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– Listen, it’s only thanks to you that we are not behind bars, but you, on the contrary, got into such shit because of us.
Pablo continued:
– Yes. Forgive us. It’s Jorge’s and my fault. We were supposed to leave with the proceeds from the cash register, but instead we decided to also open the safe.
Pablo pulled out a package from his back pocket.
– In general, we decided not to divide everything into equal parts. The total was 1,940. Jorge and I each kept 420 for ourselves; before that, we gave a hundred to Aunt Barbara’s attending physician so that they would move the line and perform the operation a couple of months earlier. They said that it would be impossible to move the queue by more than two months and that was the maximum. And this is the rest – Pablo said, placing the remaining money in front of Massimo.
Massimo put his hand to the stack of bills and pushed them into the center of the table.
– Hey-hey! What are you doing? – Jorge almost shouted.
– In short, I didn’t even suspect that you somehow helped with my aunt. So this action of yours is more valuable to me than money.
– Yes, that goes without saying. Just take yours. You’re without funds.
After much convincing from his friends, Massimo said:
– Listen, guys, I’ll take it only on one condition. I won’t be able to help you until the probationary period expires. One year will pass and you can count on me.
Massimo said the last phrase firmly, decisively and with enthusiasm.
Pablo spoke indignantly:
– Of course. Forget it. We’ll manage somehow ourselves. We’ll hold out for a year. Just take it. The main thing is, as soon as they start to run out, you let us know, and we’ll give you more. In general, whether you say it or not, we will still throw it in at the first opportunity. We don’t abandon our own people.
– Thank you, guys. I do not forget.
Jorge replied:
– And you forget it. That’s an order!
Laughter filled the kitchen.
They left the apartment and spent the whole evening until late in a bar called «A glass of red». The owner was a stocky forty-two-year-old Cuban named Murillo, with whom Massimo had a special relationship. He often visited the establishment and took a place at the bar, where he and Murillo had heart-to-heart conversations. This has been the case since early childhood. From the age of eight Massimo was a special customer at the bar. Here Murillo constantly treated him to soda or fruit cocktail. If Massimo undertook to carry out some errand, took an order home, ran to the grocery store for another package of napkins, helped collect empty bottles from tables, Murillo paid him generously for this, fed him a hamburger or a hot dog, and in addition offered him a free choice of any drink. The bar was located half a block from Massimo’s house. In the evenings and on weekends, the establishment was always full of customers, and during the day it was a quiet and peaceful place, a time when you can sit at a table with a plate of fried chicken, potatoes and a full glass of beer or Coca-Cola. But in the evening, vodka, wine, rum, whiskey, cognac and other alcohol are consumed, so actively approaching the moment of separation of the brain from the rest of the body.
By morning Massimo had slept well and a very atypical day began for him. The first thing he decided to do was tidy up the apartment. In the absence of Aunt Barbara, chaos reigned inside on a universal scale. He washed the floors, wiped dust wherever it could accumulate, collected and took out the trash, washed the dishes, washed and put some clothes in their places. It soon dawned on him that he would never do laundry by hand in the future. This decision was fueled by the amount that Jorge and Pablo gave.
Massimo went to the door of the neighboring apartment. After the first ring, Lorenzo opened the door. He had an apple in one hand and a short-barreled revolver in the other.
And yet he followed Massimo’s advice.
– Hello.
Clutching the apple, which had been bitten several times, in his teeth, Lorenzo put the revolver behind his back in his jeans, extended his hand and said, taking the apple out of his mouth:
– Salute.
Without further delay, Massimo got down to business:
– Listen, Lorenzo, I know you don’t sell anymore, but can you tell me where I can get a washing machine inexpensively?
– Just a moment.
Lorenzo went somewhere deeper into the apartment. He returned half a minute later with a piece of paper, handing it over and saying:
– Here. Call this number. Just ask Rodrigo. He is a first-rate nit, but he will help solve the issue about washing machine.
– What did he do?
– What do you mean?
– Well, you said he’s a nit.
Continuing to stand on the threshold, Lorenzo said, waving his hand:
– Forget it. Former competitor.
Manuela’s voice came from the apartment:
– Who are you talking to?
– Okay – said Lorenzo. – Sorry, I have an emergency there.
– Thank you – Massimo said goodbye, after which he heard Lorenzo’s loud voice even before he closed the door:
– How many more times to repeat!? Shut up and take off your panties!
During the day, a used washing machine was delivered to Massimo’s apartment, but in very good condition. The workers provided free services for connecting to sewerage and water supply. Rodrigo himself turned out to be not such a nit. He offered to sell Massimo the faulty washing machine for parts for ten percent of the cost of the one he brought. Massimo agreed without hesitation. In a couple of starts, he washed all the dirty laundry.
Towards evening the apartment took on a neat appearance. Massimo visited the grocery store and shopped for the week ahead.
For a week he went to the hospital every day. Every day he took Aunt Barbara strawberry peanut ice cream, which was her favorite. In the evenings, Jorge and Pablo dropped in to visit him. Following a certain ritual, they invariably, according to a set schedule, went to have fun in local latitudes. On weekends, Jorge occupied his father’s Volkswagen and they had the opportunity to get out of Little Rome to travel around other areas of the city.
