Freeze, Leo. That's enough!"
It had been two minutes since the attack had begun, but to Guido, Filippa, and Manuel, it had felt like an eternity.
The two slavs, as soon as they recovered, fled a closed side street between the buildings in the neighbourhood, leaving Fatmir to moan on the ground like a wounded jackal.
His wife came to his rescue, but without momentum, she seemed almost grateful to Leo for beating him up.
It took Fatmir a minute to stand up. He lay down in the car supported by his wife, without fully recovering. The civil defence volunteer took Daisy's diary from the seat and returned it to Guido, asking for forgiveness. The woman then started the car and disappeared down the street.
"Shit, what a fucking mess” said Manuel, who was still shaking with fear.
"By the way, Leo, you've been great" he added, passing his hand across his beaded brow in sweat.
"I don't take that as a compliment” said Leo dark in the face.
"Taekwondo is a noble martial art. This was only pure violence." Guido proposed calling the police, but his friends disagreed. They knew that to press charges was to take risks
for the future. The tiny criminal community in Castelmuso was patient, long-remembered, and very vindictive.
"Okay, guys. I'm not staying here a minute longer. I'll see you in the editorial office” Filippa added, taking his helmet out of the top of his scooter.
The boys got into their cars, determined to disappear as soon as possible.
Guido's hands were still shaking. The bunch of keys jingled between his nerves, and it took him a few seconds before he could start the car. Before he left, he threw a glance through the window of the bar.
Inside the bar, everything seemed quiet. Guido shook his head.
He found it almost admirable the way the customers pretended nothing had happened.
12
Chicco, the Magnoli's ash-coloured cat, had gained a lot of weight in recent times, even if it was certainly not eating more than before. He was lying on the driveway with a soft belly in the air, four-legged with swords, ignoring the car that was passing by. Adriano chased him away so he wouldn't get under the worn-out wheels of the old Honda Civic.
"Hello, Adriano. I had seen the cat” Guido exclaimed as he leaned out of the window.
"For me you could have put him under" Adriano replied with a shrug of his back.
Guido grabbed the diary and got out of the car, staying on his own for a while. With Adriano, he never knew what to say or what not to say.
Daisy's brother proved to be quite communicative for once, although it was clear that he didn't like Guido very much.
"I'm sorry about last night." Adriano apologized in a low voice.
Guido nodded and raised his hand as if to say that he now considered the matter water under the bridge. They had a brief conversation that oscillated around futile topics, as if
they wanted to avoid the core of an issue that neither of us would want to address. Adriano, who seemed more lucid than usual, returned to justify himself.
"When the cure doesn't work" he said, "I don't know what I'm saying anymore, and I don't remember almost anything I do. And I put people in trouble. Like it happened with you. I'm better now, though."
"Yes, I can see that. And I'm very pleased" said Guido in a sincere, but rather lukewarm tone. He wouldn't admit it, but deep down, he was angry with him. He thought of the punches he'd thrown at his car, and the associated damage to the bodywork, which he couldn't afford to fix.
Not far away, Chicco had curled up under a Corvette with his face covered in gnats.
"Come in. Daisy is waiting for you" Adriano exclaimed as he opened the entrance door in a slow, unnatural motion.
Guido entered the house. He noticed that all the furnishings were now refined and tasteful. The table in the middle of the room seemed to be very expensive, a design object made entirely of crystal, but in his opinion, not very functional. He thought it was beautiful to look at, but it was hard to imagine it with a tablecloth, plates, crockery. Even the chairs were cast in a single piece of crystal, and then, again, he noticed a cabinet and a chest of drawers, precious antique pieces, perhaps belonging to a late Venetian.
He was reminded of his former living room, where everything was more in keeping with the old status of the Magnoli family. Now Daisy, as he understood it, was becoming a money-maker, and it was easy to see that he had paid for the new furniture out of his own pocket.
She turned the corner of the living room. Daisy was there, sitting on a huge leather sofa in front of the fireplace.
Apart from visiting the hospital, he hadn't seen Daisy in at least two years. They had exchanged messages in some occasions, but it was mostly about university textbooks,
<
br /> while Facebook raids were more frequent, where they could comment on topics of common interest, but nothing more.
