A White Coat Is My Closet (28 page)

“I’m not sure that’s always the case. I can think of a few things I like by themselves but that would offend each other if served on the same plate.”

“Like what, for example?”

“I don’t know.” Sergio swirled the wine around in his glass contemplatively. “Like, for example….” He shifted his focus away from his glass and looked at me. “Like Italians and Americans. They’re unlikely to make a palatable combination.” He chuckled softly.

I smiled too. “I beg to differ. Sometimes combining ethnicities produces amazing results. Almost like the sum of the two parts is greater than the whole.” I began to bring my glass of wine toward my mouth. I wanted to hide my smile. “Take us, for example. I can say with certainty that when I’m with you, parts of me get bigger.” I took a quick sip to try to stifle my laugh.

Sergio held my gaze without wavering. “We might have to put the theory to a test later this evening.”

The meal was extraordinary, each subsequent course better than the previous. The fagioli soup was incredible, and because it came from his grandmother’s recipe, it prompted more stories about his youth in Italy. We laughed easily, and though our childhoods had been vastly different, we found we actually had a lot in common. We compared notes on our relationships with our siblings and were empathetic to one another about how it felt to be a middle child.

In addition, Sergio discussed what it was like being gay in a conservative Catholic country and why it felt liberating for him to come to the United States. His contention was that though culturally Italians were a warm, accepting, and tolerant people, being gay wasn’t well accepted socially. Religious sentiments still heavily influenced societal thinking, so being gay was generally considered to be taboo. It was common knowledge that men could have sex with each other in secret, but in order to maintain social status, it was important that they be married to women. You could be gay, and you could discreetly have sex with men; you just couldn’t live with your partner.

Even as a young man, this situation had caused Sergio significant conflict. It wasn’t that he’d felt compelled to flaunt his sexuality in other peoples’ faces, he’d just had a strong personality. He’d refused to alter who he was in order to fulfill someone else’s expectations of who he should be. I admired his strength of character.

The pasta and the veal were also delicious. So good, in fact, that I pretty much exceeded my capacity. By the time I took my last bite of veal, I could hardly move. I was certain if someone even looked at me wrong, my stomach would revolt and the entire five-course meal would surge forth like the launch of the space shuttle. I pushed my chair back, stretched my legs, and gently rubbed my stomach. “How could you let me eat so much? This is torture. It was too good. I’m suffering, here. Now I know what a beached whale feels like. They probably purposefully throw themselves onto the sand to do penance for eating too much veal scaloppini.” I looked up at Sergio and smiled but continued to rub my stomach. “Until this moment, I didn’t even realize whales ate veal scaloppini.” I closed my eyes again and moaned.

Sergio just laughed. “I’ll take your pain as the ultimate compliment. Does this mean that you want to hold off a few minutes before dessert?”

Startled by the question, my eyes flew open, only to find Sergio smiling at me. I relaxed and scooted down in the chair a little farther to rest my head against its back. I closed my eyes and locked my fingers protectively over my stomach. “Two minutes, then I’ll be ready to devour half that carton of gelato.” I opened one eye and looked at him. I let a hint of a smile creep across my face. “Better make that five minutes. A couple pints of pistachio will require a little more room than I can currently accommodate.”

He laughed again and gently slapped my thigh. “That’s okay. We aren’t in any hurry. Let’s go relax in the living room. You’ll be more comfortable. I’ll make some cappuccino to have with our dessert.”

I rolled out of the chair, stood on shaky legs, and began to navigate toward the living room. I swore I had gained five pounds. Just walking the short distance seemed akin to trying to push a huge shipping barge through a narrow channel. “Better make mine decaf. If I drink regular this late in the evening, I’ll be up all night.”

Sergio looked at me with a seductive smile. “That’s the idea.” He winked, but fortunately he turned his head before he could see me blush. To my great embarrassment, not all the blood went into my cheeks. The majority of it went directly to my groin. Now, closing the distance between me and the couch became even more of a challenge.

I sat down and leaned against the soft, welcoming cushions. No sooner had I settled in than another moan escaped my lips. “Ah! Better! It’s like sitting on a cloud. Now I know what heaven must feel like.” I watched Sergio again busying himself in the kitchen. “If you need any help in there, just holler. I can be over in no less than thirty minutes.” Sergio’s smile from across the room encouraged me to continue. “You know, if your intention was to take advantage of me, you didn’t have to incapacitate me first. I would have come along willingly. Stuffing me with food to prevent me from being able to move was unnecessary. I had no intention of trying to run.”

