“Couldn’t get his papers.” Fabrizio pulled the sides of his helmet out as wide as he could and carefully slipped it on so as not to touch his wound. “He said he’d had enough of the Italian cazzate and was going to Germany to find a factory job.” Fabrizio delicately tucked the blood-spotted washcloth under the edge of the helmet. “Hey, why don’t we go to Germany too? They say there’s lots of work there, and since we’re EU citizens, we’d be legal.”
Enrico straddled Angelina and pumped the starter pedal with his foot.
“Or we could even travel and see the world!” Fabrizio said above the roar of the engine.
“We can’t leave Tata alone to look after Papà.” Enrico revved the engine.
Fabrizio let out a breath. “Yeah, I know. It was just a thought.” He braced himself on Enrico’s shoulders, swung his leg over, and straddled the seat behind, gripping his brother’s waist.
Enrico gunned the accelerator and they sped down the driveway, leaving a cloud of blue smoke and a spray of gravel behind them.
Fabrizio leaned close to his brother’s ear and shouted above the growl of Angelina, “Turn right! Let’s go to Laveno instead.”
“But the hospital in Luino is closer.”
“Yeah, but Chiara should be on shift in Laveno. You know, the one with the big tits.” He sat back, then leaned in close again. “But don’t tell her how it really happened. Say… I don’t know…. Tell her I got into a fight. No, better! Tell her I crashed during a Formula 1 test run.”
Chapter Two
TYPICAL OF northern New York State in late June, the evening of their graduation from Syracuse Central High was clear and cool. An hour before the ceremony Jessy, Owen, and Maggie met at their usual hiding spot at the far end of the parking lot behind the old oak tree.
“So, are you ready, Mr. Valedictorian?” Jessy said.
“I’d be scared shitless if I had to give the speech.” Maggie sat down on the exposed root of the oak.
“I am. I put on a ton of deodorant, but my hands are sweating like clams.” Owen rubbed his hands on the side of his jeans and sat down beside Maggie.
“Well, I have a little something that will calm you down.” Jessy took out a joint, stuck it in his mouth, and lit it.
“Wow! I can’t believe I made it through.” Maggie nudged Owen with her shoulder. “But what’s going to happen to the Terrible Trio now?”
The Terrible Trio was the name they had given themselves, but their trio was anything but terrible. With his GQ looks, swimmer’s physique, and goofy sense of humor, every boy since grade school had vied to be Jessy’s best friend and every girl longed to be paraded on his arm. While Jessy was an American dream, Owen, with his rusty hair, freckles, and nervous eye-twitch, was basically a nerd, the top of his class and on the yearbook committee. But Jessy and Owen had a kind of symbiosis. It was as if Jessy were the yin and Owen the yang, or maybe even Batman and Robin. Whether it could be attributed to oriental mysticism, comic books, or simply two boys who completed each other, you rarely met one without the other.
Maggie, on the other hand, hiding within her long black hair and baggy black clothes, was the girl who nobody had ever noticed. At least until that day the boys adopted her, and from then on, if Jessy and Owen were the dynamic duo, then she was Catwoman.
Owen looked up at Jessy. “We’ve still got the summer together.” His hand was trembling as Jessy handed him the joint.
“So, what are you going to say tonight?” Jessy said.
He had offered to help Owen with his speech, and surely with Jessy’s gift at turning a phrase it would have been great, but Owen had wanted to do it on his own. Perhaps Owen was asserting his independence, or maybe he needed to say something very personal without the guidance and protection of Jessy.
“You know, the usual shit. The future is ours, blah, blah, blah. Be true to yourself, blah, blah, blah.” Owen took a long toke.
“Wouldn’t it be cool to, like, tell them the real truth?” Maggie said. “Man, they’d have a collective shit hemorrhage!”
“This is your last chance to come clean and tell them all,” Jessy said with a lyrical taunt.
“Ha, I’ve managed to stay just below radar all these years, and I’m sure as shit not going to blow it now.” Owen scoffed.
Of course there had already been gossip about Owen, but his best friend was Jessy, the most popular guy in school and an athlete. Who could possibly believe that Jessy was best friends with a fairy boy?
