July
15th,
1975
Rome
The
small flat's appearance
was like a
bucket of cold water poured over the three youths’
heads. Rococo
was so...
“At
least it's not the Trastevere,” Albert mumbled,
his gaze lost
over the heavily ornamented furniture:
a large sofa,
two armchairs and a ridiculously large—for
the tiny place—dining
table with six matching chairs. “Is this thing Victorian or what?”
“Cola
di Rienzo is very well located,” Konrad affirmed. “It's just a
short walk
from the
Vatican,” he added and his friends looked at him in disbelief.
“Are you planning to go to Mass every day?”
Ferdinand asked.
“Friederich
told me to
go to the
service at ten. It's still in Latin.”
“Konrad,
dearest cousin of mine... What did we all promise on
the plane? We are here for a holiday and that includes, at least in
Ferdinand's and my view,
no religious
services, no studies, no
museums, no
Christian, Pagan or whatever crypts you're planning to visit, and
certainly not waking up at an ungodly hour to do some sightseeing.”
“I
don't remember agreeing to your plans. I have registered for a summer
course at the National
Museum. Friederich spoke with one of his former superiors and he was
able to get me a date to see the Christian catacombs. You can come
along or not.”
“The only Coliseum I'm going to visit is that new
disco my brother spoke about,” Albert said sternly. “You can come
along or not.”
“If it doesn't interfere with my plans, I might well
go.”
“You're
seriously crazy, Konrad,” Ferdinand said. “We closed the books
not two weeks ago, are in
Rome alone for a month, unsupervised and free to do whatever we want,
and you want to check on some rotten bodies?”
“Yes,
I do. It's where
it all began for
us.” Konrad challenged his friend and Ferdinand sighed defeated.
Konrad
turned around and inspected the apartment with a critical eye.
Although
on the walls and ceiling there were still some rests of what had been
good paintings done on vernis Martin and framed by ormolu moulds,
moisture had finally erased the chubby expressions on the angels’
faces.
'The del Brando
house is not doing so well as they did
in the past,' he thought as he compared it with his grandmother's
residence in Venice.
“Rats or cockroaches?” Konrad asked nonchalantly.
“Worse.
Only two bedrooms with a
king-size bed each,”
Ferdinand said. “It's true this was a flat for four, but I'm not
sleeping with you or Albert.”
“Neither do I.”
“I'm
not sleeping in that butter-cream cake for
a bed,” Albert
protested as
he pulled from
his cousin's arm and
dragged him to a bedroom painfully painted in white and gold, with a
large king-size bed done in ivory colour and
crowned with two facing sphinxes.
“Now
we know what became of the lost
furniture of
Versailles,” Konrad mumbled, impressed by the many carved as
well as painted
flowers and convolutions distributed among the bed, cupboard, night
tables and bedside lamps.
“This
is
impossible!”
Ferdinand groaned. “That's why Friederich was laughing outright
when Albert told him he was planning to get a
girlfriend! No girl in her right mind would do it in here!”
Konrad
chuckled at his tutor's snidely antics to
keep his pupils’ virtue still looking pristine no matter the
reality.
“The
other one is no better,
and in pink!” Ferdinand added.
“I'm
sure this was
uncle’s Karl
Heinz' idea!” Albert whined.
“No,
my father would have shouted outright or threatened with killing us
if we get
any girl pregnant,” Konrad said. “This looks very much like
Friederich or Aunt Elisabetta's kind of work.”
“What do we do now?” Albert asked.
“We flip a coin and see who has to share,” Konrad
decided.
“Should we not directly isolate in the living room
the one who snores?” Ferdinand said. “Albert.”
“Should we not directly send outside the one who
never cleans after himself?” Konrad defended his cousin.
“Ferdinand.”
“Should
we not directly send to St. Peter's the one who wants to spend his
holidays there?”
Ferdinand answered hotly.
“Konrad.”
“We
will never agree, therefore, coin is best. Heads or tails?” Konrad
searched his pockets for a 500 Lire coin, but the sound of keys at
the main door made him stop
mid-movement.
A young brunette girl stood at the entrance, gaping at
the three boys. “I'm sorry. I didn't expect you so soon,” she
said with a raspy voice. “I went to the market.”
“And you are?” Konrad asked, unimpressed by her
sexy intonation.
“Maria
Chiara. I'm the maid,” she answered and moved her head to the side
in a way that made the three boys gape and take another look at her
curvilinear, splendid body. “The
signora
has told me to come in the mornings to clean and in the afternoons
to cook dinner.”
“There are only two bedrooms here,” Konrad pointed
out as his friends could only look at her in utter adoration.
“Yes,
but you can sleep together or one
can take the
couch,” she answered. “Excuse me, I have to prepare your dinner.”
She crossed the room in
the direction of the kitchen only to stop in the middle of the room
when Albert rushed
to take her packages with a complacent,
“Allow me, please,” partly blinded by the flirty smile she
dedicated him.
“Is everything to your liking?” she asked casually,
and batted her long eyelashes at Konrad, already looking at her
disapprovingly.
“Three beds would have been better,” he growled
back. “Dinner at eight.”
“Yes, sir,” she answered contrite, walking faster
to the kitchen as his cousin threw him an incensed look, following
her.
“As it looks, I have to get a life,” Ferdinand
shrugged. “You could be nicer to her.”
“Why?
