Father: Turn off the radio, and fast! I’m tired; I’m not a loafer like you. Not me. Turn it off—turn it off right now.
Gavino: I don’t take orders like that any more. If you don’t like it, you get up and turn it off. I like to hear it.
Father: Get out of this house. Go away. Cross that doorstep and never set foot in this house again or I’ll maim you for life. Disappear, and may my eyes never see you again.
Gavino: If you’re a man, and if you have the courage, come ahead. Come on. Move! We’re not in Baddevrustana where you dispensed your goodness when you were satisfied and your rage when things went badly, and where you beat me until I bled, even if I wasn’t to blame. Come on. Are you afraid?
Father: I’m not afraid of you. Before I take orders from you, I’ll die. I’m not afraid of an intruder in my home.
Gavino: And neither am I afraid of you in the house where I was born. At that point he broke into a run and swung the stick to hit me on the head. I dove at him, getting as close as possible, keeping my head low to avoid the stick, and disarmed him.
Father: Ugly brute.
Gavino: Shouting won’t do you any good. We’re here alone, just the two of us, the way we were in Baddevrustana.
Father: Why are you running? Why are you backing off? Come on: why don’t you hit me?
Gavino: Is that what you want? for us to hit each other? You see this hand? I could break your jaw. But you don’t matter to me. You’d like to be able to tell people: “my son struck me”, so you could kick me out of the house. No! You’re not going to have that satisfaction. I’m not going to fall into your trap.
Gavino: You’ve ordered everyone around for too long and it’s time to be done with all that. We’ve all grown up as your slaves: with the fear of your person. And my brothers and sisters are still subject to your terrible authority. Luckily I’m not afraid of you any more. I have destroyed that fear in my brain. For me, now, you’re only a man like myself, and like so many others, and as such I respect you.
Father: I’m master here. I’m your father.
Gavino: You’re not the master of anything, and I’ve had it with fathers. I don’t want a father, and I don’t care anything about “blood”. Lots of people who weren’t related to me in any way have helped me more than you these last years. I respect you only as a man. But if you try to attack me, I’ll stop you with these claws.
Raging I went upstairs and came down again with my five hundred thousand lire.
Gavino: If you like you can have them. Here—take them. Money is the only thing that makes you happy.
Father: I don’t want your money; I want you to leave. Go! Get out of here!
GavinoI’m not leaving. Not even if you call the carabinieri. I’ll even let you vent your rage on my body, if you want to. Come on: hit me. Kick me. Do anything you like to me, the way you used to do. This is the only way you may strike me. Why don’t you do it?
When he saw me lying on the ground, ready to receive his blows, diminished and humiliated, he retired in silence.