Interlude 1.2

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EPISODE 23

All is full of love

You just ain't receiving

All is full of love

Your phone is off the hook

All is full of love

Your doors are all shut

All is full of love!

( from 'All is full of love' by Björk )

'Are you happy here?' -- Fabrizio had asked while we had been strolling along the rugged, beautiful Icelandic coast, all on our own, as if we were the last human beings on the planet -- or the first, since for the two of us as a couple everything was new in the world.

It was a sunny second day at our Icelandic house, and Fabrizio, after returning from his daily jogging, had agreed to descend to the small strip of sand at the foot of our house, to sun bathe and maybe dive into the cold sea. But the beautiful patterns and colors of the rocks had beckoned me and I had engaged Fabrizio in an artistic exploration of those shores. 

I knew his question had many nuances, and I tried to grasp them all before giving him the only possible answer.

Since he could not spend much time away from work, at first Fabrizio had wanted to spend just two weeks in Iceland. One week traveling around the country, as it was to my taste, and the other we would spend in a design house, as it was his tradition.

But it was also our honeymoon, the first long trip in over a year we had been together, and I found two weeks very little time for a celebration.

'You can be a better boss and allow yourself more vacations!' -- it had been my request, after having calculated that we would need at least three weeks to calmly go around the entire country on the Ring Road -- 'And maybe, a better husband, too!' -- and I had laughed, because concerning his affection, respect and the care that Fabrizio had with me, there was no improvement possible.

At first he said that three weeks was too long -- Impossible! -- he had claimed. But then, not only to content me, and as if he couldn't just agree with me, because he enjoyed surprising me, he had decided on four weeks -- three en route and one at a home that we would choose together.

But I knew his current question -- Are you happy here? -- had a certain emphasis on the here. He now wanted to spend a whole week of immobility, while I still wanted to visit some places nearby, especially the Blue Lagoon Spa. 

But after having agred on 3 weeks for the road, any new tour that I wished to go on would have to be negotiated with Fabrizio.

There was something else, too, beyond Fabrizio's wish to no longer leave the house.

Are you happy here? It was as if he was asking me if I could be happy with him only, just the two of us in that isolated landscape.

Fabrizio had lost almost all his friends when he had brought me into his life, and since he thought I was very social, because of my eventful past in Vice City and especially in Samsara Heights, he was always worried that I would feel bored in his company only. 

We never went out in a group of friends. As a couple, we went to restaurants and to the movies, and I had already noticed his being worried without knowing exactly why.

'Won't you get bored, Laurent? With me... getting to spend time with just me, all of the time?' -- he had finally clarified the reason for his insecurity. Coming from a very succesful executive and such a gorgeous man like Fabrizio, so set in his opinions and highly cultivated tastes, his concern touched me.

Fabrizio had given up a lot of things to be with me. Not only his friends had deserted him, but his family had turned his back on him, unable to accept or understand the new way of life he had chosen. He had faced difficult and unpleasant moments because of me, and all the time I was afraid that he might regret his efforts, seeing that my company was, after all, the single thing that he had obtained in return for so many things he had lost.

'I love you, Laurent!' -- Fabrizio was very sweet, tender and caring when it came to love, just like he was rational and objective concerning his businesses -- 'Because you're the only one I need to be happy, anywhere on this planet.'

His love still surprised me, like an unexpected prize I had won without having run for anything. Merit maybe? No, it was just by luck, my tremendous luck.

*****

I had returned for yet another workshop at Vice's Contemporary Art Museum, to be the last one in 2010.

 ' I won't be your employee anymore, Dan.' -- I had thus clarified my position to my powerful friend, and he had finally given in and released me.

Some months had passed since my encounter with Fabrizio at the airport, and I rarely thought of him -- only when I stumbled upon one of those topics we had shared, on which I had no one else to share with. But upon returning to Vice City, I could not resist the temptation to deliver Shantideva's book to him.

I had left it inside a neutral envelope at the reception of his apartment building, the address which I had gotten from the German woman. Of course, in seeing that book he would have imagined it was me who had left it for him, and know that I had been in town.

But it was not quite what I wanted.

The conversation with Carlo had made me realize the responsibility I had had in my past for my affairs with married men. I used to think that the consciousness problem must be theirs only, not mine at all, and that if I missed the chance to go to bed with them, another guy would do it -- so why should I be the one to fast?

"Have you ever been betrayed, Laurent?" -- Carlo had asked me, getting a little sentimental and judgmental. That's when I had finally confessed to him that indeed all my models had been former lovers, but I could not assume it because among them there were some married men -- Then you should know this pain, Laurent. And since nobody can cheat if there isn't a partner for the betrayal... Yes, you do have responsibility in that betrayal, and the suffering inflicted on a person you've never met is also being inflicted by you. Think carefully if you want to be the cause of that unhappiness which has made ​​you suffer yourself, my son."

That reflection from Carlo had actually helped me to put end to a period of great sexual (and professional) activity, and led me to attempt a steady relationship with Gabriel. But neither Gabriel nor I had made ​​any faithfulness commitment, and I would again experience the suffering from uncertainty and doubt, which had eroded my relationship with Angelo, and our painful end when his repetead betrayals had been confirmed... and despite my forgiveness, Angelo had still and finally dumped me.

Carlo's beautiful speech had awakened me to my share of guilt, or responsibility, in that kind of affair. 

Thus, in Vice City the only thing I wanted from Fabrizio was a night of good conversation, and so I had attached a note to the book:

Thanks for the conversation that 

brought me joy and calm in the chaos.

Send my best regards to Gerhard.

And I could not resist it -- I did not sign it, but I did included my mobile number. I thought it was a harmless enough note, in the event that his fiancée was to receive and open the envelope, despite Fabrizio's name being on it.

But as the night went on and I did not get any call, I started regretting not having gone home that same afternoon. My hotel room had a great view over to the city including the airport, and as I watched each plane take off, my sadness grew and I reproached myself for having foolishly stayed in town, waiting for a call from a guy who had been actually warned against me.

Idiot, idiot, idiot, I repeated to myself as I watched the silent, dead mobile phone beside me, recognizing my own expectations and fantasies -- despite Carlo's advice, if Fabrizio wanted to cheat his fiancée, I was not sure that I could resist such an attractive man.

He was still laughing when he called. In an instant, all the night's boredom and bad mood had dissipated, and I watched my expectations on the rise again.

'He is here right by my side, and he also sends best regards!' -- Fabrizio laughed, speaking of Gerhard Richter. Interestingly, he had forgotten to identify himself, as if our conversation that had ended in the lobby of the Samsara Heights airport had been just yesterday, and not months ago. Maybe because he had also been thinking of me since then, all the time mentally talking to me, daily dreaming of me? 

