Showing posts with label Fabio. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Fabio. Show all posts

Thursday, December 18, 2014

Episode 71 | Interlude 1.16





"There is someone who would like to see you, Laurent." When Carlo said this at breakfast, I knew immediately that it was Fabio. 


It was only my second visit to the farm, and somehow I felt a great difficulty making a full connection with that Laurent boy that had once visited that same house. There was a string of so many Laurents linking that boy to the current me, over the last twenty five years, that I sometimes lost their connection.





 "He is married and has two children, Laurent." Carlo told me on the morning before my reunion with Fabio.

A part of our farm had been taken to constitute the National Park. According to Carlo, Tarso had died because of this grief -- the loss of part of his ancestral lands, and not of old age, since he still was not the least sick late in life. His affliction was understandable, considering the continuous, ancestral stream of family members had been tirelessly working, since Roman ages, to acquire bit by bit what had become the D'Allegro property. Not even in the worst of times had the family sold any piece of land -- so that Tarso had been the first D'Allegro to actually diminish the size of our ancestral soils. He must have been hurt in his pride, too.

The rest of the fields left for agricultural purposes, Fabio had rented them from Carlo. He still somehow worked on our lands, but now to his own benefit.





"Do not worry, Carlo. Since our last conversation," Two years had gone by, since our reunion in Vice City, "I've decided I'm not going to sleep with married men anymore." I assured him. Because what he had just told me wasn't some trivial comment, not a mere update on a friend from the past -- but a request and a warning that I shouldn't act frivolously with Fabio. 

And it was also a recognition that, after all, Carlo had indeed noticed my intense connection with Fabio. From a distance, Carlo had watched the budding of my childish romance. And suddenly I missed that boy I had been, pure and virgin. 

Was I lying, though? What would Carlo think if he knew that Fabrizio had a fianceƩ? He was not yet technically married, but still...





"Glad to hear that, son!" Carlo smiled, tranquilized.

Some things, perhaps many things remained unspoken between my father and me. At least not very clearly said, but implied. Carlo had always been shy and discreet by nature, and not only because of Catherine's imposing and commanding presence, as I had believed. He had the soul of the D'Allegros from the mountains, quiet and restrained, minimal, accustomed to few words and just the essential emotions.





 "Nothing has ever happened between us, Carlo..." For I, after all, was a D'Allegro from the beach -- the one and only born far from the Apennines. The soft sand and clear waters that constituted me did not have the same characteristics of the hard rocks and the deep waters that made Carlo's essence, and again I was crying. "Not even a kiss..." I confessed. "No whatsoever intimate touch. Only the friendship between two boys." I had tears in my eyes, recollecting and finally being able to open up to my father about my first love, of which he was the only witness in my life.





 "It was pure and beautiful, dad," I kept trying not to sob. "I have only delicate and fond memories of when I fell in love with Fabio. And even if he hasn't fallen for me... and never even realized the adoration I had for him... He treated me with so much kindness... And respect!" I continued, "It is with these pure and sweet memories, with the heart of a child, that I will meet him today, Carlo."





But there was something else I wanted to clarify. Because I suddenly realized where Carlo, the orphan, took so much love from -- to dedicate to me. Even if he had not received it from the people with whom he had lived longest, like Tarso and Catherine.

It was in his eyes. The way he looked at me, his son. In the loving look that he lay on me. I was not only the receptacle of his love. I was the source of it. My presence -- my existence -- awoke love in Carlo, and he gave me it all. Had I reciprocated him, ever enough?





"Thank you for taking care of me at that time when I--" I gulped, unable to finish the sentence, "and realizing what was happening to me, dad..." Calling him dad again was a redemption. My throat was tight, and I could not hold back the tears, having finally realized the love Carlo manifested towards me in all his attitudes. And also in the silence from which he calmly, lovingly watched me. "And thanks for still taking care of me, now!"





