Date: Thu, 21 Jul 2005 11:06:45 +0200
From: A.K. <andrej@andrejkoymasky.com>
Subject: Who has to forgive - chapter 8/9 (Young Friends)

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WHO HAS TO FORGIVE
by Andrej Koymasky (C) 2005
written the 2nd of February, 1993
translated by the author English
text kindly revised by
David

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USUAL DISCLAIMER

"WHO HAS TO FORGIVE" is a gay story, with some parts containing graphic
scenes of sex between males. So, if in your land, religion, family,
opinion and so on this is not good for you, it will be better not to
read this story. But if you really want, or because YOU don't care, or
because you think you really want to read it, please be my welcomed
guest.

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CHAPTER 8

FRIENDSHIP

Antonello, on the night he left Roberto's house with his two suitcases,
on his bike, not knowing where to go, what to do, took the coast road
and drove for kilometers. At the entrance of Ascea he saw the lit sign
of a small hotel and stopped. They had a free room.

He lay, still dressed, on the bed. He couldn't fall asleep. He had
wounded Roberto. He had wounded him so badly as to extinguish all his
warmth, all his sweetness, and only his strength remained. He became a
cold, bitter coffee, he said to himself, not even smiling at the
comparison that arose in his mind. Roberto didn't even hate him, so he
said, and that was even worse. Because, if he least hated him he might
be hiding the fact that he also was hiding a little bit of love. He had
killed Roberto's love! He cried bitter, silent tears.

Antonello fell asleep at dawn. He slept, restlessly, until noon. He woke
up sweating, exhausted -- the window was flooded with sun. He undressed,
took a shower. Opened the suitcases to change his clothes and saw the
pictures. In a fit of fury towards himself, he tore them in a thousand
pieces and threw them in the empty soap box that served as a waste paper
basket. He saw his nude image reflected in the mirror and averted his
eyes, feeling he was ugly, repulsive. He dressed. He reluctantly ate
something (he hadn't eaten since the day before) then started to go
around looking for a job. He was in luck, that evening he was hired for
a trial period as a waiter in a bar. The next day he started to work.

But now he no longer smiled at the customers, he didn't have the
strength. This earned him fewer tips than before, but he didn't care.
Three days later he found a room downtown and left the hotel. It was a
poky, narrow room with a small window opening onto a small half-dark
inner court, but it suited him since it was very cheap.

In the bar there was a lot of work, as the tourist season had just
started. This suited him well, as the work absorbed Antonello and
prevented him from thinking. After two weeks he had his first two weeks'
pay, and was hired as a regular -- the boss was happy with his work. He
paid his rent and went to open an account at the local bank, then sent
the account number to Nello at the shop. He didn't feel like sending it
to Roberto. At the end of the month, when he went to deposit his new
savings, the first money transfer had already been made. Antonello
almost hoped it wouldn't arrive, because that might be a sign that
Roberto had changed his mind and that he didn't want to sever all ties
with him. That money was like a cold shower on his hopes.

Little by little he started to smile at the customers again, out of
professionalism, but his smile was no longer as fresh and luminous as it
had been. Now it was veiled by a sense of sadness. On the evenings,
lying on his small bed leaning against the wall, he couldn't help
thinking of Roberto. And often he cried dejectedly, until sleep gave him
some relief. He had done wrong. And he was paying for it, and paying
dearly.

His slender, elegant appearance, his sad smile often attracted the
attention of some customers, but he wasn't aware of it. His tips
increased, but about this Antonello didn't care either. The bar, that
tourist season, didn't have a closing day. He had, all the same, the
right to a day off each week, but he told the proprietor he didn't want
to stay at home -- he didn't have anybody anyway, he had nothing else to
do, and he got enough rest at night. The proprietor willingly accepted
his request, because Antonello was a very good waiter, fast, competent,
careful, so he paid him double for working on his day off. Thus
Antonello was working every day from six in the morning to ten at night,
tireless, with just two breaks for lunch and supper that he took in the
pizza shop across from the bar.

One evening, in the pizza shop, someone asked him if he could sit at his
table. The premises were crowded, so Antonello nodded in assent.

The other sat and said: "You are a waiter at the bar across from here,
aren't you?"

