Read The Story of the Lost Child for Free Online Page B

mayor whom he called respectable, likable, a stranger to the usual old corruption. He concluded: now at last there are good reasons to live and work here, this is a great opportunity, we have to be part of it. But Lila made sarcastic comments about everything he said. Naples, she said, is disgusting, exactly as it was before, and if you’re not teaching the monarchists, fascists, and Christian Democrats a good lesson for all the filthy things they’ve done, if you just forget about it, as the left is doing, soon the shopkeepers—she laughed a little harshly after saying the word—will take back the city, along with the city bureaucracy, the lawyers, the accountants, the banks, and the Camorrists. I was quickly forced to realize that even at the center of that discussion they had put me. They both wanted me to return to Naples, but each was openly intent on detaching me from the influence of the other and was urging me to move to the city that each was imagining: Nino’s was at peace and heading toward good government; Lila’s was taking revenge on all the predators, it didn’t give a damn about Communists and socialists, it was starting over from zero.
    I studied them the whole time. It struck me that, the more complex the themes that emerged in the conversation, the more Lila tended to unfold her secret Italian, which I knew she was capable of but which on that occasion astonished me, because every sentence demonstrated that she was more cultured than she wished to appear. As for Nino, who was usually brilliant, self-confident, he chose his words warily, and at times seemed intimidated. They’re both uneasy, I thought. In the past they exposed themselves to each other openly and now they’re ashamed of having done so. What is happening at this moment? Are they deceiving me? Are they really fighting over me or are they only trying to keep their old attraction under control? I purposely gave signs of impatience. Lila noticed, she got up and disappeared as if to go to the bathroom. I didn’t say a word, I was afraid of seeming aggressive toward Nino, and he, too, was silent. When Lila returned, she exclaimed cheerfully:
    “Come on, it’s time, let’s go see Gennaro.”
    “We can’t,” I said, “we have an engagement.”
    “My son is really fond of you, he’ll be disappointed.”
    “Say hello from me, tell him I love him, too.”
    “I have an appointment in Piazza dei Martiri: it’s just ten minutes, we’ll say hello to Alfonso and then you’ll go.”
    I stared at her, she suddenly narrowed her eyes as if to hide them. Was that her plan, then? She wanted to take Nino to the Solaras’ old shoe store, take him back to the place where, for almost a year, they had been secret lovers?
    I answered with a half smile: No, I’m sorry, we really have to run. And I glanced at Nino, who immediately gestured to the waiter, to pay. Lila said: I’ve already done it, and while he protested she turned to me again, insisting in a cajoling tone:
    “Gennaro isn’t coming by himself, Enzo’s bringing him. And someone else is coming with them, someone who’s dying to see you, it would really be terrible if you left without seeing him.”
    The person was Antonio Cappuccio, my teenage boyfriend, whom the Solaras, after the murder of their mother, had swiftly recalled from Germany.

9.
    Lila told me that Antonio had come by himself for Manuela’s funeral, so thin that he was almost unrecognizable. Within a few days he had rented a place near Melina, who lived with Stefano and Ada, and had sent for his German wife and three children. It was true, then, that he was married, it was true that he had children. Separate segments of life came together in my head. Antonio was an important part of the world I came from, Lila’s words about him diminished the weight of the morning: I felt lighter. I whispered to Nino: Just a few minutes, all right? He shrugged his shoulders and we set off toward Piazza dei Martiri.
    All the way, as