AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“I hope not, but I do think you should at least talk with them.”
“I should come out?”
“I’m not going to tell you how or when to do that. Whenever you feel ready.”
He ran his fingers through his hair, the wind rustling the papers on the pole with more gusto. It felt like a storm wind, but the skies were clear and blue. Lord but we needed rain badly.
“Will you sit with me? I feel braver with you. Like today.”
How could I resist those deep brown puppy dog eyes? “If you want me there, I will be there.”
“Grazie. I love you so much,” he whispered, stealing one last kiss before we parted ways.
Oh. Oh lords. He had said he loved me. I nearly cried.
“I love you too,” I replied and moved in for a kiss. The pie barred me from getting too close, but his lips moved over mine gently.
I held up the peach pie instead of waving or blowing a kiss. He lifted a hand and kicked his bike over. The engine caught right off, coughed, spit out some smoke, and off he went, rumbling over the cobblestones. I watched him until he was out of sight before heading to my car. The pie rode to the villa with me in the passenger seat, buckled in like a toddler, my hand darting out to keep it from sliding to the grimy floor when someone cut me off at a light. I called him a pig-suckling bastard in Italian. It must have been some damn fine Italian for the guy gave me the “umbrello” gesture, one hand in a fist, and then a slap to the other arm before he sped away. I laughed out loud. I’d have to thank Bianca for that comeback.
“Oh pie, what a day it has been. I cannot wait to see what tomorrow brings!”
***
The following day brought a gathering in my aunt’s kitchen.
A very dour, tense, frowny gathering of people who were trying not to look at each other. Donvino was gripping my hand as if it were a lifeline and he was a floundering soul in a violent sea. The rich, oregano-laden aroma of Giada’s sauce bubbling on the stove filled the room as we sat there stiffly, all of us unsure how to proceed.
Giada and Alessio were at the scarred table, eyes flitting about, as Bianca handed out cups of cappuccino, then sat down, her sight skipping about the table to land on me. We both lifted a shoulder at the same time.
“Someone must speak,” Bianca said, poking her cousin in the side so hard he gasped.
Giada and Alessio said nothing. The tension in this kitchen was so thick you’d need a chainsaw to cut through it. To hell with a knife. I cleared my throat. All eyes flew to me. I tugged down my burgundy vest over a white tee I’d put on just for this meeting. Burgundy was my strength color. The gold shooting through the snug vest just added a wee bit more flair.
“I think we all are here because we all love each other. Perhaps we can start with that as an opener?” I suggested. The feeling in the fingers on my left hand was starting to wane due to his tight grasp on it. The tips were tingling, but there was no way I was shaking Donvino off. Not now. Perhaps not ever. If he needed my hand in his forever, then so be it. Bianca nodded in agreement. Her long hair was freed of any bounds today, resting on her shoulders and then spilling down her back.
“Of course we love Donvino. He is our grandson. What we do not love is his behavior,” Giada replied tersely, each word laced with trepidation.
“My behavior has not changed,” Donvino quickly countered, the discussion now fully in Italian, so I was paying super close attention to try to catch everything.
“You hit your cousin in the face for nothing. That is a big change from the respectful boy we raised!” Giada countered, her eyes darting to me constantly. I could tell she was holding back out of fear of offending me.
“And you hit me!” Donvino fired back.
“You blasphemed!” Giada snapped, her face paling as her eyes grew damp. “You speak bad about God, saying you do not care about him. That he is evil if he does not accept you!”
Oh hellfire. This was heating up way faster than I had anticipated. Everyone then began speaking at once, which made it pert near impossible to follow along. My brain was not at the translate multiple people yelling at once level yet. Voices rose. Fingers were pointed, angry gazes—only one, and that one was Giada—flew to me.
“If you have something to say about me, please, Giada, say what you wish,” I said when I found an opening and her eyes were searing me like a raw steak. She stared at me openly. Alessio shook his head, his mouth tight, his hands on the table tapping madly.
“I have nothing to say to the signora’s nephew.” Right, that was a lie.
“Do you feel that I have led your grandson into being a homosexual against his will?” I offered and got a wide-eyed look from Giada. Bianca sat quietly, intent on the discussion, as Alessio tapped with more speed.
“That is stupid,” Donvino barked. “No one made me gay. I was born this way. It is who I have always been, for many years. I just hide it because everyone says it is shameful.”
“Not everyone,” Bianca spoke up. “Papà and I do not think so, nor does Signor Bonetti the senior or Signora Bonetti. Many in the church also do not feel so. Many priests now say to open our hearts to the queer community. The Pope even said homosexuality is not a crime and that the church should show tenderness, for we are all God’s children.”
Alessio nodded. Giada stared down at her clasped hands resting on the white apron bunched in her lap.
