Tiramisu After Midnight

by Mark David Campbell

  “No!” Owen jerked back in his chair. “It’s that piece of glass I told you about at group. You know, that guy from Italy gave it to me.” Owen reached into his breast pocket, pulled out the little lump, and held it up for Big Eddy to see.

  “Why you carrying it around with you?”

  “I don’t know.” Owen shrugged. “For luck, I guess. I want to put it on a chain so I can wear it round my neck.”

  “Well, I know a guy who makes silver jewelry. He could do it for you. Wouldn’t cost a lot.”

  Big Eddy took the glass from Owen, held it up in the light, and examined it with one eye closed. “So if I got the story straight, this guy in Italy gave you this chunk of red glass and told you it’s a piece of his heart, even though you blew his brother.” Big Eddy snorted out a laugh.

  “Yeah.” Owen nodded. “That’s the story, more or less.”

  “So, what’re you going to do now?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I mean, what’re you going to do about this Italian guy?”

  “Nothing. I live here and he lives on the other side of the ocean.”

  “So this piece of glass ain’t nothing more than some cheap shit souvenir?”

  Owen had a pained look on his face. “No, it has meaning.”

  “Man, I really don’t get you queers.” Big Eddy shook his head. “You wanna put this guy’s heart on a chain around your neck, but you ain’t gonna do nothing more ’bout it.”

  “C’mon, I hardly know the guy. It’s not like some kind of cheap romance story. Life doesn’t work that way.”

  “Listen, motherfucker,” Big Eddy said with a tone so deep it made Owen shiver. “I’m a forty-six-year-old veteran who lost his home and his family snorting coke and smoking crack. Don’t tell me how life works.”

  Chapter Forty-Four

  “BUT I don’t understand! I only had sex with her once and that was three months ago. I was careful. I used a condom.” Fabrizio lay on his bed holding his pillow over his head.

  “I don’t understand either.” Enrico sat down on the edge of the bed. “But like it or not, there is a baby on the way.” He put his hand on Fabrizio’s shoulder. “And you, big brother, are the most likely candidate for father.”

  “But I don’t want to marry Grazia. I don’t love her,” Fabrizio pleaded. “Wait!” He lifted the pillow off his head. “I have an idea!”

  “What?” Enrico knew his brother’s unique perspective on the world all too well, and he dreaded what was about to flow forth.

  “Before you throw something at me, just listen,” Fabrizio said. “Why don’t you marry Grazia?”

  “Me!” Enrico shoved him and stood up. “Are you insane? Why should I marry Grazia? Are you forgetting I’m gay?” Fabrizio had surpassed himself this time.

  “No!” Fabrizio swung his feet around and sat upright. “Just listen to me. How many openly married gay couples do we know?”

  “Antonello and Giorgio.” Enrico shrugged.

  “Exactly. One. And how many homosexual men married to women do we know?”

  “Too many.” Enrico scowled.

  “Look at your fuck buddy, that asshole architect with his designer purse wife and their ugly brat.” Fabrizio spit.

  “Why are you attacking me!” Enrico yelled. “I’m not the one whose dick got him into trouble.”

  “I’m not attacking you. I’m angry. But you know as well as I do. Even if we have civil unions in Italy now, and Pride marches in every town from north to south, the church still hasn’t changed and neither have people’s minds.” Fabrizio stood up and wrapped his arms around his brother as if he were trying to shield him from arrows. “You’ve already been fired from the hotel for being gay. You’ll never have the same chances as me for a good job or a promotion. You won’t even get respect in the street.”

  Enrico remained still, not knowing how to react.

  “It kills me to see my little brother, the man I care for most in this world, gossiped about and sneered at behind his back, expected to stand at the end of the line and to take second best and be thankful for it.” Fabrizio was trembling as he released Enrico.

  “I know what you’re saying.” Enrico’s tone was soft. “But even if I’m expected to be a bravo ragazzo and pretend like I’m straight and marry a woman and have kids.” Enrico scowled. “I refuse to live a lie.”

  Fabrizio swallowed. “You know, when our egg split.” He sniffled. “You got all the courage and brains and I got the crap that was left over.”

