The Italian Word for Kisses

by Matthew J. Metzger

  On the far side of the pool, Luca hauled himself out, and Tav sat forward to watch, grinning. Water streamed off him and when Luca turned around, Tav could feel his gaze. Luca knew he was watching. And he showed off a little bit, too, stretching his arms way above his head, before crouching down and plunging back into the pool like a frog from the ledge. Straight under, effortless and graceful. He powered through water like it wasn’t there, and the parts of Tav’s brain not ogling Luca’s bare back and legs were marvelling at his speed. They were doing some kind of relay or something. Or Luca was just racing Aaron for the hell of it, Tav wasn’t sure.

  It happened so fast, Tav nearly missed it.

  But one second, David was standing on the edge of the pool, talking to the coach, and Luca was beelining for the wall under the water, silent as a koi in a Japanese garden. And the next, David was in the water, someone was screaming—

  And Luca was gone.

  Chapter 2: “It was just a stupid accident.”

  Chaos.

  It was like tuning into a film halfway. A girl was screaming by the steps. One of the other boys dropped into the water right after David. The lifeguard practically launched himself off his chair and into the water. And Tav was gripping the edge of his seat until his knuckles went white, not entirely sure why.

  Then the swimming coach jumped in, too, and the water that was churned up was tinged pink on the surface.

  “No,” Tav breathed as the cloud of blood drifted almost lazily to the top, sullen amongst the sudden frenzy of activity. No, no, no, no. It wasn’t Luca. Luca was fine, he was somewhere else. He always had trouble hearing in the pool. Coach Cooper always said he brought the whistle for Luca and his voice for everyone else. He just hadn’t noticed yet. He’d come up in a minute. He’d need air in a minute, and then he’d realise and get out of the pool, and everything would be fine. David had just hit the edge or broken his foot or something. It wasn’t Luca. It wasn’t.

  Four heads broke the surface. The coach, the plastic whistle floating in the water. David, gasping and swearing. And the new kid, with a dark head lolling against his shoulder, streaked in blood.

  “Luca!”

  Tav bolted. He sprinted down the steps and skidded across the tiles. The lifeguard had Luca now, too, and Tav leaned down to help lift him out. He was completely still, and limp in their hands. The water made his skin slippery, and Tav knew—and didn’t care—that they were leaving bruises with how hard they had to hold him.

  “Cup his head!” the new kid barked, and Tav did so, supporting hair slick with red and pink. His neck rolled, completely slack. Oh God.

  “Luca? Luca, c’mon…”

  It was a struggle to get him out of the water—Luca was heavy, Tav knew that—and when that limp body was laid on the tiles, Tav was promptly shoved out of the way by the lifeguard. He hovered, twisting his T-shirt in his hands, and his guts turned to water when Luca was flipped onto his side and the heel of a hand brought down hard into his stomach and ribs. Water flushed from his nose and mouth, but he didn’t cough.

  “Shit,” the coach hissed.

  “Someone get to reception and make sure they’ve called an ambulance,” the lifeguard shouted, already laying Luca back out. “He’s got a pulse. Someone make sure that ambulance is―”

  One of the other boys bolted. The new kid, still kneeling by Luca’s shoulders, started tipping his head back, and the first hot tears washed over and Tav started to cry—really cry, for the first time in years—as the new kid pressed his mouth to Luca’s and gave him the kiss of life.

  “Luca…”

  Luca’s chest rose and fell only in time with the new kid’s kiss, and Tav sank to the tiles to find a slack, soaked hand and squeeze it. The skin was cold from the water, and his fingers felt thick and rubbery, unwieldy and d―

  “Don’t die,” he begged. “C’mon, Luca, don’t die. It was just a stupid accident.” Across the tiles, David was fiercely resisting the first aider trying to look at his clearly broken ankle. “David’s gonna kill you if you die, c’mon, please.”

  The new kid bent over him again; Tav squeezed that hand and stared at Luca’s opposite wrist in the lifeguard’s hands, unable to look at his face. There was watery blood leaking across the tiles and into the knees of Tav’s jeans. He couldn’t breathe. He couldn’t fucking breathe!

