THE NEXT few days passed in a blur. Alex and Cinzia set up a schedule—Gio’s mother was with him during the daytime, and Alex was there at night. It made sense, as they had already gotten used to it. But there was a difference—each day they passed an hour together for breakfast and an hour at dinner, talking and comparing notes.
Cinzia Montanari was a fascinating individual, as Alex was discovering now that they’d gotten past the whole antigay thing. At least for the moment.
She’d been an avvocato—a lawyer—in Italy before Gio was born and now worked in a nonprofit for out-of-work Italians—the disoccupati.
Alex found himself picking up more Italian during their conversations. Stefani often sat in to facilitate the conversation and to get a little practice with someone from Italy.
Alex himself had studied the language for a couple of years when he and Gio first met, and those old lessons came back into his head bit by bit. He was nowhere near fluent, but he could understand a fair amount and could make himself generally understood.
The three of them talked about Italian and American politics—both apparently sucked. They discussed friends and family and the way each had grown up.
Most of all they talked about Gio.
Alex learned that his partner had been a shy child, prone to spending time alone in his room with his older sister’s science textbooks. Alex told them Gio still had a few of them at home… or used to. Cinzia learned that Gio had developed a surprising passion for spicy Mexican dishes during his time in Arizona and that he still missed her every day.
Their friends organized a food delivery service and brought in homemade dishes interspersed with restaurant fare. All of it was better than what the hospital served.
Every night Alex sat with Gio for hours, going over some of the things on his list, hoping to prod Gio’s memories. He’d sent the insurance agent a copy, and the claim was being processed, but he hadn’t had the heart to return to the house again.
Gio sometimes smiled when Alex told his stories, but he didn’t say another word.
In the morning, after breakfast, Alex would return to Oscar’s house to catch up on his sleep and keep track of the day-to-day things he still needed to do.
But he was starting to worry. After the initial signs, Gio wasn’t getting any better.
When did you go from a coma to a permanent vegetative state?
GIO SLOWLY began to adjust to his new normal. He would sleep in his bed for hours at a time, with the covers pulled up over his head so that he didn’t have to stare at the strange gray fog that constantly roiled all around him. He snuggled Devin in his arms, a reminder of the time before this one, of the life he used to live.
He still couldn’t describe that old life with any clarity, not even to himself. Not that there was anyone else to talk to here, although Devin was a good listener.
He was slowly accumulating memories of specific past events. He assumed they were his, but how could he really know? They felt more like movies, very realistic, interactive movies of someone else’s life. They were missing continuity and connection, the glue that should have held them all together in his head.
On a regular basis, during what he’d come to call day in this limbo, Alex would appear, and together they would relive another memory.
Over time, Gio had noticed a pattern. Each of the memories was tied to a specific object—the bed, Devin, the mask, a pair of chopsticks they’d bought in Hawaii. Why that should be so, Gio had no idea.
The items were collecting around the bed in small piles, some stacked on the pieces of furniture that he had relived. The whole place was starting to resemble a bizarre yard sale in heaven.
Every now and then he pushed against the invisible door in his head that he felt might hold some answers. And every time he was blown back by heat and flames.
He looked forward to his visits from Alex. He understood by then that they were a couple and had been together for a long time. Five years? Maybe ten?
Gio found these visits increasingly frustrating. They weren’t so much visits as reenactments, and he longed to pull Alex aside in one of them and have an earnest conversation. To ask him where Gio was, and why.
At the same time, he became aware of another sensation. It was hard to describe, but then again, what wasn’t in this place? It was a sort of yearning, or maybe gravity. The sense that if he just let go, something would pull him out.
He felt it especially strongly after Alex left him. If he closed his eyes, he could almost picture it. Like one of those laser shows in the old Flandrau Planetarium on campus, bathing him in its light.
Like the invisible door, he didn’t know what was behind it. And he wasn’t sure he was ready to find out.
So he continued in this strange existence, waiting for Alex to return.
ALEX SAT at Oscar’s dinner table one afternoon, holding the little green box with the rings and flipping it open, then closed, then open, then closed. They were truly beautiful and had somehow escaped the wrath of the fire—two white gold bands, inlaid with matching parallel lines of turquoise.
He pulled them out of the box and held them in his palm. His brain was telling him that this whole situation was his fault. He should have been there for Gio when it happened. His own bad mood had caused all of this. He certainly didn’t need to be married. After all, it was an outdated heterosexual tradition that dated back to biblical times when women were sold off like chattel. What did it have to do with being gay?
Maybe he didn’t deserve to be married.
And yet his heart looked at the rings, and he felt an almost overwhelming feeling of love for Gio. In the face of Cinzia’s disapproval, of conservative Arizona society’s opinions, even of his own uncertainty and ambivalence, Gio had taken this step into the unknown and had planned to ask Alex to take it with him.
It had been two weeks since the incident—the fire. Alex looked over at the well-worn notepad where he’d listed everything they’d lost.
Well, not everything.
They’d lost each other too. And the cost of that one made the rest pale in comparison.
