Viva la vida (english version)
Page 10
10. The last retouches.
The morning at 9.30 o'clock I was awake and, despite I didn't have the hurry to reach the place of employment, I have had the usual ritual breakfast with the usual exact times, only that have remained more some under the shower. After being washes me, I have put to fumble with the computer, worried about not to have provveduto to the realization of the sonorous column of the trip yet. I loved to create Cd devoted to the events and I possessed the custom designed compilations of almost all the trips and of different organized parties. Besides the" Calabria 2004" and to the two volumes" Monk 2006", there was the everlasting one" Summer' 99" and the always green" New Year's eve 2001." In more, the whole harvest for the life of every day, for the moves in car, for the stereo of the bath.
In that period my definitive compilation" PC" (Paul Compilation) you/he/she had reached quota sessantotto titles, even if to say the truth I had for house two PC 18 and two PC 27 without however to have any PC 30. I was forgotten him to me. To every way, I held shed Cd anywhere and more times I had risked a façade with the car in the attempt to change disk while I was driving. I became crazy trying to unthread and to insert my creations in the case box with the open plastic pockets on a side, every time they were folded up me the angles and I did an inhuman work to put again the Cd to place. How come anybody I wondered me you/he/she had invented a more comfortable system and I had started even planning a more practical system. I had not succeeded there. To obviate, would have been able to buy an autoradio that he/she read the MP3s, to connect us a portable reader with a good memory and to resolve the problem. This however you/he/she would have enacted the term of the production of compilation and I have desisted soon. The first times I considered my harvests as exclusive and only anthologies, then, entering the car of a friend of Chiara, a certain Laura, has noticed that you/he/she had scattered for the cabin numerous titled cd" LC" (Laura Compilation) and that the disk listened at that time, contained in common a lot of traces with my harvests. You/he/she has been at that time that I have understood how much the cars of the whole world were full of Paul, Laura, Luca, Franco, Michael, Joan, Colette and even Rashid Compilation and, to detach in that so competitive world of traces audio, has begun to absolutely make Compilation and collage of absurd songs. I mixed unknown artists of Italian traditional music or foreigner with the classical ones of the pop one, concert music and sacred monsters of the rock, music light Italian and sonorous columns of film. I mixed the creations without a precise connection, in an eccentric cocktail of illogical music. A condominium of artists where coinquilinis were Bocelli and Eminem, Puccini and the Dire Straitses, the Negritas and the Maloses Cantores. I liked the whole casualness, it caught me every time and it gave me the possibility to find in every album at least a proper song for the moment.
David when it climbed on on my car it put on fixed to smanettare with the autoradio. Before it reproached me to be a blunderer, even it said then:
«Also do me him to me a Cd in which so many are of it. But not cagate, beautiful songs!»
David didn't understand a cazzo of music and you/he/she would not have known how to distinguish the Pink Floyd from the Queen, however you/he/she had a romantic musical mind, even if some naive and decidedly mieloso. If I proposed him great medley with Gigi Di Alessio, Titian Ferro, Paul Meneguzzi and Mark Carta I broke down an open door.
My musical passion grazed the mania and in effects I had also tried to play her/it the music, but my vocation was anymore decidedly the listening. I know a lot of authors, a lot of memory texts, a lot of solo of guitar or bases of arcs or you roll of battery. I was so fixed to consider me a kind of musical critic. Not one of those that make merciless critiques on the blogs, only an experienced consumer, a connoisseur.
Certain times it ended that I settled down me with a motive or with a strophe and I listened to him up to the nausea. Looking at a for example, replies of Benny Hill I was taken me one fixed for the tune" But nah but nah"e I had spent four days continuously passing him/it in every instrument of reproduction to my course. I believed to go crazy.
However, when I have ended of masterizzare the Cd for the trip to the bachelorhood I didn't know whether to name them. I have attended, to the search of a title, ten good minutes with the lost look in the screen of the PC and the black pennarello in the hand. At the end I have written": Mark, turn of Italy, volume one, two and three" and a good name is seemed me.
