I feel like I'm going to cry.
Gianni, please, I didn't… I didn't mean to… I'm sorry, I'm so sorry.
Did you like it?
I… yes, I liked it, but it's not important, really… sorry…
Now let's see if you like this too.
He pulls down my zipper with a determined gesture and turns me brutally onto my stomach, pulling down my boxers. He sneers:
It burns a little, but you'll like it, you'll see. And you already know, I'm not the first for you.
My heart is bursting.
No Gianni, I have never allowed anyone to rape me. I hate violence.
Oh, so it would be the first time? What an honor…
He rolls my arms around my back and grabs my wrists firmly.
And stay still, I told you.
Gianni is destroying everything and I don't understand why. I can't let him. I'm twenty and athletic, he can't hold his own against me if I resist: I just have to be careful not to hurt him. I tug violently to free my wrists, I turn like a wild animal, I fight against him, I push away his hands, I bite them. I'm amazed by his physical strength: despite his age and his slender physique, I struggle to keep him at bay. Finally, in desperation, I give him a violent backhand. Gianni, stunned, stops suddenly, panting. A trickle of blood is running down his left cheek: my slap has broken one of the arms of his glasses, hurting his cheekbone.
I bring my hands to my face, gripped by anguish, and jump to my feet.
Gianni, oh Gianni, I'm sorry, I hurt you… Wait, I'm going to the bathroom to get some hydrogen peroxide and a band-aid. Oh God, Gianni, forgive me.
I run to the bathroom and go back to the bedroom. Gianni is still there, motionless, kneeling on the bed, his broken glasses dangling from one ear, and the blood mixes with tears that run silently down his face. With shaking hands I take off his glasses and place them on the nightstand. I pour some hydrogen peroxide on a cotton ball and gently dab his cheekbone: fortunately the wound is only superficial.
I broke your glasses I say mortified, while I apply the plaster.
It doesn't matter, he replies tonelessly, without expression I have a couple in reserve.
Once the dressing is finished, I sit on a chair in front of the bed, overwhelmed by an unspeakable sorrow for that face that has suddenly aged ten years, devastated by an inner suffering that cannot be expressed. The tears continue to flow by themselves, without sobs, as if he does not notice. He is in a state of absolute catatonia.
Gianni, look at me I tell him softly.
He looks up and looks at me strangely, as if he was struggling to recognize me.
Emmanuel he says in a thin voice.
Gianni I answer.
What… what did I do to you?
Nothing, fortunately. We just fought a little, like two cats.
He smiles palely.
Like two cats… two cats in love… And who won?
Well, me, of course: I was the biggest and strongest.
How beautiful… he whispers, and from that comment I understand that he lived that experience in a trance, without realizing what he was doing. But he must realize it, it was too serious. I decide to throw my heart over the hedge.
Gianni, I tell him encouragingly do you want to lie down on the bed with me a little longer? But you're holding me in your arms like that night, remember?
He nods slowly.
Yes, of course I remember. Yes, of course I'm holding you.
And we don't do anything else.
Yes, of course we don't do anything else.
He drops onto the bed and holds out his hand to me. I join him and lie down beside him, taking his hand. My heart is racing, but I hide my agitation.
I think you should zip up your pants, though I tell him, smiling.
Why, is he down? I'm really careless. My God, this sloppiness is not like me.
No, it's not like you. You're always so elegant...
He zips up his zipper and gently takes me into his arms. My heart is pounding so hard it hurts. I feel relieved that I have escaped danger, but at the same time I know that I must not let what has just happened pass in silence. Even if Gianni doesn't seem to remember, I don't want him to push this thing into his unconscious: it would pop up again when I least expect it.
Gianni, I begin cautiously a little while ago it seemed like you didn't recognize me anymore, you know?
He nods without saying anything. This still means he knows.
Can you explain to me, if you like, what happened? Maybe I did something I shouldn't have done, and it's better if I know what it was: that way I avoid repeating the mistake.
He remains silent for a while; then, stroking my hair, he says:
It's not your fault, puppy. You can't do anything about it. It's that smell.
I am completely taken aback by his response.
What smell?
Earlier, at the movies, when you put my hand on the fly of your pants... Remember? I smelled that right away.
I'm blazing.
Oh yes, I remember. Sorry, I don't know how it happened.
I feel very embarrassed: Antonia has always told me that I smell like talcum powder even at certain moments, is it possible that I now give off such a strong odor?
Gianni smiles a little.
You have a truly angelic relationship with pleasure: I have never seen anything like it. However, your body is that of a male of the human species.
Well, sure.
And so you emit the same fluids that humans emit, my angel.
Shocked, I confirm:
I suppose so: I even had a child with him.
But not everyone is an angel, my dear. I am not, and inside me there is a beast that becomes uncontrollable at the smell of sperm.
Really, Gianni? But why?
My question is completely stupid, but I can't help it. Gianni doesn't answer and continues to follow his train of thought out loud.
All afternoon I wanted nothing more than to bring you here and rape you. All afternoon. I was dying to do it, to rip off those duck-print boxers and see what was inside. I was about to attack you in the car, I barely held back.
But… Gianni… I exclaim, amazed and disheartened.
Yes, I know, little one. You are you and I shouldn't have. But it was stronger than me, and as you can see I couldn't do it.
But why, Gianni? I just don't understand…
Finally the answer arrives. Gianni sighs deeply:
I was seven years old when my paternal uncle began to abuse me. He did it repeatedly, I never understood if without my parents' knowledge or with their tacit consent: you know, my uncle was a powerful man, a high-level diplomat. The fact is that I began to like him, dear little one, and this marked my whole life in an indelible way.
