Il turno di notte, racconto di fantasia (The Night Shift, a short story)
QCER B2377 parole
Between three and five in the morning, the petrol station on the motorway belonged to Nadia and to whoever needed fuel badly enough to stop. The lorries arrived in waves, and then, for an hour at a time, nothing. She had learned to tell the time by what people bought. At three it was coffee and cigarettes. By half past four it was chocolate, always chocolate, as if the body knew the night was nearly over and wanted something in return.
The man came in for the first time on a Tuesday. He bought a bottle of water, paid in coins that he counted twice, and asked whether the road north was still closed. It wasn't, and it never had been. He thanked her anyway and stood by the door for a while, looking out at his car, parked away from the pumps, in the dark, at the far end of the forecourt.
On Wednesday he was back at twenty to five. The same water, the same coins, the same question about the road. Nadia said no again, and this time she watched the security screen instead of his face. The car had not moved from the far end. Something in the back seat, or someone, stirred and then was still.
On Thursday she caught herself waiting for him. That was the part she would never tell anyone. She had wiped the counter twice, straightened the chocolate, switched the coffee machine on early, and when the doors slid open at twenty to five she felt the relief of something arriving on time. Ridiculous. He was a man who bought water. He was a driver who could not sleep, like half the country.
He came to the counter with the bottle and did not put it down. "You're here every night," he said. It was not a question, and she did not answer it. Behind him, through the glass, the headlights of his car came on and went off again, once, like someone tired of waiting.
Nadia looked at the clock. Twelve minutes to five. Twelve minutes, and then the day shift, and the light, and the ordinary noise of the road. She put her hand under the counter, where the alarm button was, and left it there.
Parole che forse non conosci
- shiftturno di lavoro
- forecourtpiazzale del distributore
- pumppompa di benzina
- lorrycamion
- counterbancone
- coinmoneta
- to wipepulire passando uno straccio
- to straighten (things on a shelf)raddrizzare, sistemare
- to stirmuoversi appena
- still (not moving)fermo, immobile
- headlightsfari dell'auto
Domande
Si risponde con il testo davanti. Non è memoria: è capire.
How does Nadia know roughly what time it is during her shift?
By what the customers buy — Ha imparato a capire l'ora da quello che comprano i clienti: alle tre, caffè e sigarette; alle quattro e mezza, cioccolato.
The man asked whether the road north was still ___.
closed — È la domanda che ripete tutte e tre le notti: whether the road north was still closed.
The road north really was closed that week.
False — Il testo lo nega due volte nella stessa frase: It wasn't, and it never had been. Non era chiusa quella notte e non lo era mai stata.
What do the details about the car suggest?
That the man did not want anyone to see it properly — Il testo non lo dice: bisogna dedurlo. L'auto è lontana dalle pompe, al buio, in fondo al piazzale, e la seconda notte è ancora lì. Chi va solo a comprare dell'acqua parcheggia dove c'è luce e se ne va. E qualcosa, o qualcuno, si muove sul sedile posteriore.
What has changed in Nadia herself by the third night?
She has begun to look forward to his visits without admitting it — Il testo non lo dice: è un'altra inferenza. Si vede da quello che fa —pulisce il bancone due volte, sistema il cioccolato, accende in anticipo la macchina del caffè— e da quel «Ridiculous», che è la sua stessa voce che discute con sé stessa. E dal fatto che è la parte che non racconterebbe a nessuno.
What does the last sentence of the text suggest?
That she is getting ready for something that may not happen — Mette la mano dove c'è il pulsante dell'allarme e la lascia lì: non lo preme. Il racconto finisce aperto, in quei dodici minuti, e non arriva a dire che cosa succede dopo.