The Combover by Adrián N. Bravi

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    "That's enough for today, Arduino, there's bad weather on its way," said Giuseppina as she entered the cave. "Many have gone back, they couldn't manage the climb. See you tomorrow, all being well."
    "Alright, see you tomorrow, Giuseppina," I said.
    Half an hour later it started to rain. At first there was a light pitter-patter on the leaves, and then, soon after, a heavy downpour began. There was no sign now of any sick and infirm in the woods. Alone once more. I couldn't manage without washing my hair, even though it was raining. I had to cleanse myself, to get rid of all those hands that had been on me, pulling down my hair. I took the shampoo, bucket, and towel and hurried down through the rain to the stream. I stripped off and washed myself from head to toe. Then I returned to the cave, covering myself as best I could with the towel. I smoothed my hair with the comb, lit a fire, and ate some sausages and pie that had been brought for me. So long as it rained there was no danger of any visits and Giuseppina would stay down in Cingoli. It was the first time I had seen the town in the rain: its lights twinkling in the grayness, the chime of a church bell or the sound of a car horn echoing in the mountains. These showers reminded me of when my father got ready to go out in the rain. They were grueling preparations. My mother would wipe down his Wellington boots, take his raincoat out of the wardrobe, put his large umbrella outside the front door, and would then invariably ask: "What do you say, Abele, do you want to take a hat?"
    "No, no, better not," he would say, and meanwhile he would comb his hair (not only did he comb it to one side but he made it curl backward, and this took much longer), he smoothed it flat, put on some spray, some cream, a concoction of substances that in the end made his hair firm and shiny, resistant to wind and rain. Then he took off his slippers and put on his clean, spotless Wellingtons. My mother would help him on with the raincoat and then hand him the umbrella with the usual plea: "If you need anything, Abele, just call me."
    "Don't worry," he'd say to reassure her.
    By dawn it had stopped raining. The air was cooler, and inside my sleeping bag I felt cocooned like an animal. I remained half-asleep until early morning. I heard the birdsong, smelled the grass. When I opened my eyes to look outside, I saw a red roebuck in front of the cave with two twigs on its head, looking at me curiously, thrusting forward its gray muzzle and two enormous black eyes. We stared at each in silence for a moment. Motionless. Two strangers who were not expecting to meet and now scrutinized each other. I knew that the slightest movement on my part would frighten it off. Then I felt a mosquito or a fly buzzing around my ear and instinctively flapped my hand in the air. The deer ran off like lightning into the woods. I went after it for a few meters but immediately lost sight of it. It was no longer raining. The sky was littered with small clouds that floated on the horizon. A few stars were still faintly visible in the gaps between them. I had breakfast, relit the fire. Meanwhile the sun had begun to climb over the mountains until it appeared in full from behind a rocky outcrop. I remained there in the cave, doing nothing. I looked around. Then I heard voices. I felt restless. It had to be the sick and infirm who were coming to touch me to get some luck. I realized that escape was the only possible way of saving myself and bringing an end to it.
    "Arduino, Arduino, it's us!"
    I have to admit I find it difficult making friends, even with people I know. I get irritated by those smiles, friendly gestures, pats on the back. In short, I don't trust people; it's my Marche upbringing, there's nothing I can do about it.
    "Arduino, Arduino, it's us!" someone kept shouting, so that her shrill voice echoed among the trees.
    There was no doubt about it, Giuseppina was the only one who'd call out like that in the middle of