  Chapter Forty-Five

  “THIS IS a bottle of Barbaresco I bought when I was in Italy this summer,” Maggie said as she poured the deep burgundy wine into Tony’s glass, then poured one for herself. “I don’t know much about wine, but Fabrizio and Enrico told me that it goes well with grilled steak, risotto with porcini mushrooms, and mild cheese.” Maggie sat down on the sofa beside Tony with her ankles crossed.

  “Fabrizio and Enrico?” Tony repositioned himself slightly closer to Maggie.

  “Oh, sorry. They were the co-owners of this little B&B we stayed at on Lago Maggiore.”

  “I guess even in Italy most of the B&B’s are run by gay couples, aren’t they?”

  Maggie frowned for a second, then forced a smile. “Yes, I guess so.” She clinked her glass against Tony’s and they drank.

  “Oh, that’s very nice, very nice indeed. I can taste it going with a cream-based pasta.”

  Maggie beamed. “I’m glad you like it.”

  “So have you decided what pasta dish you’re going to present for our final?” Tony said.

  Maggie took in a breath. “I’m not sure if I should go with something traditional, like a pasta e fagioli or maybe something a little more unusual.”

  “I’m going to play it safe and present a classic lasagna,” Tony said. “I think I have the besciamelle down pat. My grandmother would be proud.”

  “You absolutely do.” Maggie clinked Tony’s glass again. “You make the best besciamelle in the class.”

  Tony gazed into her eyes. She felt her face become warm. Tony continued to stare at her, and she took another drink trying to avert his gaze.

  “So what’s your reason for taking this course?” Maggie said.

  “To seduce women.” Tony grinned wickedly and laughed.

  “Touché,” Maggie chuckled.

  “No seriously.” Tony’s tone shifted. “I haven’t said anything in class, but my family has a small Italian restaurant near the waterfront.” Tony paused. “Quite frankly other than the family name, garlic bread, and spaghetti with meatballs, pizza is about as Italian as we get. With the new waterfront development, I figure everything will go upscale, and I’m trying to convert us into a proper Italian bistro and wine bar.” Tony took a sip. “By the way, I’ve taken note of this little number.” He held up his glass and swirled it. “It’s perfect.” He took another sip “And you?”

  “I work with a friend of mine doing special events, but when I was in Italy, I kind of fell in love with the place and the culture, and….” Maggie paused as the image of Fabrizio flashed through her mind.

  “And?”

  “And the cuisine, of course. I guess it’s now my passion.” She felt the tiny hairs on her nape tingle, the way they had when Fabrizio softly blew on the back of her neck before he nibbled on her earlobes. “Oh my.” Maggie fanned herself. “It’s warm in here.” She placed her glass on the side table next to the bottle.

  Tony placed his glass on the coffee table and leaned in closer. He looked directly into her eyes and held her gaze. “You know, Maggie, there’s something about you. I don’t know, mysterious. You’re not like the other women I know.”

  Even if this was Maggie’s first real date, she knew a come-on line when she heard one.

  He placed his fingers gently under her chin and kissed her lightly on her lips. His lips weren’t as full as Fabrizio’s, but they were soft and welcoming. He leaned forward to kiss her again, but this time Maggie pressed her h
and against his chest and he stopped abruptly. “What’s wrong?”

  “Nothing,” Maggie said. “Everything is fine. It’s just….” She shifted away.

  Tony looked confused.

  “I want to take this slowly.”

  “Why, what’s the problem? You got a crazy ex-husband, a kid asleep in the next room? No, I got it. You’re a lesbian?” Tony jested.

  “Sorry to disappoint you. I’m not a lesbian.” Maggie inhaled deeply and braced herself. “It’s just I’ve been in love with my roommate for years….” Maggie scrunched up her face.

  Tony sat back and held up his hands.

  Maggie waved her hand. “Don’t worry, he’s gay.”

  “Ah.” Tony snorted out a laugh. “Well, what you need is a real man, then.”

