by Con Riley
“Pah! I know attraction when I see it. Look at the way he follows him with his eyes. The blond is walking away. I give him less than a minute to follow.”
By the time they cleared security and boarded, Ben would have complete strangers married off. His mom was just as imaginative.
“Theo, will everyone on the flight be going on vacation?”
“I doubt it, Mom. We stop over in New York. There are lots of reasons for people to go there.”
“Do you think many people on this flight will go all the way to Milan with us? That couple look very happy. Maybe it’s their honeymoon.”
“Maybe, Mom.” He couldn’t help wishing that Ben was with them—really with them—instead of safely stowed away in his carry-on bag. If he’d been there, making his own fun as usual, at least his mom would have someone to talk to. Ben’s fun side would have surprised her. His dad was almost dozing already, and Theo badly wished for some quiet time to think. As their flight was called and they followed the boarding instructions, he hoped his mom would follow his dad’s example. The man could sleep standing up.
Luck wasn’t on Theo’s side. His mom talked for pretty much the whole first leg of their journey, finding everything interesting, from the in-flight safety demonstration to the transfer between aircraft. By the time they finally took off toward Milan on their second flight, Theo felt like he’d been babysitting Maggie’s toddler all day long. He’d booked business-class seats for the Atlantic crossing, figuring that his parents would appreciate the increased comfort on the longer flight. Right after dinner, and within minutes of reclining her seat, his mom slipped into sleep.
“What’s going on with Morgan, son?”
His dad’s voice was low but firm, leaving Theo feeling like he was thirteen years old and standing at the bottom of the ladder outside their house all over again. That tone of voice meant that he expected an answer.
“Come on now, Theo. You’ve been as white as a sheet all day. I know that this isn’t exactly a vacation, but something big is on your mind. You’ll feel better if you spill it, son.” He’d said pretty much the same thing a few times to Theo over the years and looking back. Theo realized he’d always been right. Back then, things that seemed pretty terrible got easier to deal with once his dad helped him think shit through.
“Something happened to Morgan before we were together. It’s pretty shocking. He didn’t tell me about it, and now I don’t know how to help him.”
“Does he need you to help him, son? Seems like he’s a full-grown man already.”
Theo chewed on his lip.
“Did you know everything about Ben’s life before you two got together?” His dad pitched his voice low as the flight attendants passed. He added, “Maybe you should ask yourself if you really need to know.”
“I think I do need to know about this, Dad. I think it’s a big thing. A bad thing, only I don’t know enough because he won’t talk to me about it. I’m certain it’s still affecting him now.” He looked at his dad, just inches away and so similar to Theo that Ben always said it was like looking at his future. “I don’t know how to get Morgan to talk to me.”
Theo was desperate to talk to him. He had woken early that morning with Morgan attached to him like a limpet on a tide-pool rock. For a moment he wondered if he had dreamed the events of last night. Morgan slept on his side, cuddled into Theo, his leg hooked over one of Theo’s and his arm draped heavily across his chest. When Theo turned his head a little, he had a close-up view of the side of Morgan’s face. In the faint light cast by the street lamp outside, he looked so peaceful. Then Theo remembered the awful bruising he’d had the very first time he saw him at the shelter. The whole side of his face had been swollen and scraped as if…. As if….
Theo lay there, wrapped up in Morgan, and had a waking nightmare where someone grabbed Morgan by the long, silky-looking hair he used to have, and swung him, using their full force, into the rough, exposed brickwork at his old apartment. He bet that was exactly what happened. He bet that was why Morgan had cut his hair. The first time Theo saw Morgan afterward, his hair had been so short that he’d resembled a convict. Maybe he’d felt like a prisoner before then.
What sort of person could do that to another human being? What made someone hurt the person they shared their life with? Morgan was the last person he would expect to put up with that shit. It wasn’t as if he couldn’t look after himself—he was very streetwise—and while he was slim, he wasn’t exactly small and weak.
