Toto - 3. Chapter 3

The next morning, Toto was slow to rise. He had lain awake in his temporary bed for a while, the morning light streaming in once again through the slats in the shutters, listening wearily to the sounds of the household waking around him.

Now he wandered through to the living area, where Gianni and Angelo were talking quietly at the table. Ennio was sitting in his usual spot on the back of the sofa, insistently licking his left flank. Toto approached the cat first, extending an arm in greeting. Ennio dignified Toto’s outstretched hand with a sniff, a lick and a rub before returning to his washing.

“Buongiorno, Toto,” Angelo said.

“Ciao,” Toto replied, looking up.

“Listen, Toto…” Gianni said “We wanted to talk to you. We’re sorry we haven’t managed to help patch things up with your father yet… to be honest, we’re not sure what to try next. But we’re working on it.”

“It’s okay,” Toto said dully. Rubbing his nose distractedly, he turned his attention back to the cat and began stroking the soft fur of its head and back. Ennio stretched out and purred, kneading the sofa with his claws.

“And we’re sorry we’ve been too busy with work to spend much time with you,” Angelo added. “We’d like to make it up to you, though. How do you feel about camping?”

“Camping?” Toto asked curiously.

“We’ve been asking around, and we think we can get our hands on a couple of tents and some other gear,” Gianni put in.

“It’s going to be a warm night tonight,” Angelo explained. “How would you feel about a night under the stars up on Monte Brusara?”

“Really? You’d take me?” Toto asked, his heart lifting considerably.

Angelo smiled. “You, us and Claudia,” he said. He glanced down as the dog came snuffling over from his bed by the French doors. “And maybe old Alfredo here.”

Toto nodded. “I’d like that a lot.”

* * *

Toto had most of the day to kill before the trip, so he hung around the apartment for a little while after the others had left for work. Idly, he flicked through Gianni’s sketch pad, and found it full of lovingly detailed drawings of familiar landscapes and landmarks. He thought of Claudia, and of her project to capture Ravello as seen through a tourist’s eyes. He thought Gianni’s drawings might give her an idea or two and, for the first time, wondered what it must have been like for the young man, born and raised in a busy city in another country, to find himself parachuted into this place as a teenager not much older than Toto himself. He must have felt like a stranger here.

I’m starting to know the feeling.

When he was showered and ready to go, he said goodbye to the animals and let himself out, dressed in fashionably faded black jeans and a maroon and white bomber jacket with a bottle of water poking out of one pocket. Gianni had given him a few coins to pay for his lunch, which jangled in his jeans pocket as he walked. Reaching the square with the fountain, he took the high road this time, and made his way along the ridge at the top of the town, pausing to glance out over the view down to the shimmering blue sea as he went. He made his way down through a quiet street of fine old palazzi, reaching the small town hall behind the cathedral, where a few people relaxed in the shade of its colourful gardens. From there, it was an easy descent down a broad stairway lined with colourful sprays of light pink oleanders to reach the cathedral square.

Toto wandered alone across the quietly bustling space. Retracing his steps of the previous day, he made his way down the hill, away from the crowds, and was soon entering the small piazza at San Cosma.

Pausing only briefly by the shrine, Toto continued through the piazza and out onto a concrete path beyond it that he and Michele had explored many times. The path wound its way around the base of an imposing stone cliff overlooking the coast. From here, Toto could see where the valley between Ravello and Scala completed its descent to the sea at the village of Atrani. A lonely and ancient stone watchtower stood at the top of a jagged rocky crag on the far side of the valley, separating Atrani from the hidden bay of Amalfi beyond. Far above him, Toto knew, tourists would be staring down on the coastal scene from the Terrace of Infinity at the Villa Cimbrone gardens. Down here, however, all was quiet.

Toto followed the path until it turned inland, pulling away from the cliff, and was enveloped by olive trees. This was the spot to which he had come to be alone.

The steeply sloping olive grove rang with the scraping of cicadas and the morning sun beat down on the dusty soil. Toto stepped off the path and sat down with his back against the gnarled trunk of an old olive tree, sipping his water.

