Date: Tue, 05 Jul 2005 08:09:13 -0400
From: SSch191950@aol.com
Subject: The Lizard, part 4, chapter 5

THE LIZARD, part 4: Inverno
by Stefan


Comments are welcome


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5
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Alessandro had his work out at one of the torture-machines in the Fitness
room in the basement of the prison and tried to ignore the bitching. Pietro
and Ivano - both sixteen and famous for their membership of a gang in
Cortona - had found a new victim. Alessandro couldn't say he was happy that
it wasn't himself, but over the months he had learnt to hide his
feelings. The problem was that the spirit of the detention centre was
false. The strongest had all the power to gather possessions and the
strongest was not labelled necessarily by muscle power, but by the
possession of the tiniest pea-brain possible. Alessandro had experienced
that the tiniest brain could conjure the biggest perversions.

Alessandro took a breather at his rowing machine and looked over to Lauro,
a seventeen year old, who shoplifted until the docs realized he suffered
from kleptomania. He had to serve his punishment nonetheless. Yet again
Pietro roaring made fun of Lauro's name. He was thinking it soooo
gay. Lauro - pigeon-chested and slender - pulled his head down between his
shoulders as he tried to ignore Pietro.

All this - the little rotten things, taking place behind the backs of the
prison wardens - disgusted Alessandro. If there was to be a quarrel, then
please make it an open quarrel, not these cowardly, little attacks aiming
below the belt that were nothing more than to raise the weak self-
confidence of the attackers. One could feel so big in making others small.

Alessandro's stomach clenched as he watched Pietro standing up in front of
Lauro and dragging him from the running machine. Nervously Alessandro
stared at the observation monitors and expected to see a guard entering the
room at any moment. But nobody came when Pietro punched Lauro's
stomach. Not hard, but hard enough for Lauro to double up. "What are you
actually doing here, you little weakling? Klep-to, klep-to!" Pietro laughed
his ass off and turned to Ivano who was giving him a thumbs up.

Alessandro bet he didn't even know how to spell kleptomaniac.

    "Bet you piss in your bed each night and cry for Mamma."

    Alessandro had had enough. He stepped off of his rowing machine and
wiped his face with the towel hanging around his neck. "Stop it, Dandoli",
he said.

    Pietro - overweight and with hanging tits standing out under his sweaty
shirt, turned slowly and looked Alessandro up and down. "Did you say
something, fag?" He held his palm behind his ear. "I heard a feeble
whisper."

    Alessandro twisted his mouth. "I said stop it. Do you need a hearing
aid?"

    "The little fag can speak!" Pietro turned to Ivano who howled with
laughter. The room emptied all of a sudden. None of the guys wanted to have
trouble. Cowards, Alessandro thought scornfully and clenched his fists,
ready for a fight. That moment the door opened and Mario entered the
room. "Trouble?" he asked sharply.

    Pietro showed his best baby-face, looking as if butter wouldn't melt in
his mouth. "Not at all, boss. We've had a nice talk. Gondi wanted to show
me the ... rowing machine."

    Mario's eyes darted through the room. He saw Lauro, still standing
stock-still and tense, rubbing his stomach. Ivano, the little ferret with
eyes too close together, was sitting nonchalantly upon a chest. He noticed
Sandro's clenched fists.

    "No trouble here, kids. We are all here to learn something", he
repeated the standard dogma of the director of the institution. But what
was it exactly that they should learn, Alessandro couldn't tell. All he was
learning here was that the strongest was right. Always. What were you
supposed to learn here other than to perfect your criminal career? Therapy?
Useless for the most. Except for Lauro maybe. Alessandro went to him and
took his shoulder. "Come, let's have a shower."

    Pietro and Ivano whistled. "Woohoo, a shower together!" Ivano jumped
down from the chest and pranced with a limp wrist through the room. By the
strap of his gym shirt Mario pulled him closer to his chest. "I said, no
trouble, Dandoli", he hissed. "Your tobacco ration is cancelled for
tomorrow."

