Together We Can Fly - 10. Chapter 10

Toto returned home that night giddy with the evening he had just experienced.

When they finally decided to part company for the night, Toto had offered to walk Michele home so he could collect his Vespa scooter. Michele suggested that they carry on down the path from the viewpoint, as it offered them a major shortcut on the way there. However, they also knew that a large part of the path was unlit and treacherous.

There was much giggling as they fumbled around in the dark, bumping into each other on the steep, winding and uneven steps. Toto felt like a child again, pushing the limits of safe exploration, as he and Michele had done on many occasions when they were younger.

They both sobered up a bit as they came out on the zig-zagging road below the town and approached Michele’s house, as they remembered the plaintive note on which they had left Michele’s parents earlier that evening. Toto promised to stop by again first thing in the morning to see how things were. They kissed goodnight in the lane outside Michele’s courtyard, and Toto watched his friend until he had disappeared through the front door.

Toto collected his scooter and rode back up the hill, relishing the feel of the fresh night air on his face. He zipped through the main road tunnel and rode back to his usual spot on Via Roma. Squeezing the Vespa into the last available space, he walked back up the street in the nocturnal cool. Late diners were still enjoying dinner at Da Rossi, where a welcoming glow and a rumble of cheerful conversation and laughter drifted out through the open doors into the summer evening.

The shops had all shut for the night, and Toto’s footsteps echoed around the voids under the overhanging buildings as he trod the uneven paving stones. Even Salvatore had closed his store for the evening and, from the dim light that glimmered through the apartment windows, Toto could tell that his father was home.

Toto let himself in through the front door and climbed the steps. He found his father reading a newspaper at the dining table in the pool of light cast by the low overhead lamp. He seemed tired, but then he always did during the long opening hours of the summer season.

“Buonasera, Toto,” Salvatore said conversationally, folding up his newspaper and placing it down on the table. “You’re late home tonight.”

Toto nodded. “Yeah, I was out with Michele. I guess we lost track of time, sorry.”

Salvatore shrugged. “No harm done. You must have been having a good time, at least.”

Toto felt himself flush at once, and hoped it wouldn’t show in the gloom. “Yeah, it was… great.”

I’ll tell you soon, Papà, I promise.

“Young Claudia popped into the shop earlier, looking for you,” Salvatore said. “She seemed quite impatient to find you.”

Toto smiled. Sounds like Angelo has been talking…

“All right, thanks Papà, I’ll send her a text. How was your day?”

“Fine, thank you,” he replied. “Business was good. Marina Bianchi bought a pack of the new salami… she seemed to think you’d recommended it?”

Toto smiled. “I might have.”

Salvatore scratched his moustache. “Well, please do keep sending business my way.”

“I will. I’m going to turn in, now, Papà.”

“Good night, Toto. Will you join me for dinner in the square tomorrow? I’ll close the shop early.”

Toto nodded. “Sure. Will Marta be there?”

“I don’t know, I’ll ask her. Shall we say eight o’clock?”

“Yeah, okay. Buonanotte, Papà.”

Toto detoured to the bathroom to brush his teeth and wash his face, then he shut himself in his bedroom. Stripping off most of his clothes, Toto relaxed on his bed. The glow of the street lights streamed in through the open shutters, and a lick of mild night air drifted in through the open window. Toto dug out his mobile phone and, in the glow cast by his bedside lamp, realised he had missed several texts from Claudia.

“Is it true?” one read.

“Really, is it true?” read another.

“WELL?” read a third.

Laughing to himself, Toto sent back a one-word answer. “Yes.”

He switched his phone off as soon as the text message had sent, rolling onto his back to stare at the ceiling.

Let her stew on that one for a bit…

Toto thought he had never felt so happy.

* * *

Toto was up early the next morning, impatient to go back and see his friend again, but he restrained himself. It would be better, he thought, to let Michele and his parents have their breakfast in peace, to help them recover from the drama of the previous night.

Toto enjoyed a lemon croissant and a glass of orange juice, and then wandered down into the street, where he helped his father to take in a delivery of preserved goods, helping to shift heavy crates of olives, anchovies and capers.

Once he was free to go, Toto decided to walk down to Michele’s house instead of taking his scooter. He set off up the street and then tracked out across the square, where the traders were going through the daily ritual of setting up their outside displays.

