Over and Back, page 13
“Like what?” Hank asked.
“Dental surgery?” Grant quipped, and Hank snickered.
“Our last medical procedure? I had to have a colonoscopy once. That was unpleasant. We could talk about that and the colon blow I had to drink for an entire day.” Hank shivered and hoped he didn’t have to go through that again for quite a while.
“Great.” Grant made a yuck face that morphed into a smile.
They were being silly, but it was nice to have someone to be silly with, to play with.
“We could talk about tomorrow. There’s a tour of the Palazzo Vecchio that takes you into all the hidden passages and stuff. I wonder if we can get on it?”
“Zach looked into it, and it was booked, like, a year ago. But he did get us on a guided tour of the city, so that’s good.”
“I know. It’s just that I don’t think I’m going to be able to get back here anytime soon and I want to be able to do everything.”
“What’s surprised you the most so far?” Hank asked.
“I think how expensive stuff is. I do the conversion in my head, and it all costs so much. Gas, food, clothes—everything costs more. I know we’re in touristy areas, but still. I didn’t expect everyday stuff to cost what it does.” Grant shrugged. “I’m also surprised at how people live in places like this. They see the things we’re awed by every single day. Now that would be cool.”
“I suppose after a while everything gets to be normal. Like living in New York and seeing the Empire State Building every day.” Hank stood as Zach and Bull joined them.
“Are you ready to go? I’m starving,” Zach said after hugging Grant.
“Yeah, I’m hungry too. There’s a place that looked good back toward the Duomo. We could go there.”
“Sounds like a plan,” Bull agreed, and they headed out. The sun was fading and some of the day’s heat had abated. It was still warm, but the breeze was nice, and without the sun, the air felt fresher and it was a lot easier to breathe.
Hank was curious, but he didn’t want to ask about Jarrod and take a chance at ruining the night.
“This is a wonderful city,” Zach said as he skipped along in excitement. “Think about this. This part dates way back. Leonardo da Vinci or Michelangelo might have strolled these same streets all those years ago. These streets and some of the buildings have been here almost that long. They might have been refurbished and updated, but some of them are that old.”
“Yeah,” Grant agreed. “I wonder what this place would have felt like back then.”
Bull shrugged. “It might be interesting if I knew I would get to come back to the present. I wouldn’t want to live back then. I like my cell phones and fresh food and water.”
“You’re such a wet blanket,” Zach told him. “I think it would be fun. Could you imagine meeting Michelangelo or Botticelli? Getting to watch them work or see their creative process? They’d be like the rock stars of their day, I suspect. Everyone today studies and guesses at what they were doing. But to ask them questions, maybe get to know them—that would be übercool.”
“You just want to meet Michelangelo because he was probably gay,” Bull teased.
“And hot. He was definitely hot,” Zach teased back, and Bull growled. “But not as hot as you,” Zach added.
Grant put his hand over his mouth to keep from laughing, and Hank had to bite his lower lip. The way Zach handled Bull was completely precious. It was clear he had Bull wrapped around his little finger. They both knew it.
“This is it,” Grant said as they approached the restaurant. They got a table for the four of them, and the waiter brought menus and bottles of water.
“Bull and I can get a table for ourselves,” Zach offered.
“Is that really necessary?” Bull asked grumpily.
Zach smacked him on his arm. “They’re on a date, and they don’t need us married fuddy-duddies hanging around them. Sheesh.” He rolled his eyes.
“I am not a fuddy-duddy—whatever that is.”
Zach patted Bull on the shoulder. “You just proved my point. You are the biggest fuddy-duddy of them all. You own a nightclub, and yet, at the house, you sit in this old chair that I’ve tried to get you to replace for at least a year.” Zach leaned over the table. “It’s kind of gross, but Bull doesn’t like change. At home, he wants things to stay the same… all the time. I’m half surprised he actually let me in the building.”
“It’s my chair,” Bull said with mock horror.