She's paid for cleaning, not for comedy making. If I wanted
such, I would
visit one of
Bijou's girlfriends. Seems Albert will need one bedroom. Heads or
tails, Ferdinand?”
“Tails,”
Ferdinand growled but caught the coin in mid-air when Konrad flipped
it. “You know what? Why don't we go out and see what we catch? You
speak the natives’
language.”
“I don't want to go out tonight,” Konrad answered
flatly.
“Let
me guess.
Your big plan
for tonight is to
read once more
that stupid magazine trying to figure out how to assemble that stupid
thing you bought with your salary?”
“It's
an Altair 8800,
and I'm just
having a few problems with its assembly.”
“It's a total waste of time. We go out tonight. After
dinner. Albert might need some privacy.”
“Fine! What happens when we come back?”
“You get the bloody bed!” Ferdinand retorted very
upset. “Happy now?”
“Good.
Come
to think of it, establishing a
rotation schedule would be the best and fairest thing to do.”
* * *
Ferdinand
sighed when he saw the jacket Konrad was planning to take to their
big hunting night:
a dark blue one.
“Did nobody tell you this is 1975?” he asked and
the tall, blond boy looked at him.
“Something wrong?”
“Everything.
It's a fucking suit what you are wearing! We are supposed to go meet
girls at the
trendiest place this city has!”
“The
shirt is light blue, it's well past five so I can wear a dark blue
suit, and
the tie is red.”
“It's burgundy.”
“Is there any difference?”
“Only
some fifty years,”
Ferdinand
mumbled. “You look like a baby banker.”
“I work part-time in a bank. Why do you always
pretend to be who you are not?”
“Because we are in our twenties?”
“You
are planning to join the Army just because it's a
tradition in your family,
and here you are, trying to look modern when you're more conservative
than I am. Friederich is a free-thinker compared to you.”
“Let's don't argue. OK? I only hope we are not kicked
out.”
“I don't think so. I phoned Armin, and he made us a
reservation at the VIP's lounge,” Konrad commented nonchalantly and
Ferdinand groaned. “What is it now?”
“The
queue is where you make friends and meet other tourists.
Now we're going
to seat at a table and be bored!”
“Can you not do the same at a lounge instead of
standing like a dog for two hours?”
“A
common enemy, meaning the doorman, is what you need to get the
girls to take a look at their saviour. A good tip saves me a lot of
preliminary work on them. You can also see the target under a better
light.”
“I never considered that strategy. Interesting
approach.”
“You
better smarten up if you want to get a girlfriend. Girls are more
outgoing than before, and they're going to tear you into pieces the
minute you open your mouth.”
“It
depends where you look for said
girlfriend. Obviously, those in a disco are not for marrying.”
“Were you speaking with Friederich again?”
Ferdinand groaned. “Don't sit and wait for Romy Schneider to cross
that door and marry you. It won't happen.”
Konrad
only sighed and said,
“Unfortunately not. Alas,
she must be ten or fifteen years older than me. What a woman.”
* * *
The
large doorman looked at Ferdinand with a mixture of disregard and
scorn as the young man proudly stood in front of him, ignoring the
large queue of people anxiously waiting to enter. Obviously, the
youth was underage
and trying to pose as a rich man with his cream suit.
“Lintorff,”
Konrad growled almost passing over the
as tall as he giant. The man had the good idea to move aside fast and
bow his head, but he was ignored, and Ferdinand rolled his eyes to
the starry sky before he trotted after his friend.
A
young slender woman, dressed with a white
mini toga and
with the strangest
hairdo Ferdinand had seen in his life,
bowed to them and smiled, telling something in Italian to Konrad.
They followed her through the narrow grey passage that led to a large
Roman mosaic depicting children and dolphins,
hanging
over a deep red wall. Behind it were two sets of stairwells, and the
sound of music became stronger and stronger as before their eyes
appeared a large Roman amphitheatre.
The
arena was the dance floor, crowded with people dancing to the disco
music, and Ferdinand could only gape at the
decadent love scenes being performed by many couples without any kind
of restraint. He
sat on the velvet divan of their box, and perched his body over the
rail overlooking the arena to see everything better.
“Rémy
Martin X.O.” Konrad ordered the girl, and Ferdinand, still looking
at the place in awe,
babbled that he wanted a whiskey.
“This place is great. Looks very much like the Roman
Empire.”
“There's quite a mix of styles. That's from the first
style, but the frame is from the third one,” Konrad commented
looking at the walls decorated with frescoes resembling those of the
late Roman Empire. “At least Bijou has taste and copied from the
originals.”
“Must be because of that film. Would love to see it.
Wenger told me it's outrageous,” Ferdinand said with a mischievous
glint dangling from his blue eyes.
“Fellini's
Satyricon?”
“That
one, but you can't go see
it. Friederich would
kill you,” Ferdinand chortled as he looked at the waitress in her
short white tunic, bending her slender body to leave the drinks in
front of them. “Nice uniform,” he giggled once she was away.
“I had no idea you liked boys,” Konrad chuckled.
“What?
That's a girl!” Ferdinand protested.
“Perhaps.
Check better next time and,
for your
information, that's a peplum and it's meant for boys. The other
waitresses have long togas and wear earrings.”
“You're
kidding,” Ferdinand
said dismayed.
“Perhaps.”
Konrad
returned his attention to the other tables, watching as
the people lying on the Roman style couches enthusiastically
spoke and gestured among themselves.