The blue sky was broken by a few scattered clouds this morning, and there was a touch of humidity in the air. Beyond the umbrella pines, the view across to Scala was slightly hazy and out of focus. He paused to take it in for a moment, breathing it all in before continuing on his way, full of the joys of the season.

Toto knew the summer sunshine would soon burn the haze away, but the air was still cool in the shade, and he enjoyed the feel of it as he made his way down the long stone stairway that led to Michele’s neighbourhood. A few minutes later, he had reached Michele’s courtyard, and was about to knock on the door when he noticed, through a gap between the buildings, that Michele and his parents were out in the street below.

He returned to the footpath and made his way down the steps to the road, keeping his distance in case he was interrupting an important family moment.

It looked like Davide was setting off on his travels again. He was back in his business suit, and he was loading a suitcase into the boot of his car while Michele helped to lift crates of product samples into the back. As Toto watched, Chiara and Davide embraced.

“Have a lovely time in Bari, caro,” she said. “Let us know when you’ve arrived safely.”

“I will,” he replied. “Arrivederci, cara.” He turned to his son, pulling him into a rough hug. “Take care of your mother while I’m gone, Michele.”

“I will, Papà,” Michele replied.

“Listen, about last night…” Davide said, “I want you to know that it’s okay. Your mother and I, we may need a bit of time to adjust, but… you’re still our son.”

“Thanks, Papà,” Michele said, and they hugged again.

With the car fully loaded, Davide was ready to leave. He climbed into the driver’s seat and, with a parting wave at his family, set off up the road.

Once he was out of sight, Toto thought it was safe to approach. He wandered up the road, finally catching the eye of Michele and his mother.

Chiara smiled distractedly. “Oh, ciao, Toto,” she said. “I, ah… I’ll leave you both to it, shall I?”

Toto nodded at her and watched as she retreated into the house.

“That was a bit awkward,” he said.

“Don’t worry about it, Toto,” Michele said. “She’ll be okay in day or two.”

“So, your Papà is off on business again?”

“Yeah, for a couple of weeks,” Michele replied. “I’m glad we told them when we did. I can’t imagine waiting another two weeks… or, God, doing it over the phone,” he added with a shudder.

“Yeah, that would pretty much suck.”

“So… what shall we do today, boyfriend?”

Toto met this with something between a cringe and a grin. “That sounds so weird.”

Michele shrugged. “Better get used to it… uh-oh, here comes trouble.”

“Huh?”

Michele gestured with his head and Toto turned to see a familiar blond figure bouncing up the street.

“Oh,” Toto said. “Not today, right?”

Michele nodded. “I guess so. I feel a bit bad about it, though.”

“Me too.”

Daniele ran up to them, wearing orange today, his usual enthusiastic smile upon his face.

“Ciao, guys,” he said.

“Ciao, Dani,” Toto replied.

“How did it go, Michele?” Daniele asked breathlessly. From the eager look in his eyes, Toto could tell that he had been wondering about it all night. That just made it harder, knowing that they were about to let him down.

“It went fine, Dani,” Michele replied. “I mean, it wasn’t easy, but we talked to my parents, and…”

“And?” Daniele prompted impatiently.

“And, well…” Michele turned to Toto, and they exchanged a quick kiss.

For a few seconds, Daniele simply gaped at them, but then his hands flew to his mouth and he was overcome by a fit of the giggles.

“That’s so awesome,” he said, once he had got his breath back, and he lunged forward to give them both a hug. Toto ran an affectionate hand through his soft blond hair.

“Listen, Dani…” Toto said awkwardly, “we can’t really hang out with you today. This is all so new for us; we need a bit of time alone to work it all out.”

Daniele looked crestfallen. “Oh, okay,” he said, his shoulders slumped. “I understand.”

“We’re really sorry, Dani,” Michele added.

“Yeah,” Toto said. “We’ll make it up to you soon, I promise.”

Daniele nodded. “Yeah. Okay. See you later, guys.”

He turned and walked glumly back down the road, blue eyes downcast, hands in his pockets.

“Do you think he believed us when we said we’d see him soon?” Toto asked his friend.

“I don’t know,” Michele replied. “I hope so.”

Toto took his friend by the arm. “Well, let’s prove it tomorrow,” he said. “This is our day today.”

Michele smiled. “Yeah, okay. Let’s go.”

They turned and set off up the road together, their dazzled minds already leaving all other concerns behind.

