Wednesday, August 7, 2013

chapter Five, continued

to read from the FIRST CHAPTER








EPISODE 10





As we finished eating dinner, Gabriel came to us recommending we got back to the lounge for sunset:

'It is magnificent!' -- the handsome barman seemed truly enthusiastic -- 'And I'll bring you new drinks. What can I offer you, gentlemen?'

But Carlo didn't seem to care about the sunset in Vice City as much as he had cared about the sunset on the Île du Blanchomme. He sat with his back turned to the sea and the sun, his eyes on me but actually turned to the past.



I was disappointed. 

I felt Carlo was not being totally frank and honest with me, and rather dubious about his relationship with Armand. I could hardly believe such a strong love would have remained platonic. Two young men on a deserted island with no one to hold them back? Maybe for his generation it must have been harder to act physical? Shouldn't it have been the opposite, in an era prior to AIDS? And wasn't it free love in the seventies? 

Nevertheless, it was a simple question I was asking him: have you done it with your best friend or not; with the simplest of answers, yes or no. No need for maybes, I thought, but I could understand he was being reserved, and perhaps out of respect for Armand.

At least I thought I had understood...



Nonetheless, I had learned more about my father in a few hours than I had in thirteen years of living together, and another twenty of questioning my mother. 

The question why he had left home remained, though. He had been a dutiful father all those years. Upon our moving to France, he had taken to himself buying food and cooking, since Catherine did not want to engage in any homely duties. His atelier had always been open to me, and I knew I was welcome even when he was busy, painting. I had learned to remain silent and just enjoy my father's presence -- which was a bit different from my mother, who'd spend most of her days typing her novels and did not allow me to interrupt her -- even my presence seemed to disturb her when she was writing.

I then had to think -- if Carlo had been so understanding to his best friend's coming out, why miss his own son's? I was now more confused, and hurt.




But since he had started, Carlo just wanted to continue with his own story. He didn't wait for our drinks to arrive, nor for the sun to set over Vice City. He was back on the Île du Blanchomme, about to live his last day with Armand still on the island.

'The next morning...' -- he went on, with all his heart in his narrative -- 'Armand's last entire day on the island, we woke up together while it was still dark, ready for our private celebration.'



As we got down to the beach, we were just in time to see the moon set. I asked Armand, who had been my first and only master so far in meditation, to guide that session. He knew beautiful prayers and chants, made lovelier by his beautiful, smooth voice. I guess he chanted in Sanskrit, or might have been Pali. And suddenly I heard him start praying...



Lord, be with us this day.
Within us to purify us;
Above us to draw us up;
Beneath us to sustain us;
Before us to lead us;
Behind us to restrain us;
around us to protect us.
Lord, be with us today.

I had to dry my cheeks and neck at the end of that session. Lord... as Armand spoke the word I had shivered... I didn't know my friend had become a believer. The question was... in which religion?



That day was so special. We were finally able to cherish each other's presences, without barriers, without tension, without frustration.

The ocean, so blue and welcoming, seemed to be holy water embracing us.



And we must have been baptized that morning -- Renato and Renato. Which was which, the French and the Italian, the rich and the poor, blonde or dark haired, with green or brown eyes?... How could we still be separated entities  after all those years sharing Yeats and Rilke, Kurosawa and Fellini, blankets and sausages... His voice was in my ears, my voice in his ears, even when we were silent. I spoke about the wind and the mountains through his mouth, he spoke through mine about... art, music, literature, cinema, architecture and so many other things I'd learned from him. How could we have been, existed, persisted, without one another?



The food -- the food in his company turned into a blessing. A proof of love and wisdom -- how, for thousands of years, mankind had learned and transmitted skills and knowledge, generation after generation, enabling our survival as a species. And eating was worshiping the Wisdom of Memory, that linked us to all mankind, day after day across the centuries -- recipes, ingredients, pots... Fire. There was so much work and knowledge in a single metal plate that it could be seen as a miracle... in my friend's company, and through his wise eyes.