“Hey. No one forced you to have two helpings of pasta. That was your choice. Don’t they feed you at the hospital? You either really liked my cooking, or you haven’t eaten in a week.”

I laughed. “Yeah, they feed us. But, compared to what I just finished, I’m not even sure what they serve us is real food. You really outdid yourself.” My smile broadened. “At least in the cooking department. In the eating department, I’m clearly the champion.” I paused and let my head fall back onto the cushion. “And now I’m hating you for it.”

He ceased his cappuccino preparation and came over and sat next to me on the couch. “Don’t be a hater.” He smiled. “I don’t intend to attack you until you’ve fully recovered.” He laughed as he pulled me toward him so I was leaning against his chest. He began to massage my shoulders. “Assuming you can recover within, say, the next half hour. Any longer than that and I refuse to be held responsible for what I might do to you.”

I smiled without opening my eyes. “Man, you keep those fingers moving and my recovery time will be reduced to about four seconds. Not sure why, but in your arms, even having a full stomach is an aphrodisiac.”

He kissed the top of my head and continued to knead my shoulders with his strong fingers. “You just relax. We have all the time in the world. We’re not in the hospital. There’s nowhere you need to be, nothing you have to be doing. Talk to me. You said you had a tough week. What’s going on?”

I felt myself melting into his caresses. “A lot of the same old, same old. Sick kids, difficult parents, demanding attendings.” I was quiet for a minute. “There is this one kid, though. He’s really special.” I quickly clarified, “Don’t get me wrong. I went into pediatrics because I pretty much love all kids, but this one has really gotten to me. He has a really aggressive cancer, and every minute of his hospital admission has been an uphill climb. Right now, he’s having to endure really kick-ass chemo. The intent is to shrink his tumor to a smaller size so it can be surgically removed. Then, about the time he begins to recover from that operation, the fun really begins. He has to go through even more potent chemo in anticipation of a bone marrow transplant.”

I opened my eyes and looked back at Sergio. His expression was caring and sympathetic. I dropped my hand so I could gently stroke his leg as I continued sharing my impressions of Christopher. “There’s something about him, though. He’s only five, but he’s an old soul. He rarely complains, tries to remain upbeat, and is actually appreciative, even though 90 percent of the things we do to him contribute to his misery. He’s amazing. I’m not even sure he fully realizes how serious his situation is, but he has a way better attitude than almost any adult would have in similar circumstances.” As I thought about Christopher, a smile crept across my face. “The kid loves superheroes. I was telling my friend Declan that on the day Christopher was admitted, he was wearing a Superman costume. He flew around the nurses’ station. He won my heart the minute he consented to teach me to fly. I can’t explain it. I’m drawn to that kid. He’s courageous and loving—qualities admired in the best of mankind.”

Sergio worked his hands from my shoulders to my neck. When he didn’t interrupt, I kept talking. “I’d love for you to be able to meet him. Three minutes in the same room with him, and you feel like your life has been forever changed.” I let out a soft chuckle. “He even made Peggy Wang smile, and that’s pretty damned impossible. When my workload allows it, I spend as much time with him as possible. Well,” I said, laughing a little more, “with him and Yogi.” I again looked back and tried to catch Sergio’s gaze. “Yogi is his teddy bear. He and Christopher are inseparable.” When Sergio shook his head and smiled to indicate that he understood the importance to the relationship, I continued. “So, Christopher and Yogi and I do puzzles, watch superhero movies, or color in coloring books. I tell myself I’m doing all this for his benefit, but truthfully, I think spending time with Christopher makes me a better person. Sometimes I think I’m getting more out of it than he is.”

Sergio dropped his hands to around my waist and hugged me fiercely. “I wouldn’t bet on it, Zack. Somehow, I suspect a lot of the kid’s courage comes from knowing you care. Your caring is genuine, heartfelt, and powerful. Kids sense that. I guarantee you that you’re making a tremendous impact on him simply by being who you are.” Sergio hugged me tighter and placed a soft kiss against my neck. “He’s got a smart doctor and a loving guy taking care of him. That combination has to improve his condition.” He kissed me again. “I know it improves mine.” I felt his lips form a smile against my skin.

