Dust Devil Read Online Free PDF Page B

mother—Cassavettes, her maiden
name, one of the few things she had given him, other than life
itself. For like the butterfly that so unwittingly showed Renzo that
day what he might become and, in so doing, set him on the road he was
to take in life, Sofie Cassavettes was a creature who sucked the
nectar from the heart, lush and beautiful in the way of belladonna.
At one time, she had called herself his father’s wife, although
she had held no official claim to that title. But when Renzo’s
father had lain cold, bagged and tagged in the sterile morgue of one
of the big city’s hospitals, she had, once her initial, wild
bout of weeping and wailing had ended, proved quick enough to resume
the name that was her own and to bestow it, as well, upon her son, so
the taint of his father’s life and death would not cause
trouble for them—although trouble of what nature, she hadn’t
said. Afterward, his mother had resumed the frenzied, sluttish
lifestyle his father’s presence had only partially curtailed,
taking a job as a cocktail waitress and dumping Renzo off at all
hours at old Mrs. Fabrizio’s across the hall. Into their own
apartment had come a steady procession of men—each one “Uncle
This” or “Uncle That” to the boy, although he had
known instinctively that they were no real relatives of his. He had
heard them at night, in his mother’s room, in his mother’s
bed, grunting and groaning until she had cried out—a long,
feral shriek that had embarrassed and shamed him, so he had clutched
his pillow over his head in a futile attempt to shut out the terrible
sounds.
    A
few weeks ago, awakening from the nightmare of his father’s
death and feeling afraid, Renzo had crept from the lumpy sofa bed in
the shabby living room and sought his mother. Standing at the closed
door of her bedroom, he had called out to her, but she hadn’t
heard. At last, impelled by his fear and by the sudden, overwhelming
temptation of the forbidden, his heart pounding in his small chest,
he had slowly reached out and turned the knob so the door had eased
open a crack. His mother had sprawled naked on her bed, her dark
thighs spread wide, her head thrown back, her mouth open and gasping.
Uncle Vinnie had poised above her, a man-beast thrusting himself
inside her, a part of her. At the sight, a small, choked sob had
inadvertently escaped from Renzo’s throat.
    Afterward,
the apartment had rung so with violent shouts and slaps and Renzo’s
bawling that the neighbors had banged angrily on the walls,
threatening to call the police.
    That
was why he was being sent away.
    “ Some
relatives of your father want you to come live with them, Renzo,”
his mother had announced, smiling brightly, brittlely. “They’ve
got a house, a real house in a small, country town, and no children,
so you’ll have a bedroom of your own, all to yourself. Won’t
that be grand, Renzo? You won’t have to grow up in the big
city, breathing smog, listening to the rats and roaches at night, and
hustling and scavenging just to make ends meet. You’ll go to
a nice school, too, where you won’t have to worry anymore about
being beat up and robbed of your lunch money.... Oh, it’s such
a wonderful opportunity for you, Renzo! It’ll be great! Why,
you’ll be so happy that you’ll wish you’d always
lived there. Just you wait and see. And of course, I’ll come
down to visit you now and then, so you won’t forget me....”
    But
of course, she wouldn’t come. Somehow Renzo had known that
instinctively, just as he had known she was secretly glad and
relieved to be rid of him. He was a burden, a hindrance to the life
Sofie Cassavettes had embarked upon even before his birth, a tie she
itched to sever now that she no longer needed it to bind his father
to her.
    So
it was that today Renzo perched dejectedly upon the broken, sunken,
concrete steps of the old tenement that, despite its dereliction, was
the only home he had ever known. He wore a new suit, tie, and