At 11.00 o'clock, before putting me to the stoves, I have decided to grant me a moment of antistress on some correct site, but I have not done in time, stopped by the phone call of my mother that he/she asked me if at least in vacations I felt like having lunch from them. I have accepted.
I/you/they have arrived to house of mine that it missed few to midday, correct the time to grant me that moment of antistress on some correct site that by now I had put scheduled.
It always gives me a strange feeling to return home. To return in that that is not my house anymore, but that I have always considered my house, even if indeed you/he/she has never been my house, agreement as ownership. In short it does me strange to return in the place, where I/you/they are grown.
The net that coasts along the avenue, that where in summer the flying bucks were broken, it was there always and the apartments seen lake of the ladylike condominium, conceived and been born in the magic ones' 70 to seduce the desires of wealthy buyers, had not suffered great interventions of façade, also preserving a pleasant and harmonious aspect.
They were almost two months that I didn't go from mine, I don't know the motive. I saw my father because I gave to find him/it in the bookstore, I saw my mother because it gave to find me to house, I saw my brother because we found around us, but to the old house I didn't return there; I repeat, I don't know the motive.
You/they had just restructured the atrium of the building. It was brighter and to the place of the carpet, you/they had placed plates of white marble to half wall. Luckily, the renewal didn't twist the essence of that entry that for a long time I held pits a room of decompression between the house and the world: sufficiency Heat in the months winter, fresh and restful in the summer months.
Entered house, nobody has come me meeting barking insistent. Pippo, the half-caste wrangler of mine, had become so much deaf and old to have lost the desire of sbranare the intruders.
I have greeted my mother without particular smancerie, she has done the same with me. My father had not reentered yet. I have looked for then Henry, but he/she still slept and you/he/she had probably done very slow because it was sleepy of whom has passed an evening it toasts.
Contrarily in the whole house, Henry's room, that first it was our room and first it was only still room my, you/he/she was changed completely. The walls painted to the best in blue and in blue, the collage of photo attached here badly with patches of adhesive ribbon and her, the poster of Bruce Lee with the scratch on the breast and the hand that it was not understood as you/he/she was positioned, the collection cans and the cup 2001 good gunboats, even the mobiletto with tactical drawers full of material pornographic: there was not more nothing. Henry had cancelled every trace of my passage. The room that my was alone, become then our room and after still room of Henry, it was a normal anonymous room with white walls painted without castings of color, some photos framed in frame minimal, the portable one and two blue biros on the desk of clear wood, a screen Lcd hung in front of the bed, the shirt of the departed evening well silver ware above the appendiabiti.
Henry had just developed the examination of maturity and the deserved summer rest enjoyed just him as I had done me before beginning mine tormented and depressing university career.
After all my father has always thought soft educational lines: if you did your job of student and you were promoted, no summer jobs. I don't believe that my mother, inflexible as it is, it agreed so much, but when sbottava inveighing that" they are not spoiled so his/her children" and that" it is not possible to get up every day t
o midday", my father answered her that" there is once for everything and that we would have had to work of it of time."
To my opinion it was right.
I have drawn near to the bed of Henry not knowing if it were the case to wake up him/it or less. My mother, that turned for house as in the meantime possessed for the domestic matters, every doubt has removed from me.
«Wake up goes him/it! What every day you/he/she cannot be lifted to midday!»
Then I have wakened up him.
«Enrincoglionito, good morning!» I have whispered vigorously shaking the loom of the bed.
«Ah, hi! Does Cazzo do us here?» you/he/she has answered perplexed.
«Behs, are in vacations! Can I sometimes return home also, no?» I have replied.
«And thing you want? Do you eat here?» you/he/she has asked again, almost bored by my presence.
«Oh, not do exaggerate with the regards, begs me! I would not like to move me for all these sentimentalisms! You give, vatti to wash that you are already me on the balls!» I have concluded esterrefatto.
«Minchia that headache!» you/he/she has exclaimed in innocence, before getting up of release to race to make himself/herself/themselves a shower. It had the face swollen style" Munch's Cry" just as his/her brother.
With Henry in bath, I/you/they have returned in the living room asking to my mother if I had to prepare. You/he/she has not answered, it was in competitive trance.