"Yes," Antonello answered and looking at him more closely, realized he
was a tourist, a customer at his bar.

"Your name is Antonello, right?" the other asked with a smile.

"Yes."

"My name is Patrizio. I live in Bergamo, I was born there. But my
parents are from here, so every year we come, the whole family -- we
still have relatives here. I always go to the bar where you work to meet
my friends. But you weren't here in the past, I'm sure. I would have
noticed you."

Antonello looked at him and nodded. The other smiled. He was a boy
probably one year older than him, with a square jaw, full and sensual
lips, a straight nose, gray-green eyes, well-separated eyebrows that
were fine but pronounced a high forehead, wavy dark-brown hair. And a
pleasant, barely hinted smile. All in all he was a very handsome boy.

The other, seeing he was observed, broadened his smile and said, in a
warm voice: "I would like to know you better, Antonello."

"I work all day long, every day. I don't have any free time," the boy
answered apologetically.

"What time do you close?"

"At ten p.m., but I have to go to sleep right away, because we open at
six in the morning."

"Don't you have a day off?"

"I gave it up..."

Patrizio's interest in him was evident, not only from his words, but
also from his glance. It wasn't a sly or provocative look (Antonello
would have recognized that easily) but an intense, attentive look that
said clearly, "I'm interested in you." So that way of looking didn't
embarrass or bother Antonello, but rather pleased him. While eating,
Patrizio from time to time talked to him, asked him questions and he
answered less and less with just monosyllables. In the end they said
good bye and Antonello went back to work.

On the following days he noticed Patrizio in the bar and they greeted
each other with a smile and exchanged a few words. In the evening,
Patrizio went more and more often to eat a pizza and sat at his table
and they chatted. Antonello could read in the other's attitude interest,
care, gentleness and warmth. One evening Patrizio wanted to pay for his
supper.

"No, thank you..." Antonello said.

"Please, I would like to. If you accept, it would give me pleasure. It
means you accept my friendship." In the end Antonello yielded. That same
evening he found Patrizio waiting for him at closing time, outside the
bar.

"Ciao!" Antonello said in surprise.

And Patrizio: "May I walk you home?"

"Alright, it isn't far, just a stone's throw."

But it was not just a stone's throw. They walked for a long time, along
the shore. At a certain point Patrizio stopped, looked into his eyes,
and said: "I shall tell you something..."

"Yes?"

"I was really pleased that you accepted my friendship."

"I am, too. I don't know anybody, here."

They resumed walking.

"I noticed. And yet you are a remarkable boy. At first you seemed a
closed-off type, introverted, but then I saw that it wasn't so. And... I
feel so good with you. Better than with my old friends. With you I can
really talk, communicate. Not just to have a chat, just to exchange
trivial and empty words. Do you understand what I'm trying to tell you?"

Antonello looked him straight in his eyes: "Possibly I do, I think so,
but..."

Antonello noticed they had again walked past the door of his place, but
didn't want to interrupt their conversation yet, so he continued to
walk.

Patrizio interrupted him and said: "In our society it is not easy saying
certain things, but I feel that I can say them to you. I feel you can
understand me, even if... even if you were different from me. I feel
that even a 'no' from you would be said with friendship..." and he fell
silent.

Antonello now knew what the other would have said to him but, for some
reason obscure even to himself, he wanted Patrizio to say it.

The other, correctly interpreting Antonello's silence as an
encouragement, added: "The first time I noticed you, I thought you were
a handsome boy. But in these two weeks since the first time we talked
with each other there in the pizza shop, I realized that your beauty was
not just physical. So then, day after day I felt more and more attracted
to you, to your personality. I wanted to know you, to gradually learn
more about you. And I very much like what I have discovered, the little
that I'm starting to know about you. That's why today I asked you to
become friends. Real friends, intimate friends, I mean..."

They were now walking along the strand. The beach, crowded in the
day-time, at that time of night was deserted. The light sea waves were
lapping the shore with a sweet murmur. Antonello understood that
Patrizio was sincerely offering him his friendship, but also something
more that he still didn't dare to express.

"Intimate..." Antonello said in a low voice, almost to encourage the
other. It was not a question, it was just taking note. Patrizio resumed
talking. They continued to walk side by side, without looking at each
other.