'Who?' -- I said, and just to let him know that I had recognized him, I added -- 'Shantideva or Richter?' -- and I laughed too.

'I guess Indian sages don't usually visit this part of the world.' -- Fabrizio laughed. And my heart would swell at each of his laughters... I was so happy!

'But of course they do!' -- excitedly, I started telling him about one of the most interesting talks I had attended at a Buddhist temple in Vice City, while in college, when I had been a much more assiduous and disciplined meditator. The suffering inflicted by Angelo with his infidelity had also been a good incentive for me to try to focus and stabilize my life. Only when he had finally left me had my debauched, lavish sex life begun, unable as I was to cope alone with my tremendous suffering and rejection. 

After some time on the phone, though, I realized I had been talking on my own for a long time. 

'I'm sorry, Fabrizio. I often get excited with these topics, and I always end up talking too much about them...'

'It's okay.' -- but he was not laughing anymore. Very unskinfully, I had brought in very serious issues -- 'I know nothing of these matters. I was never interested in them. But it seems that these people are quite sensible.' -- Fabrizio temporized, and then fell silent.

 I then realized why I had spoken so much, and actually wanted to continue. 

I did not want that call to end. I did not want him to just thank me for the books -- Shantideva's,  and another one with contemporary reviews by the Dalai Lama, which made reading the Guide so much easier -- and hang up. Even if just over the phone, I wanted so much to talk to Fabrizio.

'If I remember correctly, Richter's painting had also the name of a saint, wasn't it?' -- I asked, trying to prolong the conversation.

'It's true!' - Fabrizio was again happy -- 'St. Andrew! A Western and an Eastern saint. I hadn't made this association.'

'Since Richter's paintings all have their own aura, I imagine yours must have that too, so... you do have a saint manifesting at your place!' -- and I decided to risk, giving a hint about my intentions toward him -- 'I have only this night here in Vice City... I would love to see your Richter... But since I may not be able to... you could send me a photo by email.'

Fabrizio was silent. I had invited myself to his house, but at the same time I had made ​​a mistake saying it wouldn't be possible, as if I had some other appointment. It was to clarify that misunderstanding and to break his silence that I continued, bolder:

'Would you like to have a drink... to have a chance to chat more, Fabrizio? I'm actually free tonight... Or maybe even... Have you dined already?' -- and I felt my chest hurt at the possibility of him answering that he had another dinner engagement, or even that he had already dined, since it was very late, and that he had to go...

'Sorry Laurent, I don't feel like leaving my house again today.' -- and upon hearing that again I thought "Idiot, idiot... if it was to talk to him over the phone, there had been no need to stay in this sad city"... Then it began, that habit from Fabrizio that would fulfill our lives, when he would not only satisfy me, but as if he couldn't simply agree with me, he had on top to actually surprise me -- 'I just got back from the gym, and I want to take a shower now, but... Wouldn't you like to come over? I have wine and pasta at home. Of course, if it's not too late for you.'

'I'm on my way!' -- I exulted -- 'I'll be there in a minute, then!' -- I didn't want to give him the chance to change his mind --' I just have to put my shoes on.'

No longer thinking I was an idiot, I instead started thinking I was getting old. At other times, I would not have stayed in my hotel room on a Saturday night, reading a novel and drinking white tea, expecting a not so probable call from a straight guy that was engaged. And if in fact the guy called me, he would reach me at a club, where I'd be comparing him to the diversity of men at the bar where I was, considering if he was my best option.

At other times, I would have waited for Fabrizio in the company of some other evening beau. There had been an invitation from Dan to attend a super cool reception that night, that I had refused.

But I was afraid to go out in Vice City and meet Gabriel -- and even worse if he would be with his new young partner. Or was I afraid to go out and return to the hotel on my own, having failed in my nocturnal hunt? Gabriel had renewed old wounds that did hurt more in Vice City than anywhere else -- a wound that actually came from Angelo. After Angelo, I had never been in love again. For more than ten years, now. Rejection had turned into a permanent aftertaste, since Angelo had abandoned me without further explanations, when he had assumed the new relationship that he had begun, still during ours, with a woman named Laura.

At thirty-five, I no longer felt exactly at the peak of my beauty. I had twice as many years of a boy of eighteen, but not exactly twice his vigor. If I had in fact double the experience, that was also what made ​​me now feel a little tired and bored, burnt out, and that had led me to stay at the hotel room waiting for a phone call. 

Now that it had come, I was as happy as I was nervous.

Let's at least get a kiss tonight!, I thought, listening to Daughter's cover of the Daft Punk song "Get Lucky". 

And that it be a long, luscious kiss from that gorgeous man, it will have been worth already having stayed overnight in Vice City... And I laughed thinking that exactly Shantideva and the Dalai Lama, who taught me unattachment and how to get rid of desires and illusions, had been the bait for that night. Would there be such a thing as blasphemy in Buddhism? Or would it be heresy?

I was full of doubts as I left for that date. On one hand, as if backed by the two buddhist masters, there was Carlo's discourse. He had always been faithful to Catherine, and his words had awakened in me a sense of guilt and responsibility -- and I had wronged myself so many times not minding having sex with married, engaged or however commited men. I couldn't have cared less in the past! Or maybe more than a mistake, it was the transmission of the pain I had felt during my relationship with Angelo, when so many men had not bothered to have sex with him, giving him the chance to cheat on me... So why should I care? Even now...

But there was another transmission.

At the foundation of my small family there was a betrayal -- the long years, more than two decades, that Gaston de Montbelle had cheated his wife with my grandmother Celeste. A betrayal that had wounded Armand and even sentenced his mother to death. I was very aware of this tragedy as a ground for my birth.

And maybe because of the years living with Catherine, I felt I mirrored her more than I did Carlo. I had lately been much more into her free sexuality -- at that exact moment, she was living in Russia, having accepted a position to teach at the University of St. Petersburg, a city she had always loved, but mostly because it was there that her current boyfriend lived -- than I had adoppted Carlo's monasticism. He had never touched another woman in his life that was not my mother... In that sense I had always been faithful to Angelo, and I had been fooled and cheated too many times.

And when I got to Fabrizio's apartment, I was confused, totally indecisive, torn between different aspects of my life and personality.

I had come too swiftly, anxious and hurriedly, and I found he had left the door open.

'Fabrizio?' -- I voiced loud as I entered.

'Forgive me for not opening the door to you!' -- I heard him shouting from upstairs -- 'I'm getting dressed...'

'Do you want me to go up?' -- in an instant, I realized what my true desire was. I was trying to understand the other guy's codes... The apartment was a loft, without any partition, and in an instant I realized that none of the paintings on the walls was Richter's. The light was dim, a light that inspired intimacies. Did he purposely let me in and had stayed upstairs, naked in front of the painting, waiting for me? Would it be his fantasy? Or just mine?

