Rage (5 page)

The foreman felt his pockets with a degree of apprehension, but failed to find what he was looking for,
so Ricciardi had to turn around to proffer him the other
back pocket. The foreman repeated the operation
without finding any matches.

"See that? You're just doing it because you want me
to put my hand down your trousers, aren't you?" he
announced to everyone.

Ricciardi cracked a smile through clenched teeth
and planted himself in front of the foreman so that he
could try his luck with the front pockets. At the final
try, the foreman tapped on a box.

"Here they are," he said.

But before inserting his hand inside Ricciardi's
pocket, he scrutinized him carefully. The two men
stared at one another in silence for at least an endless
split second, bearing in mind that this was a delicate
body zone to investigate by hand. Afterwards - long
afterwards, it seemed - the foreman carefully introduced his hand into Ricciardi's pocket and with the tips of his fingers extracted a box of condoms, which
he then hastily and immediately attempted to shove
back inside.

"What the fuck is this, Ricciardi? Do you or don't you
have a light?"

Ricciardi made a peculiar gesture, a gesture that might
have been a shrug of the shoulders, had it not been for
the sack that was weighing them down. The foreman
told him to move on and Ricciardi immediately set off,
his back bowed ever lower as he wove an increasingly
erratic path. The foreman once more found himself
alone with Maria.

"Some gentlemen came to see me. They say you're
going about causing trouble in the neighbourhood..."
he told him.

Maria stared at him in silence.

The foreman continued:

"They mentioned that you called one of them an
idiot and you punched the other one in the nose. Is all
this true, Maria?"

"Yes," replied Maria calmly.

"And you can confirm it just like that?"

"How would you like me to confirm it, then?"

"I don't know. Tell me in your own words."

"Yes, I'm telling you, yes. One of them is an idiot and
I hit the other one."

"So why did you provoke them?"

"Me? I didn't provoke anyone. They came looking for
me."

"It seems they found you," remarked the foreman,
with heavy irony.

"Yes."

The foreman gazed at him, chewing on his unlit
cigarette.

"Quit fucking about, Maria. Are you going to tell me
that I also came looking for you? Because you know I've
never come looking for you, but the other day I almost
hit you... you, you piece of shit. So don't come talking
nonsense to me. "

"What did you call me?"

"What did I call you when?"

"What did you call me just now?"

"When?"

"Just now."

"What did I say?"

"That's what I'm asking you. Why don't you repeat
what you said?"

"And what was it I said to you?"

"Say it again, you."

"Don't address me as `you' like that. I'm `sir' to you.
Tell me what it was I called you, and address me respectfully. Are we clear?"

"Didn't you call me `a piece of shit'?"

"Can't remember. Perhaps I did. I can't recall it now,
but I could have done so, and quite right too. Who the
fuck do you thinkyou are, to go around insulting people?
Where the fuck do you think you were born? What on
earth do you think it does for me, the foreman on this
site, when the neighbours start turning up to inform
me that you're running around causing a scandal in the
district? And d'you want me to tell you another thing?
Yes, I called you a piece of shit. Why not? Do you have a
problem with that?"

"No..."

"Ah, so no problem there?"

"No."

"Why, you a faggot?"

"Yes."

"Look at you."

"Why, you want to fuck me, you?"

"I told you not to keep calling me `you'. On top of
which, you got here late this morning, it's already ten
past eight. You're sacked. For causing a disturbance in
the neighbourhood, for turning up late, for addressing
me as `you' instead of `sir', and for being a faggot. Take
your things and get the fuck out of here."

Maria picked up his belongings and left.

3

That day he came around to the house a half-hour later
than usual. Rosa brought him into the kitchen: the
escalopes were ready, fresh from the stove. There was also
a dish containing a mountain of fried potatoes piled on
a paper serviette, and a bottle of white wine. Maria hung
his bag on the back of a chair and sat down at table.

"I cooked them in the oven this time," Rosa said as
she put an escalope on his plate. "It's the first time
I've done them this way. For myself at least: the Senora
always requires me to make them like that for her. But
for myself, I've never done them this way before. Let's
see how you like them! How did it go at work today?"

