Cazzarola! by Norman Nawrocki

Author:Norman Nawrocki
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: PM Press
Published: 2013-12-15T00:00:00+00:00

LUCA ARRIVES

After shining itself out, the tired mango moon is now reduced to a quarter of its full size. It kicks back and reclines in the sky. Below, it observes the final stragglers trying to make it home from Rome’s late-night bars. Sanitation workers pile out of city trucks to clean up their mess.

Luca’s bus pulled into Rome way behind schedule. Now lost, exhausted, and hungry, he’s been walking for hours from the bus station after his gruelling journey. Someone’s leftover pizza in a garbage can beckons, so he eats it. A few hours later, he staggers into his cousin’s refugee camp. He bangs on the trailer door, yelling: “Nicu! It’s me! Open up, damn it!”

Nicu, a gun in hand, peers into the early morning blackness from a window.

“Luca?” he whispers.

“No, it’s the fucking devil, you turd!”

His cousin unlocks the door and embraces him. “You made it, man! I was worried.”

“I want to meet that old hag! The one that saw everything! Take me to her! I want to settle this now!” Luca smashes his fist on a table. Then he vomits on his cousin, blacks out, and collapses on the floor.

The next morning Nicu leads Luca to a large shack in the camp where a group of elders sit in a circle. Luca coughs, removes his baseball cap, and pokes his head through the door.

The oldest man taps his cane on his chair. Everyone stops talking. He speaks in a raspy voice as he squints at the young man.

“Are you Luca?”

Luca bows his head and nods.

“Enter.”

Luca fidgets with his cap and scans the group of elders without raising his head. They all stare at him. An old woman clears her throat.

“You were right to come. We know the story. Cinka was promised to you. She is at fault. She has not honoured the arrangement. She has dishonoured you and brought shame to your family and to our people. You must confront her. However you wish.”

The others nod.

Luca mutters “Thank you,” then leaves.

He walks quickly toward the camp exit with his cousin.

“Here.” Nicu hands him a switchblade. Luca pushes it away.

“Don’t need it. Brought my own.”

“This is the address. I drew you a map. It will take you thirty minutes by foot. These guys will go with you.” He points to two Romani teens who fall in behind them.

“Don’t need them. I need a drink.”

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