Dinner at Fiorello’s (27 page)

He turned to Vito. “The clothes too?”

Vito looked at him, and Henry could discern the anguish on his face as he nodded.

“Look, why don’t you go lie down. I’ll finish packing in here and come get you when it’s all ready to carry downstairs and over to that Goodwill you mentioned.”

“I should do it,” Vito said, his voice barely rising above a whisper. “He was my boy.” The last few words came out ragged.

Henry went over to where Vito still sat, cross-legged, on the hardwood floor. “No. No, you shouldn’t. You’ve made this decision, and I think it’s a good thing, a healthy thing, even though you might not see it that way. Not now.” Henry allowed himself to touch Vito’s tightly curled hair. It was surprisingly soft, and he let his fingers linger in its strands for a moment. He wanted to hold him, to kiss him, but didn’t think that now was the right time.

“Please, Vito, let me finish up here.”

Vito said nothing as he rose from the floor and left the room. Henry stood frozen, a pair of OshKosh B’Gosh jeans in his hands, listening. He heard the creak of the bed, the clicks of the dogs’ toenails on the floor as they followed Vito. Henry lowered his shoulders a bit, relieved that Vito had lain down.

There really wasn’t much left to be done, so Henry had the two boxes of clothes and toys packed up and sealed shut with duct tape in no time. He glanced around the room and felt sad—it looked so lifeless. It could have been anyone’s room.

He looked at the broken piggy bank in the dustpan. He was about to go get the trash can from the kitchen and dump it inside, but the eyes of the pig looked up at him, and Henry thought maybe there was one thing Vito would like to hang on to. He went into the kitchen and rummaged through the drawers until he found what he was looking for—a tube of Elmer’s glue.

He returned to the bedroom and painstakingly, as though he were assembling a jigsaw puzzle, glued the pig back together. It took a while, and the pig crumpled a couple of times, but at last he had it together, even if it was cracked all over. Henry smiled sadly at the grinning face and the upturned snout, thinking that blue was an appropriate color for
this
pig.

He crept out of the bedroom and closed the door behind him so the dogs wouldn’t get inside to disturb the piggy bank. Henry wanted it to set. He hoped it would be a nice surprise for Vito, a gesture that showed Henry cared. Henry walked on silent feet down the hallway, wondering if Vito had fallen asleep. He took his time getting from one bedroom to the other, trying not to make the floorboards creak. If Vito was sleeping, Henry didn’t want to wake him.

He reached the other bedroom and looked inside. Vito was stretched out on the bed, wearing only his boxers. The dogs lay on the floor beside the bed. One lifted her head to regard Henry and then returned it to the floor.

Henry paused there, almost breathless.

He had two choices. One, he could quietly move the boxes to the front door, and maybe if Vito hadn’t awakened from that, he could take the boxes to Goodwill himself. Henry thought Vito might appreciate the small kindness.

Or two, he could do what not only his mind was telling him to do, but also his body. Instinct pulled him inside the bedroom. He stood for a moment beside the bed, gnawing on his lower lip. He could hear the rumble of the ‘L’ train down the street. A breeze, actually cool, came in through the window.

Henry didn’t allow himself to think as he removed his clothes, all of them, and lay down beside Vito. He tried to move gingerly, so as not to disturb the slumbering man next to him, but the box springs creaked. Henry’s weight caused Vito to roll toward him.

Henry lay back on the bed, hardly daring to breathe. He looked over at Vito and was surprised to see his eyes open, those dark brown irises considering him. He was expecting Vito to ask what the hell he thought he was doing or to tell Henry to get dressed and get the fuck out of his bedroom, get the fuck out of his apartment, his life. That was the Vito Henry knew and expected.

But Vito stared for only a few moments, and then he reached for him with both arms. Henry leaned into his embrace, scooting closer until his smooth body was aligned with Vito’s hairy one, one continuous line of flesh merging and meshing, electric. Henry swore he could feel Vito’s heartbeat.

Henry closed his eyes. He couldn’t help it. He grew rock hard and could actually feel spasms, indicating he could come any second. He sucked in a breath, gritting his teeth and willing himself not to let go, and the moment passed—for now.