'No!' -- and he sounded indignant, even a little angry, I thought -- 'I'm already coming down! Just a minute, please!'

Fabrizio's was a duplex apartment -- or maybe even a triplex -- at the last floor of one of the most luxurious buildings in town, signed by some superstar architect which I couldn't recall the name, with a breathtaking view of the ocean, which seemed to invade the whole ambient.

While waiting for Fabrizio, I slowed down and used the time to get used to the environment. Although extremely sober, very masculine, it was also a radical experience -- every object in shades of black or gray -- and since I had dressed in those same colors I was feeling as if camouflaged. But since many of the surfaces were bright and reflective, there was a dim light lingering in a magical and mysterious atmosphere, creating a subtle and very sophisticated effect.

Clean was the word that came to mind -- almost as if someone had placed the furniture, a selection of the best incontemporary design, but had then forgotten -- or given up -- decorating it. Chairs by Marc Newson, Tom Dixon lights, a stunning, sculptural bench by Zaha Hadid -- his apartment was probably the most beautiful and luxurious one in contemporary style that I had ever visited.

And soon I also identified a superb painting by the French painter Pierre Soulages, and a flawless etching by Richard Serra -- but nowhere was the Richter to be seen.  Together with the other two, these were among my favorite contemporary artists.

It was the first time I was seeing Fabrizio since our parting at the airport in Samsara Heights, and his impossible beauty, that I sometimes thought to be the result of my memory clouded by desire, again impressed me.

If Fabrizio had once been wearing the Italian suit and a flawless pink shirt which valued his tanned skin, this time he had chosen a blue shirt that starlit his eyes, and along with the blue jeans, he made ​​a dash of color against the neutral background of the apartment, while I myself blured. He was even more beautiful than I remembered him.

I didn't expect a kiss upon arrival, but at least a hug... Fabrizio, however, shook my hand quickly, apologetically. Was he as nervous as I was? What were his intentions, I wondered.

'I'm sorry. When the doorman warned that you had arrived, I had just gotten out of the shower.' -- he apologized a bit too formally -- 'I thought I'd rather leave the front door open than keep you waiting. Forgive me for not having received you.'

'No problem!' -- he was indeed being overly formal, as if using it as a shield -- 'I'm impressed... It's impossible not to be entertained with this view... All this ocean...' -- in fact, the view from his apartamet was so special for offering nothing but the vast ocean, without any other interferences --' It is stunning!' -- just like the owner, I thought, and suddenly I realized our unintentional color scheme... how I had dressed with the apartment's colors and how he had dressed in the colors of the ocean.

'It was the main reason why I bought this apartment. Many times I come home, tired or stressed, and my concerns seem to dilute in this view, as if they were too tiny against that horizon so vast. The same way the sea invades the apartment, it invades and cleanses my mind.'

'The apartment is also very nice!' -- I had forgotten to mention the room decor, and by complimenting just the view I wasn't quite complimenting Fabrizio; the ambient being the actual demonstration of the owner's taste --  'Quite... minimal.'

 'Minimal is also the style of music I like!' -- Fabrizio laughed -- 'You nailed it! Usually people just think the apartment is too empty.'

Each time Fabrizio finished his speech, an inconvenient emptiness settled between us. I wondered if he was thinking about his finacée, and her own remarks about the apartment. He seemed to be embarrassed by my presence. We were very close, and I could smell his perfume.

'Empty? No... Never! The landscape seems to fill it!' -- I had exclaimed. Stretching that conversation about the landscape seemed ridiculous to me, but our silence bothered me so much more.

'That's exactly why I ordered a minimum of decoration to the architect. I even gave him a minimal music podcast, so that he could understand my style. I didn't want the landscape to compete with lots of little things. "These tiny noises?", the architect had asked me, after hearing the music on the podcast, "What are you trying to tell me with these noises?" -- Fabrizio laughed -- 'But the final result is satisfactory, I guess.'

'They were "tiny noises" like the ones that we are listening now?' -- I had noticed a very subtle eletronic soundtrack, but I had not been able to identify any known reference.

 'That's right. Alva Noto. He is a German musician, do you know him?' -- but I had never heard of him, and I could not reciprocate Fabrizio's enthusiasm --' And in a moment comes another album he recorded with Ryuichi Sakamoto.'

We went on talking about music, although I had little familiarity with electronica. Fabrizio told me about several collaborations from Sakamoto -- from whom I loved various compositions -- with contemporary eletronic musicians,  and then he reprogrammed the playlist so that I could listen to the artists he had mentioned -- Christian Fennesz, Autechre, Murcof and many others which I cannot even remember the name. From my part, all I remembered were some electronic remixes of Miles Davis -- jazz was my metier -- that Fabrizio seemed happy to discover.

That musical exchange was very enjoyable and stimulating, while we were accustoming ourselves again to each other's presence, and re-connecting. Music was another passion that would always bring us together.

Gradually, the uncomfortable feeling that had risen in me the moment I stepped into Fabrizio's apartment was taking shape and I got to name it -- misfit. Despite the camouflage I seemed to be using, I felt misplaced at Fabrizio's apartment, where everything was so brand new -- as far as I could recognize, all the pieces had been designed in the last decade, all of them in this century, all so contemporary...

And young. Fabrizio himself, without the suit, looked very young. He certainly had less than thirty years, maybe just a little more than twenty-five... And inside that apartment, so modern, I was the oldest thing. 

Old, I felt old there. An antique, but nothing vintage.

'Do you mind if I stay barefoot?' -- Fabrizio asked suddenly, as if that was the reason for the discomfort between us.

'Of course not!' -- I had already noticed that detail, and I confess that I found it exciting, though not being any kind of fetish for me... It was just that he was so elegant and flawlessly dressed, that being barefoot kind of broke that formality that was settling between us... it was an almost erotic detail, too, almost as if he was stripping for me. You wish, I thought -- 'Is it your place shoes free?'

'No, of course not. What would you like to drink?' -- he asked, as he then walked away. I noticed that he had avoided facing me, and I began to think that he regretted having invited me.

'Do you have sparkling water? Or some juice?' -- this was always an embarrassing moment for me, when I had to announce that I didn't drink any alcoholic beverage, not even socially. It was easier to come out as gay, which was cool, and people in a group would try to be nice and inclusive about it, than saying that I didn't drink licquor, because people thought it sounded a bit judgmental and moralistic on their choice, though it never was more than my own, private thing.

'I have champagne, whiskey... And people usually compliment my dry martini' -- and as Fabrizio saw me looking embarrassed, he added kindly -- 'You really don't drink? Anything alcoholic?'