“Look, over there is Armin with his friends,” he said, indicating
with his head a short table crammed with champagne bottles and a
centrepiece made of tropical fruits,
and surrounded
by four or five couches filled with couples.
“Cousin
Armin is busy,”
Ferdinand giggled as Albert's elder brother passionately
kissed a young
girl with half of her long evening gown gone.
“Actresses from Cinecittà,” Konrad observed.
“Maybe he can introduce one to us. You could use
one.”
“Maybe
you would
get one of your own if you wouldn't look so desperate all the time,”
Konrad retorted.
“Says
who? Mr.
I-don't-need-a-girlfriend?
I don't see anyone hanging from your arm.”
“Is that what you think?”
“I
see no girl around you
willing to be kissed,”
he repeated a little belligerently.
“Ferdinand,
if I want to,
I can get laid in this place faster than you. Although, I wouldn't do
it so publicly as my cousin Armin over there.”
“Ha,
ha,” Ferdinand laughed drily. “How do I check you are
first?”
“Easy,
we look for a couple of girls together. Women love to brag about
their
conquests. Ten to one, the minute I'm finished, she runs to her
girlfriend and asks her to go with her to the restrooms so
she can spill
the whole story.”
“Do you have so much money that you can lose it so
easily?”
“Perhaps. Deal?”
“Fine. Ten to one I'm luckier than you.”
“Do we set a deadline?”
“What?”
“If by tonight at twelve, we have not succeeded, then
we call it off. Tomorrow I have to stand up early.”
“Konrad,
are you planning to bed a woman in less than three hours, and then go
home to sleep?” Ferdinand asked horrified. “Where is the
romance?”
“If
this year's hit is “Voulez
vous coucher avec moi?”
there is really no need for romance. We said getting laid, not
getting a wife.”
“You're
sick,” Ferdinand blurted out with complete seriousness. “That
is... unhealthy.”
“See?
You're more conservative than I am,” Konrad chuckled. “Sex and
love have nothing in common. At
the moment, I'm looking for sex. I know exactly what I want in a
committed relationship, and I will not find it here,” he answered,
scanning with his eyes the dance floor below them till he spotted two
blonde women in their early twenties. “Over there, do you like
them?” he asked his friend.
“They look great; they won't pay attention to us.”
“They
look bored and as
if they were
feeling out of place. Tourists no doubt. Not from our entourage too.”
“Excuse me?”
“The clothes and jewellery.”
“Sorry?”
“Fake
and obviously prêt
à porter.”
“How
can you tell?”
“Two
very boring afternoons with Aunt Elisabetta at Rue Cambon. Wait for
me here. Order some champagne and one of those fruit
baskets.”
Ferdinand
watched as
his friend rose from the divan and flashed
him a seductive smile that made him look younger and harmless before
disappearing in the
direction to the dance floor.
“‘What
I'm looking for, I'm not going to find it here’,”
Ferdinand mimicked his friend's words. “Where
does he want to find a wife? At St.
Peter's?”
'What
is he looking for? Something smells fishy here,' Ferdinand thought
and motioned to the waitress with the short dress once he saw the
girls laughing heartedly at something Konrad had said. 'When he wants
to,
he can be more seductive than Albert or I together. He even looks
like a normal person when he's trying to get into
someone's bed.'
The
waitress asked what he wanted, and Ferdinand noticed that
her voice was a
bit too low to be a woman's. Suffocating a shudder, he ordered the
champagne, four glasses and the
fruit. 'Bloody
Konrad, he was fucking right.
'What
does he want from a woman? He does not trust them at all and,
considering how his mother is, I can't blame him. Does he like...?
Nah! He was the first of us to run to Bijou's girls and he has
been visiting
them quite frequently over the past year.
'He
has also been
talking to me nonstop about this man, the young doctor he met at Sylt
last Summer. What was his name? Gerhard?
'Could
it be as Armin thinks?
'No
way!' Ferdinand thought when he saw Konrad putting his arm around the
waist of one of the girls as he whispered something in
her friend's ear. 'We have to get him a Romy Schneider as soon as
possible.'
He
rose to his feet when Konrad came back
with the girls, already holding one very informally. He briefly
introduced them with a,
“What a
coincidence, Astrid and Katherine are from Bonn and study art at the
University of Rome.”
For
a brief while,
Ferdinand hoped that as the girls were simple and normal students, it
would force Konrad to drop the stupid bet and perhaps behave like a
normal human being and
try to remotely
connect with them. But his hopes were crushed some thirty minutes
later when Konrad said with that particular light false tone he used
when there was something he deeply hated, “Yes, Jim Morrison's
poetry is interesting for a beatnik,”
flashing a blinding smile to Astrid. “Do you paint?”
“I'm
a sculptress,” she said. “I like working with recycled materials
that I pick on the streets. Consumerist society should question
itself why we waste so much. There is art
in trash.”
Ferdinand
closed his
eyes, half expecting to hear something like “dumpsters’
robbers” or any other such
atrocity, but instead of that, Konrad gently asked her about her
sources of inspiration, successfully feigning to be interested in her
opinions. The insistent looks from his own new ‘girlfriend’
forced him to stop staring at Konrad's antics and focus on her,
serving her more champagne and turning
to listen to
her.
“That's
outrageous!!” Astrid laughs thundered over them, but her head fell
into Konrad's shoulder
and he didn't
miss the chance to embrace her. “What was it?”