Vito pulled him close, so close, almost mashing Henry up against him, although Henry was definitely not complaining. Henry’s head was pushed over Vito’s shoulder, and he maneuvered himself back just a bit so he could gently kiss and lick Vito’s neck. The skin was hot, slightly salty, and the taste of it was close to heaven. Henry gently bit down on Vito’s ear.

He pulled back more so he could peer into Vito’s dark eyes. “Is this okay?” he whispered.

In reply, Vito put both hands on Henry’s face and pulled him close, drawing him in for a kiss that was like no other Henry had ever experienced. Deep, soulful, and probing, Henry could do nothing but surrender to the power of those lips, that tongue, as in effect they consumed him. He kissed passionately back, the thoughts and worries at the edges of his mind floating away on the warm summer air.

He felt Vito pushing against him, wriggling, and realized he was taking off his boxers. He got up from the bed, and Henry felt the absence of Vito’s body next to his own as a cold ache. He watched Vito kick off his boxers; they sailed into a corner of the room. And then he watched the rise and fall of Vito’s fur-covered ass as he shooed the dogs from the room.

When he turned around, Henry gasped at the sight of Vito’s cock, rising from between his thighs and already leaking precome.

Vito’s eyes met Henry’s, and he said softly, “This is so wrong.”

Henry merely shook his head. “I think it’s just the opposite. Come back here.” Henry held out his arms.

And Vito fell into them, covering Henry’s body like a warm, furry blanket. Their cocks were mashed together, and their lips soon followed suit.

It had been, Henry guessed, a very long time for Vito. With a few more kisses and just the simple rub of their bodies together, Vito gasped after a minute or two, and Henry closed his eyes as he felt the hot gush of semen spurting across his belly. It caused a sympathetic reaction in Henry, and he arched his back and cried out as he came.

They kissed again, their come merging, gluing them together as they squeezed one another, both shuddering.

And then Vito rolled off Henry. He stared up at the ceiling for a long time as his breathing returned to normal. Henry wondered what he was thinking about. Was he feeling the same kind of ecstasy now coursing through Henry’s veins, or was something more melancholy asserting itself under those unreadable features? Henry studied Vito’s face in profile but couldn’t read his expression. To Henry, he merely looked tired.

After a long while, Vito spoke. “That was the first time.”

Henry wondered for a moment what he meant. For himself, Henry would have to say that was about his own third time, but he knew Vito had to be a lot more experienced than that.

And then it dawned on him.
Of course.
“Since—”

Vito turned toward him, putting the back of his hand against Henry’s cheek. “Yeah. Since Kevin.” He shrugged. “I couldn’t bring myself to be close to another man after he was gone.”

He removed his hand to let it rest on Henry’s chest and then moved it again, replacing the hand with his head. Henry stroked the dark hair, delighting in its silk.

Vito said, “But when I saw you, that first day in the restaurant, when Rosalie brought you back in the kitchen, I knew. I knew you might be the one to make me do something I wondered if I would ever want to do again.”

“You did?” Henry remembered what a klutz he’d been. How that could attract someone was beyond him. Yet he was glad for what Vito said.

“I know, I know. You wouldn’t have been able to tell. But I’ve lusted after you since the moment I saw you.” Vito took in a deep breath and held it. “You remind me so much of my Kev.”

Henry shut his eyes, feeling a heart-piercing kind of pain that nearly eradicated the joy he’d felt only seconds ago.
Of course. That has to be it. I just remind him of his dead husband. It’s kinda sweet and very, very sad. Don’t kid yourself,
kid
. This isn’t about you.
Henry turned away from Vito and stared at the wall.
Amazing how fast a moment can turn to shit.

Henry listened as Vito breathed easily behind him. He wanted to get up and leave the room, leave the apartment. Maybe try and return to his old life. He had no place here. He should have known that—before he let himself be used again. There might be a resemblance between him and this Kevin, but he
wasn’t
Kevin, and Henry was not too young to realize he could never compete with the idealized image of a ghost. Who could?

He turned back to Vito, feeling
something
simmering within him. He wasn’t sure if he could call it anger or sadness or simply bewilderment, but he felt off, nowhere near the calm and contentment he’d felt just after coming. The words were out of his mouth before he had a chance to consider them.

