January 31st, 1955: I remember the date perfectly - Bruno didn't come home that night.
I was upset, confused. I was afraid something might have happened to him. I didn't know what to do. I spent the whole night torn between the desire to go out and look for him (but where?) and the need to calm down, to sleep (but that was impossible). The following morning, around seven, I heard Bruno coming in. I rushed out of bed and we met in the hall. I was so relieved to see him safe and sound in front of me that I embraced him for joy. I sensed immediately that Bruno was tense, cold, distant.
I let go of him and looked at him in surprise: "What's up, Love? What's happened?"
He lowered his eyes and gave a long shudder that shook him from head to toe. Then almost in a whisper, he said: "I... I don't want to make you suffer, Andrea, I swear to God! After all you've done for me... but..."
"What's happened?" I pressed him, worried.
Bruno was visibly upset and, for the second time since I'd known him, burst into tears. I tried to embrace him again, but he broke free and murmured: "No, please... don't make it more difficult."
"But, what's going on, Love?"
"I... I'm confused... I... I'm going away, Andrea, I'm going to live somewhere else... with a friend of mine."
I looked at him astounded, incredulous: "You're... you're going away? You're leaving me? Tell me, please, what I have done wrong to you? Where did I fail?"
"No, it's not your fault, but I... I have to leave you. It's over, Andrea, over."
"But why? If I've done something bad, wrong, let's talk about it. I can try to change, to put things right if I can, if it's possible..."
"No, I told you, it's not your fault. The problem is... I've... I've fallen in love... with someone else."
"But why? What did I do wrong, where did I go wrong? In what respect was my love not enough for you? Tell me..." I begged.
"It's my fault, Andrea, my fault alone. Stop trying to put the blame onto yourself, please. Stop being so humble! I hate myself for hurting you. Can't you be more human? Can't you hate me for what I'm doing you? I didn't think it could happen but it has happened, and it's my fault, because I believed... I dared to think I could avoid this risk... And instead... it happened."
I looked at him dumbfounded - he was visibly upset... and he was in love with someone else... just like that!
We talked for a long while. But Bruno had already made up his mind - he wanted to leave. And he didn't want to take anything with him. He even left the keys of his car, my insistence that he should keep them was in vain.
He almost ran away. And I stayed behind, alone.
Of course, I thought, it was only natural he should fall in love with a boy his own age - Bruno was sixteen years younger than me! Suddenly I felt an old man, useless, drained. Yet I could not be angry with Bruno. He would be happy... more than he was with me...
"Be happy, Bruno..." I said to myself, " you, at least."
For several months my life was empty and had no savour. I plunged myself into my work, but I missed Bruno. Terribly. At times I thought I should look for him... after all, it wouldn't have been difficult to trace him... But then I never did it; I didn't want to bother him.
The first of May 1955 came, Bruno's twenty-fourth birthday. I bought a present for him and put the parcel with his belongings, which were all still in the apartment just as he had left them. Months were passing - all the same, all empty. In Summer I went on holiday to England, to my Sunshine Hut in Sittingbourne. There, in solitude, I recalled Michel, Ben, Jussuf... and my Bruno. It really is true that happiness cannot last forever! I never had been able to take Bruno with me there, to the Sunshine Hut. And yet, even there I could feel his presence too... and I felt ill.
Back in Florence, I immersed myself in my work once again. Every time I went home, I felt surrounded by Bruno's memory and all the beautiful moments I had spent with him. At times I deluded myself that I might find him there, waiting for me. I was missing my Bruno so much! I tried not to think about him, but it was absolutely impossible. I started to go out again, to see my friends... and I started to drink. I never got to the point of being really drunk, just enough to numb myself a little, so I could go home feeling physically light, and spiritually empty, and I would sink into a heavy, dreamless sleep. At times I also went out cruising, and allowed myself some little adventures, but I always refused to see the same partner more than once. And I always gave the University a wide berth, afraid of meeting Bruno and not being able to resist the temptation to talk to him, to beg him to come back to me.
In September of that same year I decided to buy a second apartment, in the Via del Consolo - I didn't feel like living any longer in the apartment I had shared with Bruno. I didn't bring anything from the old place, not even my clothes. I wanted to start again from scratch. But at the same time, I didn't want to get rid of the old flat.
