Date: Sun, 11 Oct 2015 12:25:43 -0700
From: Les Goldsmith <follies71@att.net>
Subject: Echoes From a Wishing Well  Ch 17

To Ritch's readers----Please understand that, in no way, am I Ritch's equal
as a writer.  I am only trying to finish the last thing he started.

"Echoes' was originally planned by Ritch to be a 12-chapter entity, but
apparently requests from his readers caused him to lengthen it and allow
the story to developd beyond that in length.

In trying to finish what he started, I foresee the possibility that,
without making certain allowances, it could grow to an unwieldy size.  I
hope you will allow me to telescope sections of time where necessary in
order to conclude this work in a more reasonable length.

I really don't see a way that I can do otherwise in the time I have left.

For your understanding
My thanks.

           Les



		       'Echoes From a Wishing Well'

				a story by

			     Ritch Christopher

			  Continued by Les Martin


		       <><><><><><><><><><><><><><>

Try as he might, there was no way Trent could concentrate on school work.
'Angio's whole world is crumbling and I'm supposed to be able to think
about make-up and costumes?'

As soon as his first class ended, Trent hurried to the directors' office to
let them know that he was leaving school for the> day.  His closest friend
needed support and support he would get.

Happily, his pronouncement fell on sympathetic ears and he turned and
hurried out into the cold air, headed for his apartment---and Angio.

On arriving there, he discovered that Angio had left to go home to help his
mother. Unsure of whether he should head for Angio's, Trent stopped for a
moment to think.  Could he help Mrs. Marcano in any way or would she feel
he was intruding? He just didn't know, but if he could help Angio get
through this crisis, he felt he had no choice, he'd do anything.

Rather than waste time with more questions that simply had no answers for
him, Trent hopped in a cab and made the trip to be with his love.

Arriving there, he knocked gently on the door and waited a bit before
knocking again, this time a little more loudly.  When the door opened, he
saw Angio's face but a face showing Trent a look he'd never before seen
anywhere---total desperation.

"Ange, I had to leave school for the day, I couldn't stand to be away from
you, especially not today."

Angio nearly fell into his arms, completely in tears.  "Thank God you're
here, Trent!"

"Ange, what is it?  The way you look, it's got to be even worse than I
thought!"

"Trent, what are we gonna do? Mom wants me to go to France> with her!", he
whispered.

"But we knew that, Ange.  You're gonna go to Tuscany to lay your dad's
ashes to rest and then go to Paris to see your Mom's family before you come
back..  Has something else happened?"

"Trent, she says we're gonna stay there, live there permanently!"

"But what about us? And school? Oh, the hell with school!  School doesn't
matter to me if we can't be together!"

"I knew you'd feel that way, love, 'cause I feel that way too, but I don't
know what else we can do. Dad left us with nothing to keep us going! We
won't even be able to stay here in the apartment--we don't have even have
enough for a month's rent!"

"But what about your dad's insurance? That'll help, won't it?"

"If he had left insurance, yeah, but there isn't any---we found the safe is
empty--- Trent, there's nothing!"

Trent wrapped his arms around Angio's shoulders, feeling the sobs that
racked Angio. "Before we have to think about being separated, can we talk
to Daddy Art?  He'll help any way he can.  You know he will."

"But what about my mom? I know I could stay with you, but mom has no way to
support herself here.  She hasn't had a job since she and dad were
married. She wants me to go with her and get a job in Paris to help pay the
bills."  His eyes implored Trent to perform a miracle, to find a way for
them to stay together, but how?

"Let's try to take one thing at a time, Ange.  Can you leave here for a
bit?  We can go home and talk with Daddy Art. There has to be some way---
Please---I can't bear to see you this way!""

Tears stained the faces of both boys now.

Angio looked up and realized that they were still standing in the hallway,
crying inconsolably. "Come on in, Trent.  Let me see how my mom is doing."

With the door closed behind him, Trent entered what had been a house of
unparalleled joy, but had become, overnight, the complete opposite now, a
house of grief.

"Would it be okay if I spoke with your mom?"

"Sure, but I warn you, she's adamant in her decision for us to leave."

Angio led Trent to the door of his parents' bedroom and tapped
gently. "Mom?"

He was answered by a voice completely hollow, devoid of warmth, of
humanity.  "Angio?  Come in."

 "Mom, Trent's here."

"Trent?"---she spoke as though the name was totally unfamiliar to her,
then---"Oh, Trent! Come in and see what complete nothing looks like.
Angio's father, God rest him, has left us out in the cold!"

Trent silently entered the room to find Mrs. Marcano sitting on the side of
the bed, what little make-up she wore smeared by her grief. The room itself
reflected her resignation, her final acceptance of her future.  Packed
cartons took up a great deal of the space in the room. Closet doors were
open revealing emptiness.  Empty drawers yawned from dressers.

"I'm so sorry, Mrs. Marcano, about... about what's happened.  Is there
anything I can do, anything at all, to help?"

