The Stars That Tremble (17 page)

“Seven o’clock.”

“Yes. Listen, I’m at a job right now, so I need to—”

“Oh, yes. I’m at work also. I didn’t mean to keep you. We’ll catch up tomorrow.
Ciao
, Mike.”

Mike slipped his phone back in his pocket and felt a wave of sadness. Hearing Gio’s voice reminded him of all he’d stepped away from. He had definitely missed Gio, missed seeing him and speaking to him regularly, but he didn’t know what to do or say anymore.

He finished up, said good-bye to his clients, and went outside. He’d been hoping to walk home through Central Park, but it really was oppressively hot. He walked a block and caught the bus instead. He came home to an empty apartment—Emma had texted him about an hour before to say she and Isobel were going to the movies—and it was a relief in a way, because he needed a few minutes alone to sort out his thoughts.

He thought of Evan. Falling in love with Evan had been so easy. They’d come from the same place, were cut from the same cloth. Well, Evan had grown up in the shadow of Wrigley Field in Chicago, but it might as well have been South Brooklyn for all their childhoods had been alike. They related to each other because of their similarities and mutual attraction, and though they’d had to sneak around in the early months of their relationship, once they were in New York and everything was out in the open, it had been… easy.

He supposed loving Gio could be that easy too, but it felt more complicated, more tangled.

Mike walked over to where Evan’s picture hung on the wall. He reached over and touched Evan’s likeness briefly. “You’ve been gone for a long time,” he said. Evan had been on his mind a lot in the last couple of weeks too, probably mostly because of Emma’s success. It was hard to let go of the idea that Evan should have been there to witness everything Emma did. He should have known, too, that Evan could never stay out of Mike’s romantic relationships. “Emma, she’s the most important thing. If getting involved with Gio does anything to affect Emma, I don’t know if I could….” He shook his head. “Am I being ridiculous? Are my fears unfounded? Is it just because I’m older now? Because I have Emma to look out for? Because meeting you absolutely changed my life, and I think being with Gio is changing me too, but I don’t know if I can do it. I don’t know if I can be a part of his world. I don’t know if I can be with him if Emma isn’t 100 percent on board. I just don’t know.”

He closed his eyes and reached out. He leaned on the wall for a moment. “I’ve just barely been holding things together since you left. Now what do I do? Do I love this man and risk everything? Do I let him love me? What should I do, Evan? What should I do?”

Mike knew he wouldn’t get an answer, but that didn’t make it any less frustrating when the silence was broken by the front door banging open. Emma walked in and dropped her handbag on the couch.

“Hi, sweetie,” Mike said. He was seized by an overwhelming urge to hug her, but wondered if she would think that was weird.

“Hi. Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine. How was the movie?”

“Good, but kind of dumb. Izzy thought this one actor, I can’t think of his name, was kind of hot, but I don’t know.” She giggled. “Then we went to Starbucks and I had a latte, so now I’m all wired. I’m also starving.”

“Oh, good.” Mike walked into the kitchen to survey possible dinner offerings. “Are leftovers okay?”

“Is there any of that lasagna left?”

“Yup. Probably enough for both of us.”

“Then that’s good.”

Emma sat at the table while Mike heated up dinner. She rambled on about the movie, although Mike only half listened. He was preoccupied now with the impending dinner with Gio.

He slid the lasagna on plates and put one in front of Emma. Without even thinking about it, he poured her a glass of diet soda, and had a flashback of pouring her glasses of milk as she sat in her high chair at this same table in the apartment he’d shared with Evan. Now she drank lattes and went to the movies on her own. He shook his head as he sat at the table.

“Seriously, Daddy. Are you okay?”

“Yeah.” Then he figured he might as well have it out. “Gio invited me to dinner tomorrow night. So you’ll be on your own.”

“You want me to go to Izzy’s?”

“Is that okay? Or maybe you could go to Aunt Becky’s? She’s been nagging me about seeing you because she was sorry she had to work during your workshop show.”

“Yeah, I guess that’s okay.”

“Are you still upset about me dating Gio?”
Might as well be direct
, Mike reasoned.

“It’s not that I was upset. It’s just… it’s still kind of weird. Is it, like, serious?”

“I don’t know.” Well, it was serious, or Mike’s feelings about Gio certainly were, but he still couldn’t decide if he should commit to the relationship or not.

She nodded. “What about lessons and stuff? Everyone keeps saying I’ll get into the Young Musicians Program, so if that happens and Gio wants to be my teacher, is that going to be weird? With you and him?”

“I don’t know that either. I guess we have some things to work out.” Not that he was asking her permission; it struck him suddenly that this was an entirely inappropriate conversation to be having with his daughter. “Eat your lasagna.”

She rolled her eyes. “Yes,
Dad
.”

M
IKE
’
S
body language practically screamed that he didn’t want to be there. He sat in a chair across the table from Gio, his posture stiff, his shoulders tight. He mostly looked at the table.

“This is a nice restaurant,” Mike told his wineglass.

“Yes, one of my favorites. The chef once worked at one of the finest restaurants in Perugia. That restaurant was exclusive, almost impossible to get a table. I ate there once when I was, ah, in my midtwenties, when my career was just taking off. They wanted to have
la voce di un angelo
eat at this restaurant.” Gio chuckled. “Anyway. My friend Dacia knows Paolo. He owns the place and is the head chef. I recommend the seafood especially. He’s a real wizard with shellfish, and they get everything fresh.”

This didn’t hearten Mike much. He continued to stare forlornly at the menu.

Gio reached across the table and cupped his hand around Mike’s wrist. “Is something wrong?”

“No.”

“Really,
caro
? Because you look so sad.”

Mike put the menu down and took a deep breath. “I don’t belong here.”