“Well, I ordered a new one for you before we left. And that old thing, which smells like years of sweat and your butt, is out of there once we get home. The chair I got is big and comfortable, and it has a matching ottoman so you can put your feet up and relax.” Zach patted his shoulder again. “You’ll love it.”
Bull didn’t look convinced, but then nodded. “Okay.”
“Hallelujah, we’ll have a funeral for it in the backyard. I say we light it on fire and you can play Taps.” Zach giggled.
“You’re such a goof,” Bull said quietly.
Grant sighed from next to him, and Hank knew just how he felt. He wanted what they had: the teasing, the comfort, the knowing the other was always there, no matter what.
“Come on. We’ll take the table right there,” Zach said before getting up. He patted Bull on the shoulder until he did the same. They moved a few feet away, and instantly Hank felt more at ease, but wondered what they should talk about. Zach could carry the conversation for all of them, and now it seemed quiet.
“What do you like to do for fun?” Hank asked, needing to get the conversation started rather than let the silence hang over them.
“I think I’m kind of boring. I like to dance sometimes, but I don’t get a chance because I’m always working, and on the nights I don’t, I’m not going into the club. Oh, I like video games. Especially the driving ones. As a teenager, I was a terror behind the wheel. I drive better now. But Dad always said it was because I learned to drive playing all those games. In real life ‘you don’t get more lives.’” They both chuckled. “What about you?”
“I used to fix cars. In school I took auto shop and loved it. I was pretty good with my hands. Not so much with the books, though. Don’t get me started on algebra, the terror of terrors. I never thought I’d survive it.”
“But you did—you’re so brave.” Grant batted his eyes at him, and Hank snorted as he started to laugh. “I think that was the bane of every high school student. I hated it too.” Grant glanced outside and then back at him. He had been doing that every few minutes. “Sorry.”
“I know you keep wondering if Jarrod is going to show up.” Hank patted Grant’s hand. “I don’t blame you. But I think Bull finally scared him off. He’s probably out licking his wounds somewhere.”
“Do you really think so?”
Hank glanced at the other table. “Would you want to get on Bull’s bad side? Personally, I think Jarrod has to be completely crazy to have even thought about pushing him.”
Grant shrugged. “I just want him to leave me alone.” His eyes blazed for a few seconds. “But that’s enough talk about him. This is supposed to be a special night, and I don’t want to ruin it with talk of crazy people.” He flashed a quick smile. “How about books, movies, horses?”
Hank paused. “Horses? That’s a little out of nowhere.”
“My grandparents lived in the country. They didn’t have a farm or anything, but their neighbor had a horse, and I got to ride him whenever I came to visit. When I was on Pitchfork, I used to dream that I’d grow up to be a famous rodeo rider.”
“Have you ever seen a rodeo?” Hank asked. He certainly hadn’t.
“No. But when I was a kid, I used to watch westerns with Grandpa. He loved the old John Wayne movies, as well as Pale Rider and The Outlaw Josey Wales. He loved those movies too. Clint Eastwood was so cool back then. I used to dream about riding off into the sunset on Pitchfork. But then everything changed.”
“What happened?”
“Shit… lots and lots of manure. Plenty of it, everywhere. I stayed with my grandparents one summer, and their neighbor gave me a job helping out around the farm. One of my chores was cleaning out Pitchfork’s stall. After shoveling what horses left behind, my dreams weren’t so idyllic anymore.” He grinned and shrugged. “It was okay. We lived in the city, and a pony was not ever going to fit in my room.”
“Did you have a pet growing up?”
“Yeah. We had a dog. His name was Tony, and he was a poodle mix. I loved that dog. He used to jump all over me and sometimes sleep at the foot of my bed. Mostly he slept with Mom because he was really her dog.”
The server came to take their orders, and Hank ordered the steak with a side of pasta and a salad they’d agreed on for them to share.
Grant asked for a Diet Coke, then remembered there was no such thing in Italy and corrected himself and asked for a Coke Light. The server left to put in the order. “I’m so ready for some beef. I love pasta, but I think I’m dealing with some carb overload.”
