Roman Song

by Brian Kennedy

  For sometimes we loved lightly; ah, but more times we loved long,

  And when I think about you I know where I belong.

  Last time you said you loved me, and you put my world at ease;

  Now you’re far from me — ah, come back, darling, please.

  Fergal couldn’t sing any more. He broke down momentarily, turning away from the audience, but Fintan started clapping, and it spread until the whole room was wild with support. Fergal was afraid to look at Alfredo, but when he did, his teacher was crying unashamedly. He got up from the piano, went to him and hugged him. The front row stood up, clapping and calling for more, then the middle rows followed, and then the rest of the room. Some of the house lights came up and Fergal was able to see Fintan more clearly. As their eyes met, Fintan threw a rose onto the stage, and it landed at Fergal’s feet.

  They managed to quiet the room, and Fergal sang another lament - this one from the final act of Puccini’s Tosca, when Cavaradossi is going to be executed. When the last note of ‘E lucevan le stelle’ ended, Signore Angelo Arnelli of the Institute of Music led the clapping and the standing ovation.

  When Fergal finally left the stage, he thought he was going to collapse. Angela was the first into the dressing room to see him. She was beside herself. She couldn’t figure out where his voice had come from. The room filled up with well-wishers and friends of Alfredo’s who wanted to meet his sensational protégé . Fergal searched the room for any sign of a red bunch of curls, but none arrived.

  When they finally left for home, Fergal asked Alfredo, ‘Did you see Fintan?’

  Alfredo looked at him as if he were mad. ‘Fintan Fiscetti, here? Tonight? I didn’t see him. Are you sure?’

  Suddenly Daniela piped up. ‘That’s who I saw going into the men’s room! I knew I recognised him, but I couldn’t place him. Yes, the tenor’s son. He was running, but I saw him.’

  Fergal was glad, but he was wild with tension and excitement. Where was Fintan now?

  They stayed up at Alfredo’s, drinking wine. Fergal couldn’t relax, but he pretended everything was fine because of his mother. She told him that her favourite part of the evening had been when he had dedicated ‘Kathleen’ to her. Daniela plied her with brandy, and by midnight she needed her son’s strong arm to get up the stairs to bed.

  Alfredo was also exhausted, but thrilled. ‘You broke new ground tonight, Fergal. I’m glad I had the foresight to record the recital.’

  ‘It was recorded? My God, I’m glad I didn’t know that beforehand!’

  Alfredo smiled. ‘Precisely!’

  They talked about Fintan’s possible whereabouts, and Alfredo even phoned Brendan to see if he knew anything, but there was no answer. ‘There’s nothing else we can do but wait till morning,’ Alfredo said at last. ‘He should have this number. I wonder why he didn’t let us know he was coming?’

  At that moment, the phone in the hall rang. Alfredo knew to let Fergal get it.

  ‘Fintan?’

  ‘How did you know?’

  ‘My God! I saw you tonight at the recital, and I thought I was seeing things.’

  ‘I know. Sorry I didn’t stay around afterwards, I just got a bit, you know ... overwhelmed.’

  ‘Where are you now?’

  ‘Guess.’

  ‘I’ve no idea.’

  ‘The hotel. I got a good last-minute rate because of Dad. Please say you’ll come over.’

  ‘I’m on my way.’

  Alfredo reassured him that it was okay as long as he promised to be back for breakfast, and he managed to get a taxi in no time. Fintan was waiting for him in reception.

  They didn’t embrace. All Fintan said was, ‘Hey.’

  ‘Hey.’

  ‘That was some concert,’ Fintan said in the lift.

  ‘Do you think so? I was dying with nerves.’

  ‘Well, I’d never have known.’

  They had reached Fintan’s floor. He searched for his key and Fergal was glad to see that he had a completely different room; it was like a clean start. They sat down on the sofa, and for the first time they were shy of each other.

  Fergal was the first to speak. He was still so fuelled by the concert that the silence made him want to burst. ‘Fintan, I’m so glad you came back. I’m sorry I’ve been so...so up myself. It’s just...’ He ran out of steam.

  Fintan turned to face him. ‘Just what?’

  ‘It’s just that I was so scared. I’d convinced myself I wasn’t good enough for you, and so I ended up pushing you away before you had a chance to push me. I know it sounds mad, but that’s how I felt, because...’ Fergal ran out of breath again. His heart was making a racket in his chest. ‘Because you really touched me, and then you hurt me, and my head was all upside down.’