The waiter interrupted then. Gio ordered the seafood
fra diavolo
, his favorite thing on the menu. Mike ordered a steak.

So, all right. Mike was an all-American kind of guy who liked his meat and potatoes. Nothing wrong with that. Even if it bothered Gio a little that Mike hadn’t taken his recommendation.

“Mike,” Gio said when the waiter was gone, “please talk to me.”

Mike continued to frown and look at the table. After a long moment of silence, he said, “It’s stupid.”

“It’s not stupid. If something is wrong, I want you to tell me.”

Mike nodded. “It’s just… it’s a lot of things. I play worst-case scenario a lot in my head, you know? My daughter is the most important thing in my world. The Olcott School, Juilliard, singing opera, all of it is her dream. You stand in a position to help her get there, to make her dreams come true. But if I fuck things up with you, will I ruin her chances for the future she wants?”

“You couldn’t possibly. She’s too talented for—”

Mike held up his hand. “You say that, but say we break up. Say it’s nasty and bitter. Say you’re so angry with me you can’t even see straight. Maybe you don’t intend to sabotage Emma, but looking at her every day reminds you of me, and maybe you stop giving her extra attention. Maybe you forget to fill out a form or something. Maybe you unwittingly sabotage her because you’re upset with me.”

That wounded Gio, insulted him. Anger bubbled up at the accusation of potential sabotage, as if Gio would ever stoop so low. And that was not to mention Mike’s pessimism. He was already writing their ending. “Or maybe you and I live happily ever after.”

Mike laughed softly and shook his head. “No. I don’t believe in happily ever after. I thought I had that once, but it was taken from me. There are no happy endings, Gio.”

Gio sat forward a little, frustrated by Mike’s attitude. He’d always been a bit of a romantic, he thought, so he always hoped for a happy ending in his future. He understood Mike’s skepticism, but it was still upsetting to hear it voiced so unequivocally. It made him feel sad for Mike that Mike didn’t have that hope.

“So, fine, no happy ending. But what if you and I spend the next thirty years together?”

Mike squirmed in his chair a little. “I’m not sure… that is, when Emma found out about us, she was clear that this relationship between us could not interfere with her ambitions. I told her she didn’t get a say in my personal life, but if this directly affects her, that’s a different situation. The more I think about it, the more I think that takes priority.”

Why was this conversation like so many insect stings? All of it felt like tiny needles poking against Gio’s skin. He understood what Mike was saying, but he also had more hope for them than that. “So you would end something really wonderful happening between us just because you’re worried about the small chance that we break up and I take out my anger at you on Emma? That’s ridiculous. We’re adults.”

“I know, but all these scenarios play out in my head in which Emma gets the short end of the stick because you and I are at odds, and that’s not fair to her. I have to put her first.”

Was Mike trying to end things? It wasn’t at all clear. Gio certainly did not want to end their relationship. “Is that what you’re worried about? Because let me assure you, Emma is one of the most amazing talents any of the faculty at Olcott have seen in a generation. Everyone was abuzz about her after the final show. I want her to succeed as much as anyone. So I promise, if something goes wrong with you and me and I feel I can no longer be her best advocate, I will step back. Any number of teachers on that faculty would be a wonderful mentor for her.”

Mike picked up his knife, turned it in his hands, and put it back down. “That’s kind of you. Very levelheaded.”

“Yes, well. I may be an artist, but I can be practical as well. And you,
caro mio
, are acting strangely tonight. You’re already running the worst-case scenario on our relationship but fail to see the best case. There is something here. I do not think even you can deny that. I like you and I care about you.”

Mike smiled faintly and nodded. “I care about you too.”

“So what’s the problem?”

They received bread and the appetizer Gio had ordered, a cheese plate. Mike sat patiently while the waiter explained what each cheese was and which region of Italy it had come from. The plate also had a few thin slices of soppressata and prosciutto. Gio didn’t need it all explained to him—he could have easily identified each item on the plate—and he wanted to shoo the waiter away so that he could get Mike to keep talking. And yet Mike hung on the waiter’s every word, and as soon as the waiter departed, he picked up a knife and took a small slice of cheese.

“It’s not just Emma, though, is it?” Gio asked. “What did you mean before when you said you don’t belong here?”

“I didn’t know until two minutes ago that people even made cheese from sheep’s milk.”

“All right.”

“You are a part of a world that knows about fine things like opera and fashion and fancy food. I’m from South Brooklyn. I know rock music and comfortable blue jeans and pizza.”

Gio didn’t understand what Mike was trying to say. “What does that matter?”

“I don’t belong with you, Gio. I’m not part of the world you live in. I… I work for people like you. I’m not an equal.”

Gio suddenly understood Mike’s recent silence. The inferiority complex, that wasn’t something Gio expected from a man who seemed so unself-conscious.

“I don’t care about that. Those things are superficial,” Gio said.

“Worst-case scenarios—that’s what I do. All the time, in my head, I’m imagining the worst. What I imagine with you sometimes is that you take me to some dinner party where all everyone knows is wine and, hell, sheep cheese, and I know nothing about these things. I know about tile and grout. I know about plumbing and carpentry. I can fix your sink or help you choose a good paint color for your living room. But all I really know about wine is that it comes in white or red. I like nice restaurants, and I’m sure the food here is great, but at the end of the day? I’m more comfortable eating takeout with Emma in our living room, you know? This?” He lifted his finger and spun it around, indicating the room. “This is not me. This is not my world. But it is your world, and I can’t help but think that we just don’t belong in the same spaces.”

Gio understood Mike enough to know that simple denial would not be enough to dissuade him from his opinion. “Do you know who my last boyfriend was?” he asked.

Mike raised an eyebrow. “How on earth would I know that?” He sampled a piece of the sheep’s milk cheese. “Hey, this is pretty good.”