  “Hey, whoa, hey…”

  Hands had seized Tav’s shoulders, but he clung to Luca’s fingers, unable to let go. “Don’t,” he begged the hands steadying him. He had to hold on. If he let go—if he let go, Luca would let go. Luca had been in tune with Tav for so long, if Tav let go…

  A man came skidding across the tiles on his knees with a heavy bag. The lifeguard said, “Still got a pulse. Regular.” The new kid bent again.

  “Luca,” Tav begged. “Luc, please―”

  The shallow rise was interrupted and the new kid was shoved away by the lifeguard and the newcomer when Luca coughed.

  And—and inhaled. Sharp and thin. And twisted violently, lurching against the lifeguard’s hands. The next cough turned into a retch, and he threw up on the tiles, a mix of bile and water.

  “S’alright, kid, s’alright…”

  “Tav, mate, c’mon, give him some space.”

  Luca’s fingers clenched, and Tav shook off the hands trying to pull him away. “No,” he insisted. “No, no, no, he needs me, he needs me here…”

  “Get me a towel down here!”

  “Is that his name? Luca? Is that your name, son?”

  “Luca Jensen, he’s one of my swimmers. Get that locker key off his wrist. Here, Aaron, go and get his things, grab his things for Tav to take back to his mam’s.”

  “No,” Tav insisted, wrapping both hands around Luca’s. His fingernails were blue, and his skin grey and icy. He was shivering, and there was blood all down his face and neck. “I’m going with him. I’m going with him.” There were sirens approaching, and he shrugged off Coach Cooper’s heavy paw. “No! I’m going with him! He needs me there!”

  Luca was breathing, but his chest was jerking and spasming, and his eyes were rolling under the blood. His hand had gone limp again in Tav’s grip, but when Tab squeezed and whispered his name desperately, his head turned very vaguely towards the sound.

  “I’m gonna come with you, yeah?” Tav whispered. “Okay? I’m gonna come with you, and the coach’ll call your mam, and it’s gonna be okay, I promise, it’ll be okay.”

  Boots sounded on the tiles, and a paramedic shouldered the lifeguard out of the way with expert apathy, snapping on a pair of gloves and asking questions before he’d even knelt down properly.

  Tav ignored him. Luca was shivering under the towel somebody had found. His eyes were settling for staring at the overhead lights. He was still breathing in jerky swallows and gasps.

  And when Tav whispered his name, he reckoned maybe Luca could hear him.

  * * * *

  Tav hated hospitals.

  It wasn’t anything big. It wasn’t like he knew anyone who’d died in them—except Grandma Tavistock, but she’d been a horrible old witch and they hadn’t even gone to the hag’s funeral. But he hated them all the same. The way all the nurses looked harried, and everyone ignored you if you weren’t bleeding everywhere. The way they wouldn’t tell him anything, even though he’d come in the ambulance with Luca. The way he wasn’t family, so he wasn’t good enough.

  How wasn’t he good enough? How wasn’t he family?

  “Tav!”

  The voice washed out of the melee and Tav’s head jerked up. His stepfather had arrived. Saturday mornings were Mam-and-Becky time down at the football pitches, Mam watching Becky’s matches and then taking her for ice cream after. The mobile had gone straight to voicemail, so Tav had had no other choice.

  And when Ian just sank into the empty seat next to him and squeezed his shoulder, Tav found he didn’t much mind having to call on him.

  “What happened?”

  Tav returned his gaze to
the double doors that they’d whisked Luca off through. They’d said Tav couldn’t go with him anymore after that, and then there’d been nothing. An hour and a half he’d been in there. What was taking them an hour and a half?

  “Tav?”

  “David jumped in the pool and landed on Luca’s head,” he whispered numbly.

  Ian groaned. “Oh hell.”

  “There was blood everywhere. He banged his head on the tiles.”

  “Well, all them Jensen kids have hard heads, I’m sure―”

  “He wasn’t breathing, Ian. One of the other kids had to do CPR.”

  Ian hissed through his teeth, and one of those thick, rough hands tightened on Tav’s shoulder. Ian was a gardener. That was how he’d met Mam, clearing the bramble-infested garden for fifty quid and a cup of strong tea. Tav had been ten years old—and that was why he’d called Ian because he had to, but he wanted Mam. Ian wasn’t his dad. He was Ian. And in lieu of a dad, Tav wanted his mam.

  “It’s been ages.”

  “Hospitals take time.”