My mother is Olympic champion of cleanings of house, black belt fifth dan of scrubbing brush and university teacher during" techniques and strategies anti-acaro."
Rags and straccetti, climb anywhere, ago cleaning in free climbing and it possesses such a powerful vacuum cleaner to suspect that has put make up on him as we did us with the mopeds.
When mother is taken back by the fury, you/he/she has murmured «No, she leaves alone, I do me!»
Favoring I/you/they are gone out her/it on the balcony to smoke me a cigarette.
From house of mine the lake is seen.
It is an exceptional panorama, almost to the levels of the belvedere. I will have fixed, but the sensational thing, the most unbelievable thing of that panorama, is in the not to have considered before never that foreshortening the same of the day. For 26 years in that house, I am sure to never have seen a sunset or a dawn, equal to another and every time that I have looked with the correct eyes, new and unthinkable colors have made me feel a privileged.
I remember a morning when I woke up soon. There was still the moon, enormous and very beautiful, that infused an almost mystical energy to every profile of house and every gradient of ground. As an amazed tourist, has gone off a photo with the digitalis. Framed, now it is suspended in room as it was a poster of a distant place.
To midday and a half my father has arrived.
So careless and sweaty, under a ridiculous capellino brought in ridiculous way, when I have seen him enter you/he/she is seemed me more old man. To August the bookstore was closed and he was given to the garden, just as an elderly. Owner of a beautiful slice of agricultural ground, in the time you/he/she had built you a cottage and a pair of unauthorized farmhouses. A beautiful garden, a small orchard, two caprettes and a hen-pen constituted the most greater part of its appointments and the pacific oasis of its loneliness. I believed that in effects that ground pits the shelter of my father and fact never went there.
Just acknowledged him my presence, you/he/she has greeted me almost surprised. You/he/she has extinguished the cellular phone with the usual difficulty for the littleness of the keys and you/he/she has gone to wash him the hands. Gone out of the bath where Henry sticks himself/herself/themselves you/he/she was washing, table is sat to and you/he/she has opened the wine: a Cabernet.
At 12.45 o'clock we were all and four ready for the lunch, thing that never happened when we lived together everybody, because each of us had his/her own times, his/her own dishes, the own tovaglietta. Mother in fact for the event you/he/she had exposed the tablecloth of institution.
It has not needed that we penetrated a lot there in the meal because my mother started to storm me of questions.
«How the job goes? Chiara you have seen her again? Have you felt her? And your hateful colleague? Is there still? And when you depart? And when he marries Mark? But is it happy? But have you/they looked for him his/her child or has you/he/she happened?» You/he/she has bombarded me, gossipy and curious as I didn't remember. I was aware of how much hunger it had to see me and to speak to me, but I have in every declared case that if you/he/she had had intention to poison me the food with a third degree of his, I would have returned sat home of it stante. Passed the abrupt reaction, I have answered with calm to all the set questions.
For the rest, it was a more normal scene that of us to table. An any Italian family: my father, my mother, me, Henry and the Cabernet. Only Henry was particularly silent and I hypothesized that you/he/she had spent indeed a hard evening, because when you/he/she was in vein Henry he spoke a country house.
While I was eating overwhelmed by the chatters of my mother, I have realized that Henry by now it was a man. I had never done there case, I had always thought that my smaller brother would have been forever my little brother and believed that I would always have had on him the power to decide to thing he plays or thing looks him in television. An instant and my little brother have become distracted you/he/she had biologically become a complete man, as me.
Mother had prepared the salad of rice, you/he/she had done her for me, because I adore him.
There is inside everything in a salad of rice sort as it is owed: gherkins, carciofini, olives, wurstel, ham, cheeses, peppers, peas, corn, everything. Yet the salad of rice doesn't know neither of gherkins, neither of carciofini, neither of olives, neither of wurstel, neither of ham, neither of cheeses, neither of peppers, neither of peas, neither so much less than corn. The salad of rice, knows about salad of rice and, to want to see, the people are some as the salad of rice. I am so full of sides, draw, attitudes and facets, that cannot be defined of precise. Them same are alone.
