«No, no, dummy! Can’t you notice it’s made up? Who do you want to call that!».
«What’s your name then?».
«Letizia, right? But I hate it. I won’t speak to you anymore if you call me that name!».
«Letizia and what else?».
«Letizia Bizzarri».
«I’ve never heard that name».
«Of course no one has heard it! No one remembers that’s my name».
«Where do you come from?».
This time he got an answer: «From your house».
He tried to make sense of those words. «Is it there that we met? Were you a neighbor? Did we play together?».
He could make out he had made a mistake from Lizzi’s expression. «What can you remember from your house?», she asked him.
Mr. Orazio strained his memory again, though memories tended to escape him. «When I was little I lived in Silvestri, a neighborhood almost on the outskirts. It was a box office, I remember, and our apartment was very small. Dad was a worker, he was never home. Mom…».
He stopped, and Lizzi spurred him patiently. «Keep going».
Mr. Orazio shook his head. «I was always alone, I didn’t have friends. The other children avoided me».
«Why?».
«I don’t know. Maybe I was fat. Anymway I was fine like that.
He thought for a while and added: «We can’t be friends. I didn’t have friends. I don’t even remember you, did you really live there?».
Lizzi shook her head. «Not that; your true house. What can you remember from your true house?».
Mr. Orazio frowned. «There are no other houses. I have lived there until I was thirty, then I came to live here. I was more comfortable, near the company I work for. It wasn’t a problem for my parents». He sighed. «They’re dead, many years ago now. First Dad and a couple of years later also Mom».
«Did you love them?».
Strange question, with an equally strange answer. «They were my parents».
«Did they love you?».
Mr. Orazio did not know what to say. Maybe he had never asked himself that. He tried to bring back any pleasant moment spent with his family, any demonstration of love, any holidays together, a Christmas, a birthday, but he didn’t succeed, his mind was empty.
«We do», Lizzi murmured. «We loved you, before you hurt us so badly».
Mr. Orazio froze agape, and was quickly assaulted by unpleasant fears. «Did I hurt you? Who? Both of you?».
His mind gave birth to hallucinatory thoughts. «Are you dead? Are you both dead? Are you ghosts? Was it my fault?».
Luckily for him Lizzi rose snorting. «You didn’t understand anything!». She turned to her friend. «What do we have to do now?».
The red witch moved forward and strolled around the armchair, studying it like a fish in an aquarium.
«I’m not going away», Lizzi stated with resolve. «If he called us that means there’s still something left to do. I’m not giving up».
«Did I call you?», Mr. Orazio murmured. Both of them ignored him. «We have to take him back», Lizzi decided. «We have to make him go back home».
The red witch’s look expressed her complete disappointment.
«I know they won’t be happy at all, but I can’t see any other solution»
The red witch shook her head.
«He’s changed», Lizzi said, without sounding convincing. «I’m sure he has changed».
Mr. Orazio could not intervene, he felt devoid of strength again.
«It’s the only way». Those were Lizzi’s last words. «It’s our only hope».
4
He did not go get the chemo that day.
When Lizzi told him what their destination was, he froze astonished.
A thousand questions crowded his mind. «Why? It’s impossible! I’ve never been there! I don’t even know where it is!».
They had not left. The sun was now high in the sky, and yet their presence continued to be tangible, in his kitchen.
Lizzi had prepared breakfast, then she started baking cookies. They were for the trip, or so she said.
They were very real, their existence could not be denied.
«I’ve never been there!», Mr. Orazio repeated, almost shouting.
It was crazy, those strange girls wanted him to quit work and the treatment, in his condition, to embark on an absurd journey that would take them to the other side of the state, to a lost little town that he had never even heard about.
And even if it existed, since he had checked on a map, it was by the sea. Troppani. 300 inhabitants, the atlas read.
«I’ve never left this city! Never! Not even once in my whole life!».
«So you don’t want to come then?», Lizzi cut him short.
Mr. Orazio had not asked himself that yet. Did he want to follow that absurd dream or did he prefer to remain there and wait for his death? «Do you live there? Have you come from there?».
Both girls nodded.
«And are you real?».
There was no answer to this, his only choice was to believe. He could no longer trust his senses.
«Can I stay alive?», he dared ask. «Can I not die?».
They looked at each other, before answering. The red witch shook her head, whereas Lizzi was more diplomatic. «We don’t know yet. You can do both, it’s a matter of seeing if you’re able».
«Seeing if I’m able?», Mr. Orazio repeated confused.
«Yes, if you truly want to live».
They left two hours later, on the train.
When Mr. Orazio went to buy the tickets was an embarrasing moment; he could not decide how many to buy.
There was little to be said, Lizzi Bizzi and the red witch accompanied him, and were truly a strange trio, so bizarre that would make everyone turn. And yet that did not happen, everyone seemed to ignore them.
Mr. Orazio was still thinking they did not exist, that they were part of his fantasy and that he was the only one who could see them. But, when facing the weary conductor, he preferred to buy three tickets.
They moved to the last wagon, which was almost deserted.
