All I Believe

by Alexa Land

  Allesandro thought about it for a moment, then said, “What if I interview you anonymously and don’t air it until after you leave town?”

  I shook my head. “The past is best left buried.”

  “But it’s not buried,” he insisted. “The Dombrusos are still alive and well in the states. The Natoris are out there somewhere, too. In fact, I remember hearing just a couple years ago that Sal Natori, the leader of that family, got taken out in a bloody shootout in Rome. It was hushed up, I assume a lot of officials got paid off so only the sketchiest details made it into the paper. But the story still filtered down here, since he had ties to Viladembursa. Everyone said a member of the Dombruso family killed him in an act of revenge. Do you know anything about that?”

  I did, actually. Everyone in my family knew my cousin Dante had tracked down Sal Natori and settled the score with the man who’d gunned down his parents and baby sister in their home. But I kept my voice and my expression neutral as I said, “They’re just rumors.”

  Matteo chimed in, “Let it go, Allesso. You’re not going to get a juicy story out of my cousin. Even if you did, that wouldn’t make them take you seriously at the station. Just accept it.” To me he said, “My friend always gets the, what do you call them? Fluff pieces? We just did a story on a bake sale at one of the churches.”

  “They’re human interest stories,” his friend said, looking a little annoyed. “I can’t help it if the producer has it out for me.”

  Matteo told me, “He gets the stories about cats stuck in trees because everyone knows he’s not serious about his job and wants to run off to Hollywood. The station’s not willing to invest much in him.” Then he pointed and said, “Dio mio, is that your grandmother?”

  I looked in the direction he was pointing, even though in my experience, it was always my grandmother. Nana was up on the stage where they did a weekly drag show, along with Jessie and four go-go boys dressed only in skimpy, colorful briefs and sneakers. Apparently she was trying to teach them to twerk, because she considered herself an expert after learning how to do it on a cruise. The fact that they already knew how didn’t deter her in the slightest. She came up behind a short guy in orange briefs, grabbed him by the hips and started gyrating against him while the other dancers cheered and laughed. I too murmured, “Dio mio.” The guy seemed to be getting a kick out of it, but I started to make my way toward the stage just in case he needed rescuing at some point. Matteo and Allessandro followed with delighted expressions.

  Nana waved to Matteo when she saw him, then yelled something to the DJ. A few moments later, an all too familiar song started to play. Good lord. Nana clapped her hands and started doing the Macarena, throwing her entire body into it. The go-go boys and pretty much the entire audience joined in. It was like being flung back in time to the 1990s. I had no idea how Nana or anyone else still remembered that dance (and it was news to me that it had made its way to Sicily).

  I just watched at first, but Allessandro saw I was hanging back and exclaimed, “Come on, Nico!” He grabbed my hands and pushed and pulled me like a rag doll until I grinned self-consciously and joined in. By the end of the dance, I was laughing with everyone else, and clapped my hands as the entire club applauded Nana.

  She waved to the crowd, looking very pleased with herself, then got off the stage and spoke to the DJ. He let her use the mic, and she made an announcement about the singles mixer on Thursday, then asked for help in spreading the word to the gay community. When she stepped out of the DJ booth, she was swarmed by cute guys, all of whom wanted to talk to her and dance with her. Nana saw more action than I did.

  Jessie was getting a lot of attention too, as the cute, ‘exotic’ American who looked like a beach boy. He danced with two guys at a time, throwing his hands in the air and moving to the music. I’d always admired people who could let go of their inhibitions and just have fun, and Jessie excelled at that (so did Nana, who was dancing with the four go-go boys).

  After a few songs, Nana came by and visited with us before her adoring public whisked her away again, and later on Jessie took a break and joined Matteo, Allessandro and me at a table by the bar. I made the introductions, and Allessandro toasted him with a beer and said, “It’s a pleasure to meet you. I’m really drunk, by the way, so if I say something stupid, please forgive me. I was going to go home an hour ago, but then I met Matty’s cousin and home was forgotten.”