“Catullus,”
he answered aloud and
returned to whisper in her ear, making her blush and laugh stronger
than before.
Finding
it
hard to concentrate, Ferdinand felt like a ‘newbie’ when the girl
rose from the couch and her eyes daringly fixed upon Konrad's,
chewing her lower lips provocatively. Konrad only smiled at her
wolfishly and stood up
determinately to
steer her out through a different door.
'Poor
Konrad, now he has to dance with her and he hates it,' Ferdinand
thought as he began to kiss the young woman next
to him, glad
that she was letting him put his hands wherever he wanted.
His
pleasure was cut short
when the other
girl returned, giggling like an idiot, and unceremoniously pulled her
friend from the arm, talking to her very fast. Katherine simply
pushed him away and listened to the story her friend was pouring into
her ear. Without any kind of warning, both women stood up and left
them while Konrad sat in front of Ferdinand and
served himself
another glass of champagne.
Ferdinand
watched in awe how both giggling girls ran away to
the restrooms.
“What happened?”
“Just
gave her a practical Latin lesson. Irumare
et pedicare. Pity
she was so traditional and preferred the usual way. I was expecting
more from a hippie,” Konrad shrugged and grimaced when he noticed
the wine had become hot.
“Where the hell did you learn that?”
“Carmen
16. Poor Friederich
had a very hard time trying to explain me those verbs, but his
revenge was epic: I had to analyse the syntax of some twenty poems
more. Since that day, I love Horatio as I get less homework with
him.”
“You just...?”
“Made love to her. Yes, I did. Piece of advice, take
her to the boxes over that door. They're included in the VIP
service.”
“When did you find that out?” Ferdinand blurted
out.
“Armin told me,” he explained sounding a bit bored.
“OK, I'm going home now.”
“What?” shouted Ferdinand.
“I told you I wanted to go to the Vatican in the
morning. Be fast and get the girlfriend before the other begins to
wail. Offer to accompany them to their hotel, and find out which one
it is. I would like to send her flowers tomorrow.”
“Are you standing up a girl and offering her flowers
the next morning?” Ferdinand asked dumbfounded.
“‘For
a wonderful and unique evening’,”
Konrad said with a mock
smile. “If she's clever, she'll get it. Now, she's probably telling
her friend what we did. That's your window of
opportunity as the other will want the same, just to avoid being ‘the
ugly one’. Be fast and merciless, like in a takeover, Ferdinand.”
Konrad rose from the sofa and quickly shook his shocked
friend's hand. “Beatniks,” he huffed. “I'm sending you two
bottles more. See you tomorrow.”
Gaping,
Ferdinand watched how
his friend handed a large wade of notes to the waitress-waiter and
added an extra
tip as he playfully smacked her-his bottom.
'Fuck,
maybe I
am the prude.'
* * *
“Do
you have any idea of where Konrad might be?” Ferdinand asked as he
shook Albert
awake.
“He
came back around six in the morning, showered and left. Noisy
bastard,” mumbled the
other youth,
burying his head under the pillows of the Rococo bed, but Ferdinand
shook him again. “How was it?” Albert
asked, slowly sitting on the bed.
“It
was the strangest night of
my life.”
“Well, our Maria Chiara really knows how to set
things on fire,” Albert chuckled and yawned, stretching his back.
“I
mean, he fucked a girl he had
known for less
than an hour, and then he left for home at eleven;
and you say he was here at six?”
“He
told me he wanted to see the city at night,
walking along
the Tiber. Good for him he got something.”
“His behaviour is not normal.”
“Why? Free love, baby. I admire his ability to get it
without hassle. And you?”
“I
did like he told me and also got some,”
Ferdinand mumbled, blushing just a bit.
“What?”
“He
told me to fuck her companion right there before the other would
realise he was away and I
had to endure ‘her wailing’. He left everything paid. This is not
normal at all.”
“Be
glad he paid before leaving,” Albert defended his cousin. “Many
people
we know at school wouldn't do it. Maria Chiara will be back at seven
in the afternoon, if you get my meaning.”
“That's
another thing.
Konrad suggested we take rounds
to use the beds.”
“Fine, he's the first to be out,” Albert shrugged.
“No girlfriend, no bed.”
* * *
Standing
in the middle of St. Peter's square, Konrad felt uneasy thinking
of yesterday
night's events. 'Why can't women be like us? Obviously they
want to have fun, but why do they have to disguise it as love?'
His
eyes were caught by an attractive young man's form, conservatively
dressed in a dark suit despite the scorching sun shining over the
place. The stranger walked at
a fast pace and soon
vanished under one of the arches that led to Via della
Concilliazione. 'Roman men are truly something,' he thought. 'But
those in Milan or Venice look more to my taste.
'No
matter how much I try so,
I can't empathize with a woman. They're just not like us. How can I
marry one and share the rest of my life with
her when I can't
even talk to them normally?'
Repressing
a sigh, he walked towards the queue at the entrance of the Basilica
and silently
watched the dialectical battle between two Italian employees, dressed
in their dark clothes, against two young British tourists and their
mini-skirts. 'How can I be with a person who does not even respect a
basic thing like a dress code?
'Aunt
Elisabetta would know what to do, but women like her are not usual
any longer. Those two tarts are totally convinced that their fashion
is more
important than our Lord's house.'
Almost
losing his patience, he walked forwards and loudly said in
clear English:
“Excuse me,
madams, but as
you wouldn't think to go to Ascott without a hat, you
cannot enter here in such attire.”
