But Joe badgered him, and Ben didn’t want to upset Ellen. So they had their “party” in Vinnie’s room, where Ben hadn’t been since the first day Vinnie arrived. Their little party broke up before nine—in time for Ellen to book a taxi to Queens and for Joe to meet his friends for an all-night celebration of a different kind. Ben had volunteered to cover Vinnie’s night surveillance, using a baby monitor placed in his den.
Yet his heavy X-room workout hours before was a breeze compared to dealing with the onslaught of memories that rushed through his mind as he listened to the sounds of Vinnie’s life support machines. To suit his melancholy, Ben’s CD choice for the night was Madame Butterfly, an opera he’d learned about from Davis. It was the Maria Callas version—his favorite.
By the time Pinkerton’s betrayal was exposed, Ben’s despondency matched Butterfly’s.
After the finale, just before midnight, Ben decided to check on Vinnie. Ben felt so alone. No one cared about him. He was merely a body to be admired, a trophy like those on his shelf. He was liked for his largeness, not for who he was.
He looked at Vinnie. We’re alone. We’re numb. We’re the same.
Although he hadn’t planned to, Ben sat down next to Vinnie and began talking.
Solace came to him that night, unexpectedly, from just talking to Vinnie. And so Ben decided to make this a nightly routine—after Joe had gone to bed. On the following night, Ben listened to Simon and Garfunkel’s “Homeward Bound” before making his midnight descent to Vinnie’s room.
His monologue that night repeated the story he had revealed to Ginny and Dan weeks before. And once again, he cried when he mentioned his son’s name. He described Carl’s joy, smile, love of life, curiosity, playfulness. He shared his lament for all that Carl would not have.
His cries were amplified on the baby monitor in Joe’s room. Joe went to the doorway to investigate, and stopped in the shadow. Ben was confessing—there was no other word for it. The faint hall light gave Ben’s face a gray, ashen look; his cheeks were charcoal, his voice smoky. Joe already knew Ben’s story, yet this incantation was different. Joe retreated to his room and lowered the volume on the baby monitor. This was not meant for him.
When the low winter sun awoke Ben, he was still at Vinnie’s side. He looked at Vinnie, at his broken leg and arm, his bandaged torso, his bruised face, machines attached. He remembered Ellen speaking of Vinnie’s father’s and brother’s derision—they had called Vinnie a little faggot and a crybaby. The neighborhood kids had joined in, chanting “crybaby.” And Vinnie had, indeed, cried.
“You’re not a little faggot,” Ben said. “You hear me? You’re not a crybaby.”
The EEG needle made a slight jerk, just a hitch, imperceptible. Ben didn’t see it.
“You’re not—you hear me? You’re not a crybaby. Your mother loves you. Dan loves you. You’re loved, Vinnie. You’re not a crybaby. You hear me?”
Another blip.
For three days after that, the EEG needle jiggled from time to time. Joe noticed it when he did his daily review of the tape. He reassured Vinnie’s mother that this was a good thing—an active brain—although no one could say the cause, or whether it would last.
“Talk to him, Ellen,” Joe said. “Sing with your beautiful voice. Let Vinnie hear you from the kitchen as you cook. Can you do that? Sing for Vinnie?”
So Ellen began singing in Vinnie’s room and as she prepared meals for Ben, Joe, and herself: pasta alla matriciana, pasta alla norma, linguini al mare, chicken cacciatore, bistecca alla pizzaiola. She sang louder and made bigger portions to fill Ben’s stomach until even he could eat no more. And she sang her prayers. The EEG needle danced faintly to her tune every day.
****
Four days after Ben’s confession, Vinnie’s fog lifted. He perceived only jumbled images and voices: a baseball bat, screams. His inner curtain lifted; his optic nerve reacted. Vinnie imagined a subway. He heard epithets like “faggot” and “little queer.” Sounds of a creaking door and a pinging keyboard. Then words without origin: bad for your health, no son of mine, crybaby, please don’t leave, you’re suppose to be my friend, a setup.
Then, for the first time in weeks, he formed a thought of his own: Dan’s at risk.
And a voice outside his head sounded: “Good morning, Vinnie. Time for your bath, sweetie.” It was Joe, with his usual cheerful morning greeting.