He thought of what Claudia had said the previous day: ‘How long have you known… that you were into guys?’

Is that me, then? Am I really just ‘into guys’?

Toto thought back, trying to figure out whether he had ever had a crush on anyone else, even if he hadn’t realised it at the time… but no, there had only been Michele.

Say I am... Say I am just into guys. Am I okay with that?

Claudia was obviously okay with it and so, of course, were Gianni and Angelo, and they had managed to find some form of acceptance within the town. If they could be that happy with who they were, then Toto supposed that he could live with being that way too. But then there was his father… Toto wasn’t sure that things would ever be okay there.

This isn’t the sort of person Papà wanted me to be.

For all of that, it was Michele that he missed the most – the sweet and loyal Michele who had been his best friend, not the quiet and avoidant Michele who had ridden off with Enzo the previous day. Toto closed his eyes for a moment, losing himself in memories. He thought of the countless times that he and Michele, as younger boys, had played hide and seek among these trees, or indulged in another of their favourite games, ‘spot the cicada’.

Toto looked up into the silvery canopy of the tree above his head. There was at least one cicada up there now: he could hear it distinctly, scraping away. The tree itself looked easy enough to climb, with well-placed low branches that would make ideal handholds and footholds.

Toto hadn’t done this for a while, but he supposed you never really forgot how. Leaving the water bottle on the ground, he scrambled up the tree until he was firmly perched with his feet in the crook of two branches.

The cicada, of course, had fallen silent the moment he started to move, but Toto knew that, if you stayed still, the cicada would always forget the potential threat. Sure enough, after a few seconds, he heard the scraping noise start up again: very close now, and just a little off to his left.

Toto smiled as he spotted the insect, just a couple of metres away, perched on a ripening green olive: a stocky brown body, like a large cricket, with long membranous wings traced with thin black veins, busily flexing its tymbals to make its scraping song and hopefully attract a mate.

Life must be so simple if you’re a bug, he thought.

Toto and Michele had always competed to see who could find a cicada first. Once upon a time, they had even tried to catch them, which they had realised you could do if you were slow and patient enough... but that had ended when Michele, aged nine, had grabbed one eagerly and jumped down out of his tree, only to find the insect twitching in his palm, delicate wings broken. A saddened Toto had put the creature out of its misery. Michele, however, had been inconsolable, and had cried for most of the walk back to San Cosma.

Toto sighed. Hunting cicadas had lost its appeal. He scrambled back down the tree and resumed his perch by the base of the trunk.

* * *

Later on, Toto made his way back up to the cathedral square and stopped at one of the bars for lunch. He ordered a Parma ham and mozzarella panino, which he munched at an outside table, washing it down with a refreshingly cold can of Sprite and watching the world go by.

“Buongiorno, Toto,” said a polite voice.

Father Stefano, the priest at the cathedral, had appeared at Toto’s side while he was distracted watching tourists photographing the view across to Scala. Toto turned to look at the visitor curiously. Toto and his father were not in the habit of going to church, and he was surprised to be addressed by name.

“Buongiorno, father,” he replied.

“How are you?”

Toto shrugged. “Okay. I’ve been better, I guess.”

“I don’t suppose you’ve seen your friend Michele today?” the priest asked.

Toto shook his head. “Sorry.”

“I heard what happened between you,” Father Stefano said sombrely.

Toto frowned a little and braced himself for a sermon. The priest, however, seemed to have something else on his mind.

“It’s just that he…” Father Stefano tailed off. “No, I shouldn’t say.”

Father Stefano paused, taking off his cap and scratching his head thoughtfully. “I hope the two of you find each other again soon,” he said at length. “I have a feeling that… he may need you more than you know.”

Toto thought of his encounter with Enzo and Michele the day before. “I don’t know if I can do that, father,” he replied.

The priest sighed and nodded. “As you say,” he said. “Take care of yourself, Toto.”