Both
tourists looked at him from head to toes behind their sunglasses,
and Konrad could feel the hatred pouring from their eyes. He held
their regard
as the Italian clerks held their breath. “German!” one of them
spat but turned around to leave the stairs. Konrad
returned to his
original place in the queue where the tourists had oddly stopped
their conversations and
were gaping at
the youth dressed in
a beige day suit and a tie.
The line slowly advanced till the employees stopped it.
“Too full,” one of them said.
“Excuse me, I want to attend the ceremony,”
slightly protested Konrad.
“No ceremony now.”
“At ten, in Latin.”
The
man looked at him and then
moved away to let him pass. 'What a strange cross he's wearing. I
wonder from which congregation is he.'
* * *
When
Konrad returned to the flat at two, he noticed three things: one, his
friends were gone; two, the flat was not cleaned;
and three, there
was nothing prepared for lunch. 'I will certainly have a word with
the maid. Fucking with Albert is not an excuse for loafing,' he
thought as he jumped over the clothes
scattered around the floor.
'Ferdinand and Albert are two filthy pigs.'
Hanging
his own jacket, he realised that he had only an hour to eat and be at
the National Museum on time. 'I could forgo
lunch and take
Via del Babuino.'
Konrad
searched for a small notepad among his things and put it inside a
simple leather shoulder bag, before he changed his shirt into another
short-sleeved
plain one. He frowned when he noticed that the dirty clothes had not
been taken away. 'If she does not do it, Albert will have
to do it.'
He
grabbed an apple and closed the door with some force to walk
down the stairs,
still upset at the state the flat was left. Walking at a very fast
pace, the first
two hundred metres somehow calmed his nerves and,
once more, he
was taken
aback by the
serene and aristocratic beauty of the city, unperturbed
by the many
deafening motorcycles daringly passing next to him. He slowed his
pace down and began to enjoy the view, admiring the grandiose over
the narrow streets
without
suffocating the bystander. The intended quick walk evaporated from
his mind as
he began to pay attention to the busy men and women bustling over the
streets in an organised chaos;
the Roman spoken by the elder people negotiating prices at an open
market hard for him to understand.
Much
later than he had expected, he
almost crossed the large Piazza dei Cinquecento that led to the
Palazzo Massimo at a run.
He asked one of the doormen about the lecture rooms as he showed him
his receipt and he growled to
him to go to the
fourth floor.
Nearly
out of breath, Konrad found the small room where about twenty elderly
women were sitting. 'Strange, I didn't know numismatics
was so popular
among women,' he thought as he took a chair in one corner, clearly
intimidated by the obtrusive looks he got from them. Embarrassed,
feeling out of place, and cursing the
fact he was not
wearing a jacket as he should have done
in the presence
of so many ladies, he remained quiet in his corner.
The
memory of the almost impossible to understand Italian he had heard
increased his uneasiness. 'Elisabetta's Italian is very classical.
What if I don't get a single word they speak?' To hide his growing,
almost pathological shyness, he took
out his pad and fountain pen and feigned to be deeply immersed in his
thoughts.
“Good
heavens there's another man in here. I was thinking to wear a dress
next time,” a male voice whispered in a cultivated Italian next to
his ear. “And
there comes the
old crone.”
Still
shocked, Konrad looked at the young man sitting next to him and all
his internal alarms sprang to life as he took
in the faded
(and slightly torn) jeans, the floral
print of the short-sleeved
shirt and the red curly hair that had not seen a hairdresser in a
long time.
He
felt very ridiculous when he stood up as the old teacher entered
the room and she watched
incredulously his
display of deference. He regained
his seat, willing to be six feet under as the older ladies looked at
him with a mixture of tenderness, sadness and longing.
“You're
so dead after this one. Moravia
is one of the most well-known
feminists the
University has,” the young man chuckled as the teacher was taking
her books out. “Hope you don't need the credits to graduate.”
“Is she not Professor Teschi?” Konrad whispered.
“Teschi? No. Archaeology is downstairs, at the
basement. Quite boring. The youngest is fifty years old.”
“What is this?”
“Early
Christian Women's Theology. Yesterday she cooked St. Paul,
and soon we will
find the Gospel of Mary Magdalene,” the youth answered with an
amused smile, taking a good look at the martial blond with such
striking blue eyes.
The
furious look Konrad received from the teacher, very similar to those
he would
get from his
aunt Elisabetta when she was “disappointed” of
him, froze the
blood in his veins, and he braced himself for a, beyond any doubts,
heretic lecture.
* * *
Two
hours later, as Konrad could feel the amusement pouring out of the
young man as he
was putting
together his materials. “It looks like you really fell into the
wrong pond,” the young man chuckled. “German?”
“Almost.
Swiss,” Konrad answered, fighting his desire to stand up as the
women
left the room.
“Banker?” The other asked with a smirk.
“Almost.
Office boy,” Konrad answered barely containing the
laughter threatening to escape his lips in a need
to vent the frustration of spending two hours hearing a feminist rant
about men, St. Peter and St. Paul.
“You
look like one. Fabrizio del Monaco,” the
man said
extending his hand.
“Konrad
von Lintorff,” he answered as
stood up, and
the Italian was baffled at how tall he was.
“Are
you not a bit young to be doing
a doctorate?”
“Doctorate? No, I'm here for the numismatics course.
I'll try to get it right tomorrow.”