  “Tomorrow will be miserable,” Matteo told him. “We have to be at the station early, and you’re such a pain when you have a hangover.”

  “Are you two a couple?” Jessie asked, mopping his damp forehead with a cocktail napkin.

  “Dios, no,” Matteo said. “We’re friends, roommates, and coworkers, which is plenty. There’s no romantic spark between us.”

  “Matteo doesn’t do romantic,” Allesso said with a teasing grin. “Even if we wanted to, it’d be impossible for us to hook up, because he only sleeps with men once and then avoids them forever. He’d never be able to dodge me in our little apartment.” My cousin rolled his eyes at that.

  “You look like you’re having a good time,” I told Jessie.

  “I am! Everyone’s so friendly,” he said, “but we should probably round up Nana pretty soon and head back to Viladembursa. I can tell she’s starting to get tired.”

  I nodded in agreement and told my cousin I’d see him later in the week. Allesso said, “It was great meeting you. We’re going to head home too while I can still stand. I hope to see you again.” After we said our goodbyes, Matteo put an arm around his friend’s shoulders to steady him and Allessandro hugged my cousin around the waist as they left the club.

  “I hope those two eventually realize they’re meant to be together,” Jessie said.

  “I do, too.” I got up from the table and re-tucked Luca’s black button-down into my new jeans as I looked around for my grandmother. When I spotted her, I said, “Oh man, Nana’s doing body shots off one of the waiters. She’s going to be so drunk.”

  I wasn’t wrong. When Jessie and I reached her, she yelled, “Hi there, Sweetpeas!” She then gestured at a tall, wonderfully flamboyant guy with short hair, a lot of eye makeup and a sequined t-shirt. “Boys, this is Rafael. Rafael, Nico and Jessie. Rafi’s going to bring his dance troupe to Viladembursa tomorrow to help me promote our singles party!”

  We exchanged greetings, and then I told Nana it was time to head home. She hugged Rafael around the waist, swaying a bit, and said, “I don’t want to go. There are so many lovely gay homosexuals here! Look how pretty this one is. I want to keep him!” Rafael smiled at that and reminded her she’d see him the next day.

  After a bit more cajoling, we finally convinced Nana to call it a night. As we headed toward the rental car, she stuck her hand out in an approximation of a dance move called the whip and started swaying her hips. Then she began singing, “I’m just a girl! Na na na na na na na, I’m just a girl!” Apparently those four words were all she knew of that song, but what she lacked in the lyric department, she made up for in volume.

  *****

  She was sound asleep and snoring by the time we got back to the hotel. I carried her up to our suite, deposited Nana in bed and took her shoes off before tucking her under the covers. Jessie was still pretty drunk too, and had stalled out in the middle of the living room, having apparently forgotten what he was supposed to be doing. I guided him to his room with an arm around his shoulders and tucked him into bed, too. He looked up at me and said, “Will you stay with me until I fall asleep? Please?”

  I pulled a chair over and sat beside the bed, and he reached out and took my hand. After a while, he said softly, “I miss my family. I don’t know why I’m thinking about this now…maybe it’s because I’m so far from home. I’m so glad I’m a part of your family now, but still, I miss them, especially my mom. Why’d she stop loving me, Nicky?”

  That made my heart ache. I absolutely didn’t understand how anyone could disown their child for being gay. I reach
ed out with my free hand and stroked his spiky hair. “You didn’t deserve that, Jessie. No one does. And you know what? It’s her loss. You’re one of the sweetest, kindest, most genuine people I’ve ever met, and she and the rest of your family are totally missing out.”

  “Thanks for saying that.” He was quiet for a while before whispering, “I miss all these little things, like this old-school tuna casserole my mom used to make, and the way she’d sing Patsy Cline when she thought no one was listening.” A single tear spilled down his cheek and he added, “Shit. Normally I’m a happy drunk. I don’t know why I have to be a pathetic one tonight.”

  “You’re far from pathetic,” I said as I climbed into bed with him and pulled him into a hug. “A terrible thing happened to you, and you have to let yourself mourn before you can heal.”