We existed -- insisted, persisted -- because the sun existed. And until the day we'd perish -- who has said "without Love we perish"?... Love being the Sun, the water, the air, the parents, the teachers... --, there would always be a gentle breeze caressing our skins, healing our wounds.



No coming, no going. 
The sun, and the moon, taking turns in the sky. 
Ships passing by, sailing away, returning.



The last sunset.

There had been a last sunset before for us, in Paris, on the last day at the École des Beaux-Arts, and this one now was teaching us that, unless one of us failed to be there for another sunset, there would not be such a thing as a last sunset. 

Not yet.




And the reassuring spectacle of the moon... All over the world, it would be the same moon for him and for me, everyday, as a mindful symbol of our interexistence.



'You have changed my existence, Armand de Montbelle, do you know that?'   -- I had been rehearsing a sort of love declaration, and I tried it under the stars -- 'Entirely! With your generosity, your kindness, your wisdom, you have changed what should have been five years of struggle into five years of steady growth, a continuous wonder! And finally, you have saved my life. And you have given me a new life in this very life, a rebirth, with your invitation for this island, this paradise you've shared with me. And through your courage, you have aroused... given birth... to my heart.'



'My grandfather taught me a song he learned during the war, when he was made a prisoner. I'm not going to sing it because it would be such a disaster, the sky and the stars could tumble and fall at the shriek of my singing, but I want to part with these words of blessing.'


May the road rise up to meet you,
may the wind be always at your back,
may the sun shine warm upon your face,
and the rain fall soft upon your fields,
and until we meet again,

May God hold you in the palm of His hand.




But who had said we wanted to part, to put an end to that evening?




I had always been a loner. I had envisioned my future alone, painting day and night in an atelier of my own, all on my own. No wife, no family, no pets.



But Armand's invitation to that deserted island, followed by his love declaration, had changed perspectives. For the first time I was considering how lovely and fulfilling it could be to share a life with someone, the same someone I had already been sharing it for the last five years. And I felt immensely sad thinking about my friend's absence, more than content to be left alone. 

Something had changed within me.



Not willing to close the day, we lingered by the fire pit at the beach. I was wide awake and busy with my thoughts, and all those feelings that were completely new to me, but Armand was really tired -- or just tired, for the first time, because the other nights he had been exhausted, and fatigued from fear and tension.



We finally went to bed, when the fire grew into red embers and then died.



If there possibly is extinction to such an eternal fire as love and friendship, so quiet, calm and constant.



We only closed our eyes near dawn, to the new day, the final day, and tried to escape into oblivion.



I woke up to a whistle I had never heard before, that seemed closer to the island than the cry of the seagulls. Not having found Armand on the bed, nor anywhere in the house, I ran to the beach.

He was standing there, waiting for the boat that could already be seen on the horizon, coming towards us -- towards him.

He was crying.



'Armand, mon cher ami... Would you have left without saying goodbye to me?' -- I was disappointed -- 'Armand, why do you cry?'

'The whistle of the boat would surely have woken you, Carlo... I did not want you to see me cry... I guess I'm just tired... And I have so many battles to fight ahead of me... You know, I've been thinking... I'll have to do this over and over again... come out to as many people as I want and have to... And not everyone will be so ready to embrace it as you were... Merci beaucoup, mon cher Carlo.' -- he sighed.

'You can't know the relief I'm feeling after all... No, you don't know how coming out feels like... when so many lies finally die... one feels so naked, like a newborn baby... And since I'm not planning to tell it to my mother on her death bed... and surely not to my father after I inform him about my professional sheer... seems like you'll be the sole person to share my secret on the planet, Carlo...'




'You are no longer alone, mon cher Armand. Please, never forget that.' -- I said reassuringly, as I embraced him. -- 'Whenever you feel lonely' -- I continued, as I held Armand tight -- 'please think of this beautiful island. You have your home now. And think of me here, taking care of it for you. Your... brother. Waiting for your return.'