"Intimate, yes," Patrizio continued. "Because I also like you physically
and... you also attract me physically." He said it. But Antonello didn't
answer. So Patrizio added: "Do you see what I mean?"

"Yes, of course," Antonello answered in a level, rather sweet voice.

"And?" the other then urged with trepidation.

Then Antonello for the first time touched his arm, making him stop and
turn towards him.

He looked in his eyes and smiled: "Patrizio, thank you for telling me in
such a... tender way. Thank you for having courted me in such a sweet
and gentle way. In another moment I would have told you yes. In another
moment it would have been me asking you to be my boyfriend, to make love
with me, because this is what you are offering me, aren't you?"

Patrizio nodded, visibly moved, and his eyes shone.

Antonello continued: "I too like you physically, a lot. And I like you
very much also for your character, your personality. Your sweetness
fascinates me. And I would need sweetness, tenderness, warmth, even
protection, possibly. And I feel that you could give me all that, at
least as long as you remain here..."

"So, it's just because I'm leaving in a couple of months that you say
no? But if that's the only reason, we could try and see how it goes for
the next two months, and if we really suit each other as I think, as I
hope, I can move here or you can move to Bergamo. I'm not proposing a
summer romance to you, Antonello. I'm not interested in that, it
wouldn't be enough for me. What I'm looking for is... love, and I think
that with you..."

Antonello silenced him by putting his index finger on his lip, but
smiling: "Shush... calm down. Let me explain myself. With you even a
summer adventure would be great, I think. It would be worth living it,
enjoying it. And it could be the start of something more serious,
strong, and precious. But, as I was telling you, I can't."

Patrizio seemed to understand: "Are you already tied to another man,
then... I thought you were alone, forgive me."

"No, you have nothing to apologize for. I'm really alone, but..."

"So then? I don't understand..."

Then Antonello told him the whole story. By now they were sitting inside
a beached boat, close but not touching. Antonello told him everything,
sadly but in a calm voice.

At the end Patrizio said: "But if you have parted... No, that's silly of
me. Yes, I understand you. You are still in love with him, aren't you?"
Antonello nodded decisively, feeling a knot in his throat. "I now
understand the sadness that is always in the depths of your eyes, of
your smiles. I now understand..." Patrizio murmured. For a while they
kept silent, close together, each of them plunged in his thoughts. Then
Patrizio spoke again, in a low, sweet tone: "Antonello, I... I
understand that I can't take the place of your man, of his love, of his
memory. But my friendship... my friendship, can you at least accept
that?"

"Of course... thank you."

Patrizio tenderly encircled his friend's shoulder with his arm. He felt
Antonello stiffen slightly, so he told him, without letting go: "No,
Antonello, I'm not trying to make you... change your mind. You said
before that you need sweetness, tenderness, protection... I'm just
offering you that, if you want it. I don't want to bring you to... to
sex, believe me, the caress of a friend, the kiss of a brother, not the
caress of a lover. And only if you accept them, of course."

"I would like it, yes..." Anitonello murmured, "But then, can you resist
the desire to go further? Isn't it asking too much of yourself?"

"No, as long as you don't want to take our friendship further, I'll be
able to respect you, believe me. I told you, I feel attracted by your
body, it's true, but much more by you as a person. And a person not only
needs to receive tenderness, but also to give it. And I feel I want to
give it to you. Of course, if you told me you wanted more from me, I
would certainly not deny it to you. But it won't be me who goes beyond
the friendship I'm offering to you. I promise, because, before all, I
respect you. You believe me, don't you?"

Antonello nodded and squeezed Patrizio's hand on his shoulder. The
latter then bent toward him and placed a light kiss on his forehead and
sat up again, smiling at him. Antonello leant his head on his friend's
shoulder and they stayed there, in silence, each enjoying the sweet
proximity of his new friend.

From a clock far away came twelve strokes.

"It's late. Tomorrow morning you have to get up early. It would be
better if I saw you home, now," Patrizio said, moving to stand up.

"No, wait. Let's wait for the stroke of the quarter, then we will go,"
Antonello replied and they resumed the previous position, in silence.
Each of them felt the nearness of the other, and was grateful to the
other for sharing that sweet intimacy.