“There? It's only old guys looking at coins,” he
laughed. “An Etruscan tomb is funnier than that.”
“I like it,” Konrad answered a bit irked at the
‘hippie’ telling him what to do.
“How old are you by the way?”
“Nineteen.”
“And you work in a bank?”
“Since
a year ago. I'm an
intern. I'll start Business Administration next term.”
Fabrizio
laughed at his face and shook his red curls in a negative way, while
Konrad gaped at his lack of manners. “What's so funny?” he
growled.
“You.”
“I?”
“Let's
go for a coffee and I'll explain it
to you,”
Fabrizio said, but Konrad answered with a grunt: “I plan to visit
the mosaics here.”
“Good
idea. I also wanted to check one thing for my thesis,” Fabrizio
answered
and steered Konrad out of the room, across
the corridors and down
the stairs at a very fast pace to place him in front of the entrance
to the frescos of Villa Livia's hypogeum before he disappeared.
Sighing,
without understanding the source of this
new uneasiness he felt and with an odd feeling of sadness wrapping
around him,
Konrad returned his attention to the luscious garden depicted in the
frescos and he got lost in the many details of the
plants, flowers and birds portrayed in
them, losing
track of time.
“Move or you'll be kicked out,” the familiar voice
said, gently shaking his arm.
“What?”
“It's
closing time;
and you don't want to mess with the clerks of this place, Swiss,”
Fabrizio said with a smirk. “I owe you a coffee.”
“It's not necessary,” Konrad answered, but
something inside him screamed that a coffee would be a fantastic
idea.
“All
right. I'll buy a
Nesquik,”
Fabrizio chuckled. “Swiss enough?”
“Swiss
enough,” Konrad growled in a way the young man found certainly
charming along with his very scholastic Italian, marred with a
strange way of dragging the /r/
when he was speaking.
They
left the museum
to walk along one of the side streets off
the central
train station till they reached a small bar where Fabrizio spoke long
with the owner.
“Did
you understand it?” he
asked Konrad.
“Not a single word. What was that? Roman?”
“No,
Venetian. I'm from
Mestre and I’m
making my thesis
on
Literature
at
the University. How
about you?”
“Zurich and Business Administration.”
“What are you doing in the middle of what seems to be
your holidays inside a museum? I'm collecting points as the crone
back there might be one of my examiners.”
“I got in the wrong classroom. I asked at the
entrance, and they sent me there.”
“Of
course they did!
Nobody in his right mind goes to the ancient coins section.”
“It's an impressive collection.”
“Not
for a
nineteen-year-old,”
the other chuckled again. “I'm twenty-seven by the way.”
“I
like ancient
Roman history,”
Konrad began to defend himself but his eyes were trapped into the
green ones looking at him intensely.
“Sorry
I laughed back there, but I thought you were pulling my legs:
Swiss, working in a bank and likes coins? It sounds like a cliché.”
“I left the goats and watches at home,” Konrad
joked and returned the intense looks he was getting from the other.
'Could it be?'
“Will I see you tomorrow?” Fabrizio asked after a
long and poignant pause.
“I don't know. I hope I get the right classroom this
time.”
“Why don't we meet here? I live nearby. And you?”
“Near St. Peter's. I'm sharing a flat with my cousin
and a friend from school. Probably they're back from wherever they
were today.”
“Different agendas?”
“Very. I like history and they hate it.”
“It happens. I also like history. Tomorrow, same
time, here?”
Konrad could only nod nervously.
* * *
“Hey,
if it's not my cousin!” Albert shouted from the table where
he was sitting along with the maid and Ferdinand, eating a cold
pizza.
“Hello. Is that dinner?” Konrad asked, looking at
the remains disdainfully.
“Sure!” Ferdinand answered and attacked his own
portion as the former maid ignored Konrad and returned to kiss Albert
on the neck.
“Maria Chiara, where are my clean shirts?” Konrad
asked with a stern face.
“Tomorrow,” she pouted.
“Good. I'm going to bed now,” he announced, feeling
disgusted at the sight of the pizza, but strangely exultant and full
of energy as if the walk back home had not drained him at all.
“Hey!” Ferdinand protested. “It's my turn to use
the bedroom.”
“Speak with Albert. He's the most housebroken of us,”
Konrad smirked. “Maria Chiara, change the linens for Mr. von
Kleist.”
Albert
had great troubles to restrain
her from jumping at Konrad's neck when he turned around, yelling her
outrage at the blond boy's haughty attitude.
Alone
in his room, Konrad tried to read a little before turning in
to sleep, but it was impossible. His mind remembered each one of the
words Fabrizio had told him in that dingy café and the smiles coming
to his face were uncontrollable. 'Could it be?' the question daunted
him once more and the silly smile playing in his lips was an eloquent
answer.
'Maybe,' he thought. 'There is no other reason for a
man to ask a twerp like me for a date.'
* * *
“Where
are you going?” a sleepy Ferdinand mumbled from the couch as he
heard Konrad doing his best to escape very early in the morning.
“Out.”
“At
this hour? Shit! It's seven a.m.!” he shouted when he checked his
watch abandoned on the coffee table
the previous
night.
“I'm
having breakfast out as this lazy cow will do nothing, and then I’m
going to the
Palazzo Altemps. I'll get lunch there and go directly to my coins
lecture. Don't wait for me.”
“Albert said something about going out tonight. He
knows a good place,” Ferdinand said. “Maybe we get you a nice
girlfriend.”