  “You’re right. I never did let myself mourn, not once in the four years since I came out and they disowned me,” he said softly as he put his head on my chest and curled up in my arms. He felt so small and fragile. “I just sort of stuffed down all that hurt and scrambled to figure out how I was going to take care of myself. Overall, I think I’m doing pretty good, but the sadness leaks out sometimes. That’s how I know I never fully dealt with it.”

  I went back to stroking his hair as I held him. After a while, his thin body began to shake as he cried silently. I did the only thing I could think of, and quietly began singing Crazy, the one Patsy Cline song I knew the lyrics to. When I reached the end, he whispered, “Thank you. I love you, Nicky.”

  “I love you too, Jessie, and I’m so glad you’re a part of my family.”

  “I can’t even tell you how much that means to me,” he said.

  He drifted off eventually, and I held him until I was sure he was sound asleep. Only then did I slip out of bed. I pulled the blanket up to his shoulders and shut his door behind me as quietly as possible.

  I turned on the light in my room and opened the double doors to let in some fresh air, then stepped onto the balcony and looked around. It was around two a.m., and the piazza was empty. I leaned against the railing and watched the cascading water in the fountain for a while, replaying the conversation with Jessie. He normally seemed like such a cheerful person and acted like he didn’t have a care in the world. I tended to take him at face value, but that conversation showed he was masking a lot of sadness behind his smile.

  After a while, I noticed someone down in the plaza was looking up at me. Luca raised a hand in greeting when I saw him, and I offered a little wave. He pointed to the front door of the hotel, then walked toward it. When he disappeared from sight, I left the suite and waited out in the hall.

  It was really quiet, so I could hear the faint ding of the elevator even at a distance. When Luca rounded the corner, I could tell something was still bothering him. He stopped about six feet from me and said hello.

  “Hi, Luca.”

  “I’m sorry about earlier.”

  “Are you okay?”

  “I will be.”

  “Do you want to talk about whatever was bothering you?”

  “I can’t.”

  “It’s hard to help you if I don’t know what’s wrong.”

  “I don’t need help.”

  “Then what do you need?”

  He closed the distance between us and pulled me into his arms. “This,” he said, a moment before his lips met mine. I wrapped my arms around him as my eyes slid shut and my heart raced. He kissed me with raw passion, then kept holding me tightly as he whispered, “Tell me there’s a chance.”

  “Of what?”

  “This ending up as more than just a summer fling. I need to know there’s at least a possibility,” he whispered as he nuzzled my ear.

  “Definitely.” I didn’t have to think about my answer.

  He kissed me again and held me for a long moment before finally pulling back a bit to look at me. “Can I see you tomorrow?” When I nodded he said, “I’ll find you around lunchtime.” He let go of me and took a step back, then reached out and touched my face.

  “Goodnight, Luca.”

  “Goodnight.” He leaned in and kissed me once more before turning and walking away. When he reached the corner, he looked back and raised his hand in a little wave before disappearing from sight. I had no idea what any of that had been about, but I felt a sense of relief as I returned to the suite.

  Chapter Six

  As it turned out, I was incredibly easy to find the next day. Nana’s new friends from Catania showed up to help her promote her singles party, and like my grandmother, apparently they really didn’t do things halfway. They towed a colorful rainbow-themed parade float into the town square, behind a bright yellow vintage pickup truck. It included a big, hand-lettered sign that announced the singles mixer in Italian, along with the time and location. The float was a bit worn and had probably seen its share of parades and celebrations, but it was still completely charming. So were the half-dozen scantily clad men who piled out of the pickup and a Fiat and started dancing on the float as techno music blared from hidden speakers.

  Jessie helped Nana onto the float and then climbed up after her. She was dressed in a velour rainbow-printed track suit, and Jessie was wearing a colorful tie-dyed t-shirt and white shorts. They both looked at home on the float. Jessie yelled at me to join them and I tried to decline, retreating shyly toward the hotel. But then a guy I recognized from the night before jumped off the float, ran up to me and grabbed my hands. “Andiamo, Nico,” Rafael exclaimed. He was once again fully made up, and was dressed in a tight, shiny, cropped tank top and matching shorts, both bright green, which he’d paired with glittery white platform sandals that made him about six-foot-eight. His enthusiasm was so infectious that I couldn’t refuse.