The next day when Patrizio went to the bar, they exchanged a glance full
of complicity. "Tired?" his friend asked him.

"Not at all. Thank you."

Patrizio went to sit at a table and greeted his old friends.

They continued to meet. Now they talked even more freely than before.
They told each other about parts of their lives, their most hidden
thoughts, and their friendship strengthened. Antonello told his boss he
was feeling somewhat tired and that it might be better if he took his
weekly day off. The master agreed without a problem. So, on a Wednesday
the two youths were able to spend the whole day together. Patrizio took
him to the open sea with his rubber motor dingy. When they stopped, they
went into the water to have a swim. Patrizio had given him a pair of his
swimming trunks. Then they got back in the dingy and, as they were
alone, they lay down half embracing. "Being so close to such a beautiful
body would have excited me," Antonello thought, and instead no, he felt
good, at peace. "I like feeling him so close to me, intimate, without
having everything spoiled by desire. It's wonderful..." But after a
while he had a doubt. He sat up halfway and looked at his friend, and
his doubt had a visible confirmation...

"But you... you are aroused, Patrizio," he said, slightly embarrassed.

"Yes, it's natural, with you so close... But I didn't try anything, did
I?" his friend said, looking at him somewhat surprised, somewhat
alarmed, screening his eyes with his hand.

"No... But... Doesn't that take too much out of you? I mean. Wouldn't it
be better for you if we weren't so close, if we avoided..."

"If that's what you want... but this feels great to me. One doesn't
always have to think about sex, does he? Even if the body awakens, the
mind still exists, and the will. Man is not just... an animal."

"Are you sure it doesn't take too much out of you?"

"No, don't worry. If it becomes difficult, I'll tell you."

"Wouldn't it be better if I didn't touch you?"

"No, on the contrary, I like being touched by you, because that way I
can feel your tenderness, your affection. And I too need them."

Antonello lay down again. For some moments he remained a little tense,
but then he relaxed and, to make his friend understand that he had
overcome the problem, he lightly caressed his chest and gave him a quick
kiss on the shoulder. Then he stopped, quietly. Antonello thought that
Patrizio was an exceptional boy and that, even without really wanting
it, he was giving him a precious thing -- real, deep respect. He thought
that if he had met Patrizio before meeting Roberto, he would have asked
him to become boyfriends. "Lucky boy who falls in love with you..." he
then said.

"Only if I fall in love with him, too..." his friend answered jokingly.

Patrizio had told him that he had had just one great love, up to then,
when he was sixteen years old. The other was twenty seven. They met on a
Sunday and the young man courted him, until he fell in love and gave
himself to the man, body and soul. They met during the day, almost
everyday, when he told his parents he was going to study at a friend's
home, or was going to play soccer at the church field, and instead he
ran off to meet his man. And the man covered him with attention, told
him he was in love with him, and that he was his only, true love. They
were together exactly one year. Until Patrizio discovered that in the
evenings, when he had to be at home, his man went out with his car to
cruise and brought other boys home, many other boys... So he left him.

"I would have forgiven him a mistake like yours, Antonello, and even
more than just once. But how do you forgive an on going habit, a
different boy every night. After we met at my brother's wedding, and he
started to seriously court me, he never stopped cruising, that wicked
man. But then, how could he tell me he loved me that he belonged to me,
when on the contrary he belonged to everybody? I wasn't interested in
having a lover in joint ownership!"

Antonello thought these words over. Roberto, on the contrary, hadn't
forgiven him, not even for just the one time. Yes, Patrizio was truly
exceptional. And yet he was not able to fall in love with Patrizio,
because his heart was still full of Roberto. There was no place for
anybody else.

Patrizio gave him one of the pictures he shot at the pool, a very
beautiful one. And in the dedication, on the back, he wrote: "To my
dearest and truest friend, to my brother and confidante, with deep
affection, Patri."

One day, while they were going into the city, to see a movie, Antonello
asked him: "But in six years, how is it possible that you haven't found
a lover? You must have had dozens of them!"

