“Shut your damned cell phone, asshole.”
He blurts out a quick, “Let me call you back, okay, sorry.” And he ends the call.
“All right, just for starters, thisismy house. And then another thing…” and I yank harder on his hair.
“Ouch, ouch, you’re hurting me.”
“And another thing, and I want you to listen closely. Don’t you ever dream of calling mebuddyagain as long as you live. Do you understand me?”
He tries to nod his head but he can only produce a tiny, faint movement. I yank harder to be certain. “I didn’t hear that. Do you understand?”
“Ouch, ouch…Yes.”
“I still didn’t hear.”
“Yes,” he practically bellows in pain. He has tears in his eyes. I almost feel sorry for him. I let him go with a gentle shove. He collapses in the chair. He immediately starts massaging his scalp.
“What’s your name?”
“Alessio.”
“Okay, now put a smile on your face,” and I give him two light slaps on the face. “You can call her back now if you want, go ahead and tell her that you fought back, that you kicked me out of the gym, even that you beat me up. Tell her whatever you want, but do not forget. Never call mebuddyagain.”
Then there’s a voice from behind me.
“’Cause you really ought to know his name anyway. It’s Step.”
I turn around in surprise, even slightly readying my defense. I hadn’t expected to hear my name. I hadn’t seen any of my friends, no one who could have known my name. But instead, thereissomeone. This guy. He’s skinny, in fact, incredibly skinny. Tall, with long arms, hair cut in a pretty standard way, slightly thick eyebrows, meeting at the center above a long nose that juts out over the narrow lips of a broad mouth. Maybe it’s broader than usual because he’s smiling. Self-confident, relaxed, his hands in his pockets and a look of bemusement on his face, he’s wearing the pants of a tracksuit and a ragged worn sweatshirt, a faded red hue. Over that he’s wearing a light blue Levi’s jean jacket. I can’t place him.
“You don’t remember me, do you?” No, I don’t remember him. “Take another look at me, maybe I’ve grown.” I look again, more closely. He has a cut over his forehead, hidden by his hair, but nothing serious. He notices what I’m looking at. “It was the car crash. Come on, you even came and visited me while I was in the hospital.”
Fuck, how could I have forgotten. “Guido Balestri! It’s been a lifetime. We were in middle school together.”
“Right, and we were in high school, too, for the first two years at least. Then I quit school.”
“Did you flunk out? I just can’t remember all the details.”
“No, I went to work with my father.”
Ah, of course. Naturally! Balestri. His father is some big deal, someone who’s always in the middle of all those things, stocks and bonds or that kind of financial stuff. He was always traveling around the world.
“Well, how are you doing?”
“Fine, how about you?” I ask.
“I’m fine too. It’s great to see you again. I’ve heard all about you, Step. Here in Vigna Clara you’re basically a legend.”
“Well, I wouldn’t say that.”
I look over at Alessio. He’s filing some papers, and he pretends not to hear. He can’t stop touching his hair.
Guido laughs. “We all still talk about those epic brawls. I remember when you boxed with Il Toscano behind Villa Flaminia in the woods.”
“We were just kids…”
Guido looks a little disappointed. “I heard that you went to New York.”
“Yeah, I lived there for two years.”