WRITINGS FROM THE PRISON by Andrej Koymasky (C) 2006 written on December 10th 1994 translated by the author English text kindly revised by Richard E. Grant
USUAL DISCLAIMER
"WRITINGS FROM THE PRISON" 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 12 - AGAIN, BUT TOGETHER, IN PRISON
We were still tightly and intimately united, enjoying the intense sweetness of post-orgasmic bliss, when we heard violent banging on our door. We didn't have time to react when it crashed open and in the door opening appeared a young Arab with a flushed face, a small gun-machine aimed at us, who in broken Italian said, "Don't move! You're Abu Nidal's prisoners!"
We remained still, united, looking at him aghast.
The young man had an amazed expression, for a moment, then said, with an almost low voice: "Dress up... I'm sorry..."
Lorenzo, still inside me, said, "Wait outside, we cannot escape..."
"No, here. Hurry up, you must come to the theater with the others."
Lorenzo looked at me and I nodded. My heart was madly beating, and yet I wasn't really scared - Lorenzo was with me.
We separated and then started to dress. The Arab was staring at us. I had the impression that his basket was growing...
When we were almost ready, the young man asked, "Are you... lovers?"
"I would say there is no doubt, is there?" Lorenzo answered in an amused tone that in part surprised me.
"No... you could have just been enjoying yourselves..."
"Alright, we are lovers. Does that change anything?"
"No, but... if I can I'll make sure you stay together."
"Why are you kidnapping us?"
"Politics. The Italian government is a friend of Israel. And we are Palestinians, of the PLO. We are taking you to swap you with our prisoners being held by the Israeli. We have nothing personal against you, but..."
"And if the Israeli government refuses?"
"We will kill you, one at a time, until they yield."
"In that case... kill us both, when the time comes, me and him..." Lorenzo said with an amazingly calm voice.
"It possibly will be not necessary... Let's go, now..."
Everything seemed unreal. Above all, the quiet tone of our conversation. We were gathered with the other passengers. There were scenes of hysteria, mainly when one of the PLO men shot an American-Jew who was in a wheel chair and who we had noticed the day before. The group leader read us a kind of proclamation. He told us that the ship was being hijacked to Lebanon and that, there, we would be docked and put in a prison where we would wait for the Israeli, Anerican and Italian governments' answer to their demands.
"Oh no, in prison again!" Lorenzo whispered to me, then added, "It seems to be my destiny..."
"But at least we are together," I said in an uncertain tone.
He gave me a light smile, squeezed my arm and said, "Yes, at least this time we are together."
We disembarked and were led to a building. I couldn't figure out what it was for, because it was night and there were no lights. In groups, they made us enter rooms with a spy-hole on the door. When our turn came, one of the guards separated Lorenzo from me. We both protested and there arose a discussion in a kind of mixed language made of Italian, French and English. The guard was becoming upset when the young man appeared who caught us in our cabin. When he recognized us, he said something to the other, in Arabic. A short discussion followed, but then Lorenzo was kept out of that room and put in another with me and two other persons from the ship - a waiter and an Italian passenger we hadn't met before.
When the door was shut behind us, we saw that the room, faintly lit by a naked bulb hanging from the ceiling, contained just four straw mattresses and nothing else.
"What will they do to us?" asked the man, who must have been around forty years old and who, I later learned, was called Donato. He was a dentist from Lucca.
The waiter, Franco, a twenty-seven years old man from Caserta, said with a sad voice: "Nothing good."
We talked a while and Lorenzo seemed the most quiet of us all. I admired him a lot. Then at a certain point, the light was switched off and on three times, then it was definitely switched off. We learned that this was the signal for bed time. Lorenzo and I, uncaring about what the other two thought of it, lay on the same mattress and embraced.
We talked a quietly a little, then I fell asleep while Lorenzo was lightly caressing my cheek.
So, our captivity began.
We are still prisoners, after 287 days. Nothing has changed. We are always kept in the same room. They bring us something to eat twice a day, and they switch off the light at night. We have no news of any kind. We are not treated badly, but of course not nicely either. They did obtain medicine that Donato needs.
Lorenzo and I, after the first few days, have resumed making love when the lights go out. For sure, the other two are aware of it, but they say nothing. When we started to tell each other about our lives in order to make the time pass, and to get to know each other better, Lorenzo told them calmly about being in prison, and how he met and fell in love with me. Thus, I too told of my experiences and about my life as a gay man.
Donato seemed intrigued; he never had such experiences and, previously, had thought of homosexuals as effeminate and extremely promiscuous people. But he didn't show any prejudice towards us.
Franco, on the contrary, confessed that as a boy, in high school, he had a short, but very intense relationship with a school-mate. But then he met a girl and fell in love with her and so he had no more gay encounters... other than some hustling for money during his military service.
A few days later I was able to get a copybook and a pencil, so I started writing these pages. And for the first time, Lorenzo came to know the real reason why I was put in prison.