A few months later, I met twenty-two-year-old Antonello. I met him one evening in Cascine Park. Cruising slowly in my car looking for an adventure, a one night stand, I caught a glimpse of him, standing near a tree. I liked his silhouette, so I braked and backed up. He looked towards me, approached my car and leant in to the window, smiling. He was a handsome boy, and I liked him at once, much more than any I had picked up previously. From his smile I vaguely sensed that his beauty was not merely physical.
"Have you got a light?" he asked.
"Sure." I answered, opening the door on his side.
He got in beside me and pulled out a cigarette. I lit it and when he put his hand on mine, my hand trembled.
"Ciao. My name is Antonello. Yours?"
"I'm... Andrea."
"Are you looking for someone?"
"Yes, but maybe I've found him." I answered with a slight smile.
Antonello smiled too, then asked: "Do you have a place?"
I took him to my apartment in Via del Consolo. As usual, I took him straight into my bedroom and undressed him. He undressed me. But unlike my usual partners, Antonello started with long and really pleasurable preliminaries, full of calm gentleness. He stayed with me till the following morning, giving me a splendid night.
"Hey, it's almost time for me to get ready for the office!" I exclaimed looking at my watch.
"All right. Do you have the time to see me home?" he asked.
"Where do you live?"
"Behind Santa Maria Novella."
We went to the Central Station bar for breakfast.
"Can we see each other again?" Antonello asked.
I was about to answer 'no', but I thinking of the more than pleasant night I'd just spent with him, I answered hesitantly: "Perhaps..."
"I... I'd really like it if you..."
I looked at him in surprise. Not so much because he wanted to see me again, but because I wanted to see him again too.
"So then, Andrea, can we meet again?" he persisted, with a distinct note of hope in his voice.
"Perhaps..." I repeated, torn.
"Why 'perhaps'? Don't you like me? If that's the case, I'd prefer a straight 'no'. I don't like to deceive myself..."
"No, I like you very much. The fact is..." I said, and explained to him about Bruno, and about how much I was missing him.
He listened to me, then concluded, almost taking the words out of my mouth: "Yes, I see. You don't want to get involved again, for two reasons..."
I looked at him in puzzlement: "Two reasons, you say?"
"Yes - first, you still feel tied to Bruno and you hope he will come back to you. And second, you are afraid of being disappointed again. Am I right?"
I thought - the first reason was certainly true... and yes, the second one too! I nodded.
Antonello took my hand: "I felt so good with you, last night! So I would like to see you again. No sentimental complications, I promise. Just sheer, healthy, very beautiful sex. Are you game?"
I nodded again.
"So then, can we meet again?" he insisted.
"Yes, all right."
"When?"
"Tomorrow evening?" I suggested, almost finding it hard to speak.
"Sure, fine. Where?"
"I could come and pick you up..."
"OK. Here at the station bar at... eight?"
"Let's make it eight thirty." I answered.
He nodded with a smile.
I didn't think again about Antonello until the following evening, when I suddenly remembered our date. I managed to make it to the station in time. Antonello was already there, waiting for me.
"Been waiting long?" I asked him.
"Just arrived. How're you?"
"Fine, and you?" I answered, happy to see him again.
"Fine. Shall we be off?"
"Are you in any hurry? Do you have to get home soon?"
"No. I can stay out all night if you like."
"But... your family?"
"No problem. I live just with my brother and we're quite independent."
"Younger than you?"
"Older - he's twenty-seven."
"Well then, if you're not in any hurry, what about going to see a movie?"
"If you want to."
"Have you already had supper?"
"Yes - you?"
"Me too."
We went to see a movie, then back to my place, where a second splendid night unfurled. Antonello was very different from Bruno, especially physically - he was a thin boy, blond, a nice model's body, manly yet gentle at the same time, virile and yet faintly boyish. He had a smile that was somewhere between sly and perky, at times he was thoughtful but more often cheerful. But his character was anything but childish - he was deep and remarkably balanced.
