Finding the Thing Within (2 page)

***

“Mamma, what’s for dinner?”
“Potato casserole.”
“While you’re cooking, I’ll grab a shower.” “Going out?”
“Yes.”
“Again? You’ve been away all day!”
“That’s right I’ve been away all day; on business,

now I'm going out socially, if that’s ok with you?” he said, raising his voice.

“Yes of course, I meant…I just thought you could take down the rubbish bags.”
He had a shower and got ready for the night; he was as excited as a teenager getting ready for a date with a classmate.
“Mamma, I told you that I wanted a lot of onions in the casserole and there’s not enough oil.”
“But I put onion, over a quarter of one!”
“A quarter Mamma? A quarter’s not enough. I always told you that the onion’s the important thing giving flavor to a casserole. You should put a whole onion in!” His mother said nothing and started eating.
“And you didn’t let it cook long enough as usual, the meats hard!”
“I simmered it slowly, for nearly half and hour!”
“Half an hour? For the meat to be tender it has to cook for at least two hours or it’ll never be a good casserole!”
“Fine, you want me to waste two hours of constant gas for one plate of casserole?”
“Whatever you say, Mamma,” he finished eating and went out. He was cranky. More precisely, it had been his mother that had made him cranky. He didn’t have a great relationship with his mother, not that he didn’t love her, but since she had been left alone she had become oppressive and tried to chip away at his freedom.
“And don’t be too late, and take a jacket it’s still chilly outside, and when you come back, can you turn the key twice in the lock, you never can be too careful!”
He couldn’t take any of this. His mother still treated him like the child that he no longer was. Every one of his friends that knew him and of his situation, said, “When are you going to get a place of your own anyway? You can’t live with your mother at your age.”
He would have moved out, or rather he should have done fifteen years ago. Now it was too late. His mother could take care of herself, just not in everything. In her own way she looked after the house, slowly did a bit of cleaning, cooked and did his laundry; but for everything else, she relied on Rosario. He did the shopping, got her prescriptions from the doctor and took her to the cemetery to pray over his father’s tomb. All in all Mrs. Mollica was not entirely capable of taking care of herself, so like it or not, Rosario was burdened with the situation.

Part 2

He got to Politeama at twenty past nine and although Carmelo wasn’t there, he arrived shortly after. He was as beautiful as ever, smelling fresh and wearing a dark blue shirt and light grey trousers and from the slightly-open shirt sprouted forth those same little hairs he had seen in the trattoria. He was looking even hotter than he had that morning and he looked happy. For a moment Rosario looked at him and thought to himself; what is a young and beautiful boy, knowing me only since this morning, doing trusting a perfect stranger, a man much older who could just be anyone? He could have been a thief, serial killer, human trafficker. Who knows? At any rate, these thoughts, which Carmelo had probably not even considered, provided food for thought. He could have gone out with his friends, a twenty-year-old must have a lot of friends, and yet there he was, going out alone with a stranger.

“Where shall we go,” asked Rosario.
“Don’t know. You decide.”
“Mondello?”
“Mondello it is!”
The moon was almost full on the starry night sky

and the evening was perfect. The scent of
zagara,
orange blossom, hung in the air, reminiscent of the advance of spring. The roads were full of traffic as usual and many of the cars had two or more passengers, meaning that they were going out to have fun or to pass the evening at some friend's house. In Palermo the roads were always full of traffic, both during the day and at night: during the day, because people would drive to work instead of using public transport, and then again at night to go out with friends. Mondello was one of Palermo’s seaside areas near the port and had become famous when in the fifties the council had transformed it into the main beach of the Palermitans, who invade
en mass
in the hot summer.

Soon the beach would be further transformed with the setting up of hundreds of changing room cabins, covering the whole beach and the opening up of various bars in the little side streets. The best of these bars and restaurants, selling amazing seafood, would go on to flourish.

