Chapter 8
We were looking over the lagoon. On the deserted stretch of a sandy beach we seemed alone in this world. Distant roofs and spires were now immersed in a mist and looked unreal. The only tangible objects around were the wooden poles that were rising out of the water at regular intervals. They were gradually shrinking into the horizon, demonstrating perspective with almost mathematical perfection. I never knew their purpose. They simply indicated to me that the waters around here were mostly shallow. I looked towards Venice and my heart sank. I didn’t want to leave the island.
‘It’s a beautiful beach,’ I said. ‘It has such saturated tropical colours that December weather can do nothing to dull them.’
‘This is a very popular beach in summer. Trust me, you don’t want to see it in July. It may be hard to believe now, but it can get so badly overcrowded that it’s difficult to walk along the beach.’
‘I’m not surprised. Such a beautiful place so close to the metropolis.’
‘I still think you should come here in summer at least once. It has much more colour, you know. We have flowers here… No pun intended.’
I looked into his eyes, smiling.
‘I expected nothing less from this Isola…’
Francesco took my hand and pressed his forehead to mine.
‘C’mon!’ he called, ramming me and pushing me away. ‘Time to go. My shift starts in less than two hours.’
‘So soon?’ I exclaimed.
‘Well, we’ve had our break. You must be longing to go back to your life of luxury.’
I rolled my eyes as Francesco pulled me towards the footpath.
‘I’ve forgotten all about luxury, to be honest with you,’ I said, perhaps too quietly, because it didn’t look like Francesco had heard me.
In just over an hour I was sitting on my baroque settee, lost and confused. Francesco was already on his shift. I was alone. I didn’t know where to apply myself and, even worse, I didn’t know where I would go from here. I think the contrast between the basic intimate life on the island and this uncustomary, overpriced luxury was affecting me more than I had expected. There was more to it. I didn’t want to admit to myself that fear was starting to eat at me again.
On the island Francesco was mine, at least physically. He was with me. He was there for me. Here I didn’t even get to share him. He was always with the others and never with me. Not even a small proportion of him belonged to me here. I didn’t know him. I didn’t feel him. He was a secret room with doors firmly shut. It was my desperate attempt to open these doors that had brought me here, to the presidential suite. I was simply trying to buy him with this overpriced room, with these little treats. I had to face it, it was as simple as that.
It was exactly what I had tried to do with Luke when I was losing him, when he was detaching, when he was becoming a secret to me. And, truth be told, the novelty was wearing thin. It kept on happening to me. Was it even real? Had I really loved these two men or was it something else? Could it be my imagination, a game I was addicted to against my will? Oh!!!
I hung my head and grasped it in my hands. A secret of love or a lie? The same dilemma again? That verse I had written a decade ago returned to haunt me again and again. And did I really exist only with a touch of his hand or did my mind simply refuse to accept that it was only another move in this never-ending game? That all these sufferings, hopes and sacrifices were inconsequential?
I jumped to my feet and pulled the phone out of my pocket. If it was a game, I would play it to the end. I tapped out a text to Francesco: I really enjoyed our break. Thank you. I would like to return the favour. Please, make a few hours for me tomorrow evening.
It was a bit presumptuous of me to assume that Francesco could make time for me tomorrow, but I didn’t care. I called the reception straight away, before I heard from Francesco, and said,
‘Mimi. It’s Ralf. Could I have a gondola for seven tomorrow night and a table for two by the window at the Club del Doge.’
‘Yes, Ralf... Sir. Champagne in the gondola?’
‘Yes, why not? And one more thing. Don’t tell…’
‘I won’t tell him a thing.’
‘Thank you, Mimi.’
I felt better when I had made these arrangements. I looked at my phone. There was still no reply from Francesco. I didn’t hear from him for the rest of the day. It occurred to me that if I hadn’t made my little arrangements, I would be in a really bad way now, wondering where Francesco was and who he was flirting with. A boy or a girl? I burst out in girlish laughter. I didn’t care…
I left the hotel and had a stroll around Venice. I came back home late. I couldn’t help but check my mobile from time to time. There was no reply. I came back to my suite and threw myself on the bed. I didn’t undress and didn’t even take my shoes off. I was tired and I wanted to sleep, but couldn’t because I was cold. I pulled at the bedspread and wrapped myself in it. I managed to doze off after a while.