'No.' -- I replied simply. I was feeling anguished, so I got up and went up to the bar, behind which Fabrizio seemed entrenched. Music won't be enough to bring us together, I thought, specially when I like old fashioned jazz songs.

'Then I'll get your juice from the kitchen... Do you mind if I drink?' -- I thought it was really princely of him to ask me.

'Of course not!' -- and as I had noticed that the annoyance between us had grown because of my request for water, I preferred to clarify it to him -- 'You know, my parents drink it all for me!' -- I tried to laugh, but it came out nervously and my remark sounded wistful.

'Gee, I'm sorry to hear that.' -- Fabrizio approached me, and empathically, he laid his hand on my shoulder.

'No, it's not that serious...' -- I felt so akward -- 'It's not that they are alcoholic or something, at least not so far...' -- I laughed again to soften my former statement -- 'I don't know, drinking is not associated with a joyous mood for me, at least not a joy that seems natural... maybe something noisy, an exaggerated celebration... Fun, excitement... but not joy.'

'How do you do to relax, if you don't drink?' --  Fabrizio's question amazed me. My mind would never have followed that path.

'I go to the sauna...' -- I replied, laughing, but I realized it had been a cheap and ordinary remark -- 'No, actually I meditate... This relaxation provided by drinking seems to me more like a doping... It is a blurring of sensations, more than true relaxation...'

'And what would that be, true relaxation?' -- Fabrizio seemed to challenge me.

I was so aware of his hand on my shoulder, as if it was burning me. His presence by my side was like fire. But actually I was burning inside, and the sensation was not bad, just uncomfortable from being so intense.

'Mental. True relaxation is not just physical, but mainly mental. When the mind is at peace, large, bright and clear. In this mental space one can truly relax, and unlike with the drinking, feel more alert, focused... illuminated.'

'Well, I've never had this experience...' -- he was not being disdainful, he just sounded doubtful -- 'Listening to good music, drinking a glass of wine while lying on the couch, that's what I call relaxing...' -- he again took a different path from what I had expected -- 'So these things in the books that you gave me are serious for you? I thank you very much for both, especially for the explanatory text by the lama... I flipped through a few pages and  it seemed very... ascetic. Do you practice like that?' -- Fabrizio seemed to have reservations that anyone could attend saunas, and maybe he was thinking of gay saunas, and also have a spiritual practice.

I could not have imagined that our conversation was moving toward a clash of opinions, nor that my postures in life could sound aggressive to him. But Fabrizio showed clearly he was being defensive, and somewhat politely dismissive.

'I don't...' -- I said, trying to soften our stances on the matter -- 'And yes, I do practice like that.'

At my remark, he withdrew his hand from my shoulder. But at least he didn't turn away from me.

 'How so? Is this some kind of mystical answer or riddle?' -- Fabrizio had tensed beside me, and I still could not have known how much he liked to engage in discussions and argumentations, how much he liked to feel intellectually challenged, and how much he despised all kinds of mysticism, as opposed to a rationalism that he cultivated with pride. 

 I would constitute an interesting antagonist for him as long as he did not come to despise my opinions completely. Shantideva, His Holiness the Dalai Lama and my other spiritual masters would have to back me up on that challenge, if I was to remain under Fabrizio's favours.

But something else concerned me. Was I the only one to feel the tension between us -- the overtly sexual energy that let little sparks fly when our hands brushed against one another? From his gaze in my direction, Fabrizio seemed to be judging me, and I could not know if my words made him more suspicious and resistant, or if it was my old fashioned appearance, which made me look so bland in that modern apartment, that was discouraging him to make any advances.

'I do practice... because I want to minimize my suffering. I want to have peace and live at peace with myself and with the largest number of people... beings, as I can. And I wish them all the same thing, a lasting peace.' -- I paused, judging whether my answer hadn't been too technical -- 'And I don't...' -- I paused again, choosing the next words -- 'because in fact some of these practices can be very ascetic, as you say, and I have no intention of becoming religious... nor do I think that total enlightenment could be possible for me in this life... but small moments of letting go, of freedom and release, like short enlightement flashes, these make me happy already!' -- and as I observed Fabrizio uncertainly listening to me, I amended -- 'I mean, I don't think that romantic love is purely a bad illusion... I cultivate the love for all beings, but that does not preclude my desire to find my only love, my perfect match...'

Fabrizio was silent, and I had the impression that he was trying to digest all my verbiage, and then pass on to his next attack or new challenge on me.

'It's Soulages, isn't it?' -- I asked, indicating the painting in front of us. It was a stunning painting totally in black by the French master, big enough to have costed a small fortune.

Fabrizio looked at me wryly, realizing that I had deliberately changed the subject.

'Yes!' -- but taken by surprise, he finally relaxed-- 'And you're the first person that comes to this apartment to mention Soulages... But after all, you are a visual artist yourself...' -- he grimaced, as if it were not more than my duty to know Pierre Soulages' works. It sounded like an accusation, and not a form of recognition.

'He is not that well known... but his work has changed my life, you know'? -- I had decided to make the conversation less intellectual and a bit more emotional, more personal -- 'Actually, it was when I saw an exhibition of Mark Rothko that I decided to change my life... At Vice's Contemporary Art Museum, do you remember it?'

'No, I don't. Maybe I was not living in Vice City yet, otherwise I should recall it... I would certainly have visited it. When was that?'

But I'd rather not mention the date, since in the 90s Fabrizio was only a child yet, and I didn't want to feel worse nor any older than I was already feeling.

'It was such a wonderfull exhibition, and I didn't want to leave after the first time I saw it... I returned to the museum daily. I flipped at those colors that seemed so free... They were a challenge to my own life... Then, there was an exhibition of Pierre Soulages, and I was even the more impressed, and truly touched... His black paintings were a revelation to me... I cannot explain exactly how...' -- I had noticed how Fabrizio was much more interested in my Art circuit than my spitirual path -- 'I had always thought that emotions were intense, but his paintings thrilled me so much, however being minimal... I mean, like the music you enjoy, you don't need to have too many elements to awaken an intense emotion... Maybe it was just the opposite, and that caused an insight about my own emotions... Next, I wanted to write that way, just like both masters had painted. You know, at that time I was studying Journalism...'

 'Journalism, Laurent?' -- I almost shivered and sighed when I heard Fabrizio pronounce my name  with his sexy, deep voice --' I thought you had studied Visual Arts.'

'I never have. Originally, I wanted to be a writer, inspired by my mother, Catherine Mortinné... Do you know her?' -- Fabrizio did not -- 'It doesn't matter... Actually, I left college before completing my last year for various circumstances' -- of which the worst and saddest had been the end of my relationship with Angelo, which I did not intend to mention to Fabrizio -- 'and then I started painting... But I have never had lessons, unless a few informal instructions from my father during my childhood...'

