Lizzi Bizzi and the Red Witch

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Lizzi Bizzi and the Red Witch Page 65

by Stefano Pastor


  «Mum, shut up unless you want to end up in hospital!».

  My husband looked at me languid. «You going out? But didn’t we have to… ?».

  «For tonight you will have to be happy with a solitaire!», I cried. I got my coat and bag and walked away.

  Heck, how much did it cost! The shop was literary in front of us!

  I crossed the road and went in. In the water section, all I could find was boxes and boxes of still natural water.

  I called the owner. «And the fizzy water?».

  He said: «They have just emptied the ban, come back tomorrow».

  He couldn’t talk to me like that!

  «So, you are telling me that you have some! Could you get me a bottle then!».

  «There’s certain things that I don’t do, there’s the boy for the manual labour!».

  I counted to five. «I’m making tortellini. As soon as they are ready I can send you some for yourself and your wife».

  «Oh! Thank you so much, Mrs. Maria».

  «And that water?».

  «Ah… I’ll go and find the boy and send him to you».

  He arrived after a couple of minutes. He looked like an idiot, just looking at him, he was chewing something that couldn’t be named and his nose was running.

  «You are Cettina’s mother?».

  I was horrified. «You know her?».

  «She’s a good one. But she doesn’t go out with me».

  I thank God for that. «You have to go and get me a bottle of fizzy water. Fizzy, understood?».

  «I’m out of service».

  «What?», I shouted.

  «I’ve finished my shift a minute ago».

  I closed my eyes for an instant. «Do you like tortellini?»

  «Naaa! They make me sick!».

  I took a long breath. «What are you doing this Saturday evening? Do you want to go out with my daughter?».

  «Cettina? She doesn’t like me!».

  It would of cost me a lot, but it could be done. «So? You want to?».

  «OF COURSE!».

  «Go and get me that stupid water bottle then!».

  «Ok! Ok!».

  I got back home more effected. Nobody was doing anything. And I couldn’t complain as they would reply with, they have finished they tasks. I was the one late, the tortellini weren’t ready yet.

  I poured a glass of water for Luigino and took it to him.

  «Happy now?».

  «It’s warm!».

  «I can put some ice, if you want».

  Cettina horrified. «But the ice you make it with tap water from the toilet! You know what’s in there!».

  Luigino shook his head with resignation. «As a mother you are crap, you know that. You just don’t work».

  I went back to the tortellini before choking him.

  «For tonight…», my husband started.

  I ignored him. «Cettina! You still want to go out Saturday night?».

  A grunt. «What’s the catch?».

  «At what time is the curfew? At eleven? And if I moved it to one?».

  «You can corrupt me, I know! What do you want me to do, who do I have to kill?».

  «I’ll tell you later, you will see that we can come to an agreement».

  «This water is disgusting!», shouted Luigino. «We haven’t got any orange juice».

  «Orange Juice», I repeated, shocked.

  My husband in the meanwhile he was serving himself from the fridge. Getting the spicy peperoni, in preparation for our crazy night. He answers. «No, no orange juice. Mum forgot to buy it».

  I knew what the next request was going to be. «Forget it, not even a week of unbridled sex!».

  I looked around, found myself being watched by frozen eyes.

  «The tortellini…», I started, but without any wants.

  God, how the days had changed! And to think that before you only needed a plate of tortellini for each to straighten the rights! Never a complain, all happy! But now…

  September 2010

  THE LESSON

  Translation by Ale

  «Guys, please! Would you be quiet?».

  I keep on writing down on the blackboard. I know that’s only the first period, they’ll soon calm down. After all they are already sixteen.

  I write the last digit and turn my self. «You have an hour of time to solve these equations. Don’t mess up…».

  There’s something odd. Of course some of them are chatting, but that’s not it. There’s something more, but what is it?

  A girl is sitting in the front seat. A cute blondie, with a nice little light blue dress. I don’t recall having seen her before.

  «Who are you?».

  The girl stares at me in the eyes. «Bandini, teacher».

  I don’t understand. I don’t have any pupil with that name. Not a girl, at least. I frown. «Davide?».

  The laughter of the classmates cover the answer. «If you think it’s a funny joke…».

  He’s deeply serious. «No joke».

  «Then, what does it mean?».

  A prideful glance. «I’m tired of hiding, teacher. Tired to pretend what I am not. That’s my true nature, under the clothes that I’m wearing».

  The whispering of his classmates intensifies. I keep his stare. That guy has chosen my lesson as to declare the world that he’s gay? Couldn’t have he done it during another class? Even more, in which way!

  «You don’t understand…».

  «Does it bother you?».

  «The fact that you come to school dressed up in that way? Yes, a lot».

  «I, instead, truly feel myself for the very first time. I have disguised myself my whole life, and now I’m tired».

  He doesn’t understand what’s he doing, how he’s destroying his life. I speak to the others. «What do you think about this?».

  Answering together: «Cute!», «We prefer you now!», «Your wig is crooked!», «You haven’t shaved yourself!».

  I let it pass. «I don’t believe that…».

  He interrupts me. «Should I go? Don’t you want me in your classroom?».

