by A Kelly
Scipio panted and soon after he cried out and came.
When she looked up, she found him crying. It wasn’t from pleasure, he seemed desolate as if he regretted what he’d done. He ran to the bathroom and stayed there for a while.
Summer knocked. ‘Can I come in?’
‘Yeah…’ he softly said.
He had his T-shirt back on and oddly he’d wrapped a towel around his waist instead of putting on his pants. His hands rested on the sink as water dripped off his face. When he looked at her, Summer could see he was flushed and his eyes were bloodshot.
She took his hand. ‘I’m sorry. I should’ve asked.’
‘It’s not you. Don’t apologise, please.’ He held her hands and whispered, ‘I haven’t been…’
He didn’t finish his sentence, but Summer suspected he wanted to tell her he hadn’t been with a woman for a long time and he hadn’t meant to come so quickly.
Laboriously he continued, ‘It’s…uh…’ He cringed then sobbed, ‘Oh, Summer!’
She wiped his tears. ‘Tell me.’
He loosened the towel, revealing his erection.
Once again she couldn’t think why he was so desperate to hide it. It was his second, and very soon after the first, but… wouldn’t a man stand on a mountaintop to declare such a feat?
‘Is it hurting you?’ she asked.
He looked away. She wanted to ask again, but she sensed he didn’t want to tell her. She simply touched his cheek, nudging him to look at her.
All she saw was tears. What should she read out of that?
It was hurting him, she established, and he must’ve been desperate for release, but he didn’t want to say it.
Summer pulled Scipio’s hand and guided him to the living room. She motioned him to sit down. She stroked his phallus gently and then she took off her pants.
‘Summer, you don’t have to.’
She touched his lips and placed her knees on each side of him.
Scipio held Summer’s waist. She realised how cold his hands were. He begged, ‘I don’t want to hurt you.’
She wouldn’t be surprised if he had hurt Emily because of his size, so his concern was legitimate. But those tears told her there was more to it than that. She would ask, when he was calm and not in pain. For now, she wanted to know: ‘Are you okay to continue?’
Scipio took a deep breath. He nodded.
‘Do you have a… condom?’ she whispered.
He shook his head.
Summer took a deep breath. She didn’t want protection, she wanted his bare flesh and warm seed in her. The man was frozen and in tears. She had to take him out of his misery so she made a decision on their behalf.
Silently she inserted his phallus inside her. She alternately held her breath and released a long sigh as she lowered herself inch by inch.
Scipio fidgeted. She moved up and down while he held up her buttocks, keeping the penetration shallow. Summer squeezed his hands, motioning him to release and let her take him in all the way, but his grip persisted and his eyes begged her to listen to him. So she let him lead.
In between his heavy breathing he croaked, ‘I’m close. Are you?’
She nodded. He released and she moaned while hugging his neck. She’d faked it with other men before, but with Scipio, she felt she’d climaxed with him, even though she physically hadn’t. She was satisfied not because he hit her spot, but because she was with him.
Scipio’s eyes closed and lips pursed as his abs contracted, releasing a couple more times. He then pulled out and hurled himself to the floor. Facing the sofa on his knees, he muffled his bellow with one of the cushions.
‘Scipio… are you okay?’ The man was getting pale.
‘I’m sorry…’ He shuddered.
She rubbed his chest and gave him a reassuring gaze. She was almost ready to kiss his lips to soothe his anguish.
Sobbing, he asked, ‘Did I hurt you?’
‘No, Scipio. You didn’t.’ She assessed his face. He was sweating and his lips were almost white. It looked like a panic attack and she could sense he might pass out. ‘Come, I’ll get you to bed.’
‘Summer… I hurt Emily. I hurt her badly. I don’t want to do that to you.’
‘Sshh… Scipio, just rest.’
He held her shoulder tightly.
Summer stayed beside Scipio. Had he really hurt Emily? She couldn’t imagine he had. Whatever it was, he was terror-stricken thinking about it.