Father Stefano bowed his head slightly and continued towards the cathedral. Toto watched him go, more confused than ever.

Toto was still trying to make sense of what the priest had meant when he finished his lunch. Once he had paid, he set off towards Gianni and Angelo’s apartment to get out of the afternoon sun. His feet took him automatically down Via Roma, where he dodged around the shoppers, passing an ice cream parlour and then a gift shop with a colourful outside display of chillies and lemons. Rounding a corner, only half looking where he was going, he stopped abruptly as he came face to face with his father.

Salvatore was standing in the doorway of his shop, which was temporarily free of customers. “Toto,” he said, with a curt nod of greeting.

“Papà,” Toto nodded in return, taking an unconscious step back. With one more uncertain glance at his father, he hurried on his way.

* * *

Later that day, as the sun sank a little lower in the sky, Toto fed the cat and left the apartment with Alfredo to meet Claudia by the fountain, as had been arranged. They were going to walk together to the highest point on Monte Brusara that could be reached by car, where they were going to meet up with the others, who would be bringing the camping gear.

Claudia was already waiting for him. She had dressed for the hike, sensibly turned out in trainers, jeans, a t-shirt and a light jacket.

“Ciao, Toto,” she said brightly, kneeling down to give Alfredo a scratch between the ears; the dog gave her hand a quick slobber in turn. “Ready to go?”

“Sure,” Toto replied.

They set off along a shady street leading away from the centre of town and were soon climbing the hill. As they walked, Toto told Claudia about his brief encounter with his father, which had largely driven Father Stefano from his mind.

“Well, at least he didn’t give you a hard time,” she offered hopefully.

“I know, but it was weird.”

Companionably, they continued their gradual ascent, quickly entering the neighbourhood of San Martino, a close-knit sprawl of small houses and apartment buildings that traversed the side of the mountain. After a while they turned left onto a much steeper flight of steps and began to ascend the mountain proper. Through the gaps between the scruffy whitewashed buildings, they watched the valley between Ravello and Scala disappear further and further below them as they rose above the centres of both towns.

The climb slackened off for a while as they emerged at the very top of the winding mountain road. The others hadn’t arrived yet, so they stood by a low concrete wall and looked out over the rugged landscape below them as it tumbled steeply down towards the blue sea. The evening sun bathed them in a golden glow from somewhere just above the peaks of Scala.

After a few minutes they heard an engine, and a compact Fiat pulled up beside them. Gianni and Angelo hopped out of the back and, after greeting Toto and Claudia, hurried straight to the boot. Pulling out two rucksacks loaded with food and other supplies, they handed these to the two teenagers, along with a sleeping bag and airbed each. This was followed by two tent bags, two more sleeping bags and a double airbed of their own. Angelo paused to speak to the driver.

“Thanks for the lift, Pietro,” he said.

“You’re welcome,” Pietro replied. “Give me a call when you’re on your way back down tomorrow and one of us will come to collect you.” He winked at Toto and Claudia. “Have fun up there.”

The party waved Pietro off as he set off back down the narrow road in reverse.

“I guess it’s up to us now,” Angelo grinned. “Get those legs moving.”

Gianni and Angelo took a tent bag each and took turns with the double airbed. To start with, the climb was fairly easy as they passed the last few houses. However, they had soon emerged into an area of wild woodland. Here, ferns and broadleaved trees replaced the olive trees and pines of the town below, and the paved footpath petered out to be replaced with earth and rocks.

They turned up a narrow side path and climbed steeply upwards, puffing slightly in the heat of the evening while Alfredo climbed with ease, sniffing at everything he passed with excited interest. Toto mopped his brow as he felt beads of sweat begin to form there. However, they had soon reached the rocky ridge at the summit of the mountain.

They hiked along the summit until they reached a small plateau where the land began to fall away again. Through the gaps between the trees they could glimpse the surrounding landscape, the towns and the sea spread out below them. The ground was stony, but in the shadow of the trees there was just enough earth to pitch the two tents.

