The Human Condition Ch. 10

Reluctantly, I agreed and we slid apart and got out of the car. My arms felt empty. I popped the trunk and Joe and I retrieved his suitcase and backpack and trudged up the squeaky staircase. I got out my key and put it in the lock and shivered when Joe brushed against me as I opened the door. I stepped aside and he walked in. I turned to look at the big house. The light in the kitchen blinked off. Lucy had waited to make sure everything was okay.

I went inside and closed the door. Joe had dropped his things as soon as he got in and was just standing there. I reached for the light switch.

"Don't." His voice was hoarse. "I need to say some things to you, and I don't think... I don't think I'll be able to go through with it if I can see your face."

My hand froze on the switch and I waited for Joe to go on.

"When I left here, I was pretty sure I wasn't going to be coming back. Not ever." His voice sounded sore, as if the words were hurting him. "I had it all planned out. I'd take a year off; apply to another medical school, start over. I'd decided it would be better if I never saw you again."

I stood there appalled. The fact that I'd already figured that out didn't make it any easier to hear it coming out of his mouth. A choking fear squeezed my chest and made it difficult to breath.

Joe seemed to sense my feelings. "I'm sorry. Maybe I shouldn't be telling you this."

I shook my head even though I knew he couldn't see me do it. "No," I said, keeping my voice steady. "I want to hear everything."

Joe sighed heavily and went on. "I told myself that in a couple of years, maybe we'd be able to get together, pretend nothing had happened. Maybe we could salvage at least some of our friendship. I was kidding myself, of course. But the only way I could face the possibility of not seeing you was to tell myself it was only temporary." He laughed but there was no humor in the sound. "That fact alone should've told me I wouldn't be able to go through it."

My eyes had adjusted to the dark room and I could see him shake his head slowly and shrug his shoulders.

"Self-deception is an amazing defense mechanism," he continued. "It can make you believe the most impossible things."

There was so much pain in his voice I regretted encouraging him.

"Joe, you don't have to..." I started.

"Let me finish." He was too harsh and he knew it. "Please." He'd softened his voice, but it was still an order.

I stayed quiet and he continued after a few moments.

"When I got to Rome, I was determined to put all of this behind me. Josh had an apartment with two other priests. I stayed with them for a few days until I found a place of my own. Josh didn't want me to go, but I told him I needed some time alone to think. He didn't like it, but eventually he gave in, after making me promise that I'd check in every few days."

He paused and cleared his throat.

"Can I have a glass of water?" He asked politely, almost formally.

I was surprised he asked. He'd always helped himself before.

"Sure." I walked over to the kitchen and grabbed a glass and filled it from a bottle in the fridge. The light momentarily blinded me and I had to wait for my eyes to adjust before I walked back over to him. I handed him the glass. He was careful not to touch me, but his fingers shook and some of the water slopped over the rim onto the floor.

"Sit down," I said gently.

I could barely see his face, but I still felt like his eyes were burning into me. He stayed where he was for a minute, then put the glass to his lips and drained it. He handed it back to me, again avoiding physical contact, then went over and slumped on his usual spot on the couch - legs bent, knees spread, with his large hands dangling between his legs. I went back to the kitchen area and filled his glass again and got one for myself. I walked over to the sofa and put his glass in front of him and turned to go sit in my recliner.

"Could you sit on the couch? Like... like you usually do?"

I stopped. I had thought he'd be more comfortable with some distance between us. Apparently, I was wrong. I turned and moved to my traditional end of the sofa and sat down carefully. The bizarre familiarity and strangeness of the scene struck me at once: how often we had sat like this, just bullshitting and telling each other our dreams. Yet somehow, this felt like we were talking for the very first time.

Joe started to speak again in a low, soft voice. I leaned forward and hung on every word, as if my life depended on it.

"At first, I had this plan. I was going to do all these things - play tourist, meet new friends. For a few days I tried, but nothing really interested me. The ancient ruins left me cold; museums were a bore. Nights, I'd just sit in a bar and I'd listen to the people around me. I couldn't join in, and not just because of the language barrier. It seemed like I'd lost the ability to connect with people." He cleared his throat. "It was a novel experience."

