TRADOTTI

Freudian projections

I have told him and as the proverb recite, man warned half saved…etc!

But he denied. He went through that kind of experience – he said - he previously smashed his face against them and he knew what that meant and many other nice stories that I eventually believed, calming that bit of  blame, or was envy?, that I felt for him.

Then for at least six months never seen him again: you know when one lives in a town too big, do you?

The other day at lunch time, sick of the left over warmed in the microwave, I decided to get down and buy myself a nice plate of  “al dente” spaghetti with fresh clams. In these cases the place is a must: Pipino Gautier! I get in and Pipino, the face of a little aged child, impeccable pinstriped suite and last fashion spectacles on the point of his nose, welcomes me and get me a table with his usual friendliness.

I look around me: same managers –  with or without accommodating personal assistant, who with the occasional commercial partner, a few snob ladies from the Northern suburbs of the town, a table of German turists and, in onwe word, no one to start a conversation with.

Pipino welcome his patronage and get them their tables: in one of his passages, stops briefly at my table and take a sip of Riesling from the glass that as usual I made filled for him.

A grin of pleasure for the wine and then with his wonderful Neapolitan accent he tells me:

- Here is quiet, guagliò! When you have finished we take a stroll and smoke a cigarette.

I nod in agreement and watch him getting away while I get again overwhelmed by the sensations that my taste buds are offering me.

Is nice the Circular Quay when is sunny, relaxed people walking up and down, the beggars, the street artists performing, couples in love, children.

We talk music, Pipino and I, art, gastronomy and sometime sport or beautiful women.

We are nearby the overseas terminal when my eyes are caught by a figure crouched on the ground, ruffled hairs, long beard, scruffy and dirty clothes and a piece of cardboard with a block capitals word, HELP, on it.

A child throw a coin and the person raise for a short moment his face to thank. A moment long enough for me to recognize in that person my friend Dante Sgranò. I instinctively move a step toward him but I immediately feel Pipino’s hand tighten up my elbow and holding me back:

- Where do you want to go? Stay here and pretend you haven’t seen him: you would embarrass him. Let’s go and I’ll tell you – he whispers confidentially my escort.

We pass by the terminal and stop at the Ocean Club for a coffee:

- What happened? How he reduced himself this way? – I ask.

- E che ne saccio*,  I don’t know, dear Guglielmo! There are rumours that was a woman -  he drops there with nonchalance.

- Nooo, don’t tell me - I falter in disbelief – perhaps that lady with whom I saw him playing the latin lover, Australian, married…that..what’s her name?...well he use to call her Velvet, yes Velvet.

- You are right, that one – Pipino confirms.

- He use to go around – he starts to tell – saying that he was still in love with his wife but that now, well, that he didn’t fancy her anymore. One day he poped in the restaurant and introduced me the lady. She was elegant in her Prince of Wales suit, the blond hairs well dressed, witty and clear eyes, a cheeky smile, high heels, nervous legs. He introduced her as a friend but obviously, after what I heard from him about her – anyway he dropped the word “friend”leaving to me the interpretation of it.

- And then what happened? – I insist.

- Look Gugliè, we all told him that he seemed too much hooked with the woman, considering he had family. He was laughing and couldn’t care less.

Things must have developed and one day he rented a flat in Lane Cove and went to  live by himself because – so he said last time I saw him – he wanted back his freedom - he ends with disbelief on his face.

- Yes, sure, freedom back when you’re forty plus and with family on your shoulder – I reply

- it is not everything – he continues – since one of his friends told me the rest of the story. The affair was going ahead and they would show freely publicly and were making projects of moving together. But the devil must have put his tail fell seriously sick and her, driven by a sense of guilty or the renewed awareness of the solidity of the feeling for her husband, she dumped dante and went back to her husband – he concludes widening his arms mimicking impotence.

- Al right, she dumped him, he gamble his family by darts and lost but c’mon reduce oneself to beg for charity, with the position he was in – I reply in disbelief.

- Yes my dear, one shouldn’t play up with feelings! Chillo faciva ‘o guappo* but he got basted! That means that he couldn’t handle all his guapparia*! He found himself alone, he was the only responsible and he must have lost the plot – he guess my friend.

- After two or three stupid things he did at work, they dumped him as well; there’s rumours that he tried to go back home but his wife refused and in conclusion, I don’t know exactly how things went but on the Anzac day evening, at Australia Square, he got drunk and made a scene including strip tease, swim in the fountain and final cry when the police arrived topick him up.

- They look him up for more than a month at Rozelle, in Psychiatry, with tremendous nervous breakdowns kept down with psychotropic drugs. Now, it has been a couple of weeks, I see him everyday there, the hat at his feet asking for some coins to the strollers – he concludes sad.

- Al right but what can we do for him – I ask feeling uncomforted when I think about Dante there, on the ground.

I’m already doing something – answers Pipino – secretly for the director of the St. Vincent de Paul comes to eat at my restaurant and we found for him a sleeping bed. You guaglio, that short hairs brunette, cheeky face, petite but well built, leave her alone for there’s already a number of people gossiping that you having an affair with her. Be careful, you too you have family – he seriously warns me.

- Lets go Pipino, otherwise I’ll be late at work – I reply casting my eyes down to hide the discomfort and increasing my walking pace in the office direction.