My Italian Roots Chapter 1
WARNING: If it is illegal for you to be reading these stories or you find them disgusting or immoral, please refrain from reading further. Must be 18+ to read! Any characters, places, or people depicted in this story is entirely in the fantasy and imagination of the writer and are in no way meant to portray anyone in real life. Any people, places, or actions depicted in this story that reflect real life events or situations is entirely by accident or coincidence.
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Capitolo Primo
`Cercando di capirlo'
The announcement woke me up. I guess I'd drifted off during the wait my flight - very possibly due to the Xanax I'd taken to alleviate my nerves. Flying scared the shit out of me, much more the idea of flying across a whole ocean in one of those things. I started my journey late last night with a connecting flight into JFK. What was supposed to be a 30-minute layover turned into hours due to weather. However, according to the announcement, they were finally ready to board the flight to Rome. I'm not supposed to be in Rome for long. Tom told me to take the train to Sulmona and call him when the train leaves Rome. Thinking about that reminded me to dig the Europe-ready phone he sent me out of my backpack. He's supposed to meet me in Sulmona and drive me the rest of the way to his place. For the whole time my brother had been living in Italy, over 8 years, this is the first time I'd flown over to visit him. I've never really been anywhere, and I was kind of geeking out over the opportunity. I watched a hundred videos about the area on YouTube and had been studying Italian via Duolingo on my phone in preparation.
The plane didn't touch down in Rome until around 6pm, so about an 8-hour flight. I feel like I've lost time. I better call Tom and let him know I've just arrived in Rome. He directs me to the train station, and I get my ticket, as instructed, to Sulmona. I text Tom and let him know I'll arrive around 8:30pm.
"I'll be waiting little brother" he says. He always kidded me about being his little brother; I am almost exactly four minutes younger than him. Our entire childhood we were like two parts of the same entity -- T'n'T, Tim and Tom, the D'Amico twins. Our father was an Italian citizen, and we both had dual citizenship in the US and Italy. Tom had always been the curious adventurous one. He'd travelled with dad many times and knew some of the family here; I'd only ever been on a couple of family visits. On one of the trips when I was very young the plane got into some turbulence and that was it for me. I was the timid child who stayed home with my mother and was afraid of flying. I only just renewed my passport about a month ago. When I was younger, I thought mom didn't fly because of fear of the plane falling out of the sky like me, but the real reason she wasn't able to fly was due to her heart problems, so I always just stayed home with her. Mom died a few years ago and dad suddenly moved back to the old country. I was left in the states alone. Well, mother's folks were here but there weren't many of them, she was an only child, and her aunts and uncles were all very old and in bad health. I guess I started to be a nuisance to Tom -- always asking him a million questions about life in Italy when we talked on the phone. He finally told me to come and see for myself, and that's how I ended up where I am now; currently sitting next to a little old lavender-scented nonna who looks like if she shriveled up anymore, she might blow away. She initially tried to tell me something in rapid-fire Italian but gave up once she saw how lost I looked. I have the Italian looks, but we never learned the language at home outside of the occasional spattering of Italian dad used. I sat quietly in my own thoughts and took in the passing scenery outside the window, what little I could see in the encroaching darkness.
Tom and I had always been connected more closely than most brothers; I attributed it to the twin factor. It's well known that identical twins have a strong connection to each other. We could always seem to feel when the other had some problem or illness. My dad named us after his uncles Tommaso and Timoteo, and the two of us were his pride and joy until around the time puberty hit us. Tom was a typical boy: he went absolutely girl-crazy at 12-years-old. I, on the other hand, did not. I didn't see all the fuss over girls. But I was seriously intrigued by the boys. There were several occasions when I had to make a fast walk out of the showers in gym class to get dressed due to things springing up. The summer after I turned 14, I finally gave up and admitted to my dad that I liked boys. After that dad's attention seemed to turn more toward Tom. He never said anything mean or hateful to me, it was more like I became the invisible boy in his world. When we turned 18, Tom decided to go to Italy to go to college. Mother was already in really bad shape, although it would be several more years before she passed. I was 22 when she succumbed to heart failure and shortly after that I found out dad had sold their house in Lansing and left for Italy. I got an internship at a large company in Chicago and had been coming home on weekends to be with mom. After the funeral I stopped coming, I felt like dad probably didn't want me around anyway. Dad and I rarely spoke anymore, so I only found out about his move and the sale of the house from my conversations with Tom. Finding myself feeling alone and isolated, I started wondering how life might be in the old country and I started bugging Tom constantly with my questions.
