Read Online The Combover by Adrián N. Bravi - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Adrián N. Bravi
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brush to give the cave a bit of a spruce up (but then I crossed these two items out), blueberry jam, dried fruit, a knifeâno, two . . . a large one for hunting and a small one for domestic useâa bottle of grappa, a pair of scissors, which are always useful, candles and a lighter (underlined twice), a rope for dragging things, I didn't know what, but there is always something to drag around in a wood . . .
At a certain point, as I was writing my list, I heard the sound of trampled leaves and moving branches. I felt anxious. I didn't recognize the sounds and didn't know what it could be. I thought perhaps a deer might be roaming the neighborhood or a brown Apennine bear might have wandered down from the Monti della Laga and ended up at Cingoli, looking for some heather or birch to nibble. Then, along with the sound of trampling came voices, an occasional giggleâin other words, a typically human dinâso I grabbed the piece of branch I had left outside the cave and took it inside. I sat there waiting, part hidden, expecting that the people who were approaching would carry on without seeing me; but no, as they were passing the cave, they saw me in a corner and jumped with fright. They stopped and looked at me without saying a word, as if they couldn't believe their eyes. They were a boy of fifteen with down over his lip and a girl of about fourteen (looking so sweet that it made you think perhaps there might be hope for the world after all) who was wearing a strange hat with a white flower in it and a pair of blue-rimmed glasses. After the fright, and realizing I was harmless, she smiled, giving a friendly wave.
"So then, what is there to look at?" I asked the boy who was staring at me as if I were a Martian.
"Are you alright?" he said (I wasn't sure whether he was asking her or me).
"You're asking me?" I asked, just to make sure.
"Yes, youâare you alright?"
"Yes, sure, I'm fine, and I'd be even better if you'd move away from the entrance."
"Ah, yes, the entrance," said the boy, moving to one side.
For a moment I thought how stupid I had been to mistake the footsteps of two such scrawny youngsters with those of a bear.
"Do you live here?" asked the girl as she peered at me with two large, green eyes.
"Yes, this is my new house," I said.
"Since when? Last time we came you weren't here."
"But now I am. This is where I sleep."
"Ah," said the girl.
"Yes, but try not to spread the wordâwhen people find out someone's in hiding, they do all they can to get him to return to civilization, you understand?"
"And why are you hiding?" she asked.
"I'm not hiding, I'm escaping, that's all."
"We often come walking around here," said the girl, changing the subject.
"It's a nice place."
"Are you from Cingoli?" asked the boy, who was still eying me.
"No, but I came to Cingoli quite a lot when I was young. I used to go to the Salesians."
"And how come your hair is all sticking forward?"
"I like it, it's the way I do it."
"Oh," said the boy.
"And," I said, "it brings me luck."
"I've got nothing to bring me luck, can I touch it?" he asked. The girl started giggling and covered her mouth ("Go on, what are you talking about," she muttered, nudging the boy).
This, for me, was a real ordeal, but I couldn't get out of it, now that they'd seen me there in the cave.
"I'll let you, but please, don't mess it up."
"I promise," he said, lifting his right hand.
The boy rested his whole hand with great care on my head and then moved it down, following the direction of the combover. Then he lowered his hand and cleaned it on his trousers. He was quite right. Not even I would have I endured that filth on my hands.
"Sorry, I'm afraid it's rather greasy, but up here in the mountains it's not so easy to wash each day."
"And aren't you worried about the wind?" he asked. "I mean, of it messing up your hair."
"You bet!" I said. "Wind is one of the things I hate the most."
"But if you've come
At a certain point, as I was writing my list, I heard the sound of trampled leaves and moving branches. I felt anxious. I didn't recognize the sounds and didn't know what it could be. I thought perhaps a deer might be roaming the neighborhood or a brown Apennine bear might have wandered down from the Monti della Laga and ended up at Cingoli, looking for some heather or birch to nibble. Then, along with the sound of trampling came voices, an occasional giggleâin other words, a typically human dinâso I grabbed the piece of branch I had left outside the cave and took it inside. I sat there waiting, part hidden, expecting that the people who were approaching would carry on without seeing me; but no, as they were passing the cave, they saw me in a corner and jumped with fright. They stopped and looked at me without saying a word, as if they couldn't believe their eyes. They were a boy of fifteen with down over his lip and a girl of about fourteen (looking so sweet that it made you think perhaps there might be hope for the world after all) who was wearing a strange hat with a white flower in it and a pair of blue-rimmed glasses. After the fright, and realizing I was harmless, she smiled, giving a friendly wave.
"So then, what is there to look at?" I asked the boy who was staring at me as if I were a Martian.
"Are you alright?" he said (I wasn't sure whether he was asking her or me).
"You're asking me?" I asked, just to make sure.
"Yes, youâare you alright?"
"Yes, sure, I'm fine, and I'd be even better if you'd move away from the entrance."
"Ah, yes, the entrance," said the boy, moving to one side.
For a moment I thought how stupid I had been to mistake the footsteps of two such scrawny youngsters with those of a bear.
"Do you live here?" asked the girl as she peered at me with two large, green eyes.
"Yes, this is my new house," I said.
"Since when? Last time we came you weren't here."
"But now I am. This is where I sleep."
"Ah," said the girl.
"Yes, but try not to spread the wordâwhen people find out someone's in hiding, they do all they can to get him to return to civilization, you understand?"
"And why are you hiding?" she asked.
"I'm not hiding, I'm escaping, that's all."
"We often come walking around here," said the girl, changing the subject.
"It's a nice place."
"Are you from Cingoli?" asked the boy, who was still eying me.
"No, but I came to Cingoli quite a lot when I was young. I used to go to the Salesians."
"And how come your hair is all sticking forward?"
"I like it, it's the way I do it."
"Oh," said the boy.
"And," I said, "it brings me luck."
"I've got nothing to bring me luck, can I touch it?" he asked. The girl started giggling and covered her mouth ("Go on, what are you talking about," she muttered, nudging the boy).
This, for me, was a real ordeal, but I couldn't get out of it, now that they'd seen me there in the cave.
"I'll let you, but please, don't mess it up."
"I promise," he said, lifting his right hand.
The boy rested his whole hand with great care on my head and then moved it down, following the direction of the combover. Then he lowered his hand and cleaned it on his trousers. He was quite right. Not even I would have I endured that filth on my hands.
"Sorry, I'm afraid it's rather greasy, but up here in the mountains it's not so easy to wash each day."
"And aren't you worried about the wind?" he asked. "I mean, of it messing up your hair."
"You bet!" I said. "Wind is one of the things I hate the most."
"But if you've come
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