Give and Take

I am sitting next to darling Fabio (not my boyfriend; sad to say, I — mature, chubby, challenging — have no boyfriend) as he drives his boss’s Mercedes down my local shopping street.

I spy Checco (pronounced “CAKE-oh”), the butcher boy, trudging along alone in his work whites with a downcast expression. I cannot resist the moment. I tell darling Fabio to slow down. With a flick of a button I roll down the car window and yell a resounding, “Sette a uno, aaaaaaoooooo!” that shatters the early morning quiet. Fabio laughs. He’s a good audience. That’s one reason he’s so darling. Checco is absorbed in his thoughts. I don’t know whether my tease has hit the cross bar and bounced out or made its mark.

Last night, the hometown heroes of AS Roma were annihilated 7-1. If you think of 7-1 as a baseball score, it might not seem so bad. If you realize how hard it is to score a goal in soccer, it is absolutely devastating if your team is on the short end.

The Rome fans may not remember some of the great sieges in history: the Greeks at Troy, Napoleon’s army in the snows of Russia, the Nazis at Stalingrad; they may not be able to locate Waterloo on the map. But they will never forget the gory details of that night at Old Trafford Stadium, Manchester, England.

Later that afternoon Checco delivers my order. I ask him slyly about last night. He says if I ever tease him about that game again he will no longer deliver my Diet Coke, milk, bran flakes, mozzarella, fresh pesto, tortellini, salad in a bag, grated Parmesan in a bag, cherry tomatoes in plastic, frozen peas, cat food and an occasional cut of chicken or thinly sliced medium roast beef with jus on the side to my door.

I tell him I am sorry and that I always root for the Italian soccer teams to win, except for Juve. Dissing Juve puts me back in Checco’s good graces. He accepts my apology and my tip and looks forward to the next game.

I am always nice to Checco. He has the appearance of a giant baby giant and possesses a gentle disposition, unlike his predecessor, who was too often sullen and sour. Checco dropped out of school to work, and he works hard and with good will and, usually, with a smile on his face. He also has a soft spot for cats.