I woke up from a tug on my shoe. I looked down my body and saw Francesco at my feet. It was dark in the room.
Francesco was taking my shoes off. I was looking at him, still sleepy and disoriented, not knowing what to make of the whole thing.
He dropped my shoes on the floor and shuffled to the top of the bed. He slipped his hand under my shirt collar and I felt how pleasantly cold his hand was. I realised I was sweating. That was how I came back to reality. I was sweating under the blanket and three layers of clothing.
‘Let me take it off you,’ Francesco whispered, unzipping my jacket.
I allowed him to undress me. He only went as far down as my jersey. I felt relief as my skin was able to breathe now. Francesco pressed the palm of his hand to my forehead.
‘Your hand is nice and cold,’ I smiled.
‘Okay, let’s slip under the blanket.’
When we found ourselves clutched together under the duvet, I finally felt enormous relief that I was with Francesco once again, and it hadn’t even been a day since we had last seen each other. Since we had met in those strange circumstances by the canal, there hadn’t been a day so far without us seeing each other and spending some time together.
‘I’ve done it,’ Francesco mumbled as we were falling asleep.
‘Done what?’
‘Freed up a few hours tomorrow. What time do you want to see me?’
‘At seven.’
‘Here?’
‘No, at the gondola exit.’
‘Hmm… Sounds interesting. Dress code?’
‘Err… Smartish. I don’t know. Decent. Most importantly, be yourself.’
It occurred to me that maybe smart attire would be more appropriate, but I personally had no strength or will to overdress. I thought they wouldn’t dare to say ‘no’ to a man from a presidential suite.
We spoke no more. In the morning Francesco quietly disappeared from my room. He didn’t take a shower at my place.
I was restless all day again. I had no communication with him, but I would no longer go to look for him, mostly fearing what I might find. At seven I went to the gondola exit and Francesco was already there. I stopped, slightly startled. I had rather expected he would make me wait for him.
Francesco was dressed in a smart casual way, but on him I’d say it looked just smart. There was nothing casual about his dashing, sophisticated look. He could wear a fleece and it would look like a tuxedo on him.
‘You look fantastic,’ Francesco told me. ‘I haven’t seen this jacket on you before.’
‘Thank you. I’ve only just got it. I didn’t really have much on me when I arrived.’
‘I know…’ Francesco briefly looked down.
‘I think he’s here,’ I said, noticing a gondola approaching the entrance.
We pushed both parts of the heavily decorated door and stepped out on the landing. The light from our hotel reflected on the black lacquer of the gondola, and the gleam of the golden prow betrayed its sleek, elegant shape in the dark.
I stepped in first and swayed from my lack of experience with boarding vessels. Francesco leaned over hastily, catching me by my arm and supporting me around my trunk. He was very attentive and caring, you had to give it to him. It even overwhelmed me for a second, as I knew how fragile our relationship was and how little I should value this care. I squeezed his hand and let it go. But he didn’t let go of me until I sat down. Admittedly, Francesco was far more skilled in mounting gondolas. He sat down next to me without any difficulties and unfolded a blanket to cover both of us on this chilly December night. I discovered a bottle of Champagne next to me and winked to Francesco. The gondola quietly departed.
‘I don’t personally believe it’s the best form of entertainment you could find,’ Francesco said.
‘Really?’
‘You can’t keep warmth in your body even in front of an open fire. How long do you think you’ll last here?’
I chuckled.
‘In front of the open fire I was entirely wasted. I’m well rested now.’
I popped the Champagne and passed it over to Francesco to free my hands to get glasses. I peeped up at the gondolier. I considered our exchange with Francesco kind of tender, even intimate, and felt bad for the gondolier who had to hear it all. But I suppose he had seen worse.
We clinked glasses and I toasted Francesco.
‘So, how have you been doing?’ Francesco asked taking a sip.
‘I’m alright. And you?’
‘Same old… You know what I do for a living.’
You bet I do.
‘Don’t you just love how they move through the night?’ Francesco suddenly said, looking into the darkness of the water. ‘So silently, as though it’s an apparition… Being part of it is completely mind-boggling.’
‘True, it feels like we’re skimming over the water. It’s making me light-headed. Or maybe it’s the Champagne,’ I snorted.