Patrizio smiled at the implicit compliment: "Perhaps I'm too diffident.
Perhaps I ask too much, I don't know. I had good friends and lasting
relationships, but I never fell in love. For the whole eighteen months
that I was in the army, I was with a boy from Liguria who served with
me. We shared affection, and very pleasurable sex... we were very good
friends... but nothing more."

"You'll find somebody, I'm sure. You are too splendid to..."

"To?" Pastrizio asked, amused.

"To be wasted," Antonello answered, caressing his hand.

Patrizio squeezed it, moved. "Thank you," he murmured simply.

When Antonello went to his bank to deposit his two weeks' pay, he was
told that he had received a money transfer. "That's odd, it's just the
middle of the month, it's not time yet for me to be getting the money
from the shop," he murmured as the clerk handed him the form. And he saw
it was a transfer of twelve lira and under "reason for payment" was
written "awaiting a fast reply." He looked for the name of the sender
and a moment before reading it he realized it had to be Sebi. Twelve
lira! He smiled Sebi was evidently looking for him, and urgently. He
started to worry. "Good Lord, just so nothing has happened to Roberto!"
he murmured in alarm while leaving the bank. He felt agitated. He would
have liked to run to the village, to meet Sebi, or even to go to see
Roberto... No, he didn't have that much courage he didn't feel like
meeting Roberto. But Sebi yes... but he had to go back to work. He went
back to the bar, tense, thoughtful, worried. Patrizio was in the bar,
saw him come in and immediately noticed his friend's expression. He
stood up and went to the counter where Antonello had started to wash
cups and glasses.

"Problems?" he asked.

"Can you meet me for lunch at the pizza shop?"

"Sure. What time are you going?"

"Twelve thirty."

"Are you OK?"

"No."

"I can see that. We could go now..."

"No thanks. Later is OK."

Patrizio looked at him worriedly, but nodded. He went back to the table
with his friends. One of them asked him, "What did you order?"

"Nothing."

"Then, what were you telling the waiter?"

"That I'm in love with him!" Patrizio answered in a challenging tone,
looking him straight in the eye.

All the friends burst into laughter without believing him and another
friend said to the first: "You asked for it! Well done, Patrizio!"

At lunch Antonello told him about the money transfer, about the message
and his fears.

"Tomorrow is your day off you can go see Sebi tomorrow morning, can't
you? Just a few more hours... And until then, don't assume the worst."

"But that 'fast'..."

"To me, it's the twelve lira that seems odd ... doing a transfer for
twelve lira, not even the price of a coffee."

"No..." Antonello smiled. "You know who Sebi is, don't you?"

"He was your first boyfriend in the orphanage."

"Yes, I was twelve years old. And when I asked him 'how much am I worth
to you?' he always answered, 'Twelve lira,' like my age."

"I see. But then, why send you twelve lira instead of twenty-two? You're
twenty-two now, aren't you?"

"Maybe he wants to tell me I am still a little kid... I don't know. Or
he wants to remind me of those days for some reason..."

"Doesn't Sebi have a telephone?"

"No. There's one at the garage, but I don't even remember the name of
the garage. I could go there, anyway."

"Well, then go there tomorrow morning."

"Patrizio..."

"Yes?"

"Would you come with me, tomorrow?"

"Of course I will go willingly."

The next morning they went, on Antonello's bike. Reaching Sebi's
village, Antonello easily found the garage where his friend worked. They
got off the bike and entered.

"Sebi!"

"Oh, Antonello!" his friend answered his face lighting up with a wide
smile, then said to the owner: "I'm just going outside for a minute."

As soon as they were outside, Antonello asked him, "Has something
happened?"

"No, I just wanted to talk with you."

"Roberto..."

"He is fine, as always. But who is that guy?"

"A close friend."

"Your boyfriend?"

"No, just a close friend," Antonello repeated.

"Now I don't have enough time. I want to talk with you without having to
hurry. Can we meet for lunch? Is that OK?"

"Yes, and I'll pay for the lunch."

"Good, thanks."

"But... can't you give me a hint..."

Sebi felt the worry in his friend's voice and said: "Nothing serious or
bad, don't worry. I just have to talk with you. See you later, then,"
and went back into the garage.

Patrizio and Antonello took a walk around the village and Antonello told
him a lot of things about Sebi, trying to kill time and not think the
worst. They met at half past noon in the restaurant in the main square.