On the ninth day after the trial, Massimo had his birthday. He bought a small cake at a pastry shop, which he took to visit his aunt. By seven o’clock Pablo and Jorge appeared on the threshold of the apartment. From the very beginning, fanfare thundered, after which, with congratulatory words, Pablo shook the birthday boy’s hand, pushing three $100 bills into his palm. Jorge gave a marble money box in the shape of Jesus with a lid at the bottom. Massimo later found another three hundred under the lid.
The birthday has passed. The next morning, Massimo was getting ready to go to the hospital. Aunt Barbara had an operation scheduled for nine o’clock. He was already planning to leave when someone rang the doorbell. Massimo turned the key twice and pulled the door out. Pablo stood in front of him. His T-shirt was stained with fresh blood. It was the blood of Jorge, whom he struggled to hold, keeping his hand on his neck. He dragged him three floors up the stairs and who knows how many more to the house.
In a hurry, Massimo helped drag Jorge inside and then slammed the door.
Jorge lay on the couch, wincing in pain from the open wound left by a twenty-five-caliber shot in his left shoulder.
– What happened!? – Massimo asked, feeling his heart begin to beat in his chest against his ribs.
The apartment was filled with Jorge’s loud, painful moans.
With a shaky breath, Pablo replied:
– His… his father was robbed yesterday when he was driving home from work. We… found out what kind of scum it was… We caught him and started pressing him. Who knew this SON OF A BITCH had a gun!
– Where was it?
– Three blocks from here.
Massimo looked at Jorge, who was doubled over in pain, and asked, spreading his arms:
– How did you drag him?
– This scum stole the car, which we took back. DAMN! We thought we would return it to the father!
Massimo froze for a moment. His face froze, retaining a grimace of fear. His next question sounded frighteningly wary:
– And where is it now?
Pablo’s response came without delay:
– At the entrance.
Massimo rubbed his face with his palms, but was still able to snap out of his stupor. First of all, he rushed to get bandages and alcohol. While the wound was being treated, Jorge’s moans intensified slightly. Having felt the hole on the back side, Massimo was convinced that the bullet had gone right through. He hastily sealed both holes with several layers of vapor barrier tape.
– Didn’t you see the cops? – asked Massimo.
Pablo replied, still in shock:
– No. But this bastard took someone’s car and chased us.
Massimo did not react at all to Pablo’s words until he glanced at the floor. His eyes ran along the trail of blood smeared on the floor, which was visible from the very threshold. Massimo rushed to the exit and looked out into the corridor. A few seconds of silence were followed by the sound of a door slamming shut. He went into the kitchen, took a knife out of the drawer, then went to Pablo.
– What does he look like?
Pablo was sitting on the floor, leaning his back against the sofa. For some time, with tension, he examined the blade clutched in Massimo’s hand, and then, swallowing a lump of saliva, he said:
– I’m with you. I won’t let you in there alone.
As soon as Pablo lifted himself off the floor, Massimo pressed his friend’s shoulders and said:
– He saw you. But he doesn’t know me.
It didn’t take long to persuade Pablo. He told Massimo about the thick black beard of impressive length, short hair, red and white checkered shirt and glass eye. He pulled a Makarov pistol from his belt.
Massimo said, shaking his head:
– Keep it for yourself.
Massimo walked out the door, having previously asked Pablo to lock himself from the inside. Drops of blood could be seen all over the corridor. There were no residents of the house. Someone’s footsteps were heard somewhere on the stairs. A few seconds later, the figure of a Mexican living on the floor above appeared. He went up to his room. Massimo looked at him and moved towards the stairs, pressing the blade to the inside of his forearm. As he approached the stairs, he noticed traces of blood on the steps. His feet passed the last step to the second floor. Empty. A familiar voice came from somewhere below:
– Thank you.
The sound of a door slamming was heard.
Massimo continued to descend with leisurely steps. Having descended half the stairs between floors, a stranger by name, but familiar by appearance began to climb in front of him. It was the man with the glass eye. With his other eye – his own eye – he peered at the crimson traces on the steps, following them. He looked to be about forty. Noticing a boy walking towards him, he examined Massimo for several seconds without taking his eyes off. The look was insolent and caused bad feelings inside. He held one hand close to his back and the other dangled in a natural position.
Having gotten half a meter closer to the man, Massimo turned to him:
– Do you have a cigarette?
The man with a strong movement pressed his hairy hand to Massimo’s shoulder. He pushed him away with his palm. Massimo was noticeably turned around by this push. A little more and he would have hit his back against the wall. He noticed how tightly the stranger’s hand was pressed to his upper thigh, and the handle of a pistol protruded next to him behind his jeans.
