Chapter 9
I decided to talk to Francesco. I had my tail between my legs. I had to essentially ask him to take me back to his room under the roof, to his single bed. After all that had happened! I could not even begin to imagine what would happen to me if Francesco told me he couldn’t help me. I honestly thought killing myself was easier.
I ran into overdraft while plucking up the courage. I spent two days without popping the question and was at the critical juncture of my budget. Eventually I went looking for him around the hotel. I thought if I made arrangements to meet, the momentum would be gone by the time I saw him.
I found him… but he was not on his own. Dominique was with him. They walked into the lift together, and I caught Dominique making a biting motion towards Francesco’s ear. Francesco curled his upper lip and growled, looking sideways at him. Then Francesco spotted me and forced the doors of the lift open, just as they were closing. He left the lift, waving to Dominique to continue on his way.
‘Ralf, are you alright?’ he smiled to me.
‘Yeah, just been for a walk.’
‘Without a coat?’ he exclaimed.
Silly me!
‘I was thinking of taking a walk…’
Francesco frowned.
‘Is everything alright?’
‘Yeah! I’ll have a coffee before I go. Would you like to join me?’
‘I’m a bit busy now. Do you need me now?’
‘Oh no! You’ve misunderstood. Whenever you’re ready. I’m just killing time, as usual.’
‘Okay, I’ll see you later then.’ He pecked me on my lips and went back to the lift.
I went back to my room and started thinking extremely hard about how to start this conversation with Francesco. If whatever he had to say was going to kill me, then so be it. But I just could not stay here anymore. That was a fact. I mentally took myself through our conversation, the version where Francesco was telling me to fuck off. I would have to leave this town where I couldn’t afford accommodation and would struggle to find employment. My part-time editorial position back home was still open to me and I had not yet been evicted from my old flat. I just needed to get there. It was my only chance, as my patrons were dead silent. I shut my eyes… I had tortured myself enough, but still didn’t figure out how I was going to live without Francesco. I had seen him almost every day since we met by the canal…
There was a knock on the door and I flinched.
‘Come in!’ I called.
Francesco burst in. He looked restless. His eyes were glaring. He held a piece of paper in his hands.
‘What’s happened?’ I exclaimed standing up.
‘Why did you throw it out?’ he cried holding the paper out with both hands.
It was my drawing. That pen drawing I had never shown him, because I’d caught him exchanging suggestive remarks with a guest.
‘Do you like it?’ I asked.
‘Like it? It’s amazing! Why didn’t you show it to me? It’s lucky I haven’t tidied my room in a while.’
He placed the drawing on the coffee table and cradled my face. He looked into my eyes.
‘You are my amazing, ingenious, precious soul… I’m so fortunate to have found you.’
‘Really?’ I beamed. ‘Perhaps you can stay with me for a bit?’
Francesco briefly looked at his watch.
‘Okay, I have a bit of time,’ he pulled me towards the bedroom.
That put me off slightly. I didn’t think in terms of carnal activities at the moment. But I couldn’t refuse Francesco.
I’d miscalculated him. He didn’t even try to play with me. He just wrapped around me and pulled the bed throw over us. He would always do that when we went to bed. The time was ripe to pop the question and I didn’t know what I was waiting for.
‘Those roofs of yours are amazing,’ Francesco whispered into my ear.
‘They were amazing on that day,’ I faltered, closing my eyes. ‘I was so excited when I had caught them. I so wanted to show them to you.’
‘And why didn’t you? What were they doing in this pitiful state in the corner of my room?’
‘I think I lost momentum and then it didn’t matter anymore…’
‘Once an artist, always an artist… Moments, momentums… They may be precious, but when they go, something solid remains. Your talent is the most precious thing of all.’
‘I don’t believe so. Not for me. It doesn’t help me when I need it most.’
‘Ha! It’s certainly helped you to stay here for so long.’
I fixed my gaze on him.
‘And you have the potential to earn another handsome fee. I appreciate that may not happen every time you need it to.’
‘I don’t know how long I’ll last here…’
‘Maybe it’s time to start networking?’
‘Networking? That’s not how I do it.’
‘How do you do it?’
‘I don’t. I’ve known the guy who bought my painting for a decade.’
‘Chances are you’ve known a dozen other guys for a decade.’
I didn’t want to continue this conversation. I wanted him to go. I rolled over onto my back and looked at the ceiling. Francesco did the same. The plafond of my bedroom depicted a party, evidently an ancient Bacchus’ party. The god of wine and a female, who was as masculine in appearance as the athletic deity, were riding chariots accompanied by a drunken crowd that included hovering cupids.
‘Look at this splendid bacchanalia!’ Francesco exclaimed. ‘Rather reminds me of us since you moved into this place, complete with cupids.’
‘Too many cupids.’
‘Maybe that doesn’t make them special, but it certainly gives you a few spares,’ he giggled.