  ‘Oh God, Fergal, I’m so sorry. I know I can be a real insensitive wanker at times. I think I was trying to protect myself too. You know, getting involved with a singer woke up all this resentment I had about my dad always being away. I know I need to think about other people more. It’s hard when you’re an only child. I’m sorry - I never want us to fight again. But you hurt me too, you know.’

  ‘I know, I can see that now. And I’m sorry too, for being so over-dramatic.’

  ‘I think it was a good thing we didn’t see each other for a bit. It really brought things into focus. I’m miserable without you.’

  ‘And me without you.’ Fergal thought he would never breathe again.

  Their apologies evaporated, and they reached for each other. The heat of their kisses rose, and without another word they undressed each other quickly and fell onto the bed, making up for lost time.

  ‘Fintan,’ Fergal whispered, ‘I’ve missed you so much. I want to feel you inside me. Will you?’

  ‘Are you sure?’

  ‘Be careful, won’t you?’

  ‘I will, I will.’

  Fintan pushed a pillow under Fergal’s lower back and positioned himself above him. As they kissed, Fintan gently pressed the stiff tip of himself against Fergal’s opening and moved his whole body forward, very slowly, so he could stop at the slightest sign of resistance. Fergal looked at the man on top of him and wanted nothing more than to stay in that moment forever. ‘Go on, Fintan. I want to feel you inside me.’

  They exhaled together, and slowly Fintan was able to move inside him. Although it was uncomfortable at first, he began to relax into it, and it felt better and better. Fintan’s rhythm sped up.

  He leaned forward, supporting himself on his outstretched arms, so that he could kiss his lover as they stayed attached to each other in their slow, sure sex.

  ‘Are you okay?’ Fintan asked, but Fergal was only able to answer breathlessly, ‘Don’t stop.’ He grabbed the back of Fintan’s thighs, and their bodies pushed against each other with greater and greater urgency.

  ‘Fergal, are you near? I’m going to...oh, God...’

  With one swift movement, Fintan pulled out of him, and they exploded together.

  Fintan collapsed on top of Fergal and they lay there, still drunk - drunk on the evening and on each other. Slowly, they drifted into a blurred sleep.

  Fergal was the first to wake, when he heard someone shouting in a far-off piazza through the open windows. Fintan had rolled off to one side and was still unconscious. Fergal stretched his neck to see the clock on the bedside cabinet. It was 4.46 am.

  He lay still for another moment, inhaling the scent of Fintan’s neck. Then he began kissing and nuzzling him lightly, and gradually he began to respond. Fergal whispered into his ear, ‘I want to remember this night forever, Fintan - the smell of you, the taste of you, the feel of you.’

  Finally they rolled apart, and Fergal slid off the bed and dressed in the dark.

  ‘What time is it?’ Fintan managed to say from some sleepy, dark valley.

  ‘It’s early, nearly five.’

  ‘Jesus, why are you up?’

  ‘I should head back to Alfredo’s. My mother is there and we’re going
to have breakfast together. Will you come?’

  ‘Do you want me to?’

  ‘Of course! I don’t want to be apart from you again. I can’t believe you came back for the recital.’

  ‘I couldn’t stay in London, I was driving Dad mad. I missed you - I really did. Can we start over?’

  ‘Of course, of course. Oh God, Fintan, don’t leave me again. I need you.’

  ‘I need you too.’

  They held hands for another silent moment. Then Fergal got up to leave, but Fintan wouldn’t let his hand go, so he pulled him up and they moved to the door, kissing again.

  ‘I love you, Fergal. I do.’

  ‘I know. And I love you, Fintan.’ And then he was out the door. Fergal walked slowly back across the city as the morning sky began to show its true colours. He let himself into Alfredo’s house as silently as he’d left and curled up in bed for a few more hours’ sleep. His night with Fintan was over, but he prayed that their renewed love had just begun.

  Alfredo had invited Salvatore to breakfast, and Fergal was the last to join them. By the time he reluctantly dragged himself out of bed, even Fintan had rung to say he was about to head over in a taxi. Angela was talking non-stop about the concert and how much Fergal reminded her of her own departed father. She just couldn’t get used to the fact that people - strangers - were being so nice to her and handing her cups of tea and food. She’d never eaten a meal she hadn’t cooked herself since her wedding day. When Fintan arrived and was introduced, she told him, ‘God, love, your ginger hair is lovely - not as mad as some of them. And you with an English accent and all!’

  She had no idea that she had just met her son’s lover. Fergal, wisely, had decided that that information could wait.

  After a perfect, slow breakfast, Angela and Fergal decided to go back to the Vatican. Angela wanted to light more candles and buy rosary beads. Fergal took Fintan aside and asked if they could meet again that night.

