Page 3 of Niccolo

Myfavorite game with Valentino was when he was learning to walk. I would aim pillows at his feet and knock his legs out from under him. He would fall down and wail angrily at me, then calm down and get up, at which point I would do it all over again. I wasn’t trying tohurthim; I just enjoyed annoying him.

I later wondered if Val had any subconscious memory of those days, hiding down below the threshold of conscious thought… because the antagonism was definitely mutual.

Not that I was especially popular with my brothers.

All right, I’ll admit it:

I was an annoying little bastard.

A know-it-all who liked to push people’s buttons to see their reactions.

I read an Italian translation of Mark Twain’sTom Sawyerwhen I was eight, and it delighted me how he could manipulate everyone around him.

I was convinced Tom Sawyer was a genius. He immediately became my hero and role model.

One of the most famous scenes in the book is when Tom has to paint his aunt’s fence as punishment.

He doesn’t want to do it, so he devises an ingenious scheme: to make everyonethinkhe’s having a grand time so they’ll be envious.

He starts to paint the fence with feigned enthusiasm. One by one, the neighborhood children come over to taunt him about having to work. But Tom tells them that this is the most fun he’s ever had, and he wouldn’t trade painting the fence for anything!

The children eventually believe him and begin begging to paint the fence, too.

Tom tells them no, it’s all for him!

They become desperate and begin offering him payment – money, toys, candy – until he finally relents and lets them take turns.

So not only does he get someone else to complete his chores for him, he profits from the encounter – all while convincing everyone else that it wastheiridea.

Like I said: genius.

I tried a similar ruse on several occasions. Papa didn’t want us growing up to be spoiled little pricks, so we had chores to do: keep our rooms clean, help workers in the vineyards, and assist the staff during harvest time.

On one occasion, I was able to get Adriano and Massimo to do my share of the chores because I convinced them that harvesting grapes and olives wassoooomuch fun!

Dario spoiled the fun by telling them exactly what I was doing.

Massimo just laughed.

Adriano did not. In fact, hehatedme after that one.

Okay… maybe he didn’thateme, but I’m sure he wouldn’t have minded if I’d been shipped off to boarding school, never to return.

Massimo didn’t seem to regard me positively or negatively, one way or the other. He just accepted my existence and went with the flow.

Roberto would get annoyed when I teased him, but otherwise I treated him as an equal, and we got along well.

Valentino always seemed to bear a grudge against me. Probably for slinging the pillows at him while he was learning to walk.

The one exception was Dario.

I adored him, and he liked me almost as much. I often thought I was his favorite brother, even though he never would have said so. It would have made the others jealous.

I rarely tried to manipulate him. The few times I did, he would point a finger at me and say authoritatively, “Stop. I know what you’re doing.”

Dario was the only one who could see through my ploys and childish manipulations. I respected that immensely.

After Roberto and I drifted apart in our early 20s, it was no surprise that Dario ended up being my closest brother.

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