(Blue Notes 2)The Melody Thief (25 page)

C
ONFESSIONAL

“
C
AN we talk?” Cary asked Antonio as they sat out on the balcony eating breakfast. He’d been meaning to talk to Antonio for several days, but they’d rarely been without Cary’s father or Massimo, and a string of late nights had left them with little time alone other than to sleep. That, and he was afraid to talk. Afraid to admit he’d overheard his father and Antonio talking in the kitchen. Afraid Antonio would be angry with him. Afraid of what Antonio had meant when he’d said he feared losing Cary to himself.

“Of course.” Antonio refilled their coffee cups, then topped them off with hot milk. “Is John still asleep?”

“I think so.” Cary chuckled, trying to act as though nothing was different between them. “He’s definitely not an early riser. I must have inherited that from my mom.”

“Are you enjoying his visit?”

“Yeah. Funny, isn’t it? I’m starting to think I’ll actually miss him when he leaves on Sunday.”

Antonio’s answer surprised Cary. “Of course you would,” he said evenly. “He’s your father.”

Cary looked down at his plate and smiled. “Yeah.”

“So what did you want to talk to me about? It sounded important.”

Shifting in his seat, Cary began, “I… I’m thinking about asking John to stay a little longer. Only if it’s all right with you, I mean,” he added hastily.

Please. Tell me what happened between you two.

“I see.”

“It’s been really good, getting to know him. And I thought a little longer might be nice.” Cary ran a hand through his damp hair and looked out over the small piazza below the building.

“Did he suggest this?”

“Yeah. I mean, he didn’t want to force it on me or anything, but….” He stopped when he saw the hard expression on Antonio’s face. “But if you’re uncomfortable with that,” Cary continued quickly, “I understand.”

Please. Tell me.

Antonio rubbed the bridge of his nose, then pursed his lips. “I had hoped this might go differently,” he said with a gentle sigh.

Cary tried to look surprised. “What do you mean?”

“I’d prefer he not stay.”

For a moment, Cary said nothing.
Deep breath.
“Why not?”

“I don’t think it’s a good idea.”

“I don’t understand. Why wouldn’t it—”

The glass door to the living room opened, and John stepped out onto the balcony. “Sorry,” he said with a yawn, “I didn’t realize it was so late. Mind if I join you for breakfast?”

“Not at all,” Antonio said as he sprang to his feet. “I was about to leave for work. Please, take my chair.”

“Are you sure?” asked John.

“Absolutely.” Antonio turned to Cary and said, “I hope you enjoy your day. Francesca’s taking Massi to his grandmother’s, so there’s no need to pick him up at school.”

Cary opened his mouth to speak, but Antonio had already walked into the apartment and shut the door behind him.

“Did I interrupt something?” John asked, looking a bit shamefaced. “I didn’t mean—”

“It’s nothing.” Cary stared at the glass doors in shock. “It wasn’t important.”

C
ARY finished practicing around one o’clock, then straightened the apartment up, popping some of Massimo’s clothes into the wash. It was Roberta’s day off, and he knew she’d appreciate the head start. Cary found he actually liked to help clean the apartment when he had the time, a fact that surprised him.

“Sorry,” John said as he strode into the apartment a few minutes later. “I got a little lost.”

“No problem.” Cary, dressed in sweats, now lay on the floor with his hands behind his neck. “I thought I’d do a few crunches while I had the chance. If you want to go out, I can shower and—”

“I’m good,” John interrupted as he pulled off his jacket and sat down heavily on the couch.

“Something to drink?”

“Something cold. Beer, if you’ve got it.”

“Sure.” Cary got up off the floor and went to the kitchen, wiping his forehead with a towel as he walked. He tossed the towel onto a chair, then opened the refrigerator and poked about, looking for the bottles he had seen Roberta put inside the day before. There were none.

A vague thought crossed Cary’s mind. Something he felt he was missing. And then it was gone, and he just rubbed his eyes and stuck his head into the living room. “No beer. Pellegrino?”

John hesitated. “Nah. I’ll make myself some coffee while you take your shower.”