Peter had talked about weakness. He described how mothers could lift cars to rescue their own trapped children—he’d seen that shit for himself—or walk through fire if they thought their babies were on the other side of a wall of flames. But those same people would stay in relationships where they were abused. It made no fucking sense.
Peter had also talked about finding ways to encourage people to leave, and how some paramedic divisions were more successful at that shit. What had he said about statistics? It took some people getting injured three times before they left, if they were lucky. Three times. He’d seen the results of what he guessed was Morgan’s last straw. He could see the evidence of a broken collarbone every single time Morgan got into bed. What else had happened to him? What else hadn’t been bad enough to make someone call 911?
“Son? Son, do you need a drink? You look mighty green there.”
Theo nodded. He needed something all right. There was no way that he couldn’t talk to Morgan about this. This was too big—far, far too big—to chalk down to things that happened before they got together.
He accepted a ginger ale from the attendant, took a few sips, and then huffed out a shaky breath.
“I can see that this really is bothering you, son. Perhaps a few days away will be a good thing for both of you.”
Theo wasn’t so sure about that. When Morgan woke that morning, his eyes had opened slowly, and when he found Theo gazing at him from just a few inches away, he’d smiled and pressed a small, dry kiss to Theo’s lips. He’d gone from that to snuggling in even closer, humping his hip a little and kissing his shoulder, as if nothing had happened. Theo had felt the moment—the split second—when Morgan recalled their silent standoff of the night before. He’d gone from relaxed to tense in a heartbeat, then pulled away.
Yeah, being alone was the opposite of a good idea for Morgan right now. He’d declined Theo’s offer of a ticket to fly with them, then very quietly lost his temper when Theo suggested canceling his trip.
“Don’t you dare. Don’t you fucking dare. Too many people want to see you, Theo. What are you going to tell them? How would you explain bailing at the last minute? ‘My boyfriend was a fucking idiot’? No fucking way. Just pretend it didn’t happen. If I can, you can too, Theo. Just forget it.”
He’d still been tight with anger when Theo left, his face set into an impassive mask, nodding as Theo said good-bye. He’d nodded—slowly—a second time when Theo asked if he would still be home when he returned, then pulled him in for a quick, fierce hug, nodding faster into his neck, hiding his miserable expression. Honestly, Theo wasn’t sure what to expect. He just didn’t want Morgan to run. He couldn’t think about that scenario without feeling sick.
“I shouldn’t have come. I think he needs someone right now. Right now, Dad. I think he’s needed someone just for himself for a long, long time.”
His mom’s hand slid into his, curling around his fingers. Theo turned to look at her.
“I think you need each other, Theo.” His mom smiled, her eyes sleepy and a little shiny. “The way he looks at you…. You’re already very special to each other.”
His dad held onto his other hand. “You’ll think of a way to communicate, son. We’ll only be gone for a week. Maybe that’s just long enough to figure things out.”
He sat between his parents as they flew toward Milan, hoping that they were right.
THEO checked them into a small, simple little hotel set in a courtyard just a few streets away from t
he hustle and bustle of central Milan. He and Ben had stayed there often, especially after Marco started to find it uproariously funny to crawl into bed with Theo when they used to stay with Ben’s family.
The first time Theo woke to an armful of what felt exactly like Ben, only a little tighter around the abdomen, maybe, he put it down to a teenage prank. The second and third times that Marco stumbled in at the crack of dawn, climbed over his brother, and slid in next to a barely conscious Theo had resulted in Theo threatening to wedge a chair under the door handle. Ben thought it was all hilarious.
“You should let me record the two of you next time, Theo. I could make a fortune. You are both so very pretty.” Theo had pulled the sheet up to his chin, ordered Marco from their room, and insisted they check into a hotel.
Ben said he was too hard on his brother. “He is my mamma’s good luck; that’s why she named him Marco Fortunato—Marco after my papà, Fortunato because of her good luck to have him after Papà passed away. Marco always gets exactly what he wants. And why not? Bambini should be spoiled. He was only playing with you.”