That was the moment when something snapped inside me. That was the moment of mental clarity. In my mind I thanked Francesco for these words, whether or not he had loaded them with the meaning I read in them. I could suddenly see clearly that I was flogging a dead horse. The problem here was not at all that Francesco didn’t love me, didn’t need me. The real problem was that he didn’t really love anybody, and this multitude of cupids represented accurately what his life was all about. He was not made of the right material to share deep feelings, and this job suited him perfectly - twenty-four-hour shifts surrounded by charming co-workers, a never-ending current of guests of both sexes - never alone, but never too close to anybody. Keeping a distance, yet never lacking intimacy. A comfortable life, a life provided for. He was in effect kept, be it by the rich guests spoiling him with lavish treats, or by his employer, who at least provided basics he didn’t need to worry about. Damn right there was no place for me in his world. There was no place for anything or anybody. I had once resolved to keep Francesco in my life on any condition, but now I realised that it would be possible only if I didn’t love him so much. I absolutely could not afford to live in his little world with this giant red balloon bursting out of me. I wouldn’t survive, anyway. Running away or falling would always be my only two options.
‘I have to go,’ Francesco’s voice brought me back to reality.
‘Ah, okay…’ I uttered.
He stood up, took his cap from the bedside table and gave me the most elegant display of putting it on his head. His face spread into a fantastic smile and I knew that was the way I would remember him for the rest of my life. I tried not to dwell on it, because tears had already started welling up in my eyes. I shut them momentarily.
‘Ralf!’ he exclaimed.
I opened my eyes. He approached me on my side of bed.
‘Are you alright?’
Please, don’t do this…
‘Yeah, getting up myself,’ I said, hastily standing up.
‘Going into town?’
‘Yeah, need a stretch.’
‘I’m going out soon myself. Marianne gets back today. She’s asked me to meet her at the station.’
‘Oh, say hello to her from me.’
‘I will do. I may not be able to pop over tonight…’
‘Oh, don’t worry about that,’ I said, raising my hand. ‘Take all the time you need.’
‘I’ve got my phone and you know how to find me,’ he smiled and walked out of the room. Then I heard the front door shut.
I couldn’t sit down on the bed, hang my head, bury my face in my hands… I didn’t want to go to pieces. I decided to clear out as soon as possible, without thinking about what the hell I was doing.
I had only a few possessions with me. I decided to leave everything here. All those things had been bought for special occasions and I wouldn’t need them again. I wrote a note to the cleaners - ‘Please, help yourselves to whatever you find here’ - and took my small laptop case into which I had managed to fit my laptop and a change of underwear. Well, here I was, all packed and ready to go… Don’t sit down! I commanded myself.
I knew if I formally checked out, it would reach Francesco in no more than two minutes. I didn’t want to see him again and that’s why I decided to call them later with my news. I dialled reception only to settle the three last days of my stay. That was all I owed, as I had been paying in instalments throughout my stay to keep a track of my spending and not to miss the moment when I had to go. (I was far more sensible than Francesco thought.)
That was it. I had no liabilities here. I now had them with my bank. I snorted.
I took my briefcase and left my presidential suite. I visited the board room for one last time to check that Francesco was not at the front door. He, in fact, had a break that had started about an hour ago. I remembered about Marianne’s return. Hopefully he had already left and I could sneak out without spies wiring their reports.
I smiled to Mimi, passing reception swiftly, so that she wouldn’t notice my briefcase. I walked out and looked at the sun. I screwed up my eyes. I couldn’t see for a few moments after that, and when my eyesight returned to me, I had already crossed the bridge and reached the archway where I was about to turn. By now I knew the streets around here quite well and there was no longer any possibility of me losing my bearings here. Calle de la Malvasia no more.
I walked for a long time until I stopped recognising places. I had crossed the Grand Canal, so I knew I was somewhere in Giudecca – Francesco’s favourite area, the place where we had first kissed. I was cool about it. In the end this whole town would forever be associated to me with Francesco. We had been everywhere around here. I just had to learn to live with it.
I lost myself in the narrow streets and chose a small snack bar for my Aperol Spritz. I appreciated bare yellow walls, minimal light and wooden, unassuming seating. I realised my mind was drawn to everything plain to prevent any excitement. Any loose thought could trigger memories. I was a man on a mission, after all. I had to call the hotel from here to say I wasn’t coming back and discard my SIM so as not to say ‘good bye’ to Francesco.
Calling the hotel was quite easy. Mimi was evidently surprised. She even had the audacity to ask if Francesco knew about my departure. I gave her a firm ‘yes’ and hung up. The more difficult task was to discard my SIM. I couldn’t remember Francesco’s number by heart. Only my SIM had it… I opened my mobile and took out the SIM. After a moment of hesitation I dropped it in my drink. The tiny chip rested on the rock of ice. I took my straw and pushed it down until it sank to the bottom. I could no longer see it. Goodbye, Francesco.