She gave him warm compress on his head until he fell asleep. She could see the silhouette of his phallus under the blanket. She’d felt flesh when he was inside her and not much more – she had been more concerned about his feelings and wellbeing. It wasn’t making love, it was bonding. Her assumption about a kiss on the lips was clearly a fallacy, for she had fallen deeper than she had expected.
As Scipio settled, non-responsive to her touch, she slipped away.
20
Bring your guitar
Scipio rued the event that had unfolded yesterday. His courage and determination to be a man to please Summer had vanished. With her eyes looking at him, he couldn’t have asked her to wait until he’d been ready. Perhaps he would never be ready anyway. Sex was more than a dread now – he despised it. In magazines he would’ve been called ‘well endowed’, but he would never forget Emily screaming at him for going too deep while he was barely in. He couldn’t do that to Summer.
Well endowed, my arse!
What was a desolate man to do?
Sinatra.
He picked up his guitar and started singing Only the Lonely.
With his eyes closed, he continued on with I'm A Fool to Want You. And when he sang A Cottage for Sale, he knew someone was behind the door.
‘Sorry, I can’t help listening in,’ Summer said when Scipio caught her. ‘You're so good.’
He hadn’t expected her to come back, but she was behaving as if nothing had happened. He should feel lucky she was here with that mindset. How often did people say sex ruined friendships?
‘Join me,’ he invited. ‘How long have you been standing there?’
‘Since you started.’
‘Do you play?’
‘Well, when I was at uni a guy taught me a bit.’
‘A boyfriend?’
‘Yeah.’
‘Play!’ He handed the guitar to her.
She held it tentatively then started singing, ‘Doe, a deer, a female deer. Ray, a touch of golden sun...’ Then she laughed at herself. ‘We broke up after I learned this one song.’ She gave the guitar back to him.
‘You like The Sound of Music?’
‘Don’t know much about it, but I know some of the songs.’
‘I played Captain von Trapp in Launceston. My first gig.’
‘Really?’
Scipio took a rolled poster out of a drawer – the 1990 Launceston production of The Sound of Music.
She raised her brows. ‘Scipio Alexander.’ Then she studied the photo. ‘Where were your muscles?’
‘The costume hid them.’
‘How old were you?’
‘About your age.’
‘You don’t know how old I am!’
‘Twenty-two.’
Summer laughed. ‘Such a flirt!’
‘Well, I was twenty-two in this poster. But you’re right, I don’t know how old you are.’
‘I’m twenty-eight.’
It made him realise how little he knew about her.
‘How old are you, Scipio?’
He didn’t answer straight away. ‘Forty-seven.’
‘Why do I always think you’re fifty-three?’
‘Do I look that old?’
‘It’s just a number.’
He laughed it off, but he took time to think why fifty-three. Not fifty, not fifty-five. ‘Someone you know well is fifty-three?’ he said.
Summer shook her head.
‘You’re a knock-out, Captain Von Trapp,’ she said.
Scipio wondered if
Summer would’ve fallen in love with him back then.
‘The beauty of youth,’ he said.
‘Can I be cheesy and say that you’ve aged like wine?’
This time he cracked up.
He put the guitar beside him. ‘Summer… yesterday… I...’ He sighed. After all, he couldn’t pretend nothing had happened. ‘Did you regret it?’
‘Of course I didn’t.’
‘I hurt Emily.’
‘How?’
‘You don’t believe me, do you?’
‘I do, but I don’t understand.’
‘She screamed, Summer. In agony. I made her bleed. She was in hospital. I bruised her––’ He didn’t want to say it, that word hurt him. ‘––cervix. So it wasn’t just in her head. It wasn’t the drugs. It wasn’t just in my head either. Sometimes she kicked me out of bed in the middle of sex. With such hatred, like I was a monster. It’s not my fault I’m big! Not my fault I have an overactive penis!’
‘I’m sorry.’
‘Emily didn’t want to have another child after Cornelia. She even thought of terminating Cornelia while she was six-weeks pregnant.’
‘Did you hurt her when she was pregnant with Cornelia?’
