THE LIFE WHEEL by Andrej Koymasky (C) 2008 written on October 1, 1991 translated by the author English text kindly revised by The Australian
USUAL DISCLAIMER
"THE LIFE WHEEL" is a gay story, with some parts containing graphic scenes of sex between males. So, if in your land, religion, family, opinion and so on this is not good for you, it will be better not to read this story. But if you really want, or because YOU don't care, or because you think you really want to read it, please be my welcomed guest.
CHAPTER 5 - Marco 3 and Matteo 4
Marco
Last summer I went to the gay nudist camp again to gorge myself on sex in the hope of forgetting Matteo.
I totally succeeded in my first objective but failed miserably in the second.
Just before I left for the camp I quarrelled with Paul. He demanded that I not go. He started playing the jealous, possessive type so we ended telling each other to go and get fucked. Paul told me that if I liked to going whoring around it was my business, but that he didn't like being the friend of a whore. I told him that until I had the proof of the contrary, we were not married and that he was just one of many. I didn't want to be one his 'possession'!
At the camp site I got my share of amusement, in all senses. We organised parties, games, small shows and I did it with a couple of males every and each day. I was just spoiled for choice. It was enough that I tried with everyone of them. Many of them chased after me, hoping to have another good fuck with me, even if I told them I wasn't game. I didn't like all of them. Some were just amazing!
I had sex in a tent, in a car, on the shore, in the sea, on a boat, in the drinks kiosk, in the manager's office, behind the console of the DJ, amongst the bushes, in the surgery, in the wood, under the shower... everywhere. I did it in the day time and night time. I did it with blond, brown, dark-haired and red-haired males.
Yet... Matteo was always there in my thoughts.
I did it with a fourteen years old boy more fiery than a colt, and with people of all ages, even with a man in his sixties, but handsome as hell.
Yet Matteo was always there in my thoughts.
I had sex with a youth from Emilia region who was a metal and mechanical worker, with a romantic doctor from Fiesole, with a refined taxi-driver from Milan and with a depraved lawyer from Taranto, with a slightly crazy photographer from Udine and with a Neapolitan aristocrat, penniless but really well hung, with a shy high school student from Parma and a delicate university student from Venice, with a clumsy delicatessen seller from Genoa and a rather handsome tram driver from Rome.
Yet Matteo was always there in my thoughts.
With a Swiss architect rolling in money, a young German chemist, a really beautiful Danish Olympic skier and a computer technician for the UK who was hotter than a Latin-lover, with two foreign students from Perugia, one of them a Nigerian sculpted in mahogany and the other a Thai sculpted in jade...
Yet Matteo was always there in my thoughts.
With the camping medical doctor, who tried it with everybody. With our DJ who was chased after by everybody, with the twenty-years old son of the manager (who pretended being straight, but who told me he wanted to give it a try with me, and who started it anyway), and with the telephone worker. He was a married hunk with two little children, he was a 'would-be' straight man, but as soon as I started on him, he readily accepted, even as he told me I was the first one with whom he tried it. I didn't believe it at all!
Yet Matteo was always there in my thoughts.
I wrote down the names and addresses of all those with whom I've fucked (besides the telephone worker who didn't want to give me his address, and the little fourteen years old country-boy). I counted them and there were exactly twenty-two. I had sex more than once with some of them. I liked some of them a lot. Some insisted we meet again.
Yet, in my thoughts there is always Matteo. Only Matteo. I would have renounced all of those handsome males just for a kiss with Matteo. Yes, just for a kiss.
In a few days school will start again and I will see him.
Tony called me and gave me their new address. They found an attic with two small rooms a kitchen and a bathroom. He told me it took all the summer to tidy it up, to whitewash and to furnish it. They don't have a telephone yet. He invited me to go to visit them tomorrow evening and to have supper with them. Stefano will be there too.