Carlo and I hugged, and it was a tight, loving hug just like years ago, when we had say goodbye in Vice City. A hug that communicated love, and won over time and distance.

But strong emotions seemed to leave Carlo slightly embarrassed, and he parted from me with his innate good humor, saying, "No crying, not now, ain't it right, Laurent? You don't want to meet your first love with your makeup all smudged, do you?" Carlo laughed at his own joke, while I blushed. Even if twenty five years late, admitting my infatuation for Fabrizio was still a confession. 





My conversation with Carlo had prolonged and when I left home to meet Fabio, I was already late.

I crossed the woods and fields running -- and that was perhaps my mistake, instead of having made a nice walking meditation, getting in touch with my feelings and my expectations at each step. Awareness could have helped me over the almost twenty five years that separated one Laurent from the other -- and one Fabio from the other too, after all.





 "I'm sorry that I'm late..." I blurted as I approached Fabio, who was standing in the same fields of twenty years ago. That was one part of our property that had direct boundaries with the National Park, and so it had remained especially preserved -- in my recollections, too.

"No problem, Laurent." I did not remember him calling me by my name before. "I don't even have a watch!" Fabio laughed, as if requesting me to relax... And I realized how I was again the stressed city boy who had come to the mountains, always in a hurry, and afraid -- even if it was only afraid of being late.





And full of expectations, full of prejudice.

Looking at Fabio, I was shocked. Was this the man I had fallen in love with? Had this been my first experience with the rapture of male beauty?

The years hadn't passed in the same way for us, I thought. I tried not to show my shock and surprise -- mostly, my disappointment -- and faked a smile as I politely listened to Fabio telling me about his life.

He had aged badly. He was bald, and the body that once was strong and muscular had grown fat and limp. His rustic aspect, that in other times had added charm and character to his presence, now denounced neglect and constant hardship. 





"Carlo told me that you set up an association of regional landowners, to make them aware of the value and importance of preserving the National Park..." I tried to find a subject in common with Fabio, because I felt that our conversations and interests of yore had also vanished with his beauty. At least, since then, I had studied a bit of Italian -- aiming the visit I would pay Carlo, but having Fabrizio in the back of my mind -- and we could properly communicate.

"Oh yes! We even have a private fire brigade to help the rangers, now..." Fabio told me how, twenty years ago, he had been one of the few voices among the natives of the mountains to speak in favor of the National Park. But he had gradually convinced more people, though never Tarso, who had ended up as his enemy. "Your great-grandfather loved these lands too much, and he was very attached to them..." He did not say it as a criticism, but with compassion.





 "That's wonderful, Fabio!" I suddenly realized my own blindness. I recalled how Fabio had never cared about his beauty, and how his muscular body was no more than a working tool for him. Hearing the excitement with which he spoke about the preservation works, and watching the sparkle in his eyes, of a bright green like the pines around us, just like I remembered it, I finally realized that the beauty of the mountains all around us was Fabio's very beauty. Wrinkles and sun blotches did not make him ugly -- for the beauty of those preserved mountains made  him a wonderful man, and his work so valuable. "I always knew you would do great things, Fabio!" And again I saw myself praising my first love, with the same sincere adoration, but no longer with any desire. I tried to avoid sighing.





 "Just imagine it..." Fabio seemed embarrassed. "I knew I'd meet you today and I started recalling... that I wanted to study in town, but ended up just doing a technical course by correspondence. I never left these mountains. Here I met my wife, and we had two children... a boy who is now in college in Turin, and a girl who lives with her aunt in the city, in order to get a proper education. At least my kids will have a future better than mine, with their studies." I remembered the love Fabio demonstrated for education. "I ended up staying here..." Fabio seemed discouraged. "Unlike you, Laurent. I know from your father about your travels around the world, and your exhibitions... Each one shall follow his own destiny, and if it is large or narrow, it is already fate from the beginning..."