'So you are the son of Carlo D' Allegro!? I was about to ask you...' -- Fabrizio exclaimed, delighted . The fact that he had never heard of my mother, a famous writer with several best-selling books published and that had been translated to several languages, an ever growing sales success, but then knew my father, who just produced so little (and exactly because of that his work was highly valued), seemed to tell me a lot about Fabrizio's interests and taste, being not just refined but off the curve -- 'I would love to purchase one of your father's paintings, but at the moment he is one of the names that are under intense market speculation and I cannot afford him... It's a shame that he produces so little! Is it true that he has many finished canvases in his atelier but he won't release them because he seems to think they are not good enough?'

'You know the work of my father! Well, after all you are an art collector...' -- I tried to repay the accusation that Fabrizio had made me just now, and he laughed -- 'In some months I should visit my father at his home and atelier in the Apennines... If you want to come, too...' -- Carlo did not enjoy having visitors, but despite his nuisance I wanted to be kind and generous with Fabrizio, casting a bait that could bring us close again in the future .

'I'd love to! Oh, really? But I thought Carlo D'Allegro was a reclusive painter. How many years has it been since he last gave an interview? Not even over the internet! Do you think he would receive me?' -- again, Fabrizio had approached me, perhaps feeling captivated, grateful, or simply being interested in paying my-father-the-great-painter a visit.

'Internet?' -- I laughed wholeheartedly -- 'My father does not even know what that is! Haha! You would not be just any visitor... you would be in my company, and since you love art, of course you can talk to him and visit his studio... as if it were by chance. I shall guarantee him that you are not an undercover journalist, but... my friend.'

Finally, my mindset was clear to myself. I wanted to have a relationship with Fabrizio. My interest in that man was not just sex, but for the first time in many, many years, it was also romantic.

But considering he had a fiancée, my only options then were to become his lover or accept a one night stand -- but what were actually his intentions toward me, if any?

'It would be fabulous'! -- he was commenting the forthcoming visit to my father, not about having sex or romance with me --'I do not know what you think...' -- I realized that Fabrizio had been actually so in doubt about the purpose of our date as I had -- 'The maid left the dinner table laid...' -- I would later discover that Andara should have flown in earlier that night, and only when she had canceled was that Fabrizio decided to call me, for the book and my phone number had been with him since the afternoon -- 'Would you like to eat something? I really would rather not leave home tonight, and we could order...'

'Just if you want, yes. I've actually already dined.' -- in fact I hadn't eaten, but I was usually hungry after sex and not before it, so I preferred to wait. And I thought sitting at the table wouldn't help our mating; I still liked best the coreography we were rehearsing across the room.

'Okay, I'm not hungry now. I ate a snack at the gym. We can wait.' -- Fabrizio confirmed.

Wait till after we have had sex? I thought, but instead I said:

'That's a Serra, isn't it?' -- I pointed to the wall across the room, which was next to the stairs leading to the upper floor where his bedroom should be, and I walked in that direction, which after all was also the direction of my lust.

'That's easy to recognize, isn't it?' -- Fabrizio confirmed, smiling, following me across the room... and following my desire, too? -- 'Although most people, if they have heard of him, know only his sculptures...'

'I had seen some of the etchings from this series before, but not this one in particular... Your choice of artworks is truly remarkable...' -- I said, leaving it as a question.

'They have nothing to do with the architect who helped me choose the furniture, if that's what you're implying!' -- Fabrizio laughed -- 'These painters are my passion... Are you listening to this track from Noto with Sakamoto?'

The silence again settled between us, as I tried to listen to a music so minimal yet so intensely melancholic. It was then that I realized Fabrizio's present state. Although I was openly gay, I had not yet made ​​any sexual or romantic statement to assure him about that. Maybe he was uncertain about me, still wondering before making any moves. Or maybe he was simply waiting for my advances to finally give in and surrender to me.

'It's nice indeed...' -- I agreed with Fabrizio, who had just talked a bit about the track we were listening to. I hadn't paid attention to his words, though, nor to the music. Certainly, he and I had the same hunger and the need to share our likes, and it seemed that both had never met anyone with whom to harmonize so easily and thoroughly... But after being satisfied with our exchange of opinions and tastes, having confirmed that Fabrizio was a unique and very special person, and that we had a lot in common, I wanted more from that mouth than just words that could enchant and enthrill me...

 'How many floors is it this apartment?' -- I blurted out the question, and as he looked intrigued, I clarified the reason for my question ​​-- 'Do you have an art gallery upstairs or is it your room?' -- and I almost asked "or is it where your bed is?"

'It's just my room, upstairs.' -- Fabrizio laughed, not realizing the suggestion I had implied -- 'There is not any gallery. I'm not an art collector, as you put it earlier, at least not yet...'

'Is the Richter up there?' -- I continued, with determination -- 'Can we go to your room?' -- I felt I had chosen the right strategy when I had crossed the apartment and we were now both at the bottom of the stairs leading to his room... and to his bed.

It was disheartening when Fabrizio said we wouldn't go upstairs because the room was messy. Later I would learn that the maid had already taken some of Andara's clothes out of the closet, in preparation for her arrival. Her pretty shoes had been neatly lined in a corner, her sexy nightgown was folded on her side of the bed, and on top of a dresser, there were several framed pictures of the couple, that Fabrizio did not want to share with me.

'I thought you had invited me here...' -- I  tried to sound funny, but I was in complete dismay --' to see Richter's painting.'

'So... that's the only reason why you came over?' -- Fabrizio was trying to sound jokingly, too -- 'Because of Richter's painting?'

'And why else would it be?' -- I mouthed, rather rudely. I was feeling hurt and my frustration was taking over, too fast for me to quit it -- 'Of course I did not come here solely because of Richter's painting...' -- I had decided to be honest, seeing that things between us seemed to be getting only worse -- 'Although I would have loved to have the privilege to see such a beautiful piece from a private collection. But I thought it had been a pretext for our meeting. For both of us.' -- I noticed how he tensed up -- 'Fabrizio, I came here tonight because of you.'

At that moment, a flash of lightning lit up the sky, and I was scared. Arriving from the other side of town, and not yet visible through the apartment's windows, a storm was approaching. 

Fabrizio took a while to recover from my statement and to prepare a proper response. 

'I'm glad to hear that.' -- he said, a little embarrassed -- 'I think our connection is really remarkable.' -- Fabrizio had said the words slowly, as if choosing them very carefully.

'It's nice, isn't it?' -- I commented with irony. I noticed my impatience growing with my frustration -- 'But I don't feel I have just a special connection with you...' -- I decided to drop the hard tone, as if I had been complaining, and again spoke softly to him -- 'I feel attracted to you, Fabrizio.'

