Pezzi di me pt.10042

Here we are, compañeros, the time has come.
I’ve thought long and hard about whether to write this Laugh Tale or not.
But an anthem to redemption and to life cannot be stopped.
Where do I begin? 

My dear old hood (la zona).
As usual, we’d hang out in ‘piazza nuova’ with our playmates. A slab of concrete, two rubber bases of basketball hoops never installed used as goals, running, decay, love, and lots of imagination.
On the side of the square, sitting on benches, the group of the top dogs of the hood going back and forth from the kiosk, trading things with the speed of a croupier. Skilled hands shuffling cards, and baggies.
And eyes watching everything, including us kids. They taught us so much.
Even what not to want.

Then came 2006, “the last Great Raid,” as they call it. As if it were the Ultimo Impero.
“New” faces appeared, but old ones had vanished. Still, it was always people from the hood.

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“and I took that personally”
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But just because we don’t have “money” does that mean I can’t go to a restaurant with my friends? Or on a trip with my —hypothetical— girlfriend? … And give a gift to mom and dad? Can’t I treat the ones I love to lunch??? Damn, I’m 16 already, I’ve been working with dad for over two years, I’m grown now!! With 50 (fifty) euros more, do you know how many things I could do 🤤 🤤 🤤

Eh… so how do I do it? … How did the top dogs make money? …

Stealing is beyond me, and beyond what dad taught me. And it’s thanks to him that I have a couple of coins: working at the pizzeria (the good old pizze) he’s teaching me life through two trades, and by going 5 days a week I manage to make those 50 euros I crave 🤤 🤤 🤤
But they’re starting not to be enough anymore… More or less, my “allowance” – damn Rich Kids – from working with dad is about 160 euros a month. And I like to go out at night, hang out with my friends, my brother, my sister… it’s fun to go out eheheh. Especially if I get off work at 10:30-11pm! Who cares if I have school the next day, c’mon I deserve it! I go to work, I do well in school, I don’t fail any subjects, yeah I do it my way, I’m never in class but at least I get a pass in everything, that’s what matters, right? Teacher and mom, GO HOOOME 🎉🎉🎉

Yeah but… At 16 no one hires you. And anyway, what a drag, I’m already working. And going to school.
My time in the hospital taught me the value of time. I don’t want to waste it. … The time in the hospital ahahahah feels so far away, yet it was just four months ago, what a trip the brain is.

How did the top dogs make money fast?

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“Oh Ste… Guess who I was just on the phone with…? The cops”
“C’mon Chri, what the fuck are you saying”
“I swear, they just called me! Told me to show up at the station because they need to ask me some things… but they told me not to worry, actually… they asked about you right after”
“What do you mean about me”
“How did it go with the Carabinieri? Are you okay? What did they ask you? Did dad drop by?”
“But I’m at university, how can I come, you know I do 8-6, it’s already my second year! Even if I leave on lunch break, I don’t even have time to eat, it takes me over an hour by public transport to get back to the hood!”
“They told me to call the number they rang me from, if there are problems…”

…….

Crazy…
They held me for over an hour… in the end it was the interrogation I expected, the one I’d been taught to handle… I already knew it when I tried to call back to reschedule the “appointment,” they’d been way too polite, appointment my ass…
It’s almost 5pm, I’d say it’s time for lunch, now that I can… Luckily I’ve got the pizza I couldn’t eat last night.

“Oh Chri, they held you 10 minutes, you’re done already!!”
“Yeah, they asked me a couple things, just some questions and a little more. Did you think I had much to say?
But you, eating pizza in the station? And you, dad, don’t you say anything??”
“ahahahah I was hungry what do you want me to say. Anyway I’ll swing by home, see you later at pizze!”

Crazy…
I haven’t dealt with Stegiallo (made-up name) for 6 months now, yet after they raided his place they wanted me…
Thinking back still hurts my heart, I cared for him regardless of our “business,” I saw him like an older brother with his 4 years on me, just like my blood brother. Maybe that’s why I was the one he unloaded a series of struggles on, unconsciously conscious that I could understand, deep in my heart, his outbursts and his rage. It was right for each of us to take our own path… (years later we met again, it was beautiful, like when we were kids).

Now I’ve just finished the interrogation, let all these emotions, sensations, thoughts sink down… Think about what you saved, not what you lost.