Ended to eat the first dish I have taken a long glass of wine. I would like to have notions of enologia, to be as the sommeliers of the television programs that look at the color of the wine, they sniff him/it, they taste him/it and they recommend the proper combinings with the food. I like to look when they taste him/it and they absolutely find amazing calls. Certain times however, when I drink, I wonder me as can find in a wine signs of graphite or musk and I wonder me if, to recognize the taste of the graphite, trains us eating the mines of the pencils.
A thing that puts me to uneasiness is when they make you taste the wine to verify if the bottle is all right. Once I have had the face, it toasts to say that wine was bad and I has made to replace the bottle. When I have opened the new bottle, I have realized that it was not a matter of maintenance, it was really that wine that made cagare.
However the Cabernet of my father was good and as always agreeable, contrarily of Henry that was dark and shady. I have tried to understand what it didn't go and I have asked him:
«Enrì, thing you have? Six moscios!»
«I have ache of teeth!» you/he/she has answered scorbutic.
«The whole week that is this way! That is only well with his/her friends» polemic mother is inserted, and despite also me I/you had tried uneasiness for the irritating cut of the tones, I/you/they have remained of stone seeing how Henry you/he/she was literally inflamed and violent against her.
«But you that cazzo you want? Have I asked you something? Possible that owe always to say yours?»
«Henry speaks well» you/he/she has tried to soothe him/it my father, cantilenante and demotivato.
Henry however it was uncontrollable. It was as possessed, and I didn't understand what you/he/she could instigate so much ferocity. The answer that has given to my father has not been certain tender.
«But pure vaffanculo you!»
And after hav
ing recorded my incredulity, you/he/she has gotten up from table, the keys of the car that it divided with my mother and you/he/she is gone out beating the door has taken.
I have immediately understood that behind the attitude of Henry there were motivations of which I was unaware and the bland opposition too much that had received from mine it was not but a confirmation.
It had an illegible hate in the eyes.
In every case, I have not asked nessun'altra explanation to my parents and however they is involved as if they wanted to reorganize happens him. Discussions as those then I had lived her thousand turned by protagonist and I didn't want of sure a revision.
I have ended to eat with rapidity, as soon as in time to avoid to assist to a new quarrel.
My mother has started to accuse my father to be a soft man, one that didn't count anything in family, and you/he/she has continued sustaining that she would never be been able to turn so to his/her mother without taking a lot of blows from my grandfather. My father, an eye and a half to the Newscast, have beaten her that Henry had exaggerated, but she could avoid to intervene himself/herself/themselves in that way.
Open yourself sky.
I have done for lifting me and I have communicated to my mother that the week would have departed to come. I have added thoughtful not to worry himself/herself/themselves about nothing, that I was well and that I would have called them me.
You has not considered a lot my recommendations, too assembled to accuse his/her husband.
«Here see, once that your child comes, do him/it escape! Beautiful family that we are!»
Subsequently sees the hurry with which I was about me to run away from the teatrino, you/he/she has added concise «Paul you go to find Mr. Mario that is fallen again. It is to the hospital, you/he/she has told me him the lady Lina. It seems that this time is made seriously evil!»
I have immediately greeted both without great gestures. Both have reserved me a false benevolence, they almost wanted to make to intend to be victim one of the other. The thing has given me deeply bother, but I have avoided to pronounce me and to throw other gasoline on the fire.
While I was crossing the path with the net where in summer the flying bucks were stamped, I still felt it shouts her of my mother and I imagined the disagreeable silences of my father. I have been ashamed for them, then I have stopped listening to them and I have tried to remember me who cazzo was Mrs Lina.
The odor of hospital was as I remembered. Mine was an ancient memory, I had not been in the hospital anymore from when I had had the bronchopneumonia. I was 13 years old. Yet that odor remains you so engraved that I/you/he/she don't forget him/it anymore. You can be in Milan, to Pescara or to Catania, but the odor is there always that: a bouquet made of detergents of cheap brands, disinfectant alcoholic, ether, gusts of urine and wax for floors. You want for the odor, you want for the environment, there are people that would never go us to the hospital. David would be able of to also undergo an operation alone himself/herself/themselves the calculations not to have hospitalized. To me it doesn't bother, if not that to be in a place where people are sick, where the people some times you/he/she dies.