'Yes.' -- he replied, simply. Yes? Yes to what?, I thought, and I realized how Fabrizio was nervous when he got up from the couch, and he was even a little shaky. Perhaps... Was it his first time with another man? And then he continued -- 'I have never had a connection like this with anyone else.'

And again he was silent and still. I thought he was waiting for my reaction, for my next move. I thought I had to advance, to cross that border of formality between us. I felt I had to unbutton his shirt to make him feel at ease...

And my reaction was to approach him and try to embrace and kiss him.

'Sorry. I'm not ready for that yet!' -- he said, backing away.

'It is because of Adriana?' -- I shot. I was aware of the "yet" he had used.

'Who?' -- he replied, blinking the long eyelashes over his sparkling blue eyes.

'Your fiancée. What's her name again?' -- I was wondering if instead of trying to kiss him I should not have droped to my kness and tried to suck him. Perhaps he was not ready for anything romantic, but like other men always ready to cheat if it were mere sex. Sex, but without affection.

'How did you learn about Andara?' -- he was truly embarassed now.

'I have also been asking around about you, Fabrizio.' -- I was feeling hurt by his rejection, and a little silly for having approached him with a romantic expectation -- 'You did not invite me here at this hour of the night just to talk, wasn't it?' -- suddenly, I realized that the romantic and sensual fantasy could be an expectation only on my part -- 'Or was it?' -- but I honestly didn't think so. He hadn't dressed casually to receive me, and he had put on perfume... but what if it was always like that, even when he stayed on his own... like, he would wear Comme des Garçons no matter what occasion? No... the light was soft, the playlist was specially beautiful though sad... He was not just any macho who wanted company to watch a match on tv while drinking beer -- 'I'm sorry if I'm intruding...'

 'No, I have to apologize to you...' -- Fabrizio seemed genuinely sorry, and still embarrassed -- 'Shall we sit? Since you've arrived I have not sat down.' -- he smiled sadly.

I was happy to move away from the stairs that, just a few minutes before, had seemed to drive me closer to the satisfaction of my desire, and that now were the expression of my frustration. 

And he had asked me to sit, not to leave. Not all was lost, not yet.

 'It was Andrea who told you about Andara, wasn't it?' -- Fabrizio gave a half smile. He looked so sad -- 'I thought I had been discreet when I asked him about you. But Andrea...' -- Fabrizio shook his head, between perplex and worried --' he really wants to prevent us from being... even friends.'

'Sorry, Fabrizio, but I don't want to talk about Andara. And I don't mean to be rude, but I'd rather know what Andrea told you about me... You didn't call, and dumped me just like that, over the phone at Samsara Heights. I wanted so much to have met you on the day after our first meeting... As you said, our connection is special... I had even already bought Shantideva's book to give to you...'

'Pardon me for that. I also felt our connection was special, and I wanted to meet you, too. But it's not like I had imagined.'

'What had you imagined, Fabrizio?' -- at least we were talking like two civilized adults.

'I don't know. When I remembered you, everything seemed so light and good, so easy. But now that you are here...'

'Do you want me to leave?' -- I asked, my heart beating fast, always closer to breaking.

'No!' -- and he was even faster in dismissing it -- 'Nothing like that! It's just that it's hard for me. So difficult really.' -- he seemed to have problems with the words, as if pondering how sincere he actually wanted to be -- 'I'm not... as free as you are.'

'Your fiancée, again.' -- I tried to say it quite neutrally, without grimacing, but it nevertheless sounded like an accusation.

'No...' -- Fabrizio said it like a lament -- 'That's not what I'm talking about. I mean, it is also about her, but not quite just.' -- and I didn't suspect his next question -- 'Does your family know? I mean... You are gay, aren't you?' -- he couldn't look me in the eye when he asked -- 'Or bi... Do your friends know about it?'

The storm was approaching, but still there were no clouds in sight. The wind, though it could not be heard inside the apartment, was sometimes so strong that it made the windows shake.

 'My mother knows... And my father knows it, too... And I have no other family than that. An uncle that is not quite my uncle, though like me he is gay... I'm gay. I'm not bi. But never mind. My friends in Samsara Heights, yes, they all know it. I don't have any friends from my childhood. Nor any friends that I have left back in France.'

'And do they support you?' -- Fabrizio put such a strength and intensity in his questioning that was actually surprising, after all the nice, bland comments we had exchanged through the night so far -- 'I mean, your parents, do they support you? Have they been against you?'

'My mom has always supported me, her own way. She was surprised at first, but not exactly shocked.' -- my memories of coming out to Catherine were actually some of the nicest I had from my teenage years in France, though the period prior to that day had been full of anguish and long, thoughtful conversations with Angelo, who was already my boyfriend at the time. We had decided to come out together -- 'My father... Carlo left home when I was thirteen, and I only had the chance to come out to him much later, just a couple of years ago...' -- though that conversation at the Nirvana Lounge had been more of a recognition than a coming out -- 'And I'm not sure about it, but I think he knew it already from my early teenage years... Later on, it was like simply telling him that I loved sushi best of all, and that I had been eating sushi and just sushi all my life... Especially hot rolls, haha!' -- I laughed hard at my own spontaneous joke, but Frabizio, who wasn't in a playfull mood, looked at me shocked -- 'I guess it doesn't really matter for him, as long as I'm happy.'

'I suppose so... Being in a family of artists...' -- there was a slight but unmistakable tone of contempt in Fabrizio's comment about my family. Was he actually diminishing all the suffering I had been through just because my father was a painter and my mother a writer -- "artists", like he had said?

'Do you think my coming out was made ​​any easier just because my mom dyes her pubic hair blue to match her tatoos, and my dad smokes marijuana he grows himself in our backyard?' -- Fabrizio opened his eyes wide and looked at me in surprise -- 'But since my mother doesn't paint her hair blue, and my dad never even tried marijuana, it was not any easier for me to come out to them, just because you think so! That is prejudice, Fabrizio, albeit in reverse'! -- I was pissed off at his remark -- 'I had to lie and suffer a lot, and I suffered a lot from lying, until when I realized I would rather suffer from the truth than from a lie.'

'Maybe.' -- Fabrizio was still unsure about my sharing, as if it wasn't emotional nor dark enough for a coming out -- 'But you never feared they could expel you from home, did you? Did you actually fear they could have rejected you? I mean, can you imagine how it would have been if you were in a Catholic and conservative family like mine? I even have an uncle who's a cardinal...'

'No, I cannot imagine it!' -- I replied, impatiently -- 'Sorry, Fabrizio, but why are you asking me... and telling me these things?'

'Because you're the only person I've ever met with whom I could share. And wanted to share them with, Laurent. Our connection is so special to me.' -- Fabrizio sighed, and for a moment he seemed to notice the strong wind blowing outside, but he actually was lost in his own turmoil of thoughts and feelings -- 'I reached a point in my life where either I change it now, or it will remain the same, worthless lie until the day I die!' -- he touched me lightly -- 'When I met you, I thought you'd be the first who...'