"Fine," answered Maria.

He cut off a slice of escalope and lifted it to his lips
on a fork.

"It's good," he commented, chewing. "Why don't you
put on the TV?"

"Oh, right - I'd totally forgotten! What's the time? On
Chiche Gelblung's programme at seven o'clock they're
going to have that little dwarf, he's only eighteen inches
high. Do you remember what I'm talking about?"

"No."

Rose had switched on the television and was flicking
through the channels on the remote control, searching
for Channel 9.

"I saw him the other day on Hola Susana, and apparently they're going to invite him back on again today. I
don't want to miss it. He's no more than eighteen inches
tall, something so... Ah, here we are. Well, maybe not,
this is Chiche... perhaps he'll explain what's coming
up.,,

Rosa sat down facing Maria and ate the first half of
her escalope in silence, without taking her eyes off the
screen. Chiche Gelblung was practically rubbing his
hands with glee and begging all those watching the
screen not to look away, since any minute they would
be able to see the smallest man in the world. Next came
the commercial break. Rosa served Maria with fried
potatoes, and then herself.

"Poor little thing," she said, "you should have seen
him. He barely even came up to Susana's knees... Is
anything up with you?"

"No. Why?"

"You're very quiet..."

"I've only just got here."

"I know you've only just arrived, but you could still say
something, couldn't you?"

"I'm fine."

Maria poured himself a glass of wine and downed it in
one. Then he refilled his glass and, as an afterthought,
poured Rosa a glass too. He was dying of thirst. As he
drank the second glass and set about serving himself a
third, he realized that two days must have gone by since
he'd had a drop of liquid to drink.

"Do you have any soda?" he asked.

Rosa said she did, rose from her chair, and went to the
fridge. She took out a bottle of soda and put it on the
table. Maria knocked back two glasses filled to the brim,
the first one mixed with wine.

"What a thirst you have!" said Rosa.

"Did you see that? It must be the dust I swallow every
day at work... On top of which I've only just noticed that
it must be two days since I drank anything."

"Anything?"

"The same thing would happen when I was a boy. I
could go for two, three or four days without having a drink
and then, all of a sudden, I'd have to catch up. I'd drink
anything, including orange juice I squeezed myself. I'd
crush the oranges in my hand... crush them to a pulp...
or I'd pierce a hole in one and suck out the juice... Lots of
kids did that back in my village... There was only one little
shop and that was ages away, and in any case no one had
so much as a peso. We would pretend we were drinking
soda pop! Ah well, why don't you say something?"

"Where was it you were born?"

"In Gobernador Castro."

"I don't know it..."

"Why would you expect to? It's a shit hole, and it's
down near Ramallo. Does that name mean anything to
you?"

"No..."

"Ramallo's another shitty dump. I don't really know
how to describe where it is... It's about sixty miles from
Rosario, a bit more towards San Pedro. If you know San
Pedro and from there..."

"What, on the other side of Rosario?"

"No, before Rosario. On this side, and before you
even get to Ramallo, maybe thirty miles before. Heading
towards Rosario, about thirty miles down the road from here. Gobernador Castro is around a hundred and ten
miles away."

"Ah..." murmured Rosa, attempting to decipher the
mass of information.

"Yes," confirmed Maria.

"I thought you were born in Capilla..."

"Nope. I moved there when I was quite young, but no.
I was born in Castro. Mother of God, how my hand is
hurting..."

"What happened, did you bang it?"

"Yes, I sprained it."

"You banged it or you sprained it?"

"I banged it."

"And so how did you sprain it?"

"I dunno. Must have banged it lifting something. At
the moment I can't rightly remember, but right now it's
hurting all over."

"Here, help yourself to another escalope. Would you
like me to slice it for you?"

"No, leave it. I'll do it myself."

"I feel embarrassed to tell you, but... last night I
dreamed about you. You were riding on a white horse,
with a sword in your hand..."