    Ivano grumbled, but gave in without a fight. Pietro clapped his hands
and laughed at Ivano. Mario, briefly closing his eyes, said with calm
voice: "Your ration as well, Zardi." Pietro pulled a face. Then a sly grin
appeared upon his moon face as his little eyes darted agilely between
Mario, Alessandro and Lauro. It was all too clear what he was
thinking. Then he hurried to follow his buddy Ivano out.

    "Everything all right, Lauro?" Mario asked. The boy was causing him
trouble because he hardly spoke and if he didn't speak no one would be able
to help him with his therapy.

    "Sure", Lauro mumbled. His eyes, though, betrayed his
words. Nonetheless he wouldn't allow someone to touch him, either inwardly
nor physically. But Sandro obviously had found a way. Lauro stepped back as
Mario stepped forward and Alessandro's hand slid from Lauro's
shoulder. Both exchanged a look before Mario said. "You can call me any
time, Lauro. Whenever you want to talk."

    Lauro nodded absentmindedly and rushed out of the room.

    "What was the quarrel about?" Mario asked as soon as they were alone.

    "The usual things", Alessandro said in a cool voice. "I'm despised for
being a fag, Lauro's despised for being a weakling. And for his name."

    Mario sensed the hurt, although Alessandro's voice was indifferent. He
stepped to him and took Alessandro's shoulders. Automatically Alessandro
draw back and threw a nervous glance to the monitors. Mario set him free
and beckoned him to follow. Outside Mario said with a low voice "It's the
same situation that brought you to jail, Sandro. You must not be provoked
by that stuff again."

    Alessandro stood at the foot of the stairs. "So I should put up with
this shit? They don't understand any other language than to punch their
mouths. I've learnt to know them, believe me. "

    "Maybe. But that's no solution. We can't solve everything with
violence. Use your brain. You complained the power is with the
strongest. That's not true." Mario started climbing up the
stairs. "Tomorrow in our therapy group we can talk about it."

    Alessandro stood and stared. First into nothing, than at Mario's arse,
walking in front of his nose. He repressed his urge to be comforted in a
foreign bed, by a foreign man. Sometimes it was all right. But most of the
time Alessandro was glad if he could figure out his pain for himself. No
need to show weakness like Lauro.


                    *



    The circle of young men, having gathered in the discussion room, was
manageable. Mario had seen to it that only the guys attended who had
something to say to each other outside this session as well. Normally
Alessandro didn't belong with them, because he was too much of a loner. But
today, Mario wanted Alessandro to listen and, if necessary, to encourage
others.

    He crossed his legs and watched them one after the other, sitting in a
circle. He smiled.

    "There's nothing more perfect than a circle. It's without start or
end. Endless, so to say. Therefore all wise statesmen, kings and emperors
preferred this as their assembly form. The most famous is probably King
Arthur and his round table. And since we are here as equal righted humans,
everyone can speak and tell his opinion without being afraid."

    Again he watched the faces in the round. "An incident yesterday made me
change the topic for today." He gave a brief glance to Lauro who blushed
and had his head bent down to his chest. "Our topic for today will be: The
right is with the strongest."

    Alessandro moaned inwardly. What was this crap about. In the
imagination of the do gooders and therapists that the world might appear as
a doll's house, that they can paint and trim with their enthusiasm. Where
they could shove the puppets wherever they wanted them , but in reality it
didn't work that way. Mario was one of those people, believing in the good
of all humans. Alessandro didn't do that anymore.

    "I'd say, the proverb is right", he said aloud, and earned a sinister
stare from Mario.

    "And why do you think so?"

    "Because the strongest have the power. And who has all power has the
right."

    "To do anything?" Mario completed the sentence.

    "Exactly."

    Mario leaned forward. "Interesting. And who do you think is responsible
for that?"

    Alessandro shrugged.

    "It's the law's fault", a boy chimed in. "the economy, what do I know?
My father says, government is just a puppet on the strings of the
economy. In the last but one century workers worked their butts off like
slaves and nobody helped them. The rich are getting even richer, no matter
which government rules."