“Tell Albert from my part that he should convince his
new girlfriend to do the dishes. She's been paid for that and not for
the other. Did she dust at all?” Konrad attacked his friend,
without knowing why.
“Konrad, honestly. You're not very normal,”
Ferdinand answered back.
“No,
I'm clean, something that here
seems to have
been forgotten,”
he said as he watched Ferdinand's clothes lying
discarded over the brocade armchairs. “Hope they fix you at the
Army.”
“Suit
yourself, Mary Poppins,” Ferdinand growled and turned around to
sleep again,
and Konrad was
glad that he could escape without
further probing
from his friends. For appearance's sake,
he shouted
from the
door, “See
you, Pippi Langstrumpf!”
and closed the
door quickly before the cushion hurled at him would hit him.
* * *
Konrad
felt a bit nervous when he accepted to accompany Fabrizio to his
flat. They had been talking for over three hours after their classes,
and he had
offered dinner. For Konrad, finding someone who wouldn't laugh at him
because he liked to read history and classical literature was a
blessing. The young teacher had taken two sabbatical years to finish
his doctorate.
The
flat was in the third floor of an old building, and Konrad was a bit
shocked when the first thing he saw was a cinema poster of Metello
and another of La
caduta degli dei, making
him
frown in disgust.
“Don't look so upset. I'm not saying all Germans are
Nazis,” Fabrizio said. “Did you even watch it?”
“No, I was very young when it was on theatres. My
father was very upset about it. It's a mockery of one of the oldest
families.”
“If they feel the costume suits them...” Fabrizio
said with smile. “Visconti is a great artist, and ranting about him
is your problem, not his.”
“I
wanted to see Ludwig,
but I couldn't,” Konrad confessed.
“Why not?”
“Too
young at the time of the opening,
and now it's
away,” Konrad answered shyly.
“Are you older than eighteen?”
“Eighteen and a half,” he finally confessed.
“Then,
I'll take you to the
cinematheque of a friend of mine. They're playing Visconti's German
cycle at the moment, but I must warn you, it's very long. Next week
is Fellini's Satyricon;
your father will
have a heart attack.”
“Oh,
the Satyricon
is no problem. Speaking badly
about the country's elite is,” Konrad replied with a chuckle. “Do
you like this kind of films?” he asked casually as he wanted to
avoid making
a fool of himself if Fabrizio was not attracted to him.
“Good
cinema? Yes, I think so,” the young man answered distracted as
he began to pile
books up to clear the table and a chair. “Sorry about the mess, but
I'm on my own for the next weeks.”
“Do
you share the flat?” Konrad asked as he looked at
the kitchen, living room and bedroom,
all in one room. Everything was filled with second hand books,
papers and a
typewriter. The large bed was made and covered with a colourful
orange-violet batik quilt.
“No, not really. Pasta?”
Konrad
nodded with a smile and a thank you, and thought how strange it was
that Fabrizio had not answered rightfully to any of his questions. As
his friend was busy in the
kitchenette, he
began to rummage the pile
of books to read
the titles.
“Do you like reading?” Fabrizio asked again.
“Yes, of course.”
“What do you read?”
“About history, politics and economy. Some fiction
too. I don't have much free time.”
“I thought you were in school.”
“I
just finished
‘Gynmasium’
and I worked
at a bank in the
afternoon at same time. Four
hours per day.”
“Do you live with your family?”
“I live with my father. This is the first time me and
my cousin are on our own.”
“Careful with the trash,” Fabrizio joked as he
began to cut the greens.
“The trash?”
“I
can guarantee you that a flat filled with three teenagers is going to
smell like a dumpster in less than a week. I would
know it; I
shared a flat with other students in Florence.”
Konrad
looked at him horrified and almost fainted at
hearing, “Don't
bother to organize shifts for cleaning; it never works. One cleans
and the others make it dirty.”
He became silent and a strange
shyness gripped his heart as he watched how easily the older
youth
prepared dinner. 'What am I doing here with a hippie?' his brain
shouted,
but the different shades of brown and red in Fabrizio's hair simply
took his reason away. Mesmerized, he simply watched how his
companion
finished preparing
dinner and served it. Konrad simply obeyed when he was told to sit at
the small table and drank the cheap red wine he was offered.
'He
does not even think like us!' his
‘responsible voice’ mentally
yelled when Fabrizio told him nonchalantly that he was a Trotskyist.
“No, I'm more for Adenauer and Erhard,” Konrad
answered in a blink, and the red haired boy laughed at his face.
“You have it really bad,” Fabrizio chuckled doing
his best to control his laughter before he would choke on the wine.
“Swiss, office boy in a bank, business administration student and
CDU sympathizer?”
“I
believe in progressing through
hard work,”
Konrad answered and felt like an idiot when the other looked at him
very amused.
“Come
back in ten years and tell me if you think the same. Life is not only
working hard. There are hundreds of imponderable events that will
shape your fortune. Look at me. I want to have my doctor's degree,
but I know that I will have to suck up to the last crony at the
university to
get a teaching
position. It's like a
mafia, and it
all depends on having
the right contacts and the
right people liking you.”
“It's not always like that.”
“Elites rule the world, and either we guillotine them
all or we compromise with them, and that's called corruption. Your
naïveté is typical of your age. Nevertheless, I think you're
very... interesting.”