I laughed softly. “You’re looking for a smart doctor?”

He stopped massaging my neck and gently whacked my head. “Yeah, that’s it. I’m so transparent. I needed to meet someone with access to a prescription pad.” He laughed softly and let his hands again drop to my shoulders. “For me, the doctor part is a bonus. As for you being a loving guy? Why do you think I’ve tried to seduce you with my cooking?”

I started laughing too. “Haven’t we now come full circle? What do I have to say to convince you that you could have seduced me with a package of ramen noodles?

“You’re that easy?”

“I didn’t say I was easy. I just love chop suey.” I turned my body so I could rest my cheek against his chest. “As long as it’s prepared by a good-looking Italian artist.”

He ran his hand through my hair. “Well, I’m glad to hear you at least have high standards.”

He gently pushed me forward so he could stand up. “You sit tight. I’m gonna scoop up a small portion of gelato for us and finish making the cappuccino.” He must have seen me grimace at the prospect of putting any more food into my stomach, because he laughed and slapped my leg. “I said a small portion, and besides, everyone knows that gelato aids in digestion. In this case, eating dessert will actually make you feel better. Just lie down here and relax.” He fluffed one of the cushions and propped it against the arm of the couch. “Besides, you don’t have to be hungry for at least another five minutes. It’s going to take that long to prepare. By that time, you’ll be ready to have an entire second meal.”

I just groaned in response. I closed my eyes until my curiosity was piqued by hearing a strange sound emanating from the kitchen. I opened my eyes to investigate what Sergio was doing. I was astonished to discover that he had what appeared to be a professional-grade espresso maker and he was swirling a small metal pitcher under the steamer to heat the milk. The steamer sounded like a low-pitched train whistle blowing in the distance. Inexplicably, the prospect of hot cappuccino and homemade gelato awakened my taste buds and made me feel suddenly capable of incredible feats of power eating.

I sat up on the couch and spoke loud enough for him to hear me over the sound of steamer. “That’s quite a machine. Did you steal it from the restaurant?”

He smiled over his shoulder. “A good friend of mine is part owner of an Italian restaurant on Melrose. He knows a distributor who imports espresso machines from Italy. My friend pulled some strings and was able to get this one for me wholesale. It’s the small size, for domestic use.”

“You could have fooled me. With all those buttons and gauges, it looks more like the inside of a cockpit. You sure you know how to drive that thing?”

He nodded smugly. “Better than a fighter pilot. We’ll see if you have any doubts about my flying ability after you taste this.” By this time he was tilting the metal pitcher and pouring steamed milk over the espresso he had already made. Just as he was completing the pour, I saw him shake the pitcher gently. Then he put two cups, along with the bowls of gelato, on a tray and carried them over to where I was sitting.

Sure enough. When I looked into the cups, I saw that the foam from the steamed milk formed the pattern of a perfect leaf. I looked up and smiled. “I was going to ask if you had any sweetener to stir into it, but it seems a shame to ruin the beautiful presentation.”

“The best part of the presentation is your enjoyment.” He lifted the lid off a bowl of sugar cubes. “One lump or two?” His smile was both captivating and seductive.

“Just one lump.” I smiled as I reached for the spoon to stir it into my cappuccino. “Why do you think I’ve eaten so little this evening? I’m watching my waistline.” My grin broadened. “Or more accurately, why do you think I had to loosen my belt already? Two lumps and I’d have to take my pants off entirely.”

Sergio didn’t even respond initially. He just lifted the lid that covered the sugar cubes, grabbed one on the end of the spoon, and held it out in front of me. “If that’s the case, I’ll have to insist on two. Those pants are coming off sooner or later anyway.” He held my gaze as if his suggestion was intended only to be helpful. His mouth worked its way into a smile, however, when, before waiting for my response, he just dropped another cube into my cup. “It’s a little strong. The cappuccino and the evening will go down smoother with one more lump.” When he finished stirring mine, he lifted his cup to his lips, then asked innocently as he smiled around the rim, “What? I only want you to enjoy”—he took a sip before he finished the sentence—“the cappuccino.”