A jiggle of the train snapped out of my thoughts. I glance at my phone - it's 8:16, we should be arriving very soon now. I start getting my things together and the old nonna is doing the same. I can't tell much about the area outside now that it's dark, but I see the lights of the city coming closer. The train comes to a stop and I patiently waited while the old woman slowly makes her way to the exit. I stop to pick up my suitcase and look around for any sign of Tom. After 10 minutes I decide to sit down in the station to wait for him. About 20 minutes later he shows up.
"Sorry I'm late, I got busy with something and lost track of time" he said. From the way he smelled, I was pretty sure what he'd lost track of time doing.
"Don't give me that look" he says with a grin. I stand up and put my arms around him. I'm so happy to be with my brother again; it had been way too long since we've seen each other. He helps me get my stuff into the little Fiat and we take off to Introdacqua, the small village, or borgo in Italian, where he lives with his girlfriend Mia. It is an old place, for instance, the house they live in has been in Mia's family for several hundred years. As we start up the hill into the town the Fiat started a weird jerk type thing. Tom says that we'd have to make a trip to Mia's brother Paulo's shop over in Pescara to let him have a look at it. I just nod politely -- I have no idea about cars or towns or anything. Right now, all I know for sure is I am exhausted. He introduces me to Mia and we all chat for a little while, but they know I'm fading fast.
"Let me show you to your quarters" my brother tells me. I nod and follow him up a flight of stairs and to the right. It is a decent sized room with what looks to be a queen-sized bed and the room also has its own bathroom attached. Tom starts to leave but turned around at the last second and comes back to give me a bear hug which I readily return. Being near him makes everything feel `right' again. We don't say anything, words aren't necessary. He turns to return to Mia and I say "Buonanotte, Tommaso" in my best Duolingo accented Italian.
"Buonanotte, Timoteo" he says with a smile as he starts back downstairs. I wearily peel off my clothes and slide into the bed. Most of the time I'm a toss and turn type of sleeper, but tonight I turn off like a light.
Wow, it's bright in here I think to myself. I reach up and find something furry laying above my head on the pillow. Its a big black cat. I pet it and it begins to purr contentedly. I crawl out of bed and pull on my clothes from yesterday sans the undies; I don't feel like doing my morning routine until I've had a cup of coffee. I just hope that Tom and Mia had some. I pick up the cat when I start out of the room and carry it down the stairs. I find everybody in the kitchen.
"I see you've met Mez" Tom says.
"Mez?" I guess he's talking about the cat.
"Short for mezzanotte -- midnight" he explains.
I nod. "Mez apparently thought I needed a sleeping cap" I reply.
"Feel very privileged" Mia tells me, "That creature doesn't like many people and the fact he allowed you to carry him is astounding."
"So, do you people drink coffee?" I ask.
Tom points to the stove where a moka pot is sitting. I pick it up, but it feels empty.
"Here, I'll show you how to work it" Mia says. She takes it apart and dumps the used coffee and rinses the basket out, then loads it with coffee while handing me the reservoir to fill with water. We screw it all back together and turn on the stove.
"Now, all you have to do is wait" she says. I glanced up and the clock which seemed to be saying it was nearly 10:00.
"Sorry I slept in so late. I was exhausted" I said.
"No worries. We don't have anything planned" Tom says. "I could tell you were waning fast last night. However, we do need to run the car over to Paolo in Pescara today if you're up for a drive?"
"Sure, just let me drink this coffee and wake up so I can get ready to roll" I say. If it weren't for the modern appliances this place could almost be a nuseum. I sipped my coffee and take it all in. Ancient wooden beams in the ceiling, exposed stonework in the walls, tile on the floors that was probably 100 years old. Mia sits a plate in front of me with something that looks like a crescent roll on it.