"Trent, you're a good boy, but I'm afraid there's nothing anyone can do.
Your Daddy Art, God bless him, has said he will pay for our trip to Europe
with Angio's dad's ashes,, but after that, what?  We'll have to stay with
my family in Paris for some time until I can save enough to get an
apartment for Angio and me.  I don't like being a burden on my brothers,
but what else can we do?"

"Mrs. Marcano, would it be alright if Angio left for a while?  We want to
talk with Daddy Art and see if he can come up with an answer."

"Of course, Trent, but listen to me one moment.  I know you and Angio are
close, but what has to be can't be avoided. Once you talk with your daddy,
you'll see that we have to accept what's happened."

"Mom, don't give up yet!  Let us try to find a way out!"  Angio's demeanor
was that of a desperate child, looking for some way to escape from a
nightmare.

"Go, Angio, go.  I'll still be here when you get back.  Don't forget we
have a lot of packing to do. And a lot of throwing away, too.  My God, half
our lives will be on the street in tomorrow's garbage." And her tears began
again.

With an despairring look at his mom, Angio took Trent's hand and led him
out of the room of sorrow.

"Trent, this can't happen!  I finally find you---I find a reason to live
and I lose it?"

"We'll find a way, Ange---there's got to be a way!  Daddy Art will
straighten all this out for us.  Come on." He touched Angio's hand,
silently wishing his friend's life could instantly change back to what it
had been-----but he knew that was impossible.

"Let's go talk with Daddy Art."

He turned to pick up his coat, only to discover that he'd never taken it
off.  When Angio had put on his jacket, they left the apartment and headed
out into the cold.

Neither spoke on the trip back uptown, but Trent gripped Angio's hand
tightly, trying to lend support, but feeling only the terrifying loneliness
that threatened Angio.

Reaching Trent's, they went inside silently, both hoping for something--
anything-- that would awaken them to find this had been only a bad dream,
but both knew that reality had struck with its irresistable destructive
force.

Art,after having returned from his saddening duties earlier, had a much
clearer ' picture of the problems facing his boys.  Since Angio was still a
minor, he had no say in what happened.  If his mother decided they would go
to France to live, there was nothing to be done.  Or was there?

Apparently the future for the remaining Marcano family hinged on their
finances.  He hoped that Angio would understand that there was little more
Art could do, but he had to learn more before he could even try to offer
some guidance.

 It was at this point that Trent and Angio entered.  They both showed the
strain and the hopelessness that was crushing them. Seeing Art, Trent sat
Angio down in the living room before taking Art's arm and leading him to
the kitchen where they could speak privately.

"Daddy Art, first thing, thank you for all you've done today to help ease
the problems since Angio's dad passed away, but another problem has come up
and we need your help!"

Quietly, Art tried to relax Trent, his calm voice saying, "Trent, what I'm
doing is only what your real father would do for his son, and if there's
anything else I can do, just tell me and I'll work on it for you and for
Angio.  I should tell you that, talking with Mrs.  Marcano this morning, I
told her not to even think about the cost of the trip to Italy and France
to lay her husband's ashes to rest, that I'm taking care of all that for
her ---well, really for you and for Angio."

"Daddy Art, I hadn't even thought about that part, but that's the nicest
thing you could do for her right now.  The money worries are hitting her so
hard." Trent's face showed his appreciation, but his worries still bled
through his relief. "But there's more---they don't have enough money even
to pay for one more month's rent on their apartment and Mrs. Marcano says
they're gonna have to stay in France to live---they're not coming back!"

Now Art knew that his sons were now aware of the full burden that fallen on
them. "Trent, Mrs. Marcano had already mentioned that to me and I was
trying to find a way to tell you.  If she had a job, a job that would pay
her living expenses in Paris if that's where she wants to stay, do you
think she'd allow Angio to come back here?  You know I'd want him to live
here with us, that it'd be his home, just like it's ours. And his tuition
at the school?  Thanks to the show and its reviews, that'll be no problem
at all. Would that help?"

"God, would it ever!  But a job?  Here or in Paris?  And what kind of work
could she do?"

"Trent, I've been so wrapped up in the funeral arrangements, it never
occurred to me to ask what kind of work she'd done in the past!  And how do
I find out?  I don't want her to get the impression that I'm trying to get
out from under paying for what I've already offered to do---what I'm going
to do."

"Well, Angio might know what she's done in the past.  When she and
Mr. Marcano first came to this country, she must have held down some kind
of job.  Why don't we get Ange in here and see if we can get a start on
this?"

With the feeling that a ray of hope might yet be seen, Trent went to ask
Angio to join them in the kitchen, but found his dearest friend had fallen
into a much-needed sleep on the couch.  He knew that sleep might help Angio
adjust to the changed circumstances in his life and that sleep might well
be the best thing for him at the moment.

After dimming the lights, he found a cover to gently place over the person
he loved.

Art and Trent fixed a light supper that night, just enough to warm the
insides of three men. Art knew that Mrs. Marcano was planning on flying to
France in the next day or so and had learned from Angio that their
passports had been kept up-to-date, since his mom had always fostered a
dream of taking her son to meet his relatives in the 'City of Light'.