‘No. It was after the birth. Then I got Emily pregnant again. Boy… didn’t she hate me for it. She’d never recovered from the complications after Cornelia’s birth and there I was, making her suffer even more. I tried to take care of her, keep her calm, soothe her pains, but she lost the baby. Maybe for her it was a good thing, but I wanted that baby, Summer.’
He paused. Yesterday Summer had asked for a condom. He’d never used a condom. He simply stopped having sex with Emily and never touched another woman. Despite the lack of protection Summer had initiated the penetration. Scipio had been too focused on his fear of causing pain, he hadn’t even thought about the fact that he could’ve got Summer pregnant. What would her pregnancy do to him? He would be over the moon. What would it do to Summer? She’d led them to make love; she’d decided when she was in control, not in the heat of the moment. Perhaps she would be okay with it.
Summer held his hand. ‘Did you think you caused Emily to miscarry?’
‘Maybe.’
‘I know it’s hard to accept, but miscarriages happen and most of the time it’s no one’s fault.’
Scipio nodded. He wanted to believe her, but his fears had stayed with him so long he couldn’t just erase them.
‘Sorry, I really shouldn’t have rushed you like that yesterday,’ she said.
It must’ve been written all over his face: please don’t ask me to make love again.
She inserted her hand underneath his. They were palm-to-palm. Her lips parted, then she looked away.
‘What?’ Scipio said.
‘I’ve come here to ask for a favour.’
‘Ask me.’
Summer slowly said, ‘Do you sing The Phantom of The Opera?’
‘Yes.’
‘Would you sing The Music of The Night with your guitar?’
‘Of course,’ Scipio said. Much as he didn’t want to let her hand go, he took back his guitar and started tuning. He hummed the first line of melody––
But her hand stopped him tuning, and her stare shut him silent. ‘Scipio,’ she said, ‘I want to see my mother again, but I don't want to go by myself. Would you come with me?’
He put the guitar away. ‘Sure. Where is she?’
‘The Hunter Valley,’ she said. ‘Will you bring your guitar?’
Scipio and Summer arrived in the Hunter Valley in the early afternoon. He was surprised to see the destination – a nursing home.
‘I’m sorry I didn’t tell you earlier. My mum has dementia. Are you still okay?’
‘Of course,’ he said. But thoughts of what he should and shouldn’t do soon overwhelmed him.
‘The first time I was here, I was with my dad. I’d never been so terrified. She was her, but she wasn’t her. She recognised me, but not in a way that I knew.’ Then she sighed with her head down. ‘I saw her again a few days before you found me trying to hang myself. She wasn’t much different. I had to drive the long road back to Sydney. Surprised I didn’t hit anyone, or anything, because those entire two hours are just a blur.’ She paused, staring at the signs next to the gate: private property, keep noises down, park at the spots marked 'guest', etc. ‘If I do something strange, or bad… could you just pull me out of her sight?’
‘What do you mean?’
‘I don’t know…’ she said, breathing heavily.
‘Come here,’ he said, and hugged her.
She breathed through his T-shirt and then nodded to herself.
‘Let’s go,’ she said.
They signed in at the reception where Scipio noticed the name of Summer’s mum: Catherine Louise Rideau.
‘Apart from our lawyer Mr MacMillan, has anyone visited my mother lately?’ Summer asked the receptionist.
‘No, Ms Rideau. No one else.’
Summer nodded.
They headed to the living units through the hall, a common area that was busy with the residents playing games and chatting to each other, then they went past the bowling green. Summer pointed out her mum, who was sitting under an umbrella in the garden next to the green, reading. As if she sensed her daughter’s presence, she put her book down when they were still metres away.
‘Summer!’ She jumped up and hugged her daughter before Summer could say anything.
They stayed in each other’s arms; Summer’s shoulders heaving up and down. When they let go, they smiled at each other. Then her mum turned to Scipio. ‘Who is this handsome gentleman? Your friend from karate?’
‘He’s my neighbour,’ Summer said.