«How did you get here?», he asked, clinging once more to logics. «Has anyone accompanied you?».
He only received two pitiable looks, almost as if he had said something absurd.
When the train started moving, and the die were rolled, Mr. Orazio abandoned that madness. «Do you really think I could heal? How?».
They exchanged the same look, perfectly synchronized. «We didn’t say that. We don’t know».
«Who’s this Mr. Agenore? Can he help me?».
Lizzi kept moving on her seat, uneasy. «He’s wise; the wisest in the world. Maybe he can find a way».
She spied on her friend by her side and added: «As long as he wants to».
«Is there a chance that he will not want to?».
They did not answer.
«Is he a friend of mine? Did I know him?».
The discomfort grew, in the end Lizzi decided to be more explicit. «None of us are your friends. You don’t have any friends».
That did not upset him, he was now used to it. «And yet you told me there was a time you loved me».
Those blue eyes became gelid, pointed straight at him. «It wasn’t my choice».
There was a grudge in her voice and Mr. Orazio understood that they disapproved of him, whatever he had done or thought he had done. «Why have you come then?».
«This wasn’t our choice either. It’s you who called us».
He shook his head. «Why would you have had to come? I don’t remember you».
She answered immediately. «You don’t want to die. Despite everything else you still refuse to die».
They were real.
More or less, something like that. At least he was not the only one that saw them. When the guard came to verify the tickets, Mr. Orazio only gave him one.
He saw him arch an eyebrow, perplexed. «Are these girls with you?».
The fact they were real did not console him at all, though. Rather, it turned that whole story even more unsettling. He was so immersed in mystery that he did not think for one moment of the disease that was devouring him and taking him to his grave. The chemo sessions were now forgotten and his body kept functioning without problems.
He indulged his seat, determined to enjoy the journey.
Trouble began an hour later, when they were still far from the goal.
He had dozed off because of the many agitated nights before, and when he woke up other people had come to sit in that wagon. There was no trace of the girls, but that did not surprise nor depress him: he knew they would return when the time came, he had now grown used to their disappearances.
His peace lasted very little, though, because the guard came to call him. He went inside the compartment and pointed at him immediately. «You! Come with me!».
Poor Mr. Orazio followed him with his heart in his throat.
«These two are yours, I assume!».
During his nap, Lizzi Bizzi and the red witch had gone on a rampage, wreaking havoc in the entire train. Her jokes and teasing had put most of the passengers and the staff on the foot of war. The list of their pranks seemed endless.
Mr. Orazio was flabergasted, he could not understand that behaviour.
«What are you going to do?», the guard asked him.
He did not know what to say, he could no longer pretend he did not know them; on the contrary, he would get in bigger trouble. They giggled, as if they were proud of their work. Girls, they were just girls.
It was not easy finding a solution. He lavished random apologies and promises. He almost got to the point of crawling at their feet. In the end they were confined to a deserted compartment, with the order not to set foot out of there until they arrived.
Mr. Orazio let out a sigh in relief. When he asked the girls what they had done, Lizzi answered him with an angelic smile: «It’s our nature».
5
After so many hours, when the sun was about to set, they reached their destination.
They were forced to switch train, and then travel the last part of the journey on a broken minibus. Mr. Orazio trusted his guides completely. He had not even complained when the minibus left them on a deserted street, in a god-forsaken place.
There, Mr. Orazio saw the sea for the first time.
He was not prepared for that amount of vastness. The images on TV did no justice at all. It was immense, to the point that there was almost no division from the sky, a blue expanse that was just dying of an orange shade.
«Move, we must go. We’re almost there».
It was not easy to take the eyes out of that marvel. Mr. Orazio looked around, searching for signs of life in vain. «Where’s the town?», he asked.
Lizzi shook her head. «We musn’t go to town. Our house is first».
She had said our, and this could have many meanings. Mr. Orazio wanted to ask them more questions, but was constrained to run to keep up with them.
The street was uphill and lead to a steep cliff. They did not find any cars. When they rose, Mr. Orazio suddenly found it in front of him.
Up until then they had called it a house, but it was much more than that. An old mansion, right on the cliff’s edge, with its gabled roofs and marble columns around the entrance. It was a dark and desolated building, taken from a horror film. Only one word to define it came to Mr. Orazio’s mind: forlorn.
He froze. «No, no».
The girls stopped, Lizzi grimaced. «What’s this about? Right now?».
«I’ve never been there! I’m sure of it!».
If it was like that, and Mr. Orazio was sure of it, why did he feel so agitated then? Not even he managed to find an explanation.
Yes, he could! Mr. Orazio had a terrible idea: that things much worse than death existed in the world. And he was sure of having found them. «No, no, I’m leaving».
Lizzi raged. «Stop making up excuses! You owe me this! You owe it to everyone!».
He was not used to being treated like that. When the red witch went to take his hand, he could not resist. They both dragged him towards his destiny.
The house was inhabited.