Unlike some nurses, Joe enjoyed bathing his patients. It was his way to connect. He was gentle with those who were conscious, especially if they were shy or ashamed of their condition. He allayed their embarrassment with flowery words; his noble speeches gave them dignity. Joe would never be inappropriate, never be a Jimmy Janks, yet he didn’t deny his own enjoyment at seeing Vinnie’s smooth, young man’s body. And Vinnie’s generally healthy body was an exception in his line of work.
“Okay, let’s be sure the water is neither too hot or too cold. Don’t go anywhere. I’ll be right back, gorgeous.” Joe turned to leave the room.
“Okay.”
Joe dropped his small wash-bucket.
“Vinnie! Honey, did you say something? Vinnie, did you answer me?”
“Who are you?”
Joe touched Vinnie’s face and gave him a kiss on his cheek.
“Honey, it’s going to be all right. Just wait, I’ve got to make a quick call.”
Protocol required that the attending physician be notified immediately upon a coma patient’s awakening. Joe reached Dr. Alvarez immediately. Dr. Alvarez was the physician on retainer at UltraFit, and his duties extended to Vinnie, twenty-four seven, rain or shine.
Then, using the internal house phone, Joe called Ben. “Vinnie’s awake! Get your big ass down here now!” Ellen received Joe’s third call.
Five weeks after his assault, Vinnie awoke. “What’s happened?”
Joe answered Vinnie’s questions with short replies. When the others arrived, Ben led Dan, Ginny, and Ellen into Vinnie’s room.
The horde confused Vinnie. Was why his mother here? And Dan and Ginny? Dan introduced Vinnie to Ben—Vinnie had heard the name but had never met the man. Joe interrupted, asking them to wait for the doctor. Dan backed away, letting Ellen touch Vinnie.
If the numbers overwhelmed Vinnie, they annoyed Dr. Alvarez. “Only Joe stays. For the next few days, visitors will be limited and brief, except for Mrs. Briggs.”
With the room empty but for Vinnie, Joe, and the doctor, Vinnie expressed his thoughts sequentially, as requested by Dr. Alvarez, to test Vinnie’s brain function. The last time he had seen his mother was three months ago, Vinnie said; he was unaware that it was now over four. Vinnie gazed at Joe, an attractive man that had kissed him, and the unfamiliar doctor. He had no idea why he was bandaged, or attached to all these machines in an unfamiliar room. Had he been in an accident? When? Where was he?
Dr. Alvarez took Joe outside to give him detailed instructions, a thoroughness Joe appreciated. Once procedures were in place, Joe brought Ellen back into Vinnie’s room. He adjusted her seat and added a cushion to prop her higher.
Dan and Ginny decided it was best to wait until another day before visiting Vinnie. Ben agreed, so the three of them entered the gym together, using the training as a diversion.
And, for the first time, Ben trained the couple together. Ginny and Dan had thought this would be a good idea, only to find out that Ben’s workout was twice as hard as usual. Afterward, soreness silenced their conversation, but on the way home, Dan said, “Maybe wait before you talk to Ben about… about your… our plan.”
“I’d already decided that. Vinnie takes priority. Our issue… my problem can wait. We’re talking; that’s progress.”
“Yes, progress. Nothing can go wrong.” Dan words wobbled like his legs.
Chapter 43
Reunion
The bedroom had somehow shrunk, at least for Ellen. Two words had changed her entire perspective: “Hi, Mom.” Through wet eyes, she saw Vinnie and nothing more. She wanted to regain
their lost years. What would Vinnie like to eat? Would he like her to make one of his favorites: aglio-olio linguini or melanzana al forno?
Vinnie reminded her of Dr. Alvarez’s “fuckin’ dietary restrictions.”
But soon Vinnie changed their conversation. He wanted to understand what had happened. What did his mother know about Ben, Joe, this place? Where was this?
Ellen summarized. Ben’s wealth, the Upper West Side condo, Ben’s kindness and generosity.
Vinnie still didn’t understand the help from Ben and Joe. “I don’t get it. Why?”
“Why are they gay?”
“No, Ma, why are the helping me?”
