Chapter 4
4
PINOCCHIO
TEN YEARS AGO
I ’m up early to get ready to go to school. I’m not used to using the bathroom, putting on clothes, and styling my hair. Being a human takes a lot of self-care, but I couldn’t be happier to not be a puppet anymore. Today, Lampwick and I are going back to school, and I’m thrilled. All our fifth-grade classmates miss us, I’m sure. Well, actually, they may not like me—no one else wants to be friends with the wooden boy—but surely they wonder where we’ve gone, right?
I whistle a little tune as I feed the goldfish. It’s dark out still, but I need to do my chores before I leave. Looking around our tiny home, I notice Lampwick is nowhere to be found. Huh .
When I walk outside, I peer through the darkness. Since the sun isn’t up yet, the streetlamps are still flickering. To my far left, I spot Papa and Lampwick by a stagecoach. Some men are putting boxes onto the back and hooking up a horse to the harness. A few feet in front, Papa kneels to talk to my friend holding a knapsack.
I approach them and ask, “What’s going on?” Lampwick glances at me but doesn’t react. “We’re gonna be late for school.”
Papa stands up and nods dolefully. “I’ll let you boys say goodbye in peace.”
He walks away and fear sinks into my gut. “Goodbye?!” I yelp.
Lampwick, with a tired frown, turns around at the stagecoach, then back to me. “I’m not going with you to school, Sticks.”
I huff quickly. “What? Why not?”
My friend swallows and looks off into the distance. The sun is beginning to rise, and the men are done packing the stagecoach. “I’m leaving.”
“But…but…what about school? We were gonna see our classmates.” I’m sure my squeaky voice is trembling but I don’t care. It feels like my heart is falling to my feet.
“They might be our classmates, Sticks, but I never fit in here. I was never good at school.” He hooks his thumb back to the coach. “I’m gonna get started working. Go down the countryside, find an honest trade at a mine or with a railroad. My papa’s cousin promised to get me a job. He’ll be helping me find my way.”
“Lampwick…”
“I’m sorry, but I need a fresh start. These past few months have been amazing with you two, but…” His words trail off and he refuses to look at me.
I frown, and my eyes prickle. Boys don’t cry, but this hurts. “But…I just got you back,” I say quietly. When I wipe my eyes, Lampwick stares at me, his green eyes filled with hurt. Before I can say more, he drops his knapsack.
The next thing I know, he’s holding me.
“I will see you again, Pinocchio,” he whispers in my ear. With a heavy heart, I hug him back. Boys aren’t supposed to embrace either, but he’s my Lampwick. He’s my best friend; we shared so many secrets and intimate moments together. Holding him makes me feel like I can accomplish anything. I saved him, and letting him go feels wrong.
But he was never my official family, no matter how much I wanted him to be. He needs to take the second chance the Fairy gave him.
“ Andiamo !” one of the men in the stagecoach hollers.
“You’ll always be welcome here, Lampwick,” I say quietly.
“Thanks. For everything. Stay wonderful, Pinocchio.” I can hear his smile, his face a hair’s length from my ear.
I nod and breathe him in one last time. After a moment, I let him go, his blazing orange hair shining in the sunrise. Knapsack in hand, he hops up and onto the coach. I hear the crack of the harness, and the horse begins to trot forward.
As they ride off into the rising sun, Papa stands beside me, holding our kitty and the goldfish in her bowl. I hug his side, grateful for my little family. I wave Lampwick off, the only other person I ever cared for. I pray to the stars he’s safe, honest, and true for the rest of his days.
* * *
TODAY
I unlock the back door of the shop with one hand while juggling a basket of bread and cheese in the other. While most mornings I like to wake up late as Papa takes the first shift, today I just couldn’t stay asleep. Lampwick’s first day working for us has me buzzing with excitement. So, after pouring out some food for Arpeggio, I put on my nicest work clothes and grabbed breakfast for us all. I hope Lampwick likes cheese on toast.
“So I was thinking, Papa,” I say, walking through the back room. “When Lampwick gets here we could orient him to the shop. You know, tools and such. Safety first. Then we could get him started on cleaning duty. That is, after we have breakfast. Oh boy, I can’t wait for him to show up! What time do you think…?”
“Ahem.” Papa clears his throat, and I look up at him. He points, and, to my surprise, Lampwick is standing there. He’s holding a broom and dons the same outfit as yesterday. Huh .
“ Buongiorno ,” he says with a shy smile.