“Besides,” Owen added, “we still have to live here, and Syracuse is not that big.”
“Hey, did you talk to your mom about college yet?” Maggie looked up at Owen.
“Yeah, she said my dad won’t pay for my tuition, but as long as I’m still living at home and still going to school, he has to continue to pay child support.” Owen scowled. “And she wants to make him pay as long as possible.” Owen took a short toke. “It’s only three hundred dollars a month, but with my tuition waiver and a part-time job, I should be able to swing it.”
“Man, everything has a price tag, doesn’t it?” Jessy frowned.
“Yup, and according to the state of New York, I’m worth ten dollars a day.” Owen plunked down beside Maggie and handed her the joint.”
“Well, my only prospect is Dad’s real estate agency.” Maggie held the joint in her fingers.
“What’s wrong with that?” Jessy said.
“Nothing, I guess.” Maggie sighed. “It’s just, it’s like my whole future has already been mapped out before I’ve even had a chance to taste life and see the world. How long will it be before I become just like Pathetic Patty? I can get really fat and start to wear neon polyester pants and collect Hello Kitty and manga cult figurines, and check my Facebook every ten minutes in case someone has given me a like for some stupid cat picture I posted?”
“Hey, are you going to take a drag, or are you just planning to hold on to it while you live out your Patty paranoia?” Jessy asked.
Maggie pinched the joint delicately between her forefinger and thumb and took a long toke. Holding it in her lungs, she passed the joint back to Jessy. “Have you made up your mind yet?”
“Yeah, you’ve got that swimming scholarship,” Owen said, doing his best to hide the panic in his voice at the thought of Jessy leaving for Michigan State.
Jessy’s chest expanded like a cobra’s hood as he drew in the smoke. “The high school swim team is one thing,” he squeaked out as he held the smoke in his lungs. “But I’m hardly big league, and the truth is I don’t want to be just another chlorine rat who winds up coaching a bunch of pimply backed adolescents.” Jessy released his cloud and passed the joint to Owen.
Owen took a toke, trying to appear nonchalant and not let on how relieved he was.
“But I am seriously thinking about circus school in Montreal,” Jessy added.
Owen coughed out his puff. “Circus school?” he said as he gasped for air between coughs. “But Montreal is like a foreign country!”
“Yeah, or maybe creative writing here at Syracuse U.” Jessy thumped Owen on the back.
“What would you write about?” Maggie took the joint from Owen.
“I don’t know. Us, maybe,” Jessy said.
“Us?” Owen said.
“Yeah, you and me and Maggie, the Terrible Trio,” Jessy said.
“Speaking of us, I want to ask you two something.” Maggie held the joint to her lips and took a drag.
“Yes, it’s true. Jessy did have sex in the showers with that guy from Jefferson High after the swim meet,” Owen said.
Maggie shook her head and waved her hands in the air, then blew out the smoke. “I already know that. And he also fooled around with Keven Simpson under the bleachers during band practice.”
“Wait a minute!” Owen turned to Jessy. “You had sex with Keven Simpson and didn’t tell me?”
Jessy put on his innocent little bad-boy face. “Well, it wasn’t really sex. I just let him play my trombone.”
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Owen frowned. “And you told Maggie but didn’t share with me?”
“I told you.” Jessy hunched his shoulders. “Didn’t I?”
“No, asshole. You didn’t.” Owen swallowed the rising lump in his throat. If only there were some way to make Jessy understand how much he loved him and that he was willing to risk everything for him.
Jessy plunked down beside Owen and reached over and hugged his neck. “Well, it was no biggie. Sorry.”
Maggie looked at Jessy, then back at Owen.
Of course anyone could see Owen was hopelessly in love with his best friend and, oddly, for a boy like Jessy, whom the world seemed ready to welcome with open arms, he needed Owen’s adoration most of all. But would Jessy ever completely reciprocate his love?
“Excuse me for interrupting the hug-fest, but can we return to my question?”