Half an hour later, Cary emerged from the shower, toweling off his hair. John was closing one of the cabinets in the living room, his coffee sitting on the table. “There’s enough for you, if you want. On the stove.”

“Thanks.” Cary noted with some surprise the unique scent of cognac on the air as he walked into the kitchen. David’s cognac. He frowned, then, deciding he had imagined it, poured himself some coffee and joined his father on the couch.

“Find what you were looking for at the store?”

“I got a few knickknacks to bring home. Promised my neighbor I’d find a snow globe for his collection,” he explained. “The clerks at the first few stores I went to looked at me like I was crazy, but I finally found it near the train station.”

As Cary sat down, a photograph on the side table caught his eye: a photo of him and Antonio in Switzerland with Massimo perched atop his father’s shoulders. Smiling. All of them.

He sighed. Audibly, apparently, because John asked, “You all right?”

“Did something happen between you and Tonino?” Cary hadn’t meant to voice the question, but he needed to know. If he couldn’t learn the truth from Antonio, maybe John would tell him.

“Like what?”

“I don’t know… it’s just that I mentioned I wanted you to stay, and he seemed….” Cary struggled for a word to convey his concern but not put the blame on Antonio. “Uncomfortable with it.”
Not really uncomfortable. Adamant, really.

“I’m sorry,” John said. “I’m getting in the way of your relationship, aren’t I?” He finished his coffee and set it back on the table.

“No, that’s not it,” Cary protested. “It’s just that—”

“It’s okay, son. Really.” John’s smile appeared forced “We have this time together. And you’ll be back to New York to play in the fall. I understand he wants you for himself.”

The words took Cary aback. Did Antonio want him for himself? No, it made no sense.

That’s not Antonio. He’s not like that. Is he?

He was about to protest when the phone rang. “Excuse me,” he told John. “Georges said he’d call to discuss a Japanese tour for next year. I need to take this. We can talk some more tonight, over dinner.” But he knew they wouldn’t, not unless he brought it up. He didn’t want to; it was easier just to avoid the subject. It was also a mistake, and he knew it.

A
NTONIO looked up from his book and smiled as Cary walked into the bedroom. It was nearly six, and Roberta had left minutes before, having finished her marketing and set the table for dinner. “Back so soon?” he asked.

“Are you implying I’ve stayed out beyond my curfew again?” Cary snapped. “Because I wasn’t aware I had one.”

For the past three hours, he had been shopping with his father. With each passing hour, he had grown more and more irritated with Antonio. He was just about to explode.

“I didn’t mean to imply anything by it,” Antonio countered with a bewildered expression. “Where’s John?”

“Out.” The answer was clipped and barely civil. “He said he wanted to do a little shopping. You know, for gifts to bring home.”

“Oh.”

“Happy?”

“About what?” Antonio asked.

“That he’s leaving Sunday.” Cary folded his arms across his chest and stood with his back against the door.

“No. Not particularly.”

“Really? Because the way you’ve been acting, I find that hard to believe.”

“I’m sorry if I gave you that impression,” Antonio said with apparent regret. “It’s complicated. I didn’t mean—”

“What kind of impression did you expect me to get? You’ve told me you don’t want him to stay. What do you want me to think, Tonino?”

“It’s not a simple thing. It’s—”

“Complicated,” Cary finished. “Yeah, I know. You’ve told me. A bunch of times. But you see, if there’s something to understand, then it would be helpful if you’d fucking
explain
it to me. Don’t treat me like some kid and give me some bullshit.”

“I didn’t mean to… I don’t think you’re a child, caro—”

“Then stop treating me like one. And don’t call me that.” The words tumbled from his lips, unbidden. Until that moment, Cary hadn’t realized how truly angry he was.

“All right.” Antonio's tone was even and controlled, but Cary could see the tension in his body.

Cary strode across the room, stopped just shy of the bathroom, and rounded on Antonio. “Dammit, Tonino. I’m so pissed at you right now, I can’t even….” He took a deep breath, then blew air from between his tight lips. “I understand you might not tell Massi why he can’t do something, but this”—he fought the inclination to yell—“I… I don’t get it. You tell me you want my father to leave, and then you conveniently avoid telling me
why
.”