“Lampwick!” I’ll never get tired of seeing my childhood friend as an adult, standing here in my shop. His mere presence makes my world make more sense. I tap his shoulder and reply, “Good morning! So early.”
“Yes, well, your dad was kind enough to let me in to get started on work immediately. Cleaning and such.”
“I’ll say!” I reply, gazing around. The storefront is impeccably tidy, with the clocks and counters completely devoid of dust. “You did a good job. The place looks spotless.” I raise the basket of food up to him.
“I am here to work.” He gives me a friendly smile and takes the basket from my hands. “Speaking of which, Geppetto, would the two of you like to sit down and eat?”
Papa chuckles and takes the basket out of his hands. “I can eat at the desk. Work is to be done, and Pinocchio, you’re taking the evening shift.” He points at me. I nod and lean on a table.
“I can be there for that too,” Lampwick replies, putting away the broom. “If you need me.”
“I’m good at night. Papa could use the day help.” I look around. “Obviously you have the cleaning part down, which will help me in the evening.” I swipe one of our display clocks, and my fingers have nary a speck of dust.
“I’m good on my own.” Papa takes a bite of bread and cheese. “I’m old, not dead!” We laugh as he chews, and my heart warms at the sight of seeing my friend and my father, working together after all these years.
After a moment, the door chimes, signaling the entrance of a customer. What appears to be a young couple meanders in. Their clothes look high end, so I’m guessing they’re tourists. In my experience, they’re a likely sale for a marionette or clock, so Papa needs to be extra cordial.
“Come, Lampwick,” Papa says. “I’ll show you how to chat with the customers and ring them up.” He pats my friend who seems to be hanging on Papa’s every word.
“Hey, we’ll hang out after lunch?” I ask. Papa goes to the young couple, while my friend stays back.
“Um, I can’t.” He bites his lip and gazes around.
“Why not?”
“Since you don’t need me in the evening shift, I was going to go…do some errands in town.”
Disappointment blooms in my chest. He’s been in town for less than a day, and he already has plans without me? “Ah. Well if you need to…” My shoulders slump as I take a step back.
“But listen, probably tomorrow we can hang out?”
“Really? After work?” I ask with a smile.
“Yes, of course.” He taps my shoulder, and the simple contact warms my heart. I never got close to anyone at school— being a wooden boy made me an outcast— and even now, I have no interest in dating or hugging anyone. But Lampwick has always been the exception. “We can chat, I promise. I just have lots to do.”
“Alright,” I reply, nodding.
“But helping you and your papa is my number one priority. You’re my friend, after all.” He winks at me, and I can’t help but smile.
“Promise?”
“Of course, Sticks.” He points to behind him where Papa is showing off a marionette. “But I do need to learn how to help the customers.”
“Go.” I nod and back away, allowing my friend to run off. He’s trying to find his place in town, and I have no doubt being my friend again is part of that.
The next day, I sleep in, so I barely get to see my best friend in the morning. By the time I come by the shop, he’s engrossed in learning from Papa how to paint the clocks. He gives me a feeble greeting before stating he has to run off. I want to be upset, but he insists we’ll hang out after sundown, so I have no choice but to give him the benefit of the doubt.
That doubt morphs into something else hours later. The evening lamps are on, and I’m strolling through the uptown area amongst the fine garment stores. I don’t usually have time off, but noticing my friend’s shabby clothes reminded me that I haven’t updated my wardrobe in some time. I could buy new threads, and maybe throw in something for Lampwick. My quest to find a new hat is interrupted by a familiar figure on a ladder by a storefront.
“Lampwick?” I ask to myself. The boy on my mind appears to be removing leaves and trash from a gutter above one of the stores. My best friend’s face scrunches up as he piles gunk into the sack, no doubt reeling from the gross smell.
“Lampwick?!” I holler.
He looks down and nearly stumbles in shock. Before I can freak out, he leaps down, landing like an athlete. His agility is admirable.
“Don’t scare me like that, Sticks!” he says, catching his breath.
“Why are you cleaning Mrs. Santos’s storefront?”
“She needed the help.” He stares at his hand in disgust, then wipes his palm on his vest.
“But I thought you were working for us.” I take out a handkerchief and wipe his fingers. “Does Papa not pay you enough? I can ask him to give you a raise. We can—”
“No, Sticks.” He laughs and shakes his hand away. “I couldn’t ask for that. Besides, your papa is paying me more than enough.”
“Then why are you working here?”