* * *

Without stopping to discuss where they were going, Toto and Michele instinctively turned off the road at the first hairpin bend and stepped into the little square at San Cosma. The square sat at the bottom of the rugged cliff on which the Villa Cimbrone stood. A small shrine was set into the base of the rocks; Toto and Michele had often met at the shrine for their adventures when they were younger, and they had occasionally seen pilgrims there. Today, however, there was nobody else around, and they had the square to themselves. Toto approached the shrine and fumbled in his pockets for some loose change, tossing it into a pool of water at the back of the little cave.

“For luck,” he said, glancing over his shoulder at Michele, who looked on with his hands in his pockets.

They continued on their way. Unconsciously, they were heading for their favourite olive grove. They wandered on past the church and onto the sun-drenched concrete footpath that followed the base of the cliffs, passing old dwellings built into the rocks. Below them, the land sloped away steeply towards the coast, carefully terraced into plantations of olives, lemons and grape vines, dotted here and there with tall, thin cypress trees. They saw a garden bursting with fiery magenta bougainvillea and walked on past rocks trailing with curtains of morning glory, its deep blue trumpets turned towards the sun.

Toto wondered how he had only just noticed how beautiful it all was. Perhaps it had something to do with being here with Michele with, for the first time, absolutely nothing standing between them. They paused to survey the view, standing shoulder to shoulder against the stone boundary wall. Far below, a scattering of pleasure boats made their way back and forth through the turquoise waters of the coast, shining white in the sunlight.

Toto allowed himself a sideways glance at his friend. Michele was wearing his dark blue shirt with the pattern of small flowers. It was cut well, and hung flatteringly off his figure. He had combined it with a pair of navy blue shorts. Toto himself was back in a vest top and open shirt combo, over a pair of skinny jeans.

“I really like that shirt,” Toto said, his face reddening. “You look… really good in it.”

Michele placed an arm around Toto’s waist, making him flush even more furiously. “You think so?”

“You’d look even better out of it.”

Michele snorted with laughter. “You’re outrageous, Toto.”

“Yeah, and you love it.”

“Oh, I can hardly contain myself.”

Toto smiled slightly. “Now you’re trying too hard to play it cool.”

“Hey, I’m ice cool, didn’t you know?”

“Oh, yeah?” Toto laughed. “Let’s see about that…”

Lunging sideways, Toto grabbed Michele around the chest and began to tickle him furiously. Michele yelped and squirmed until they were wrestling together in the street. Soon, Michele had Toto pinned against the rock wall of the cliff behind him.

“I owe you for that!” he panted.

“Owe me what?” Toto grinned unrepentantly.

“You’ll see,” Michele replied.

Michele released Toto and they continued along the path. Passing the last couple of scattered houses, soon they had reached their favourite olive grove at the mouth of the Valle del Dragone. They scrambled off the path and climbed in among the trees.

Holding hands, they lay down together on the hard-packed earth and dry soil, staring up through the silvery foliage at the blue sky and scattered clouds. The only sound was the cicadas in the trees around them, singing their summer chorus. Toto raised his free hand into the air and moved it slowly around, watching its silhouette against the light.

“This is a dream,” he said. “It has to be.”

“Whatever you say,” Michele replied.

“I mean it. In a few minutes, I’ll wake up in my boring bed at home and none of this will have happened.”

“Would this happen in a dream?”

Michele popped in Toto’s view of the sky, resting on his elbows. He leant down and they exchanged a kiss.

Toto laughed. “Only about a hundred times.”

“Really?” Michele frowned. “That’s not fair. I normally wake up before I get to the good part.”

“Does that mean you’ve been dreaming about me, Michele?”

Michele stretched. “You’ll never know,” he said casually, “because I’m never telling you.”

“Aww… spoilsport.”

Michele lay back down onto the ground. “I dream about lots of things, Toto.”

“Do you ever dream of flying?”

“Sometimes.”

“Me too.”

They lapsed into silence for a while. Toto scanned the silvery canopy above them with his eyes, and then sat up. “I’m going to find you a cicada.”

Michele raised an eyebrow. “Seriously? We haven’t played that game in years.”

Toto nodded. “Just you watch me.”

Toto searched for a suitable olive tree. When he had found one he liked, he considered his best angle of approach and began to scramble up it. Some things, it seemed, you never really forgot how to do.