I'll bet, I thought. Joe was used to having an entourage. Except for the times we'd spent alone, I didn't think I'd ever seen him without at least of couple of buds tagging along.

"I told myself I wanted companionship," he continued, "but I kept avoiding it at the same time. Josh was almost out of his mind worrying about me, but even with him I couldn't really open up. I mean... I told him about us, but only to a point - only the facts. I just couldn't make myself tell him how I felt. Our connection had been slipping for a long time - ever since high school, really - but I didn't know how much we'd really grown apart until I saw him this summer."

He stopped talking and took another gulp of water. "It wasn't like we were suddenly strangers. It'll never be like that; he'll always be my brother, my twin. But we no longer depend on each other the way we used to. Josh has the church; I had... well, I wasn't sure what I had, but I knew it wasn't him anymore. I couldn't tell him all that'd happened between Betsy and me. I... I couldn't tell him how I really felt - about you."

"He knew anyway," I interrupted gently.

Joe nodded and turned away slightly. "Yeah," he admitted. "That's right. Josh was always good at reading me. Anyway, he guessed or did the old twin thing - I don't know. But he finally came to me and confronted me. It took him a while to wear me down, but he kept after me, bugging me. The day you called was the day I finally broke down and told him all of it. You calling like that..." He made a gesture of helplessness, then sat back and ran his fingers through his hair. "Well... it seemed to just be the final straw. That's the real reason I blew up with you. Josh was pissed at me about that, by the way. He thought I'd acted like a real shit-head. We fought about it more than once."

"I know."

"That's right, he told you. I knew he talked to you afterwards. He likes you - did you know that? He says you're tough and brave, even if you do have lousy taste in men."

I couldn't stop myself; I reached over and stroked the arm he'd draped over the back of the couch. Joe slid it back until our hands touched. I could feel his hand twitch slightly from nervousness, but then his fingers curled and gripped me tightly.

"I'd been there for almost 5 months and I'd developed a whole routine. Every morning, I got up, I'd shower and shave; eat my breakfast and then go out for a walk. I would go in any direction I felt like. I'd walk for hours, only stopping for something to eat or a coffee. Most of the time, I'd get hopelessly lost and would have to take a taxi back to my apartment. At night, I'd go down to the cafe on the corner and I'd watch the neighborhood people. Eventually, I did get to know some of them, but I still felt like an outsider. The world was going on around me, but I didn't feel like I had a place in it anymore."

He squeezed my hand harder and took a deep breath before he continued. "One day, I walked to this little neighborhood about three miles from where I was staying, near the Villa Celimontana. I'd been there before, but it somehow appealed to me, and I'd gone back several times. It was just a middle-class neighborhood, not very beautiful, not particularly old - at least by Italian standards - but there was this little park with a fountain, Parco di Porta Capena, and the neighborhood kids would kick soccer balls and the old men would play bocce and the mothers of the smaller children would sit on the grass and gossip while keeping an eye on their bambinos. But that day, there didn't seem to be anybody around."

"The church on the corner opened its doors and six pallbearers appeared with a coffin. A middle-aged woman, all in black, walked behind it. Two young men supported her. She was crying, and the boys and the crowd that followed were grim. I watched as they loaded the coffin into a hearse and kept my eyes on the scene until everybody had left. After all the activity, the street seemed unnaturally quiet.

"Suddenly, the front door of the house across from where I was sitting swung open and a bunch of people came running out of the house laughing. It was as if somebody had thrown a switch. Houses from all over the neighborhood opened up and people were laughing and shouting at each other.

"An older man appeared in the doorway of the first house and seemed to address the whole neighborhood. Everyone got quiet and watched him as he turned back to the house and motioned to someone. A beautiful young girl appeared beside him, dressed in a white wedding gown. Her cheeks were bright red from embarrassment, but she was smiling. The crowd went wild. They cheered and applauded. Over and over I heard the word, 'bellissima.' Then as suddenly as they started, they were silent again.

"A young man dressed in a dark suit had broken from the crowd and started to walk towards his bride. I saw the look on his face, in her eyes. He took her hand and together, with all the people who lived around that square they made their way to the church. The same church where so many had cried just a little while before. I watched until the crowd had disappeared and the doors had shut. The street was silent again.