  “Yeah, but they won’t tell me anything,” Tav protested. “Said I’m not family. Where’s―”

  The double doors crashed open, and Tav nearly bit his tongue, but it wasn’t Luca. It was a nurse, leading a stocky, broad-shouldered man with a dark, Mediterranean complexion and a shaved head across the foyer. His stride was very heavy, thick Timbaland boots clomping on the tiles, and even though Tav knew the swagger to be show, he instinctively shrank back a fraction before jumping up.

  “Antonio!”

  That dark head turned, and Antonio’s nod was stiff and closed before he disappeared around a corner with the nurse. Tav’s guts turned to water, and then Ian was guiding him back into the seat, hands tight on Tav’s shoulders. Why was Antonio here? Why wasn’t it just Luca’s mam or dad? Why Antonio? Were they gathering everyone? Why would they do that? What if—oh God, what if—

  “Tav, breathe.”

  “What’s happening?” Tav begged nobody in particular. “Why’s it Antonio? Why would they call his brother?”

  Luca’s eldest brother, Antonio was almost never around these days. He lived just off Abbeydale Road with his girlfriend and their new baby, last Tav knew. Why the hell had they called Antonio?

  “Tav. Easy.”

  Ian’s hand was gentle on the back of Tav’s, and Tav loosened his grip on his own jeans. His knuckles hurt. They were still tinged pink from the pool, and he swallowed. “Why’s Antonio here?”

  “Maybe he was the only one answering his phone,” Ian said calmly. “It doesn’t mean anything.”

  Tav bit his lip, staring back at the double doors like he could see through them. He wanted to be with Luca. Why wasn’t he allowed to go? And why were they calling his brother? Were they calling all the family? If they were, it was—it was beyond bad, and if it was that bad, Tav needed to go, too.

  “Tav.”

  He loosened his grip again and blinked frantically against the blurring and burning in his eyes.

  “Hey.” Ian’s voice was very gentle, and Tav desperately wanted his mam for a minute. Ian was nice and all, but…he wanted his mam. He wanted Mam to come and hug him and kick off at a nurse for not letting him go with Luca. He was family. Luca was everything, why couldn’t Tav just go?

  “I want Mam,” he croaked.

  Ian’s hand squeezed at Tav’s shoulders. “She’ll be here as soon as she can, Tav, you know that.”

  “Yeah. But―”

  Antonio’s voice rang out clear and deep, and then he was striding back across the foyer with the same nurse, signing papers on the clipboard. “You,” he snapped his fingers at Tav. “C’mon. If you can stand up, you’ve gone a right funny colour.”

  Fuck funny colours. Tav forced himself to his feet. “How’s Luca?” he blurted out, and Antonio frowned.

  “What? He’s fine. High as a kite, but fine. Nobody told you nothing?”

  “No.”

  “Fuck’s sake,” Antonio grumbled, and grabbed Tav’s shoulder roughly to push him through the double doors. A long corridor stretched out ahead of them, filled with open doors and waiting hospital beds. Nurses scuttled in and out cartoonishly fast, but Tav ignored it all. His shoes squeaked on the tiles, and he wondered absently why there were so many tiles to get to Luca.

  Then he was shoved into a bay filled with blue curtains and caught his breath as one was ripped aside.

  “Oi, twassock. Your girlfriend’s here.”

  “Luca,” Tav breathed, the name feeling delicate on his tongue.

  Luca smiled. He looked thin and small, flat on his back under thin white sheets in a too-wide hospital bed. His hair was still plastered to his head, matted and lumpy. There was a gash disappearing into his hairline, the faintest edge of stitches visible. He was dressed in a hospital gown, and the right side of his face looked swollen and puffy, red gently darkening to black and purple. The smile didn’t twitch on that side, but lit up the left like a sunbeam.

  He was beautiful, and Tav could have cried.

  But Antonio and Ian were there, so he caught the hand Luca lifted towards him and squeezed it tightly instead. “Hello,” he mumbled stupidly.

  “Hey,” Luca murmured. His eyes—that rich, dark, near-black brown—were entirely black now. His fingers were limp, but a warm, relaxed kind of limp. Not the dead kind of limp they’d been at the pool. “My head hurts.”

  “No shit,” Antonio said. “You ready for the orderlies to move you? You not gonna pitch a fit this time?”

  “It makes me dizzy,” Luca complained. His voice was vaguely slurred, and Tav rubbed his thumb over those warm knuckles.