We started seeing each other at the new apartment in Via del Consolo; at first a couple of times a week, then three, then more; he would often stop, sometimes for a couple of days. I felt good with him. My life was sweet once again, even though I never stopped thinking about Bruno. At times I talked about him too with Antonello, who listened attentively and didn't seem annoyed to hear how much I was still in love with Bruno. Once I even asked him if it annoyed him, or made him sad, listening to me talking about Bruno.
"Of course not. You're in love with him, it's only normal you should think about him and often need to talk about him. Why should I be annoyed? What we have between us is just friendship, we might even say affection, but not love. That was the agreement, wasn't it? And you talk about the things that are important to you with friends, don't you?"
"Sure."
"You know I'm not the romantic type, don't you? Just good, healthy sex. And friendship."
I embraced him gratefully.
When we both had some free days, we would often go for short trips together. Antonello was a primary school teacher. So, with school holidays and long week-ends, we were able to make some enjoyable outings.
It was during one of these trips that I discovered an aspect of Antonello that made me curious. It must have been February 1956. We were leaving Florence on a Saturday, at lunch-time, as soon as he got out of school. We'd decided to go and see the mosaics in Ravenna. On the Sunday morning I felt him getting out of bed. I looked at my watch - it was only just gone seven.
"Good morning, Antonello. How come you're such an early bird?"
"Sorry, I was hoping not to wake you..."
"It doesn't matter. But what're you doing? Are you getting dressed?" I asked, astonished.
"Yes, go back to sleep. I'll be back in less than two hours."
I stood up, still somewhat sleepy but curious now: "Where're you going?"
"To Mass. It's Sunday." came his unaffected reply.
After all these years, I felt a pang of nostalgia awakening in me, so on impulse I exclaimed: "I'll come with you!"
"Hurry up, then." Antonello answered.
We went to Mass. He took Communion.
Later, while we were out, I asked him: "Sorry, Antonello, but how can you reconcile...?" and stopped.
"What? Sex and religion?" the boy asked with his usual sweet, sly smile.
I nodded, looking at him intently.
"I absolutely don't see any problem. Saint Augustine says 'love and do as you please'."
"And... do you love?"
"I do my best."
"And so... you do as you like." I concluded, pulling his leg.
"Sure. Because if I really do it with love, what I do cannot be evil."
"But the Church doesn't seem to share that view."
"I know that unfortunately many priests and the Pope don't agree. But the Church... all of us are the Church, and the Holy Scriptures are our first reference... but the only law is Love. With a capital L."
"But the Holy Scriptures condemn homosexuality." I insisted.
He looked at me with a curious expression, smiled then said: "I'm not a theologian or a bible scholar. If you're looking for a theological debate, I'll get you to talk with Father Stefano."
"A faggot priest?" I asked snidely.
"No, what's that got to do with it? He's a splendid man, a real holy man. It was him who helped me to finally understand myself, my sexuality, and my relationship with our Lord."
That was where the discussion ended, on that occasion. But I recalled these words. I went to Mass with Antonello again, when I was with him on Sundays. I also gradually became aware that he often prayed during the week as well - in short, he was not just a Sunday churchgoer, but committed and serious, though not a bigot... yet he was calmly living his sexuality with me; living it in a sunny way.
I became increasingly attracted by Antonello; not just on a physical or friendship level, but also by his personality, which I was discovering to be deeper and more complex than I had suspected.
On May 1st 1956 I bought a present for Bruno's birthday and, for the first time in months, I set foot in the old apartment again, where I left it. Going there again, the burning memory of those happy years spent with Bruno assailed me with undiminished violence.
The following Sunday, for the first time, Antonello asked me explicitly to go with him to Mass. The celebrant was a young priest and, I have to say, really handsome; of a peculiar beauty - I must say more priestly than just physical. He gave a fascinating sermon, explaining that Sunday's text with such enthusiasm and sincerity that I felt touched. If a "man of God" existed, this priest was it!
After the mass, Antonello said: "Come along" and led me through to the sacristy.
Here, the young priest who was removing his vestments greeted him with a warm smile: "Hey, Antonello, welcome! How are you?"
"Very well, thanks, Father Stefano. This is Andrea..."
The young priest extended his hand with a smile: "Welcome to you too, Andrea." Having finished removing his vestments, he asked Antonello: "Is this the Andrea you've told me about?"
"Yes, the very same."