Deeply affected by his words, I say nothing. I know the speech is not finished; in fact he continues:
The smell of sperm has imprinted itself in my subconscious in such a deep way that, when I smell it, I lose control and I can't wait to recreate that situation of violence that I suffered for years. With boys I am brutal and violent, my darling.
Yes, I've noticed a little. But with Massimiliano it will be different, I hope.
Not too much. Even between me and Massimiliano the relationship has always been rather violent. You see, love, I like violence.
I swallow with difficulty, struggling to imagine a situation that is inconceivable to me: I detest violence in all its forms.
The only exception is you, my angel, because I love you, and because you are so naive and candid.
Gianni, you overestimate me: I think I've already told you that I've had some very difficult experiences in the past.
Yes, but they didn't penetrate you: you are immaculate inside. I, on the other hand, am marked forever. As soon as I smelled that odor on you, you saw it, I lost control. I had the same reaction as a tiger when it smells the odor of blood.
I remain silent for a minute, then I say:
I think I understand the problem, Gianni: you need a relationship that makes you feel like a child again, let's say when you were less than seven years old, and makes you feel clean.
He nods with difficulty.
Yes, that's right. Only when I go back to my early childhood can I feel clean.
And that's why you like a fool like me so much: because with me you become a child again.
He holds me close.
Yes, a little bit. But it's not just that.
We remain embraced for a few minutes without saying anything else, but I know that Gianni is about to tell me something, and I already know what.
I ruined everything, didn't I, little one? Now you're afraid of me, you feel disgusted. You'll never be able to love me again.
And that's where you're wrong. I reply firmly I can love you even more, Gianni, because you've told me unspeakable truths, and I appreciate your sincerity. I will never let you wake up that beast again.
I smile.
And if he wakes up again, we'll fight again. You know I win, I'm stronger.
He smiles too, bitterly. Then he says in a resigned voice:
I'll die if you leave me.
I hug him eagerly.
But I'm not leaving you.
You're just saying that to keep me calm. Then you'll run out that door and run away, and we'll never see each other again.
No, Gianni: I won't run away at all.
After all, that's what I deserve. But I'll die without you. What do I do with a life like mine? It's all fake, and what's real sucks. I wear the mask of irony on the face of a leper, elegant clothes on the rags of my soul: a beggar's soul. It's not worth living like this.
Your life is very important to me, Gianni.
I won't commit suicide, my little one, don't worry: I don't intend to inflict this remorse on you, I'm not selfish enough, and maybe I don't even have the guts to do it. And then I have to try to stay alive for a little while longer to assist Massimiliano. I'll die starting tomorrow, but no one will notice. I'll die from simple lack of life, that's all.
I'm not leaving you, Gianni. I repeat Don't be afraid of that beast: we'll keep it at bay, you and I together. Demons are less strong than angels, you know? Besides, it seems that they are rather stupid, even Saint Augustine says so. You mustn't be afraid of them, you mustn't!
Again those silent tears, without sobs and without sound, streak his face, slipping into a deeply engraved wrinkle at the sides of his mouth. I dry them with my fingers, caressing his cheek. Suddenly an unspeakable doubt arises in me: I decide to solve the problem at the root.
Can you wait for me here for a moment? I ask him I swear I'm not running away, I just have to go to the bathroom.
Sure, go ahead.
I go to the bathroom and wash myself thoroughly to get rid of every trace of that smell that has such a devastating effect on him. I take off my boxers and ball them up, throwing them out the window: when I go out I will retrieve them in the courtyard. I put my jeans directly on my skin and return smiling to the bedroom, taking my place again next to Gianni, who lies still in the same position. Now that I am completely odorless I will not be able to arouse any perverse instinct in him.
Can you still give me kisses? I ask him sweetly.
Yes, those yes. No one ever kissed me when I was little, I have no memories connected to kisses. They were not foreseen in the ritual of violence.
Then give me a kiss.
He kisses me tenderly. Suddenly he moves his mouth away and says to me:
You know what? When I kiss you, I feel like I'm kissing a girl.
Really?
Yeah. You make me feel straight.
And is it ugly?
No, it's beautiful.
He starts kissing me again. I close my eyes and I completely immerse myself in that role that makes him feel good. I'm his girlfriend, poor Gianni: the only one he's ever had in his life.
At the end we say goodbye with a long hug.
As I drive home I realize that I am deeply troubled: the discovery of that Doppelgänger, of that frightening face behind the velvet mask, has shocked me, there is no point in denying it. At the same time my affection for Gianni has further strengthened: I will have to be a man, in the true and full sense of the word, to help him face that frightening double of his. Unfortunately, my hope of being able to be myself in sex with him, of showing him that something beautiful that I think I have in those moments, has faded: I fear that I will once again be forced into a chastity that is becoming the norm for me. I will have to settle for kisses , which are a wonderful means of communication anyway. I will have to resist the temptation to return to Antonia's bed or to do other stupid things of that kind, above all knowing that in the meantime he is sleeping with Massimiliano and who knows who else, if his demon takes over. A truly mortifying situation.
But I want to do it, I have to do it. That face devastated by suffering, aged, shocked, with that trickle of blood and tears running down one cheek, that “I will die if you leave me” said in a calm and resigned tone of voice, have marked my mind and heart with an indelible mark. I will do it, I am sure of it, because love gives strength and courage, as Plato says.
At this point I am certain that my love for him is no longer, or is not just, a “mirror effect”: I love him, with all his fragilities and weaknesses. This thought suddenly calms the storm that agitates my soul, bringing a great calm to it.
I turn on the stereo and start listening to some music, without thinking about anything else.