  I have a lump in my throat. I’m already imagining the scandal that will come out of this. Should I accept him for what he is or kick him out? He keeps on staring at me so I’m forced to look down.

  I clear my throat. «There’s only fifty minutes left! Come on, don’t waste any more time». Referring to him. «You too, Davide. Is Davide still how I’m supposed to call you?».

  The class explodes in laughter.

  «Vera, wait, before you get in I have to tell you something».

  How can I tell her that an idiotic student has decided all of a sudden to change his gender? Vera teaches history and is a very fussy person. She annoyedly watches at the time. «One second». I turn to close the door of the classroom. Inside there’s a hellish din. I peek with my head.

  I keep my mouth shut. The blonde wig has disappeared and all around Davide his classmates are quickly undressing and dressing him up again. They seem like some mechanics at the Ferrari’s pit. Davide glances at me and winks.

  I watch him paralyzed, while the female clothes disappear and he gets dressed up in his usual way.

  Then I close the door back again while my heart is choking me. «What?», asks Vera worried.

  I’m sick. «I guess they found out. About me. About you. About us».

  Now is Vera the one that frowns. «Have they told you?».

  «They made me understand it».

  Vera smiles.

  «There’s nothing to smile for! It’s a disaster!».

  «I’m not ashamed. I’m tired of hiding».

  «Well, I am!», I reply. «You don’t see, we could be fired for this!».

  «What do our students think? Are they against it?».

  Of course not, they made me understand that I should take off this uncomfortable dress. I shake my head.

  Vera leans on me and kisses me on my lips. «Smart kids!».

  March 2010

 
NOT IN MY NAME

  Translation by Cinzia Albanese

  How can you accept it? How can you allow it to happen? You say that you are made of love, that we are all your sons! That I am too! So how can you allow it? They are hurting me, they want to kill me! Why won’t you help me? I’m not even born and you are accusing me of a crime that others have done in my place, you are condemning me to the eternal limbo. How can you do it? How can you be ok that such abomination is done?

  I don’t want to die. I can’t defend myself, there’s no way. Only you can do something, only you can stop them from killing me. Talk to them, make them understand that I exist. That I am important, that I’m his son, that he can’t get rid of me like this. That I have a life in front of me, a beautiful future. That I could be special, something unique. That an opportunity should be given that can’t finish like this. Save me, you that can.

  Father I beg you, save me!

  The foetus was nearly formed.

  It had the eyes closed and the arms locked. It didn’t move anymore. Doctor Martin put a cloth over the basin to hide it from sight.

  «You lied to me», he said.

  The woman already stood up from the operation table, she even got dressed. Now she was sat on a chair, in front of the desk.

  The table was still dirty with blood.

  «Will I be able to have other children?».

  Doctor Martin couldn’t but appreciate her strength. Despite all this Klara resisted. Not even two hours ago she risked her life.

  «Out of the question».

  He checked her pulse, to see if the beating got back to normal, then he sat down in front of her. «Why did you lie to me?».

  It was obvious, but she told him anyway. «You wouldn’t have done it».

  «You were in the fifth month».

  «You went with it anyway, didn’t you?».

  Doctor Martin looked down, he couldn’t look into her gaze. Yes, he did go forwards with it, even when he realised. He could have stopped. For a minute he prayed for something, someone, would have stopped him.

  «I’ve never done it before».

  No, in all his career in medicine he had never performed an abortion, not even for a good cause. He had always refused. Until she came back.

  «How did you manage to hide it?».

  Klara was silent.

  To the doctor Martin it seemed impossible that he managed to hide her state for so long. «Your husband knew!».

  He looked at her with disbelieve. But then, there wasn’t any other explanation. «Was it his baby? Did he know?».

  Klara grimaced. «Of course, it was his! Who do you think it would have been?».

  «And he didn’t do anything to stop you?».

  There was a long silence.

  «We’ve already got three children; don’t you think it’s enough?», she shrugged. «And on top of it he’s not made to be a father».

  «I’m sorry», whispered doctor Martin.

  «His never been one. His too needy. And now he’s old, he doesn’t need other children».

  Not her, she was still young and fresh. Doctor Martin still couldn’t understand why she decided to marry him, a widow much older than her of more than thirty years. «Why… ?».

  «What does it matter, Martin?».

  «I need to understand».

  «What do you want me to say? That I was mistaken? It doesn’t matter anymore. It’s hard as it is, without having to look after another child. We don’t have enough money. And it’s true, Alois wouldn’t have been able to be a father, he wouldn’t be able to educate him».

  How much she loved that woman in front of him! So many wonderful moments together, when they were children. He never through they would meet again in such a way.

  «I wouldn’t have done it for anyone else, Klara».

  «I know Martin. That’s why I came to you».

  «I’m against these things, Klara. Babies are a gift from God, always. Even if they are not yet born. He has blessed them. I chose to protect life, not to get rid of it».

  «You’ve done it», whispered the woman.

  «Don’t you love him? Haven’t you loved him not even for an instant? You have never wondered what it could have been?».

  Klara was silent.

  «Growing up, Klara. Looking after him. See him growing bigger».

