Chapter 13
13
LAMPWICK
“I t was…you?” The baker, Signore Delluomo, stares at me in shock and horror.
I gulp and clutch my hat. The early morning sunlight makes me feel exposed, like all my truths are coming to light. “Yes,” I say in a soft tone. “I was the one who…started the fire in your bakery.” My pulse rises with the guilt formed in my stomach.
He wipes his hand down his large, round face, and his lips dip into a frown. The rotund man hadn’t recognized me when he was at Geppetto’s the other week with Giovanna, but now he glowers at me. The truth is out there, and I’m ready to pay him back in labor. After all, he is the one I damaged the most as a child.
My awful prank stopped being entertaining about ten seconds after I shoved my schoolbooks into the oven. I can still smell the cinders blazing and hear the man crying ten years later.
“So,” he says. The way he stares me down makes me wish I was back in bed, or that anyone else was here in his bakery. “You’ve come to make amends. The way you’ve been helping people around town.”
My throat goes dry. I nod and say, “Yes. I’d like to work with you. I have no money, but any labor you need, I can provide. For example, I helped clean the gutters of Mrs. Santos, and I can —”
“I’m not Mrs. Santos.” His tone is grave, and I feel about three centimeters tall.
I gulp again and clutch my hat harder. “But if there’s anything I can do…”
He looks down and pulls out a knife from behind the counter. Before I can dash away, he takes out a loaf of bread. Then, he slowly, methodically slices down the loaf. I watch as he cuts at a glacial pace.
“You want to know what I did after that fire?” he asks in a serious, deep tone. “I didn’t eat for days. Because I had lost it all.”
I open my mouth, but no words come out. Guilt grips my throat; not one person in town has taken so long to forgive me, or at the very least, taken their time to put me to work.
“All my food, money, and clothing went to my darling baby girl.” He stares at the slices of bread with intense scrutiny. “I starved and had to start over.”
My eyes sting. “ Signore , I am…so sorry.”
“Fortunately, Geppetto and the other townsfolk loaned me some meals.” He finally looks up from the bread and gazes at me with silent fury and anguish. “You ruined my life for years. You don’t want to work for me. You simply want to quell the guilt in your bones. But you don’t deserve that satisfaction.”
His derisive tone has my cheeks heating up. “You may have everyone else fooled into thinking you’re a good person, but not me. Once a bad kid, always a bad kid. So, no, Lampwick, I don’t want your labor.”
“But…but…” My voice sounds so meek as I stutter.
“I want you out of my life,” he says with a deep tremor. Mr. Delluomo stares at the counter, and his spite radiates off him, not that I blame him. “Stay out of my bakery.”
“But I’d like to help, I can —”
“OUT, I SAY!” He barks and uses the knife to chop down with force. I don’t need to be told twice, and I all but run outside.
Once I’m safely down the block, I catch my breath. Wiping my brow, I take out my list. I cross off the final symbol, my sketch of a croissant, and then put the paper away. Since Mr. Delluomo doesn’t want me to talk to him, the list is over.
This should be a momentous occasion, but it doesn’t feel like an accomplishment. I wish Mr. Delluomo would let me repent, but I don’t want to go back there and trigger his anger. After all, he’s holding a knife.
So, it’s done; I’ve made up with everyone I wronged in this town. Well, everyone who is willing to talk to me. My list is complete, and I can move on from Collodi. But am I ready to say goodbye to everyone I care for here?
* * *
With my morning back to myself, I decide to take a leisurely stroll through town. The center square is still decorated with remnants of last night. Visions of the evening dance come back to me. I see Pinocchio, a shining star, dazzling among the other young folk. I smile and lean on a post with my hands in my pockets. The simple memory takes my breath away.
Then I recall him kissing Giovanna, and my smile fades.
Seeing him kiss her was a vice grip on my heart. After that, I hastily packed the rest of the wares and bolted back to the shop. I needed to be away, needed my space, and needed to breathe.
I massage my neck as the workers start cleaning up the street. All the stress is getting to me, and last night wasn’t exactly a relaxing sleep. Pinocchio’s floor bed is way more comfortable than the living room, but there was no way on Earth I was going to sleep so close to him last night.
Because he kissed a girl, a perfect girl who wants to be with him forever.
Knowing that Pinocchio is on his way to his happy life as a husband didn’t burn as much as seeing it in action. Giovanna is gorgeous, perfect for him, and he deserves that future. It’s a better future than I could ever offer. As Mr. Delluomo said, I’m a bad kid, through and through, and always will be.
This morning I woke up early and asked Geppetto if I could take half the day off to continue my list. He agreed, which led me to that awful confrontation with the baker, and now here I am. I’m avoiding my best friend and any awkward conversations like the coward I am.
I have no one else to work for in this town. Now it’s time to consider getting back on the road to do jobs across Italy. I need to face my future, one with or without my best friend.
When I return to Geppetto my ears had morphed into a brown, pointy, bestial pair. I didn’t know in that moment that this land of vice was slowly turning me into a slave donkey, and that this transformation would lead to some of the worst days of my life, toiling as a animal on a farm.
So, like all kids faced with a bad situation, I ignored it. I hid my ears under my tweed hat and gave chase to my best friend. While the ending on that island was awful, Pinocchio and I had too many good times to forget those memories. He had planted himself into my heart, and when my story would be told, he would surely be a main component.
* * *
The sound of the back door opening grabs my attention, returning me to the present. I avert my gaze to the toy in my hands, knowing exactly who’s walking in. In my periphery, Pinocchio enters, fully dressed and clean. He looks so good after a bath, and I want to breathe in his scent.
“Lampwick,” he says softly.
I can’t take the sincere gleam in his coffee-colored eyes, so I force myself to stare down at the marionette. “Hey, Sticks. Your dad went to church if you’re looking for him.”
