PUNKS Ch. 30: Dirty Little Secrets

She gave the most love to Annie and Carlo, friends who adopted Joe when he arrived in 1986, fresh off the road from South America. On his first day in Venice, technically homeless, Annie gave Joe a free coffee and pastry. He's been there every day for ten years. Carlo's restaurant is Joe's time machine, taking him back home to Federal Hill for his comfort food, pasta, and seafood.

Mila did not gloss over the other side of Venice. She described the beach, the boardwalk, and the community Joe loves because it's dirty and gritty and has all the problems of the city. It's not a homogenous resort beach. Venice is the real world with crime and homelessness and people working together trying to solve those problems.

She talked about his modest home and studio and the old car that he calls Ellie who he hopes to drive until the day someone pries his hands off the steering wheel. Joe could surely have more, she wrote, but he does not need more. Joe fills his life with people, not possessions.

Not once did Mila write at length about Joe himself. Instead, she slipped in small passages and single sentences throughout the piece saying everything she needed to say about the man; his warmth, generosity, charm, humor, mischievous smile, and the sparkle in his eye when he laughed.

Mila concluded... In my happy life, the only time I have felt this much warmth and love was with my own family and friends. These strangers took me in, as they did Joe many years ago.

Joe set the magazine down. He got through it. He poured another double bourbon. He downed it, wondering what words made people suspect Mila Carrera had slept with the subject of her piece. Nothing stood out. He phoned Mila and she explained herself.

"I wrote paragraphs about you alone. It was too much. I loved writing these thoughts and feelings I have for you but I could see it was too revealing. I broke it down in pieces and sprinkled it in, but my feelings still come out."

"I don't think there's anything to worry about. No one knows for sure."

"My editor knows. I checked out of the Hyatt two days early."

"Oh, crap."

"I was asked to keep this under ten-thousand words. I couldn't do it, so they gave me more space. I had to remove a lot of your past, your New York story, and most of your travels. I barely mention them. I wrote about your life today. I hope this is acceptable."

"Yes, of course. Everyone knows those stories... well, the people who matter. I'm concerned about you at the magazine, and your editor."

"He's okay. It's not so bad, but I was scolded for getting too close and losing my objectivity. I told him that's why I didn't write this as an exercise in journalism. I wrote about my experience with you in Venice, my feelings as well as facts."

"I wish I could hold you right now."

"You will. When this passes I want to see you. You owe me a tour of your Chelsea office and introductions to your oldest friends."

"I will keep that promise."

"And I will keep mine. What did you think about my feelings, Joe?"

"I've written poetry, and many songs about people I love... and those who've hurt me. I've never had anyone write a word for me." He exhaled, "So, it was hard for me to be on this side, having beautiful words penned for me, about me. I like it, Mila, but it's hard."

"You are so stubbornly insecure. You try to pass it as modesty, but I think you're afraid to give yourself credit for... anything."

Joe laughed lightly, "No, I'm quite full of myself. You only had three days with me. I can hide it that long."

When it was time to hang up, neither Joe nor Mila knew what to say. The words, I love you, goodnight, were so automatic for Joe, but he could not say them. Mila was awkwardly silent until Joe let her off the hook.

"Can we talk again, like real soon?"

"Yes, I would like that."

"Goodnight, Mila."

"Goodnight, Joe."

After Joe hung up he read the piece again, this time looking specifically for any passages, sentences, or even a simple choice of words that might tip a reader off that he and Mila were more than the writing suggests. There was nothing obvious, it was just the tone of the piece that felt emotional and intimate. Joe concluded there was nothing obvious and they were safe.

He really only cared about one reader. He hoped Tina wouldn't read between the lines.