Английский язык с Крестным Отцом
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attended him at all times.
The morning sun was now too strong. Michael stubbed out his cigarette and put on
work pants, work shirt and the peaked cap most Sicilian men wore. Still barefooted, he
leaned out his bedroom window and saw Fabrizzio sitting in one of the garden chairs.
Fabrizzio was lazily combing his thick dark hair, his lupara was carelessly thrown across
the garden table. Michael whistled and Fabrizzio looked up to his window.
"Get the car," Michael called down to him. "I'll be leaving in five minutes. Where's
Calo?"
Fabrizzio stood up. His shirt was open, exposing the blue and red lines of the tattoo
on his chest. "Calo is having a cup of coffee in the kitchen," Fabrizzio said. "Is your wife
coming with you?"
Michael squinted (to squint –
him. It occurred to him that Fabrizzio had been following Apollonia too much with his
eyes the last few weeks. Not that he would dare ever to make an advance toward the
wife of a friend of the Don's. In Sicily there was no surer road to death. Michael said
coldly, "No, she's going home to her family first, she'll join us in a few days." He
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watched Fabrizzio hurry into the stone hut that served as a garage for the Alfa Romeo.
Michael went down the hall to wash. Apollonia was gone. She was most likely in the
kitchen preparing his breakfast with her own hands to wash out the guilt she felt
because she wanted to see her family one more time before going so far away to the
other end of Sicily. Don Tommasino would arrange transportation for her to where
Michael would be.
Down in the kitchen the old woman Filomena brought him his coffee and shyly bid him
a good-bye. "I'll remember you to my father," Michael said and she nodded.
Calo came into the kitchen and said to Michael, "The car's outside, shall I get your
bag?"
"No, I'll get it," Michael said. "Where's Apolla?"
Calo's face broke into an amused grin. "She's sitting in the driver's seat of the car,
dying to step on the gas. She'll be a real American woman before she gets to America."
It was unheard of for one of the peasant women in Sicily to attempt driving a car. But
Michael sometimes let Apollonia guide the Alfa Romeo around the inside of the villa
walls, always beside her however because she sometimes stepped on the gas when
she meant to step on the brake.
Michael said to Calo, "Get Fabrizzio and wait for me in the car." He went out of the
kitchen and ran up the stairs to the bedroom. His bag was already packed. Before
picking it up he looked out the window and saw the car parked in front of the portico
steps rather than the kitchen entrance. Apollonia was sitting in the car, her hands on the
wheel like a child playing. Calo was just putting the lunch basket in the rear seat. And
then Michael was annoyed to see Fabrizzio disappearing through the gates of the villa
on some errand outside. What the hell was he doing? He saw Fabrizzio take a look over
his shoulder, a look that was somehow furtive. He'd have to straighten that damn
shepherd out. Michael went down the stairs and decided to go through the kitchen to
see Filomena again and give her a final farewell. He asked the old woman, "Is Dr. Taza
still sleeping?"
Filomena's wrinkled face was sly. "Old roosters (петух) can't greet the sun. The doctor
went to Palermo last night."
Michael laughed. He went out the kitchen entrance and the smell of lemon blossoms
penetrated even his sinus-filled nose. He saw Apollonia wave to him from the car just
ten paces up the villa's driveway and then he realized she was motioning him to stay
where he was, that she meant to drive the car to where he stood. Calo stood grinning
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beside the car, his lupara dangling in his hand. But there was still no sign of Fabrizzio.
At that moment, without any conscious reasoning process, everything came together in
his mind, and Michael shouted to the girl, "No! No!" But his shout was drowned in the
roar of the tremendous explosion as Apollonia switched on the ignition (зажигание).
The kitchen door shattered into fragments and Michael was hurled along the wall of the
villa for a good ten feet. Stones tumbling from the villa roof hit him on the shoulders and
one glanced off (to glance off –
glance – мельком взглянуть; мелькнуть; отражаться) his skull as he was lying on the
ground. He was conscious just long enough to see that nothing remained of the Alfa
Romeo but its four wheels and the steel shafts which held them together.
He came to consciousness in a room that seemed very dark and heard voices that
were so low that they were pure sound rather than words. Out of animal instinct he tried
to pretend he was still unconscious but the voices stopped and someone was leaning