The Stars That Tremble (19 page)

So they would make music together. Mike kissed Gio again and steered him toward the bedroom. A siren wailed outside and Mike was suddenly reminded of a symphony he’d heard at Emma’s urging that was supposed to recreate the sounds of the city. There were honking trumpets and clanging metallic drums, and those were the obvious sounds, but the city had its own sort of rhythm and music to it. For Mike, the sounds of the city were as steady as the thrum of the beat in the house music they played at his favorite dance clubs. The sounds he and Gio made as they kissed and maneuvered around the bedroom involved pounding heartbeats punctuated by sighs and groans. The city, the music of it, was about sirens and construction noises, yes, but it was about beauty and sex too. The music Mike and Gio made together would have to incorporate all of those things.

When they were naked and writhing together on the bed, the sound became stranger. Mike kissed Gio and rubbed against him, but then lifted his head. “What’s it called in music when two notes are played at the same time and they sound kind of harsh together?”

Gio furrowed his brow. “What are you… do you mean discordant?”

“Yes, discordant. I was thinking about us making music together, and I thought it must sound discordant.”

Gio put his fingers on Mike’s lips. “No,
caro
. We make beautiful, melodic, soulful music together.”

Mike laughed. “I didn’t mean it in a bad way. It’s like modern music. It sounds weird because we’re used to the way songs have always been, but the composer is creating something brand new, you know, so of course it will sound weird. But it’s beautiful in its way too.”

Gio smiled. “I like the way you think.”

“Mmm.” Mike kissed Gio. He pulled away slightly again. “I want you, Gio.”

“How do you want me?”

“Inside me. Always inside me. You… you fill up the silence in me.”

Mike was embarrassed by his clumsy attempt at poetry, but Gio’s lips parted and he blinked. “And you said you had no beautiful words.” Gio ran his hand down Mike’s cheek and smiled. “You are so much more than you realize. Let me show you.”

But Mike didn’t need demonstrations. He’d spoken his own sort of truth. He had dark spots in his psyche, holes in his heart, missing parts of his soul. He’d experienced enough loss and heartbreak to last anyone a lifetime. And yet something in Gio filled all those places in Mike, made him feel hope again for a happy future instead of resignation to the status quo. Mike likewise wanted to fill the empty places in Gio, give him the music he needed, the voice he’d lost. It was a difficult thing and Mike wasn’t sure he was up to the challenge, but he would give it his all.

Once Mike was ready for Gio, Gio lay on his back and stroked his cock. Mike rolled a condom on him and poured a generous amount of lube over it. Then he hovered over Gio, nipping at his lips, trying to let the anticipation build even more. Mike was hard, arousal zipping through his blood, through his system, but this was about more than just getting each other off. This was about creating a new sound together.

Mike positioned himself and sank onto Gio’s cock. Gio held Mike’s waist tightly, digging his fingers in and throwing his head back in ecstasy as he sank into Mike’s willing body. And that was it right there, that moment Mike loved, when Gio first pressed inside and their bodies adjusted to each other and they were connected in this marvelous way. Mike closed his eyes and just let himself feel it, felt Gio moving within him, beneath him. Gio ran his hands over Mike’s body as Mike set the pace and they moved together, making notes that collided with each other’s sounds, with the noise of the city outside Gio’s window. All of it came together to make a sort of breathless, triumphant music.

Maybe Mike didn’t know much about music, but he knew he loved
this
music.

He kissed Gio, who hooked an arm around Mike’s neck and held him still. Gio pushed up into Mike and it was so deliriously wonderful, the sensation of sliding in and out, of pressing together. Gio used his other hand to stroke Mike’s cock, and all of the nerve endings were firing, making sparks in Mike’s brain. Soon there was nothing but him and Gio, no outside noise, no outside turmoil or conflict, just two people growing to care about each other deeply and expressing that with their bodies, and soon Mike was crying out with the joy of it. He came hard, triumphantly, against Gio’s chest. Gio practically cheered, he seemed so overjoyed, and then he bucked his hips and sank his fingers into Mike’s biceps and was gone.

A little while later, as they lay together in bed and Mike tried to understand what was happening between them, Gio said, “That is what they mean by making beautiful music together. Discordant, perhaps, but no less beautiful.”

“Yes,” Mike said, though he had no other words to describe what he was feeling. He kissed the line where Gio’s hair met his forehead. He closed his eyes and leaned into Gio. One last time he whispered, “Yes.”

M
IKE
opened the door and let Gio into the apartment. He’d invited Gio to dinner as a way to make the relationship seem more normal and less like a secret. It seemed like these were important steps toward normalizing something that still felt far from normal for Mike.

Emma was being a good sport, although it was clear she was still not quite sure what to make of Gio and his place in Mike’s life. That made Mike nervous as Gio leaned over and gave him a quick kiss. Mike smiled and escaped to take dinner out of the oven. He glanced at Emma on the way, but her expression told him nothing.

Normal. There was no reason for this not to be normal.

Mike had made a baked chicken dish, which he pulled out of the oven while Gio awkwardly spoke to Emma. He placed the baking dish on the table, and Gio made a show of inhaling and commenting on how good it smelled. Mike thought he was a decent cook, although he’d learned, as with many things he knew how to do, as a result of needing to do things for Emma. Gio and Emma settled in at the table as Mike put out a salad. He grabbed a bottle of wine for him and Gio—he’d asked for advice at the local wine store—and a can of diet soda for Emma. When he finally sat, he took in the tableau of his daughter and his boyfriend sitting down to a meal and was struck by how domestic, how normal, this seemed. That was good.

For the first few minutes of the meal, no one spoke. Everyone helped themselves to food and the silence was punctuated only by the sound of flatware scraping against plates. Mike racked his brain for possible topics of conversation, but it was Gio who broke the stalemate.

