Me and You (9 page)

‘Who were they? Finotti’s grandkids?’ Grandma had lifted her head up off the pillow.

‘Who are the Finottis?’ I said.

‘Marino Finotti, the engineer from Terni . . . Didn’t they die in their swimming pool?’

‘Nooo, these are Americans, it’s got nothing to do with Terni.’

‘Are you sure?’ She was getting worked up.

‘Yes, Grandma, don’t worry.’ I began telling the story again. ‘So . . . the little robot waits for two days, the corpses floating, but Saddam doesn’t show up, so,
since it’s intelligent, it works out that they must have put him in the wrong pool. It uses its caterpillar tracks to climb up the sides and goes off in search of a new pool. The place where
they sent it, in America, Grandma, is full of swimming pools – there’s one for every house, heaps of them, millions, and so he starts going from one to another, killing anyone who goes
for a swim, in search of Saddam. Whenever it runs into another little robot he disintegrates it and then he cleans the pool. It’s a massacre. Half of California is wiped out. The army comes
in. All the soldiers attack it, shooting it with lasers, but there’s nothing they can do. In the end they call for air strikes and start dropping bombs on California. K19 is hit. One of its
caterpillar tracks gets broken and he starts swerving all over the place, but he doesn’t give up. He goes outside and starts driving down the highway followed by armed tanks that shoot at it.
K19 is a wreck. His engine is making a strange noise and he has used all his weapons. He comes to the end of the road and is facing the biggest pool he’s ever seen, with very dirty water and
waves too. The army is closing in. K19 looks at the pool; it’s so big he can’t even see where it ends. The sun is setting into it and there are huge floating mattresses on it. Nobody
has explained to him that this is the ocean and they’re not floating mattresses but ships. K19 doesn’t know what to do. He wonders how he will ever manage to clean this never-ending
swimming pool. For the first time he’s afraid. He gets to the end of the pier, turns around. The army is right there. He’s about to fight, but then he thinks again. He jumps quickly
into the ocean, and disappears.’

My mouth was dry. I picked up the bottle of water from the bedside table and poured myself a glass.

Grandma didn’t move. She’d fallen asleep.

She’d hated the story.

I got up, but Grandma whispered, ‘Then what?’

‘What do you mean, then what?’

‘How does it end?’

That was the end. It felt like a good ending to me.

And, anyway, I hated endings. In endings things always have to be, for better or for worse, fixed up. I liked telling stories of fights for no reason between aliens and earthlings, of space
journeys in search of nothing. And I liked wild animals that lived for no reason, that didn’t know they were dying. After I saw a film, it drove me crazy the way Dad and Mum always talked
about the ending, like the whole story was in the ending and nothing else mattered.

And so, in real life, is the ending the only important part? Grandma Laura’s life was worth nothing and only her death in that ugly clinic mattered? Yes, maybe the story about K19 was
missing something, but I liked the way it committed suicide in the ocean. I was about to tell her that that was the ending when, just like that, I thought up another ending.

‘This is the ending. Two years later some scientists are on a beach on a tropical island, at night, in the light of the full moon. They’re hiding behind a dune with their binoculars
and watching the shore. Suddenly the sea turtles come out of the water, they’re going to lay their eggs. The turtles climb over the sand, they dig a hole with their legs and they lay their
eggs. And K19 comes out too. He’s all covered in seaweed and mussels. He climbs slowly up the beach and uses his caterpillar tracks to dig a deep hole, covers it over and then goes back into
the sea with the turtles. The next night a whole heap of little turtles pop out of the sand. And from one of the holes lots of teeny-weeny K19s pop up, like little play tank engines, and they head
towards the shore along with all the little turtles.’ I took a deep breath. ‘That’s the end. Did you like it?’

Grandma, her eyes closed, nodded and right then the door was flung open and a nurse that looked exactly like John Lennon walked in, carrying a tray of medicine.

We stared at each other for a second, I mumbled a hello and then I ran.

9

The Silver Monkey was wandering aimlessly around the courtyard.

I was studying him from the other side of the street, hidden behind a rubbish bin. Every now and then he’d swish his broom and then he’d stop, like they’d turned off his
electricity.

Like an idiot, I hadn’t taken my mobile with me and so I couldn’t trick him like I did last time. I had spent too much time with Grandma. It was another two hours before he went off
duty, and Olivia was expecting me.