“I understand. Me too,” Hank said, folding his hands together. “To return to what we were talking about, when was the last time you rode a horse?”
“A few years ago.” Grant smiled slightly, and his eyes got a faraway look. “I went to college and earned an associate’s degree, but that was as far as I got. It became clear that I wasn’t going to be able to go any further. I’m not smart enough. I know that. It was difficult getting through those first two years. But my first boyfriend—well, you know, the kind that involved sex….” He was so cute with the way he pinked slightly talking about it. “His parents had horses out between Mechanicsburg and Carlisle. He took me riding a few times.” Grant sighed.
“Did things end badly?”
Grant nodded. “Yeah. We rode out, and Alvin decided that we were far enough from the house that we could tie up the horses and have some time to ourselves. He’d stowed a blanket in his saddlebag and apparently some supplies. Things were going well, and he and I were… into it—until his mother rode up on her horse.” Grant turned away, his shoulders sagging. “Alvin hadn’t told his parents that he was gay, so it gave his mother one hell of a shock. Me too, when he confessed as he was getting dressed that they were Mennonite… or at least, that was the family background.”
Oh God. Hank felt a chill run up his spine. “Was he okay? Did things work out?”
“No.” Grant shook his head. “His mother didn’t say anything as she led him and the horses away. I ended up walking back to my mom’s car and driving home. The following day in class, Alvin couldn’t sit down. I knew his dad had beaten him. Alvin asked for some help, and I tried to give it to him, but that only made matters worse for him.” Tears welled in Grant’s eyes. “I was only trying to help him, and I knew I should have told the people at the school, but he begged me not to, so I did what Alvin wanted.” He lowered his head. “Alvin didn’t show up for class one day, and when I asked, I was told that he’d withdrawn from school. So I waited out near his place, just to see if he was okay.”
“Was he?” Hank leaned forward. Grant sure had a way with telling a story.
“No. I did catch a glimpse of him a few times, and he looked so beaten down. I saw him at Massey’s in Carlisle once. I love their frozen custard. He was there with some friends, and I was able to talk to him. He—” His voice faltered. “He looked like a shell of the guy I knew. He was thin, and his eyes were glassy and dark, like he hadn’t been sleeping. I asked what was going on, if he needed anything, and he said no. He was going to be okay and was getting married in a few weeks. Then he had to go. I never saw him again.”
“Is he still around? I know that some guys can decide they have nothing to live for and….” Hank didn’t even want to say it.
“He is. I saw a friend of his six months ago. George was our age, and he was always pretty cool. He told me that Alvin was working on his dad’s farm and starting to build a house of his own. I asked if he was happy, and George shrugged, but didn’t say any more.” Grant paused as their food arrived, and he wiped his eyes, waiting until the server left before finishing his story. “I just wish that I’d had the guts to say something. I know he asked me not to and I did what he said he wanted, but if he’d had some help, maybe he could have had a better life.”
“That isn’t your fault. Alvin made his decision, and you abided by it.”
Grant shook his head. “No. He was abused by his dad, and I did nothing to stop it. I was too scared and didn’t have the backbone to do what I knew was right. That’s the story of my life. I was too scared to tell Timothy no, and I couldn’t say anything to Jarrod in the club. Thank goodness you were able to help me, because I didn’t know if I could get away. I have a terrible time refusing people. I couldn’t do it with Timothy, when I should have walked away. But he was the guy I met after Alvin, and I think I was kind of messed up.”
Hank cut the steak and placed a piece on Grant’s plate. “You left him. That took guts. And I’m glad I was there to help you with Jarrod. As for Alvin, I can’t say that I would have done anything different. But I understand how you feel. He was a close friend.”
“He was my first love, and I still miss him.” Grant sighed and sat straighter in the chair. “Somehow I don’t think this was the kind of conversation you were expecting to have tonight.” He cut off a small piece of meat and took a bite. “I don’t know why I unloaded all this on you.”