I called Stefano and we met. He spent his vacations with his folks and he did it again with the drinks kiosk boy, whose name is Saro. He says they made love almost every day and that they probably in love with each other. After he came back home they had already called each other three times within a short period. It's a pity they are so many kilometres apart.
I told him about all my adventures and he looked at me wide eyed. I confessed that I'm not able to forget Matteo. He told me to be careful, to avoid doing bullshit, and that I should find a steady boyfriend, and also that I was wrong quarrelling with Paul.
He then showed me his pictures of Saro. It's evident he is really in love with him. Saro's a handsome guy, really handsome. Especially in a picture with only his bath-suit on, where I saw that he has a nice basked between his legs. He is twenty-three but seems younger. He has a small nose, plump lips and intense eyes. Stefano told me that Saro is a real dream in bed. He also told me that Saro is saving some money so that he can come here for Xmas. He said he would stay at an hostel, but Leo promised him that he will let them use their attic but they could only make love in the daytime as at night they would disturb them too much.
How lucky they are! Leo lives with Tony, Stefano found his Saro and will be together in less than three months, and I am going on dreaming of my Matteo, inaccessible, even though I will see him in a few days and there after almost every day. For some several months and then all will be over. I would almost fail this third year in order to repeat it. No, it is possibly better as it is. At least my torment will come to an end.
Who knows how Matteo spend his vacations. Will he be slightly tanned as he was last year? That light tanning made him seem even more beautiful, more desirable, if that is at all possible. I had left at home the enlargement of Matteo's picture, but now I've put it again in my wallet. When nobody is looking, I occasionally take it out and look at him, then look at it again. I obsess over him.
These days Dad and Mum are still in the village bringing their vacations to an end so I'm alone at home. All alone. It could be a good occasion to have an adventure, but I honestly, I don't feel like chasing one. It could be because I had too many during the camping trip. It could be because I am busy always thinking about Matteo.
I do nothing all day. I rehearse a little of last year's program. I watch a little TV, I sleep a lot and continuously think of him.
It is more noticeable when I revise literature and history, it is like if I hear him all over again. His voice. Oh, that voice! I really like the way he explains. He's able to make you become fond for things that before meant nothing. I would never have thought I could become passionate about what he says. I feel that, if I decide to go on with my studies, I will enrol in literature just as he did. I could possibly become a teacher like him. It must be great to teach, when you believe in it as Matteo believes in it. It seems almost as if he taught all his life. His culture is so deep and not only based on superficial factual knowledge. It is something that he grew up with, something he assimilated, something that belongs to him. He is also able to speak well, in a logical way, so convincing and balanced. I'm not saying so only because I'm in love with him. Everybody says so, also in his other two classes. I believe that he is the most beloved Prof. of our school, in spite he makes us swot!
Last year he went to the school trip with the third class. The boys and girls came back all enthusiastic about him. This year he will probably came on the school trip with us. I really hope he will. Can you imagine it? Being able to do all the trip, going and coming, with him, eating with him, going around with him and sleeping in the same premises, unhappily, not in the same room. I can spend all my time with him for five or six full days!
I'm afraid I will go crazy with emotion for him. Why can't I show him that I'm dying for him? Would he be upset with me for showing my love for him? My god, I'm already feeling breathless just thinking of it. I feel as if I am ill. As if I've got a fever.
What a weird thing being in love is. You read and talk so much about love and when you experience it you are caught unawares. You discover that it is something totally different from what it is said or written, from what you guessed.
Who knows how it would it be if I could shout to him, telling him I love him and if he could shout it back to me? It would possibly be totally different to what I'm now imagining. I will never know.
What a sweet torment is it just thinking of you, Matteo. Desiring you against all hope. Daydreaming of your reality, but knowing it is only just a dream. I'm being worn out thinking of you day and night, being wasted away with false hope.