After a quarter of an hour Mr Caccia, the engineer from the fourth floor, came home. Then Nihal and the Dachshunds came out of the main door and he started chatting near the fountain with the
Silver Monkey. The two of them didn’t really get along, but the Silver Monkey had a relative who worked for a travel agency and was able to get him airline tickets at discount prices.

As I stood hidden behind the bin, my legs started to ache. I cursed myself for having forgotten the phone.

And to top it off, Giovanni the postman turned up too. Nihal’s chum. All three of them starting chatting and there was no end in sight. The poor little Dachshunds stared at them forlornly,
bursting to go for a piss.

That was it. I had to do something. If they caught me, too bad.

I moved further away and crossed the street. Then I ran up to the wall of our building. It was high, but an old bougainvillea extended unevenly up to its top.

‘C’mon, Roma then . . . What else can we do?’ I heard the Silver Monkey saying.

‘This time they’ll pay. Totti’s back. Anyway, see you . . .’ Giovanni said.

Oh God, he was coming out. I grabbed a branch and a thorn pierced my hand. I braced myself, pulled myself up the wall and with a clumsy leap landed in Mrs Barattieri’s garden. Praying
nobody would see me I crouched against the wall.

The window that opened into the Silver Monkey’s basement was ajar.

At least this was going my way.

I opened it and holding onto the frame I slid down into the half-light. I stretched out my legs looking for somewhere to land and an extreme heat engulfed my left foot. Holding in a scream I
tumbled onto the gas cooker and from there, landed on my arse on the floor. I had sunk my shoe into a saucepan of pasta and lentils, which luckily had been turned off and was cooling down.

I stood up, rubbing one of my buttocks.

The lentils were scattered all over the place, like a bomb had exploded.

And now what? If I didn’t clean everything up the Silver Monkey would see the mess and think that . . .

I smiled.

Of course, he would think that the gypsies had come into his house again.

I looked around. I had to steal something.

My gaze fell on a statue of Padre Pio which looked like a torpedo. It was covered in a sparkling powder that changed colour depending on the weather.

I picked it up and was about to leave, but then I went back and threw open the fridge.

Fruit, a bowl of boiled rice and a six-pack of beer.

I took the beers. When I came out of the doorman’s booth the Silver Monkey was still in the courtyard, talking to Nihal.

Limping, and carrying one of my shoes, I went down the stairs which led to the cellars. I turned the key in the lock and flung the door open. ‘Look . . . I’ve got
be—’

The statue of Padre Pio slipped out of my hands and shattered on the floor.

Olivia was lying on my bed with her legs open. One arm thrown over the pillow. A dribble of saliva hung off her chin.

I put my hand over my mouth.
She’s dead
.

All the wardrobes had been thrown wide open, all the drawers pulled out, all the clothes thrown about, boxes had been gutted. Beneath the bed were open bottles of medicine.

I dragged myself over to the settee without taking my eyes from my sister.

I touched my temples – they were pulsating, a humming in my ears numbed my mind and my eyes hurt.

I was so tired, never in my life had I felt this tired, every fibre in my body was tired and begged me to rest, to close my eyes.

Yes, it was best that I sleep a bit, just five minutes.

I took my other shoe off and lay down on the settee. I stayed like that, I don’t know how long for, staring at my sister and yawning.

She was a dark stain stretched out on a light blue bed. I thought about her blood, not moving in her veins. About red blood turning black, as hard as a scab, and then turning into dust.

Olivia’s fingers jerked, like dogs when they dream.

I tried to focus, but my eyes were stinging.

I must have been wrong. It was just my imagination.

Then she moved an arm.

I ran to her and began shaking her. I don’t remember what I said to her, I just remember that I picked her up off the bed, I squeezed her in my arms and I knew that I had to take her
outside and that I was strong enough to hold her in my arms, like she was an injured dog, and walk with her in my arms along via Aldrovandi, via delle Tre Madonne, viale Bruno Buozzi . . .

Olivia began speaking softly.

‘You’re alive! You’re alive!’ I stammered.

I couldn’t understand what she was saying.

I put a hand behind her neck and I put my ear up close to her month. ‘What? What did you say?’