Hank was sort of flattered that he did. It meant Grant trusted him to a degree. “You can talk about whatever you like with me.” He reached across the table and took Grant’s hand, needing more of a connection with him. He’d told Grant things he didn’t talk about with others too. “It seems we both have a tendency to confide in each other.”
“I think that’s a good thing. I never told Timothy about Alvin… ever.” Grant took a few more bites of his steak, then some of the pasta and salad.
“Why not?”
Grant shrugged. Hank ate, savoring each bite as he waited for Grant’s answer. “I think that sometimes it’s easier to trust someone with your body—and maybe even your love—but not necessarily the secrets of your heart.”
“But why tell me?” Hank asked, setting down his fork.
“There’s just something about you that tells me it’s okay, that you’ll understand. I don’t know….” Grant returned to eating, but his posture seemed lighter—his shoulders hung less heavy and he ate faster. “You know, this is pretty amazing.” He pointed to the steak. “It’s cooked really well, and they didn’t overseason it.” He continued eating faster, as though some impediment had been lifted and he was now starving.
“So is the pasta. It’s a carbonara sauce with a little cream, so it’s rich but really flavorful.” Hank hummed softly before taking another bite. People here sure seemed to know how to get food right. “Back home, I’d kill for a place like this.”
Grant snorted softly. “Italian food there is spaghetti and meatballs or pizza. This would be a foreign concept.” He sighed and dug in once more. “You know, maybe we should collect recipes and open a place. We could get a wood-fired grill and make really good food.” Grant paused for a few seconds, setting down his knife and fork. Hank cut him another piece of steak, and Grant passed over his plate.
“No one would appreciate it. The food back home is what everyone expects.” Hank shrugged. He had wished for better restaurants so many times, but there was no use wondering about what people didn’t think they needed. “Besides, if we had this at home, it wouldn’t be special here.” He went back to his dinner, and Grant did the same, the conversation dropping off as they finished eating. The steak was simple, but perfectly cooked and aged tender. Still, there was plenty of it, and by the time they finished all of it, the pasta, and the salad, Hank was full to bursting.
Grant sat back in his chair, belly out, a smile on his lips, contentment glowing in his eyes. “Now that was a meal.” He finished his soda, and Hank polished off his water. The server gathered their dishes and asked if they would like some coffee. Hank asked for the bill as the server took the dishes away, leaving them alone once again.
“Yeah, it was,” Hank agreed softly, watching as Grant’s eyes sort of drifted closed, like his belly was full, his spirit a little lighter, and maybe he could relax and let himself go for the first time in a while. At least that was what Hank thought he might be seeing.
Grant looked around. “Where did Zach and Bull go?”
Hank hadn’t seen them leave either, but they must have finished their dinner. He was a little concerned in case Jarrod made an appearance, and fished in his pocket for his phone, checked his messages, and then put it back. “They can’t be very far.” He doubted they’d truly leave them alone.
Once the server brought the check, he paid with a credit card and they left the restaurant.
Bull and Zack were just down the street, sitting in front of a gelato shop, talking, and as he expected, watching the restaurant entrance. They waved them over as they were finishing their cones.
“Do you want one?” Grant asked as he and Hank walked over to meet their friends.
“No. I think I’m too full.” They joined Bull and Zach, and the four of them walked through the now-quiet streets, back toward the hotel. “That’s the orphan hospital,” Zach said, pointing out a dark building. “See right there. That’s the window where people left the children they couldn’t care for. The nuns took them in and cared for them.”
“Where did you learn all this?”
“From the guidebooks,” Zach answered.
“He’s been reading them for months so he would know what was worth seeing,” Bull explained, proudly.
“I wanted to make sure we didn’t miss any hidden gems. Like, there’s a church in town that used to be a grain warehouse. It’s been decorated as a church, but on the inside, there are still rings in the ceiling that they used to hoist loads of grain. I find it fascinating that buildings have undergone so many different uses here. Like the Uffizi once was the Medici offices. Uffizi means office in Italian. Now it’s one of the world’s best museums, with an amazing Renaissance art collection, but hundreds of years ago, people worked there to administer the government of the city. I find that fascinating.”