Now, Daisy was in front of him, and Guido noticed how much she had changed. She was no longer the little girl she was in high school. She'd been like reset by a new beauty. A lighter smile brushed her lips, her face brighter, her gestures less nervous, her posture softer, her voice calmer, crackling with a compliment or a joke. Nothing about her was out of place. Success had turned her into a sophisticated creature. Guido had before him the perfect completion of the Daisy of yesteryear.
She, in turn, stared at him as she bathed her eyes in warm light. The shy classmate of yesteryear was now an adult, grown and matured in the space of a few years. They looked at each other, enchanted, telling each other their last years without speaking. And there was a whole lifetime to sum up: Congratulations on the last record/ I find you changed/ What did you do to the curls? / You read my articles? / Remember that time.../ Don't make me laugh, c’mon/ How angry you got that day.../ What assholes you were in class.
I'd like to tell you.../ I'd like to tell you that I still love you, Daisy...
Beside Daisy, the record company Rinaldo Duranti observed the warm and dark colour of the brandy that swung inside the glass.
Adriano walked up the stairs to the upper floor, in silence, with the soul of a stranger in his own home.
"Ah, boy. We've been waiting for you” Duranti exclaimed cordially, inviting Guido to come closer.
"Good morning” formalized Guido, who stiffened like a little soldier in front of a brigadier general.
"Sorry if I disturb you. I, uh... I have this” he said, showing the cantilevered butterfly page on the cover.
Daisy got up and screamed with joy. She hugged and kissed Guido, leaving a shade of lipstick on his cheeks. She took the diary and held it to herself as you would with a puppy when you want to feel its warmth, smell and affection. She barely exchanged a word with Guido because she wanted to introduce him to Rinaldo first. Anyway, they were going to talk at length later.
"Excuse me, it's true, we haven't introduced ourselves yet. I am Guido Gobbi and..."
"I know who you are. I know you. I read you in there” said Rinaldo pointing his finger at Daisy's diary.
Duranti pulled out a linen handkerchief from her double-breasted pocket. He bent down to polish his lacquered shoes. He cleaned the edges of the gaiters with painstaking finesse. He looked at the wrist watch, a steel Rolex tightened over a cuff adorned with sparkling gold cufflinks.
"Um... it's getting late. I'm going to Dancing Sport. I've got some things to work out with the owner" he said, but he said that the idea of leaving was just an excuse.
"Remember to add a desk for the Union's editorial staff." said Daisy.
"We've already got a press office, baby!" the record company said, squinting and disappearing with his thumbs up.
"Pay no attention. Rinaldo is just pretending not to understand” said the girl with a shrug of her back.
"That makes two of us" he said.
Daisy explained that the record company was organizing a nightclub night for her.
"They want me at Dancing Sport. Does that awful name mean anything to you?"
"The disco in Castelmuso?"
Daisy nodded. "Sit down, so I can explain. Wait I’ll get something to drink." Guido followed Daisy with his eyes all the way from the living room to the kitchen. He saw her
disappear behind a booth made of glass portholes that broke her silhouette into many small round reflections. She came back into the living room with two cold, blonde beers.
Guido, observing her, could not fail to appreciate her natural elegance. Daisy wore a pair of black trousers with three golden buttons along the ankles, tight enough to enhance the shape of her long, slender legs. Above, a pearl coloured silk shirt embroidered with a rose motif. He wore it all with such naturalness that Guido thought it couldn't be the result of chance. He knew how simple it was, in reality, something laborious. He imagined Daisy sitting in front of the mirror, trying her hairstyle, choosing what to wear, how to wear makeup and which shoes to wear. And, once she'd settled in, presenting herself to the audience as if everything was divinely casual.
She sat next to him and toasted the cold curves of the bottles.
"I told you about Dancing Sport. I think that disco is a piece of my heart. I grew up in it. And since I'm home, I wanted to take the opportunity to see some old friends. After the accident, my desire became almost a necessity."
She explained that Rinaldo had already arranged everything. "Soon you will receive the invitations. I'm not going to sing anyway. I'll be sitting at a table with friends, drinking champagne and signing autographs. "They say this will be enough to fill the place."
Guido thanked her for the invitation, even though he wasn't sure he would accept.
He didn't like clubs, he had never been to Castelmuso's, and he didn't want to be with Daisy in a context that was completely foreign to him, where he would certainly feel awkward, out of place and, perhaps, even a little ridiculous.