'Do you want to try it with me?'  -- I interrupted Fabrizio angrily --' Is that it? To see how is it with another guy... What for? To decide if you'll come out?' -- I was being aggressive and challenging him. Maybe that's what he needed to jump on me. 

'No.' -- Fabrizio replied sharply, showing he was in control of himself -- 'I know how it is with another man.' -- and I have to confess that I was very surprised with Fabrizio's honesty. I hadn't yet been able to imagine him in bed with another guy, and fantasized about taking his "virginity" -- 'But I still don't know how is it to fall in love, to get romantically involved with another man. That would have been you.'

'But?' -- my heart was beating faster, and I had begun to sweat when I decided to let him finish the sentence.

'People are not always as we would like them to be.' -- he said, quite neutrally.

'This was for me, then?' -- he had stated his criticism and disappointment, but I still did not understand why -- 'And what do you dislike me so much for? I know, I don't always trim the white hairs inside my nose...' -- my trying to be funny sounded awful, when he briefly checked my face for all the imperfections.

'You are perfectly beautiful, Laurent.' -- Fabrizio said it quietly, without the slightest embarrassment -- 'Your profile is that of a classical statue. Has anyone ever told you that you look like the Charioteer of Delphi?' -- but his compliment was passionless, the same tone of voice someone would use to comment on a work of art or the design of a chair -- 'But the gay scene seems to be always restless, and men do not seem to ever want to leave the market, the free flow from bed to bed.'

'And you're listening to it frying right now, aren't you? Is that what you want to say?' -- I finally had begun to understand the charges posed against me -- 'I'm drowning in that frying pan, right, like some deep fried shit, isn't it?' -- I was angry, and not just at Fabrizio -- 'What did Andrea tell you about me?'

But Fabrizio did not seem to hear my question, or did not wish to answer it.

'Kurt. One of Andrea's boyfriends.' -- Fabrizio was saying -- 'I met him once in a parking lot, and he was there looking for the same thing that I was... With the difference that he was hunting openly, while I did not want, nor could, be seen by anyone. It was the first time I wanted to make anonymous sex with another man, since I had begun dating Andara. I don't even know why I suddenly surrendered to that desire. I had felt that despair before, and I could deal with that anguish so great without losing control. My life had become a perfectly boring lie, but it was under control. Even if my repressed desire would not let go, I still was able to bend it, daily.'

Fabrizio was silent for a few moments, looking for his next words, while I listened to the wind, and then he continued, no longer looking in my direction.

'But not that day. Probably I would have left that filthy place alone, as indeed I left it later, without anyone having seen me, and like it had always been, no one would ever know the secret  that tortured and disgusted me. However, precisely Kurt was there that afternoon, hunting like I was. He and Andrea had an open relationship, and I think Kurt told Andrea where he had met me without any embarrassment from his part. Andrea has never mentioned anything to me. Just recently, our restauranter friend met Andara and fell instantly for her. They became best friends forever, overnight.  I know they have even talked about the menu for our wedding party, although there is no date set yet... I think Andrea never told my secret to her, at least not yet, but he started watching me, even through his network of friends. It was foolish of me, to talk about you to Andrea. I thought he would be happy to find a friend in common. But because of... your reputation, Laurent, he must have begun imagining things and blaming me. And I'm afraid of what he might tell Andara.'

'My... reputation?' -- Fuck Andara!, I wanted to have screamed instead --'You think my reputation has harmed you somehow?' -- I tried to sound enraged, but I was just a bit angry and actually enjoying myself. It was as if Fabrizio spoke of a Laurent I hadn't met yet -- 'What did Andrea tell you that made you change your mind about me? About my reputation, I mean? Was it because of my... reputation that you never called me in Samsara Heights?'

'He...' -- Fabrizio looked embarrassed, again measuring how far his sincerity should go -- '...told me what happened between you two when you were dating.'

'Ha!' -- now I was actually feeling indignant -- 'Has Andrea also told you about how I became a escort and a porn actor? He loves talking about that!' -- Bravo!, I thought; by Fabrizio's look, I had finally and definitely shocked him -- 'Because it's all a lie, and that evil...' -- I was about to say son of a bitch, but I didn't want to be unfair with an unknown mother --' asshole is the worthless scum you'll ever meet!' 

'No need to be rude, Laurent. I'm not here trying to judge you.' -- Fabrizio took a deep breath before his great confession, that which made ​​him so superior to me --'But except for just one occasion... only once...' -- he gestured toward me as if to say "my only time with another man" -- 'I have never cheated on Andara.'

Now that we already know that his "only once" actually meant "only one man", that Helmut guy he had screwed a few hundred times, even when he had been dating Andara... And he tought he wasn't cheating on the relationship he had with her, because he had been fucking Helmut before he had met her... The Austrian guy was his primary relationship, like his original sin, and there could be no sin out of their relationship... Now that we know all that bullshit from Fabrizio, I fell having even more reasons to have exploded on him like I did. Even if at the time I did not know about Helmut, and I still wonder if that "only once" actually meant the Austrian hunk or it had been someone else...

'Ha! And what leads you to think that I betrayed Andrea?' -- I exclaimed outragedly -- 'Just because he told you so? Do you know what his problem with me is? The simple fact that he never actually dated me!' -- I had been almost snorting.

'It was not what he said.' -- Fabrizio replied.

I suddenly remembered the queue at the airport, and how Fabrizio could be stubborn, like the spoilt child he had been.

'Oh, I don't care what Andrea says about me! I know who I am, I know what I do, and I know why I do it!' -- I saw saliva fly from my mouth as I shouted, and unlike my drooling on Fabrizio's suit, that wasn't very romantic -- 'I could not care less about Andrea! It amazes me that he hasn't talked about my career as a porn star, if it was to be so venomous...'

'It wasn't just him telling me things about you.' -- Fabrizio seemed determined to defend the restauranteur, and keep his accusations against me. Right, they were friends, and I was a stranger to him.

'You made ​​a research on me, was it?' -- I asked wryly.

'There was no need for one, Laurent. Have you ever searched your name on Google, safe search turned off, to see the kind of images that appear?' -- Fabrizio raised his thick, manly eyebrows -- 'Or rather, the comments on your images?'

'Now I'm fascinated! Why have I never had this idea before?' -- but I knew exactly what pictures he was talking about... the close ups of my sculpture's butt, my erections, my pubic hair and other explicit details from my paintings, about which I actually did not bother at all -- 'Do you want to share your fascinating finds about me... with me? But only the praise first!' -- I teased him, again feeling humorous.