“It’s—”

“This has something to do with
him
, doesn’t it?” Cary interrupted. If he heard the word “complicated” one more time, he was sure he was going to scream.

He understood now. It was that word, “complicated,” that had jarred his understanding. He’d only heard Antonio use that word when he brought up the subject of Massi’s namesake.

“This has to do with Massimo. Your lover.”

“What?” Antonio’s startled expression told Cary he was spot on.

“That’s it, isn’t it? This has to do with
him
.” Even though he was angry, the stricken look on Antonio’s face made his stomach clench with guilt. He wanted to tell Antonio he was sorry, that he didn’t mean to hurt him. But he knew just as surely that he needed to confront the other man’s ghost.
They
needed to do it. Together.

Oh God. I love him so much.

The old fear was back again with a vengeance. Why would Antonio stay around for
this
? And if he knew Cary had eavesdropped on Antonio’s conversation with John…. But even as the thought crossed his mind, Cary’s anger flared once more.

“You
owe
me an explanation, Tonino. I know you don’t want to talk about it, but it’s making me crazy, this bullshit. You can’t have it both ways. You can’t drop these mega hints about John, then refuse to talk to me about why you want him to leave.” He sat down on the bed. “Please. Tell me. I don’t want to lose you.”

I
can’t
lose you. It would kill me.

For the first time since they’d met, Cary saw pain in Antonio’s eyes—not hidden beneath the usually controlled exterior but raw and pulsating there.

“You’re right.” Antonio’s voice was brittle with emotion. “I owe it to you. But I can’t tell you what to do.”

It had always been Antonio who had supported him; he had been the stronger one. But this time, it was Cary who moved to embrace Antonio, checking his anger long enough to regain control. “I love you.”

More than you know.

Antonio extricated himself from the embrace. His expression was tender, his eyes filled with tears. “It’s not my place to tell you what you should do. But I won’t have him here. I….”

“I’m listening.” Even as he spoke the words, Cary could already guess at what Antonio would say.

He’s not the only one who’s been avoiding things. This isn’t just about Massimo. It’s about John, and you know it.

Antonio’s bittersweet smile mirrored the profound pain in his eyes. “I was so young when I met Massimo. He was a professor at the university. He was nearly fifteen years older.” He sighed and pushed a stray lock of hair from his forehead.

“I knew I had to be with him. He was handsome, intelligent, and he had a wonderful sense of humor.” Antonio laughed softly. “He told me I was too young for him, and ignored me. Or, I should say, he
tried
to ignore me. I can be very persistent.”

Cary squeezed Antonio’s hand. “I know.”

“It took six months, but he finally went out with me. A few months later, we moved in together. People at school talked, but he had never been my teacher, so it died down pretty quickly. I graduated a few years later. Those first few years were some of the best of my life.

“He taught archeology, and I traveled with him when I wasn’t in school. We spent summers in Greece. A few years later, I started my law studies. At first I worried it would be difficult for him—I was so busy. But we were happy, even then.”

Cary swallowed hard. He wasn’t sure what part of this he didn’t want to hear. That Antonio had been happy with someone else? That he obviously still grieved the loss?

No. That’s not it, and you know it. This is about John and about what you yourself already suspect.

“Massimo’s sister became ill. She was young—not even your age—and he adored her. She was in and out of the hospital for more than a year. I watched what it did to him… and when she died… it nearly killed him too. I didn’t know what to do….” He stood up abruptly and walked to the window. “I should have noticed,” he said. “God, I should have seen it sooner. Maybe if I had….”

Cary got up from the couch and wrapped his arms around Antonio’s waist. He had never seen Antonio cry before. Strange, how it felt good to comfort him rather than to be the one receiving the comfort.

“It’s all right,” he said, unsure of what to say and just as sure he needed to say
something
.

“No. It’s not all right.” Antonio wiped his eyes and turned around to look directly at Cary. “Because I
knew
. All along. I saw the signs. The bottles of alcohol that disappeared. The way he would get drunk every time we went out to dinner. The way he acted at parties. How he would get angry with me about the smallest things.”

Now Cary was sure what this was leading up to, and he felt ill at the realization.