There was a moment of silence, not because anyone had anything to say, but because there was a risk of bringing up unwanted topics from their past.
"Tell me about the diary" exclaimed Daisy, who added, "I thought I'd lost it. The message you sent me was not very clear" she said.
He told her about the blackmailer who wanted to blackmail him, about the Albanian-style fist of Filippa, about the thugs Leo Fratesi beaten up.
Daisy listened to all the details. Every detail changed from time to time: she became frightened and anxious, outraged, shocked, ashamed, and even exulted. As always, she had a strong empathy for the lives of others.
Daisy took the journal, turned it over in her hands, and exclaimed, "Tell me the truth. Didn't you want to take a look at it?"
"Are you kidding me. Of course not!" he was surprised.
"Would you like to read a few passages?"
"I don't know. It's your stuff."
"It's... ours. Let's see, come on!"
Daisy opened the diary, scrolled through the thick pages of neat, punctilious handwriting. She dwelt on a poem written when she was 16. He approached Daisy as if he wanted to read with her, unable to avoid contact with her soft hips. She didn't retract, as if she longed for that moment of intimacy, but without being fully aware of it.
The twilight of illusions
At age 16, I first considered the idea of love. I imagined it as the wings of an airplane spread out along impassable, endless routes, the world beneath, as bright as a giant's smile. As I trembled, I saw the airplane avoid clouds full of warnings and promises...
As they read, they became aware of memories that sometimes turned out to be unhappy and unpleasant. Daisy's voice gradually rose, bubbling with emotion. She was enraptured by the puerile and sincere verses of that poem about Guido.
...wings brushing against lush trees bathed in the scents of the earth. Wings that I would never have imagined to lap the abyss of the stormy sea. Wings turning upwards, piercing grey carpets of clouds, and then rising up there, where the blue, eternal, immense calm, struggling with the roar of hurricanes.
Guido listened with fascination, even though he was not so attracted to the content of the poem. The girl's voice at times vibrated, trembled, faded, became light, then hardened and broke, and rose again, restless and poignant.
How many times have I seen the airplane draw a furrow, a shining track that, like a broken promise, slowly faded and faded away, disappearing like the love that was.
Nevertheless, the plane will continue to spread its wings again and again and again and again, ploughing through the skies of our souls. And filling them with pious illusions.
"Fuck. You moved me” commented Guido.
"They're just memories" she cut short.
Daisy's cell phone was vibrating all the time. She turned it off, throwing it in the far corner of the sofa. She closed the diary. She put her hand
on her shiny hair, which swayed softly on her shoulder, and said, "Guido, you really didn't notice anything?"
"What should I notice?"
"Look around you. There's no one around. Do you think it's a coincidence?"
"I don't understand" he replied, confused, looking for an answer in his eyes.
"They've left us alone. On purpose" Daisy brushed his chest with her fingers under the pretext of pulling a hair off his
shirt. Her hand lingered on his sturdy chest, caressing it with sensual tenderness.
"I saw your tears at the hospital, Guido."
He, taken by surprise, did not answer at once. He grabbed the slender gold frame of his glasses with his fingers, pulling them out of his face. He massaged his eyes, his thumb on one eyelid, his index finger on the other, in a tired motion.
"I cried. It is true" he confessed, "I thought you were dead. You know that... you know how much I care about you. But I'm not here to talk about the past, or the accident. It's better to talk about something else, isn't it?"
"No. We need to talk about it" she exclaimed. "We've interrupted an important story. It was my fault. I've never forgiven myself." She caressed his face with her pale, trembling hand. She placed the diary on the curve of the pillow, approaching him.
She kissed him on the mouth.
He stood motionless, almost detached, as if he didn't realize that what was happening was real.
Then the passion and desire woke up like the wind brought by a hurricane. Guido kissed her on the neck, eyes, hands, greedily, frantically. They embraced each other, breathlessly, with the awareness of being, since ever, the breath of a single soul.
Adriano was upstairs in front of the computer, writing down a little tune that had been buzzing in his head for days and that he wanted to translate into music.
Suddenly the notes disappeared from his mind. The boy took his fingers off the keyboard. He clenched his fists bending over, his face staring at the floor. He closed his eyes with the feeling that the parasite was searching for new spaces within him.
The Dawn of Sin Page 14