Dial a Stud: Dante's Story (23 page)

He’d turned the camera on both of us sometimes, in an attempt to get the first ‘selfie’ I guess, given there were no smart phones around back then.

Looking up at Dante again, I shrugged my shoulders. How did he come to possess this photo? Was he a family member, or something, to the gentle giant, who had befriended me, for the short time I’d been in rehab?

“How did you get this?” I asked him.

He didn’t answer, simply dug around in the box, until he found another photo and again, held it out to me. This one was of me, but this time, the boy from my past was in it with me. He’d done a pretty good job, for a selfie where he couldn’t see how it was going to look, until after the film was developed.

I studied the photo. It was typical of a cheap camera, poor quality, faded. The tops of our heads were cut off, probably because he would have had trouble, lining us up for the photo.

I looked closer at the image of Arnie. That, was the name, he’d given me, to call him. We weren’t allowed, to use our real names, it was all part, of protecting our identities, since so many of the kids who were there, came from wealthy or influential families.

My name had been Barbie, because somewhere in my fucked up head back then, I’d thought, that if I aspired to having a body like the iconic doll, I’d have it all.

I knew my friend had chosen Arnie, because Arnold Schwarzenegger was his hero. He’d dreamed, of one day looking like, the former Mr Universe.

Gently, I traced the image of Arnie and me in the photo. We were smiling, Arnie giving one of his rare, wide smiles, where I could see his teeth. His brown eyes were shining with laughter. I couldn’t remember exactly what we’d been laughing about, but it was obvious, we’d found something funny.

Still confused, still not understanding how Dante had come to have these photos in his possession, I raised my eyes to his again. He was kneeling on the floor, watching me keenly, those beautiful, expressive eyes of his, filled with tension.

Again, I lowered my eyes to the photo, and frowned. Something, there was something about it, something that started to trigger memories in me. I looked to Dante, then down to the image, and then it hit me. No, it didn’t just hit me, it blindsided me. The shock of what I was seeing, slammed into me so hard, I gasped, my heart leaping violently behind my breast.

It couldn’t be, surely? I looked from Dante to the photo again. The eyes; what do they say? Eyes are the windows to the soul? The eyes say it all? Was that why I felt so drawn to him?

“I…you…I…I…Arnie?” I finally managed to squeeze the name out, from between lips that felt numb. “No…no…it can’t be.” My voice was little more than a whisper.

“Hey Barbie.” He said, his voice husky, filled with emotion.

My stunned eyes moved over him, trying to find something of that boy from my past, that boy who had suffered so much personal torment himself, all those years ago. That sad overweight boy, who I knew had been bullied and abused so much, he’d tried to take his own life.

I knew he’d suffered far more than I ever had. He’d not only been bullied at school, he’d been beaten up several times. I remember that his family were wealthy, fairly high up in the community.

He’d had to deal with the double blow of bullying, and cruel taunts, from the students, at the prestigious school his parents had him in, but he was also considered a disappointment to his family. Seems they’d had no room in their lives for a morbidly obese son.

From memory, the only reason he’d ended up at the centre where I met him, was because after his suicide attempt, his family were so ashamed, and embarrassed by his behaviour, they’d wanted him hidden away, out of the public eye, to be ‘fixed.’ They didn’t care that they could have lost their son. They were only concerned about how it would look to the outside world. What kind of impact it would have on them and their careers.

Poor Arnie already lived with the pain of not fitting the right image, not being good enough, in his parents’ eyes. Once he’d been sent to the centre, he’d had the double blow of knowing he was being shoved away, like their dirty little secret.

Of course, I did wonder sometimes, what happened to him, but I was thirteen years old, still learning to deal with my own fucked up outlook on life. I hadn’t given him anywhere near as much thought, as he’d obviously given me.

Again my eyes lifted to his, and I still couldn’t believe it. The shy young boy from my past, who had befriended me when we were just kids still, had somehow managed to find me, all these years later.