It seems nothing more than a sheer literary expression, a figure of speech, until you experience it. Matteo says that a page of literature, as any other work of art, is truly art when it makes something vibrate inside you, when it expresses the unutterable, when it crystallizes our deepest emotions. Is it that all the pages of love, songs, romances and poems have been written just for me. For us. Something that until yesterday I would have judged as silly, or boring, or trite, or mawkish, or meaningless, are now stirring up in me a deep welling of emotion.
Even your name, Matteo, seems me to be wonderful. You yourself are a living work of art.
My god, how much am I love with you!
Matteo
This has been a peculiar year.
I spent my vacations with Piergiorgio in Florence and we have toured half of Tuscany. Then, at the end of our vacations we left each other. We didn't have a fight, we simply understood, both of us, that a relationship between us could not last long. The problem is that I was interested in museums, historical and artistic places and he was bored, because he was interested in tourists facilities, like discos, and in sunbathing on the shore. Things that I don't dislike but just in small doses, not in massive doses.
Can I have annoyed him with my continual talking about Marco? Is that why one day he said, with some irritation I might add, "Oh fuck him!"
I imposed it upon myself not to talk of him again, but was only partially successful.
We didn't part on bad terms.
I decided to spend the last days of the vacation tidying the house and changing some of its furnishings. I decided to clear out my Mother's bed room furniture and make it my bedroom. It so had more room and a lot more light. It's very pleasant.
I changed my previous bed room in a kind of studio and installed a double divan bed in case I have guests. I made living room more agreeable with just a few changes. I whitewashed all the walls after taking off the old and somewhat baroque wallpaper.
In September school started again. Preliminary meetings, Autumn session exams, and then the start of the regular lessons. I got my F section again. Literature in all the three classes, and also History in the last two classes. I met my old students and the new first year pupils.
And I met again Marco!
Tanned like last year, his green eyes were more luminous than ever, his smile heightened by his perfect tan. I didn't read in his eyes love any more. There was adoration! I felt my heart skip a beat just looking at him.
Is it possible that I have fallen in love with him so much? Knowing he loves me too makes this all the more complicated.
Already in the first lessons I've noticed that Marco is studying like a madman, and he is literally improving out of sight. He is even surpassing Leo. Not only in my disciplines, but in all classes. At the assignment of marks for the first term, he got a full 8/10 mark. Physically, he is becoming more and more handsome, at least for my enamoured eyes. He follows the lessons with attention, asks clever questions, takes notes, and at the oral tests he answer in a precise and exhaustive way. He writes deep and well structured compositions. He is unrecognisable compared to the Marco of his first year.
During the second term we went on the school trip to Florence. As I had been there the previous summer, I guided them to see museums and monuments without any problems. They have been five really good days. The students have behaved splendidly, they didn't give me any problem, we amused ourselves although it was an educational trip. Marco was following me like a puppy, but he never bothered me and I was rather pleased having him near me even though, of course, I controlled it so that nobody could notice. I treated him exactly as all my other students.
The odd thing is that, even though there was a history arts teacher, when the students had any doubts, were curious about something or asked for an explanation, they come to ask me, even the students of the other classes.
One evening, a group of my students asked me if, accompanied by me, they could go out of the hostel to have a pizza. I agreed on the condition we remained together all the time. So we set off, Gianni, Luisella, Lorella, Francesco, Simonetta and... Marco, of course. We strolled over the Ponte Vecchio, then ate in a pizzeria in Oltrarno, and then went for a walk in the old city.
While we were in the pizzeria, Lorella was buttonholed by a boy, a soldier off duty. When we were about going out, they were chatting non-stop and I had to go and call Lorella. The young soldier asked me, "Can't she stay some more?" I was about answering him just a 'no', when I saw the begging eyes of Lorella. So I said, "If you want to spend some more time with her, the only solution is you come with us." So we dragged him along with us for the rest of the evening. They embraced and, as there was no danger they passing the limits and as they were in my sight, I let them in peace. Around 11.30 p.m., I told them that we had to go back to he hostel. They swapped their addresses. When we were back on the bus, Lorella thanked me. Love at first sight? It seems so.