"Again, I seemed absolutely alone in that park. It was so quiet I could actually hear the sound a squirrel made as it jumped in and out of bushes looking for stray candy and snacks left by the neighborhood kids. But, after a while, I realized that I wasn't really alone.

"There was a mime or a clown - I never did figure out what to call him - standing just behind the fountain. I'd seen him before; he used to work the street corner up from the café on evenings, when the tourists would be taking a pre-dinner walk. He had this whole schtick he'd do, with balloons and pratfalls, not really the normal 'man in a box' stuff that mimes do, but he was silent like them. Anyway, I'd seen him a lot, so I recognized him now, though I'd never met him before outside of my seat at the café.

"I don't know why he was there that day either. Maybe he was hired for entertaining at the wedding party later - I never did find out. But when I saw him, I realized he must've been watching me for some time. We looked each other over. He smiled at me and motioned towards the church to show he knew what I'd been looking at. I smiled back politely and grabbed my book and pretended to read. A minute later I realized a pair of black ballet shoes were visible in front of me.

"I looked up and saw the clown. He had a big red balloon in one hand, and he lifted it above his head and let go. We both watched as it sailed up over the trees and disappeared. Then he grinned.

"'La vita è bella,'" he said. And then he turned and walked away."

I'd never heard the phrase. "What does it mean?" I asked.

Joe cleared his throat. "It means, life is beautiful."

He stopped, and then I realized I could feel his thumb lightly stoke the top of my hand.

"I couldn't believe it," he said. "I felt like I was in a fucking Fellini film! I started to laugh out loud and had to restrain myself from looking for movie cameras. I couldn't sit there anymore. I was still grinning, but I got up and started to walk back to the apartment, then began to run. I was in a hurry - I had to get back. I wasn't sure why, but the compulsion was irresistible."

He looked up at me. The light was so dim, I couldn't make out the details of his face, but I could see a faint reflection in his eyes. "Suddenly, I stopped," he said. "I knew. I knew that what I wanted - no, needed to do - was to tell you... to share with you what I'd just seen. And not just what I'd seen on that day, but on every day."

He stopped for a moment and sat there. Finally, he began again, his voice soft in the darkness.

"Mike," he said, "I don't know where this will take us. I don't even know if what we feel for each other will last."

His hand squeezed mine, then released it. I felt his heat as he slid towards me. I strained my eyes in the darkness, searching his face as it closed in on mine. Long habit made me want to turn away, to jump up and move to a safer distance - the distance I'd always kept between us in self-preservation. I held my ground.

"But one thing I do know," he reached up and stroked my cheek. I could feel the trembling in his fingers. "And that's that I love you. And even though I don't know exactly what that can bring us, I can't let my fear keep me from finding out."

He tilted my head up so our lips were only millimeters apart and stopped. I wanted to pull him towards me, but I knew it was important to Joe that he be allowed to be in control for that moment. The moment stretched and I forgot how to breathe.

With a shudder, Joe closed the distance between us. The kiss was awkward, our noses got in the way, our teeth clicked harshly, and our tongues felt fat and clumsy as they dueled. Yet I almost came from the sheer joy of it.

"Jesus, this is strange!" Joe whispered in my ear. "The women I've kissed never had heavier beards than me."

"Well, there was that one girl from Greece I remember you dating..." I said, falling back into our normal pattern.

"Fuck you, asshole." Joe punched me lightly, then stopped as he realized that the previously innocent comment had just taken on a whole new meaning.

"Sure," I said with a chuckle. "I'll go get the lube." I tried to leer at him in the dim light, but started laughing instead at the look of alarm on his face.

"Relax," I said, reassuringly. "I was just kidding."

Joe grinned a little, but his eyes still looked worried. I figured now was as good a time as any to get the inevitable sex talk out of the way. I gently pulled away from him and twisted to turn on the lamp on the coffee table. By the time I'd turned back, Joe was in his usual corner of the sofa, eyes cast downward, cheeks flushed in embarrassment.

"I'm sorry." He said simply. "I thought that this would be easier, that somehow things would just fall into place."

"What?" I said, incredulously. "You thought after one kiss I'd be up on all fours wagging my ass in your face?" I shook my head and frowned in mock disgust. "You've been reading gay porn, haven't you?"