    "This means, the government hasn't the power but those who give us work
and bread?" Mario asked.

    "Therefore the trade unions exist", somebody said dryly.

    Mario's eyes lit up. "That's the point, Benno. What's the task for the
trade unions?"

    "To gather the workers and fight for their rights."

    "Right. So.... you here complained that the power is with the
strongest. Each of you has already had experiences with the dark side of
this institution here. Guys you are glad not to meet outside you are now
forced to live with. You say you can't hinder that they annoy you. But you
can. You just have to stay together."

    Someone suppressed a laugh.

    "Yesterday when Lauro was attacked by Pietro and Ivano you all left the
room, except Alessandro. What was the reason? You didn't want to get into
trouble. And therefore you left one of yours alone." Again Mario's
translucent, amber eyes wandered over the faces. No one could look him in
the eyes. Except Alessandro, of course.

    "What makes you think that Lauro is one of us?" one said.

    Mario raised his brows. "He isn't? You all belong to the grey mass who
hide because you want to be left alone. But that's not the meaning of this
institution. You all have more or less quite a record, starting by repeated
theft to manslaughter. It makes no sense to balance the deeds out against
one against each other and to elect those who have done the most, as
leader."

    "But that's how the world outside is working." Alessandro pierced
Mario's eyes. Both measured each other with looks. Apparently Sandro didn't
want to help him today, Mario thought sadly. Or he didn't understand the
meaning.

    "Nonsense", Mario said. "It must not work this way, do you see?"

    Alessandro thought Mario had no sense of reality. Or it had got lost
behind these walls. Besides, I would have to be their leader then, he
continued. And heaven may protect us from a violent, perverted gay as
leader.

    "Stick together and fight against those who oppress you", he heard
Mario say with a hint of fever in his voice. He would be a good agitator,
Alessandro thought. He could imagine Mario standing in front of a wide
crowd, shouting into a megaphone and calling the workers to fight against
the capitalists.

    "And how to do that without violence?" one asked.

    "You don't need violence when the other is lost for arguments."

    Alessandro shouted inwardly with laughter. This couldn't be
true. "How's that?" he said aloud. "When one is lost for arguments then
there will be peace? But, Mario! That's crap! If we are lost for arguments
and words, then the war starts. Don't you understand? It works this way all
over the world, in a village or in a metropolis, at home or in the big wide
world. You can't improve the people."

    "I can. Here and now. In our small circle the future starts. Even a
journey of 1.000 miles starts with the first step."

    "Wise words. And what do you recommend us to do now?"

    Mario leaned his forearms upon his knees. "Stick together and take
responsibility for each other. You aren't here to be hurt by your fellow
prisoners, but to learn something for yourself. During your stay here you
should use it to ponder who you are and what you want in your life. Dandoli
and Zardi can only hurt you as long as every single one of you is alone. As
soon as you are together, you are strong."

    Alessandro followed Mario's gestures. He was right of course. But
still: the world followed different rules. Mario started from false
assumptions, namely that there would be no resistance. But resistance
challenged resistance. Dandoli and Zardi and all their mindless and
mediocre buddies wouldn't give up. The problem was much deeper. It wasn't
about a show strength. From Luca he had learnt that weakness could be a
strength too and that sometimes taking a detour was the shorter way.


    *



    He stared at Elmo's body. Water pattered from the shower head upon the
body standing beneath, wriggling his arse aggravatingly. Alessandro knew
that this was only for his benefit. Lads, standing beside him under the
next shower pushed each other and giggled, waiting for Alessandro's
reaction. Would he get a hard on or not?

    Elmo whistled to himself, turned and presented his cock, that was rock
hard because Elmo had clutched the root of it. Alessandro had hardly seen a
similar, exciting length before.

    Exciting? One look into Elmo's stupid, lecherous face, and he knew that
he would never be turned on, the length could be as extraordinarily as it
wanted. Elmo rubbed his palm up and down, until the veins appeared and the
piece of flesh between his fingers went dark red like a well- hung piece of
beef.