I have asked to a nurse where I/you could find Mr. Broggini Mario. Irony of the destiny, was in the room twenty-four, as in the rest home, only that this time didn't have him choice him to see the lake, had given him the first free.
The department of general medicine seemed really the antechamber of the end and relatives and friends came to find the extinct darling, that extinct still it was not. I have crossed different people with the serious and ready faces, you dress in formal suits, they seemed appearances to the takings with the tests of a funeral. Me, kick shorts and infradito, were out decidedly place, but I/you/they have made once only account of it entered.
Reached the twenty-four I have found the door it was closed and out of the room a lady that resembled to a big quail watered of perfume by old men: it waited that they opened.
«It is here for Mr. Broggini?» the quail has begun.
«Yes.» I have answered lapidary, it didn't suit me to make conversation.
«You/they are washing him/it, you/he/she is unloaded.»
I would have suggested to the quail to make himself/herself/themselves a bicchierino of his/her cazzis and that the jail cell unload him, the trucks unload him, the batteries unload him not the people. I have simply nodded.
«It is a relative?» you/he/she has taken back the gossiper.
«No.»
«A nephew?»
I would have liked to answer her:
«Linguacciuta snoops that are not other, had I/you been a nephew, would I also have been relative no?» In reality I have hissed only «I am a friend.»
While I was praying that that door they opened, the quail has gone on, indiscreet and annoying to the improbable one.
«I am the wife of the Renzo. Does the Renzo of the fruit know him/it? We had down the bench in country. Ah, me the Broggini I remember well him to me! Commanded in the bank, has been I also verify! Was a well-off gentleman and had of it of money! Yet now you look as you/he/she is tanned. It doesn't even recognize the people. Death is really true it puts again us all to the same level.»
I would have had to answer to the lady impicciona that his/her Renzo I didn't know him/it, considering that in the neolitico, when they sold fruit, I had not been born yet; and I would also have added that not even to die 200 times, my dear lady quail would be leveled with a man as Mr. Mario. I would have sustained besides that if his/her beautiful Renzo was ended in the hospital, it was certainly for resting himself/herself/themselves some from that it breaks balls, gossipy of his/her wife.
Instead drawing to full hands to the reservoir of the patience, an I have confined to «Eh already.»
Then you/he/she has opened the door.
The ricircolo of air given by everybody and four the open windows, didn't cover entirely the odor of the" load" of Mario. The famous Renzo, in a beige pigiamino that I would not even have worn under torture, he/she read a newspaper of gossip while Mr. Mario, beautiful comfort in the bed, didn't seem then I know" tanned" as you/he/she had insinuated the giant quail that, entrance, has not missed hardly to underline:
«You look at Mr. Mario, you/he/she has as to find her/it his/her nephew!» forcing me to a new unbelievable exercise of calm.
I have drawn near to the bed of Mario with the good smile for moments as that.
«Mario, but that it combines me? Does he/she anchor you/he/she has not understood that it has the hard skin?»
«Good morning! How is it going? Eheheh, will have also the hard skin but this time the floor it was harder than me. We are there by now, the Luisa is calling me.»
«Mr. Mario, doesn't leave again with his/her discourses fatalist and sees to turn up him the sleeves, that The wants to see her/it walk again for the whole corridor!»
Mario had the broken femur and the shattered basin how much a terracotta vase fallen from a balcony. The results of a façade against a Tir to simply have fallen, again. It didn't need to be orthopedic to understand that there was not any hope that could return to walk, even though to snail as it did him. Nevertheless, I hypothesized that some optimism could help him/it.
You/he/she has been at that time that Mario, as always, spiazzato has me.
«Listen to me some, now. I am old but I am not stupid at all, allow to lose him/it the false optimism.»
I have immediately understood that pits better being realists and I have turned to Mario trying to take the situation for what was.
«It is right, but thing I should tell her? What won't it walk anymore? What are its next perspectives of life already worse of those very bad that had first?»
«My next perspective of life is the death expensive my!» you/he/she has answered serene, calm, even irritatingly true.