‘Champagne certainly helps. Are we going to the Grand Canal?’
‘Do you need to ask? You’ll find out in a moment.’
It was only a few moments before we entered the Grand Canal. This space was well lit and appeared jubilant. The skimming sensation was gone. We suddenly became grounded and alert. I could hear human voices and rhythmic music was also reaching us from somewhere.
There was a bit of traffic here and we had to manoeuvre to approach the grand entrance to the Club del Doge. The terrace was gleaming with lights and the tables were still arranged on it. Not surprisingly no one had opted to take one of them.
When we moored, no one came out to greet us, but I was never further from complaining about bad service. I had well and truly left the stage in my life when I wanted certain moments to be just perfect. Perfection was not at all what I needed. I wanted to learn to live with imperfection. I wanted to make sure it would never derail me again.
Francesco stood up and leaned over me, holding me by the wrist and placing his arm around my shoulders. He was not taking any chances this time. And God, how nice it felt! I pushed up off my seat and found myself in his arms. Incredibly, I still managed to veer sideways and had to be picked up by the gondolier, so it was the two of them who delivered me to dry land. I thought I must have relaxed too much and leaned on Francesco too heavily.
‘Promise me this is a one-off,’ Francesco whispered into my ear as we were entering the restaurant. ‘You’re just not made for the high seas.’
I rolled my eyes in response.
We were finally greeted by a waiter and shown to our table, by the window, as arranged. Our evening was taking shape.
I loved this place. I loved its opulence, its stunning views any time of day or night, thanks to the illumination on the canal. And of course I valued the manners and the service, which meant you could just relax and not concern yourself with trifles. You had to pay for it, true, but whenever I could afford it, I would always pop over. Even when I stayed in a hostel…
It was a Venetian palace with the typical white ceiling crossed with wooden beams, floral but toned-down wallpaper and mirrors in gilded frames. Bouquets of flowers were everywhere - a giant vase of them in the middle of the room and small, tight flower arrangements on the tables. Tables by the window were the best, with the view of the fairy-tale palaces opposite, all gloriously illuminated, revealing their sumptuous interiors, welcoming with their grand entrances and colourful poles, rising out of the dark canal’s waters. You could see parties in some windows. Others would house restaurants. Gondolas would be sailing past all the time. It was very busy around here and the bustle reached you from outside even with the windows firmly shut.
‘Have you been here before?’ I asked Francesco.
‘I can’t remember. Not recently. I’ve been everywhere around here. So, on that basis I’ll say yes, I have. I gather you’ve been here.’
‘Yes, a few times. I didn’t stay in a presidential suite on all those occasions,’ I snorted. ‘Correction. On any of those occasions. There were a couple of times when I lived in a student hostel, but I still paid this place a visit.’
‘You’re drawn to luxury.’
‘I wouldn’t say that, no…’ I hesitated. ‘I like Venice. I’m just looking for quintessential Venetian things around here. The rest is a bonus. I like dining in style, but it’s all the same thing really. I want to taste Venetian style.’
‘You know, you have an incredible ability to glorify mundane things. To endorse basic impulses with spiritual qualities. We all like luxury. We all like wealth. It doesn’t need to be explained or justified. But you’re a poet after all,’ he chuckled.
I opened my mouth and fixed my eyes on him.
‘Cheers!’ Francesco raised his glass with a smile.
I clinked my glass against his and took a sip.
‘You’re really confusing me now,’ I stuttered. ‘When did I glorify the mundane?’
‘Just now.’
‘But you said I have the ability. I must have done it more than once. When?’
Francesco shrugged and replaced his glass. He briefly looked out of the window.
‘Well, when you said that your ex had left you because of you, because your principles and your lifestyle were more important to you, when in fact everything was so much simpler.’
‘Yes,’ I said and my eyes wandered. ‘Money again…’
‘Exactly!’
‘Is money important to you?’
‘I can’t say it’s not. But I don’t live for money. It’s good to strike the right balance, don’t you think? We do need to satisfy our basic needs and also have a bit of fun.’
‘I wish money played a more prominent role in my life. People preoccupied with material things hardly ever find themselves by the canal with a USB cable.’