It was the right moment. Massimo unfolded the handle of the knife in his palm. The man was already seven steps above him. Comfortable height. Very comfortable. With a sweeping movement, the tip of the blade Massimo cut the Achilles tendon, immediately after which the man froze in place. Massimo took advantage of this and thrust the wide blade into the back of the thigh of the same leg. With his free hand, the stranger managed to pull out the pistol from behind his back. The man screamed at the top of his lungs, spreading his jaws as far as possible and exposing his teeth. Massimo crept up from behind, hastily pulled the pistol out of the man’s hand and covered his mouth in order to muffle his scream. He pulled the blade from the thigh and brought the blade sharply to the stranger’s neck. The blood-covered steel began to slide across the skin and burrow deep into the throat, cutting arteries. For the first few seconds, the splashes scattered around, hitting the wall and railings. A powerful crimson stream gushed out from the cut. Blood flowed down the steps.
Under the influence of reflexes, Massimo pushed away the stranger, who stubbornly refused to fall, clinging to the railing. Massimo picked him up by the leg and threw him over the railing. The stranger flew down the flight of stairs, colliding with the tiles at the end of the path, causing blood to splash several meters around.
Massimo rushed back in a hurry, but soon became stuck in place, remembering the pistol that had his fingerprints on it. He began to return and stopped a few meters before the place where the weapon lay. Someone came out into the corridor and shouted something obscene, and then added:
– Lola! Call the police!
From the stomping, it became clear that the one who shouted ran down the stairs, from where fresh screams were heard, even more hysterical.
Taking this opportunity, Massimo jumped out, picked up the pistol and ran up the steps, returning to the apartment.
Having reached the door, he wanted to knock with all his might, but he remembered his hands stained with blood. He pressed the bell button with his chin. Pablo opened the door. Massimo ran into the kitchen like a bullet, threw the knife into the sink, then ran into the bathroom. There he found a rag, soaked it generously and ran into the corridor to wash away the traces of blood left by Jorge’s wound, which led to his apartment.
It was great luck. No one appeared in the corridor during those half a minute.
Massimo returned to the apartment. Pablo locked the door and hurried to Jorge, who was trying to say something through unceasing moans.
His hands hung over the bathtub. Drops of blood flowed from the fingers to the bottom, dissolving in a weak stream of water. Massimo somehow wet his hands under the tap, from under which water flowed into the bathtub, heading towards the sewer hole. Hands were shaking. His lips and chin were trembling. He closed his eyelids and held his breath in an attempt to slow down his pulse, suppress the surge of adrenaline, calm the trembling of his limbs. From powerlessness, Massimo collapsed onto the tiles, pressing his back against the wall. The blood was still racing through the body, the heart was rushing out, and the thoughts were confused.
The phone rang in the living room. Massimo heard the bell only the sixth time. He went to the bedside table, wiped his hands on his T-shirt and picked up the phone. To someone’s question from the other end of the line, Massimo answered in a trembling voice:
– Y… yes.
He didn’t make another sound. His eyes, staring somewhere at the wall, maintained their position, and only the eyelids gradually began to twitch, falling lower and lower with every second. The corners of the mouth widened as much as possible. Massimo bared his teeth, his eyelids closed, and the telephone receiver slipped from his hand. His legs could not bear the mental burden. He knelt down, pressing his hands to his face. The eyes disappeared under the fingertips with poorly washed away traces of blood. The room was filled with loud crying, accompanied by a cry of despair.
The call was from the hospital.
2. BIRTH IN THE WORLD
The owner of the bar, Murillo, helped with the search for a doctor who has nothing against treatment without insurance and is able to maintain absolute secrecy. He properly treated and stitched up the wounds. For a month, he came every day to give an injection. These were antibiotics. For the first week, Jorge had to regularly swallow painkillers.
Massimo said goodbye to Aunt Barbara. In addition to him, Pablo, Murillo and lawyer Kurt Miller arrived at the cemetery. Jorge’s father, Sergio Gomez, arrived a little late. He expressed his deepest condolences and informed Massimo that he could turn to his family for help at any time.
Without any questions or discussions, Pablo voluntarily spent most of his savings on paying for the services of a funeral agency even before Massimo began to bother about the funeral. Among other things, he ordered a tombstone with a beautiful epitaph.
The loss turned out to be much greater than others might have thought. Massimo did not leave the apartment for more than three weeks, and when he left it, the reason was the desire to visit his aunt’s grave. Then another couple of weeks in blank walls and absolute silence. In Massimo’s mind, the family consisted of two people. He didn’t remember his parents well, but Aunt Barbara replaced them and became that same family for him. Now she is gone, and with her the whole family is gone. Massimo had barely turned eighteen when the very next day he was left alone. Discouraging feelings did not let go of him for a long time. He didn’t think for a second about the man who robbed Sergio Gomez, who also wounded Jorge. That incident was the first murder for Massimo. His hands were now covered in blood, but this did not bother his conscience at all. The mind was in the grip of completely different thoughts.
Three months have passed since Aunt Barbara passed away. Massimo rarely left the apartment, and even less often – from the house. If he left the house, then his walk was limited to a minute’s walk to the nearest supermarket, where each of his purchases was, to put it mildly, modest. Massimo’s appetite completely disappeared. Most of what he ate was brought by Pablo when he came to visit. In view of this, even going to the store was a rarity for Massimo.