  When Luca stepped out of the hotel, I was up on the float dancing (kind of) with Rafi. I wasn’t much of a dancer, so all I was doing was swaying a bit to the music while my new friend busted some serious moves around me. I remembered Nana saying something about Rafael bringing his dance troupe, so I didn’t feel bad about being the least-coordinated person on the float.

  I was also the most conservatively dressed by far in my khaki Bermuda shorts, sandals and white, loose-fitting camp shirt, but Rafael soon corrected that by grabbing the hem of my shirt and yanking it off over my head. His friends whooped as he threw the shirt aside, and two of them joined us, pretty much using me as a stripper pole as they gyrated around me.

  I laughed embarrassedly and looked for Luca in the crowd. He was smiling and clapping his hands. I gestured at him to join me, and both he and the two little tween girls in front of him climbed up onto the float and started dancing. “Look at you,” he said, sliding his hands down my bare biceps as he moved to the music.

  “Look at you,” I countered, running my gaze down the flawless dark charcoal suit he was wearing, along with a black shirt that was open at the collar. He was beyond sexy.

  “I’m entirely overdressed.”

  I nodded and yelled over the music, “You make overdressed look good.”

  Nana shimmied off the float, plucked a little old man in a baseball cap from the audience, and brought him back with her. The ever-expanding crowd cheered and applauded as the two of them started dancing enthusiastically. Rafi and his friends followed suit. Each of the gorgeous, sparkling men in heels and makeup jumped off the float and pulled people from the audience. I spotted the lesbian couple from Croatia who we’d met the other night at the bar, and I jumped to the ground, grabbed their hands, and brought them back with me. They looked delighted.

  At least twenty people danced on the float as it began to do a very slow lap around the town square. The dancers had grabbed all kinds of people including a middle-aged pair of tourists, a guy who looked like a banker, a woman in her sixties wearing a babushka and an apron, and a young mom with a toddler. They all seemed to be enjoying themselves.

  Luca pulled me into his arms as we swayed to the music. I was so happy to be sharing that moment with him. Som
eone tugged on his sleeve, and we turned to look at the two young girls who’d climbed up with him. One yelled, “Dance with us,” in Italian, and the four of us joined hands and rocked out. I stopped caring that I couldn’t dance and just had fun, and the girls beamed at us, their smiles a sea of braces.

  When we completed our lap and pulled up in front of the hotel, Jessie and Nana jumped off and started handing out pink flyers advertising the singles party. The dance troupe joined in, and so did Luca and I (after I retrieved my shirt). Soon all the flyers were distributed, and Nana came up to us and exclaimed, “That went real good! Now I don’t know about you, but I could use some refreshments!”

  We joined her and Jessie and the six dancers, all of whom were statuesque in high heels and radiant in their makeup and sparkly outfits. Their short, fairly conservative haircuts were a great contrast to the rest of their look. Our group paraded proudly into the lobby of the hotel, turning every head on our way to the bar.

  As we settled in around three tables that we pushed together, Luca pulled a chair close to mine, kissed my cheek, and said, “Hi.” I was so happy to see the sparkle had returned to his eyes.

  I kissed his lips and said, “Hi yourself.”

  “I have to say, I had no idea I’d be riding a pride float around the town square when I woke up this morning,” he told me.

  “That’s my grandmother’s special brand of magic. I’ve found if you just go with it, you can end up in some pretty remarkable situations.”

  For the next couple hours, alcohol flowed, Nana ordered enough food to feed forty people (which the dancers scarfed down enthusiastically), and the conversation was upbeat and lively. When Nana asked Rafael about his troupe, he told her in Italian, “We were inspired by the American Chippendales, but we wanted to put a glam twist on it. Normally we strip down to glow-in-the-dark jockstraps during our numbers, but we decided to keep it family-friendly on the float.” Good call.