“Yes, dear.” Jessy released Owen and sat up straight. “Vaginal dryness, clitoral orgasm, blow job techniques—what do you want to know about?”
“No, idiot!” Maggie handed the tiny nub of a joint over to Jessy. “I want to know why you two asked me to come for coffee with you that first time—seriously.”
“Seriously?” Jessy sucked in air and the remains of the smoke.
“Yes. Why me?” Maggie said.
“Simple,” Jessy said.
“’Cause you are, well, Maggie.” Owen held out his hands.
Maggie cocked her head and furrowed her brow.
“We thought about asking Anna Lester.” Jessy held up the nub and examined it. Then with a flick, he sent it sailing through the air. “But she always wears those push-up torpedo bras.”
“And she’s about as interesting as hemorrhoids,” Owen added.
“Oh, my aunt got those!” Maggie piped up. “One was about the size of my little finger.” She held up her finger.
Owen grabbed his head. “Ahh!”
“Well it was!” Maggie said. “I saw it!”
“Oh, the horror!” Jessy moaned. “I’m not even going to ask.”
“Thanks for the visuals,” Owen said and covered his face. “I’ll never be able to look your aunt in the eyes again.”
“And now you know why we love you.” Jessy laughed.
“What other girl in school could discuss blow jobs, smoke weed, and tell us about her aunt’s hemorrhoids in the same conversation?” Owen beamed.
“Hey! We better get inside,” Jessy said as he jumped to his feet.
“After all, you have a big speech to give,” Maggie said to Owen as Jessy pulled her up.
Jessy bowed toward Owen, who was still seated on the ground. “Oh, great one, we await you to impart your words of truth and wisdom upon us.” Jessy reached out and took Owen’s hands, pulled him to his feet, and wrapped him in his arms. “I hope you know how proud I am of you,” Jessy said staring deep into Owen’s eyes.
Owen, unable to look away, unable to run, tried to smile, but his lips began to quiver and his eye twitched. Jessy clasped the back of Owen’s head and pressed their foreheads together. “Go in there and knock ’em off their feet.” Then Jessy kissed him on the lips.
Owen’s head spun and he felt that all too familiar roll in the pit of his stomach. He knew it wasn’t nervousness over the speech he was about to give. It was, as always, Jessy.
“C’mon, you two.” Maggie tugged at Jessy’s arm. “We’re going to be late.”
The high school gym floor was covered with thick plastic sheets to protect the wooden basketball court and filled with stackable chairs. Parents, all vying to get the best view and camera angle, chatted with one another and pointed to their children on the stage dressed in rented black robes and sandwich-board hats. Owen stood at the podium in front of the row of graduates and looked out at the audience. His mother, in her cream dress, white pearls, and clutch purse, and his sister, in a yellow dress and patent leather shoes, were poised in the front row. His mother gave him a nod of approval and held up her phone.
Owen started his speech in the usual way by thanking his mother and sister, friends and teachers. Just as he had said, he talked about the horizons that lay ahead. But when he reached the part about being true to yourself and those who are important to you, what Jessy said back at the oak tree about this being his last chance to come clean in front of everyone, suddenly resounded in his head. His heart pounded. He cleared his throat and said, “And now for my truth….”
Not that he had planned to do it. It just came out. Like a fart in church, the word gay seemed to echo throughout the room, followed by an uneasy silence. After years of hiding from that dreaded label in the security of Jessy’s shadow, there he stood on center stage in the school gym, making his declaration out loud for all to hear.
For the first time in his life Jessy was speechless, but Maggie, who had never called attention to herself during her entire high school career, stepped onto center stage and burst out with a hoot, waving her arms in the air. Jessy followed her cue, bouncing around the stage like a big rubber ball. He picked Owen up from behind, lifted him off his feet, and yelled, “That’s my boy!”
His classmates on the stage behind him clapped and cheered and one by one, with the measured spirit of political correctness, parents throughout the room clapped along. Even the principal, who had refused to allow him to bring Jessy as his date to the prom, clapped. While their classmates and some of the teachers crowded around him, Owen caught a flash of his mother clutching his sister by her hand as they quickly made their escape out the doors of the gymnasium.