The doctor had tried to sound encouraging when they’d spoken with him that morning, but Alex was a Realtor—he knew how to read between the lines, a skill he’d honed over years of negotiations. Cozy meant tiny. Fixer-upper meant total wreck.
And we’re still hopeful meant anything but.
If Gio didn’t wake soon, it was likely he never would. And then what?
A car pulled up outside. He hoped it was Oscar. He needed someone to talk to about all this, and he certainly couldn’t discuss same-sex marriage with Cinzia.
The sound of a key in the lock confirmed it, and a minute later, Oscar walked into the kitchen. “Hey there,” he said, looking at his phone. “Aren’t you due at the hospital shortly?” Then he saw what lay in Alex’s hand. “Oh shit.” He sat down abruptly at the table, across from Alex.
“Yeah, shit is about right.” Alex set the rings down on the table between them. “Gio bought them. Before the fire.”
“May I?”
Alex nodded, and Oscar picked one of them up between his thick fingers.
“Nice. Where did you find them?”
“At the house a week and a half ago. I think he was going to propose.”
Oscar nodded. “Sure looks that way.” He set the ring down and leaned back in his chair. “So, Gio was going to propose to the King of No Commitments?”
Alex hung his head. “I’ve been killing myself over these. When I came home that night, he had this romantic dinner ready for me. But I was in a mood. I had just had a shit day, and I didn’t want to talk.”
Oscar put a hand over his. “You couldn’t have known.”
Alex looked up at his friend. His voice broke as he asked, “What if he doesn’t come back to me?” He blinked back tears.
“Don’t be crazy. He’s coming back. Gio’s a fighter.”
Alex couldn’t tell if Oscar was really sure or was just
trying to convince himself. But he nodded. “He is.”
“Alex….”
Alex looked at his friend expectantly.
“You have to tell him.”
“Tell him what?”
“What you just told me. And you need to give him an answer.”
Alex swallowed hard. An answer. He nodded. “You’re right.” The rings lay between them like an accusation.
Or was it a promise?
ALEX MADE the short drive back to the hospital, half an hour later than usual. The monsoon storms from earlier in the week had moved on, and the last of the clouds were making the beginnings of a brilliant sunset over the desert, their pink hues stretching across half the sky and deepening into orange and red and almost to black.
The early night sky held that particular deep, velvety blue color it took on sometimes when the conditions were right, just before the stars began to wink into view. Alex rolled down his window, breathing in the fresh desert air.
For a few minutes, he let his concerns and fears and guilt melt away in the wind, his car almost driving itself down this, by now, well-worn path.
Then he arrived at the hospital. He parked, gathered his things, and entered the lobby, feeling a little sick to his stomach. His heart pumped a little faster than normal.
The elevator seemed to take forever to climb the two floors to where Gio waited for him. Oscar had been right. He needed to tell Gio some things while there was still time to say them, just in case—
He couldn’t finish the thought. It was better that he say them now.
Cinzia was waiting for him, a concerned look in her eyes. “Sei un po’ in ritardo. Tutto a posto?” she asked.
He nodded. “I know I’m late—mi dispiace. Just had some thinking to do. Dovevo pensare.”
He entered Gio’s room. Rosalind was there, tending to Geo’s burns. Already his skin looked better and healthier on his forearms. His shins were still an angry red.
She finished and nodded to him, starting to leave.
“Can you stay a moment?” he asked. He could use all the support he could get for this.
“Sure,” she said, sounding surprised. “Whatever you need.”
Alex realized that Cinzia had also followed him into the room. Nothing he could do about that; she would have found out soon enough.
He sat down next to Gio, took his hand, kissed it, then took a deep breath and started to speak. “Gio, I know you can hear me. Somewhere deep inside there, you hear what I’m saying.” It was more a plea than a statement. “I have some things to say to you. Important things. And I’m afraid if I don’t do it now, I may never have the chance.”
He took another breath. He was having a hard time getting the words out, but he couldn’t delay any longer. It was time. “Gio, I am so sorry I wasn’t there for you that night. If I could change just one thing in my life, I would stay. I should have stayed to protect you. I should have….” Alex was, for a moment, physically unable to speak. He squeezed Gio’s hand as hard as he dared, then forced himself to go on. “It’s my fault you are here. If I hadn’t been such an ass, if I hadn’t run away…. If I lose you, I’ll never forgive myself.”
He felt Rosalind come sit next to him, putting her arm around his shoulder. He glanced at her, grateful for the small kindness, then looked back at Gio, hoping for some sign that he’d been heard. Gio’s chest rose and fell at the same even pace, and his face was as peaceful and unmoving as a painted angel’s.
He pushed ahead. “All those times you wanted something more from me, when I said I wasn’t ready, there was something wrong with me, not you.
“When I said we didn’t need to be like straight couples, that just living together was enough of a fuck you to the world. I was wrong. I need you to come back to me. Nothing would be the same without you.” Alex sobbed but pulled himself back together.
He felt another hand on his shoulder. He looked up and was surprised to see Cinzia. She bent down and took his face in her hands and kissed him on the forehead.
“Continua pure.”