The cicadas, of course, had stopped their chorus as soon as he started to move. Once he was up in the silvery canopy, he fell very still until, one by one, they started scraping again. Michele watched from below as Toto scanned the canopy, homing in on the sounds.

At last, he saw one: large, brown and cricket-like, it flexed its tymbals busily, making its insistent mating call. Toto reached out carefully, working out how to grab the insect without damaging its veined, membranous wings, and closed his hand gently around it.

“Don’t hurt it,” Michele called anxiously from below.

“Don’t worry,” Toto reassured him. Holding the insect loosely in one hand, he scrambled back down the tree and placed it gently on Michele’s stomach.

“Ah, Toto…!” Michele protested, peering down over his nose as the confused insect began to walk up towards his chest. Toto pressed himself to the ground, following its progress.

“I think it likes you,” he said.

“Take it off,” Michele said.

“You could take your shirt off instead, that would get rid of it,” Toto suggested, reaching for his friend’s buttons.

Michele batted his hand away. “I mean it, Toto,” he laughed, “put it back.”

“Oh, all right.”

Toto plucked the insect off Michele’s shirt and placed it back on the trunk of the nearest tree. They watched as it began to climb slowly back up towards the canopy.

“Life must be so simple if you’re a bug,” Toto said.

“Yeah, eating, mating and then freezing to death in the winter,” Michele replied.

“I’d be okay with two of those things,” Toto suggested.

Michele rolled his eyes. “Of course you would.”

Toto gave him a sideways look. “Wouldn’t you?”

Michele shrugged. “Give me time, Toto.”

Toto lay back down next to Michele, staring at the sky once again. “I could do that. I could give you all the time in the world.”

“What do you mean?” Michele asked, his voice puzzled.

Toto turned towards his friend. “This thing about school,” he said earnestly. “I really don’t think I need to go to university.”

Michele’s brow knotted. “Toto…” he said.

“I mean it,” Toto pressed on. “Back when I thought you were going out with Isabella, Claudia almost had me persuaded, but… now we’re together… all I want is to be with you. I don’t care about school any more.”

“No, Toto!” Michele said forcefully.

Toto sat up, surprised. “What?”

“Don’t you get it?” Michele said, throwing his hands out in frustration. “You can’t just quit, Toto. It’s too important.”

“But…”

Michele shook his head. “No, Toto! You’re smart, you’re talented and you could have a great future. Please don’t let me be the reason you give it all up.”

Toto frowned. “But… I love you…”

Michele nodded. “I know. And I’ll finish with you if you keep talking like that.”

Toto gaped. “That’s not fair, Michele.”

Michele folded his hands behind his head and stared back up at the sky. “Isn’t it?”

“It’s blackmail!”

“Don’t look at it that way, Toto,” Michele sighed. “We’ve just found each other… you’ve no idea how huge that is for me. I want to enjoy it, but I can’t if that’s where it leads to.”

Toto looked down and ran his fingers through a tuft of dry grass. “All right, Michele,” he said. “I hear you.”

Michele stretched out a hand, his expression softening. “Then come back to me.”

Toto took the hand and crawled back over to his friend so that he was looking down upon him. Michele’s brown eyes looked back, and Toto lost himself in them for a moment. He reached up and traced a finger up Michele’s cheek, then ran his hand through his chestnut brown hair.

“You’re so beautiful,” he said.

Michele groaned. “Can’t I be handsome, instead?”

“Would ‘hot’ do?”

“I can live with that,” Michele said. He reached up and placed a hand on the back of Toto’s neck, moving it down to exploring his shoulder blades. “You know, I kinda like you too…”

He pulled Toto down until he had no choice but to collapse on top of him. Toto laughed and made as if to kiss him.

From nowhere, a large drop of water fell onto the back of Toto’s neck with a ‘splash’.

“What…?” Toto gasped, lifting himself off Michele’s chest and staring up into the trees.

A second drop of rain splashed down into Toto’s eyes from a raincloud that had appeared seemingly from nowhere.

“No way…” Michele said, sitting up. “Again?”

Raindrops were starting to fall thick and fast. They scrambled to their feet and slithered back down onto the concrete path. Toto stared at the sky, arms outstretched, and found himself laughing madly.

“Can you believe this?” he cried. “WHY!”

Drops of rainwater were beading in Michele’s hair, and his shirt was flecked with spots of darker blue. He was laughing, too. “We’ve got to get out of here.”