 "You cannot believe this..." I made a gesture with my hands that encompassed the entire majestic landscape of the mountain range around us, "... is narrow!?! Carlo spoke to me about your work with sincere admiration, Fabio! He greatly admires and respects you... and so do I...  since... ever! You had and you still have my... admiration." It had been easier to praise him when I was a child, naively stating my adoration. "I recall everything we shared... with... love... I have learned so much from you. Thank you very much indeed, Fabio. You have changed my life..."





"No, I thank you!" Fabio's embarrassment peaked. And indeed it was a strange feeling that, after having been so close for several weeks, we had never seen nor spoken in ages. I wish I had heard news from him, but through whom, since Carlo was gone? "Nobody had ever listened to me before like you did, Laurent. Your... love... gave me the strength to fight for a slightly better life than I had been destined to, my friend..."

And that was the closest we came to a confession about our youthful love, when he said the word "amore". For a moment, I thought perhaps Fabio hadn't been so oblivious of my adoration and attraction to him. Had he noticed my eyes seeking for his muscles and his bulge, always eagerly devouring his figure? Had he actually understood what I longed for when I constantly praised his beauty and tried to touch his body? But whichever his perception of my love and desire had been, when he could have abused me, he had instead handled it with so much care, perfectly appropriate towards a twelve years old intoxicated kid. 





"Can I give you a hug, Fabio?"

You know, I'm that kind of inconvenient person that likes to hug others. And I am aware that it embarrasses some people. But I cannot help it, when I feel real affectionate. 

I had parted from Fabio with a giddy embrace, and twenty five years later, in a rather different state, it was lovely to be in his arms again.





During my second visit to the Apennines, I was to meet Fabio again a couple more times. He shared how discouraged he was by the uncontrolled growth of the region. Many farms had become country homes to the wealthy and not always scrupulous people, that had no love for Nature. They arrived in helicopters and roamed the mountains in fast cars, often trampling animals.

Worst of all, which at that moment was Fabio's private war -- he was even trying to submit very strict protection policies --, were the farms being allotted to become condos with several houses, with a harmful impact on the ecosystem of the region, especially on the water resources.





From humble origins and upbringing, despite a hard working and time consuming routine, through a greater understanding of his mission and participation in the matters of his native mountains, until becoming a much respected regional leader, I believe Fabio was one of the noblest persons I have ever met. Despite his apparent simplicity and humility, I think of him as a prince of the fields. With a different kind of wealth.

And it was from his combat against real estate speculation that Fabio fell victim.





"I had donated a painting for a benefit auction in aid of the preservation association founded by Fabio. But before the appointed day, Carlo called to inform that Fabio had suffered a car accident in the mountains. A truck had thrown his car off the road, and then simply fled. It was never proven, but Carlo believes that Fabio was killed because of his opposition to the speculation with lands in the region."

"Fabio died?" Fabrizio asked, his voice shivering with shock. Surprisingly, he had tears in his eyes.





"Yes. And now, it's Carlo who pays for the college of Fabio's daughter. Fabio never got to see her get into college... Neither his son graduating..." I sighed. I had already cried a lot on Fabio's unjust death. "And despite hating to leave the farm, Carlo was keen to go to Turin for Fabio's son graduation..."

"Oh, my God!" Fabrizio groaned. "Laurent love, how sad... I don't recall you mentioning Fabio during my visit to the Apennines..."





Fabrizio and I had been sharing the same armchair as he listened to my retelling of my second visit to the Apennines. But I grew impatient with the overwhelming power of my own emotions, and slipped to the floor. Fabrizio himself was overtaken by emotions, and I felt myself suffocating from too much past. Sitting at his feet, I resumed.