Along the sea-front, lots of people were walking, mostly couples holding hands and exchanging affections. Further away you could make out the young, courageous boys in the cold waves and a group of them sitting around an improvised fire on the sand. They were looking for what was always an unholy nightmare for anyone going to Mondello, a parking space. This time, though, they were lucky and spotted a car that was leaving. At Mondello this was really the only way to park, otherwise you could go around vainly scouring for free parking spaces for hours on end. They went straight to a bar and had the planned upon beer, then went for a stroll along the crowded sea-front, between stalls full of jewelry and souvenirs of uncertain origin. They decided, or rather Rosario decided, that it would be nice to look out at the view over Palermo from Monte Pellegrino.

Monte Pellergrino is a promontory that rises vertically 500 metres from Palermo and is the destination for many people from Palermo going to see the sanctuary of Saint Rosalie, the patron saint of the city. They would approach from the north and as they worked their way slowly upwards, the view would widen and become increasingly beautiful. First you see the dazzling reflected lights from the coast, then, getting close to 500 metres, the breathtaking view over the city opens up before you. Huge and beautiful Palermo majestically lit by constellations of colored lights.

Getting to the panorama point, they parked. All around were the usual parked cars full of couples exploiting their only real time alone together. Rosario turned off the engine and turned to look at Carmelo. Carmelo suddenly looked at him and broke the silence.”

“I’m not up for it. There are some things I’ve never done.” “What the hell are you talking about?”
“Right, well I’m not dumb, two men that come up

here just to look at the view...” he stopped abruptly. “So why didn’t you say anything till now?” “Let’s just say that I was curious to see how it

would all end up.”
“Some things, as you say, you’ve never done, but
you can always start, or at least try them. You can’t say
that you don’t like things, or that they gross you out till
you’ve tried them.”
And slowly he extended his hand lightly caressing
Carmelo’s, who immediately drew his away. Rosario
caught a tighter hold on his hand but said nothing. And he,
although still resisting, was no longer categorically refusing. Rosario was insanely horny and from his position was
uncomfortable, very uncomfortable, but continued. Gradually his hand slid down to Carmelo’s leg.
“Why do you want to do this,” Carmelo asked. “Because you’re gorgeous and I really like you.” “I like girls though.”
“Well, I like girls too,” he lied. “It’s just you make me
so horny.” His hand arrived down to the level of Carmelo’s
cock. Very gently, Rosario unbuttoned Carmelo’s fly, and
Carmelo didn’t protest. Then he took Carmelo’s hand and
took it down to his own groin. For a moment, for only a moment, Carmelo stiffened up again, then understanding that
Rosario wouldn’t let him remove his hand from there; continued. The boy did practically everything, and as the time
slowly passed, he was ever more relaxed and participating.
One thing he refused to do, he categorically refused to kiss
Rosario on the lips.
“It’s disgusting. Don’t ask any more of me. I’ve
already done something that I would have never thought
I’d do. Where’s my dignity?”
“What’s dignity got to do with any of this? This is
just what you do when you feel like it. You did it under no
duress from me, didn’t you?”
“Yeah, but…”
“If you hadn’t enjoyed it, you would not have got ex
cited, and you were, and how!”
“Yeah it’s true. I did it but I told you, it was just for
curiosity, don’t think it’ll ever happen again.”
“I told you just now, these are things you do if you
feel like it. So, if you feel like it again, you’ll do them again.
If you don’t, you won’t. You can’t say definitely now, don’t
you think?”
Carmelo didn’t answer and silence fell in the car. Rosario looked at the boy with that stunningly
handsome face, locked in a struggle between his socially-conditioned male pride and the hunger for different
types of experience. Rosario had known many like him, a
great many, and they all wanted this kind of experience because inside they all had some level of homosexual desire,
but they never wanted to be found out, or be considered
gay.
“Shall we go,” asked Carmelo.
“Ok. How are you feeling?”
“Dirty. I didn’t think I’d feel like this after.” “I think you feel dirty because you think that that’s
what you are, like a rape victim. You were hardly raped
though,” and he turned the key in the ignition. When he
was dropping Carmelo off, he said to him, “What’s your
phone number?”
“Why?”
“So we can stay in touch.”
“Ok but don’t phone tomorrow, I’m with Mirella.” Then he got out of the car.