    "What do you think about this, Gondi?" he shouted now, waving with his
cock. "Is it good enough for a suck?"

    The laughter echoed from the tiled walls. Alessandro saw that Lauro had
turned off the shower and hurried to the exit. Others followed. So much for
Mario's attempts at conversion. But he saw Benno was still standing and
watching. He had forgotten to rinse off the soap that covered his body.

    "What do I think about that?" Alessandro said calmly, turning off the
water and wiping the water from his body. "I've seen better." A malicious
grin graced his lips as he turned and walked slowly out of the shower.

    "What do you mean, you've seen better?" Elmo dropped his cock that
still stood proudly over his navel and nodded with each step he made as he
rushed past Alessandro, poking his hot meat into Alessandro's back. "I bet
you've never had such a fat cock up your arse", he hissed.

    Quick as lightning Alessandro turned and groped for Elmo's cock. He
clutched it painfully hard and tugged Elmo with it close to his chest. "You
nasty piece of a ratfink. Go and fuck one of your buddies, but leave me
alone."

    Elmo laughed high pitched in anger and fear. He stepped backward and
bumped into Benno who stood behind him with folded arms. "Go to the girls
and show off with that."

    Elmo, suddenly unsure, slid around Benno and snatched up his clothes.

    "Thanks, buddy", Alessandro said. Benno nodded.


    * * * * *



    "Amore,

    I received your collection of dried and pressed flowers. They are so
lovely. We haven't got any flowers here, just vegetables and potatoes. Mind
you, the cauliflower and the zucchini are big this year, Mario says. He
doesn't know that I gathered some of the cow's manure and fertilised the
earth with that. That's the way Fran does it. I have decorated my room with
your flowers.

    Leoni wrote me a letter. She will stay at Fiesole over the summer. I
guess, meanwhile she's got used to the baby and probably won't give him
up. Anastasia is besotted by little Matteo. I will clear it up with her
when I'm out of this damn place here. I'm sure she will be very
disappointed, but what difference will it make to her?

    How are you doing? Please tell me about the progress of your work. I
treasure the blue lizard and carry it wherever I go.

    Everything's fine here, except I suffer from emptiness and
boredom. When are you coming?

    Baci,

    Alessandro"


    Alessandro heard the closing of the iron doors. One after the other
they were shut closed and locked twice - so the nightly ritual went. At
least they were greeted with a 'good night' when it was Guiseppe, the night
guard. The heavy bunch of keys clattered from afar.

    Alessandro, lying on his stomach, folding the written letter, didn't
turn when his door was shut and locked. For a brief moment he thought he
couldn't breath anymore. He feebly answered Guiseppe's wish, then he rested
his head upon his forearms.

    It was July and the cell was sticky. He could only tilt the window
slats; in front of it there were grates. Almost eight months he'd been here
now. To be exact: seven months and thirteen days. That made it all in all
about two hundred and fifty days. That made it all in all... definitely too
many minutes. Slowly he rolled to his side and was confronted with Luca's
face on his drawing. The wide, dark eyes, so bright and soulful. The
sensitive mouth that let escape a pearly laughter if Luca wanted to. And
during their time together he often wanted to. And therefore Alessandro
would do the hell and not tell Luca what really was going on here. That
everything repeated itself. That again he was confronted with homophobic
behaviour that made him feel so helpless. Helpless and angry. He couldn't
control himself. Sometimes. He felt the same boiling hate he had felt that
night in October when he had challenged Raniero Riefoli and his gang of
stupid, drunken bastards.

    Now he was dead and Alessandro still didn't know what to think. Talking
about it with Mario and the group was useless to a certain extent because
Alessandro didn't know himself what to feel. He should be aghast about
himself. He was a murderer no matter if society called it manslaughter
resulting in death, or an accident resulting in death or self-defence. It
really didn't change the fact that a human was dead because of his
deeds. Because he had taken a stone and crashed it on a human skull. How
could he ever forget the sound?