 "Of course not!" It was a bit annoying that Fabrizio seemed to want to read me like an open book, while there were things I was still afraid to share with him... and everybody else. "But it was so important to reunite with my first love... At least I had that chance, before he died. To see clearly Fabio's true beauty, beyond his superficial good looks that had attracted me so much in my youth... I reconnected with that pure and lovely feeling, and then... You and I... reunited, too, on those same mountains." I tried to deliver a smile, recalling my days of Fabio and Fabrizio in the Apennines. As much as those names had been a plain coincidence in my life, the few letters and the decades that separated the love I had felt for both were very symbolic of the man I had become, and the strenuous path that had led me from Fabio to Fabrizio.





Fabrizio reached for me, and caressed my face. "I wish I had a love like that in my early teens to recollect. But all I got was... nothing." Maybe Fabrizio would have mentioned his former roommate Helmut, but he avoided talking about him just like I was not talking about Angelo either. "It's a truly beautiful story, that of how your heart awakened, Laurent... Too bad it ends like this for Fabio." Fabrizio made a pause, just to allow me the time to leave my past and reconnect with him in our Icelandic home. "My first love..." He sighed, and I thought Fabrizio was going to make a confession, "...took long to arrive in my life." He left the chair to lean over me. "But now that he is here, I will not let him go, not ever again!"





Fabrizio planted a delicate kiss on my forehead, full of love and respect, and then another chaste one on my lips. Purposely devoid of passion, I felt he was trying to kiss my soul. And with so much tenderness and reverence, he certainly touched it.

"What did I do to deserve you, Fabrizio?" I could not help but express my wonder aloud, looking at his tremendous beauty towering over me. From Fabio to Fabrizio, it had been one uninterrupted stream of rapture with male beauty, and as if a circle was closing, I was finally able to recapture that purity of the love devoted to Fabio in my feelings for Fabrizio. "What did I do..."





"Everything, Laurent! Every detail you tell me about your life... How your parents met. Carlo's frustrated love for your uncle. Your ideal childhood in Punaouilo. The bullying you suffered at school in France. And now, this love so pure that you experienced for Fabio. In comparison, it seems that I have not lived, being protected in a capsule. Everything was so neat and tidy and predictable in my life... Until you!" Again, Fabrizio paused, and gently caressed my face. His blue eyes overflowed with the true love I had always searched for.  "But when I was with Carlo and you in the Apennines, I could never have imagined that you had been separated for so long. You are so close, for a father and son. Much closer than my father and I have ever been, though we lived in peace... or perhaps it was just a state of languor and insincerity... until just the other day..." Fabrizio's voice broke when he mentioned his family. "And how Carlo welcomed me--"





I realized that Fabrizio, once again, did not want to talk about himself, averting the issues with his family. In Iceland, he wanted to take vacation from everything -- except me.

At first, I had been a bit frightened by the force with which Fabrizio had promoted changes in his life. I felt guilty, sensing that I was responsible for the feelings I had triggered in him.





But Fabrizio had changed his life not for me -- ultimately, for himself.


*****





 "Laurent!" My name reverberated across the lawn and against the stone walls of our ancient house.

Having dozed under the sun, I hadn't heard Fabrizio's car speed up the mountain, not even in the final curve before arriving at our house. Unlike Carlo, who had identified the sound of a Lamborghini and came to greet Fabrizio at the door, his curiosity aroused by the fancy car approaching. But rather than inviting Fabrizio into the house, Carlo had directed him to the lawn in the backyard, where I liked to sunbathe and read during the mornings.

"Laurent!" I felt my heart swell as I woke up, when I heard my name in a shout. And I knew it was him.






"Fabrizio..." I whispered. It was like waking from sleep into a dream, when I saw Fabrizio running towards me. His beauty always caused me a commotion, and to see him actually appear on my family's ancestral lands, I don't know... I wanted to believe in destiny, after all.





There was a brief moment of embarrassment when we faced each other. 

We both blushed, when we looked into each other's eyes. It had been a while since we last saw each other. But it hadn't been so long since we had first met.

I was completely in love, and did not want to fight that feeling anymore.