There’s a reason you quit, isn’t there?
Of course, not for the money. Do you remember how much you made? 1kg of THAT WIZZY 🤤 we’d buy, when things went bad, at 6.2 and sell when things went bad, at 8. 1,800 euros in how many minutes? 10 minutes including a smoke? … Besides, I didn’t even want to deal under the kilo anymore. I had my faithful buyers, and then … come on … for a hundred grams? Really?? Barely 300/400 euros??? With all the risks I’d have to take, are you nuts?
It’s true I’d almost zeroed out the risks. The stash wasn’t mine but I had the keys, the meeting point right there next door, the weed cost me the same as a whale, not even a scale in my house, not even cling film. All perfect by luck and chance, a kiss from Lady Fortune. And what, you’d give it up? Yeah, I guess…
But hey… From this point of view I can only be thankful. Uni and books didn’t pay for themselves, nor bus tickets, clothes, the phone, let alone the air I breathed. And the experiences I had with Manu? Who would stay with someone for so many years if the longest trip they could take was to Moncalieri. Bah… our love is teaching me something else, but still, I managed to pay for my life.
And then… it was all so easy. Everyone was doing something in the hood, it was way too easy. Everyone knew everything, cops included. And everyone did something, cops included. How many times did they see us on the benches, at the “smoking-men” (you know that white painted pedestrian sign? Well, next to piazza nuova they added a joint in his mouth, to mark the smoking area). Whether talent or curse, I’ve always known people who needed, and people who had. At that point I’d buy for everyone and divide, we all paid less, and maybe I kept something.
In the end, to avoid trouble, you just had to split the goods and cash with the cops, right? At least, that’s how my eyes drank it.
At least in the beginning, that’s how it is, until you gain awareness. Awareness that you can’t make all that money in such a short time, that in just 10 minutes, without effort, you can’t earn more than a month of work at the pizzeria.
Awareness of what you have, but above all, of what you can lose. Awareness of reality, that just because something is normal in the hood, it doesn’t mean it is in a balanced, constructive, conscious life. Awareness that only willpower, effort, calm, consistency, and patience are the currency needed to get all the gifts we deserve, including financial energy.

There’s a reason you quit…
She’s the first, the absolute. You love her more than any amount of “money.” She’s the most valuable thing you have. If they catch you, you lose her. Is that what you want?
And then, you’ve got yourself to protect. You like university, you like healthcare. You’ve got your ideas and your will, helping others is what drives you most. If they catch you, how can you work with a record. Plus, you feel this fire inside pushing you, do you really want to burn it out in this way?
For the first time in your life, you’ve got something to lose. Are you really willing to lose Her for a couple of coins? Or to play the neighborhood tough guy, are you nuts?

There’s a reason you quit.
You’ve done plenty, c’mon, we can stop here ahahahah
Do you remember when with Gocciole (made-up name) we’d go to the ex-Moi to grab “the rotten ounce” from Clifford, the huge stuttering black guy? “Two-Two-Two point eighty-five, two pooint eighty-five” was the price. Why exactly 2.85… those 0.05 always freaked me out. But anyway, we’d resell it at 6 and all we had to do was sneak out while class was still rolling (the riskiest part ‘cause I was supposed to be in class), cross the street, smoke a zars Clifford left as a treat while he went to fetch the ounce, cross back and meet the guy in the school bathroom to drop it off. Easy.
And the hood stories? Do you remember them? The one who left his 6-year-old kid as collateral with creditors? And that boy who started selling rocks at 12 in place of his dad in jail, do you remember how he changed in just a year? Oh, and the first time you saw a gun pulled? And the first time they pulled it on you? He was a fugitive, who would’ve found you? And the people who disappeared?
Eeeeh, what stories… Blessed youth…
But with Fresh we told each other years ago we’d get out of this shit.

There’s a reason I quit!
Look at how much luck you’ve had! You had the examples, the teachings, the right encounters and the opportunities to bloom. Nothing grows from diamonds, remember? Take home what the street taught you, but let go of what school taught you not to want. Knowledge makes you free, mom’s been saying it forever.

There’s the reason…
She’s what I desire most, she makes me be my whole self even when I’m empty. If I keep going, I lose her.
On the scales of life, can money and love really be weighed on the same plates?

“Ste, is that you?”
“Yes mom, I just swung by home for a quick shower before work”
“How did it go with the Carabinieri? Are you okay? What did they ask you? Did dad drop by?”

“Don’t worry mom it’s all fine they weren’t looking for me, they asked about Stegiallo. Sorry but I need a quick shower, I’ll tell you everything later🫂"