"Pistachio cornetto" Tom says, "breakfast here -- colazione." It's very good. I finish up my cup and cornetto and go upstairs to get ready for our road trip.
After doing my business I tried the bidet, something on rarely sees in the states. I could see definite advantages for this device; especially for a gay man like me. I jump in the shower and clean up, get dressed and go back down. Tom says Mia had to go help her mother, so it's just the two of us this morning. The Fiat seems to be running a little better this morning, at least until we start up a hill, then it starts the jerking again. I hope we would make to this town, Pescara, we're trying to get to. Tom had told me it was close to an hour away. We just take it slow and steady.
Pescara turns out to be an actual city, much larger that the town we'd come from. Tom navigates his way into the downtown area until we pull up at a place whose sign says Gianni's with a cartoon mechanic at the side. We get out and Tom started talking to someone I guess is Gianni. I can't translate much of the fast Italian in my head, but I hear him say `Paolo' so I assume he is asking where Paolo is. The man motions for us to come into the shop. A pair of legs is sticking out from under a Lancia. Being myself, I notice the work pants are a little clingy up around the juncture of the legs, especially around the lump that resided there. Gianni lightly kicks the guy's foot, and he rolls out from under the car to see what's going on. Turns out Mia's brother Paolo is as good looking as Mia.
"Ciao Tommaso!" he says, getting up from the crawler, "What brings you down here?"
"Trouble with the Fiat" Tom tells him. Paolo does a double take when he sees me. "Ovviamente questo è tuo fratello".
"Oh, yeah. This is my little brother Timoteo -- Tim. Tim this is Mia's brother Paolo" Tom says. For some reason I blush at him calling me little brother in front of this (to me) stranger. I try to shrug it off and regain my composure.
"Pleased to meet you" I say quietly and offer my hand. Immediate electric charge seems to pass between us when our hands touch. I try not to stare as Tom describes to Paolo what is going on with the car, but I quietly take the opportunity to take in every detail. Paolo is about my height 5'10" and slender but not skinny, beautiful face, his long hair pulled back into a ponytail. His work shirt sleeves are rolled up to the elbow leaving his muscular forearms and their covering of thick black hair visible. He has a day or so of stubble on his face, and his eyes are the most beautiful shade of brown -- almost toffee colored. I become somewhat fixated on the tuft of hair coming out above the top shirt button when I realize Tom is talking to me.
"What? I'm sorry" I say.
"I said do you want to go check out the city a little while Paolo works on the car?" he says, sounding a little annoyed.
"Sure. Whatever you want to do" I say.
"Dammi circa un'ora" Paolo says to Tom, "Te lo preparo io." I have no idea what he's saying but his voice is so sexy.
The clock on a building nearby says it's nearly 1:00 so we set off to find some lunch. We walk around the area for 15 minutes or so before spying a little hole in the wall pizza shop. We order a pizza and a couple of beers. Tom tells me to turn on the air drop feature on the iPhone he got me. I have no idea how to do it so I hand it to him. A minute later he hands it back then touches his phone to mine. I almost pass out. An image of Paolo popped up. Well, technically, it was a photo of Paolo, Mia and Tom on the beach with Tom and Paolo wearing very European styled swimwear. Jesus Jones! Paolo is well put together! Tom is watching me and grinning. I flush red as a tomato and switch the phone screen off.
"I know what you like, little brother" he says quietly. I start to make a smart-ass comment but, upon further consideration, I realized he actually does seem to know what I like -- obviously.
"What would Paolo think about you providing me with wank bait?" I ask him.
"I think that's something you and Paolo might want to discuss amongst yourselves" he says with a wink.
"You mean Paolo..." I start. He just nods and grins.
"Does he have a boyfriend?" I ask.
"No idea" Tom says, "But then, I've never been interested in the three-legged tribe."
"How can I find out?" I say, mostly to myself.
"How about asking him?" Tom says as if I am a moron, then softens and says, "How about I invite him for dinner Saturday?" I nod ascent to the idea.
"Then maybe you can jump each other's bones" he says in a boring conversational tone. The pizza arrives and the conversation ends.