Wednesday, December 17, 2014

Episode 69 | Interlude 1.14





I was so intoxicated with Fabio that I did not realize how increasingly serious the conversations between my great-grandfather and my father were. I was used to Carlo and Catherine quarreling, lately often with screams that made me so fearful, so that these men's low, tense voices seemed not so threatening to me.


Preparing myself with days in advance, I even proposed my plan of taking Fabio to France, where he could focus on his academic studies as he wished. I have to say my proposal was not completely altruistic, since I could also imagine him with me at school, protecting me from the older boys.





"Ma che cose senza senso!" Nonsense! "Ma che assurditĆ !" Tarso had exploded. "It's just what I needed! The government taking away my ancestral land..." A National Park was in the process of being constituted, and Tarso was going to lose part of his properties, "and now I'm also to lose my employee!"






Since we had arrived, Carlo had been burdened with a lot of paperwork that he did not like to deal with, but that Tarso himself was totally unable to take care of. And besides all the personal problems that Carlo had in France, of which I knew nothing, my great-grandfather had added one more -- he insisted that my father should force Catherine to move to the Apennines, where we would all take charge of the family's farm. My great-grandfather was increasingly concerned about the fate of his property, as he grew older, and that National Park was threatening him. 

And he had never been able to forgive Carlo's defection.

"It's time that the D'Allegros return to where they belong!" Tarso spoke fiercely.I realized he had included both my father and me in his reprimand, for we were the only D'Allegros that were out of place.






But if at the time I did not realize how serious Carlo's problems were -- and the slightest of them was Tarso's will and wrath . While my father -- I'm inclined to believe, nowadays --, though I thought he had forgotten about me, had already realized my feelings for Fabio. Even before I did. 






Though not to ancient Via Flaminia -- I now considered it too far away, once I did not wish to leave the farm and Fabio's proximity, Carlo took me on a tour to the mountains. Just the two of us, like it had been when we first arrived at the farm. Since then, Carlo had gravitated into my great-grandfather's orbit, to the amount of governmental paperwork which Tarso was unable to deal with, and I had spent all the possible time with Fabio -- so that my father and I had actually enjoyed very few moments together in our ancestral lands. It seemed like he had met his fate in the family, and while I had found my destiny, our routes had taken us briefly apart. But we did not want to part from one another, and the reunion on a day's excursion was welcomed from both sides.

On that tour, we were able to again strengthen our affection. Especially when Carlo told me for the first time that story -- he'd return to it at the Nirvana Lounge -- about the albino baby chamois that had been rejected by his mother, and that he had tried to save without success.





"Did he die, dad?" I whined. I was moved to tears when I heard his narration on the struggle of the baby to survive, and on Carlo's struggle to try to help the baby, which nevertheless had been too scared to let my father approach him. "But even if he had no mother, couldn't his father have helped him?" was my next question. It was as if the albino baby chamoix had reincarnated in me, with all its painstaking helplessness. And... hadn't it? 

Aware of my emotional state, Carlo carefully explained to me that, in nature, such a baby could only be fed by its mother. And often males were hunted and killed on those mountains, so that the baby might have had no father. It was a very sad story that had marked Carlo's childhood, addressing his own orphanage. And at twelve, I identified with the little animal in my own struggles of acceptance and affection relating to Catherine. Would she have rejected me if I had been born albino -- because, with my white hair, I suddenly saw myself on the verge of understanding my mother's difficulties in liking me. 





"But you, my son," Carlo embraced me, "you have a father. And I'm here for you. I will not reject you for anything in this world. I will always be there for you, Laurent." A vow he would not be able to keep -- or at least break it, sooner than expected, and for twenty years.

Carlo did not speak openly about the love that I was experiencing for Fabio, but remembering that statement from him -- that, later when he abandoned us, would torture me like a deceitful promise --, I could tell that he was declaring his unconditional love and acceptance for me, even if I was to love other boys.