Part 3

At eight o’clock on Wednesdays he had sessions at the gym, and that day he got there early. Rosario was always on time, but this time he had anticipated himself. He got on with the usual exercises, the same circuits and reps on the weights. Everything as usual but there was one thing different which made that evening special: the martial arts instructor was doing his lesson in the main gym at the same time as Rosario’s workout. The martial arts instructor was a twenty-seven year old man with a handsome face and a smoking-hot, toned physique. It was a shame about his nasty personality, but Rosario didn’t care much about that. He did care, however, about when they would all go into the changing rooms afterward, even the martial arts instructor.

“Jesus, I’m exhausted tonight.”
“What? You haven’t done that much.”
“Shut up Giuseppe, you don’t complain only because you come practically every night and your muscles are used to it. I only come three times a week, if that.”

Giuseppe really was a regular and whenever Rosario did go, he was always there and already had been for the previous two hours. He was a big, 25 year old guy with his chest and body packed with muscles. Now he was used to seeing him working out, but was still impressed from one time that he had seen him lie down and benchpress 120 kilos. Christ! He tried once to lift only about 45 kilos and his eyes were popping out and he was risking a hernia. The changing rooms faced each other and both had six showers. There was no special order and you went into whichever changing room was less crowded. So when Rosario wanted to see a particular guy naked he would come down and wait to see which changing room he chose, and follow. This was his favorite part of going to the gym.

The instructor came down and went into changing room 1 and Rosario followed. When he got inside though he was shocked to see that all the places were taken, and he had to go, with great annoyance, over to changing room 2. He was pissed off. He knew that this was the only day of the week that the martial arts lesson coincided with his workout, also explaining why he had arrived so early. It couldn't finish like this.

After letting a few minutes pass, he went back into the first changing room under the pretense of having left something there. After seemingly looking around and naturally finding nothing, he realized the martial arts instructor wasn't there either! He walked nonchalantly over to the showers, exchanged some words with some guys he knew from the gym; but still no instructor. He must have slipped away without showering and it dawned on Rosario that he would have to wait all week for the chance to see him naked again.

***

He got home around ten o’clock and after eating the dinner laid out by his mother, he went immediately online to check his post. His inbox held an email from Lorenzo:

“Ciao Rosario. I read your message and have to say was surprised by your age…I thought you were younger. But if you want, I’d like to talk, share our thoughts and maybe meet. I’m not at all feminine! Actually I’d say that I’m all man, I’m kidding. Anyway I want to talk to people like you, with your character and honesty… I'm waiting on your answer...oh and I’m going away but back Tuesday so i wont be able to answer you till then...bye. Lorenzo”

“Alright Lorenzo, we can get in contact next Tuesday. I am happy you don’t define yourself as effeminate. I think that if a man wants to go with a man it doesn’t make sense then that he should choose someone ladylike. Don’t you agree? Speak soon…Rosario”

Rosario was a lover of classical music and whenever he traveled by car he listened to his favorite songs. He enjoyed the greats like Beethoven, Mozart, Stravinsky and other Russian composers; and of course he loved the great Italian melodramas by Verdi, Puccini or Rossini. He was sitting in the car thinking of Tuesday, when he would speak again with Lorenzo. But he would have more to wait.

Tuesday came with no answer from Lorenzo. Only after he had messaged Lorenzo to ask for an explanation, did he finally get a reply:

“Yes Rosario, I did get back on Tuesday but I’m late answering you because I don’t think I know what you expect from this meeting (assuming sooner or later we’re going to meet up). I’m a bit confused by how you describe yourself and I think you might have ulterior intentions...I really don’t. Above all I just want to meet people that I can talk openly to… and I mean talk. I hold that what may eventually happen would involve many other factors. This should be clear to you. I don’t know what you think though...you could maybe tell me in your next mail.”

He was frustrated by this email, because he seemed to be a different boy to the usual, the kind that chats in a forum only to find someone to screw.

Although he didn’t know him he felt straight away that he could trust him. At any rate, he was intriguing.