Once the tents were pitched on the flattest pieces of ground they could find, they set to work to create a campfire, choosing a rocky patch of ground that was distant from the trees and where there was little of the surrounding dry grass that might allow the fire to spread. As he helped to create a ring of stones, it seemed to Toto that a fire would hardly be necessary against the heat of the summer night. Gianni and Angelo, however, insisted that a camp wouldn’t be the same without it.

While the two young men sorted through the food and cooking equipment, Toto and Claudia were dispatched to search for firewood and kindling. They ferreted about together among the scrubby trees, searching for fallen branches, dead leaves and twigs. After a few minutes of this, her arms already full of timber, Claudia glanced across to Toto and offered him a smile.

“How are you doing, Toto?” she asked.

“Fine,” he said, “this is great.” And, for once, he meant it.

Once they had delivered armfuls of firewood to Gianni and Angelo, Toto and Claudia returned to their tent for a rest. The sun was beginning to dip below the mountain tops, lighting up the few scattered clouds in the sky with an orange glow. They paused for a moment near the threshold, watching the two young men work together to build the fire.

“I used to have it so bad for him,” Claudia said, casting a wistful glance at Gianni.

Toto smiled. “Really? That’s too bad.”

“I know… what is it about gay guys?” she sighed distractedly.

At this, they glanced towards each other for a long moment. Claudia bit her lip in embarrassment as she seemed to realise what she had just said, and Toto had to work hard to keep from laughing.

“That was so awkward,” he said.

Claudia made a mock cross face. “Oh, shut up,” she said, disappearing into the tent.

Toto followed her into the tent and found her lying stretched out on her airbed, inspecting her fingernails nonchalantly. Toto settled down on his own bed and pulled down the tent flap to get the failing evening sunlight out of his eyes.

“So have you really never liked a girl?” Claudia asked.

Toto shook his head. “No.”

“Not even a teeny, tiny little bit?” she wheedled.

Toto grinned. “Never.”

“So the thought of this,” she said, sliding over so that her face was just inches from his own, “really doesn’t excite you at all?”

She closed her eyes and planted a short kiss on Toto’s lips. It only lasted for a couple of seconds, and she was back on her airbed before Toto even had time to finish tasting the strawberry lip balm that she must have put on earlier that evening. “Well?”

For a moment, Toto lay looking at her in blank surprise. After everything that had happened in the last couple of days, there was something so ridiculous about this situation that his first instinct was to laugh. He chewed a thumbnail, trying to resist the urge, but it was no good: the giggles forced their way to the surface and soon he was shaking with them, completely beyond control.

Claudia looked abashed for a moment but then she, too, snorted with laughter. “Your face…!”

“That… was… so… lame…” he managed to splutter, and then they both fell about laughing.

“Claudia likes the gay boys,” Toto chanted when he had regained his breath.

Claudia responded by throwing her camping pillow at him. “You tell anyone,” she said, “and I’ll kick your ass.”

* * *

A while later, Gianni and Angelo called to Toto and Claudia to join them. The sky had darkened to a deep blue, the campfire had settled down to a good hot burn and the two young men were making preparations for dinner. Gianni had produced a blackened old frying pan from somewhere and was unwrapping some chopped peppers, onions and aubergines and halved cherry tomatoes while Angelo produced a camping stove, a small bottle of olive oil and a quantity of chicken cut into strips.

Soon the improvised dinner was sizzling in the wooden-handled pan, giving off an inviting, savoury smell that made Toto’s stomach rumble. Gianni and Angelo took it in turns to stir the food as they told stories about their youthful adventures together.

“So then Angelo got us both lost, and we ended up in the middle of someone’s private vineyard,” Gianni was saying. “It wouldn’t have been so bad, but the owner was there and she caught us at it.”

Angelo groaned. “Those little dogs, do you remember?” he said. He turned to Alfredo and scratched him on the chin. “You would never be so yappy, would you?”

Alfredo responded to this with an enthusiastic bark.