Perhaps my great-grandfather had noticed it too, or at least had sensed it, for he decided to send Fabio to the highlands, to prepare a shack that they used in winter. My adored friend would go and stay there doing repairs, and be absent from the farm until after our departure.





I was shocked to hear the news of his leaving. But to compensate my shock, and the sadness that he also felt, including his abbreviated studies, Fabio had taken a day of his vacations -- he was abdicating from a free day and from earning regular money -- so that we could go together to the lake at the bottom of the valley. My great-grandfather did not oppose to that, neither did Carlo. 

I immediately realized that, as much as it was our farewell, it was also my last chance to have something with him -- at twelve, that 'something' was not quite clear to me. A stolen kiss? Sex? When I had just started experimenting with masturbation, what could sex have meant to me? I guess I simply wanted Fabio to take me in his arms and confirm that there was nothing wrong with the love that I was feeling for him. Maybe, even, reciprocate that love, blessing me with his acceptance for the rest of my life. 





It was the most beautiful excursion that Fabio and I did together. We strolled down through fragrant woods, and I tried to concentrate on walking and following Fabio without tripping, though it was very hard -- he was wearing his worn Army shorts and t-shirt, and I could not avoid but marvel at his muscular body. I was not planning to have another accident -- he would surely carry me back home, and no matter how much I longed to be in his arms, taking him away from the adults presence seemed essential to get from him what I wanted -- that undefined 'something'.  The trail ran along crystal clear streams, to dramatically arrive and emerge near the noisy waterfall that rushed from the icy heights, bringing the defrost water and helping to make the lake down the valley exquisitely beautiful and cold.






I was happy, even elated -- but sometimes I also felt sad, remembering that it would be our last day together. Or was it because I had many expectations -- we are as far from my great-grandfather's house as we had ever gone, and it was for the eternity of an entire day.

I had also been eagerly waiting for another chance to see him naked. Knowing it would be the last time, and perhaps predicting the visual artist I would later become, I wanted to have one last look on him in all his revealed splendor, to keep it before the eye of my mind in all its glory, down to the anatomic details. It's true that, back then when I was not yet painting, his vision was meant just to fuel my masturbatory fantasies.

But when we were down to our swimming trunks only, I realized how embarrassing it would be trying to hide my almost perennial erection from my friend, who was inadvertently causing it.






At first I felt awfully shy, and decided I would not go into the water, with the excuse that it was too cold. 

I sat on a stone, legs crossed, hiding the bulge that tortured and pleased me at the same time. The copious leaking that left a sticky stain on my trunks was not just embarrassing -- I was confused at its causes, but it was addicting pleasurable that I had abandoned the idea of being sick somehow. It couldn't be anything bad, I sensed, when I felt inclined to continually touch my organ through the cloth to make it leak some more. But I did experience some guilt, and it was like being back at school, afraid that my eyes longing for Fabio's beautiful naked body would denounce me -- and further humiliation and rejection would follow.






It was a very familiar darkness, that of fear and rejection. So familiar, that it had suddenly returned to take over and fill my heart, after so many days of luminous happiness in the company of my friend. 

And under that radiant sun, on a clear day, I found myself deeply immersed and helplessly trapped in my inner darkness again. Even my erection subsided, and stopped leaking, though Fabio had come out of the water and was now jumping close at the shore of the lake, to warm himself a little bit, but also to cheer me up and convince me to venture into the lake with him.





Fabio insisted that I should jump with him in the water. 

"It is not cold!", he shouted at me, though it was very cold indeed. "And it's not so deep!" Although my father had made ​​me promise to be very careful. 

But Fabio was not ready to so easily settle with my inner negativity, which would have spoiled all the joy of our tour -- and that actually was not my true will, not to mention my deepest desire.