After the ceremony, he and Jessy walked back to Owen’s house together. Jessy stood in the street as Owen sauntered down the walkway, past the Make America Great Again sign on the front lawn, up to the front door of his house where the red, white, and blue hung listlessly over the portico. There on the stoop was Owen’s suitcase with a bible resting on top.
Owen imagined his mother sitting inside on the sofa with a cup of herbal tea to calm her nerves. He looked up at his little sister peeking out through the second-floor window. He waved, but she didn’t wave back. He looked back down at his suitcase. Sticking out from the bible like a bookmarker were some bills—three hundred dollars—the exact amount of his child support for the month of June. He opened the bible. Just as he expected, Genesis, Chapter 18—Sodom and Gomorrah. She didn’t need to tell him to his face he was out, cut off, and his plans for university were gone. He took the bills, clapped the bible shut, and tossed it on the stoop.
As he trudged back down the walkway trailing his suitcase, its plastic wheels sounding like a miniature train, he remembered watching his father through his bedroom window doing the same almost ten years ago, and he felt that deep sadness once again.
Still standing there in the street waiting was Jessy.
“Left or right side of the bed?” Jessy said as he threw his arm over Owen’s shoulder.
Chapter Three
“C’MON OVER here and take a look at this.” Fabrizio leaned forward and fiddled with the keys of his laptop as Enrico walked into their bedroom.
“Let me get changed first.” Enrico took off his jeans and slipped on a pair of sweats.
“I had to make a website for my online business course.” Fabrizio clicked the mouse and pulled up a home page with a wallpaper picture of the lake in the background, the title Lago B&B in red-white-and-green-striped letters across the top banner, and a row of thumbnail photos of the house across the lower part of the screen.
Enrico was now standing behind with his hands resting on his brother’s shoulders.
Fabrizio clicked on the first thumbnail and it expanded and filled the screen.
“Wow, where’d you get the photo of the house?” Enrico said as he stared at the image of their eighteenth-century three-story faux-brick villa, with its terra-cotta-tiled roof, nestled amidst the tulia trees and northern palms like a giant hen in the roost. The tower, where the boys had their bedroom, stood majestically against the blue Alpino sky. Just under the eaves of the
tile roof, the yellow band inscribed with zodiac designs circumscribed the villa, and every window was flanked by wooden shutters. Red, pink, and yellow roses filled the garden like the colored paper children throw during Carnival.
“They’re all yours. I just photoshopped them a bit.” Fabrizio turned and looked at his brother.
Enrico studied the other photos. “A bit? We look like a regal villa. The only thing that’s real is Papà’s rose garden.”
“You know with a little cash the old place could look like this again,” Fabrizio said.
The house had originally been their grandmother’s. After her death, Francesca, their older half sister, got a luxurious apartment in Milan and the boys got the house at the lake. But since the boys were babies at the time, Francesca took over managing the combined estates and had done so ever since.
“I wish we could fix it up, but Francesca said any leftover money in the inheritance fund is almost gone, and so if we don’t figure out something soon, we could lose everything,” Enrico said.
“That’s why everyone calls me the brains of the family.” Fabrizio jabbed his brother with his elbow.
“Everyone calls you something, but it’s definitely not the brains of the family.” Enrico bent over and bit his brother lightly on his shoulder.
“Well, they’re going to start after our B&B is a big success.”
“What B&B?”
“Ours. Here at the house,” Fabrizio said.
Enrico wrinkled his brow. “You know, a B&B is not a bad idea. If we moved downstairs to the back of the house with Tata and Papà and fixed up the four bedrooms upstairs and the two in the tower, I’ll bet we could make it work.”
“And if we refinished the garden cottage and made an apartment over the boathouse, we could fill this place every summer with rich American and German tourists,” Fabrizio said.
“And you could service those lonely women travelers looking for a young Italian stallion,” Enrico said with a sarcastic tone.
“You know, that’s not a bad idea. I could be a gigolo.” Fabrizio beamed. “And you could do the guys.”
Tiramisu After Midnight Page 2