What was it about me that had stayed with him, all this time? Maybe it was just that he’d been older? I was thirteen, he’d been seventeen, which meant, he was twenty nine years old now.

I couldn’t think of anything, about me, that would have made me special, in his eyes. I’d only been at the centre two months, and yet in that time, we’d talked a lot. We’d shared some of our deepest and darkest moments. He’d told me about what led to him being there, and we showed each other our scars. I do remember him telling me, that he’d chosen the name Arnie, for himself, because his goal in life was, to one day, look like him.

Looking at him now, I could only think to myself, that he’d achieved his goal. How on earth had he done it? How had he turned himself from being morbidly obese, to this stunning man he was today? He wasn’t as bulked up as Arnold had been but he was still an incredibly well built man. Hell, he was more than that. His body was a work of art. He was the most beautiful example of the male form, I’d ever seen in real. Only his friend Alex; could come close to comparing to Dante.

Was this why I’d felt drawn to him? Was it because deep inside a part of myself, I knew him? Did some small part of me, something, recognise him, although, he looked nothing like the overweight boy, I’d known back then?

“Are you ever going to speak cara?” His deep voice drew my attention back to him, where he still sat on the floor, watching me.

“I…I can’t believe it’s you. You look so different. Did you think I would recognise you? You know, I knew there was something. I’ve been drawn to you since the night we danced at the club, but I didn’t know, how could I possibly know, you were Arnie?”

“I knew you didn’t recognise me and I’m not trying to make you feel guilty for that. I just needed you to remember who I was, to hopefully make you see why I’m kind of fucked up.”

“I don’t remember you speaking Italian, Dante. Sure, you have an Italian name, but apart from a trace of an accent when we were at the centre, you never spoke a word of Italian.”

One corner of his mouth curled up in a smile. “So with all the possible questions you might have for me, my lack of Italian back then, is your number one concern?”

“Oh I have questions for you. I’m just curious about the Italian.”

Dante sighed. “When I left the centre about a month or so, after you, I was not exactly welcomed back into the family home. My mother just saw me as a constant source of embarrassment, and my father was incapable of doing little else, besides voice his disappointment in me. Dad was offered a job, out of the country. It was high profile, and I think I suddenly went from an annoyance and embarrassment, to a liability.” He paused for a moment, his eyes unfocused, and I knew he was reliving that awful time of his life.

“So what happened to you?” I asked.

“I was sent to Italy. Most of dad’s family still lived there. I went to live on my Grandparents’ farm.”

“Oh Dante, I’m so sorry.” I whispered.

He lifted his eyes to mine. “Oh no cara. Going there was my salvation. I worked my Grandparents’ vineyard in Tuscany. For the first time in as long as I could remember, they showed me kindness and love. They also showed me how to run a winery, and because it’s a very old property, and they didn’t modernise things much, it was very physical work. I thrived there. I lost weight there. Nonna and Nonno showed me how to eat healthy food, and with all the exercise, I began to lose weight. I thrived on the demanding workload after a while. Toiling out under the hot sun, seemed somehow right, I connected with nature, the land and I loved it.

Living in Italy saved me cara, in every way possible. My Grandparents were good to me, they loved me. Can you imagine what it felt like, to finally have people who cared about me, who loved me?”

My heart felt like it was being squeezed in a vice, hearing his heart breaking words. God, he’d suffered so much, until fate had intervened. Chances were, if he’d never gone to his Grandparents’ vineyard in Italy, he wouldn’t be alive now. Just thinking of this beautiful man, gone forever, brought tears to the back of my eyes.

“As I lost weight, I began to do resistance training too, and eventually I was strong. I became my version of Arnold. I finally got to live my dream.”

“So that’s where you picked up the Italian from I gather?”

He nodded. “Of course, Nonna and Nonno spoke Italian most of the time, as I started to learn it.”

“Obviously you came back to Australia though?”

