Seven days earlier, Friday, October 23
Tettè lets go of Don Antonio’s hand and climbs into the car. He closes his eyes halfway: the smell of the leather upholstery, the hot motor oil, the gasoline. The roar of the speeding car, the light breeze from the window.
Ciao, amore mio, says his angel. He smiles at her, head over heels in love. He adores every instant that he spends with her, wherever they are, wherever they go. He feels a pang of regret for having left the dog behind, but he knows he understands because he explained it to him: it’s just a matter of minutes, he whispered into the dog’s ear as he petted him, an hour or two at most.
She strokes his hair, he holds the cap in his hand. Where do you want to go? she asks him. Would you like a yummy pastry? Yes, he replies. Yes, of course.
He thinks to himself that the other boys never have moments like this one. They dream of moments like this one. One of the first times he went out, they asked him to tell them about it: come on, you fool of a cacaglio, tell us where you went with Signora Carmen. And he wished he could have told them, but the serpent rose up out of his stomach and he just couldn’t do it; so they beat him up, the twins holding him down and Saverio kicking him in the belly, Amedeo laughing. But Cristiano left the room, so he didn’t have to watch.
Tettè likes Cristiano. He thinks that they could even be friends, if only Tettè were able to talk. Cristiano’s the only one who protects Tettè sometimes, the only one who intervenes.
Ever since that time, whenever they go out together, he asks the angel to let him take something back with him, a pastry, some cookies, a piece of candy. That way he can give it to them, they’ll eat it, and no one will hit him.
All of them seem to hate him, because his angel loves him. But since each of them gets something in return, they seem to leave him be, let him have this thing, and they don’t beat him to a pulp or say something false, something bad to her.
As the car pulls up in front of the pastry shop and comes to a stop, Tettè thinks back to what Nanni, the sexton, said to him. He thinks about this bad thing that’s happening, this secret that he never wanted, and the fact that if his angel ever found out, according to what Nanni told him, she’d never want to see him again.
Tettè could lose everything. He’d even lose the dog, and he’s crazy about that dog, the dog is the only friend he has. But he’d never give up the time he spends with his angel. Never.
Now they’re in the pastry shop, the proprietor bows to them, he entrusts them to the care of a waiter who leads them to a nice little table. The angel asks hims what he wants, and he points to a cream-filled pastry.
He eats, but he doesn’t finish because he can’t eat it all. His angel laughs, she says but how can it be that you’re so hungry, you’re so skinny, and yet you eat like a baby bird. He laughs: like a baby bird! He begs his angel to have them wrap up the half pastry that’s left over so he can take it back to the other boys. She is moved, and full of tenderness she says you’re so good to think of other children less fortunate than you. Tettè thinks: that’s right, and plus that way no one will beat me like a drum at the Festival of Piedigrotta.
He thinks that maybe he can even save a little piece for the dog, but he’ll have to find a new place to hide it, now that they know about the loose brick in the wall.
His angel asks him all the usual questions. How are you? How are they treating you at the parish? Is anyone hurting you? What about the junk seller?
What can Tettè say? Should he risk ruining these moments, so longed for, so dreamt of? Should he speak of the hatred, the mockery, the pranks? Isn’t it better, Tettè thinks, to keep the two lives separate, to enjoy these moments of pure heaven?
No. He shakes his head and smiles. Everything’s all right, my angel.
Everything’s all right, as long as you’re with me.