During the return journey on the train, I was touring from one compartment to another. Marco didn't lose sight of me for a single moment, even though he tried not to be too conspicuous. He stood in the corridor all the time. We had two cars reserved for our school, but my 3F was all gathered in four adjoining compartments. We sang all the most recent songs and my student were surprised I knew all of them.
Back home I was deadly tired, but happy. I am more and more convinced that these trips are really useful, and that it would be good doing them with the second class if not even with the first year class. I have to talk about that with our Dean, assuming that she will listen to me.
The second term ended well, with Marco scoring on 8.50/10. All my colleagues were really amazed and pleased. They did nothing but sing his praises and that filled me with great pride. Even the Dean leaned in his favour, even though she didn't avoid her usual caustic remarks about the fact that Marco is very smart, "in spite of him being homosexual".
I didn't need to answer her back, as my colleague of Mathematics said, "I can not understand your 'in spite' Madam Dean. As far as I know, the fact that a person is homosexual doesn't inhibit his intellectual abilities. It is know that several great personalities of History and arts were so." This being said by a man happily married, has to be considered remarkable. The Dean took no objection and we changed the subject.
In May Sergio, one of my friend, managed to persuade me to go to a new gay disco that had just opened. It was an elegant place, with agreeable patrons, many of whom were youths. Who do I find there in front of me? Marco, of course!
For a moment I felt ill at ease, but overcame my feeling of trepidation immediately. Marco had an incredible expression, his mouth agape, his eyes wide open.
Then he said, "Matteo! How comes you are here? Didn't you know this is a gay disco?"
"Yes, Marco, I was told it was."
"Ha, so you were curious to see what gay people do together?"
I felt tempted to seize the loophole he was unintentionally offering me, but then I decided it would not have been honest.
So I just "No, the fact is that I am gay too."
Another astonished expression. Then he said, very seriously, almost frowning, "Don't take the piss out of me! You always said you were straight. What is this bullshit? Were you lying then or are you lying now"?
"No, Marco, you are wrong. I never ever maintained that I was straight, neither with you nor with anybody else at school. I never gave anyone that impression. Did I ever talk about women, or about my woman? Did I ever talk about getting married? Did I ever talk against gay people or the like? Answer me honestly, did I ever do that?"
"No, it's true, but... but that time, you know what I'm referring to, you told me to forget it, because you don't like sex with men!" Marco stammered, triumphantly.
"Marco, try to remember the exact words I told you and you will see that not only did I say so, but I did not even play on words to make you misunderstand. If you remember, and I am sure of my words because I have been extremely careful about my words, because I didn't want to take you for a ride, I told you - 'I don't want to have with you the kind of physical relation you desire'. Isn't it so?"
"Y... y... yes, it's true. But I interpreted it..."
"... simply in the wrong way."
"So, you just wanted to tell me that I'm not your type?"
"No, not even that. I think you are a really handsome and likeable boy."
"Sorry, Matteo, but than I really don't understand..."
"Come to sit here, Matteo. What I intended to tell you is that because you are too young and as you are one of my students, even though I desire you I could never accept the establishment of a sexual relationship with you. Is that clear, now?"
"I... I... at first I just desired... to fuck you. This is true. I can't deny it. But the fact is that ... now... I'm in love with you and for all these months I've felt bad because I understood you were straight, that my love was without hope. If I applied, devoted myself so much to my schooling, it seemed just appropriate as it was the only means I had to tell you I was in love with you without running the risk of making you mad at me. You on the other hand... you are gay and... tonight you say you like me, and..."
"But the fact remains that you are too young for me and that you are one of my students and it's mainly the last point that prevents me from thinking of you as somebody with whom I can make love or to fall in love with. Can you understand it?"
"Matteo, all this loud music is making my head hurt. Can we go out for a while to talk calmly? Please..."
"I'll just ask my friend to wait for me, then we can go out for a few minutes. Wait just a moment."
