Thief!

In a small town in Italy there once lived two boys. Every day you could see them trotting along the dusty streets together, climbing the olive trees or rattling sticks along the railings of the fence by the old church. They had always been friends, those two, though they were as different as night and day. Guido was small and nimble, quick-thinking and talkative. Lance was the quiet one, tall and tongue-tied, slow and thoughtful.

Slipping into the orchard in the late summer sun, it was Guido who would climb up to the highest branches, reaching for the best apples, dropping one down to share with his friend and pocketing the other. Then off they'd go, Guido chattering, and Lance walking beside him, listening.

They would pause at the bridge, looking down at the rushing water below. "I wonder where this goes?" Guido mused. "Maybe I'll go and find out! What about you?"

Lance shrugged and looked out over the sunny fields. "I suppose I'll always live here."

Guido laughed. "Not me! I'm going to go see the world!" But they swore they would be friends all their lives, and tossed a pebble into the water to seal the promise.

They were so different, those two. In school Guido was the clever one, always earning praise from his teachers, while Lance was scolded for his smudged work and his stammering answers. Guido would look down at his desk, embarrassed for his friend. But at home, it was Guido who had the heavier burden: empty cupboards, a mother long dead, and a father who drank too much. Lance's father was a solid tradesman, sitting on the town council. All too often Lance, seeing his friend's meager bread and cheese at school, shared his lunch, shrugging off his thanks with a smile.

Then came the day it all changed.

One morning they were lingering in the market, wandering from stall to stall. They stopped together to look at a bin of bright new apples displayed proudly in the sunshine. Matteo the apple seller was boasting to a listening crowd, "Look at these! All the way from Corfu - a brand new kind of apple! They call it the Emperor!" Guido and Lance stood together, watching. Guido's stomach growled. There had been no food that morning; his drunken father had spent his pay in the tavern the night before. All eyes were on the seller. Without thinking, he reached a hand out, plucked an apple from the bin and dropped it into his school bag. But he missed, and it fell with a thump onto the floor, rolling over to land by Lance's feet.

Everyone turned to stare at the boys, then at the ground. Silence fell.

"Who stole that? One of my good apples!" Matteo was shaking with fury. "You, Lance, what are you doing?" He called to Lance's father. "Did you see that? Your son is a thief!"

The father strode over and shook his son, his face flushed with anger. Lance bit his lip, glancing at his friend and then at the ground. Guido, shaking, backed slowly away and slipped into the crowd.

The next day in school as the teacher was handing out the books, he sneered as he handed one to Lance. "Make sure you give it back when you're done. I've heard about you!" The children snickered. Lance looked over at Guido, and he looked away. They never spoke of it, but from that day on they were never seen walking together again.

Thief. That became Lance's name, his burning shame, the whisper behind him as he passed. After that day in the market, suspicion dogged his steps. It was everywhere - in Matteo's loud complaints as he passed him in the market and in his mother's reproachful glances. His father condemned him and closed his heart to him. The neighbors turned away as he walked by.

He never blamed his former friend, never spoke out or accused him. Why even try? He would stammer and blush, like he always did. People would scoff. No one would believe him. So the words stuck in his throat, unsaid, and he shut Guido out - shut out everyone, from that day on.

He left the town he loved when the war broke out, trying desperately to prove himself in the trenches. His whole life became a struggle to hold his head high. Every step he took from that day was spurred forward by the moment that apple hit the ground.

And what of Guido? His name, whispered only in his own heart, became 'coward'. Why didn't I confess? he'd wonder in the night. I should have said something!  His shame at his silence festered. He served in the war, but never proved himself, for all his bragging. He returned home and set up a shop. Over the years he became known as a clever businessman, always driving a hard bargain. But sitting in the tavern with his rowdy friends, he often thought of his quiet companion. His cheeks would flush, and he would call for another drink.

The years slipped by; his feet began to slow and then stumble, and the man who once skipped so nimbly as a child now sat dozing in the sun.

One morning as Guido sat there, letting the warmth soothe his aging body, a wave of despair washed over him. He closed his eyes and bowed his head. What was he worth? What did all his words and deals and money mean, in the end? Nothing.

Suddenly his vision was darkened. Someone stood before him, blocking the sun. He squinted up into the light. "Who's there? Who is it?"

The man bent, and now he saw him clearly. He was still tall, barely stooped, and the same quiet eyes now held his gaze.

His old friend sat down beside him, slowly. A long silence quivered between them. "I came back," he said, his voice thick with emotion, "to give you this." He took a deep breath. "I've carried it far too long. I'm done."

Something cool and round was placed in Guido's hands. He peered down. It was an apple.

Guido stared at it, and his eyes filled with tears. Then he gathered his courage and spoke at last.

From across the square it seemed they only said a few words. One seemed to weep, the other wiped his own eyes as well; they laughed together, even. The tall one took out a knife and cut the apple in half, and slowly they shared it, these two old men at the end of their long lives.

In the warm evenings now you can see them, those two friends. They are walking slowly together under the long shadows of the orchard. They say little, comfortable in shared silence. And sometimes you may see them, one or the other, bend down and fumble in the leaves to find a fallen apple. They laugh softly together, and walk on.