Epilogue
Paolo
San Francisco, 1996
T he heavy clang of a bell echoed in the distance, reverberating through the salty mist. On the corner of Hyde and Beach Street, a man looked down at the tiny boy who gripped his hand, tighter now in anticipation of the trolley coming up the hill.
The young boy’s hair was tossed from the breeze off the bay, and smears of finger paint stained the front of his crisp, white tee shirt.
“Do you hear the bell, Piccolo ?” Paolo asked.
His son’s face turned up, the familiar golden shimmer in his eyes twinkling as he nodded earnestly.
The trolley scraped along, a group of tourists clicking their camera flashes. Usually, when Enzo asked to ride the trolley, Paolo would playfully scoff at him.
“The trolley is for tourists,” he would say, Americanizing his Italian accent. “You, my boy, are a native San Franciscan.”
Enzo gripped his father’s palm with one hand and the leather strap tied to the rail with his other. He insisted he ride while standing, “like a real rider.” The boy pointed excitedly every time he saw someone pull the chain for a stop, wondering who would get off.
They arrived at the wharf just before the sun dipped down into the bay, as the sunlight bent through the settling fog. Paolo scooped his son up by the arms, perching him atop his shoulders to afford him a better view of the boats.
“When I’m growed up, I’m going to drive the boats, Papa.”
Paolo took in a heavy breath, pushing back a bitter ache. The boy had such innocent wonder for a future that was so cursed. He swung his son’s legs over his shoulder, resting the boy on a nearby bench.
“Enzo, I wanted to have a special night together, just you and me. Because tomorrow, I’m going on a trip.”
“But Papa, tomorrow is the first-grade concert!” His little fists clenched up, tears welling in his eyes.
“ Certo, Picolino!” He gripped his son’s shoulder. “I wouldn’t miss that for the world. I’ll leave tomorrow afternoon, after the concert. Tonight, we eat ramen, and tomorrow we’ll have ice cream to celebrate before I leave.”
Enzo smiled through his tears, his grin punctuated by a gap from a lost tooth. “Are you taking a trip in your airplane?”
“ Si, volare ,” his father nodded. “I’m flying because I’m going very far away this time.”
The boy nodded back in understanding before resting his head on the rail, gazing out at the boats. Dusk was settling upon them as the foghorn beckoned the last sailors to shore.
“When the sun is going down to the ocean, it’s bright on the top and dark on the bottom. I can’t tell if the water is blue or black,” the boy mused.
The man gripped the rail. “ Si , there is energy all around us. The energy from the sun warms the water, but the energy from the water is heavy and deep. The light can’t reach all of it. At the bottom of the ocean, there’s no light at all, even at the height of the day.”
Enzo squinted down at the water, as if trying to see whatever light was left. “Just like the sky with nighttime,” he said, trailing his fingers along the rail.
Paolo chuckled. “Exactly,” he continued. “It’s like that with the water and the sky, but it’s that way with everything. Everyone and everything, deep inside of them, has darkness and light. Even people,” he said slowly and carefully. “Do you understand? All of us have the power to choose what we are, son. We can choose to be illuminated by the light, or we can choose to be swallowed by the darkness.”
The young boy tilted his head. “Papa, it kind of looks the most beautiful at this time of day. You know? When it’s both.”
“Both like what?”
“Both light and dark.”
He nodded at his son, agreeing with him as he looked out over the water. The little boy was right, after all. A chill ran over his skin as the wind picked up from the bay, chasing away the last wisps of fog.
“Are you ready for ramen, mio caro? ” The boy nodded excitedly, leaping up from the bench. As he ran ahead, he spread out his arms as though he were an airplane, tipping them from side to side as he soared through an imaginary sky.
Enzo’s story is just beginning! Stay tuned for A Vision of Lights , coming soon.