Chapter 45
LORENZO
“What gave you the sudden idea to take me to the Renaissance Faire?”
We’re both back in the car, on another gorgeous New England day.
“It wasn’t a sudden idea,” I say, putting one arm around Em while using the other to steer the car.
“I had it all planned as part of your birthday extravaganza.”
“Nice to know that I’m that special,” she says, favoring me with a smile.
“Lots of people think you’re special, besides me. There’s Teddy. The kid adores you. That friend you’re always gossiping with. The one you call banana …”
“Oh. Anna. My bestie. And I guess my aunt appreciated me in her own way. We were not close. And almost from the very start, I was the one taking care of both her and Teddy. I planned the grocery lists, shopping for food. But we understood one another.”
I watch as she pauses, as if reliving the moment.
“Even now, after her death, I feel like she’s with me.”
“Telling you to wear your tweeds?” I tease.
“It was never about the tweeds,” says Em, quietly.
Then, as if to turn the topic, she poses a question of her own.
“What about you? It’s easy to see how close you and Dante are. But who else is important in your life?”
“Well, Luca, my baby brother, for sure. But that’s it. When my mom was alive, she ranked above everyone, even Dante. But that was then.”
“What was she like?” Em asks after a few moments.
I hesitate, debating whether I should speak the words.
“A little like you.”
“In what way?”
“A schoolmarm. Solid.”
I speak in a casual tone, playing down the fact I gave Emily the biggest compliment of my life by saying she was like my mother.
Then I swing more roughly than necessary into the dirt parking lot of the old strawberry farm serving as the festival grounds.
“I’m excited about the fare,” Em says, once we get out of the car. “I’m anticipating costumes and fun games,” Emily says, her expression like that of an excited child. You?”
“Me, I’m craving a giant turkey leg and a joust.”
“Do you know what jousting even means?” Emily teases.
“It’s a game like modern day soccer, right?” I retort with a wink.
“Don’t insult my favorite medieval sport!”
“Aha. So the prim New England English Literature major comes out to play. Glad I can make your jousting fantasy come true,” I bow like some 17th century squire.
Whatever a squire is, anyway.
“Have you been to many fairs?” Em asks.
“When I was a kid. Not this Renaissance Faire, but same idea. Overpriced food, laughter, kids running all over the place.”
We walk toward the ticket office but they wave us in.
“I know these tickets must be expensive,” Em says. “How did they wave you through like that?
“Guess I just have that VIP aura,” I say.
“Your arrogance will get you everywhere, it seems.” Emily smiles as she utters this teasing insult.
Before I can retort, a buxom woman in period dress stops us.
“Would you like to rent a costume, you two?”
Emily turns to me with eager eyes.
“Sure. Why not,” I say, as the woman escorts us to her medieval booth near the purveyor stalls.
“Would you like to be a wench or a queen?” the woman asks Emily.
“She’ll be a wench,” I say, slapping her on her ass. “And how about a noble rake costume for me?”
“Quite in keeping with your character, Lorenzo,” says Em.
After I pay the woman, she drapes a velvet gown over Emily’s arms and leads her behind a curtain.
My costume is a bigger production. The woman brings a doublet of deep burgundy with brass buttons, and a cape.
Then she brings me a large sack-shaped garment I haven’t seen before.
“What is this?” I ask the woman.
“It’s a codpiece, sir. For the true Renaissance man.”
She holds it up higher, the bulbous form shifting like a sea cucumber in her grip. “Would you like to try it on over your hose?”
The codpiece looks ridiculous and intimidating at once.
“Sure, why not,” I say. “How do you, uh. Attach it?”
The woman cackles, then hands it to me. “Leather ties on the sides, sir. And if you need assistance, my squire will be by presently.”
“I’m fine on my own,” I say, retreating to the changing room.
Several frustrating minutes later, I emerge with the codpiece finally attached.
“Excellent job,” says the costume woman. Em claps her hands together in glee.
“You two look like genuine Renaissance folk. But you better come back to change into your regular clothes in an hour’s time. If you’re late, there won’t be any clothes to change back into.”
“Ha! She could have told us that before I gave her that enormous deposit,” I say to Em, once the woman’s out of earshot.
“Forget it,” says Emily. Her eyes move with appreciation over the doublet, the cape, and the codpiece I wear.
“The longer I look at you in that costume, the more I realize it fits you. You are the epitome of the conceited dandy …”
“With that, my lady, I challenge you to a joust!”
I take Emily in my arms and kiss her in what I imagine to be a rough, medieval style.
She laughs and we move through the grounds for the next hour, pretending it’s our own estate.
Then we go back to the booth, change into our real-world clothes, and prepare to go back to the hotel.
But the enticing scent of woodsmoke and roasting meat tantalizes us.
“Let’s top off the afternoon with a Renaissance dinner,” Emily suggests, pointing at the rows of food vendors.
“I’ve only read about the types of food people ate back in those days. I’d like to see what it’s like.”
“Me too” I say, leading her through the booths of folks selling candles, leather pouches, and hand-forged rings all laid out on black velvet.
We purchase our food and see a man in a jester’s hat juggling three torches near the jousting field.
“Let’s watch,” I say, guiding Emily toward him.
We settle into the soft grass and watch the juggler, biting into our legs of mutton with our bare teeth. Emily dabs my face when meat juice drips down my chin. And I do the same for her.
We rise and toss our empty plates in the trash.
Then Em stops to watch a glassblower shape something orange and molten at the end of a long iron rod.
That’s when my phone buzzes.
It’s Dante.
His voice is more serious than I’ve ever heard it.
“Emily’s brother,” he says. “He’s been taken.”