Decadence (english version)



  DECADENCE

  * * * * *

  PUBLISHED BY:

  Thank you for downloading this free eBook. You are welcome to share

  it with your friends. This book may be reproduced, copied and

  distributed for non-commercial purposes, provided the book remains in its complete original form, with the exception of quotes used in reviews. Your support and respect for the property of this author is appreciated. Copyright © 2013 by Rosario Volpi

  DECADENCE

  Late at night or at dawn, when dreams are shattered, there is someone who opens his eyes and he restless moves his sweaty head in the pillow. It is as if a sword hurt him by treachery and blood gets coagulating immediately, leaving a permanent scar in the mind of the man for all the days to come.

  “For a week I did not dream anymore, but every holy morning just opening my eyes I'm relive the same scene of that my last nightmare - my sister Miyabi had disappeared after one of the many fights with my father. I'm running out of the house on the street in an undershirt and panties, it was pitch dark, after a few hundred meters I stopped next to a lamppost. I had shortness of breath, I looked around in search of Miyabi, but there was none, only papers, cans and other trash. I looked down and saw my feet bare and bleeding, I started to feel pain, I raised her right foot and saw that, embedded in the sole of the foot for two or three millimetres, there was the needle of a syringe, someone had thrown it to the ground after being injected with the drug. I grabbed it and pulled out slowly, while blood flowed along the outer edge of the needle into the hand. The left foot was bleeding, I was relieved and pasted like a shard of glass still attached with a piece of etiquette, it was the shard of a bottle of beer, not surprisingly was the favourite brand by Miyabi . When I lowered my eyes, I had both feet in a pool of blood and then I passed out.“

  My mom, as opposed to Tanaka was linked to the names that she'd chosen in Italian, Miyabi was simply Anna, just as I was Andrea, and not Ryû, as my father calling me. However when she got angry with us, she let herself to go to all sorts of cursing, shouting our names in full - Miyabi Maria Tanaka ...! - Andrea Ryû Tanaka ...! - This was one of those moments when the imaginary boundaries of the two cultures present in our DNA were mixed.

  Miyabi was spending the afternoons on the stools of the Game Room, when I had discovered by chance. One day I found myself over to the other side of the road and where was the room, my attention was attracted by a chorus calling for his name, I reflected on how many girls in Rome could be called Miyabi, and I realized that it was my sister . Quickly crossed the road oblivious to the cars, I rushed in the games room making space between the swarm of kids who incited the fight and saw Miyabi beat each other with a girl his age. I grabbed her by the arm and I dragged her into the street.

  "Leave me bastard! Get off meeeeeee! "She screamed like a banshee squirming in an attempt to break free.

  "You're an asshole! You had to leave me alone! It was shortly, and that bitch would have sent to the hospital! "She repeated angrily.

  That day I promised her that I would not have said anything to Tanaka, but on the way home I fell back before the eyes the nightmare. The same nightmare that haunted me for weeks now compounded by what I had found out about my sister and the ugly local who attended.

 

  Before than I had opened my mouth that evening, Miyabi had quarreled with Mr. Tanaka, again. The fault was a call from the principal of the school, telling him of the continued absences of Miyabi. For having responded harshly to the allegations, she received a slap, but without shedding a tear, nor articulate a syllable, with arms outstretched and fists clenched at his sides, she holed up in her room without supper.

  In the moments when she was angry, before she returned in itself, and reverting to speak, she needs to take an average of two weeks, usually the first step towards reconciliation was Tanaka.

  Fifteen days later, Mr. Tanaka has taken aback even more cumbersome imagination of Miyabi, revealing that the gift for her eighteenth birthday would have been a trip to Japan. The reaction was immediate, with a cry of joy Miyabi threw himself into his arms. Tanaka stood motionless, almost amazed at all that affection. I too surprised, I realized how my sister in so doing he put aside his pride with extreme simplicity and all the resentment he felt towards him.

  "We're going to Grandma's house!" whispered affectionately Tanaka. The Japan seemed to keep the other side in our being remained unexpressed, before we get off the plane we were anxious to get there, but at the same time we were afraid of our feelings hidden and never felt, but as soon as we got off the plane, nothing seemed so alien .

  Also, Miyabi seemed more human, her face was different from the usual one, the eyes were less sad and signs of decadence of her spirit seemed to have found an opposing force. I have learned to interpret the state of decay of my sister, contemplating the depth of some folds that appeared on her cheeks, usually when she was at the limit of its stand each, covered them with so much makeup. That day instead had only put on lipstick and there was no trace of the folds. I was convinced that this positive force that it emerged in us at this time was that energy pristine and before unknown to us related with Japan. More we have breathed its air and its splashes of the sun, more this positivity enveloped us and grew us like a seedling pulling its head out of the ground and it exposed to the sun shining. However, this young plant, would soon be contaminated from the surrounding environment and would have lost its initial freshness, just as would happen to us. More time we would have spent in Japan and more that positivity would get weak until to reach the same level of infection of the other part of our being, the Italian one. Probably from now on our balance seems even more near to the breakpoint and for us, it wouldn't be enough to live in just one country, but we would have needed two, we wanted both Italy and Japan.