“And then there was the time Angelo tried to take us along one of the old paths across the upper valley from Ravello to Scala,” Gianni went on, “and it was totally overgrown with brambles. We were shimmying along this tiny little bit of concrete that was still uncovered, thorns snagging at our socks, with a sheer drop at our backs.”

“We almost died,” Angelo replied nostalgically, and they all laughed.

Angelo cast a glance at Gianni and grinned. “Of course, once this one had come out of his shell, he was just as bad,” he said. “I’ll never forget the time that he led me over a stone wall on Via San Cosma and we jumped straight into a pile of… ah, dinner’s ready.”

Angelo dished the food out into four bowls and passed them round. They tucked into the tasty meal with forks and chunks of crusty bread. As he ate, Toto glanced out at the gaps between the trees, seeing how the lights shone in the scattered lanes of the towns below and in crisp gold lines down on the distant coast. The warm night was stirred by a tiny lick of refreshing breeze, the scattered clouds diffusing the moonlight.

“What do you think of this place, Toto?” Angelo asked in the flickering glow of the fire.

“I think it’s the best place there is,” Toto replied. “I wish I could have come here before.”

“I guess your father must always have been pretty busy running that shop on his own?” Gianni interjected. “It can’t have left a lot of time for stuff like this. You know, quality father-son time.”

Somehow, the mention of his father didn’t upset Toto as much as it would have done a day or two ago. He nodded.

“Papà always worked really hard,” he said, “especially after Mamma died.”

“When did she die?” Claudia asked.

“When I was three,” Toto replied. “I don’t even remember her that well.”

“That must have been hard for him,” Gianni said, “being a single parent and running a business at the same time.”

Toto nodded. “I guess. After she died, he was all about the work. We didn’t really go for trips, we didn’t even go to church any more. I spent all my time with Michele.”

“Did he ever ask you to help with the shop?” Angelo asked.

Toto frowned as he thought about this. “No,” he said, “except for special occasions when he was really busy, like on Saturday nights during the festival.”

“So he’s never tried to train you in the business?”

Toto shook his head. “I don’t think that’s what he wanted for me.”

Angelo stroked his top lip thoughtfully. “So I wonder what he does want for you?” he paused, giving Toto a slightly shamefaced half-smile. “Well, apart from not liking boys, I mean.”

“But that’s it…” Gianni breathed, his face illuminated with a sudden thought. “I mean, no wonder we haven’t been able to help.”

There was a pause as everyone around the fire looked at him expectantly.

“What are you getting at, G.?” Angelo asked. “Don’t keep us in suspense.”

Gianni looked at Toto. “I couldn’t talk him round because Angelo and I represent everything your father doesn’t want for you. We need someone who gets where he’s coming from.”

“Smart thinking, G.” Angelo said with respect.

A plan was clearly forming in Gianni’s mind: he looked positively excited now. “Leave it with me. I think I know how we can sort all this out.”

This was the best news Toto had heard yet. The talk turned back to silly stories, and this time Toto joined in, even adding a few anecdotes about himself and Michele.

Sitting back as they chatted, and glancing around the fire, Toto came to a realisation: whatever happened next, whether or not Gianni’s plan worked, here were three people that he could call his true friends, and he felt his heart expand at the thought.

It was a short while later that the light breeze finally blew the scattered clouds aside and a big full moon emerged, bathing them all in its pale glow. They all looked aloft. Angelo got to his feet and moved away from the fire, staring up at it, his face bathed in moonlight.

“Sometimes you’ve just got to let it all go,” he said. “Come on, Toto, let loose your inner wolf.” And he howled.

Toto, stared, speechless. Claudia flashed him an encouraging smile, getting up to join her brother. “Yeah, come on, Toto,” she said.

Gianni chuckled as Claudia stood with Angelo and joined in. Soon Alfredo had sat down beside them both, letting loose his own doggy howls into the night.

Toto felt the last of his anxiety melt away. As if lifted by a force not quite his own, he rose from his seat by the fire and stood side by side with the others, howling at the moon.