  Fintan smiled at him. ‘You should spend this time with your mum. Let’s meet on Monday, after she’s gone? I could sleep for a week anyway.’

  Fergal reluctantly agreed.

  It turned out to be a good idea. Alfredo headed off with Salvatore, and Fergal and his mother walked all day. Fintan seemed like a dream to him, now that they were apart again.

  ‘What are you going to do with the house in Walker Street?’ he asked his mother.

  She looked at him as if he were mad. ‘Live in it, of course. What else?’

  ‘I don’t know. How do you think you’ll like living on your own?’

  ‘Jesus, I can’t wait. But I think Ciaran will be there for another wee while. Everybody grows up so quick, though. I’d say another few years and they’ll all be married.’

  They stopped to buy an ice cream, and Angela, in her new candour, suddenly asked, ‘Is that ginger, fella a poof too?’

  ‘Fintan?’

  ‘Yes. Jesus, I’m terrible with names. I thought it was Vincent or something. Maybe my ears are going.’

  ‘Well, yes, he’s gay too.’

  ‘Jesus, is the whole world...gay?’

  Fergal laughed. ‘Not quite.’

  As they were walking through St Peter’s Square again, a tall woman stopped them and said she had been at the recital and had been moved to tears. She asked Fergal for his autograph, and Angela couldn’t believe it. ‘Jesus, Fergal, wait till I tell everybody at home!’ They had their photograph taken by a little man hovering with an instant camera, and Fergal bought two copies, one for each of them to keep.

  ‘Are you glad you came, Mammy?’

  ‘Of course. It’s been the best weekend of my life. I only wish I’d done it years ago. Mind you, we never had a bean.’

  ‘Well, just so as you know, I’m really glad you came too.’

  All Angela could do was stroke the side of his face, and this time he didn’t flinch. Fergal’s heart had never felt so open - he knew that had a lot to do with Fintan’s return - and he realised it had taken his mother all her strength to get on that plane. He could only admire her for it. He had never imagined that he could have such an easy time with her, that he could actually enjoy seeing her. He also saw how funny she was, in her own way, now that she was out of Belfast and more able to be herself. It was as if he was seeing her for the first time. Father Mac was right, of course - forgiveness was everything, and he knew that at last he had started to forgive.

  At the airport the next morning, Alfredo gave Angela a beautiful set of rosary beads that he had bought in the market. He and Fergal saw her off, and this time, when mother and son hugged it wasn’t nearly as uncomfortable.

  ‘Mammy, travel safe, won’t you? And ring us if you need anything.’

  ‘I will, of course. Fergal, will you write to me? I want to hear how you get on. I can’t wait to tell everybody about the concert. I don’t know where you got that voice from, son.’

  ‘Maybe your daddy gave it to me.’

  It was the best thing he could have said to her. Angela blinked away tears.

  ‘You know you can come again, Mammy, don’t you?’

  ‘You are welcome any time,’ Alfredo chimed in.

  ‘Thanks, Freddie, love. You’re awful kind.’

  Then Angela turned on her wee heels and was gone, feeling more rested than she ever had in her life.

  ★

  When they got back to the house, Fintan was on the steps. They went inside, and Alfredo vanished into the kitchen to make coffee.

  ‘I have something for you,’ Fintan said. He handed Fergal an envelope.

  ‘What is it?’

  ‘Open it and find out!’

  Inside, Fergal found two train tickets to Florence.

  ‘Oh my God, I’ve wanted to go there for ages!’

  ‘Well, pack a bag. We’re going for four days.’

  ‘What? I can’t. My job - Alfredo—’

  At that moment Alfredo came back into the front room, humming, and he handed Fergal an envelope too.

  ‘What’s going on?’

  Alfredo smiled at him. ‘It’s all been organised. Giovanni will cover for you. And this’ - he tapped the other envelope - ‘is some of the profit from the recital, to go towards your trip to Florence.’ It was all too much for Fergal - he burst into tears. Fintan placed careful kisses on his eyelids as the tears began to dry and told him everything would be all right.

  ‘It’s just all been so mad lately - you know, seeing my mother again and actually enjoying her company, and now you, Fintan, you’re back, and I’m so relieved...’

  ‘Me too, darling Irishman, me too. Come on, you have to pack.’

  As the afternoon train pulled away from Rome’s central station, it was all Fergal could do to stop shaking with excitement next to Fintan and look at the horizon coming towards them. At that moment, for the first time in his life, he felt that the past was well and truly behind him.