Michele took Toto’s hand and led him back along the path towards San Cosma. Soon they were running together, whooping and laughing amidst the cloudburst. The view of the coast became fuzzy and indistinct through the pouring raindrops.

Bursting back out onto the road, they clattered down the hill and made for the safe refuge of Michele’s house. Michele let them in through the sun terrace.

“Mamma?” he called up the stairs as they entered the lower hallway and took off their rain-splashed shoes and socks; there was no answer. “She must have gone to work. Come on in.”

They stepped into Michele’s room. Toto, soaked through, was starting to shiver now.

“You can’t stay like that,” Michele said. “Strip, Toto.”

Toto flushed at once. “Are you serious, Michele?”

Michele nodded. “Take off those wet clothes.”

“Well, all right…”

Toto shrugged off his sodden shirt, then set to work peeling off his vest top. Michele was also fumbling at his shirt buttons with numbed fingers.

Once Toto had dropped his soaked vest top onto the ceramic tiled floor, he began to feel warmer already. He tugged at his leaden jeans and eventually managed to prise them off, adding them to the pile of wet clothes, which he kicked towards the wall.

Toto looked up and froze, confronted with the sight of his friend standing there in nothing but his underpants and his swift pendant.

“Ah…” he stuttered, “this is…”

Michele came a step closer. “Yeah, kinda weird…”

Toto also found himself creeping forwards, drawn by a kind of invisible force. He extended a finger and traced a line from Michele’s chest down to his stomach; he felt the other boy shiver.

Toto felt a little faint, and his heart was beating a mad tattoo in his chest. “Michele…” he said, “I’m not sure what’s about to happen here.”

Michele reached out and placed a hand on Toto’s bare shoulder. He seemed hypnotised, his eyes unfocused.

“Does it matter?” he whispered.

They lunged for each other. Outside, a pair of swifts flew by, uttering their shrill cries.

* * *

Toto returned home that evening feeling slightly undone, with a peculiar combination of exhaustion and exultation. He fairly bounced up the steps, hair even more tousled than usual, wearing borrowed clothes of Michele’s. His wet things, bundled up in a plastic carrier bag, swayed back and forth at his side.

He still couldn’t quite believe what had just happened.

As he got closer to town, Toto remembered his dinner date with Salvatore. He would have to tell his father about Michele, he realised, before Salvatore heard it from someone else.

As he stepped into the square, Toto caught sight of Claudia. She was sitting at one of the bars, chatting with Angelo over a drink. He kept his head down, hoping to slip past unnoticed.

“Hey, Toto!”

Damn! Ambush… Toto turned back slowly.

Claudia was on her feet, hands on hips. Still seated at the table, Angelo looked on with amused interest, sipping his Lemon Soda.

“Where exactly do you think you’ve been?” she demanded. “Get your backside over here.”

Toto slunk over to the table, feeling every bit the naughty little boy who has been caught with his fingers in the cookie jar.

“Ciao, Claudia,” he said, trying – unsuccessfully – to sound casual.

“You owe me an explanation,” she said, then she frowned. “Isn’t that Michele’s shirt?”

Angelo snorted into his drink and spluttered, wiping the splashes off his face with a paper napkin.

“Yeah,” Toto replied, “we… ah… got wet.”

“And we all know what that means,” Angelo whispered.

Toto flushed. “Come on, guys, give me a break,” he said.

Claudia pursed her lips, considering Toto’s ruffled appearance. “You’ve been making out, haven’t you?” she said offhandedly, then she turned Angelo. “It’s not fair. Why do I never get any action like that?”

“Oh-kayyy…” Angelo replied, wincing. “I didn’t need that mental picture, little sister.”

“Can I go now?” Toto asked. “I really need a shower.”

“Sure thing, Romeo,” Angelo said, winking at Toto and returning to his drink.

Claudia scowled. “All right,” she conceded, “but you and Michele need to bring me up to date as soon as possible.”

“Ah… yeah, sure,” Toto said, backing away slowly. “See you later…”

As soon as it was safe to, he turned and ran, hoping against hope that he wouldn’t run into anybody else.

* * *

To his relief, Toto made it home without having to answer any more embarrassing questions.

He let himself into the apartment, jogged up the stairs and chucked his wet clothes on the floor next to the laundry basket. Stripping off Michele’s borrowed clothes, he folded them up reverently on his bed and made straight for the bathroom.