Francesco’s face changed. His lips parted and his eyes began to glisten in the dim light of the ancient chandeliers. It surprised and touched me. He cared about me more than I thought. It pained him to be reminded about my ordeal, and I even regretted that I had mentioned it. I didn’t want to hurt him.
‘Sorry, I’m so sorry,’ I stuttered. ‘Let’s not talk about grim things. We’ve come here to relax…’
‘Listen, Ralf,’ Francesco sighed, passing his hand over his face. ‘Money hardly plays any role in my life. I get bogged down in emotions myself. Everything else is just a defence mechanism.’
‘And you should defend yourself. Of course! I want you to be safe.’
‘Ralf, I’m safe. But I’m worried sick that you are not.’
I locked my eyes on his. I could feel the uneven breath in his body and his irregular heartbeat.
‘I’m alright. You’ve done so much for me,’ I said. ‘You were a gift from God. The gods of Venice themselves sent you to me. I was in pieces when you found me and I could hardly remember my ordeal only twenty-four hours later. That is amazing!’
‘I know. But I can’t be with you all the time and when I’m not… I can’t be sure you’re okay.’
Yet you do surprisingly little about it…
I suspected my eyes became icy and uninviting, because Francesco suddenly moved away from me and leaned against the backrest. I didn’t know how best to reply to what he had said.
‘Naturally, things like these take time to heal, but thanks to you my recovery has been meteoric so far.’
We were going round in circles. Yes, he worried about me. No, he didn’t worry enough to sacrifice his bellboy lifestyle. What was I talking about? To sacrifice half an hour of his bellboy day. I had to spend a fortune to enjoy the pleasure of his company. In short, I had to behave exactly like his clients. Alright, alright… His employer’s clients. His defence mechanism was certainly in fine working order. Which couldn’t be said about mine.
Francesco was probably right and there was something wrong with me… physically. I would often get shivers for no good reason and I certainly couldn’t keep the warmth in my body when it was genuinely cold. On our way back from the restaurant a cold wind started blowing across the lagoon. When it blew along the narrow streets, it seemed to become worse still, getting trapped in tunnel-like passages.
I tried to keep a distance between me and Francesco in the gondola, so that he wouldn’t register my shivers. I didn’t even wrap myself in the blanket in case that attracted his attention, but it was hell. Getting ashore was the trickiest bit, because my shivers were so intense by then that my body became quite unruly. I had to jump onto the landing, so that my transition from the gondola would be too swift for anything to go wrong. It didn’t escape Francesco’s attention. He was following me with his gaze. I think he tarried to tip the gondolier, something I had completely forgotten to do, while I hurried inside. I didn’t want to wait for him, but sensibly realised that would be going too far.
He entered. I wasn’t looking at him, even though I was facing him. My trunk was leaning forward in an attempt to flex and combat my trembling. I had my hands in my pockets, because my hands would always betray me. I knew that Francesco was going back to work, and I was about to say ‘Bye’. Before I could, he stepped towards me and wrapped his hand around my neck, right over my skin, without any warning, without much ado. I gasped and looked into his eyes.
‘Come here,’ he breathed out, drawing me near.
He squeezed me tightly in his arms. And I just let it go… My body was convulsing and he was clasping me to his chest, and kissing my head and my neck and my shoulder. He wrapped his jacket around me and rubbed my back, but nothing was helping. I could no longer vouch that it was all to do with me being cold. I wanted to cry. I didn’t know what I was going to do, or how long I could last at this place, or how long I could last.
‘Baby, what’s wrong with you?’ Francesco was whispering. ‘I need to take you to bed. Can you walk?’
‘I have to…’ I croaked.
I felt an unbearable weakness in my body. He was right to enquire about my ability to move. Now I was absolutely certain that I was suffering a nervous breakdown. In my poor body physical and emotional were no longer apart. Recent events had completely ruined me. Unfortunately, Francesco had been right all along.
He took me to bed. He covered me with everything he could find. He clasped me to his chest and he didn’t move again. I fell asleep in his arms.
I woke up in his embrace and realised he hadn’t been to work. I was grateful he had taken me through the night. Even if this thing between us was not destined to last, I had to acknowledge I had no right to complain. He was doing all the right things. He was performing an extraordinary act of charity towards a complete stranger. It was my problem that I wanted more.