When identical pairs of warm brown eyes crinkled at their corners, and smiles so similar they could have come from twins beamed at him, Theo always felt slightly dazed. Honestly, the way Marco was treated by his whole family left him shaking his head back when he wasn’t yet thirty and Marco was still a teen. Now that Theo was in his forties, he could see the appeal of having someone to indulge a little. He liked having someone to look after too. In fact, he loved it.
“This is lovely, Theo.” His mom sat on her bed as his dad unpacked their things, placing Ben’s box carefully on top of a dresser. “I don’t know why I’m so tired.”
Theo did. His parents were in their seventies and had just spent practically a full day crossing the globe to do something that wasn’t exactly fun. He left them settling in for a nap, promising to wake them in plenty of time to go to dinner at the de Luca home. He headed along the hallway and had a moment where he thought worry and lack of sleep had finally caught up with him.
Ben stood outside his hotel room door.
“Ciao, tesoro. I have been waiting so long for you.”
Theo nodded, his throat completely constricted, his vision blurring. Warm, strong, familiar arms wrapped around him, and he felt kisses pressed onto his cheeks, just like he had nearly every morning and evening for fifteen years. As those arms loosened and began to pull away, Theo held on, pulling him closer instead, burying his face into his neck.
When Theo stood in a hotel hallway over five thousand miles from home and finally sobbed for what he’d lost, Ben’s brother, Marco, held him up.
“WHAT is it about you Americans, Theo? Why do you all cry so?” Marco raised his brows over Theo’s mom’s shoulder.
Watching her have the same reaction to Marco had left Theo a little choked. His dad wasn’t much better, surreptitiously swiping at his eyes with the back of his hand. “I did warn them that you resemble your brother.” His mom turned and hugged him too.
“Resemble? They could be twins.”
It was true. The older Marco got, the more like Ben he looked. Now in his early thirties, he was the image of Ben when they first met. Theo squeezed his mom, then asked if she was ready to leave for dinner. She hung on a little harder.
“Are they all like him?”
Marco answered for him. “No, I am the only short one. My brothers are all giants. And stupid. But they can’t help that. Do not judge them harshly. Mamma only made two clever children.”
Theo could tell that his mom had absolutely no idea what to make of Marco. By the time they had fought their way through the early evening Milanese traffic, Marco had told so many tall tales and had made them all laugh so much that they were smiling when they climbed from his car.
“Wait. I will get Mamma.” Marco headed inside while Theo turned to his parents.
“Thank you so much for doing this with me. I’m not sure I could have made myself come on my own.”
His dad held his arm. “It’s the least we can do, son.” His grip was firm and reassuring.
“I just want you to prepare yourself. Ben’s family might seem a little loud….” Before Theo could finish, the front door opened and several children ran out, heading right for Theo, smiling up at him and shouting their greetings. They were followed by several sets of parents—Ben’s other brothers and their wives—as well as Marco. They surrounded Theo’s little family, exchanging so many kisses that Theo thought his dad might go into shock. When his mom grabbed his hand, he put down one of his nieces and bent to hear what his mom had to say.
“Theo, is that….” Ben’s mother stood at the top of the pale marble steps that led to her home. With her steel gray hair pulled back into a knot and black dress fitting her perfectly, she looked as elegant as Theo remembered. He climbed the steps to greet her, pulling her into an embrace. They whispered greetings to each other and swapped kisses. She stopped his apologies by placing her palm over his mouth. Her English was almost perfect.
“Do not give apologies for your sorrow. Just keep coming home, Theo. Never stop coming home to me. Losing two sons was too hard.”
He nodded, kissing the back of her hand, then turned toward his parents.
Watching his mother present Ben’s with the box carrying his ashes was humbling, extraordinarily touching. His mom’s face was streaked with tears as Ben’s mamma thanked her for looking after her son.