I have asked him as you/he/she could be so peaceful and if it even was not afraid.
«I would be afrai
d to his/her place. Doesn't he/she think that you/he/she could die?» I have also confided.
Mario has looked for a second the correct words to answer, then a distant discourse has started, something that seemed didn't have anything to do with it nothing.
«I would have liked to leave you some teaching, I hope to have succeeded there. I have always thought that in the life, a person become elderly has the duty to teach something. I hope to have you wiseacre to give a contribution. I understand how much, to the times, I/you/he/she feel it unsuitable and unaware of where the world brings yourself. It is normal, after all I have never pretended that to chat with an old man resolved certain your knots. A fool suggestion however I try leave him/it, I hope you will appreciate him.
You live your inadequacy knowing that there are no perfect teachers or perfect men. Alive knowing that there are no exact rules to illuminate the road and that everything absolutely seems absurd because after all it is him/it and nobody is able to explain because is him/it. Alive knowing that however the whole life is something simple and of an immoderate beauty. Understand him/it.»
It seemed a kind of oral will.
You/he/she will have been the language some mystical or the serious tone of voice or the fact that it pronounced those words from a hospital bed, it is sure what me am excited indeed.
Mario has continued the shiny monologue.
«Even if I spent the whole whole life to ask you questions, you will never have any convincing answers. There will certainly be some moments in which you will feel yourself sure of what you are and of what you do, but they will be moments. There will be errors that you will have to complete and solutions that you will surprise you not to have known how to find before. There will be conclusions and answers and things to do and appointments, that will calm you the soul. There will be emotions, feelings, thoughts that will upset her/it to you.
For that that I think of it me, life is spent better if you/he/she is spent to seek the beauty. Also look for its sense if you want, but not to forget you of the marvelous things that you have in front of the eyes. I believe that the meaning is there already, in the things that we see and we live. He/she remembers however that to see her will want us training and concentration, and if despite I strive him/it everything it had to keep on seeming you senseless, it considers how much beautiful is that I/you/he/she am this way. Only living I have learned the meaning of the term" ephemeral." What is true today would be able not to be him/it tomorrow and your happiness of today could become your unhappiness of tomorrow, or vice versa. For me dear my, doesn't stay us that to live. Way of living holding himself/herself/itself light and appreciating the beauty of the things is already a great victory.»
Mario was almost tired when you/he/she has finished to speak and you/he/she was as if you/he/she was striven a lot for communicating those held things so of vital importance. I believe it feared that the sense of the message didn't arrive to me and was as if it hoped to find me able to speak its same language.
Not that it was to understand effortless what handed down me, says not so and in that context.
To say misses I I didn't know him/it to find correct words to reassure him/it: I have looked for her, I have tried to open me how much you/he/she had opened him, but I felt me ridiculous about pronouncing me so in depth.
Mario besides it was under morphine and you/he/she could be us that it rambled. I didn't have excuses.
The lady quail meanwhile, as if nothing pits, listened curious and Renzo, what he/she sold the fruit, enviably read the newspaper of calm gossip. A nurse passed for the corridors to ask to the ill thing they wanted to eat. To you are her of the afternoon.
I/you/they are wrapped me, Mario is excused for all parolonis and the bislacchis exposed concepts, and you/he/she has observed: «I apologize Me, but I am so tired that don't realize what I say. It didn't stuff case, rather you go that among some he/she eats.»
I have greeted him as every time pretending that there were not said then nothing of particularly personal and I have taken the door and I/you/they are gone out.
Before going out I have looked well at him: it didn't seem then indeed me so" tanned badly."
«Good-bye Mr. Mario, sees when The return!»
«Hi Andrew, thanks» you/he/she has answered confused; and the fact that called me as his/her child has not offended me, rather you/he/she has been a pleasure for me, since I knew well that those words that you/he/she had left me were turned to me.
In the parking lot of the hospital, before returning home, I felt me a person for well and I was pleased to have completed the good action to assist that old man.
In reality, from there to few I would have understood how much able had been to give me Mario in that so brief meeting.
Before climbing in car, perfectly lowered still in the part of the good samaritano, I have phoned Henry to see if you/he/she had calmed down. The telephone is rung free for some and really when I believed that he/she didn't answer anymore by now, you/he/she has answered.
