The Loved and the Lost by Lory Kaufman

cup of water and Medeea spun her finger again. “Another, per favore.”
    â€œHe should hydrate,” Medeea thought.
    As Ugilino left the tavern, Lincoln got a double dose of bright sun light, his own and Ugilino’s. Lincoln and Medeea strode quickly beside Ugilino, who was in a hurry to get to the funeral. Lincoln was finding it hard to mind-delve and walk quickly at the same time, and was thankful when Ugilino pulled into an alley to relieve himself. As the big oaf pulled down his braise and squatted, Lincoln peered at him, trying to follow his thoughts. Medeea was being quiet, although he could sense her in his mind. When Ugilino closed his eyes and frowned, Lincoln closed his too. That’s when he dove fully into a very troubled medieval psyche.
    Ugilino’s mind was collage of visions, sounds, thoughts and emotions. Images were jumping in and out of his awareness, one causing another to pop up and then be superseded by another. The stream of consciousness flickered by so quickly that Lincoln had trouble processing it all. He took a deep breath and squeezed his eyes shut, steeling his focus and determined to sort the hodge-podge of information flooding into him.
    He saw an image of a smiling Father Aaron, his eyes soft, and Ugilino’s inner voice saying, “The Father never frowned when he spoke to me.” Then Father Aaron was laughing and touching Ugilino’s cheek. “God loves you, Ugilino, and I love you too.”
    â€˜Why didn’t I tell him I loved him too?’ Ugilino thought. ‘Why was I afraid? Now he’s dead!’ and the image of the maggot-filled ossuary flashed in his mind, the memory of the smell making both Ugilino and Lincoln want to retch.
    Ugilino’s mind went blank for a moment, and then Lincoln could feel Ugi trying to soothe himself by recalling a pleasant memory. Lincoln felt a small smile come to Ugilino’s lips and an incredible fantasy emerged. It was Ugilino and Guilietta in an intimate embrace, her stroking his scarred face. But it didn’t look quite like Ugilino. The nose was much less broken, there were fewer scars and even his teeth were white. This was how Ugilino saw himself. “I love you, Ugilino,” Guilietta was saying, leaning forward to kiss his lips. Their bed covers drifted upward in the fantasy, as if angels had beat their wings and caused a breeze to make them float up to heaven, revealing their two naked bodies. Lincoln could feel Ugilino’s face flush and his respiration increase.
    â€˜I must not think of these things on Father’s Aaron’s death day,’ Ugilino thought, but he wanted, needed to think of something fine. Lincoln sensed a smile come to Ugi’s face and saw an even more improved Ugilino standing next to a very jovial Master della Cappa, both of them standing with other tradesmen. He saw the Master with his large arm around Ugilino’s shoulder, introducing him to the members of the Crystal Guild of Florence.
    â€œHe’s a better lens maker than me,” the Master bragged.
    â€œOh, you taught me everything I know, Master,” Ugilino said modestly.
    â€œI have a daughter to marry this fine young man,” a guild member told Agistino.
    â€œThis one’s already taken,” the Master retorted with good humor. “Holy Cristo, this boy can polish lenses.”
    Suddenly Ugilino saw himself tumbling down the stairs at the house in Verona. This was a real memory. He had been carrying the lathe and tripped. As the image of him crashing to the floor flashed in both minds, Lincoln could feel the severe pain that had exploded in Ugi’s back. Then the Master was looking down at him with disgust and another wave of shame spewed up from Ugilino’s stomach, deluging his brain. The echoing sound of one of the orphans laughing at him added to the tumult. Now it was Lincoln who felt ashamed. The orphan who laughed hysterically was none other than