Page 64 - Litteratteur Redefining World December issue
P. 64

Litterateur redefining world                      December 2020







              William got up off the bed and followed Roberto. The air outside was still and hot.
              They spent the day in the vines, harvesting. Roberto and William picked without
              speaking.  As  he  worked  William  imagined  where  he  would  go  when  he  left  the
              vineyard, the places he had seen on the internet. All he knew of the country was
              the airport, and the passing landscapes on his six hour bus ride to the vineyard. It
              had been a bleak winter’s day when he landed, the horizon shrouded in looming
              clouds, the rough hills stretching on for hours. William paused in his work, stood
              and  straightened  his  spine.  He  lifted  his  head  to  the  blue  sky,  the  silhouette  of
              rough hills. Surely there’s more to this country than this.


              By the end of the day William was sore from bending over and carrying, his knees
              aching from crouching under the foliage. Even though he’d been wearing a hat the

              skin  on  his  face  felt  tight  with  sunburn.  Roberto  drove  the  truck  back  to  the
              buildings in the twilight and they unloaded the grapes into the sheds. It was dark
              by  the  time  they  were  inside  the  farmhouse,  the  first  stars  twinkling  in  the  dry
              summer  sky.  Roberto  cooked  by  candlelight  and  they  ate  silently  in  the  kitchen.
              William was too tired to speak, and went to his room as soon as he had finished
              cleaning the kitchen. It almost seemed like too much trouble to wash himself, but
              the cold water from the shower head cooled his tight skin as he stood in the watery
              darkness. He fell asleep almost as soon as he blew out the candle.


              When he woke in the morning William saw immediately that someone had been in
              his room. His bag was unzipped, and the drawers of the bedside table lay open. He
              guessed what Roberto had done.


              William found him in the machinery shed.



              Where’s my fucking passport?


              Roberto  held  up  his  hands.  They  were  big,  almost  bear  like,  the  palms  pale
              compared to the rest of his body.


              You will get it back when we are done, and paid all what you are owed. It will only
              be a matter of a few weeks extra, maybe a month.




















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