“He’s volunteering.” Mrs. Santos walks out front, hobbling with her cane. While I’ve never had a full conversation with her, I know she’s not the friendliest. Still, even in her age, no one makes a more elaborate dress than her.
She picks up the sack of garbage and saunters off. “Consider your debt repaid. Grazie , young man.”
“Debt?” I ask.
Lampwick exudes discomfort as he looks around. “Can we…talk about this somewhere else?”
“Sure.”
The two of us walk down the winding streets until we end up closer to town square. The massive plaza houses several restaurants, as well as a statue of a man — the founder of the town — in the center, all brilliantly lit up with the new electrical lights. The two of us together, hanging out as adults, feels right in a way I’m not familiar with. Maybe, I’m deprived of true friendship, but being near Lampwick makes my soul feel content.
Without saying much, we sit at an all-night café. I know all the neighbors, and I memorized the menu years ago. Still, my buddy might not remember, so I slip him the green parchment with coffee listings.
“Read anything you like?”
He bites his lip and scrutinizes the menu. “Um, I’m not sure. What are you getting?”
“I’m boring, I go for black tea.”
“I’ll have the same,” he replies quickly, pushing the paper toward me.
After I order from the counter, we sit and wait at the wooden table. I can almost count the faint freckles over his nose. The glow of the lightbulbs brightens his hair so it’s almost as orange as when we were kids. I miss how close we were, and now it’s as though he’s keeping secrets.
I clear my throat. “What’s going on, Lampwick?”
“Nothing,” he says, fidgeting. He doesn’t make eye contact, and I know what that means.
“I learned a long time ago not to lie.”
He bristles and looks down at his hands. “It’s not a lie. I just…need to do stuff in town.”
“What kind of stuff? Maybe I can help.”
“You can’t,” he says.
“Why not?”
“Because it’s my sins I need to repay for!” he whispers, almost a hiss.
“Huh?”
The waiter arrives with our teacups and promptly leaves us again. I sip the hot liquid, smacking my lips. “What sins?”
“All the bad things I did,” he murmurs into his drink.
“To Mrs. Santos?”
“I broke her window in third grade.”
“Oh.” I bite my lip. I’d always thought his stories of property destruction were funny; I hadn’t realized they had real consequences.
“Exactly.” He looks me in the eyes with a serious, solemn expression. “My childhood was bad, but that doesn’t excuse the fucked-up stuff I did.”
I nod. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
He scoffs and leans back. “It’s embarrassing, Sticks. To remind you how awful I am.”
“You’re not awful. You’re great. An amazing friend.”
He momentarily freezes, trying to digest my words. We both take a sip and listen to the bustle of the town square. “I haven’t been in town two days yet,” he says quietly. “You don’t know that I’m a good person.”
“Of course I do! And I’m a great judge of character, just ask my conscience!”
I manage a wry smile from him but only for a moment. “I caused so much damage, so much pain. I gotta make things right. This is my responsibility, not yours.”
“But I wanna help.”
He nods and takes a long gulp of tea. I find myself transfixed at the way his long neck swallows. Huh . Not sure what that was about. “You and your papa have done more for me than anyone. If it were up to me, I wouldn’t be taking any money from you at all. I have a list of people to repay, and you two will always have a spot on the list.”
I nod. “I get it, Lampwick. You have people to pay back, forgiveness to earn. I just…” I scratch my eyebrow and look out at the darkened plaza. “I guess I wish we could hang out like the old days.”
When I turn to him, his brilliant grin makes my heart beat faster for reasons unknown. “The old days…but maybe with less broken glass and turning to ass.”
With that, we’re both cracking up under the glow of the lightbulbs. In this moment, my best friend is back. A decade later, Lampwick is the only one who can make me laugh this hard.
After a minute, we calm down and nurse our drinks. Lampwick wipes his face and says, “Seriously, Sticks, you’ve helped me more times than I can count. Time for me to pay it back. I’m a man now, the new and improved Lampwick.”
You truly are all man . My pulse quickens as I take in his long, muscular neck and defined chin. I gaze into his green eyes, and the words almost slip out. But boys―no, men aren’t supposed to say that about other men. So, instead, I remark, “I like the old and the new Lampwick. You don’t have to be anyone but you.”
His smile drops and he freezes for a moment, like he wants to say something important. Instead, he pushes his hand out, and after a beat, I reach out and shake it. “Thank, Sticks. For being a friend.”
“I’ll always be there for you.” And I hope he knows I truly mean it.