"Good, I'm pleased to meet you at last. And congratulations on your beautiful friendship."
I felt terribly embarrassed. Somebody came to call the priest.
"Can you wait just a moment?" he asked.
"Of course, Father Stefano." Antonello said.
As soon as we were alone, I asked: "But... does he know about us?"
"Sure."
"But... everything?"
Antonello laughed like a child: "Everything. Of course I don't tell him what we do in bed, but he knows we make love, if that's what you're afraid of."
"And...?"
"And he is glad for me, for my happiness." Antonello concluded.
Father Stefano come back: "Come on through to the presbytery, so we'll have some peace and can chat a while."
He led us into a really poor and simple kitchen, where we sat around the table.
"You were right, Antonello, he seems a very good man, your Andrea..." the young priest began.
I interrupted him, embarrassed by the compliment: "What do you know, Father?... I could be a wolf in sheep's clothing..."
"No... it's enough to look into your eyes, to see how you move, how you talk. A wolf in sheep's clothing always retains his wolf's eyes, wolf's movements, wolf's voice..."
"But, Father, you..."
"Listen, why don't we just call each other by our names?"
"All right... but you, Stefano..."
We talked for a long while, frankly and without mincing words.
To say that Father Stefano fascinated me, would be an understatement. I don't say on a physical level, but on an intellectual and even more, on a spiritual level. He was a real saint, but such a lively, alive, likeable saint... so deeply human as only one who is touched by God could be. His physical beauty, undeniable for all that, was just the sheer expression of this.
I met with him several times and gradually, thanks to him, I found again not so much my faith, which after all I had never lost, but rather the devotion that I had abandoned for years. And contrary to all my fears, not only did my relationship with Antonello not cease or slow down, it actually became better, as now we could we had something more in common, we felt closer, more united.
Besides the theological and scriptural explanations that Father Stefano gave me, one sentence of his struck me deeply - "One day our Church too will understand that Jesus Christ saves gay people not 'in spite' of their sexuality, but 'through' their sexuality, like the so-called 'straight' people, if they try to live Love with all their might."
I gradually became aware that I was becoming emotionally attached to Antonello well beyond the pleasure he gave me when making love, and well beyond the pleasure of his company. Yet I could neither forget Bruno, nor stop wishing he hadn't deserted me. Once I thought I saw him in the distance, and left at once, my heart in tumult.
In 1957 I received an invitation from Jussuf to go and spend a month in Qatar, for a special ceremony. I wrote back that I would be happy to go, and asked if I might bring Antonello with me as well. He answered that the invitation was for both of us. He also asked me to bring with me the ceremonial robes he had given me and the insignia of my rank.
So, in April, Antonello asked for a month's leave from his school and we flew to Qatar. We were met at the airport by a guard of honour, who escorted us to the Palace where we were to stay. Jussuf welcomed me with real warmth. He introduced me first to the Sheikh and his Court.
Next he introduced me to his wife and children. And lastly, to his personal secretary: "Here, Selim, this is the Andrea about whom I have so often spoken. Andrea, this is Selim, my lover for seven years."
Selim was a really fascinating young man and, judging from how he and Jussuf were looking at each other, they had to be deeply in love with each other, which gave me real pleasure. We spent a splendid month, and for the first time I almost managed not to think about Bruno.
Jussuf asked me how long I had been with Antonello, so I told him about Antonello and then about Bruno too.
At the end, he asked me: "So do you love Antonello?"
"Well, I feel very good with him, I do love him, but I'm not in love with him. He knows that and things are fine like this."
Jussuf looked at me oddly: "It may be fine for you, but for him...? Are you sure it's really all right for him too?"
"Yes indeed, we've talked about this quite explicitly."
"I hope you are right... and mainly for Antonello's sake. I feel he is a dear boy and... well, best of luck to you both."
Then he told me about himself, and how he had met Selim. When they met, the boy was twenty and a university student. Jussuf was on an official visit for the inauguration of the new university building and, after the official lunch, he had suffered a sudden mild seizure. He withdrew to another room and Selim was sent to look after him. Jussuf had been struck by the boy's sensual beauty, so asked him to go and see him at the Palace. When the boy went, he had told him he desired him. The boy gave himself to Jussuf without the slightest hesitation, and Jussuf became aware that Selim didn't accept just out of fear or respect or... but he loved men too and was fascinated by him. They gradually fell in love and Jussuf stopped looking for other boys to cheer up his nights. He asked Selim to become his lover, and the boy accepted joyfully.