He asked again, “Why? Why did you buzz me in? Was it because of him? Because I reminded you of Kevin?”

Vito ran his fingers over Henry’s face as if he were a blind man. He traced the contours of Henry’s lips, and Henry resisted the urge to take his fingers in his mouth. He wasn’t sure if he wanted to suck them—or bite them.

“Is that what you think? Are you jealous?” Vito asked.

Henry started to protest but then realized jealous was exactly what he was. It might be petty, but his feelings were what they were, and when called out so baldly, Henry couldn’t deny that Vito was right. “I don’t know. Maybe a little.”

Vito laughed. “You can’t be jealous of Kevin. He’s gone.”

“I can be whatever I want.” Henry sat up but allowed his back to rest against the wooden headboard. He was realizing, maybe for the first time, that jealousy was not a rational emotion. But it sure could be a strong one!

“Look. If it makes you feel better, I’m not looking for a replacement for Kevin. I don’t know that I’m looking for
anything
, period. I still hurt. I still feel like my world has a hole in it, and I don’t know what to do to fill it.” Vito sighed. “I don’t even know if I want to fill it. Sometimes grief is the only thing that connects us to ones we’ve loved and lost.” He stared hard at Henry. “It can be hard to let that go.”

Henry nodded, feeling a twinge of shame at his own emotions. He touched Vito’s chest for a moment and then drew his hand away. Henry had never lost anyone, not in such a permanent way, and he realized he couldn’t even hope to understand the depths of Vito’s despair.

Vito swallowed and laid his head on Henry’s stomach. “When I said you reminded me of Kevin, I meant it as a good thing. You not only look something like him, although your looks are sweeter, more innocent, and maybe that’s just your age. But the real reason you remind me of him is because you
are
sweet—and stubborn. Just like he was. I can tell you’re a little afraid of me, but I can also see that you won’t put up with my bullshit for very long.”

Henry didn’t know how true the latter part of that statement was, so he didn’t say anything other than to ask another question. “Why did you wanna have sex with me?”

Vito chuckled. “Because you laid down naked beside me?”

“I suppose that’s as good a reason as any,” Henry said sadly.

Vito reached up and tweaked Henry’s nipple—hard. “Ouch!” Henry pulled away.

Vito said, “You want to know the real reason? The real reason is because I like you, maybe even I’m falling for you, in spite of lots of little voices inside me telling me it’s a very bad idea. They’re saying you’re too young, too rich. You’ve got too many problems of your own.
I’ve
got too many problems of my own. I’m not ready. I need more time. They’re telling me all that.

“And I think, finally, and I know I’m right, that those voices are full of shit. I made love to you because I wanted to, because, as I have to admit as much to myself as to you, I wanted to from the first moment I saw you.

“I wanted to make love to you because you were—are—a bridge back to living. It’s a bridge I wasn’t sure I ever wanted to cross again.”

Vito pulled himself up so he could kiss Henry deeply, soulfully. He moved away, and their eyes locked. “But I do. You came into my life just when I needed you. You gave me the one thing I realized I was lacking since Kev and my Sal passed away.”

“What’s that?” Henry asked.

“
Hope.
Do you know what it’s like to lose hope? Before, even when my life was shitty, I could always make myself believe that something good was waiting for me just around this or that corner, that the rain would stop and the sun would come out again.” Vito laughed. “Don’t make me sing that song from
Annie
, Henry. But seriously, I always had hope, until it seemed even that emotion died with those two boys I loved so very much.” Vito kissed Henry’s ear. “I feel hope again. And it’s because of you. Not because you remind me of him, although you do, but because you gave me that incredible gift back. I didn’t know how much I missed it, how much it was making my whole life a very dark and lonely place.” Vito kissed Henry’s lips softly. “I don’t know where we’ll go from here, sweet boy, but I have this warm thing in my heart that allows me to think that we may wind up
somewhere
—together.”

Henry pulled Vito close, trying hard to hold back the tears, which was pretty easy when he considered his other head, the one farther south, had risen up and was weeping its own tears of joy.

Thoughts, emotions, and heat all became tangled up as they gripped and groped each other again, exploring and tasting. This time, they took their time, and when it was over, they both knew what the other’s come tasted like.