Ellen couldn’t answer that. Vinnie had been mugged, a homophobic attack, so Gary Del Vecchio, in gay solidarity, had generously allowed for private care—at least that’s what she’d been told. She left out Dan’s speculation that the mugging was job related. In short, she said that Ben’s help was a favor to Dan. “What a nice man. You’ll like him. He’s not what I imagined of a bodybuilder. He’s smart, kind, and gentle.”
Vinnie remembered a different perspective on Ben—the one related to him by Dan. “I knew Ben was Ginny’s trainer, but not Dan’s. A lot’s happened, hasn’t it? And Dan did say Ginny’s trainer was a bodybuilder. Have you seen his fuckin’ size? He’s like bigger than this fuckin’ room.”
Seeing his mother’s finger wiggle, Vinnie apologized for his adjectives and smiled.
Ellen told her son that she had shared their family history with Ben, Joe, and Dan. Ben had become angry to learn of John’s and Jack’s gay-bashings.
“Holy shit, you told them everything? That’s private and personal.”
“Dan already knew most of it. Blanca too, from what Dan told me.”
“That’s different.” Vinnie’s voice was shaky, weak.
“No it’s not. Do you want me to continue?”
Vinnie nodded.
The next shock was learning that both his father and brother had visited him in the hospital. In fact, Jack had been granted early release from Attica due to family circumstances.
“Leave it to Jack to use me. Fuckin’ asshole.”
A frown crossed Ellen’s face.
They surfed family matters, their conversation weaving. Ellen avoided the topic of Vinnie’s care, though; she thought it best for Dan to explain. She accidentally let slip that Dan had resigned from DV&N, which upset Vinnie. She claimed ignorance about the cause, which was true. And she had no information on Vinnie’s work friends, not even Blanca.
Ellen took a deep breath. “You’ll find this hard to believe. When you first arrived here, Ben offered me a bedroom—there are five on this floor by the way, each bigger than half our house in Queens. You can’t believe the view.”
Vinnie grinned. “Better than Queens, huh.”
With a shake of her head, Ellen continued. “Anyway, I stay Friday through Sunday afternoon.”
“Makes sense, given your job and Dad’s demands on you too.”
“Your father was against it, but he came to see for himself.”
Vinnie was shocked. “Dad? Came here? Does he know about Ben and Joe?”
“Oh yes. Before he was through the door Ben told him he and Joe were gay. And believe it or not, he likes them. The feeling isn’t exactly mutual in Ben’s case. But Joe’s accepted your father’s change of heart. I have, too. Vinnie, it’s real. He’s different. Can you forgive him? I know that’s a lot to ask.”
A mute Vinnie looked down at his broken arm.
“Take your time. Anyway, when your Dad arrived, Joe took charge. Ben was angry, so he left the room. And Joe told your father about these machines.” Ellen’s arm swung around the room. “He described your medication and nursing needs. Your father was interested. Eventually Joe explained his role as your nurse and physical therapist. He said that your chances of waking up were slim. He was wrong on that, thank god. It’s a miracle.” Ellen’s voice cracked. Vinnie closed his eyes on the word “miracle.”
“Your father liked that Joe didn’t mince words. You know how much your father hates people who BS him.”
“Okay, I get it. Dad and Joe like each other. What about Ben?”
“Now that’s a different story.” Ellen looked over her shoulder and lowered her voice. She relayed Ben and John’s first interaction, ending with Ben’s handshake. “He nearly broke your father’s fingers. John had tears in his eyes.
“After a few visits, your father began to ask Ben about him being gay. It was too personal. I thought a fight would break out. They were in the kitchen; Ben hasn’t come down here since your first day, I don’t think. Ben asked me to leave. He promised nothing would happen, just men talking over beers. I learned later from your father that Ben shared his entire life story, being gay and other stuff. I’ll let Ben give you the details, but I’ll just say that Ben’s had a tough life.”
“Fuckin’ unreal.”
“There’s more. Your dad talked about the misconceptions of gay men, bodybuilders, and homosexuality. Even bigotry.”
“Fuck and fuck. Oh—sorry, Mom, it’s too much.”
“That’s okay. You’ve been in a coma, and it is a lot to believe.”
“Dad actually said ‘bigot’?”
“Yes. And then he admitted he’s been one. He didn’t realize how nice gay people could be. I almost went into a coma myself.”
“I’m shocked. It’s unbelievable.”