"Unlike with the other boys, with him it is as it was with you. It's not just I who takes and he who gives. And just like with you, I couldn't say if I prefer the way he lets me take him, or the way he is able to take me. Thanks to him, I am the happiest man in all Arabia..."
When we left Qatar, Jussuf gave us both a present - a cigarette case, with his country's emblem set in small emeralds and diamonds.
Antonello couldn't believe to his eyes: "Wow... but... it's worth a whole year of my salary!"
"Undoubtedly." I confirmed.
"And... for me as well? But why?"
"Because Jussuf loves us, and this is his way of telling us."
Back in Florence, we resumed our normal life.
New Year 1958 came round.
I decided with Antonello to spend the holiday in Naples. There we encountered Bruno - he was staying at the same hotel. As soon as I recognized him, before he could see me, I went immediately to my room.
Antonello immediately sensed that I was deeply upset: "What's up, Andrea? What's happened?"
"Nothing... nothing..."
"Come on! Your face looks so upset... almost as if you've seen a ghost..."
"A ghost? Yes, something like that..."
"What did you see? Who did you see?"
I hesitated a long while then, under his pressure, I answered: "Bruno is here, in this hotel... We must leave immediately, before he sees me. We'll move to another hotel."
"Why? Wouldn't it be better if you confronted..."
"Bruno?"
"No - yourself. Do you want to be running away all your life?"
"No... But I don't want to meet him, to talk with him."
"Why not?"
I didn't answer. I felt the blood hammering in my temples. I was resolute, so we moved to another hotel. But, without my knowing it, Antonello went back to the previous hotel, looked for Bruno and met him. Only much later did I find out what they said to each other, from Bruno.
Back at the old hotel, Antonello had asked about Bruno, whose last name he remembered clearly. Having introduced himself, he said "I'm sorry, Sir... you don't know me, but I know you quite well, and I'd like to have a talk with you..."
Bruno looked at him questioningly: "Yes?"
"I'm a friend of... Andrea Nike."
Bruno went pale: "Has he... sent you? Is he here?"
"No, in fact, he doesn't even know I've come to see you."
"Then... I don't understand..."
"I've been living with Andrea since the end of 1955..."
"Ah, I see."
"You left him three years ago."
"True." Bruno said with a brief sigh.
"Well, you see... Andrea has never forgotten you. He is still in love with you."
"But... he's living with you now, isn't he?"
"Yes. That is, yes and no. To him I am just a dear friend, but I have not taken your place, believe me. It would be impossible for I, or anyone else, to take your place. Andrea, in his whole life, has been in love with few people - Michel, Benjamin, Jussuf... and above all you, Bruno. After you, there is no room left in his heart for anyone else."
"I know... but I... I betrayed his love. I proved myself unworthy of it, unfortunately."
"Forgive me for daring to ask, Bruno but... are you still with the person for whom you left Andrea?"
"Who, Michele? No, that only lasted six months."
"Only six months? Did this Michele leave you that quickly?"
"No, I left him, because I realised that ours was not real love, but just infatuation... and what I needed was love."
"But why didn't you go back to Andrea?"
"How could I face him, after what I'd done to him?"
"But... were you in love with Andrea?"
"Yes, even if I only realised it too late."
"And... are you still in love with him?"
"Damn it, yes!" Bruno said with a sob.
"But then... Andrea is still in love with you too. Forgive me, Bruno, but... are you free now?"
"Sure. I haven't had, I haven't wanted anyone else since."
"Then go and see Andrea!"
"But... what about you, Antonello?"
"As I told you, I'm just a friend to him."
"Yes, but what is Andrea to you?"
"Does it matter?"
"Of course it does. I want to understand, I need to understand. Tell me the truth, Antonello, please."
"I... I'm in love with him. But he isn't with me. He loves me, sure, but he's in love with you, Bruno. And it's precisely because I love him, because I want him to be happy at last, that I beg you to go back to him, if you really love him."