  We had rented a car, in fact my father before leaving had contacted a friend of his who worked in that area and in the name of friendship that lasted from the University years, he had made available the best of cars, luxurious with a driver that would take us to the destination.

  The "man", so Miyabi and I have nicknamed him, was a muscular young olive-skinned typical of the people of Kanto. Clean-shaven face, hair blacks and tiny ears, which put even more emphasis on the earring in the shape of broken sword. Just outside the shirt collar could be glimpsed a small section of a tattoo. Miyabi was to point it out, and with such fervour, as if she knew what it was, had challenged me to guess. We spent the journey staring at the rear-view mirror, attentive to any movement of the shirt, in the hope of a clearer view of the tattoo. From what I could see, I thought to a snake, but Miyabi, had thought to the image of a gecko like the one she had on the right buttock and she had shown me once secretly making me swear that I would have never said it for any reason neither to our mother nor to Tanaka.

  Now the grandmother's house was near, and Miyabi could not get over, she wanted to know what was the figure tattooed on the shoulder of the young driver.

  "Now I'll ask him!" she whispered Miyabi.

  "No! Forget it! Tanaka will kill you! " I warned.

  "I do what the fuck I want!" she taunted aloud.

  At that time our mother, who sat beside her and from the start he had been with his forehead resting on the back of the front seat to chat with Tanaka, turned, and rebuked us not to quarrel. Since then for the rest of the travel, we opened not our mouth more.

  The home our grandmother was very old though well maintained, this was all about the care of Aunt Asago, the older sister of Tanaka, who until the moment of death had been next to her grandmother suffering. The grandfather who had died young in war, when Tanaka was only ten years old. Still in a corner of the
house, there was the altar in his memory with a central photo, in which the grandfather was portrayed with his uniform and the cap of the Japanese Air Force. In a special wooden chest, finely worked, were kept personal items, among whom was the letter from the General Command Air Force which stated the family of the heroic and tragic story of his death. Tanaka, as always, was very proud of the heroism of his father and in difficult times, in which his pride was hurt, not delayed to tell that episode. For our arrival Aunt Asago had bothered to organize everything.

  Returning to the trip. Miyabi, visibly saddened for leaving Tokyo, she kept looking around without peace. If Mr. Tanaka had regained vitality just arrived in his native village, on the contrary Miyabi as we walked away from the capital, with its lights and its chaos, she seemed to die slowly.

  Zia Asago made ​​us sit before entering and we took off the shoes as tradition. My sister still wanted to sit outside and when she came in, introduced herself with the shoes.

  Asago aunt smiled, as if to justify it, but my father took on a stern expression and he punched on the table.

  "I warned you that you should take off your shoes before entering," cried Tanaka in Japanese.

  Miyabi bowed her head in silence. In doing so she revealed her irreverence towards tradition. Not taking off her shoes, had stepped once again everything that was so dear to Tanaka.

  "Take off your shoes!" Shout using the categorical imperative Japanese.

  Our futons were next to each other, Miyabi already seemed to sleep soundly, for us it was the first time without mattress and I was hoping that novelty could get rid me of nightmares, but it did not.

  It was after five o'clock, when I opened my eyes in fright, the usual nightmare, this time Miyabi was gone really. I turned on the light and her place in the futon was empty, I found a letter. I ran to wake Mr. Tanaka and my mom. After reading the message immediately alerted the police.

  I ran barefoot in the street, but there was no sign of her, you could hear only the voice of the night crickets, while a light breeze shook the leaves in the garden. Dejected I returned to the house and sat down next to my mother in tears. The letter addressed to me saying: "Dear Andrea, I am writing to say hello, my life is dark, the only lights are those that bear the insignia of the city and those of the premises, Tokyo is one step away from me and calls me, I will not return with you in Italy. It is useless to try to chase me, you'll be lost in the night, I'm like the gecko that I have tattooed on his buttock, I am a gecko like it is the driver who took us here.

  You know, I just called him, soon he will come to pick me up and he'll take me to Tokyo. Today, when you were already in the house, I began to talk to him and discovered that we have many things in common, starting with the tattoo. Have you seen? I was right! The tattoo that has on the shoulder is a gecko like mine. Now he will help me to bring out all that I could in these years, I will be myself and I'll feel free! Goodbye little brother! "

  The police arrived four hours later, and after some initial investigation, we learned that the young driver called Yukio, that morning he had not go to work and he had left in a hurry even the small apartment that he had rented. The boy, who lived in the apartment opposite, had told that he saw him in the elevator, just when the doors were closing and that surely with him was a girl, who had not seen, but heard her voice.

  Tanaka tried to call the friend who had sent the driver, but in addition to receiving an apology is not got nothing else, so he was very angry.

  My sister and the young driver had no more news, extended our stay in Japan for another two weeks and then went back to Italy without Miyabi. That was the last time I had this nightmare and I did not tell anybody.

  Years later, when I began to study Japanese art, I discovered that the term Miyabi had a meaning hard to make it in Italian. Might suggest to the charm that can create a feeling of sadness and everything that inspires life in its ephemeral ends. In fact, when I remember my sister, I always see the mysterious grace of a woman who brings the shadow of decay and death. END