  Maggie felt all the blood drain from her face as he moved in close to kiss her again, this time reaching for her breast, but he bumped the table with his foot and knocked his glass over. The rich burgundy liquid ran across the table and trickled onto the floor.

  Maggie shifted away, leaned forward, and set it upright. “You know,” she said flatly and stood up, “I don’t think this is going to work.”

  Tony frowned. “If you don’t want to have sex, why did you bother to invite me over in the first place!” He stood up. “Man, I don’t get you fag hags.” He stomped to the door and grabbed his coat from the hook. “See you in class,” he blurted out as he left.

  Maggie swallowed, hardened herself, rose, and walked calmly to the door. She looked out and secured the lock. Then she returned to the sofa and sat down again, reached over, took the bottle, and poured herself another glass. Her hand was trembling as she slowly raised it to her lips. She stopped, placed the glass on the coffee table, flopped over, and buried her face in the pillow.

  Chapter Forty-Six

  ENRICO LOOKED over at his brother curled up in his bed. He hadn’t left the room in days. Enrico wished there were something he could do or say that would make things better, but an unexpected baby had the power to change everyone’s life. He pictured Grazia standing defiantly in the driveway. She was understandably mad, but there was also something else in her attitude, something insincere or contrived. He pictured Maria cowering behind Grazia. Strange, Maria was usually the gregarious one, but she seemed to be in shock. And when Fabrizio had asked about Luigi, Maria looked as if she were about to burst into tears. There was definitely more to the story, and somehow Maria and Luigi were involved. It was Friday night and Maria would be at the bar, as usual, waiting for Luigi to finish his shift.

  “I can’t sleep. I’m going to the Old Milano. Be back in a few hours,” Enrico said as he got up out of bed. Fabrizio just made a moan of acknowledgment but said nothing. Enrico slipped on a pair of jeans, grabbed the keys to Angelina, and left the room.

  Twenty minutes later Enrico walked up to Maria, who was sitting alone in a dark corner of the patio typing on her cell phone with an empty cocktail glass beside her. “Here, after the big news I thought we could both use a drink.” He placed a large pink cocktail next to her.

  “What’s this?” She looked up from her phone. Her eyes were red as if she’d been crying.

  “Sex on the beach.” Enrico grimaced. “Oh, maybe that wasn’t the best choice, was it?”

  “No.” Maria scowled. “It’s perfect. Absolutely perfect!” She spit out the words.

  “Here’s to mistakes,” Enrico said and clinked his glass against hers.

  Maria scoffed, grabbed the straws and tossed them on the patio pavement. “Mistakes.” She threw back half the cocktail.

  “Fabrizio is my brother, and Grazia has been your best friend forever.”

  Maria snorted and drained her glass.

  Enrico took a long draw on his straw. “How long has she known?”

  Maria looked back at Enrico with the expression of someone whose dreams had just been shattered and replaced with disillusion.

  “Maria, we’ve known each other since grade school. Talk to me,” Enrico said.

  “All I ever wanted to do was marry Luigi and have some babies. Is that too much to ask for?” She took out a cigarette and lit it, then leaned back in her chair and blew out a stream of smoke. “Four months. She’s four months pregnant.”

  Enrico raised one eyebrow. “And so?”

  “And so, Fabrizio’s not the father.” Her face was like stone. “Is that what you wanted to hear?”

  “The father is….”

  “Luigi!” Maria bent forward, hiding her face in her hands.

  Enrico stood up, took the cigarette from her fingers.

  “But what can I do?” she sobbed. “I still love him.”

  Enrico put his arm around her shoulders. “Come on. I’ll walk you home.”

  After dropping Maria off, Enrico hurried back to the bar where he’d parked Angelina. He was sorry for Maria, and for Grazia, too, but Fabrizio would be more than relieved to hear that Luigi was the father, not him. As Enrico straddled the bike his phone beeped. He whipped it out. It was a message from his architect fuck buddy.

  I need my ass pounded.

  Where and when? Enrico typed.

  Usual spot in ten minutes.