'Oh yeah, there is lots of praise, of course!' -- Fabrizio was ironic -- 'Especially about your... talents. There is plenty of guys that guarantee they have done it to you and can provide details.'

'If I'm that easy, Fabrizio, why don't you fuck me right now, here on this carpet?'

'That's exactly it!' -- Fabrizio exploded, his frustration finally giving into anger -- 'Because in the end you're like all the others! Fuck? Go fuck you yourself, Laurent! I thought you were different, despite having already known your fame through the publicity of your "Dark Room" exhibition... All this hipocrisy about lamas and meditation... Whom are you trying to fool?'

'Are we talking here about my professional reputation, Fabrizio?' -- I dared him --' In the Art market or in the meat market?'

'To me, the two seem inseparable... aren't they?' -- Fabrizio sustained his aggressivity.

'You know...' -- I sighed, exhaling deeply , letting go of a part of my anger -- '...the disappointment is all mine, Fabrizio. I wouldn't have imagined that you were actually capable of betraying your fiancée... although, yes...' -- I was tired of lies; I had decided to be thoroughly honest with him and with myself -- '... like a teenager I have come here hoping to get at least one kiss from you... You know, I would have left your apartment singing hymns, with at least one kiss from you... But unlike you, and what Andrea says, I would never cheat on anyone. I had only one boyfriend for eight years and, unlike you, I never cheated him. Not once! You don't have to believe me. Alright!' -- I made a gesture asking him to let me continue, when he was about to interrupt me -- 'I will not deny what they say on the internet about me. It actually helps to sell my paintings, you know?' -- I smiled. I could have stopped there, but my heart wanted to burst, bleeding for justice -- 'After that eight years relationship ended, I decided to be loyal only to myself. I never had any serious relationship since then. I never committed myself to not betraying anyone anymore. Why? Because I am commited to no one except to myself. I won't betray or distort my desire, nor betray or distort my freedom. Do you understand what I've said? I never cheated, Fabrizio, neither my boyfriend nor myself. Not even once. And I think I'll die like this, because betrayal and cheating is below my character. But you will never experience this from me, Fabrizio, because I will not risk being cheated by you, not even once... I'm so sorry for Andara. I was often cheated by my boyfriend, and after it ended, I have participated in many betrayals. But it's over now. I also regret that I have given you the impression that you could cheat on her with me.' -- and I knew it was time to be silent and leave. The strong wind was so annoying, my heart helplessly responding to each hard blow against the windows.

'Never, Laurent!' -- Fabrizio seemed to have calmed down after my speech -- 'I never meant to cheat Andara with you. I'll never repeat that, as long as I live. It's the kind of thing that erodes a relationship. And if you could please stop repeatedly mentioning my one fault. I confided it to you because... I don't know. I have no idea why. I had never told anyone before. Or rather, I know it... At this moment in my life... for me to make the crossing... so that I even get into the boat... I wanted somebody calling me from the other margin, on the other side of the river...'

I had goosebumps when I heard Fabrizio using that analogy so dear to Buddhism, the crossing to the other margin, from suffering to enlightenment, in regard to his own life. 

Again, I thought that no other man had approached my heart like Fabrizio. 

But it was too late -- in that evening and in life, and I had decided to leave.

'Where are you going, Laurent?' -- he had jumped from his chair, startled, when I had stand up and started walking towards the door.

'You know, I thought that our meeting would be the definite one in this life.' -- I had decided to leave silently, since I owed Fabrizio no further explanations -- 'I really felt it, Fabrizio!' -- in fact, I still felt like it, but I was not going to confess it -- 'But just like you had imagined you couldn't trust me, because you thought I was so frivolous, unworthy of your trust... and now you... we discover otherwise... I came here tonight thinking that you were the most trustworthy man, to find that it is not so... We were wrong from the very start! That's why there won't be any start for us!' -- I could not help but again point his fault, that same one he had thought to be a characteristic of mine. Betrayal was a topic that tortured and anguished me, for it was not simply a topic for me, but it had been my painful experience. 

And Fabrizio had stirred a lot of suffering, rejection and resentment in me.

'No. Don't even stand up Fabrizio. Enjoy that view... the rain is finally arriving.' -- the first, thick drops of rain where splatering the windows -- 'Storms must be so beautiful to watch from your apartment... No, please stay there!' -- I almost shouted, as I saw him moving toward me -- 'I can leave on my own, just like I entered.' -- and even without running, in an instant I had reached the door.

'Funny...' -- suddenly, an idea had occurred to me -- 'Since I met you at the airport, I have never had sex with anyone. I didn't know what had led me to this spontaneous chastity. But now I realize it... Thinking of you was enough to end my loneliness, like sex never succeeded in doing. Agnon in the place of sucking, Malpertuis instead of rimmimg, Richter but no fucking...' -- suddenly, my body was awake again, and I felt sexy as I saw myself going out again into Vice City's night -- 'Today, however, the loneliness begins again.' -- and my sex life too, I thought,

'Buona notte, Fabrizio.' -- I said with my best accent. I was clearly choosing not to even be his friend, as I usually did with most of my ex-lovers -- 'A-non-rrivederci!'

That evening, I had hit Fabrizio hard, and I had hit him deep.

At first, he had been disappointed by his own judgement about what he had perceived being my faulty behavior and frivolous character, but at last, he had felt embarrassed about himself.

He would later tell me that, having gone up to his room and coming across Richter's painting, he had begun to cry.

And he hadn't managed to stop crying before he finally fell asleep, exhausted.

He had just understood that he would have to undertake his personal crossing all on his own, and could not count on me nor anyone.

Just by looking at the paintings by Richter, Soulages and Serra, he continuously recalled me. Even when Andara was in the apartment, I was also there, always there. Right behind their bed, on the wall, there was Richter, and Richter was me. According to Fabrizio, I never left his house, and his heart, and even if upon getting to the other margin he would not find me there anymore, he still wanted to make the crossing.

From my part, I felt ashamed at my outburst, and I had been saddened with my lack of understanding for Fabrizio's pain, and for having instilled in him an even greater guilt and shame.

I thought maybe everything would have been different if I had concentrated on his suffering, instead of abandoning myself to my own. I still lacked so much understanding, and compassion, and generosity.

But later, together, we also reached the conclusion that, had we become friends, maybe he hadn't performed his personal crossing.

If we had become friends, we might never have become lovers.

I had to go away from him to be able to find him next to me.

And Fabrizio had to lose himself, to conquer me for the rest of our lives.

 NEXT CHAPTER

the last two sentences were inspired in Lhasa de Sela's beautiful song

Pa' llegar a tu lado

if you'd like learn more about the visual artists mentioned in this and other chapters, please refer to
My Notebook. 

To listen to the music mentioned, please go to Soundtrack.