He nodded.
Stefani had come in at some point and was whispering to Cinzia. There were others from the hospital too, standing in the room, bearing witness to Alex’s confession, and before he could go on to the final part, Oscar, Dax, and Mario came in together. Each one came up behind him and gave him a quick hug.
“Got your back,” Oscar whispered, shooting a sidelong glance at Cinzia.
Alex smiled just a little. “Here goes,” he whispered to himself. He put his hand in his pocket and pulled out the fire-warped ring box, opened it up, and took out the two rings. There was an audible gasp, but he could only see Gio. The room narrowed down to just the two of them.
“I found these at home among the ashes. The one thing the fire didn’t destroy.” He held the rings up, and they sparkled in the florescent light. “Gio, I love you with all my heart. I was a fool when I said I didn’t want to get married before. I see that now. I’m yours, if you will have me.”
There was only this moment. This place. Alex’s hand holding Gio’s, gently because of the burns on the back of Gio’s arm. The sound of the heart rate machine came in regular soft beeps.
The little green box in Alex’s other hand and all it symbolized between them.
All their life together had shrunk down to this moment, this place, this plea. “Please wake up, Gio. Amore mio, svegliati.”
The whole world seemed to spin to a stop while he watched Gio for a response. A word, a smile, his eyes opening. Even a change in his breathing.
Alex waited.
Nothing happened.
After a moment, Alex’s shoulders slumped, and he began to sob uncontrollably. Gio was really, truly lost to him.
He had waited too long.
GIO WOKE up in his bed, expecting one of Alex’s memories to come for him, but this time there was nothing. No change in the air. No new scene for him to behold. No shiny object for him to bring back to his little rabbit hole.
Alex isn’t coming back.
Gio knew it in his bones. The strange alchemy that had allowed them to reach one another in this limbo was gone.
He sat up, pushing the sheets back. Devin was lying there next to him, his glass eyes staring vacantly up at the sky.
Once again Gio felt that strange pull, and this time he stood and looked around, trying to tell where it came from.
He was tired of this half-life in the shadows. He was tired of disjointed memories that faded away into the mist when they had run their course.
He was drained, and Alex was gone.
Over there.
Gio felt the strange attraction, like the air rushing out of a bubble. There was a current in the mist, and he decided to follow it. It pulled him along, ever so slowly, away from Devin and the bed and the mask and the chopsticks and all the other things he’d collected from memory lane, and out into the ether.
He walked slowly through the mists along with it, and as he did, he felt a pleasing numbness start to settle along his shoulders. It worked its way inward, like Novocain at the dentist’s office, and soon he was feeling no more pain. Another few moments and he would walk into blissful oblivion.
“Gio!”
He spun around at the sound of his name. Alex. He could still see the bed and the memories Alex’s visits had brought to him in the distance, lit up as if by a spotlight.
They seemed so far away. It would be so much easier to keep walking away from them all.
If I lose you, I will never forgive myself.
It would be easier to walk away. But sometimes you had to fight for what you wanted.
He started back toward the bed, forcing one foot in front of the other, but it was like walking through water—or syrup. Behind him, oblivion whispered his name too. Once again he almost stopped.
“Gio, I love you with all my heart.”
Alex was speaking to him. Not the memory of Alex. Alex himself was here with him, somehow. Gio redoubled his
efforts, struggling against the mists that held him back.
Then he felt the heat behind the invisible door, the thing that had happened to him, that had damaged him and left him in this place.
The one thing the fire didn’t destroy.
The fire. The thing that had happened was a fire.
All at once he was in hell.
Gio cried after Alex stormed out. He grabbed the plates off the table and threw them into the sink along with the food, hurt and angry at Alex’s reaction. He had planned everything so carefully, been so sure.
Alex hadn’t even listened.
Gio grabbed one candlestick and knocked over the other in his haste to erase the evidence of his horrible mistake. He watched as it fell onto the colorful tablecloth they’d bought together in Mexico and looked on in horror as the cloth caught fire, flaring up as if it were covered in gasoline.
He ran into the kitchen, grabbed a pot of water, and ran back to fling it over the flames, but the grease in the pot only fueled the fire, which was already spreading up to the rafters above.
He had to get out of the house.
He ran into the bedroom and grabbed Devin, but the fire had already cut off his escape route through the dining room to the front door, and the curtains and wall in the bedroom were on fire. He backed away into the kitchen as the smoke quickly filled the house.
There was fire everywhere he looked. How had it spread so quickly? There was no place for him to run. He dropped down to the floor to try to escape the heavy black smoke, which burned his nostrils and throat with a strong chemical smell.
It was a temporary reprieve. The smoke filled the house in billowing waves, the heat of it making him sweat, until there was no clean air left even along the floor. He huddled against the wall as the air turned hot and foul around him, his heart pounding and his eyes watering from the burning air. Gio held Devin to his chest, trying to back away from the flames and heat and smoke, but they were everywhere. He couldn’t breathe.
He gasped for air.
He was going to die there.
Everything blurred, then went black, and the heat finally went away.
A More Perfect Union Page 7