Dante’s face fell, and I saw the sadness enter his eyes. “I was in Italy five years, when Nonno died from a sudden heart attack. Poor Nonna was devastated. They’d been together since they were teenagers. She lasted one year without him, before dying in her sleep one night. I suspect from a broken heart.”

His sorrowfully spoken words catapulted me off the bed, and onto the floor, to wrap him in my arms. “Oh Dante, I’m so sorry. You had people who loved you, and in the end you lost them. So you came back to Australia after that?”

“I had no idea they had left the winery to me. I ran it without them for a year or so, made a lot of changes, modernising it, so it would be competitive with the surrounding vineyards. It wasn’t the same without them though. I didn’t want to stay there without my Grandparents, so I hired people to manage it, and then I came home. I was in Italy almost eight years, cara. I had changed so much. Funny thing, my parents’ suddenly decided I was a suitable son to acknowledge, and they even had a girl from a family they were friends with, who was chosen for a suitable merger. In other words, they wanted us to marry. I wasn’t going to be manipulated by them, and forced to do something I had no desire to do. I also had no desire to start fresh with my parents. I walked away, moved down here, and never looked back. I bummed around for a couple of years, before joining Dial A Stud.” Dante subtly wiped at his face, and I realised there were tears rolling slowly down his cheeks. 

“You have had such a sad life.” I kissed his cheek gently. “How I wish I’d known you beyond the centre. I still don’t know why you remembered me, all this time, or even bothered to try and find me?”

“I remembered you cara, because besides my Nonna and Nonno, you were the only other person who treated me with kindness. People treat me well now, especially women, but that’s because they’re shallow, and only see this.” He waved his hands down that gorgeous body of his. “They wouldn’t have given me a second of their time, if I’d still been obese.”

“It’s still hard to believe you’re Arnie though.” I told him. “I’m sorry that you had so much pain growing up Dante. It does sound like you were very fortunate, to end up with your Grandparents in Tuscany. So how did you end up working as a stud for Dial A Stud?”

“It was one of those unexpected things. I met Alex and he was one of the studs. He told me I’d be just what the women wanted. I think at the time, I didn’t think about whether it was a good idea or not. Girls had never wanted me, back when I was obese. As Arnie, what did I have to offer cara? Nothing. I was overweight, painfully shy, a virgin. There was nothing about me that the girls found attractive. Alex painted a picture of women, sex and money. It was tempting to me, especially when I was feeling lost after losing my Grandparents, and being back in Australia, after so many years away.

I’d gone from the person no girls wanted, to suddenly being groped, and getting all sorts of suggestive notes shoved in my pockets, and phone numbers thrown at me. Women handed themselves to me on a platter, Grace. It was exciting for a while, then nauseating. These women still didn’t care about me. I was a dare, a desire, a need for them, even a challenge for some. It was very different to my childhood, when girls, had looked at me, with disdain and revulsion. Now women looked at me with desire and lust. Funny how the attitude changed so much, once I lost the weight. Chances are, if I was still overweight, no women would have wanted me.”

“You were a sweet, kind person Dante. I’m sure there would have been women who wanted you for that.”

He smiled at me, a sad kind of smile. “Yeah, that’s the standard response isn’t it? He had a great personality, which translates to; he had nothing else to offer a woman. Whether the attitude is right or not cara, no one wanted me when I was morbidly obese. Not even my own parents.”

Listening to him speak, with every word, I felt a fragment of my heart splinter away. God he’d endure so much pain and hurt; unbelievable hurt at the hands of people who should have loved him unconditionally.

“So I can understand for a young man, the money, women and sex, would have been tempting to join Dial A Stud, but you sound almost like the attention of the women turned you off. So how on earth did you end up pleasuring women for a living? How did you overcome body image issues? Did you have them?

If you are anything like me, even when the weight is gone, it doesn’t change the mindset of the person. It doesn’t matter how many times, Mel tells me I have a great body, and that men will love it. Inside I’m still that plump, insecure girl.”