Contact
Two months after returning from Iran, the young Ristori was sitting on a bench of Pertini park, renamed in Craxi1 park.
In a few days, captain Gennaro Esposito was transferred urgently to command Carabinieri station at Orgosolo, Barbagia, Sardinia, Berlüscaland. During the presentation ceremony in Vigevano, his successor, discreetly, had approached the officer acting as podestà, in the prolonged vacancy of office, and no witnesses had whispered:
«The promise by my predecessor, I keep myself in the case.»
And was so that the Ristori family could continue undisturbed to enjoy the privileges, however paided a heavy price.
It is thanks to the courage and the sense of personal dignity and honour of a few we often are able to survive in a regime.
The young Ristori had cashed its three university exams without wounding blow, as they promised him. However, while preparing the fourth, he had imposed himself to study with more calm matters saved.
That day, in the late morning, at home for pain at left arm, tired for studying, he had given himself a rest in the open air. Sitting on the bench in the sun, he had freed his arm from the straps that held it neck and hung locked chest, and left to dandle freely along the body.With very commitment to passive exercises, with the traction of the right arm, exercised by a pulley, he had avoided muscular atrophy of the nearly immobility. With patience and carthusian constancy, he had managed to achieve greater mobility of arm, initially perhaps more illusory than real, but now it was also admitted by the military doctor whose assistance was entitled as a sergeant in provisional leave due to service. Colonel doesn’t explain himself, believing an unlikely reforming of secondary nervous contacts, stimulated by assiduous work of boy.
«But do not overdo it, sergeant, before compromising performances by too fatigue. Alternate periods of rest.»
The Ristori family was not become rich, but even didn’t passed bad, at least compared to the average of Low People, and had been exempted from some of the the most humiliating obligations of caste.
The young Ristori, looking a far group of girls and little girls, maybe younger sisters, who squawked, did not complain his economic situation, modest but dignified, but feeling cut off, disabled, from consideration of girls, these and others.
In Iran had also cultivated a dream, coming into contact with the resistance, of which there was vague talk in Vigevano, where it struck twice with great courage. Then he wanted to help overthrowing the regime, putting at its service his own weapons experience acquired in Iran, although had no idea how to contact them.
But this dream was nuanced, with his arm dead. He bitterly repeated himself an Italian proverb since times of the old monarchy: not good for the king, not good for the queen. It was meaning that anyone who did not act to military service (the king) is not worth anything even for women (queen). He, which was good for the Anointed – the fucker who send others to die licking the ass of American masters – for this was no longer good for women.
While he watches no longer seeing the girls, collapsed in the black hole of regrets for what never was, Ristori had lost touch with the world around until a voice penetrated the consciousness:
«Can I?»
He turned around shutter and saw a man about thirty, pending its response. Instinctively had found him nice. There are no rational reasons for these sudden decisions between complete strangers. Perhaps for some chemistry obscure reason, as it happens in animals, much more than man in his arrogance like to believe.
«Please. Basically, I would rather good companion.»
It was not a normal admission in Blue Age, where reigned suspect for the other, especially if you showed cordial. Note how neither had mentioned the Blue Greetings.
«Giuseppe Salvini.» – the unknown man presented sitting – «I guess that you would like the company of those girls, preferably one in particular.»
«With a dead arm? I actually put a cross over. Didn’t you notice?»
«I noticed only because I knew it, sergeant Giorgio Ristori, the hero of Blue Vigevano.»
Instinctively with great imprudence, perhaps because its defences were lowered, he replied:
«In the ass to Anointed, it’s Blue. He made me a scrap at nineteen years.»
Ristori faded, realizing what he said, placing himself in the hands of a stranger, also with his family.
«No matter, Giorgio. I have no intention to denounce you. Indeed, for ease and giving you a test of confidence, I say that I would do worse. I am a representative of FLIP, the Resistance which they rumour.»
The couple looked bewildered.
«And d’you go around flaunting? You aren’t too much, I suppose.»
Salvini laughed, then answered:
«There is a safer way to contact someone in this regime of spies? If you know, get me know. Can I be a friend of a hero?»
«But certainly, especially of a mutilated hero.»
«Giorgio, I think you cry too much on yourself, if you allow a rebuke from friend. But we are taking a step back, I would not like you think we are a flock of stupids. It is at least a month and a half I am studying you, you and your family. If I decided to contact you, it is with good reason. It’s always a risk, God save, but I’m fairly sure about you. The real danger I’m running is your own imprudence of the first times, until you have learned to move with care.»
Giorgio Ristori was reflecting a moment on the words, then shook his head.
«Agreed, stupid you aren’t, because I never report you. And you run no dangers, why I don’t join you. Not because I like the regime, which I would break down. But what would you do with one like me? You have wasted your time studying me.»
«Giorgio, you talk so because you have not yet overcome the trauma, but not really think. If not, why you would train with obsession to retrieve the arm?»
«How do you know? Ah, yes, you have studied. I wanted to fight the regime with weapons, but as I can, no longer able to challenge a rifle.»
«You are an intelligent young man. You can also fight with ideas. But you can do so with a gun. It’s enough one arm.»
«And as I load it, for example?»
«I cannot answer, because I’m not expert on weapons. I risk my ass enough with contacts. But I may you talk someone who is, perhaps, more expert than you, even if you are a soldier with experience of war. If he says you cannot, I trust. If you say so, from your black hole, I don’t believe.»
Giorgio laughed to approach that he wouldn’t certainly waited.
«I am pleased to hear so. You are a nice guy when you laughing. If you did more, would have some girl behind. You keep them away with your grim and depressed air, not with the dead arm. And if you cannot fight with weapons, you can do it with your head and heart. I need help, the country needs help. Rather than wait for help, begin to give. Maybe you will find even in political work all the adrenaline you need.»
Ristori remained silent, doubtful. Basically, affair was drawing him. Perhaps the adrenaline would have been better than depression, than regrets.
«Agreed, Giuseppe. I’m going to meeting, then decide.»
«Alright, Giorgio. I will you know. Meanwhile, behave normally, without having a conspiratorial air, and water in the mouth with everyone, including your own.»
«They think like me.»
«No matter. We will see calmly. Oh, one last thing. When you have decided, even before you spoke, I understood. Your left arm made a gesture – small but unambiguous – as to give a cut to the past.»
«Really? I have not noticed.»
«I swear you on the balls of annointed. May the Lord, who had anointed him, lightnings them if I lie. And He lightnings them even if I tell the truth.»
Giorgio Ristori laughed again.
1Pertini, honest and loved Republic President, Craxi, convicted of corruption
