Episode 19 | A turmoil of feelings

previous episode

nudity and sex

And immediately I mouthed, "I love you too, Armand."

 Because it was true. Armand was my best friend, like a brother to me; he had always been my greatest supporter, and what I felt towards him was stronger than the fearful respect and the due gratefulness I had always felt towards my grandfather, who'd brought me up. Little did I remember about my parents, and what I felt towards them was a longing mingled with a curiosity of what could have been if they hadn't died when I was a child. I didn't know much about love, but what I felt towards Armand was certainly my deepest and longest experience of... love.

"Mon cher Carlo... Thank you. But maybe we are talking about different feelings here..." Armand was apparently calm, but his heavy breathing denounced otherwise. I realized he had started sweating, tiny drops glistening over his mouth and on the hair on his chest and arms, though the evening was cool. I could only guess the effort involved in such a heartfelt confession. "I can say I loved Irene too, just like you are now saying you love me." He smiled sweetly, as if kindly correcting a child's mistake. "She was a lovely girl whom I admired and respected, whose company I truly enjoyed. But it was with her brother that I fell in love with..." Armand took another deep breath. "I am in love with you, Carlo."

"I guess I've always been in love with you, Carlo." Armand continued in a hurry, not allowing me time to react nor respond. "It was love at first sight. It has survived my own internal struggles, my doubts, my fears. And all the rejection and guilt I have cultivated during these five years, almost six now, that we have known each other. I didn't know my feeling for you was so strong until I saw you again a few days ago, at the port! Now that I'm not burdened with my own prejudice, I could see it so distinctly... My love for you. Pure and sincere as it is, it has carried me through the years, bringing me faith and hope where there would only have been suffering and instability. But to express it clearly in words, like I'm doing now..." Armand used again his breathing technique to find the courage to continue. "Honestly, I still don't know if I am capable of doing it, or if I should be doing it, Carlo..."

"I've experienced a turmoil of feelings since you've arrived, mon ami. And I know you've been sensing it. And I'm aware it has hindered our communication..." Armand glanced at me, expectantly, like he had just before I had told him about the apparition. And I started to understand where his frustration about my 'confession' came from. "You know, I've been sitting by your side all this time, secretly wishing you were in my arms... actually, more like I was in your arms..." He smiled as he blushed. "And then, over and over I've been feeling aggravated, and I reacted in ways you probably didn't quite well understand, even if I was trying to hide my frustration. Yes, there has been tension and discomfort these past few days, and I apologize for that."

"I've been questioning myself since your arrival, from the moment I laid eyes on you and love started revolving in me... How can it be love, when it could destroy friendship? How can it be nurturing, when it makes me discontent, longing for more than I've always had, that has always been so satisfying before? I was always happy in your presence, but suddenly... I found myself desiring more. Why can't I be content anymore... with sharing all meals, all moments, all day long, like it has always been, in Paris? When I'm standing close to you... I'm willing to hold you, or to be held by you, to be nestled in your strong arms." Armand seemed to tremble. "And I've lived in fear, these past days... Fearing you'd sense my desires and reject me, fearing I'd never find the courage to tell you, and if I ever did... Right now... I am still fearing... your reaction.... Your rejection."

And my reaction was springing up to my feet.

 It had been overwhelming, to suddenly regard myself as the depositary of such an immense, long lasting love. Too much and too intense in just one gush of words evoking feelings, emotions, expectations. I suddenly felt like I was suffocating in that corner of the house, too close to Armand and to his bedroom. Trapped in that corner of the world, and submitted to a treacherous test. And I considered walking away, going down to the beach, back to my easel and painting the night away.

Startled, Armand sprang to his feet as well, and we bumped our heads. It was funny, and for a moment we laughed. But it was also embarrassing, when we stood with just a few inches separating our bodies, yet already joined in the heat and tension that emanated from them. For the first time to me, our physical proximity, that had always played an important role in our brotherhood, felt disconcerting. I was a new discomfort, and quite acute. Because now, I knew Armand was longing for more than just embracing or cuddling with me.

"I have to go to bed." I mumbled. I suddenly felt so tired, drained of energy, with no courage nor any discernment left.

"You mean... you want to go to bed with me?" Armand giggled, as he brushed his sweaty forearm against the muscles of my abdomen. And a gesture that before would have been left unnoticed was now an invasion, when it sent shivers up and down my spine, that I felt as deep as into my bowels. I felt invaded by his musky, masculine smell, too, that somehow was another declaration of his lust. "Do you want to try it, mon cher Carlo?" 

Having for days believed my friend was crying over his dying mother, over his disintegrating family, over some mysterious disease he might have acquired in Asia, I was now starting to realize my own responsibility in Armand's recent -- and past -- suffering.

Now I could not fool myself anymore. Just like he wasn't fooling himself anymore, nor was he deceiving me any longer. His love, and lust, were open and on offer. And so weren't I to deceive nor fool him anymore. His presence and proximity demanded a response.

Falling silent, Carlo once again concentrated on eating his food, that by now must have been cold. His eyes were vague, his gaze distant, and I realized he was absorbed by the past, lost somewhere in the Indian Ocean -- and it was as if he had again abandoned me, this time at the restaurant, to be once more in Armand's company. 

And wasn't that the same reason why he had left home twenty years ago?, I now wondered.

I was feeling a bit calmer and contented, since the story had now started making sense to me. I was thrilled with the possibility that my father had had a male lover in the past. It seemed so... redeeming to me!

Yet, I observed my mind as it was running fast, and jumping at conclusions as I envisioned one justifiable hypothesis after the other. When had all that happened, exactly? Carlo had said some 30 to 40 years ago -- that was typical of him, his inexactitude with time.  Since I was 33 years old, his affair with Armand -- if there had been an affair -- could not have lasted long, because he must have met Catherine shortly after that. It felt like I was being told a major secret, something that turned the 'Hermit of the Brushes', a nickname given to Carlo by the art critics, into an improbable Don Juan... That was rather unexpected -- I never thought I'd be thrilled about my own father's love life!

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Author's note: having been imported from a former version of the story, some of the comments below are dated previous to this post. Once the plot has not been altered, just the pagination, I am keeping them since they are very dear and precious to me.