"You were dreaming about St Martin..."

"No, seriously. You were riding naked."

"Bareskin?"

"Yes, bare to the balls..."

"Bareskin, I'm telling you, and mounted bareback."

"Oh, all right, I'm sorry! Look what you're making
me say..." she blushed. "You were riding this horse
stark naked, sword in hand. And the sword and your...
well... prick, and the horse's neck, everything was full of
nerves and veins... I swear I woke up at that point..."

"Have you always had erotic dreams?"

"No. The night before last I dreamed I went windowshopping. I went crazy looking in those shop windows,
and I went into a boutique and bought a heap of clothes
and then I went to a hairdresser and had highlights put
in my hair."

There was a silence while Rosa gazed at him.

"Are you certain nothing has happened?"

Maria shook his head and Rosa didn't persist. They
had maintained their conversation while keeping an eye
on the Chiche Gelblung programme, to spot whether
the dwarf put in an appearance. But the presenter had
moved on to another category of deformities by now,
one in which there was no chance that dwarfs might
be included, even though the dwarf was still being
trailed at every commercial break. Before the final
section, when he was due to sign off, Gelblung started
to apologize for the fact that his time had run out, and
to promise a special programme the next day, entirely
dedicated to the smallest man in the world. But Rosa
became annoyed and switched off the television before
Gelblung finished making his promises, and went to sit
on Maria's lap. She threw her arms around his neck.

"Do you know what I like best of all about you?" she
asked him.

Maria shook his head.

"You seem such a mystery. So quiet... It's as though
you're always keeping something back..."

She moved to kiss him on the lips. But less than an
inch before touching him, she paused, stopping in midair as if frozen, her pupils open wide, and her eyes fixed
on the street outside.

"What's up?" asked Maria.

Rosa shut him up with a rapid "shshsh".

She jumped down from his lap and ran to the window.

"Oh my God!"

"What's up?"

"It's the Senor and Senora! They're opening the
door! Mother of God! Now what do I do? If they catch
you here they'll flay me alive!"

Maria went over to look out of the window. Rosa was
right: a man was stooped over the door lock, trying to
insert a key. Beside him stood a woman. The woman
was just about to ring the bell.

"Listen to me and calm down, I know what we need
to do. Rosa, listen, and stay still a moment... breathe
deeply... I'll hide myself away here, behind the dresser.
You open up to them, they'll come inside, and I'll
take the keys and leave, then push them back to you
through the grille by the garden gate. It's easy. Breathe
deeply, you need to be able to pretend with conviction.
If they notice you're nervous, they'll take you and shake
everything out of you, down to the dream you've just
told me. Breathe. That's it... Well done... Now I'll go
and hide and you go and open the door..."

"What about the dishes?" hissed Rosa.

"I'll sort that out; you open up. Do they usually come
into the kitchen first thing when they arrive?"

"They never arrive at the tradesmen's entrance. I
can't think what could have happened!"

"They must have lost the keys to the front door."

"Possibly... Oh my God, they were supposed to come
back next week!..."

"Do you see? That tornado you were talking about
must have struck..."

The bell went on ringing, ever more insistently. Maria
pushed Rosa towards the door. Then he grabbed his
plate and shoved it into the dishwasher, and hid himself
behind the dresser.

Rosa reappeared with Senor and Senora Blinder,
carrying their suitcases. The Senora asked why she'd
taken so long to answer the door. Rosa explained that
she'd been upstairs in her bedroom tidying up. Senor
Blinder pushed open the kitchen door and lost himself
in the depths of the house, silent and ill-tempered.

4

One of the first things to catch his attention was the
sharpness with which the street sounds penetrated the
house; at certain hours of the night you could even hear
the scratch of a dog's toenails on the pavement. As he set
about exploring the interior of the house, he recalled his
surprise at discovering how small its interior really was,
compared with how it looked from outside. It seemed
the more so because there weren't that many pieces of
furniture or ornaments, and because from the outside
you could take the whole thing in at a glance, something
impossible to achieve when you were indoors.