  “Well get your princess there to hold your hand,” Antonio said. “Once they move you, I can tell Mamma which ward you’re in, and the more time she has to chill out. So do you want to move, or do you want Mamma to finish off what that daft kid started?”

  “C’mon,” Tav mumbled, rubbing at his eyes with his free hand and trying desperately not to cry. “I need a hug, and I’m not hugging you in front of the entire A&E and your older brother.”

  “Please, I’ve walked in on you two doing worse than a bit of hugging.”

  “When?” Luca asked blearily.

  “All I’m saying is shut your goddamn bedroom door, you little slag.”

  An orderly started chortling as he took the brake off the bed. Luca groaned and clung to Tav’s fingers when the mattress shuddered and the frame lurched, and Tav gave in and kissed his knuckles. “Okay?”

  “I might throw up. Tonio? Why’m I going to a ward? Can we go home when Mamma gets here?”

  “I doubt it,” Antonio snorted.

  “But―”

  “Luca, shut up,” Tav pleaded quietly. “You stopped breathing, okay? You need to be here.”

  “I what?”

  Tav bit his lip. He was having to walk quickly to keep pace with the bed as the orderlies barrelled it down the corridor, and it was a struggle not to stop dead at Luca’s wide-eyed confusion.

  “Tav? What d’you mean?”

  “I mean…I mean, when that new kid pulled you out—Jack or John or whatever…”

  “Jack.”

  “Yeah, well, he pulled you out, and you weren’t breathing, and he gave you the kiss of life.”

  Luca blinked. “What?”

  “Hey, it’s cool, you rebooted,” Antonio said, lightly ruffling Luca’s matted hair. Luca grimaced and shook him off. “But you’re staying in for twenty-four hours. Just in case, you know? Sometimes lungs go crazy a bit later, and if they stop again and you’re up in your room having a nap, nobody would know until morning. You get it?”

  “I…wait, Jack Collins’s kissed me?” Luca blurted out as he was wheeled into a ward. The orderlies started to turn the bed to fit it into the empty bay, and Luca snapped his eyes shut. Tav squeezed his knuckles and made a soothing noise.

  “Kissing Jack, kissing Tav, what’s the diff?” Antonio asked idly.

  “Oh shut your face
,” Luca mumbled. He was going an odd whitish-green colour. “Kissing Alison, kissing Katie, what’s the difference? And I’m gonna throw up.”

  “Point taken,” Antonio said as a nurse produced a kidney dish and folded Luca’s hand around it.

  “In there, dear.”

  As the bed was settled and the orderlies disappeared, the nurse fussing around for a little longer, the colour slowly faded and Luca closed his eyes. For a minute, Tav thought he must have drifted off, but when he tried to extract his hand, Luca’s tightened.

  “No.”

  “Hey, okay. Still here.”

  “Jack kissed me.”

  “CPR is hardly a kiss.”

  “Yeah, but if I, like, stop breathing and die tonight, he’ll be my last kiss.”

  “Don’t say that,” Tav snapped angrily. “That’s not fucking funny!”

  “But it’s true,” Luca mumbled. He balanced the kidney dish on his chest and waved his other hand blindly in Antonio’s direction. “I want to sit up. Sit me up? My head’s pounding again.”

  “It’ll do that for about a week, judging by your bruises,” Antonio grumbled, but fumbled under the bed for the button anyway. “Lucky you didn’t fracture your skull.”

  “You’re lucky you didn’t die!” Tav snapped. He let go of Luca’s hand as the head of the bed started rising, and folded his arms. “You weren’t breathing, Luca. I—I held your hand and you weren’t breathing. Your fingers were going blue!”

  A ringtone started chiming, and Antonio sighed. “That’ll be Mamma. I’ll go and get her. You two gonna be alright for ten minutes?”

  “Uh-huh,” Luca said. He was reaching out, but Tav sidestepped his hands. “Tav…”

  “You nearly died,” Tav insisted as Antonio disappeared and the curtain was pulled shut again. “It’s not funny. You can’t make jokes about it.”

  “I’m sorry, okay?” Luca said, and reached again. He left his hand hovering in the air, fingers outstretched. “I don’t remember, Tav. I was just swimming, and then everything hurt and I was in the ambulance. I didn’t know.”