In the shower, he let the hot water wash over him as he remembered how it had felt to be with Michele. He clutched the memory tightly, basking in it, knowing that – whatever happened in the future – he would always have this.

But this was just the beginning. He hoped that he and his friend would have time to make many more memories together.

Toto sobered up as he washed himself and he remembered that the hour of his dinner with his father was approaching. He scrubbed himself thoroughly, thinking it over.

It’ll be okay. Papà already knows the worst of it.

Still, conversations with Salvatore about such things always tended to be uncomfortable, and Toto didn’t really expect this one to be any better.

At the appointed hour, Toto set out to meet his father, wearing the smart casual clothes he had worn to Gianni’s party. The afternoon sun had burned away the last traces of the earlier cloudburst but, with the coming of the late evening, the air had cooled a little. Locals and visitors were out and active, heading for the square or doing a bit of late shopping at the few shops that were still open. Salvatore’s own store was shuttered and darkened, so he must already have left.

Hands in his pockets, Toto made his way along Via Roma. Reality began to impinge on his consciousness for the first time since that morning, and he remembered Daniele, who had seemed so disappointed to be left out of their plans for the day. He wondered how the younger boy had chosen to pass the time, deprived so abruptly of his new best friends.

Sorry, kid… you were rooting for us both so much, and look where it got you.

Toto doubled down on his determination to make it up to Daniele the next day.

As he rounded the corner next to the cathedral, Toto spotted his father occupying a table at their usual bar. Around him, the lively, sociable buzz of a summer evening in Ravello was in full swing, but Salvatore sat slightly apart from it all. He was alone, so Toto surmised that Marta had probably been unable to come.

For the first time, it occurred to Toto that his father was probably lonely, and he wondered how he had never thought to notice before. He remembered his own jealous reaction when he had first spotted Marta sitting with his father a few weeks ago and felt ashamed of himself.

When’s the last time Papà got to spend time with anyone else outside of the shop?

Toto couldn’t remember a single time, apart from their own occasional meals together. He thought of all the hours he had spent with Michele over the years, or more recently with Gianni, Angelo and Claudia. Through it all, Salvatore had got up each morning and opened his shop, with scarcely a day off and never a holiday.

That’s it, isn’t it? That’s exactly what he doesn’t want for me.

Toto understood why Salvatore wanted him to study, to spread his wings and fly to new possibilities. But despite that, and despite what Michele had said that morning, the idea of a future at home exerted a powerful pull. Toto wanted to fly, but he didn’t want to fly alone.

More humbly than usual, Toto approached his father’s table and took a seat opposite him.

“Ciao, Papà,” he said.

Salvatore seemed pleased to see him. “Buonasera, Toto,” he replied. “How are you?”

“Fine,” Toto replied. “Really great, in fact. How about you?”

Salvatore raised an eyebrow. “Strong words, Toto,” he said. “I’m all right. Thank you for asking.”

“How was…” Toto began, but then he stopped short.

“How was what?” Salvatore enquired.

Toto frowned. “Business. I was going to say business. But that seems to be all I ever ask you about. Shouldn’t there be something… more?”

At this, Salvatore smiled slightly. It was such a rare sight that Toto sat up straighter in his seat, thoroughly diverted.

“In an ideal world, there would be many things we might talk about,” Salvatore replied. “But, in reality, I fear there is little else.”

Toto reached across the table and grasped one of his father’s hands briefly. “I’m sorry, Papà.”

“It’s most unlike you to be so reflective, Toto,” Salvatore said gently. “What’s got into you tonight?”

Toto shrugged. “Maybe I’m growing up a little.”

Salvatore sighed. “Perhaps you are. There’s so much I’ve missed in your life. I don’t know how much I’ve really done to raise you.”

“I’ve done all right,” Toto said. “Around here, everybody plays their part.”

Salvatore nodded. “Even you, it would seem. People talk to their shopkeepers, Toto. I’ve heard how much you and Michele have been helping young Daniele Ferrero.”

“He’s a great kid,” Toto replied, feeling a small stab of guilt again. “He looked like he needed a friend.”

“As you did once, as I recall, only I was too busy being angry to notice,” Salvatore said. “How different things could have been if I’d paid you more attention.”

“I wasn’t alone for long,” Toto said. “Gianni, Angelo and Claudia… they took care of me.”