Francesco opened his eyes. They were red. He either hadn’t slept or was unwell.
‘Are you alright?’ I asked, passing my hand over his head.
He nodded.
‘You didn’t go to work.’
‘I couldn’t. I thought if I left I wouldn’t see you again. ‘
‘Was I that bad?’
‘I don’t know, I’m not a doctor. But you scared the shit out of me.’
An act of kindness? Ooh! My poor mind was in pieces. I could no longer understand a thing.
‘I’m sorry. I’m alright now. It was a chilly night last night.’
‘That’s the last time I consent to a gondola ride with you. You’re not very well, Ralf. Your mind is probably alright, but your body is still weak. I’m worried you may catch some nasty infection like that. You have no defences.’
He knew nothing about my mind, but I was pleased he cared so much about my body.
‘I’ll be alright,’ I smiled to him, cupping his cheek. Then I stopped smiling and said, ‘Please, don’t worry so much. I don’t want you to lose sleep over me. Just come to see me from time to time and I’ll be alright.’
We had breakfast in my suite together. I was sitting at the table wearing two cardigans at Francesco’s insistence. Our heating was set to 28 degrees, although admittedly it didn’t heat these spacious, historic rooms anywhere near that level. Francesco even ordered a shot of cognac and insisted I should empty it before he left. I didn’t usually drink in the morning, but I couldn’t refuse him. I could see how anxious he was.
He left and I spent the day on my own once again. I heard from Francesco only once with a short text asking how I was. It was surprising in the circumstances, but I was kind of okay about it. I had received proof of his devotion and I knew it was going to last me for a bit.
There was a knock on my door at about 11 p.m. My heart sank. I approached the door instead of inviting the visitor in.
It was him. In full uniform. He looked worn-out and was leaning on the door frame for support.
‘Come in. You need a proper night’s sleep,’ I said, wrapping my hand around his wrist.
‘No. I only came to check on you.’
‘Joking? Are you going back to work?’
He shook his head.
‘Have you had any problems?’ he asked.
‘No.’
‘Well, you remember what you promised…’
‘Yes, you don’t need to worry. I’ll let you know straight away.’
‘Look, I’m gonna go to my place. I need a rest. It was kind of intense last night.’
‘Oh, I’m sorry…’
‘Don’t be! It’s not your fault! And make sure you call me if anything’s wrong with you. But if you’re alright, I’d better go to my own bed. I only have four hours to sleep.’
I was shocked.
‘I have a big bed,’ I muttered. ‘And I won’t disturb you.’
He chuckled.
‘I know. Look, I’ll see you tomorrow. It’s only to do with me needing a rest. You scared me so much last night… and then I had a mad day at work.’
‘By all means you must do whatever is best for you. I won’t stand in the way. But I’m alright, please don’t worry about me. I wasn’t that bad yesterday either. It probably looked worse than it was.’
‘Come here,’ he said briskly and clasped me to his chest abruptly. My heart skipped a beat from fervour.
‘It may seem an overreaction to you,’ he said, ‘but please don’t forget that I’m the guy who took you out of the noose.’
I shut my eyes and sank my face onto his shoulder
‘These things never disappear without a trace,’ Francesco continued. ‘Something happened to me then, at that moment, something I will never be able to live down. I just can’t bear to watch you go to pieces. To me it’s that night all over again.’
‘I’m so sorry,’ I sobbed. I had tears in my throat. ‘I didn’t mean to do this to you.’
‘It’s not necessarily a bad thing. Time will tell. Will you let me go now?’
I released my embrace and looked at him. He cradled the side of my head.
‘Will you be alright?’
I nodded.
‘And you will keep your promise? Now that you know…’
I nodded again. I was too overwhelmed to say anything. He clasped my lips with his. I responded feverishly. He detached sooner than I expected and left without delay.
I couldn’t sleep that night. I struggled to embrace the enormity of the issues suddenly opening before me. To start with I was blaming myself mercilessly for my selfishness. For my blindness. For the fact that I had considered myself to be the only victim of that night. I hadn’t thought at all what effect my desperate act could have had on Francesco. Then even more difficult issues presented themselves to me. It seemed like Francesco had real, deep feelings for me. It was not just care from a caring person. It was something more. But what if I had simply given him PTSD ? What if I had ruined his psyche? Wasn’t it the same old question again - was it love or something clinical? Was it the secret of love or were our minds simply playing tricks on us?