As the three ate silently, smothered by their gloom, the white tile floor
and the stainless steel kitchen seemed almost out of place as a result of
their brightness.  Conversation between the three was somewhat strained
while they tried to eat.

Neither Trent nor Art could decide how fragile Angio's emotions were at
this point. After supper, Angio asked Trent what his plans were for this
evening.  He didn't want to leave his mother alone in their apartment, not
this night of all nights.

In reply, Trent wondered if it would be acceptable for him to spend the
night with Angio at his mother's apartment.

The idea seemed to perk up Angio's feelings, since he realized that, as a
continental woman, his mother would find a way to rouse herself when faced
with the prospect of being a hostess with a guest, even a guest as regular
as Trent had been. Her Parisian instincts demanded that she respect her
position as hostess, in spite of the situation.

When they proposed this plan to Art, he immediately saw that it might aid
the widow in restoring a small degree of control, of normalcy, to her
shattered life and immediately agreed to the idea.

Donning outerwear, they took a taxi to Angio's home and, after seeing
Mrs. Marcano and getting her approval of the arrangement, Trent asked if
she might be able to eat a bit of supper.  At that juncture, she realized
that she hadn't eaten at all since her husband's sad end.  Even though she
knew she'd feel guilty eating without her lifemate, she also recognized the
necessity of maintaining life for what remained of her family.

Trent, with a sigh of relief, said that he'd order food to be delivered for
them, knowing that he and Angio would be expected to have a bite with his
mother, if only to help her relax a bit.  He didn't think he'd be able to
eat a thing after just having eaten at home, but he hoped that Angio's
perpetual appetite would get them through the small meal.

On that note, Angio saw his mother, the woman he had always known, begin to
emerge from the emotional darkness that had enveloped her.

"Don't be silly, Trent," she said. "I can fix us each a small plate, that
is, if you both will join me for a bite?"

Trent's eyes met Angio's and both wordlessly agreed that they couldn't have
done anything better than to help Angio's mother regain her place in the
household for tonight, regardless of what tomorrow migh bring.

Not having mentioned that they'd already eaten a small meal at Art's, they
dutifully sat with Angio's mother to nibble a bit, just to encourage her to
eat something and to find again part of her place in life.

During the meal, all three studiously avoided looking at what had always
been Angio's father's seat at the table.  It had been an agonizing day for
the widow.  She had done what she could to adjust to her new sad status.

Packing for the forthcoming trip had helped a small bit, but each time she
was forced to remember why this trip had to be made, It reopened the wound.
Knowing that the decision she'd been forced to make would shatter her son's
world, still she knew it had to be. The torture she'd undergone had brought
her almost to the point of collapse time and time again, but she hadn't
dared try sleeping.  She knew the dreams that would come to haunt her.
This is what her day had been, but now, with her son in the house with her,
maybe she would be able to get some rest.

Angio and Trent insisted that they'd take care of the dishes used in the
small meal, if she'd just lie down for a bit. She accepted gracefully and
gratefully, aware that the next couple of days would require all the
strength she could muster.

When she had left the kitchen, just as they had promised, the two young men
cleared the table and hand-washed the dishes, putting them in the rack to
dry.

With that finished, nothing remained to delay the conversation both knew
was coming. Without either of them speaking a word, they headed for Angio's
room, the room that had often witnessed their devotion to each other.

Wordlessly, they removed most of their clothing before sitting side by side
on the edge of the bed.

 Angio had a haunted look to his face as he contemplated the dire future
his father's passing had presented.

Knowing how distraught Angio was, Trent simply sat as close to his lover as
he could and wrapped his arm around Angio's shoulders.  "Ange, don't give
up.  Daddy Art is working on our side and he'll find a way--I know he
will."

Angio turned his head slowly to meet Trent's eyes and tried his best to
smile a little, but his effort wasn't very successful.

As he lay down on the bed, he drew Trent down beside him, placing his head
against Trent's.  "Let's pray that he can, Trent. I love you--I love you
and I can't lose you."

Reaching toward the nightstand, he turned the light off. He reached for
Trent's face with his fingers and traced his lover's lips.


<><><><><><><><><><><><><<><><>

Their morning began early when they both awoke having slept only fitfully,
only to remember the horror of the previous day.

The empty cartons remained on the floor in Angio's room, a mute reminder of
the bleak future that threatened them both.

Neither stirred, though each sensed that the other was awake. Then Trent
moved his arm slowly until he felt Angio's hand.  Gripping it, he said
quietly, "I love you, Angio, and we'll get through this somehow."

Angio turned his head to press his lips against Trent's forehead. "I hope
Daddy Art can find a way Trent.  You mean the world to me.  It doesn't
matter whether I ever set foot on a stage again, just as long as can be
with you."

With that, they started another day---their last day?

ADDENDUM:

Ritch passed away, but if any of his readers would like to comment, please
contact me at follies71@att.net