We went out and talked for about two hours. He wanted to know if I loved him as much as he loved me. I told him that it was of no importance, because the problem lay in the fact that I was his teacher, he one of my students, and this was sufficient a reason to demand that our relationship remained as that of teacher and pupil.
He then asked me, "If you had met me this evening, as I am now, a nineteen year old high school student, but not one of your pupils, an unknown boy, and I told you I like you, would you have come with me? Honestly, Matteo, please."
"Honestly? I feel it quite unlikely I would have refused. But history..."
"But history is not written with 'if'. I know, anyway thank you for having answered me honestly. I... I am sorry that you don't feel like doing it with one of your students or more to this point, I regret being one of your students. I respect your convictions, your choices. I will never take profit from the fact I now know that you are gay too. I will not tell anybody, not even Leo and Stefano, you have nothing to worry about."
"Alright. I don't have had the right to ask you this, but your decision not to tell them would not arise problems for me. I am sorry, Marco, believe me. I understand that you are in love with me and I now understood it more thanks to your commitment at school. I was proud of you, or rather, I am. More than proud. I would now, because of the disappointment I have given you, that you cease..."
I cut him off. "No, I will not change. Noting will change... unhappily. But, you see, I can't avoid being in love with you. I tried hard, I swear, but the more I tried to forget you, the more impossible it became. In a certain way, I am happy having to share a secret with you. I will feel you nearer to me, but if you let me give you a piece of advice, be careful coming to this kind of place. You could meet Leo or Stefano. I'm sure that Leo would keep his mouth shut but Stefano, not out of malice, is not able to hold a secret. In a very short time, all the school would know it. Wait at least until we three are out of the high school."
"Marco, I think very highly of you and... and am also fond of you. I wish you were able to forget me. Possibly after July, when we will loose sight of each other, it will become easier."
"Matteo, even when I was sure you were straight, I thought that after the graduation tests I would have preferred not to lose sight of you. I don't think that things will change."
"I think that loving and not having it reciprocated can be one of the most difficult things in the life to endure. I don't want to harm you, believe me, Marco. I think it would be wiser, once you have finished the school, we don't meet any more... at least until your present infatuation is over."
"Let's go back to the disco, Matteo. Your friend would think we are missing in action. May I ask you one more thing?"
"Tell me."
"This friend of yours is... is your boyfriend?"
"No, we are just friends. We never had sex together."
"Do you have a boyfriend, at present?"
"No, I haven't. I had a... half a boyfriend, but we split last August."
We went back to the disco, Marco with his friends and I with mine. Later, while I was fetching my raincoat from the cloakroom, Marco came near me and whispered, "It's not infatuation, it's love. It's different!" and at once went back to the dance floor without leaving me the time to say a single word.
Sergio asked me if that boy was my latest conquest. I then told him the entire story about Marco and me.
Towards the end of the trip back home, Sergio said, "You haven't asked my advice, but I will give it to you just the same. That boy is really handsome and has an honest face. He has been in love with you for a long time, and you're in love with him too. I can understand your choice in not mixing school and private life. I think it has been an intelligent and honest choice. But soon school will be over.Why then would you deny something that you both desire? To whom does such a decision does good? If you continued to say 'no' who would benefit? What profit would it bring to either of you? What does it means once teacher-student relationship doesn't exist any more?"
"Sergio, it would not have been fair telling him to wait for some two, three months, and then hope that after a period of separation Marco will get over it and hopefully, me too. He says it is love, but it is just infatuation. At times it happens that a girl has a crush for her professor, or a boy for his lady-professor... or like Marco with me. As a teacher, I've became well aware, that happens because his role exerts a fascination similar to that of a psychoanalyst with his patient. It would not be honest to take profit of it."
"But this Marco, just before we left, told you his is not infatuation, but love and that it is not one sided - you're in love with him too and it's not just infatuation with you! Don't shut yourself away in that principle like that of a chrysalis. Middle-ages thinking ended a long ago. Be a balanced person as you have always been."
