All In Mid-August
Page 10
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Stephen Trombley to shop
12 August, Friday morning
Trombley had closed the conversation with the lawyer Stanzani and spoke to a customer. "I do not want to even tortellini, are fresh, freshly prepared" And so saying, warned by the sound of the bell at the entrance and attracted by the movement of habit, looked up. He could not believe his eyes. He had aged, but she recognized him immediately. "He's back!" He thought, but he continued unabashed to wrap the ham to the lady. "No, it's too hot, do not take another" He made reference to the old lady Trombley but not heeded. Even the noise around and the store had turned into muffled silence in his ears. "He has the courage to show up here," he thought. Meanwhile, all other customers served by pretending anything. The distinguished gentleman in his seventies, he left to do at the customer who had come after him. Then they were alone.
"I see that everything has remained the same, I knew your father, poor fellow."
Stephen was sweating under her apron; dripped from his forehead and under his arms and he could not say anything. "I'm retired now," the man continued, "I have an apartment here in these parts ," Trombley was purple in the face, but did not know how to react. Fortunately, the bell tinkled again. Here's another customer. "Well," said the individual "I'll take a pound of tortellini; we hope they are as good as those who sold your father." "Sure," Trombley said, "Twenty" "But they are very expensive," Trombley said nothing. The man paid and left. Stefano served customers, but his mind was elsewhere. "I lost this opportunity to tell him what I think of him, what he wants yet, damn me, I had to report him!" he thought and needed. a customer the pointed out that he had given her the restless. He had to apologize. Had clear that anger and resentment were hardly appeased. Overwhelmingly re-emerged.