“Emma, have you decided on what you will sing at your Young Musicians Program audition?”

She perked up a little. “I was thinking about ‘Sì. Mi chiamano Mimì.’ from
La Bohème
, but I’m not sure if that’s the right thing to sing. What do you think?”

It was a relief, in a way, to realize Gio could be a resource for Emma in a way Mike couldn’t. This was how the two of them would connect, find common ground.

“I had a thought, although you certainly do not need to do what I say,” Gio said. “It should be your choice. But I was thinking the real role for you is Violetta from
La Traviata
. Similar to Mimi in a lot of ways, but, hmm.
Non lo so
. I think Verdi is prettier than Puccini in some ways. I brought you some music, if you want to look it over after dinner.”

“Oh, thank you. I don’t know
La Traviata
very well.”

“I think the difference is that Mimi is often hopeless, but Violetta is full of hope.”

And then they were off, discussing various opera plots and voice parts. Mike had a hard time following most of it, but they were talking to each other, so he wasn’t bothered. He was content to eat and listen to the conversation.

After dinner wound down, Mike offered everyone ice cream, which was a big hit. Gio and Emma were practically best friends by then.

Gio offered to do the dishes, which Mike tried to talk him out of, but they compromised with Mike putting the food away while Gio got out his sheet music.

Mike overheard Gio say, “This is my favorite part of
La Traviata
. It’s part of the finale of Act I. Violetta is a courtesan, used to being treated poorly by men. Then Alfredo comes into her life and declares his love. She’s so beautiful that men declare their love for her all the time, so at first she doesn’t think much of Alfredo, but then she decides there’s something about him. ‘
Ah, fors’è lui
,’ she sings. Maybe it’s him. Maybe this man is the one. He is, of course, though there are complications in Act II. It’s….” Gio hesitated for a long moment. “Really, the end of
La Traviata
is unbearably tragic. It’s this wonderful love story wherein Alfredo loves Violetta despite her past, and she loves him in return, but then she dies of tuberculosis. But this is opera, no? Not many happy endings.”

Then Gio hummed.

It didn’t have the same force that his voice had in recordings, but he started to sing softly, and there was certainly something there. He finished and said, “Well, two octaves higher, obviously, but what do you think?”

“I like it,” Emma said. “I’ll definitely consider it.”

Mike walked back into the living room and saw them sitting close together with several pages of sheet music spread out on the coffee table. Mike sat next to Emma and said, “How’s it going, kiddo?”

“Good.” Then Emma’s phone rang, preventing further conversation. She hopped off the couch and ran into her bedroom. Mike heard her say, “Hi, Izzy!” before her bedroom door closed.

Mike reached over to Gio and tugged on a lock of his hair. “I appreciate you working with her.”

“Of course. I want her to do well. She would have to really screw up at her audition not to get into the program at this point. I don’t see that happening—she’s too much of a perfectionist—but it’s an opportunity for her to shine as well.” Gio put a hand on Mike’s knee. “At first, I wanted her to get into the program so I could work with her, because I wanted to have my name attached to such a wonderful student. But now I want her to succeed for your sake as well. I want… I don’t know. I want lot of things.”

Mike leaned over and gave Gio a soft kiss, not a prelude to anything so much as a demonstration of his affection. When he pulled away again, Gio was smiling.

“So,
caro
, what do you usually do on a weeknight like this?” Gio asked.

“In the summer? Well, a lot of the time, Sandy comes over and we watch baseball.”

“Baseball?”

“Mm-hmm. Yankees are playing Tampa Bay tonight, I think.”

“All right. Then that is what we will do.”

“Are you serious?”

Gio nodded, so Mike picked up the remote and flipped on the TV. He found the Yankees game.

“Now, I only know the basics of the game. I never played as a kid. In Italy, everything is
calcio
, or what you call soccer.”

“Right. Well, ask me anything.”

“Did you play baseball?”

“A little, but mostly just with the kids in my neighborhood. I played football in high school, but the team was really terrible, so I’m not sure that counts.”

Gio laughed. “I will admit that I was not athletic at all as a child.” He turned toward the TV. “So you are a Yankees fan, I assume.”

“Yup.”

Mike put his arm behind Gio on the couch. Gio moved closer and then leaned his head on Mike’s shoulder, so Mike lightly wrapped his arm around him. He was a little concerned about Emma bursting back out of her room, but as far as public displays of affection went, this one seemed pretty tame.

“What do you like about the game?” Gio asked.

Mike considered the question for a moment. “Well, the thing with a professional game is that it feels tense sometimes, because it’s difficult. Like, the whole point is to hit the ball and run around the bases, right? But a good batter only gets a hit about a quarter of the time. An excellent batter only does it about a third of the time.”

“Really? It seems like they hit the ball more often than that.”

“Well, a hit only counts if the batter gets on base, so he has to do three things when he’s at bat. He has to hit the ball, he has to hit it in a way that makes it difficult for the other team to catch it, and he has to make it to first base before the other team gets control of the ball. It’s not an easy game, baseball. I think that’s what I like about it. And when you put two really great teams against each other and you don’t know who will win? I love games like that.”

“I see.”

They watched the rest of the inning play out, with Gio occasionally asking questions about what was happening, and they were chatting through a commercial break when Emma reemerged. She sat in the armchair.

Gio sat up, leaning away from Mike a little, which Mike appreciated, although he immediately missed the proximity.

“How is Isobel?” Mike asked.

“Good,” said Emma. “So, um, the Metropolitan Opera is doing a show in the park on Friday. Can we go?”

“Who is ‘we’?”

“Me and Izzy. And you and Gio, if you want.”

Mike was touched that she would think of it. “I… yeah. Gio?”