“Your father really likes Joe and Ben. He hopes they’ll be your friends.”
“You’re shittin’ me. Oh, sorry, Mom.”
Ellen smiled. “I am not shitting you.”
****
Big John came by the next day. He and Vinnie talked a long time, and then Big John asked for Vinnie’s forgiveness. Vinnie said yes—but in a way that meant, “I’ll think about it.” Vinnie’s cynical mind wondered if his father’s overnight epiphany was an angle to get at Ben’s money. Vinnie would need a lot more time to empty his buckets of bitterness.
Her son’s doubts triggered Ellen’s own. While father and son talked, she and Joe drank chamomile tea in the kitchen and discussed her doubts.
“You know, Ellen, it’s unusual, but not unprecedented. When parents disown their gay children, the break is generally permanent. Once they take a moral stand, their heels dig in. I’ve known gay men wither away, dying from AIDS, begging for their parents. I’ve called on their behalf, only to hear the mantra, ‘We don’t have a son, we don’t have a daughter.’ In your husband’s case, I don’t know, but something is different.
“Personally, I don’t believe John wanted to disown Vinnie. He’s a victim of society—he behaved the way he was expected, to prove he’s a real man. My pop psychological explanation is that Vinnie’s severe physical bruising and coma forced John to confront his own violence against Vinnie. I’m pretty sure this change has been coming for a long time. Vinnie’s coma just pushed the change forward, but it would have come.
“But if a true reconciliation is to happen, we’ll have to help. Right now, it’s Vinnie’s move. He’ll have to allow his father a way to save face.”
That acceptance from Vinnie came slowly, but it came. At first it was just words more than it was sincere feeling. But then it was more.
Ben was pushed too. If Vinnie could forgive, Ben begrudgingly admitted that he could at least act civil toward Big John.
That last gulf was crossed the day John squeezed Ben’s bicep and thanked him for helping Vinnie. Ben knew the signal: John was being intimate, in a man’s way.
Ben’s manly response was to flex. Fibers moved, and a mushroom head stretched Ben’s shirt.
“Holy shit. What a muscle. That’s huge.”
The choice was Ben’s. He removed his shirt, giving Big John the visual to go with the tactile. Ben’s biceps could sink ships.
“They’ve got to be twenty, twenty-one inches.”
“Twenty-two, to be precise.” To make his point, Ben wrapped his arm around Big John, tug
ging him into his chest, their faces only kissing distance apart. “We gays are not all puny. We’re like everyone else. Small, medium, large, and super-size.”
It was decision time. Crush John into powder and vacuum him off the floor later while drinking his protein shake? Or let him walk away?
With a rasp, John said, “I see that. I wish Vinnie would put on weight. Maybe he wouldn’t have been hurt so badly. Would you help him, Ben? I’d appreciate it.”
Ben’s decision was made.
And without knowing it, Ben had made Vinnie and his father’s reconciliation possible. Just in time, too. Vinnie would soon need his father’s help.
Chapter 44
Paris Speaks
Monday’s call came a month after Vinnie’s miracle awakening. Dan was eating breakfast. He placed his coffee next to the Wall Street Journal and answered the phone.
“Hello.”
“Bonjour, mon ami, ça va?”
“Oh, JJ, ça va, ça va? How nice to hear your voice. How’s Marion?”
“Bien. From me she only wants sex. I have no rest. And how is your beautiful wife? I miss feasting my eyes on Ginny. Is the sex good too?”
Dan thought JJ was proving he was French. “She’s fine.” Dan frowned in his lie. “Are you and Marion coming to New York?”
“No, my friend, we are not. Soon we will be able to afford only to visit the next arrondissement.”
“Is this a call to sell me the Eiffel Tower? Tightwad, spend your big salary.”
“You know my big salary now, not in six months. I tell you I will not have a job. This is my reason for calling.” Jean-Jacques’s voice lacked its usual trill.
Dan sat up, his voice business formal. “What’s up? You’re too good for DV&N to lose you.”
“True, I am good. That is not a brag, just the truth. The problem is our division shows underperformance. Not only us in France, but all our European markets. I have spoken to London, Milan, Cologne, Madrid. We have had dips in the last two months that no one can explain.”
“Markets are down.”
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