With an amused smile he said, "I should feel grateful to that rogue who paid you to go inside in the place of his son, then."
For a few days now they have allowed us, in small groups, to get a breath of fresh air out in a small courtyard for a couple of hours each day. This allows us to meet the other prisoners and to talk to each other, even though nobody has reliable or interesting news to tell.
The building, we got to know, was a former school, changed to a prison for us when the group planned our kidnapping. We still don't know if anything is being done for us, if the governments are doing anything to free us. But as far as I know, none of us has been killed yet. Rather, rumor tells that the women, who were locked up elsewhere, have been freed along with the children younger than sixteen.
How long will we be kept in here? Will we one day be freed or will we be killed? If we are killed, would they keep the promise to kill us together, Lorenzo and I? At times, the young man who burst into our cabin is on guard. He seems to have somewhat of a liking for us, even though he doesn't say very much. Anyway he's the one who got this copybook for me.
His name is Selim and is twenty-four-years old. I suspect that he, too, is gay and that for this reason he has some liking for us; he is a handsome youth, especially the few times he smiles.
Here, days seem to never pass. Every day seems to be always the same. Donato keeps count of the days, making a graffiti-calendar on the wall. Today, if he is right, it's Sunday. It's not that anything changes in knowing that.
We were allowed to bring with us a small handbag, mainly a change of clothes. Once a week we can do laundry and, on the same day, we can also have a warm shower. On the other days, we have to wash ourselves in a bucket with cold water. Therefore, we shave just once a week. I like Lorenzo with his shadow of a beard. To tell the truth, I like him any way.
At times I think about my kiosk - I guess that Paolo is keeping it open. Not having any news is a weird experience - it seems almost like living outside time and reality. But at least Lorenzo is with me and I am with him - we are a lot more lucky than the others. Franco has a girlfriend; Donato has a wife and two children. For them it is very depressing not having the possibility of talking to their loved ones. Yes, we are really lucky, in a sense, Lorenzo and I.
We are lucky especially at night when we make love. We are able to forget everything and everyone - only we exist and, in spite of it all, we feel good. In the beginning, I felt somewhat ashamed in the morning because of the other two and looked for their reactions. But no more. It seems that they have accepted the fact quietly. Indeed, it could be just my fantasy, but it seems to me that Donato is starting to look at Franco with growing interest. It's not that he is courting the waiter, but I can tell there is something in the air.
One thing is evident - at first they both showed some modesty when they were changing their clothes. Now both undress with extreme naturalness, absolutely not worrying if the others are looking at them or not. And Donato, each time, looks at Franco's naked body, who is quite well built, with a not so hidden interest.
A few days ago Franco told me that we are lucky to be together, Lorenzo and I, as we can make love, "I'm missing that more and more..." he ended.
Selim, suddenly, seems to have become more talkative. Yesterday, during the outdoor exercise time, he approached Lorenzo and I and said, "If one of you was freed, who would you want to be freed first?"
At once, we both answered, "Him!"
Selim seemed amused and asked me, "Why him before and not you?"
"I don't want to be free, knowing he is not. I prefer the opposite. And then, I know that outside he would do everything possible for me." I answered.
Lorenzo asked, "Do you think one of us can be freed soon?"
"No... I don't know... I asked just for the sake of asking..." Selim evaded.
"No, you know something... why don't you tell us?" Lorenzo insisted, in a whisper, looking in his eyes.
"I cannot talk..."
"Then, I'm right!" Lorenzo triumphantly concluded. Then he added, "You have always been kind to us... if you can, do so that we can be freed together."
"It's not my decision."
"Please... I don't know why you behave so with us, but we can count on no one else here. And I can tell you are friendly with us. In a different situation, we could possibly become real friends."
"Yes... that's true... but..." Selim hesitantly said, then continued, "You ask me why I've a liking for you... Well, it's because... when I saw you there in your cabin, that day... I saw myself and my boy, when we were still together."
"Your boy?" I asked, not really surprised, than asked him, "Why aren't you together any more?"
"He... he's dead, during an attack of Israeli on our camp. That's why I decided to join the guerillas."
"Were you in love?"
"Yes... I was his first and only man."
"How old was he?" I asked him.
"Sixteen, when he gave himself to me the first time... and twenty-one, when he was killed... His name was Yakub..."
"I'm sorry..." Lorenzo murmured.
"Thank you. I hope you two will have better luck."
"Then, Selim, you really can't tell us anything?" Lorenzo asked him again.
"No, really. Don't insist, please."
Of course we didn't insist. But now we started to hope that this imprisonment would soon come to an end.
There is no sign, other than that question by Selim, but we think we see in the eyes of the young Palestinian a light that was not there before. Is it only because he confided us that he had a boyfriend and that he loved him? Or is it because he really knows something positive about our destiny? We cannot tell.
We cannot but wait...
THE END
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