Since I kept denying, while having miserably shrunk into myself, for the first time Fabio's strength felt threatening  to me -- when he walked toward me, his tremendous beauty turned mainly into muscles and power, and he just grabbed me and carried me into the water. Acting just like the school bullies did, tugging me to whatever corner, whenever they had wanted. Between fright and consternation, I offered no resistance to his will. For a moment, I felt like crying with rage. I had come that far, fooling myself about having a first friend -- first love? -- to see things happen exactly like they had in school. I was... being bullied again! Only that this time it was worse, for I was being bullied by my best friend, the only one I had so far trusted!






So sad, really, and I felt defeated. I just lay on Fabio's shoulder like a limp cloth, without reaction, accepting that my fate to be bullied. I felt negligible and contemptible, to my worst. I decided to hold back the tears because of that shame that was so familiar to me, that even my emotions should be mocked because they sounded effeminate.  And I was feeling ashamed, fearing that he might have noticed my erection brushing against his chest. Against fear, my body had found that bewildering reaction. Humiliated, I tried to hide my emotions from Fabio, and I made an effort to bury them deep within.

 And in this process of burying my emotions, lost in the confusion of my impulsive bodily functions, I was surprised to have an insight that, even today, I think was quite deep for a twelve years old boy.

I realized that Fabio was not disrespecting my desire nor my will, but actually simply forcing me to accomplish them.






The moment we hit the water, I thought and immediately understood -- if he hadn't grabbed me and carried me without my consent, all along joyfully laughing as he had done it, all the time being no less than extremely gentle with me --, perhaps... I would have remained at the margin. Forever. Just like I had always done, throughout my life in Europe, huddled and fearful, sad and unhappy. Trapped in the corner of my own loneliness, while actually dreaming about being back in his arms.





That day, Fabio forced me to be happy. To happily spend a day of freedom and joy, of laughter and excitement in his company -- and that attitude would have profound echoes for the rest of my life.






Often, from then on, when I realized I was sabotaging myself, giving up on my own happiness -- or self-imposing difficulties and creating obstacles to it --, it was enough to remind myself of Fabio carrying me in his muscular arms. my face had been so close to his face that I could have kissed him. With his strength he had overcome my own resistance -- and I just had to decide to carry myself towards my own happiness, in my own muscular arms. 

I would be my own Fabio to myself!






I am so grateful to Fabio for so many things that I have overcome at different moments in my life by having known him!






And today I think, despite my frustration at the time, it was actually wonderful that he never touched me and did the things that I wanted him so badly to do -- and that I did not exactly know what they were, either romantic or sexual . Because the memory I have of him remains pure and delicate, like a very special and unique friend, and an ideal love.

But there would be one more thing to be thankful to him, yet.






When later in the afternoon we returned to my great-grandfather's house, Fabio was still impressed and had been so enthusiastic with the fact that I had won every swimming race. I not only swam better than him, but also much faster, even being weaker and smaller. And from the whole day that we had spent together, it was my swimming ability that he bragged the more about. He was elated.

"He is a true champion!", he had cheerfully announced to Carlo and Tarso. 

Carlo, who had taught me himself how to swim in Punaouilo, was not so surprised to hear of my prodigious breath, and despite not having seen me swim in a long time,  realized that having become taller with long arms, I had also become faster.






"I'll look into that..." Carlo had promised Fabio. 

And indeed, upon our return to France, my father would put me on the swim team at the country club, and set to build a pool at home -- his last gift for me, before he left.


*****





Our parting shortened by at least two weeks, Fabio was gone before me, leaving me alone on the farm.





The farm that I could not love, as my great-grandfather had wanted it to happen. Maybe if Tarso had been a little nicer, less silent, less strict, it might have helped me liking the family farm -- through him. But he had obliged me to do too many things I did not want to -- like working in the fields, that turned out being so lovely in the end --, and do things his way -- and Carlo invoked on my patience for obeying my great-grandfather while we were at his place --, always looking at me suspiciously or condescendingly, as I perceived it, which made me feel so inapt -- which I truly was, regarding the rural life. 

