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Oliver nestled into his seat as the fast train built up speed. He had three and a half hours until he would arrive in Milan and weeks of stalling and losing himself in Elio would be over. The inertia of the last few weeks was hard to shake out of his head, but he had bigger worries ahead of him.
The mid-morning train was almost empty and he let out a sigh of relief which turned into shallow moans of loss. He physically shook at the thought of leaving his heart behind on that fucking platform again.
He felt an ache grow, like a visceral need, as the distance grew. He had been here before, barreling away from Elio and his stomach slowly slid into his shoes at the memory of it. He drew in a deep breath and fought to keep his composure but failed. He doubled over with the violence of the memory and forced his fist into his mouth to silence a scream that had been building since the moment he realized that he would have to leave Elio again. Rocking in his seat he felt nauseous and on the verge of passing out.
He was familiar with this feeling but for fucks sake, he was a grown ass man. His own father’s voice floated into his mind. “Pull yourself together boy. Your tears can’t fix anything and your mother doesn’t like to see you cry.” The memory of his father’s disappointed snarled whispers were enough to snap him out of it. He knew what he had to do, but it took all his will to turn away from his feelings and sit up.
He was sure the passengers in the carriage would be appalled by his behavior and were all judging him harshly. He inspected his pale face reflected back at him from the window and he ran a shaking hand across his features. The prickle of tears stung his eyes, as he focused on his breathing. He distracted himself with the view outside his window.
The city’s tall buildings were slowing becoming more sparse with the gaps between growing greater by the second. Absent mindedly, Oliver caressed the synthetic fabric of his train seat and was taken back to Elio’s bed and soft worn cotton of its sheets. He would rather be entwined in them again, instead of having some sort of breakdown in a public train.
***
Before arriving in Italy, he had tried to delude himself that just a few weeks’ holiday, hopefully a passionate fling with Elio, would be enough for him. He would be able to return to his usual life and be able to breathe again.
This delusion had been obliterated the moment he saw the man sitting in that busy Italian café. All movement around him had stopped and the room became silent. His bag almost fell out of his hand and he felt like he was walking through soft sand, he was so transfixed with the sight of him. Oliver felt like a teenager girl, with ‘heart eyes’ over the pretty boy. It was all quite pathetic really.
His words were truncated and barely able to form themselves until Elio did the most natural and typically bratty and overly familiar thing imaginable and with that simple act of theft, the years of tension between them dissolved. Proving the bleak years of separation and their ‘so called’ maturity hadn’t changed that little imp and with that Oliver was restored to being an eternal 24 years old and ready to take life by the balls and give them a hard yank.
It had always embarrassed him at how juvenile and selfish he could become around this one man, but he couldn’t help himself. Elio always brought out his best and worst traits. The pure grotesque torture of his love for him.
Every look, every gesture was primeval and all consuming. In the past it had forced him to sit out on the rock overlooking the sea for hours in an attempt to appear to be a normal functioning human and try to build the pretense that he wasn’t overwhelmed by everything about him. That summer all his efforts had failed but turned into the most delightful indulgence which ultimately returned to a heart stopping, voice cracking and debilitating agony of separation.
He ran his finger over his bottom lip which throbbed from where Elio had bitten only minutes prior and he found the ache oddly soothing. He ran his hand through his hair and it shocked him that even this subtle gesture or reassurance was so inadequate when compared to the memory of Elio doing the same as they made love that morning. How come the hand of your lover is so superior to your own in consoling and soothing a troubled mind?
***
The prospect of meeting the two formidable academics who made up Elio’s parental unit was intimidating. Oliver had unimaginable admiration for the enthusiastic charms of the Prof and Mrs. P. and had never recovered from the hours that they had spent together in the fading grandeur of their villa. This was too small a way to describe it. They had transfigured him, in those few short weeks. The Oliver before Italy never returned and his trajectory was always leading back to this point.
He had to galvanize himself for needing to justify his worthiness to reenter their lives and finally reclaim their son’s love. Oliver had much work to do and very little time to do it.
Tapping into the train’s Wi-Fi, Oliver shot off a couple of emails to friends and past colleagues at the International University in Milan. His phone buzzed with delighted and enthusiastic replies, appointments were made for the following morning and he could be back in Rome by suppertime. Checking the train timetable, they could be entwined in bed again by 7pm, maybe 7:30 at the latest, and his flagging spirits lifted.
Armed with ideas of how to placate the Perlmans, he had more tasks to achieve to be ready to face them. He would not be caught off-guard again and would have a solid plan for them on his arrival.
His brother answered the early morning call on the first ring, and through sleepy fuzziness agreed to pack up Oliver’s house and have it listed for sale. Oliver was surprised that he didn’t ask more questions but knew those would come later. He was relieved at not having to justify himself and he knew his brother would disapprove on principle of this plan. Just as he had all the other times he had packed up and moved somewhere for an opportunity his brother didn’t understand. Their father may be dead but lived on strong every time his brother disapproved of Oliver’s choices in life.
The next call was to resign his position at the New Hampshire university he had taught at for the last 15 years; his supervisor was less than enthused at his spontaneous and Ill-advised departure from their faculty and asked him to take a couple of days to be sure that this is what he wanted. The older man couldn’t understand and was shocked that he wanted to give up such a prestigious position to make such a life changing move to the other side of the world. Oliver ended the call with a curt promise to email his resignation letter that day.
For the first time in decades, Oliver was sure that he was doing what his heart truly wanted him to do and there was no way he was going to turn his back on this prospective new life again, with Elio.
***
Oliver was almost stunned as the train began to slow as they glided effortlessly into Milano Centrale. He had been so fixated on his correspondence. He frantically checked to ensure that he had everything and slung his bag over his shoulder and stepped down from the train onto the bustling station.
As he proceeded towards the gates, he realized that he didn’t have anything to gift his hosts and so began to search out a florist or a liquor store along the hectic concourse. As he searched over the heads of the other commuters he locked eyes with the formidable Mrs. Annella Perlman and was relieved to watched a broad smile fill her face. “Oh Oliver…” she screeched over the racket of the central station.
Folding her in his arms in a tight hug, she then pushed him away and held him at arm’s length. “Let me look at you”, she said and then clicked her tongue in approval.
“What happened to your lip… cold sore?” she enquired.
“I think I bit it in my sleep. Does it look that bad?” Oliver asked self-consciously.
“No dear, it just looks tender,” Annella said soothing his concerns, “No one will notice.”
Taking Oliver’s arm, the older woman chatted at a pace that made his head spin as she led him away from the station’s main hall. They were passing a kiosk and Oliver tried to stop. “I thought I would grab some wine or chocolates or something. I can’t come visiting without a gift,” he said apologetically.
“Oh don’t worry about that Oliver. Your overdue visit is a treat enough for us”, Annella replied pointedly, “It has been very poor form from you to hide out with Elio for weeks and not pay your respects.”
“We kind of lost track of time.”
“Speaking of time, how long will you be staying?” Annella asked point blank, “and will we have years of patching up our son’s heart up again?”
“I am here for as long as he will let me love him.” Oliver said frankly.
“That’s all I need to hear Oliver! Mafalda is also very annoyed at your tardiness, so don’t expect her to be as forgiving as I am.” Annella said as she continued to bustle him off toward her waiting car.
It had only been two minutes and Oliver’s head was swimming. He felt just like the same young man all those years ago, lost in a foreign land, but this time he knew this is where he had belonged the whole time.