All this advise was like giving a shove to a person who is about falling into a ravine and asks for help.
At school, Marco did nothing unusual, not a gesture, not a sign, a wink, anything. I admired him. That boy has a self-control I though not possible. It has been difficult for me behaving as if nothing happened, how much more it has been for him? I admired him and felt even more in love with him.
At the disco I didn't tell him that I too was feeling terribly attracted by him, strongly enamoured, and I told him not to make things more difficult for himself. In that disco I felt a terrible desire to embrace him, to kiss him, to declare my love to him, to let myself finally go, to put a stop to this agony that grips me.
At the last term reunion, Marco was admitted to the final graduating tests with the more flattering assessment from this class, even better that that of Leo. According to the Religion teacher, who has all the final year classes, he got absolutely the best assessment of the whole school.
Marco and the others are undergoing the school leaving examination. I'm crossing my fingers for all my students... but especially for "my" Marco. We agreed with 3F that, after the tests are over and before the scores are published, we will go all together to a pizzeria. I agreed, so that I can meet Marco, possibly for the last time.
I hope I will never again have amongst my pupils one who captures, fascinates me like Marco did. It would be too big a stress.
Possibly, growing older, I will become stronger, unassailable, hardened against such kind of things.
I believe I will never forget this 3F, I will never forget Marco.
Before the final teachers meeting, Marco told me he intends to enrol in the literature faculty to become a teacher. Of course this pleased me. Next year the school will seem empty without him. But also without Leo and Stefano.
A month ago, Leo told me, "If statistics don't lie, around ten percent of the population is certainly gay. In this high school summing up all the gays and lesbians, we should count at least forty. In three years of activism not one lesbian came out and just seven gays announced their position. This means that there are no less than thirty boys and girls who are afraid to expose themselves, to let the other know how they really are. Isn't this sad, Matteo?"
"No, Leo, it is just natural. It is rather exceptional, on the contrary, that you were three in the same class. It is not cowardice, believe me, it could be at most a weakness, but each one knows his own family and social situation. They know their own risk. Youths, and mainly minors, are totally dependent on their families, not only for an economic but for moral support. Coming out, for many, would unhappily mean that they lose this support. Not everybody can afford it.
"Just look at the situation of you three. You have parents, who after all, don't really worry about you, and let you do all as you like, thinking that, as long as they give you their money, they have accomplished their duty. You told me so. I unhappily agree with your analysis.
"Stefano's parents beat him. You know that. They exert an incredibly strong pressure on him and continuously control him. Not everybody has Stefano's same force of character and he is to be pitied.
"Marco's parents accepted him, but with the ostrich technique - Don't talk about it any more, let's pretend nothing happened... - 'pro bono pacis', for the sake of peace, but it doesn't seem that Marco is happy with this.
"Seven, you told me, plus you three, it means ten out of forty gay boys. It means the twenty-five per cent who have dared to come out. It's a really high figure, believe me and for what I can understand all this is mainly your merit. You can leave this school happily and proudly, don't you think so?"
"Thank you, Matteo. You are a really exceptional man."
"No, Leo. I too have my limits, my weaknesses, my fears with which I have to live. I always tried to show you, to be honest, only the best aspect of my personality. I didn't do it out of hypocrisy..."
"I know, I understand. You are the best teacher I ever had. You are one of the best persons I ever met. I hope we don't lose sight, after my graduation."
Here we are.
End of a cycle, or almost of an epoch. And yet, in less than three months all will start again with my two old classes and a new first course. Water continues to flow at times rushing, at times quietly, between the banks, towards the sea...
CONTINUES IN CHAPTER 6
In my home page I've put some more of my stories. If someone wants to read them, the URL is
http://andrejkoymasky.com
If you want to send me feed-back, or desire to help revising my English translations, so that I can put on-line more of my stories in English please e-mail at
andrej@andrejkoymasky.com