Unable
to stand any longer the doubt corroding his soul, Konrad leaned his
body over Fabrizio's, too distracted with his speech on social
revolution, to capture his chin with his hand
and kiss him with a youthful passion. Faster than he had expected,
Fabrizio returned his kiss, lacing his arms around Konrad and
throwing him on
his back on the bed. But his victory was short-lived
as Konrad aggressively used his larger weight and frame to turn him
around and place himself over him, plundering his mouth, more and
more excited because of his partner's enthusiasm.
The
hands roaming
all over his
back were driving him madder than any other sexual experience he had
partaken in before,
and he felt in total bliss for the first time in years. He almost
missed Fabrizio's hands gently pushing him away and instinctively
clung to his neck when the young man tried to put some distance
between them.
“Enough!” he heard him saying, and Konrad stopped
and looked at him totally abashed.
“Why?” he asked sounding very hurt. “Did I do
something wrong? I thought you wanted it too.”
“Of
course I do,”
Fabrizio said and leaned his back against the wall. “It's a bit
more complicate, Konrad.”
“Do you have someone?”
“Yes,
and no. You see... Well, it's not that easy to explain.”
“Why? I do feel very attracted to you and think
you're great.”
“You're fantastic too. Almost like a dream came true,
but this won't work for many reasons.”
“Why? Are you married?”
“No! It's not that, but similar. I occasionally...
live with another man here.”
“Where is he?”
“On a business trip to somewhere or visiting his
family. I don't know, and I don't ask.”
“Do you love him?” the boy asked with despair.
Fabrizio
sighed heavily and caressed Konrad's cheek. “I wish things were
still so simple as when you
are nineteen.” He looked for the words in his mind, but couldn't
find any better way to express himself. “I appreciate him very
much,
and he has been
a great support
for me.”
Konrad
gaped, feeling totally lost. “I mean, a very good support. He helps
me financially
to pay for the doctorate.”
“Is
the University not for free?” Konrad blurted out and felt like a
dunce when the other smiled sympathetically.
“It's
not the school fees what worries me. A doctorate takes a lot of time,
and all this does not get paid by itself. If I want to finish my
thesis soon, I can't work in the meantime,
and he helps me.
We are not exclusive to each other, if you get my meaning, but he has
priority here.”
Konrad
gaped again and Fabrizio sighed, getting ready to explain the
obvious. “If he's here, you are out, is that clear?” The pain in
the youth's eyes was so visible that Fabrizio felt very ashamed.
“You're here only for the holidays. I'm very keen on you, but this
will not work at all. You're just out of school and working as an
office boy. I'm much older, have to finish my studies
and hopefully
get a position at a
university.”
“Can your family not help you?”
“My
family threw me out the minute they found out I was gay.
I was about your
age, give
or take a year.
Look, I don't want that any of us is hurt. This has no future beyond
your holidays. I don't want to lie to you, get you in my bed and be
through with you once you're not a virgin any more.”
“Do you really think I'm a virgin?” Konrad chuckled
very amused.
“With men,” Fabrizio pointed out.
“Boarding
schools are not as chaste as people believe. It
was with another roommate
when I was sixteen, and one thing led to the other, if you need to
know,” he said with sufficiency. “I never told anyone,
and people have
always believed that I like women more than men, but I don't think
that's the truth.”
“At sixteen?” Fabrizio repeated horrified without
hearing the rest of the sentence.
“He was seventeen and knew exactly what he wanted. I
see no harm done. It wasn't love or anything.” A long silence
followed and Konrad added nervously. “But I think I'm in love with
you.”
“I guess it's the same for me,” Fabrizio answered
shyly.
“I don't want to go away tonight,” Konrad said. “I
swear I'll be good.”
“I need some time before I start something with you.
We are practically two strangers.”
“Please, let me stay with you. If only to sleep.”
“What if we get it all wrong? I don't want that we
hurt each other.”
“We
won't hurt each other,”
Konrad said earnestly. “I have
never felt so much closeness to another person before. I don't know
how to explain it, but I feel I could trust you and that you won't do
anything bad to me.”
“You're
so.... I don't know... Sweet,” Fabrizio said sadly. “I really
don't want to send you away, even if it would be the best for
the two of us.”
“Then
I'll stay.” Konrad said and began to remove his shirt,
and Fabrizio
imitated him with less certainty. “I'll keep my hands to myself.”
“It's
all right. You can stay if you want.” Fabrizio rose from the bed
and organised his clothes on the chair before he took Konrad's, by
now only wearing
his underwear, and put them on top of his. A quick look at the tall
and well formed body made him feel dizzy but he ignored the feeling.
He opened the bed and with a shy move of his head, he invited Konrad
to join him.
Once
inside, Konrad's hand touched his face timidly, feeling strangely
embarrassed. “This
is the first time I sleep with somebody,” he confessed.
“I thought you had experience in this.”
“Experience,
yes. Sharing the bed for a night, no.”
“I...
need to share the bed for some nights before I do more. I'm not very
outgoing,
even if I live part-time
with another man. He's my second relationship, and the first ended
very badly.”
Recovering
some of his poise, Konrad got closer and, seeking for comfort and
warmth, embraced the other man so he could nest his head on his
chest, in a gesture Fabrizio found deeply moving.
“We can speak some more,” he suggested.
“I like speaking with you,” Fabrizio answered and
kissed Konrad again. “Even if you are so conservative that it
hurts.”
* * *
Tionne,Thank very Much
ReplyDeleteVall