The two women entered the house together, side by side. After a few moments, someone pinched Theo’s cheek, saying that he still looked like a boy, while another brother started pointing out his gray hairs. Theo shrugged at his dad as if to say “I warned you,” and they all headed in together.
It was a wonderful dinner.
At several points, fistfights almost broke out among the brothers.
When all the de Luca men were together, every opinion was strong. Whether discussing the wine set out along the table in terra-cotta coolers, or the food—so many different courses, all fragrant, all wonderful—the brothers’ tempers flared and spats broke out at regular intervals. No one paid the slightest attention, apart from Theo’s parents. It wasn’t long before his mom put her fork down and folded her hands in her lap.
“Are they always like this?” Her voice was a whisper.
“No.” Theo shook his head slowly.
“Oh. Thank goodness for that.”
“They are being very polite tonight, in your honor. This is the quietest I have ever seen them.”
His mom’s eyes were huge. When she watched two brothers have a particularly vitriolic exchange, she asked Theo to translate.
“Okay, hang on. Yes… yes… I understand.” He nodded thoughtfully, then turned to his mom. “Paulo is having a slight disagreement with Toni. This is a long-running dispute; there have been many twists and turns in the debate. Paulo is a high-ranking government official, and he believes that his decisions should be adhered to. His brother is younger by eleven months—that is why Paulo keeps calling him ‘little boy’, even though Toni is three inches taller—and that is another reason why Paolo feels he should give in. I remember this quarrel. It’s been going on for years.” He shook his head sadly.
“Oh, Theo. How terrible. What on earth can be worth this much arguing?”
“Parmigiano.”
His mother blinked at him.
“Paulo thinks the recipe needs more cheese. Toni says less.”
“Theo Anderson, you’ve got to be kidding me.” He shook his head, then watched as his mom relived her very own disagreement about cheese. “Ben sounded as if he were arguing with me. I figured he thought I was stupid.”
Theo held her hand.
“Theo, did he want me to argue back?” She gestured around the table. They were surrounded by a happily chatting, arguing, loving family. “Did he talk to me that way because that’s what they do here?”
He nodded. “He thought he could treat you like family. It confused him when he
couldn’t, and I didn’t realize early enough. It didn’t matter how many times I tried to intervene later, or to translate. I guess you had to see this for yourself. I’m so sorry I didn’t bring you sooner.”
She shook her head, and his dad leaned in a little closer, saying, “You told us, son. You explained, but this…. Yeah, this is something else.” He paused and took a sip of wine before adding, “He was such a good man, Theo.”
Watching his mom sit opposite Ben’s, nodding in agreement with his dad, Theo felt as if he might have finally set things straight. He raised his glass.
“Ben de Luca,” he toasted.
He had been a wonderful partner, so full of energy and excitement. He put Theo first before anything, or anyone, else. He was annoying and quirky, yet kind and supportive. Ben never failed to listen, and when Theo looked around the table at his extended Italian family and his tiny American one, he guessed that by always listening, he taught Theo how important it was to be heard.
Theo wanted Morgan then. He wanted to be there for Morgan to talk to, when he was ready. He wanted to be the one that Morgan turned to, that he could rely on like Theo had relied—so much, so fucking much—on Ben.
He raised his glass again.
“To Ben.”
Chapter 23
THEO sat with Marco, sipping espresso under the huge glass dome of the Galleria Vittorio Emanuele, watching from a distance as his dad trailed behind his mom. She was like a magpie seeking out treasures, dipping into each store along the glassed-over arcade of boutiques and bookstores. From their position on the far side of the central octagonal area, they had a clear view of his parents’ progress.
“She is a skilled shopper, Theo. See the way she looks and compares, then backtracks to make her final decision. Your mamma has patience.”
Theo thought it was his dad who had the most patience. He carried her bags and nodded through storefront windows as she pointed out objects that caught her eye. At one point, he turned and rolled his eyes at the boys, but he smiled as he did so. Theo knew he was relieved to have gotten the day before out of the way.