The Crocodile by Maurizio de Giovanni Read Free Book Online Page B

that the professor, a friend of Papa’s, will call him to offer his congratulations. Only then will he tell his father that he’s in love—it will be unequivocal that not only did his love not distract him, it actually drove him to distinguish himself, to achieve the very highest level of excellence.
    He knows his father, and he knows that his supremely rational nature can overcome prejudices and stubborn convictions; for that matter, it was his father who always told him that prejudice is merely a consecration of stupidity.
    He knows his father, and he feels certain that he’ll yield when confronted with an undeniable fact, that he won’t stand in the way of his dreams.
    His father and her. Donato can’t imagine how they could be at odds, two people who both love the same young man so wholeheartedly. He’s optimistic, and he can’t help but think that way.
    What if he were forced to make a decision tomorrow, just to imagine an unlikely situation? Donato feels a faint shiver of fear. The thought of living without her is impossible. But Papa, Papa is part of me and I’m part of him. It’d kill him if I ever turned my back on him. He always tells me that I’m his one reason for living.
    Donato suddenly stands up from the bed. That’s not the way it’ll be, he tells himself. It’ll all go well, I’ll take the exam, I’ll do exceptionally well, and the three of us will go out to dinner together. And we’ll talk about the future.
    So now, let’s get started with this last revision session.

CHAPTER 16
    Sweetheart, my darling,
     
    What’s that phrase they use in the movies? That’s a wrap!
    What a pity that I won’t be able to see you until it’s all over. I wish I could tell you in detail how things went. You would have been so proud of me. It all went according to plan, down to the tiniest detail. And even if it hadn’t, I was ready to take care of unexpected developments. I could feel my mind whirring away like a well-oiled machine. Not that I was worried I might lack the courage, for instance, or suddenly panic—none of that. Ten years is a long time to spend thinking it over every day, picturing every single aspect. If there are doubts, you’ve resolved them by the time you’re ready.
    So I got there at ten o’clock. I figured that this was the perfect time, that there would be hardly anyone passing on the street at that time of night, and everyone would be watching television or eating dinner. In the previous few days I’d noticed that the last tenant to return home at night was always the same guy: he lives in a third-floor flat, and he always arrives on foot with a canvas bag. No idea what he does. Anyway, after nine-thirty no one uses the courtyard.
    The boy always parks (or I should say “used to park,” shouldn’t I, my darling?) his scooter in the same place, right in the corner, where the little nook is located. I have to admit that this was a bit of good luck. But no matter what, I figured it out: if you take care, if you walk with your head down, shuffling your feet, if you act like you’re old and tired, then people look the other way. In other words, you become invisible. And invisible is what I’ve made myself, and that’s what I intend to remain until the end. Good, isn’t it?
    So anyway, I wriggled into my little nook. It stank of piss and that was actually convenient too. If by some unlikely chance I was seen, I’d have pretended I was taking a leak. But no one saw me.
    I stood there, waiting. It takes as long as it takes, haven’t I always told you that?
    Without haste, I screwed the tube onto the barrel of the gun. Everything fit nicely into my counterfeit bag, even my packet of tissues. This eye is always weepy, but you know, I’ve grown used to it. The lady doctor back home told me, the last time I went in for a checkup, that it’s a chronic condition by now and there’s nothing that she can do. And anyway, what does it matter? I felt like laughing in her face on my