The Crossroads Read Online Free PDF Page B

that?’
    Cristiano threw the packet to his father, who caught it deftly. ‘Look, I’m in a hurry … I’ll miss the bus, I told you.’
    â€˜Hold on a minute! What’s got into you today?’ Rino lit himself a cigarette. For an instant his face was enveloped in a white cloud. ‘Last night I dreamed we were eating lasagne. I can’t remember where, but it was delicious. You know what I’m going to do? I’m going to make some myself today.’
    Why does he always talk such bullshit? Cristiano asked himself. It was as much as he could do to cook a couple of fried eggs, and he couldn’t even do that without breaking the yolk.
    â€˜I’ll make it with loads of béchamel. And sausages. If you do the shopping, I’ll make you some lasagne so delicious you’ll be forced to bow down and admit that I’m your God.’
    â€˜Yeah, like last time, when you made pasta with a sauce of clams and sand.’
    â€˜There’s nothing wrong with a bit of sand in clams.’
    Cristiano, as usual, fell into a reverie as he looked at him.
    He thought that if his father had been born in America he would definitely have been an actor. Not a pansy actor like the guy who played James Bond. No, a hard man like Bruce Willis or Mel Gibson. Someone who went to Vietnam.
    He had the face of a tough guy.
    Cristiano liked the shape of his skull and his ears, which were small and round, not like his own. The square jaw and the little black dots of his beard, the small nose, the cold stare of his eyes and the little creases that appeared around them when he laughed.
    And he liked the fact that he was not too tall, but well proportioned, like a boxer. With a lot of bulging muscles. And he liked the barbed-wire tattoo around his biceps. He wasn’t so keen on his beer-belly and that lion’s head on his shoulder which looked more like a monkey. But even the Celtic cross on his right pectoral wasn’t bad.
    Why can’t I be like him?
    They didn’t even look like father and son, except for the colour of their eyes.
    â€˜Hey! Are you listening to me?’
    Cristiano looked at his watch. It was very late. The first bus had already passed. ‘Look, I’ve got to go!’
    â€˜Okay, but first you’ve got to give a kiss to the only man you’ve ever loved.’
    Cristiano laughed and shook his head. ‘No! You’re disgusting, you stink to high heaven.’
    â€˜Hark who’s talking! The last time you took a shower you were in primary school.’ Rino shoved the cigarette into an empty beer can, grinning. ‘Come over here at once and kiss your God. Remember that without me you wouldn’t have existed, and if I hadn’t been around your mother would have had an abortion, so kiss this Latin male.’
    Cristiano puffed out his cheeks, muttered ‘Jesus Christ’ and brushed his father’s rough cheek with his lips. He was about to move away when Rino grabbed him by the wrist, used his free hand to wipe his cheek and gave a grimace of disgust. ‘Ugh! I’ve got a pansy son!’
    â€˜Fuck off!’ Cristiano started laughing and hitting him with his rucksack.
    â€˜Ooh yes … Again … Again … I like it …’ Rino sighed idiotically.
    â€˜You bastard …’ And the blows rained down on his shaven pate.
    Rino rubbed the back of his head and then suddenly turnedmenacing: ‘What the hell do you think you’re doing? Not on the head! You little fool! You hurt me! You know I’ve got a headache!’
    Cristiano was taken aback, and stammered, ‘I’m sorry … I didn’t mean to …’
    With a sudden movement Rino grabbed the gun from the bedside table, yanked Cristiano towards him, bringing him crashing down on the bed, and put the barrel to his forehead.
    â€˜Fooled you again! Always keep your guard up. You’d be dead by now,’ he whispered in his ear