‘Hi, I’m Joseph, nice to meet you…’ he said. He was about to call her Mrs Rideau but, worrying he might say it wrong, he called her Ma’am. He stole a glance at Summer, looking for feedback. But Summer’s attention was still on her mum.
‘Oh, you’re so polite! Call me Louise,’ her mum said. ‘Let’s go to my place, it’s just around the corner. It will give us some privacy.’
They passed a rose garden, then a herb garden.
Scipio was impressed by how clean Louise’s unit was. She must have maintained the place herself; he doubted staff would be so thorough.
‘Joseph! Your daughter’s here!’ Louise said as soon as they came in.
Joseph. So, the name she didn’t want to hear was her dad’s? What had he done?
Summer trembled when she whispered to him, ‘My dad’s death never sank in… oh well, will never sink in, I suppose.’
Scipio rubbed her shoulder. ‘You okay?’
She nodded.
‘When I first came here, she thought I was sixteen. These days she travels through time erratically.’
‘Do sit down, love,’ Louise said.
‘Scipio is from Penguin.’
‘Oh, nice,’ Louise said. ‘Joseph, right?’
‘Yes,’ he said.
‘And you call him Scipio?’ Louise turned to Summer.
Summer chuckled. ‘He used to sing in musicals. It was his stage name.’
‘A great name. A great character, too. I don’t know how historically correct that play was, Handel’s Scipio, but he seems to be a noble man. Was that why you chose that name?’
He’d never heard of the play. ‘I read a bit about Scipio and I liked the name, that was all.’
‘I saw the play when Joseph and I were in Milan. He chose it. Anything that has an element of war fascinates him. Summer knows, he can’t stop talking about Napoleon with her.’
Summer didn’t answer.
Louise continued, ‘Although Handel’s Scipio was more romance than a tale of war. It was long. A superb production – but almost too heavy. I liked the story, though. Imagine a young man in his prime, a victorious general, being presented with a beautiful virgin as a prize of war, and he didn’t take her because she had been promised to an enemy prince.’ Louise said. ‘What woul
d you do, Joseph? Or may I call you Scipio?’
‘Ah... um, well, I would probably take the woman.’
Louise laughed. ‘An honest man. I like that. Are you two together?’
‘Scipio is a friend, Mum,’ Summer said. Then she reached for Scipio’s hand, squeezed it and those lips parted. She gazed at him. ‘He’s a very, very good friend.’
Scipio tried to read Summer. It was as if she’d wanted to call him something else. But she couldn’t tell her mother he was her lover, he guessed. He was a lot older than her, so perhaps a very, very good friend would be appropriate for now.
Louise continued, ‘I still remember the actress who played Berenice in that opera. She was so beautiful. You chose a good name, Scipio.’
‘Mum, Scipio has something for you,’ Summer said.
No musical or play had scared Scipio more than the performance he was about to give his audience of two. No spotlight, no crowd, but he was overwhelmed by stage fright.
Summer sat next to Louise, head on her mum’s shoulder. She closed her eyes while Louise looked at him.
Scipio just gave Louise an honest smile: I'm terrified but I'll try. She nodded, then he gazed at Summer, who still had her eyes closed.
And so Scipio closed his eyes, too, and gradually his courage surfaced, enough for his fingers and vocal chords to fulfil the promise he’d made to Summer.
When he opened his eyes, mother and daughter were in tears.
‘Handsome and talented,’ Louise said, wiping her tears. ‘That was original, and soothing.’ She got up and gave Scipio a hug and a peck on the cheek. She looked at him as if she’d been given a big present. For a second he really thought Louise was Summer.
Over Louise’s shoulder he saw Summer whispering thank you. She had put the spotlight on him, but she had made him shine.
Louise continued, ‘Joseph took me to Phantom on Broadway when we were in New York. I’ll never forget that night. And… a week after, I found out I was pregnant. Not one baby, two babies!’ Louise chuckled. ‘Poor Joseph, he was a bit terrified, or maybe I should say, unprepared. Did Summer tell you she and Jake were born in New York?’