“Perhaps it’s not too late?” Salvatore mused. “Talk to me, Toto… tell me what’s happening in your world.”

Toto realised there could be no better opening for what he needed to say.

“Well…” he replied, eyes downcast. “There is one thing… something I need to tell you.”

“Go on,” Salvatore said.

“Michele and I… it’s so weird… but it turns out he likes me after all.”

Salvatore exhaled slowly. “I see.”

“And, well, we’re sort of together now,” Toto went on. “I think it’s serious. Is that… is it okay?”

Salvatore sat back in his chair placed his hands in his lap. “I told you once before that this is not the life I would have chosen for you,” he said heavily. “I have to confess, I still struggle to accept it. My heart is full of doubts, but my head… my head tells me that I should be happy for you.”

“Thanks, Papà.”

“And Michele’s parents?” Salvatore asked. “Do they know about this?”

Toto winced, and nodded. “They know. I was there when he told them. It was… really heavy. But I think it’s going to be all right.”

“It’ll be all over town soon, Toto,” Salvatore said. “Are you both prepared for what comes next?”

Toto shrugged. “I’ve been out for a couple of years now… I’ve been there already. The only difference is that, this time, I’ll be able to enjoy it.”

“And Michele?” Salvatore asked. “If you’re saying what I think you are, then this… in a new state of affairs for your friend.”

“I guess,” Toto said, “but he actually faced down Filippo and Enzo. He was amazing. I was so…” he searched for the right word.

“Proud?” Salvatore suggested.

Toto nodded. “That’s it – that’s it exactly!”

Salvatore sighed once more. “Time and again, Toto, you show yourself to be a bigger man than I am. Your openheartedness does you credit. Although we differ in so many ways, I shall try my hardest to be proud of you too.”

Toto felt a tear forming in the corner of his eye, and he rubbed away. All around them, the nightlife of the square went on regardless. Toto and his father sat together, watching the world go by.

* * *

Thirteen years ago

Salvatore Friuli stands in the cemetery at San Martino, his infant son Toto by his side, his small hand curled up in his own. A chilly February rain mists down around them as they look upon the tomb where his wife Gioia has just been laid to rest. Their many well-wishers have come and gone, leaving them standing alone. Salvatore holds back his tears, for it is vital that he remains strong for his son. He will never cry again.

Gioia’s illness was sudden, and Salvatore had little time to prepare himself for her death or explain it in a way that his young son could understand. Even now, he wonders whether Toto really comprehends the permanence of it or whether, in his young mind, he still expects his mother to come home some day as if nothing has happened. Salvatore wonders which would be easier to live with: the truth, or the fantasy.

Salvatore and his wife had dreamt of a brighter future for their family. They had set up the shop together, working as a team, and her intuition had been the perfect complement to his methodical planning. They had planned to grow the business, diversify it, maybe even open a second store in Amalfi or Atrani. Once they were established, they would be able to hire more staff, and maybe a take a step back from the everyday running of the place. Toto would have a fuller family life, taking his rightful place at the centre of their world, and they might even find time to travel and broaden their son’s horizons. But now…

Now, all those grand plans have been consigned to a dream of what might have been. It will take all the strength that Salvatore has left to keep the business going as it is today and provide security for his son. Toto seems to be a bright boy. If Salvatore works hard enough and supports his son’s education, then maybe Toto’s children can go on to have the future that Salvatore and Gioia had originally imagined for their son: a life of opportunity, and a family that works to live, not one that lives to work.

While Salvatore works, the boy will largely have to raise himself. Salvatore hopes he can rely on the rest of the close-knit community to play their part. In Ravello, he believes, no child really needs to be in danger as long as the rest of the town is watching.

The rain is getting heavier. Salvatore tugs his wide-brimmed hat lower down over his ears and pulls young Toto closer, folding the flaps of his long coat protectively around young boy’s tousled head before taking his free hand once more.

“Has Mamma gone to Heaven, Papà?” Toto pipes up.

Perhaps the boy does understand after all… but Salvatore has such doubts. Even now, he cannot bring himself to offer his son a simple, reassuring lie.

“I don’t know, Toto,” he replies.

Toto’s small hand grips his own more tightly. With one last glance at the floral tributes left around the tomb by their many transient well-wishers, Salvatore turns and leads his young son away, back towards their normal life and a future that seems so much smaller today than it once appeared to be.