    And yet Luca's love was there as ever. Unchangeable and steady. Neither
Franco nor Claudio, Tristano nor Rosso; not even Vito had mentioned the
incident again. They were all acting as if Alessandro was at a summer camp
and would come back as if nothing had happened. But that was just
self-deception. Alessandro knew very well that he was changing his
personality and that he would return to Luca as stranger.

    Alessandro's eyes stroked Luca's face. For Luca's birthday he had given
him a hand-made shirt, one of his first tailor's pieces. It didn't look
that bad and it fit more or less. Alessandro gave a brief snort. Last year
he had given him the precious lapis lazuli and this year... his hand
searched under his pillow and produced the deep-blue lizard. He sat it upon
his palm and watched it. The green serpentine-eyes seemed vivid and the
stone shimmered with a silky surface. He wondered how long Luca had needed
to polish it. Clutching the figure in his palm, he turned onto his back,
turned off the light and closed his eyes. It was useless to ponder about
his boyfriend. It just gave him nightmares. He'd rather think about the
incident under the shower. It was nothing new for Alessandro that the guys
were daring him. Apparently they thought for him - the fag - the daily
shower must be a nightmare to see the naked guys and never been allowed to
lay hands on them. Pah. They weren't not as half as alluring as they
thought they were. And the rest were cowards, considering Mario's words of
sticking together against the flock of bastards. Mario should know that the
hierarchy within a prison is important to survive. No matter if this was a
youth custody or an ordinary jail.

    Benno was the only one Mario's words had fallen on fertile
ground. Alessandro's lashes fluttered. Benno - the big baby with the rosy
skin and the bald head - looked like a hooligan but he wasn't as half as
threatening as he looked like. He had repeatedly dealt in drugs and his
last sentence had lead to this imprisonment.

    Alessandro's thoughts went on to Lauro, the kleptomaniac. Nobody had
heard him ever talk about his past, his family or his friends. Mario said
Lauro's lawyer had pleaded for absence of criminal liability because of a
psychological disturbance, but the psychiatric report had explained Lauro
was absolutely sane. Motives for kleptomania are different and very
controversial. Mario said they argue about the term compulsion or
addiction. And some say kleptomania is a substitution for suppressed
wishes. Considering that Lauro had stolen things he didn't need, like a
golden lighter, expensive cosmetics or a cashmere scarf, they assumed,
Lauro did it just for the sake of doing it.

    Perhaps he got a hard-on when he put something furtively into his
pockets, Alessandro thought half-grinning before he drifted off.


    * * *



    Alessandro was happy about the new clothes, Uncle Arrigo had sent, and
the parcel from Luca with the extraordinarily yummy smelling soap. It was a
rather large block that he had cut into small slices and it was smelling
deliciously of caramel and honey. Alessandro had learnt to think as a
prisoner and to value all the little things available naturally in the
world outside.


    "Carino,

    Here are some paper clippings I hope you will receive. It's about the
expedition to San Clemente, Rome. You remember the institute had sent out a
group of scientists and archaelogists to examine the cemetery to possibly
find the grave of Masaccio. Well, they weren't allowed to open all of the
graves because of the sanctity of the corpses , but they were digging every
other centimeter. Most likely there wasn't a single distinguishable bone
left from Masaccio when he was buried in wet ground and earth. But read for
yourself :-)"


    Hastily Alessandro unfolded a sheet of a newspaper that had passed the
censor.


    "... It had been the final day of the expedition when the inside of the
Santa Catherina- chapel was examined once more. By the recent renovation -
though yet five years ago - two tondi with angel's heads had been found
behind the altar that had hidden them for probably six hundred years. Both
of the frescoes couldn't be assigned to either Masaccio nor Masolino. Since
the diary of Masolino da Panicale had told us, Masacio's younger brother
Giovanni had been with them for help (and entertainment) it is considered
that it was him who drew the frescoes.