She gurgled, ‘. . . some sleeping pills . . .’

‘How many did you take?’

‘Two pills.’

‘Are you all right?’

‘Yes.’ She couldn’t hold her head up straight. ‘Much better . . . The Countess had a stash of medicine. Good stuff . . . I’m going to sleep a bit more.’

My eyes hazed over with tears. ‘Okay.’ I smiled at her. ‘Sleep well. Sweet dreams.’

I laid her gently onto the bed and spread a blanket over her.

10

For two days my sister slept, waking up only to pee and to drink. I tidied up the cellar. I killed the mutant and I finished Soul Reaver. I started reading
Salem’s
Lot
again. I was reading about vampiric metamorphoses, haunted houses and courageous kids capable of facing up to vampires, when my gaze fell upon my sister, who was sleeping wrapped up in a
blanket. In my den she was safe, hidden away. Nobody could hurt her.

My mother rang me. ‘So, how’s it going?’

‘Everything’s fine.’

‘You never call me. If it weren’t for me calling you . . . Are you having fun?’

‘Loads.’

‘Are you sad that tomorrow you have to come back?’

‘Yes. A bit . . .’

‘What time will you head off?’

‘Early. We’ll go as soon as we get up.’

‘What are you up to today?’

‘Skiing. Do you know who I ran into in Tofana?’

‘No.’

I looked at my sister. ‘Olivia.’

A moment of silence. ‘Olivia? Olivia who? Your half-sister?’

‘Yes.’

‘How about that . . . She came by here a couple of days ago looking for some stuff. Now I get it – maybe she needed some clothes to go skiing. How is she?’

‘Good.’

‘Really? I wouldn’t have expected that. Dad said she’s not doing so well . . . Poor thing, she’s a girl with a lot of problems. I really hope she finds her way . .
.’

‘But, Mum, do you care about her?’

‘Me?’

‘Yes.’

‘Yes, I care about her but she’s not easy to deal with . . . Are you being good? Are you polite to Alessia’s mother? Are you lending a hand? Are you making your bed?’

‘Yes.’

‘Alessia’s mother seems lovely. Say hi to her from me and thank her again.’

‘Yes . . . Listen, I have to go now . . .’

‘I love you, sweetheart.’

‘Me too . . . Oh, Alessia’s mother said she’d bring me home when we get back.’

‘Wonderful. Give me a call when you get to Rome.’

‘Okay. Bye.’

‘Bye, darling.’

Olivia was sitting on the settee, her wet hair combed back, and she had on one of the Countess’s floral dresses. She rubbed her hands together. ‘So how will we
celebrate our last night?’

After all that sleep she was a lot better. Her face had softened and she said that her legs and arms didn’t hurt as much.

‘Dinner together?’ I said.

‘Dinner together. And what do you suggest?’

‘Well . . .’ I looked at what we had left in the cupboard. ‘We’ve eaten almost everything. Tuna and artichokes in oil? And wafers for dessert?’

‘Perfect.’

I got up and opened the wardrobe. ‘I’ve got a surprise . . .’ I showed her the beers.

Olivia’s eyes widened. ‘You’re a star! Where the hell did you find them?’

I smiled. ‘In the Silver Monkey’s apartment. I stole them from him when I came back from the hospital. They’re warm . . .’

‘Doesn’t matter. You’re the best,’ she said and with her Swiss Army knife she opened two, and passed one to me.

‘I don’t like beer . . .’

‘Doesn’t matter. We have to celebrate.’ She put the bottle to her mouth and in one swallow she finished off half. ‘God, beer is so good.’

I put the bottle up to my mouth too and pretended that I didn’t think it was disgusting.

We set the coffee table with a tablecloth we’d found among the Countess’s rags. We lit a candle and polished off the artichokes and two tins of tuna. And biscuits for dessert.

Afterwards, our stomachs full, we flopped onto the settee in the dark of the cellar with our feet up on the coffee table. The flame of the candle lit them up. They were
identical. Long and white, with bony toes.

Olivia lit up a Muratti. She puffed out a cloud of smoke. ‘Do you remember when we went to Capri one summer?’

The beer had loosened my tongue. ‘Not really. I just remember there were loads of steps to climb. And there was a well that lizards came out of. And big lemons.’

‘And you don’t remember when they threw you into the water?’