 But it had been on the family's ancestral lands where I had felt love -- and loved -- for the first time; it had been our family's farm to teach me what love was.

I did not love the farm, but I was grateful to it.





I had never cried so much in my life, not even when we left Punaouilo.

The majestic, dramatic landscape of the Italian mountains seemed so desolate and pointless, now that Fabio was gone, making me fell so lost and small.






My great-grandfather got mad at me.

"The D'Allegros are strong, boy!" He punched me on the shoulder, but not friendly like the other times. He actually hit me hard, and the shock made me stop crying. "We are resistant. We are persistent. We have a center, we have a story, we have a place!" I was trembling, afraid of him. Neither Carlo nor Catherine had ever beaten me. "A D'Allegro is never shaken! Stop crying now, bambino! Have you ever seen a rock cry? We are made of rock!"





I was embarrassed. For I knew I was made of sand, the fine and clear sands of Punaouilo, that any breeze took on a fanciful flight. I was smooth and soft too, and now that Fabio had been able to respect and admire me exactly the way I was, I could acknowledge it without feeling any shame. 

I was not made of rock. But then, if I had to pretend to be made ​​of rock to be able to live among other rocks, I would do it. Now I knew how rocks looked like, and how they were supposed to be.






Tarso's rude speech-- and specially that punch -- had reminded me of the school's hard reality to which I was returning. He was making me feel like a defective D'Allegro. If it hadn't been for the presence of Carlo, my sweet and submissive father, I would still be in disbelief that I was a D'Allegro. Or that I could be a true, rocky D'Allegro.

I would learn how to lie about my way of being, and how to pretend to appear having been made ​​of rock. Inscrutable, resistant, hermetically sealed. I had observed and experienced the mountains and I had learned exactly how to do it. Secretly, however, my kernel would still be sand, soft, so soft, sweet, tender, gentle -- but only in my heart, and away from all those eyes that could not accept or love me like I was.


*****




"I did not need to be strong, I just had to look strong. I could never be rough and rude like the other boys, but I could pretend I was like them. Perhaps, I thought, among the other boys there were others who also had to hide their weaknesses and suffering, showing off a strength and aggressiveness that they did not truly have, just to survive at school. That's what I discovered. The power and safety of the masquerade for the weak." 

I had never told anyone about that rite of passage from my childhood to adolescence with so many details, like I just had to Fabrizio. I had spent a whole afternoon talking to him. But before him, no one had demonstrated genuine interest in me. And our Icelandic, secluded house, quietly immersed in a vast desolate landscape, had brought us closer together.





"You had this insight at what age, Laurent?", he had asked, demonstrating that he was not yet bored from listening to me.

"It was during this summer I've been telling you about, my dear. The year of 1987. Until then, the only male figure that I had known so close was my father, Carlo. So sensitive, so intuitive, with all his doubts, conflicts and wounds, showing his fragility like other men won't. But at the family's farm I discovered my great-grandfather's strength, who would lead me away from my own passivity and fear, and Fabio's beauty, who awakened my desire and would launch me, almost catapult me into life. As well as his love and acceptance, which would be grounding for my self-acceptance."






 "This is quite an insight for a twelve years old boy..." Fabrizio pondered.

"It's like I have said. I stopped being a boy on my great-grandfather's farm. On the D'Allegro lands, our ancestral lands. 'We will make you a man.' At first, Tarso's words had sounded so threatening, but at last it confirmed to be so true! Tarso might have been disappointed in me, but the fact is that he truly succeeded. The Laurent boy stayed behind on those mountains, and it was the beginnings of a man who emerged from those mountains, and returned to France."






This man that arrived at your life, Fabrizio. And who loves you, with the courage and the will to face all he must to stay with you, I thought, but I did not say it.

From Fabio to Fabrizio, it was just a question of a few letters -- but between one love and another, so many men, so much delusion and pleasure, so much suffering, and decades of struggle for self-acceptance.





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.