  Enrico revved Angelina’s engine and swerved out onto the lakeshore road. Just a quickie on the way home. Why not? But he could come up with a lot of reasons why not. He emerged out of the gallery tunnel, at the small parking area alongside the roadway, where he spotted the familiar blue Lancia in the far corner. Enrico let off on the gas and glided up behind the car. The passage door swung open. Just as he was about to climb off Angelina, Enrico paused. He thought about sitting next to Owen on the dock that first morning and how he’d longed to kiss him. Enrico was horny, but the guy sitting there in the car wasn’t who he was horny for.

  Enrico gunned the gas, sending a spray of gravel out behind the back wheel, veered around, and sped off down the lakeshore road toward Castelveccana and home. From now on, the architect would just have to find someone else to pound his ass.

  Chapter Forty-Seven

  “I KNOW I can run off at the mouth a little bit, but isn’t that what you’re supposed to do on a date? Talk.” Ian ran his hand through his hair.

  Owen smiled and nodded as he sat perched on the barstool nursing his beer at Wolf’s Den.

  “Anyway, as I was telling you,” Ian continued. “My ex is an English professor at the university. He’s thirty-nine, a good ten years older than me.” Ian seemed to want to emphasize their age difference.

  “One weekend, after we’d been together for almost three years, he invited me to come with him to Chicago to meet his parents. Only he failed to mention that the reason we were going to his parents’ that weekend was because it was his sister’s wedding. Even worse.” Ian took a slurp of his drink from the straw and swallowed quickly as if he were afraid his story might be interrupted. “He hadn’t told them he was gay! Can you imagine their reaction when I showed up at the door?”

  “It sure sounds like a recipe for disaster.” Owen shook his head.

  “Well, he introduced me as—” Ian made quotation marks in the air. “—his friend!”

  Owen took his cue and curled his lip disapprovingly.

  “That evening, when it came time for the wedding rehearsal, John said he had a migraine and that I could stand in for him. So off I went with his mom and dad, sister, and his old grandmother while he stayed at the house.”

  There was something suspiciously familiar about this story, Owen thought.

  “Now, of course I wasn’t there, but it seems as if, while we were all out at the rehearsal, John went upstairs and put on his sister’s wedding dress, veil, and shoes—I don’t know how he fit into her shoes other than his sister has these enormous feet—anyway, I guess he was prancing around in the outfit and the heel of the shoe must have caught on the hem of the dress and John went tumbling down the stairs and hit his head.”

  Yes, he had heard this story many times before. Usually the teller claimed it ha
ppened to a close friend or even a cousin.

  “So, when we came back and his parents opened the front door, they found John lying spread-eagle at the foot of the stairs, unconscious, with a gash to his head and the wedding dress up around his tits.”

  Owen laughed and took a sip of his beer.

  “And you can’t imagine what happened next.”

  On the contrary, Owen knew exactly what happened next.

  “His sister took one look at her brother lying there in her wedding dress and screamed, ‘You’ve ruined everything!’” Ian said with a high-pitched squeal in his voice. “And she leapt over John and ran hysterically up the stairs with her mother chasing after her.” Ian took a quick draw on his straw and continued, “His father dropped to his knees beside John to check if he was still breathing. Then he turned to me and said, ‘We better get him to the emergency room. Help me carry him to the car, would you?’ Can you believe it?”

  Of course, Owen couldn’t believe it, but he nodded approval anyway.

  “But wait, this is the best part. John’s father then told John’s grandmother to go upstairs and help calm the women down. Well, that old lady just looked back at him and said, ‘There’s no way I’m missing this. I’m coming to emergency with you!’ I could have died!”

  Owen laughed along with Ian. Even if the story was an old urban myth, Ian told it with such enthusiasm that it was easy to believe it might have really happened to him.

  “Needless to say, I broke up with him in the car on the way back to Syracuse.” Ian took another sip from his drink. “So what about you? What about your last disaster?”

  Owen immediately thought about that fateful boat trip with Fabrizio. “Well, he wasn’t my boyfriend, but I made a big mistake.”

  “Why? What happened?” Ian leaned in close with a look of conspiratorial curiosity pasted on his long skinny face.

  Owen sucked in air through his teeth. “I blew his brother.”