«Hi» you/he/she has said.
«Hi Hemming furious! But what did you have today? The case didn't seem me to make that buffoonery with mother and dad! You have been exaggerated indeed.»
«Paul, has to also make me a scene you? If it is so tell me him, that send to pure fanculo you and I make the en plein!»
«Oh, bushels calm. I am calling you to know what has happened, if has happened something that I don't know and you want to speak.»
«Paul allows to lose. You don't see them every day, you by now you have your space and you can rub of it, but I have to sip me every whole day.»
«But everything what? Thing you have to sip you?»
«The disgust that I/you/they are as people» you/he/she has said him and I have understood to thing it referred.
«They are not even greeted, I taken as I am each in the proper business and in their clandestine escapes. They are together from almost thirty years and they don't even dare speak, to let him to clarify him. Then they come to do moral on the maximum systems, as ago dad, or to criticize values and behaviors, as ago mother. With which right? Paul I don't make her/it more, I cannot wait to find a rag of job and to go, to let them to decay in their falsehood.»
Henry was angry seriously and I was not able whether to agree with him.
For years I had kept silent on the behaviors of my parents. For years, after having discovered those that my brother had called" clandestine escapes", I had pretended of nothing. My brother was still too much small to understand, but me, despite you/he/she had been extremely difficult, I had stopped idealizing my parents and I had imposed to consider only them men, with the defects and the limits of all the men. Then me n'ero gone of house and mine had become only a visit to sometimes do, a chatter to sometimes say. Henry no, he had remained, and you/he/she had come to try the same uneasiness that I had tried me, the same sense of impatience toward that parents that with the appearances they covered that that was in effects an absent family, defeat, bleak.
Once ascertained the disgust, its reaction had been hot tempered, distant from my indifferent patience.
«But as you look for job? And the university?» I have asked by now a little convinced.
«Who rubs some university, I would not have gone to every case there, it is only a loss of time» you/he/she has beaten.
I have tried to reassure him/it, but once more you/he/she has been me clear as, insecure as I was, I was not able of to calm really anybody.
«From the, now not to worry you. I promise that I don't kill them. There are some days when I succeed even in bearing them, but today I had headache and unfortunately I have exaggerated some» you/he/she has concluded him.
I have intended to reach him/it, in the case he/she wanted to talk to quattrocchi, but you/he/she has confirmed that not us n'era need, that had calmed down and that you/he/she had been enough for him to feel me to the telephone to recover himself/herself/themselves.
; This way, my smaller brother has reassured me as I had not succeeded in doing with him, you/he/she has greeted me and you/he/she is recommended to also have a good time us for him in ours" Trip to the bachelorhood."
Closed the conversation with Henry, I/you/they have been climbed in car trying to think continuosly about the less possible, has not taken then the road for house but that that it brings to the Wine cellar.
To the seven in the evening in the Wine cellar there was never anybody to imagine himself/herself/themselves on Wednesdays.
It was not a cafe from appetizers, it was not a place from seven in the evening. To that time, the old ones that frequented" the Wine cellar" they were in their houses to eat pastina or to look at what was broadcasted on Rai Uno. Each with his/her own wife gotten used to be left every evening alone, each ready to risk him in quarrelsome games of nighttime papers consuming a white in summer or a red in winter.
I/you/they have entered and the cafe was empty, as abandoned.
Silvio ate a sandwich behind the blue curtains of the kitchen; when you/he/she has seen me, you/he/she has leaned out for asking me if I had need. I believe it hoped that I let him end the sandwich.
«No thanks Silvio, aspect.»
I have said and I have started reading out the gazette in the tavolinis.
After ten minutes, Silvio has reached with two middle beers the thorn, you/he/she has supported her on the tavolino where I read and you/he/she has made me understand, without however saying, that that turn offered him him/it him.
He/she almost never spoke. It was not a fool, and you/he/she had understood that if you want to be a good barkeeper it is worthwhile that you listen to everything and all without saying yours, without you export too much.