Sebi, managing not to be heard by Patrizio, asked him: "Does he have to
be with us?"

"Yes, of course."

"I have to talk with you about things..."

"He knows everything about me, everything..."

"Do you make love with him?"

"No, he is just a very close friend, I told you."

"Alright, but he is a hunk, with a capital H!" he whispered admiringly,
than in a loud voice said: "Let's go sit there, under the trellis." He
chose a secluded table. Antonello introduced them to each other then
they ordered their meals.

Then Antonello asked: "So then, Sebi? What's up that's so urgent?"

"You are."

"Me?"

"Yes you. Do you have a job, now?"

"Yes, a very good one. I'm a waiter in a bar. You know I like that job."

"And where do you live?"

"I live in a bread and breakfast; it's pretty ugly but really cheap."

"Do you have a boyfriend?"

"No, I told you."

Sebi nodded, but looked at Patrizio.

The youth smiled and said: "Not even a fling, I can attest to that."

"Oh, all right. And why don't you have a boyfriend?"

"Well... isn't that my own fucking business?" Antonello answered
frowning.

"Yes, without a doubt it is your own fucking business, literally, but...
I was your first boyfriend. I feel somewhat responsible for you..."

"Listen, daddy, I am well past being of age, now!" Antonello retorted in
a challenging voice.

Sebi crossed his fingers, made them crack, and then scanned Antonello's
face: "Since you call me daddy, I can also smash your face, which I
didn't ten years ago. You really are worth just twelve lira."

Antonello flared up but Patrizio put his hand on his wrist, without
saying a word. At that contact, sweet but firm, Antonello calmed down
and lowered his eyes.

Then Sebi resumed talking: "Listen, Antonello. I love you. You know
that, at least, don't you?" The boy nodded. "And I presumed you
considered me a friend..."

"You are..." Antonello murmured, almost apologizing for his outburst.

"You didn't show it with your answer. This is not my fucking business, I
agree. But it is the fucking business of my dearest friend and therefore
it concerns me too, very much! Therefore now either you answer me calmly
and sincerely, or I'll tell you to go fuck yourself and get back to my
job."

"You have to eat first..." Antonello said in an apologizing tone.

"Yes, if you don't make me swallow it the wrong way," Sebi retorted, but
softening.

"Ask me," Antonello simply said.

And Sebi asked, and Antonello answered sincerely. Yes, he was still in
love with Roberto. No, he was not interested in anyone else (and looked
at Patrizio, who smiled). Yes, he was ashamed of what he did with Tom.
No, he didn't dare to meet Roberto. Yes, he wanted to ask his
forgiveness, but he was scared of another refusal. So, through the whole
lunch, they talked.

In the end Sebi told him: "I am not speaking on Roberto's behalf. But I
think that he needs you as much as you need him, if not more. And I
think it is stupid, absurd, and idiotic if you don't meet. What do you
think, Patrizio... that's your name, isn't it?"

"Yes. I completely agree with you," the youth answered.

"But if... if he... if instead of settling things, it just gets worse?"
Antonello asked with a hint of voice.

"Well, if you don't meet, things will definitely not get better. And if
they get worse, that would just mean that he doesn't deserve you," Sebi
answered.

Patrizio added: "And anyway... Sebi and I are here, and we love you, and
we won't leave you alone, in any case. But Sebi is right you have to
meet with Roberto."

"But... how? Where? When?" The boy asked, bewildered.

"You ask me, how, where, and when.  Think about it, but don't think too
long. Now I have to get back to work. Let me know. I did what I could,
and will do what I can."

As they were leaving the restaurant, Sebi said to Patrizio, "Stay near
him. Get him to decide."

"Of course, and... this is my telephone number, until the end of
September. Can you give me the telephone number of the garage?"

"Yes. Here, I'll write it," Sebi answered without questions. He felt
that Antonello was in safe hands.

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CONTINUES IN CHAPTER 9

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In my home page I've put some of my stories. If someone wants to read
them, the URL is
http://andrejkoymasky.com
If you want to send me feed-back, or desire to help revising my English
translations, so that I can put on-line more of my English stories
please e-mail at
andrej@andrejkoymasky.com

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