'Please, don't lose sight of the dried brambles giving way to the flowers...' -- I guess that was the second part of my love declaration, now under the sun -- 'Please never close your eyes to your beautiful watercolors, turning into a real garden... Because when you return, it will be there for you, mon cher Armand... I'll be the faithful gardener, but you know... the sun and the soil will be even more faithful and generous than I could ever be... Supporting you, supporting me.'





'When you face difficulties' -- and I could picture Armand back in France, at the Chateau de Montbellle, with his mother on her deathbed and his almighty father displeased with my friend's decisions --, 'please think of how the breeze runs free on this island, and unreservedly wanders into all rooms of the house...The house that will be illuminated from the inside, painted white as you have envisioned it...'

'Can you see it already?' -- I asked him, as I started crying myself when I heard the whistle of the boat so close to the island.




'Thank you, mon cher Carlo... Mon amour.'

'Thank you, mon cher Armand... Fratello mio.'



'See you...'


'Please...'


'...come back...'


'...soon.'















8 comments:

  1. It sounds as though Carlo is starting to fall for Armand just a little. Something is certainly changing in him and I can only wonder (and hope) it is because he is starting to see Armand as more than a brother.

    Armand, poor Armand. The idea of having to tell his mother something so deeply emotional like this on her deathbed and fearing her rejection as well with little to no time to make peace. I hope it all goes well for him :(

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    1. thank you for reading and commenting, Daijahv!

      Carlo has never loved anyone like he loves Armand... orphaned, he didn't get love from his parents, and his grandfather, though a good man, wasn't very loving either... Love is a new experience to him, and his heart is now open because of Armand's coming out... It's a beautiful evolution of their relationship! It's just a pity they did not have more time together on the Île.

      Armand is a brave young man, and having been accepted and embraced by Carlo has given him more courage to stand for his truth. I think he has realized how it's going to be to come out again and again to so many people through his life... But he is now willing to face them all!

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  2. I see a change happening in Carlo, Hopefully, it's not just wishful thinking. He always relished his alone time and never really seemed to need anyone. I think he's beginning to see that his life could be enriched by sharing it with Armand. Perhaps Armand's extended absence will give Carlo some time to sort out his feelings.

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    1. I don't think Carlo has ever heard it said before -- "I love you, Carlo".

      Maybe he is not a loner, maybe he is just protecting himself -- as an orphan, and marked by that loss more than he can guess, instead of being needy and willing to connect to whomever, Carlo actually has his difficulties in relating to others, specially when it comes to love, that is a completely new experience to him...

      And now that he is connected to Armand in so many levels, like he has never been to anyone before, his experience of solitude shall be also new, and maybe radically different from that in his atelier at the abandoned factory in Paris.

      Yes, through Armand's love, a new Carlo was born.

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  3. Just heartbreaking.
    I need to stop for the night, I'm too sad.
    But this is truly lovely. I'll be back in the morning. :)

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    1. Saying goodbye to a good friend is always heartbreaking. I've been sad myself too many times because of that!

      Carlo and Armand have had just a few days together -- but were they intense!

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  4. :(
    Carlo said such nice things to Armand before he left that were so sweet and sad. It's sad that Armand doesn't feel like he can be his true self around his parents, but at least he can be comforted that his very good friend Carlo knows of it.

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    1. It's sad to see them saying goodbye, worsened by the fact that Armand is leaving on a very difficult journey, but Carlo's beautiful and heartfelt words should help Armand on this that might be the hardest moment of all in his life yet, which is saying goodbye to his mother.

      Armand is probably used to not being his true self around his parents and everyone else on this planet -- expect for Carlo -- but still, that is so sad and makes him lonelier. At least now he has Carlo's tenderness to recall.

      thank you for reading and commenting LateKnightSimmer!

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