All we knew him/it as Silvio but the people of the cafe, because of its big massive structure and rotunda, had nicknamed him" Panda - hand." Silvio didn't know his/her nickname or, perlomeno, pretended of nothing and if it did him/it be all right.
You/he/she has leaned the middle beer on the tavolino asking me:
«Then phenomenons, when you/he/she has departed that? But do I say me, could not you make a goodbye to the normal bachelorhood as all?»
«Vabbè Silvio, at the end it is only a vacation, it is not anything of extraordinary. Simply we unite the vacations to the party for Mark. However we depart Monday» I have answered.
«But is he happy or no to marry himself/herself/themselves? Does he/she know him/it what means to have a child and a family?» you/he/she has asked again.
«He says that it is happy and I see him/it beautiful convinced. Then, to tell you that it doesn't have any doubt, that I don't sincerely know him/it. However I see him/it very definite» I have again replied.
«Celebrate well you him your friend, that hurries him to be 50 years old and to lose himself/herself/themselves each for his/her road» you/he/she has closed. Then you/he/she has not said anything, you/he/she has drunk the beer in a breath as it was water and, made a sign, you/he/she has reentered in the cafe to make himself/herself/themselves a coffee.
Toward the 19.30 Chicken, returning from the pescheria, you/he/she has noticed my car parked out of her/it" Great Wine cellar of the river" and you/he/she is stopped.
It stinked in prickly way of his/her own job and it seemed that you/he/she had perfectly removed the sorrows and the doubts of the last time.
«All fact for the camper! Give us the keys Sunday evening! We find here the morning of Monday and him to us it departs!»
«Quant'è at the end the expense?»
«1.250 for the whole week!»
«To the face of the bicarbonate of sodium!»
«Braccino looks that the campers cost. However I have seen him, for me it is a beautiful camper, then it is blue!»
«But the campers usually are not white?»
«Boh, this is blue.»
«Here I knew him/it, but that cazzo of camper you have taken?» I have insinuated picking around it up.
«At all I could choose!» you/he/she has answered serious.
I have worried.
«How, only a camper they had to rental?»
«But is not a rental! It is the cousin of mine ex colleague!»
«What it has the rental...»
«Noneeeee! Don't have a rental, however has a camper! And it lends him/it!»
«Yes, lends him/it for 1.250 European! And the documents? The insurance? Let's do have I fall her/it true?»
«But what helmet I know! We have the camper, at all we owe us to go to beat. And however if it gives him/it, it is because it is everything to place.»
«Chicken, you are not bad, is only that are so much so much ignorant person! If country houses happen you inculo!»
«From the paparinos of the cazzo, not to make me histories. And offer me a beer, thanks!»
«But don't you go home to wash you that stenches as an alga to the sun? Cazzo, stenches like a clearance corpse in a sewer!»
«But what cazzo do you say? I have just washed, to the job, I have washed asunder!»
«Yes, asunder of dung! Chicken you do really disgust!»
«Because?» you/he/she has asked indeed a little convinced to emanate bad odor.
I have not answered, I have shouted only to Silvio to bring us two beers.
«And the chips!» you/he/she has shouted Chicken.
«Yes, so we make fish and chips!» I have added, even if obviously he has not understood her.
I have spent the last days before departing without particular rushes. I/you/they are not gone out a lot; as pits a beautiful summer, I/you/they have been comfortable among the boundaries of the small apartment in lease. With the others we are mainly coordinated there for telephone. Chicken and Gianca I have met them to the Wine cellar a few evenings, David and Mark I have not seen them up to the departure again.
I have shopped taking care of to buy me what should be brought in a trip, even if packing the suitcase I have had the usual feeling that I/you was forgetting me something.
The evening before departing, as every time, I have found it hard to take sleep.
They floated I suspended the thoughts and the considerations on me that I was so insecure and childish, on Chiara that if n'era gone forever, on Susan when it fixed me beautiful and angry, on Mario" conciato"nel read of hospital, on my parents and on Henry and on as in reality I didn't know after all none of them until.
Then I have thought about the friends": each with his/her trip each different, each after all lost inside his/her facts", and to as everything, in a place as this, it never changes, but it continually changes.
Part Two