"But how could I? I don't want to hurt you as well, Antonello. I've already made Andrea suffer..."
"Listen, Bruno... excuse me for being so familiar... Andrea is not happy; he needs you. I can give him pleasure, friendship, possibly even serenity - but not happiness. Only you can give him that. If you really still love him, go back to him. Andrea really needs you..."
"But you told me he wanted to move to another hotel, so..."
"Of course, because he is scared of himself, because he doesn't know that you are still in love with him. Oh God! Why have you two wasted all these years? Go back to him, live together again, I beg you!"
"And you?"
"I... I'll go back to Florence. I'll write a letter to Andrea... for you to give him."
"But... what if he doesn't want me any more?"
"That's a risk you have to take, if you love him. It's possible that at first he'll react strangely, but he does love you. Please try to get back together again!"
"Antonello... you must love him so much too! What are you going to do now?"
"I'm young. It's been really wonderful knowing Andrea... and meeting you too, Bruno. Life is beautiful. I'll find somebody to love me."
They talked a long time; in the end Antonello convinced Bruno. So he wrote the letter for me, went back to our hotel and, as I wasn't there, packed his bags and took the first train back to Florence.
Meanwhile I was waiting for Antonello at the pier for Capri where we had arranged to meet. I was waiting, completely unaware - when he'd left me he'd told me he was going to say hello to a colleague who always came to Naples for the holidays...
When I felt someone touch me on the shoulder, I turned with a smile, sure it was Antonello. I felt as if I'd turned to stone when I found Bruno in front of me. We stared at each other in silence for some seconds, both pale, both trembling.
At last I found the strength to murmur: "Bruno!"
"Andrea..."
"How... how are you?" I asked, my emotions in turmoil.
"I don't know... you?"
"Fine... awful... Oh God, I don't know either, Bruno... So much time's gone by..."
"Yes. At the end of the month it will be exactly three years... three long, terrible years..."
"Terrible?" I asked, taken aback.
Bruno lowered his eyes and murmured: "I would like... I'd like to talk with you... if you want to."
"I'm waiting for a friend..."
"But do you want to talk with me?"
"Yes... it would be best... but if he comes..."
"Antonello?" he interrupted.
I looked at him astonished: "Yes, Antonello. How do you know about him?"
"I meet him, just a short while ago. It was him who told me I could find you here. He gave me this for you..." Bruno said handing me an envelope.
I still have that letter. It says:
"My dearest Andrea.
While you are reading these words, I shall be on my way back to Florence. I beg you to read the whole of it patiently and carefully.
Since the day we met, you have never stopped loving Bruno, and for this reason you never wanted to, nor could, fall in love with me. This was our agreement, and we have both respected it - we have been just very close friends. The moment has come now to demonstrate my friendship, by stepping aside. I went to see your Bruno, whom I already partly knew, thanks to your memories. And I discovered that he is still deeply in love with you, certainly even more than before. Bruno didn't dare to meet you, out of remorse for what he did to you, for fear of a bad reaction from you, rejection, but more than all that, for fear of hurting you again, opening an old wound again that he hoped would have already healed.
But I believe that if two people are in love, nothing should keep them apart, no fear, no pride, no accident however serious, and more than anything, no one. Therefore, I pray you, I beg you, receive Bruno, listen to him, let your defences down...
Forgive me for daring to intrude in your life like this, giving you advice, telling you what you have to do, but if a friend who loves you can't do that, who can? And believe me, I am truly, deeply, your friend.
I thank you for all the good you have done me in all these years,
Your affectionate
Antonello"
I read the letter through and then read it again, then looked at Bruno. I was confused, almost trembling, upset.
"If we have to talk... it might be better to go somewhere else, where we can have a bit of peace." I said.
"If you want. Where can we go?"
I thought a while, then said: "I've got two tickets for Capri here... do you want to come?"
He nodded. Throughout the short trip we kept silent. I felt my head bursting, I had to make an effort not to tremble. Bruno too seemed to be feeling at least as bad as I did. We finally reached Capri. I took him to the hotel I'd already booked for myself and Antonello, and we went to the room.
"Make yourself comfortable." I told him, pointing to the chair. I sat on the edge of the bed in front of him: "So, then, Bruno... what do you want to talk about?"