    Expedition leader Professore Vicente Befano examined the wall and
decided to have it x-rayed which showed a cavity holding a longish, let's
say parcel. Befano saved the frescoes and decided to open the wall to
discover a mummified corpse. Attached to the corpse was a leather bag with
paint-stones, a collection of brushes and crumbled paper. According to
Befano the scientists believe, that Masolino and Giovanni returned to give
Masaccio a decent grave. And what could be easier as to lay him to rest in
the chapel of his works..."

    "And may angels guide you to thee rest..." Alessandro
whispered. Wow. So the story had found an end. He looked at the small photo
that was attached. It showed the Santa Catherina-chapel and the torn wall
behind the low altar. An even smaller photo was attached of the mummified
corpse. Surely the opening in the wall had been almost airtight to preserve
Masaccio's bones and belongings. Poor lad. The article didn't say what they
would now do with his remains.

    "Isn't it exciting??" he continued Luca's letter. "Do you think
Masaccio will now receive a real grave with a tombstone and all?

    I passed the theory of my driving test yesterday. Now it's about
actually driving. I'm pretty nervous and you aren't here to help me. Thanks
again for the money you've provided for this. I would never have been able
to pay for the driving lessons. Well, now of course, everyone is waiting
for me to play the chauffeur for them ;-) I guess, next time I'll bring
Rosso with me, if that's all right with you. Rosso, by the way, has fallen
in love with Tris' ex-girlfriend Carolina. They date occasionally but still
there's nothing serious since the little crumbs are always with him. Dani
will have his first year at school and little Seppe attends the
kindergarten. It will be a relief for Rosso.

    Summer is hot and long and lonely without you. The Opificio is closed
and I'm not sure what to do. I was walking up to Fiesole to visit Anastasia
and the baby. I've taken some photos with my old camera, but I need to
develop them. Little Matteo is growing more each time I see him. Anastasia
says he's getting his first tooth. Unfortunately he doesn't look like you
(or shall I say, fortuntely for me?). Is Claudio still worrying that he is
the father? Well, he should do a paternity test then. I could bring him
some hairs of Matteo. But such a test is very expensive and I doubt Claudio
has enough money for that.

    Leoni is fine. She looks much better and has gained much weight. You
could tell she's going to be fat ;-) Well, coompared to her former skinny
being, she is. It must be Anastasia's care. Meanwhile she's much too lazy
to leave Fiesole. Either she will move with the baby to Uncle Arrigo's
family or she'll stay at the Villa with Anastasia and Fran. Her mother came
lately to see her grandchild. A pretty unpleasant person, dolled up to no
end.

    Tristano had told me on the quiet, that he has allowed Vito to have sex
with him, er, I mean, well, you know what I mean. It was the first time
after the rape. I think this means Tris is really in love. Or more than
that. His sister Isolde will return from America soon and so Tris is either
to move in with Vito or to return to his home. I'm curious what he will
decide. And when he will finally tell his parents about Vito! For the
moment they are on holiday in Jesolo to visit Franco. They asked me to go
with them, but I didn't want to be the fifth wheel on the carriage.

    Giano has quit his idea of becoming a surgeon. He can't stand to see
open torsos. Tino wants to become a children's doc and offered the idea
that they get a joint practice later. Heavens. Love birds and plans and
happiness all around.

    I have attached some watercolours I made while I strolled through the
meadows. I hope you like them.

    More with the next letter. I miss you.

    Luca."


    Tears shot into Alessandro's eyes when he saw Luca's deliberately
colourful paintings. Luca mustn't be so unhappy. Alessandro sensed the
melancholy between his cheerful sentences. It would be better if he found
someone else he could rely on; who was there for him and fulfilled his
longing to be loved and cared for. Alessandro couldn't give him what he
wanted. Not now and probably not even in the future. He couldn't quite tell
why, but he had a certain feeling, a feeling of change, struggle, mistrust
and loneliness that would never leave him, no matter if he was released
from prison or not.

-------------
to be continued