I waited until I saw him grin again. "Joe, it's okay," I said. Now it was my turn to move to him. I pulled him into a loose embrace that he didn't return, but didn't resist either.

"Listen," I said soothingly. "We can go as fast or as slow as you want. Gay sex is not as absolute as the boy/girl kind. Different partners make up different dynamics depending on their tastes, their needs. I think we'll just have to take our time and find out what works for both of us." And, I silently prayed, I hope to hell we find it.

I leaned forward and took his mouth again. Now, there was no hesitancy in my kiss, no restraint. Our mouths opened and this time, the awkwardness was gone. Our tongues dueled expertly, as if they'd always known each other. I could have pressed on at that moment. I knew it from the way his body leaned into mine, the way our hearts had taken on each other's beats, but I broke the kiss instead. There were still things to be said and now that Joe was here with me, I felt like we had all the time in the world to explore our possibilities. I was not going to risk rushing through something I'd waited so long to experience.

Which makes me sound like I was making some sort of sacrifice. Not a chance. Sure, I wanted Joe, more than I've ever wanted another human being, ever - but I didn't just mean that physically. I wanted to let his voice sink into my bones and I wanted to re-memorize the planes of his face, the way his eyes asked me questions he wasn't able to put into words. Like I said, this wasn't about sex.

"So," I brushed his hair off his forehead. "Are you hungry?"

He laughed shakily. "Starved."

I pulled out the cold cuts I'd bought the night before for the weekend, and quickly threw together a sandwich. He stayed on the couch and watched me as if he'd never seen me before. I poured him a glass of milk to go with it and brought them both over to him. He thanked me - again too politely - then sat there and stared at the food as if he'd forgotten how to eat.

"Go on," I urged him, "dig in! Just don't get used to the service. I'm not exactly handy in the kitchen."

"Like this is exactly news?" he said with a grin. He picked up half of the sandwich and bit into it. As he chewed he gestured to the remaining part.

"Aren't you having any?" He said as soon as he'd swallowed.

I shook my head. "I'm not hungry."

He shrugged and gulped down the rest of the snack in silence. I watched him greedily. I hadn't exactly been truthful when I said I wasn't hungry. I was - just not for food.

He picked up the glass of milk and drank half of it without taking a break. When he set it down he had a milk mustache. Letting myself give into temptation, I reached across and wiped up the moistness with my finger and stuck it in my mouth, sucking off the sweet liquid, warm from his skin. When I looked back at him, he was staring at my mouth, his eyes hot and filled with desire. He noticed me looking and licked his lips nervously.

We reached for each other at the same time. The kiss was deep and full, as we tasted each other's flavors. Another new style to add to our growing repertoire, I thought. Again, I had to force myself to break away before we got too caught up in the moment. Joe made a little moan in the back of his throat when I did, but he didn't protest anymore. He knew as well as I did that we needed to take care of other things before we sampled any more of each other.

Joe looked at me steadily. "I want to tell you something."

He sat up and shoved back on the couch until he was in the crook of the arm, as far from me as he could possibly get. He seemed to need the distance and I wondered what it was that he could possibly have to say that would make him think that.

"You can tell me anything," I said. "I hope you know that."

He nodded, then bit nervously at his thumb. "I wish I had a cigarette. You didn't know I started smoking in Rome, did you?"

It amazed me. Joe had always been so adamant about all the 'body is a temple' crap. "That's what you wanted to tell me?" I asked incredulously. "'Cause if it is, I'm not wild about the idea - but it's your life." I looked towards the kitchen. "I think I have an ashtray over in the cupboard. Let me go..."

Joe reached over and put his hand on my arm. "Relax - I quit. I threw out the rest of my pack in the airport in Rome."

"Oh." I was confused and I looked at him, waiting for an answer.

"I was just trying to put this off. I need to get it off my chest, but I'm not sure I want to - if you get my drift."

"Take your time," I covered his hand with mine. "We can even wait and do this later if you're too tired now."

Joe slid his hand out from under mine. "No, I don't want to wait. I've been keeping this inside me for far too long as it is - way too long." He sat back again and closed his eyes and began. "I've never been very good with telling the truth."