I heaved a sigh. I’d allowed my actions to run ahead of my cognitive processes. I didn’t know how irrecoverable this SIM now was, but I had to acknowledge that my mood had plummeted. I had been able to maintain an emotionless calm until this moment, but now I was definitely down. I sipped at my drink.
It was not the end of the world, of course. I could go back to the hotel. I always could. I could always find Francesco, if it got tough. I could do it in a year. I could do it in two. Yeah, but after a year Francesco would barely remember my name. He wouldn’t need me. Hmm… He didn’t need me now. That was my conundrum. I couldn’t really go back. I had no place in Francesco’s life.
I emptied my drink in one swig and replaced the glass. I didn’t even feel like recovering the chip. It would serve no useful purpose. I left my tiny bar and directed myself to the tip of Giudecca. To the place where we had first kissed.
I went to the very edge and looked out into the open space. I was on the tip of the arrow. The wind was lashing against my face. I shouldn’t have come here. I remembered Francesco, the way I had seen him here, so open and vulnerable, so caring and engaged. It was only a glimpse into Francesco Di Fiore. The only moment when that magic door was open. He was a secret now and was to remain closed to me for eternity.
Even though I could accept that and bow to my destiny, what I found unable to accept was that I could just move on from where I was. I was standing there, in the hub of the universe, slowly and painfully realising that things that had started here were real, were insurmountable, and cared little about whatever was going on between me and Francesco. I knew I was a victim. But that was tough luck. I just had to bite it. I had to embrace whatever it meant for me. In a way it meant that I couldn’t even kill myself. I couldn’t resolve it like my Calle de la Malvasia conundrum. That would be to defy the forces I was powerless against. I was here to last and to suffer. I was an incurable. Francesco had once said to me, right here, around the corner, that the incurables were not those who were meant to die, but those who were left to suffer. It was me! And then I thought about anaesthesia…
I left the tip of the island and walked along the same embankment Francesco had taken me then. The incurables couldn’t escape, but they could numb their pain. I reached the old hospital and the Brodsky plaque. I would only exist at the touch of your hand… I wish you had never brought me into existence, Francesco, but now it was too late. I had to do something about it. I decided to drink. To get drunk and forget myself. It was not me and not my style to drown myself in alcohol in rough times, but then it was me to stay sober and dream of a noose. I decided to reform. I resolved to drink myself unconscious.
I found a supermarket and bought two bottles with screw caps for easy access. I didn’t even look at the wine I was buying. It was so old me to care about what wine I was drinking. In my new life wine was not an end, but a means to an end.
I opened my first bottle and took a swig. I registered the looks of passers-by faltering on me. Drinking wine from a bottle was a taboo in our society. No one would look at me if I was drinking from a can of beer.
It was going down well and it cheered me up. Sometimes I just couldn’t drink. My body would resent it. I was glad it wasn’t one of those days. When my bottle was finished, I realised I had crossed over to the other side of the canal. My head was pleasantly spinning now, but I still could remember Francesco. And, oh God, I was coming closer and closer to that hotel! I needed more anaesthesia.
I knew a drug dealer here. I’d had a wild run here once. I hadn’t taken drugs since, but I had kept his number. Of course, he might be dead now. He might be in prison. These supply lines never existed for too long, but I could give it a try. His number was on my iPhone SIM, which I had kept intact. Francesco knew only my Samsung number, which had been drowned in Aperol Spritz.
I had drugs in half an hour. I bought five wraps. I found myself by the water again. At first I thought it was the exact place where I had been when I decided to die, but then I realised I was simply too drunk to appreciate where I was. I had the good sense to look around before I took out my paraphernalia. It was getting dark. I took out my second bottle of wine and had a sip, since my cocaine cuisine was more sophisticated and took time to prepare. I wasn’t good at it. My hands were shaking as I did my lines. My attempt to take all the powder in one go was also ill-conceived. I had to attach myself to my bottle a few times before I was ready to sniff. I was drawn to something more familiar, I suppose.
The effect of the drugs on me was immediate and the incurable was at peace at last. Unexpectedly, on the wave of euphoria, I got an urge to see Francesco. I thought I was escaping, but in fact I was running towards him like a sprinter. I didn’t have Francesco’s number, as it was at the bottom of that glass, but I remembered I still had the hotel details in my wallet. I wrapped the remaining powder up and put it back in my briefcase. I took out my wallet.
I looked inside and removed all the paper I could find there. Old receipts. I threw them on the pavement. Some cash. Where was that piece of paper? I replaced my wallet and took out my iPhone. I clicked on the internet icon. Connection was very bad here. Anyway, I couldn’t see the screen properly anymore. My shaking hands couldn’t hold the phone steady. Still, I was surprised when it slipped out of my hands. I attempted to catch it mid-air. I jerked my body. I threw out my hand. My feet lost purchase and I found myself flying. I experienced this flight not as a stone falling to the ground, but as a bird soaring high in the sky. I felt an incredible lightness in my body, there was so much light… and bliss… and the relief that this nightmare was finally over. Goodbye, Francesco…