  «Why do we need to talk about it now? It’s dead».

  Doctor Martin knew it very well, but couldn’t give himself peace.

  «What if the world lost something? Something unique, something priceless? Have you really never asked yourself what your son could have been, what he could have accomplished?».

  Another smirk appeared on the woman’s face.

  «A lawyer, Klara. O a doctor like me, he could have saved so many lives, discovered a new vaccination! O a priest. He could have done big things in the lords’ name! Make miracles!».

  Klara’s look was getting colder.

  «And even if he didn’t, what does it matter? Even if he was a simple mechanic, wouldn’t you have loved him the same?».

  «I had a dream Martin».

  That sentence confused him. «What does that got to do with it?».

  «It wasn’t a dream, I should have said a nightmare. A horrible nightmare».

  «I don’t understand».

  Klara did make any other explanation. «I have to go, Alois will be back soon».

  She was a stranger, the woman in front of him. There was no trace of that girl who he loved. But, when he found her crying, when she begged him to help her, then, for a minute, he felt as he went back in time, he believed nothing had changed. Klara needed him, how long he waited for that moment!

  He loved her again, even after what she asked him to do.

  «Wait!», he stopped her with a nod. «I’ll write you a prescription».

  He got a piece of paper and dipped the pen into the ink. Then started writing. Linz, 18 January 1889.

  «I don’t want anyone to know», said Klara.

  The doctor continues writing. «Don’t worry it’s only a medicine against fever. It could come back, don’t think you are out of any danger».

  «It doesn’t matter».

  Yes, now she was a stranger. A cold face, emotionless. Now there was no need to recite, she got what she wanted. Stupid of him to think that parts of the of Klara were still there.

  He folded the paper and gave it to her. She made it disappear inside her bag without even looking at it. And tried to stand up.

  «Wait! You are too weak, I’ll help you!».

  She pushed him away with one hand and lift herself up on her own.

  What strength, and how cold in her manners.

  «Klara…».

  She turned towards the door, but there was no life in her eyes. «Goodbye, Doctor Martin».

  Was it supposed to finish like that? For her he was now an assassin, a monster, and even so that woman had now forgotten about him. He wasn’t part of her life, he never was part of it.

  Doctor Martin opened the door for her and tried to be cold and distant for his side. Yes, it was a goodbye, he knew he would never see her again. A meteor that destroyed all his existence. He asked himself if he could ever forgive himself for what he had done.

  He hunted in the memory, trying to remember what was his name, because now he was also looking to disconnect, total disconnection.

  In a cold voice, he said «Goodbye, Mrs Hitler».

  May 2010

  PIERROT

  Translation by Tea Todorovik

  Once upon a time, in a distant country, there was a woodcutter living in the woods, with his wife and his seven children.

  I, Pierrot, was the oldest child and I was ten. After me our parents had tweens, three of them were nine years and two of them were eight years old, and it was not easy to distinguish them. Last born was Tom Thumb, who was only seven.

  He was quiet, maybe too much quiet and he never spoke. We all thought that he was not very clever, poor little boy. E
ven mom always said that we had to be kind to him, because he is not to be blamed that he was born like that.

  Tom Thumb was not his real name, of course, it was a nickname that daddy gave him and he called him that ay when he drank too much and when he was telling his stories. And as dad often tended to exaggerate, he describes his son as such a small creature – not bigger than his thumb. So everyone started calling him that way and no one remembered any longer his real name.

  Our family was neither rich nor famous, but to me it did not matter, I was so happy. I knew that my mother loved me, always saying that I was her favorite, and even dad was proud of me, he considered me his closest companion. We were so happy, even when food was not abundant, and we didn’t have any problems.

  One day, however, Tom Thumb came to talk to me. This by itself was already an unusual thing, because he always preferred to stay away, and as f it was not enough, he began to speak. I was so amazed that I did not even think about interrupting him.

  «Pierrot», he said, «Dad and mom want to abandon us! I heard them talking to each other. They complained that there was not enough money, they could not feed seven unnecessary mouths and they did not have the heart to see us starve! Dad proposed to take us to the woods and leave us there. Mom cried, but after all, she agreed».

  «And how did you find out this?», I asked.

  Tom Thumb admitted the truth without any shame. «I spied on them. They never saw me».

  Well, in your opinion, what was I supposed to do? I was the oldest child, it was up to me to undertake something, in an absence of a dad. I took things under control, of course, and I made it clear to Tom Thumb what I will do is he dares to speak badly about our parents again.

  It was intolerable what he said, so absurd that I did not even take it into account. Mom and dad loved us, they would have never left us.

  Plus, Tom Thumb was crazy, we all knew it. I had another proof of that the next morning, when I surprised him coming home. After being given a new threat, he confessed that he went down to the river to collect stones. And he proved it, showing me his pockets full of white pebbles. Really stupid, right? I gave him two slaps and told him he should never do that again.

  Soon after, dad was getting ready to go to work, and he suggested that we can also accompany him to help. It made me feel proud. We went to the thick woods, with dad and mom in the front and all of us following in a row. As a captain, I was keeping an eye on my brothers to make sure no one stays behind.

 

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