“I wasn’t. I was looking for you.”
My skin fizzles when he sits next to me beside the desk. My bones ache from holding back the urge to bury myself in his arms. I want to tell him to forget about Giovanna, forget about the world, and just feel what I feel. But that would be humiliating —on the off chance he’d even entertain the idea of us being together, he deserves more than some vagrant who can’t read.
“Well, I’m busy working,” I say in an even tone.
“I can see that. Why’d you sleep in the living room last night?”
I shrug. “Um…Needed a change of scenery,” I lie with a murmur.
“Ah.” I continue to hyperfocus on threading the strings through the wooden marionette. After a few moments, he decides to power through the silence. “You should know, I didn’t want Giovanna to kiss me last night.”
“Oh,” I say flatly. The relief in my chest is significant, but it doesn’t change our dynamic. My hands tremble, and I hope he doesn’t notice.
“She kind of…forced herself on me.” I glance at him in alarm, but he continues, “But I calmly told her I’m not interested in her like that. And she understood.”
“That’s good to hear.” I go back to avoiding his gaze. “Anyway, I’m sure you’ll find a girlfriend eventually.”
“What’s your problem?!” He sounds hurt, but I simply finish stringing up the puppet.
“Nothing.” I hop off the stool and walk toward the other toys for sale. Pinocchio follows and I avoid his gaze. “Good guys deserve good girls to take care of them. You’ll find one eventually when I’m gone.”
“Gone?!” he yelps.
My hands shake as I place the toy on the shelf. I try to control my breathing while my chest pounds in anxiety. “The list is complete, Sticks.” I turn to see the shock and hurt in his eyes. “Thank you for helping me, but I have no reason to stay here.”
“N-no reason?!” He sputters and glares at me like I slapped him. “Lampwick, what about me, your best friend?”
My eyes sting, and I can’t bear to look at him. “You’ll find a better friend,” I mutter.
“No, I won’t. Where is this coming from? Is this because I was hanging out with Giovanna? I’d rather spend my time with you!”
“No, you don’t.” I try to walk to the door, but he blocks me. The pain in his eyes only makes my heart clench even more.
“Yes, I do! Why wouldn’t I want to spend all my days, for years, working and hanging out with my best friend?”
His words break me, and I clench my fists. “Because I’m a screw-up, Pinocchio. I’m a bad kid all grown up,” I rasp, my voice breaking. I stare off into the distance. “After all these years, please just admit how awful I am.”
“You’re not, though! You’re the best!” He steps forward, and I have no choice but to look at him. His eyes are filled with pain and confusion, and my vision gets blurry. “I don’t want you to leave, Lampwick. You’re a good person and an even better friend.”
His words, beautiful lies that I wish I could accept, snap my soul in half. “A good friend wouldn’t have led you down an awful path!” I bark at the ground. Pinocchio startles, then steps closer. “All I do is take from you and your papa and bring you down. Please stop saying I’m a good person. Not when I’m this…deviant, who needed to beg the town for forgiveness. I have so many sins, too many to count! I can fix things and run errands, but ultimately, I’ll always be the town screw-up who had no choice but to run away!”
My confession hangs heavy in the air and my eyes sting. The hard truth that I’ve been holding back has now been brought to life. He would have realized this eventually, so I need to cut him loose. “I don’t deserve trust, a family, or anyone’s forgiveness, and I certainly don’t deserve you,” I say with a shaky voice.
“Yes, you do,” he replies softly. “You…you mean the world to me, Lampwick. You’re so worthy of everything.”
I scoff and shake my head, tears rolling down my cheek. “That’s not true. I’m wicked, I’m bad, I hurt too many people to be anything but a deviant.”
His eyes well up. “No, you’re none of that.”
I sniff. “You don’t know me that well, Pinocchio.”
“Yes, I do.” His voice sounds so tender, so soft, so pained . He steps closer and I can feel his warmth between us. “You’re the person I care about the most, other than Papa. I don’t…know where these ideas are coming from, but I don’t care. You have never done anything wrong to me, and you don’t need to ask me for forgiveness.”
“Maybe I should,” I mutter.
“Huh?”
Without thinking it over, I grab his face and pull him in. I kiss Pinocchio, hard, right there in the middle of the shop. Tears streak my face, and now they stain his cheeks.
The boy is delicious. His mouth is soft and sweet, warmer than I remember as a kid. He was wooden then, we were both boys, and now we’re both men. I need to savor it, this plundering of lips, because it’s the last time I can have him. I hold his head steady as he struggles to pull off. I breathe in his scent. I massage his mouth, letting my tongue dart past his lips. For the briefest fleeting moment, I swear he kisses me back, but I’m probably imagining it.
This is all too much. This is wrong, so wrong of me to force myself upon him. I pull off and push him back. His brown eyes are wide with shock, but otherwise, he’s frozen.
With my heart pounding in my ears, I take a deep breath. “There,” I say in a croaky, bitter tone. “Do you forgive me for that?”
My best friend is silent, and I hold my breath for three long seconds, waiting for him to say anything. Before Pinocchio can utter a word, the door rings as it opens. An older woman rushes in and glances at me, then my friend. “Pinocchio,” she says, an urgent panic in her voice.
He shakes his head and wipes his mouth while I step back. “ Signora Ricci, is everything alright?”
The woman gulps and looks at me, then at him. The dread in her eyes is undeniable. “Um…no, no it’s not.”
“What’s wrong?”
“I was just at the church, and…it’s your papa.”
My brain goes blank and blood rushes from my face. Pinocchio looks almost as horrified as me. “What…what happened?” He grabs the old woman’s shoulders. “Where…where is he?”
She nods solemnly at me, then at him. “He’s…at the hospital.”