I left my bed early morning and went for a walk. Venice was in mist again and St Marco’s Square was only a ghost of itself, rising in shadows out of the white shroud. Only the splashing of the waves was apparent and real.
I was so tired in mind and body that I regretted that I hadn’t succeeded in what I had attempted over the canal on the night we had met. I wanted to be at peace. It was no longer desperation or deadlock. It was pure exhaustion.
I loitered through Venice until the sunrise and beyond. It was becoming warm and comfortable when I felt completely exhausted and in need of lying down. I went back to my room, slumped on the settee and passed out. I woke up in the dark. I looked at the time - 10 p.m. I had slept all day. There wasn’t a single message from Francesco.
I didn’t know how long his shift was supposed to last and whether or not he was off for the day. I decided to take a walk around the hotel. I wanted to simply kill time, but accidentally I found myself passing the office. I couldn’t resist sneaking in. I looked at the board. Francesco was still on a shift. He was on call in the kitchen. After a moment of hesitation I went downstairs.
I entered the kitchen and heard his voice straight away. It was rather loud and lively. He had probably had a good rest by now. There was another voice there, which was also not difficult to recognise. It was Marianne. As usual, I hesitated. I knew I shouldn’t walk in on situations like this in order not to hear what I didn’t want to hear, but it was too late.
‘I’ll take a week off,’ Marianne said. ‘It’s been too hectic around here recently.’
‘A whole week?’ Francesco exclaimed. ‘And what about me?’
‘You’ll be receiving daily updates.’
I heard a smooch.
‘Maybe I should go away too,’ Francesco said.
My heart sank.
‘I’m dead,’ Francesco continued.
‘They’re not gonna let you go now. Try to take longer breaks. You can certainly do with a good night’s rest.’
‘I thought I’d had it,’ Francesco said with a touch of irony in his voice.
Marianne chuckled and I heard another smooch.
‘This is not rest by any stretch of the imagination,’ she said in a husky voice. ‘Not in a single bed.’
My jaw dropped. I left straight away. I could not remember how I reached my room and I do not know to this day what kept me alive then. Not only was I kept alive, but I also managed to reason with myself and consider my options.
One thing was certain. I was not the only visitor to the single bed under the roofs of Venice. Someone else had successfully managed to sleep there next to Francesco. Hmm… maybe not that successfully. She had complained about lack of space, and that was comforting. Francesco and I never used to notice how small the bed was. Nevertheless… It was obvious now why Francesco didn’t want to spend nights in my bed. Was that thing he had told me the night before even true? Or was it only an excuse to spend the night with Marianne?
Astonishingly, I didn’t make the decision to leave and clear out of Francesco’s life. Instead, I booked a table at Acquerello on St Clemente Island - a private island that housed only one development - a five star hotel. A gondola was no longer part of the plan. We were to walk to St Marco Square and take a private power boat from there. Francesco was waiting for me downstairs at 7 p.m. sharp.
We had yet another splendid evening. Francesco didn’t stay that night with me and I didn’t see him for almost two days afterwards. That was a little unexpected, taking into account that Marianne had indeed left. She had gone on holiday. But Francesco never failed to surprise me.
I did receive two short messages from him, a day apart. The first read ‘Please tell me how you feel’, and the second simply ‘Okay?’ That was my daily ration. On day three he popped over. We had Champagne and strawberries, then sex and coffee. Then he left and it was difficult for me to get hold of him again. I booked another treat for him, another luxury dinner. I was getting used to our little games. If only they could last.
The reality was bearing heavily on me by now. I was running out of money and I was beginning to panic about it. It didn’t escape my attention that Francesco never lectured me about prudent spending these days. He had become accustomed to lavish treats from me. I was no longer sure I could secure his company without the means to pay for the very best. That was how far I had taken it.
When I checked my bank account again, I had enough money left for only one more day. One day! I could use the overdraft facility for a couple more days, but then it was the end. Full stop. I could no longer afford any accommodation whatsoever, never mind a presidential suite, never mind a hotel room, any hotel room. I needed work urgently. I needed accommodation. I needed Francesco’s help, if I was to stay here and continue to cling to him.