On the ride back to Tom's I'm trying to be very discrete as I pull the picture up on my phone to examine it again.
"He's hairy, just the way you like" Tom kids me. I decide to mess with him since he's teasing me.
"Yeah, and it looks like he's bigger than you inside the Speedo" I jab.
"I don't know about that" he says "besides, you and I are the same down there."
"I don't mind somebody having a bigger dick than me, how about you?" I ask.
"Don't care, I like internal parts better" he says with a laugh.
Fast forward to Friday. Strangely enough, Tom failed to mention that when Paolo comes to Introdacqua on the weekends he A.) Usually stays the whole weekend, and B.) He stays in the family house a.k.a. Mia's (which it turns out belongs jointly to Mia and Paolo), and C.) His room is next door to the one in which I'm staying. The three of us decided to stay in instead of going clubbing, so we were all dressed very casual hanging out in the soggiorno. When I say casual, I'm in the clothes I usually lounge around in at home, a "wife-beater" and a pair of rather thinning basketball type shorts. We're watching some show I'm not really following due to my lack of fluency in Italian, when in walks Paolo with his backpack. He says Cia0 and heads upstairs and neither of my hosts hardly look up from their TV show other than to give a casual Salve.
"So, Paolo is staying here?" I ask.
"Si, where else would he stay?" Mia asks. Tom senses my confusion.
"This is the `family' house" Tom explains, "Mia and Paolo are the heirs and own it equally. Just at this time Paolo's job is in Pescara so he usually comes in on the weekends."
"You said you were going to invite him to dinner?" I say, "How do you invite somebody to dinner in their own house?"
"I was just putting you on" Tom says.
I'm feeling a little self-conscious and feel like maybe I should change. I start to get up and Tom asks where I'm going.
"I feel a little too casual" I say. Mia starts laughing.
"Just wait" Tom tells me. I turn my attention back to the show I can only vaguely understand for a few minutes. Then, Paolo comes down the stairs wearing a pair of shorts similar to mine, and nothing else.
"Still feeling `too casual'?" Tom asks. I shoot him a quick bird, just a jab between brothers. I quickly forget about it as Paolo comes and sits beside me on the sofa. Jesus! I can smell him. His scent is intoxicating, kind of a mix of faded soap and strong masculine musk. I can feel that tingle in my groin so I start thinking about nuns and roadkill and manage to keep it under control. Paolo looks at me.
"Stai bene?" he says. I don't understand.
"Paolo asked if you're okay" Tom says. I just nod yes, I'm okay. Making eye contact with Paolo's toffee eyes caused me to plump up and I can't help it, so I fake off changing position to get more comfortable while, in reality, I am hiding my growing problem. Tom explains to Paolo in Italian that I was just worried he might be offended by my state of dress. Paolo kind of snorts and points at himself, causing his scent to come my way again. How the fuck am I going to get through this weekend? We all chill for a while, and I hear Tom and Mia telling Paolo something, but I don't really pay it a lot of attention. A little later they go to bed, leaving me and Paolo alone.
"Forgive-a me-a, my-a English is-a very bad" he says.
"Anche il mio Italiano" I say very slowly, searching my mind for the words and hoping I got them right. He nods in understanding.
"Tom. He say to me, you are-a like-a me. You like-a the uomini, the ah men" he says haltingly. I turn red as fire. I can feel it all the way down my neck.
"Si" I say searching for the right words, "È vera" I say. He smiles and switches to using his hands. He points at me and then at himself.
"You-a like-a Paolo?" he asks. I flush again and nod probably too vigorously. I lean toward him and pull in a deep breath through my nose, then point to the lump in my lap. He smiles and sits back revealing he has the same situation going on.
"We-a make-a friends with-a us-a?" he says. I know exactly what he means and nod again. That is the minute I decided to learn Italian; actually that may be the minute I made a hard decision that I was moving permanently to Italy.
We did what we could to communicate for a while then went to bed, each to our own rooms. I had a feeling we could end up sharing a room at some point. I fell asleep with a smile on my face.
Lambodara 3/6/23
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When the moon hits your eye like a big pizza pie, that amore.