No Direction Rome

  I’m not leaving, Krantik. What happened?

  I’m sorry, I mutter. I damaged some stuff. The TV and the oven are mine. I’ll pay you for the table and the mirror.

  Forget the mirror. What happened to you?

  Now he’s removed the bat and is sitting in front of me. He’s taller than me, so when he’s on the low Ikea chair his face is level with mine.

  Nothing.

  You can tell me.

  I have nothing to say to you. Everything, everyone, is a lie. How do I face anyone?

  He sighs and studies the painting. He’s tapping his knees. That’s a really ugly painting, he says.

  Yes, it is.

  The next time I go to Brazil, I’ll get you a poster of one of their hot chicas. You can cover that up. I’ll find a great poster for you. Would that be nice?

  Yes, that would be nice.

  I have to go feed the turtles now. I was out till late because Nonna wanted a late-night walk, so I had to go out with her. But she doesn’t like to see me in normal clothes. She loves telling everyone that I’m such a hotshot pilot. She’ll tell the supermarket counter girls, she’ll tell the grocery store man, she’ll even tell the TV that Leonardo’s a top pilot.

  Is that why you keep your uniform on? I ask, but he doesn’t confirm, just stands up hurriedly.

  Anyway, I have to go. The turtles get really upset when dinner’s late.

  He waits at the door while his boots crunch mirrors on the ground.

  I’ve done a lot of living. Some of it hasn’t been very honourable. But I’ve learnt a few things.

  Such as what? I ask, still facing away from him.

  Life is a lot like the Kim Kardashian phenomenon. There’s no reason for it. There’s no point to it. But it’s there.

  I turn around.

  So there is no lie, he continues, because there is no truth.

  So what do we do?

  You find something to love.

  That doesn’t solve anything if it’s another lie.

  No it doesn’t. But it’s the most beautiful lie in the world.

  After Leonardo leaves, I stay on the couch for some time. I can see the Roman temple walls through the window. In some time, they slowly change colour as the dawn leaks into the night. I get up and leave. I need some air. There’s no point sleeping now. I have my operation in four hours.

  When I walk past the corner of my building and away from Leonardo and his turtles, I see the ZZ Top homeless man. He’s picking up cigarette butts from the ground. I stop near him.

  Scusa. Scusa mi.

  He looks up.

  Dove è . . .

  I speak English, he says.

  Do you know where the Colosseo is?

  Yes, it’s straight ahead of you.

  Oh, yes, thank you.

  I pull out a cigarette and offer it to him. I walk away and he calls out.

  Do you know what they say about the Colosseo?

  What do they say?

  They say: As long as the Colosseo stands, Rome will stay. If the Colosseo crumbles, then Rome will fall. And if Rome falls, the whole world will fall.

  He takes a satisfied drag of his cigarette.

  And then I ask him: Are you busy?

  Does it look like I’m busy?

  Do you want to go for a walk?

  Sure. Where are we going?

  To find something to keep the Colosseo up, I said. What’s your name?

  Sisyphus.

  Cool, I’m Krantik, I said. And walked downhill with him to the pile of rocks that was the Colosseo.