We Eat Our Own Read Free

by a panel of eight giudici—
    VELLUTO: Yes, yes.
    GIUDICE A LATERE: —two of whom have been selected from the primary judiciary and six from amongst the popolari in order to deliver an unbiased judgment—
    VELLUTO: Well, if it were unbiased, you’d throw the popolari out.
    [Whereupon the procuratore capo whispers to his supporting counsel.]
    PROCURATORE CAPO: Is he drunk?
    GIUDICE A LATERE: Avvocato, please instruct your client to remain respectful of this court.
    AVVOCATO: I will, signore.
    VELLUTO: He will try, signore. I can’t guarantee he’ll succeed.
    GIUDICE A LATERE: That’s enough. How does your client plead?
    AVVOCATO: We believe there is insufficient evidence to support these charges and request an immediate mistrial.
    GIUDICE A LATERE: The Pubblico Ministero has already issued his decree, signore.
    AVVOCATO: But there are no bodies.
    GIUDICE A LATERE: We have a list of three actors who are presumed dead.
    VELLUTO: Presumed.
    GIUDICE A LATERE: Teo Avati, actor and known associate of the accused.
    VELLUTO: “Known associate.” Like I’m a mafioso.
    PROCURATORE CAPO: Swiss national Irena Brizzolari, actress and—
    VELLUTO: You can’t confirm this. The film has no credits. You can’t confirm.
    PROCURATORE CAPO: We have numerous testimonies from relatives, friends, crewmen on the film—
    VELLUTO: But no bodies.
    GIUDICE A LATERE: I understand that these three actors die on tape.
    AVVOCATO: A feature film, sir, a simple—
    [Wherein Signor Velluto laughs loudly . ]
    VELLUTO: Listen to the man. There’s tape!
    AVVOCATO: What my client means is—
    VELLUTO: That’s beautiful. Who needs bodies when there’s tape ?
    GIUDICE A LATERE: Signor Velluto, are you done, or may we proceed?
    VELLUTO: Of course. I’m sorry. I’m sorry, just let me . . . Let’s watch the tape! Come on, Giudice, let’s see where those bodies are!

TEO
----
    Ovidio
    T hree days after he arrived in Colombia, Teo Avati saw his first anaconda.
    He wasn’t sure what it was at first. His skin was hot with rage and he was walking fast down the riverbank, but then he glimpsed it. Ten meters off into the shallows. Something twisting. Brown scales and muscle. A shining knot, wide as a sidewalk and moving almost too slowly to see.
    He made himself stop. He made his breath still. The snake was half underwater and coiled like a stacked rope pushed over in a rush. Every twist of its body was as thick as a man’s waist and squeezing.
    In the center of it, something was still alive, one black eye staring out from the center of the coils.
    He stared into it, fascinated. He realized why: it reminded him of Anahi.
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    He finds Anahi later that night, like he has every night since he came here. He tells the woman at the front desk that somethingin his room needs fixing. He requests that Anahi be the one who comes. But what he really wants is to ask her about the snake.
    Are you sure it was brown? Like that? She nods toward the band of his wristwatch. She says it in Spanish: Teo studied it in school and can puzzle out cognates for the words he doesn’t know.
    She is standing on a chair, rigging mosquito netting over the door to his room. He wanted her to put it back up over his bed, but she refused. It is night. The darkness over the clearing they use as a parking lot is its own deep blue. She holds her breath to keep her balance, raises an arm over her head. He watches the knot of muscles move in each of her shoulder sockets.
    He shrugs. Close to it. The water made it look darker.
    And very long?
    I don’t know. It was muddy.
    But thick as your waist? You’re sure.
    It was coiled. He takes a pull from his San Tomás and sets it down on the wood chips they’ve got carpeting the lot, leans his head back against the wall. I think so, but I’m not sure.
    Anahi slips a nail out of the pocket of her jean shorts and holds it