Even if it looked abandoned and deserted from the outside, this first impression was dispelled as soon as he set foot inside. They furniture was as polished as mirrors and not even one grain of dust could be seen. Soft carpets covered the floors. Every centimeter of the walls was filled with paintings, tapestries and furnishings of a wide variety. There was life in there, so much life.
He had not even walked a step, nor Lizzi had closed the door, that a chilling voice startled him.
«Did you bring him here? How could this have occurred to you?!».
The woman that appeared was the prototype of the housekeeper: masculine dress and a stern look; she looked like a seasoned Mary Poppins. Unfortunately, there was no trace of benevolence in her.
«Did you have another solution?», Lizzi confronted her shamelessly.
The red witch continued holding Mr. Orazio’s hand, maybe to comfort him, but also to prevent him from fleeing.
The housekeeper seemed one the edge of a nervous breakdown. «Why? Why?».
«You know it very well!», Lizzi shouted, and in that moment she did not look like a child at ll. «We have no certainty that we’ll make it without him!».
The woman shook her head, nervous. «It doesn’t matter, I don’t want him here. I don’t want him at all!».
Mr. Orazio found a bit of voice. «Must I go?», he asked, hoping they would tell him to do so.
Lizzi turned to him. «You mustn’t go anywhere! This is your house! It’s all yours, everything that’s inside here!».
«Mine?», the little man repeated, incredulous.
The girls faced the housekeeper, and in the end she surrendered. «Yes, it’s all yours», she admitted. «This is your house. You can do whatever you want».
Then she turned, as rigid as always, and went away.
The girls held his hands again. «Come now. You have to go to your room. You’re very tired, the trip has been tiresome. We’ll talk later».
As if it had been conjured by her words, the pain came back and Mr. Orazio found himself weak again. The imposing flight of wooden stairs that waited yanked a whine from him.
He woke up in that strange room, without remembering how he got there. It was morning and the smell from the sea reached him even with the shutters down.
«You’re better, aren’t you? Coming here worked».
She had appeared again, like a ghost, small Lizzi, and behind her he could glimpse the red witch, who leaned out of the corridor into the room.
No, no miracle had taken place. Mr. Orazio still felt weak and strange cramps gripped his stomach.
«Should it have?», he asked.
Lizzi grimaced. «Maybe it’s too soon. Maybe you have to remember, first».
«Remember what?», he replied, increasingly annoyed. «I don’t know this house, it’s useless that you say it’s mine, I’ve never been here!».
«He’s Bobo», Lizzi announced, in a far too theatrical way.
It should have been a revelation, she was sure of this, but the sight of that child pushed in by force by the red witch did not even provoke the least reaction in Mr. Orazio.
He was puny and thin, also with red hair and covered with freckles, and for a moment Mr. Orazio thought he could be the red witch’s brother. Their similarity ended there, though; they were very different in everything else.
Bobo goggled at him. He took two steps forward, so he could see him better. Mr. Orazio saw his eyes clearly dilate and suddenly filling with tears.
He stepped backwards, shaking his head and putting his hands in front, as if he wanted to expel him. «No, no. I can’t do it! No!».
Lizzi was raging
again. «Stop it Bobo!».
«Haven’t you seen how weak he is?», Bobo squealed. «I can’t do it. Not like this, not in this condition!».
He threw himself out of the room, sobbing, leaving Mr. Orazio flabbergasted. He tried to get out of bed, searching for anything to look at himself. The child’s last words had upset him.
It was not easy standing, he felt increasingly weak. Then he screamed: «What has happened to me?».
Lizzi’s gaze was impenetrable and filled him with fear. «You’re old».
He was not sure he understood. He made one last effort and reached the mirror. The man in the reflection was him, always the same. Not even signs of the disease could be found. He turned around, more confused than ever. «Old?».
«Do you think it was easy for me to see you in this condition?». Lizzi snorted. «And yet I managed, I succeeded nevertheless. Bobo is always exaggerating, he behaves like a child.
«Old?», Mr. Orazio repeated once again, while his mind made strange connections.
«Well, you are not decrepit, but you’re definitely old now».
«Do I know him? Should I know him? Have I met him in the past? Does that child know me?».
Lizzi’s look did not leave room for doubts about all this.
«Does he belong to my past? Which past? I’m old, but… how old? How does he remember me? What was I like when he last saw me?».
He had made the right questions, Lizzi’s discomfort was evident. She slouched her head, before answering. «Eight years. You were eight years old when we last saw you. You were a child, just like us».
And she left him there, she about-turned, grabbed the red witch and both fled.
6
Mr. Orazio was not even that surprised. He now understood that house, and all its inhabitants, they were part of his past. A past he could not remember because of the simple fact that it had never existed. His life had been elsewhere, and he had lived it elsewhere.
Was there anything real in all that? Was that house real? Where its inhabitants real? Was not he living in a dream world? Had not him crossed Alice’s mirror by mistake?
Were they his childhood imaginary friends, that came back to torture him? He did not remember ever having them. But there was no other explanation; if those children had been his friends more than fifty years ago, they had to be ghosts or hallucinations.
Lizzi Bizzi and the Red Witch Page 2
