32. Of Love and Violence
32
OF LOVE AND VIOLENCE
A lberto was a beast of leisure now. He thought so as he lounged on a low chair in the substantial break room, his legs stretched out and resting on the opposite chair, where Berko sat. Originally, Berko had given up on trying to sleep with him since last time; he had turned sweet and was even tiringly caring at times, until Alberto lashed out and told him he preferred the previous version. This morning, Berko changed his tune and offered to take him outside and suck him off behind the dumpsters, but instead, he dragged Alberto to a storage room. Alberto thought for a second he might do it in there, but Berko only wanted to show him where they stashed the stuff patients had lost or no longer used, and they dug up an old game that was just a knockoff of Tetris. Alberto sucked at it, and that was amusing enough for the both of them. The tip of his tongue sticking out in concentration, he was in the midst of his third attempt at clearing a low level when he heard a soft voice calling his name. He looked up blearily.
“What?”
“You have a visitor,” A?cha said. She was Alberto’s second-favourite receptionist. Half-hoping, half-dreading, he tossed a glance at whoever was standing in the doorway, and it was dread which settled on his chest. There, stood Mathias, his eyes riveted on the feet Alberto had propped between Berko’s legs.
“Who’s that?” Berko asked in a whisper. He subconsciously pushed Alberto’s feet off the chair. Yes, Mathias had this effect on people. He made them believe Alberto belonged to him. Alberto believed it once, too. He knew better now; as far as he was concerned, whatever they had was over, so what could Mathias want from him now? Alberto considered telling A?cha he didn’t want to see him, but in the end, he said nothing and gave a small nod. A?cha turned on her heel and headed back toward Mathias, her white shoes squeaking on the waxed hardwood floors.
“Hey.” Berko leaned into his space. “Who’s that?”
“Nobody.”
“Nobody’s really hot. Does he like men?”
Alberto lacked the energy to even sarcastically laugh. “No.” Even though they were over, he still didn’t want Mathias to get with another guy. Ever.
“Liar.”
After getting the green light from A?cha, Mathias was now traipsing toward them, his hands buried in his pockets. Alberto straightened on his chair. “Forget about him, he’s got issues.”
“Don’t we all?” Berko said with a grin. “I’d love to work out some of my issues with him.”
Alberto slid him a cold look. “Don’t you have somewhere to be?”
Berko laughed in his face. “Nobody, my ass.” He rose and snatched the Tetris knockoff from Alberto’s hands with a click of his tongue. “And look, you lost again!”
“To everyone’s surprise.”
Alberto shooed him away. Unbothered, Berko blew him a kiss as he took his leave. He and Mathias passed each other in a charged silence. Berko whirled around to give him a not-so-subtle once over, then trotted away when Mathias threw a look over his shoulder and caught him ogling.
“Hey.”
Alberto didn’t answer. Mathias took a seat opposite him, avoiding Berko’s chair, and pulled it closer. His familiar scent, somehow reminiscent of the forest, was nothing but a reminder of weeks spent lying to himself about who led whom by the nose. Mathias’s smell was a dangerous memory. Alberto wished he had a blocked nose.
“It’s nicer than I thought in here,” Mathias said, rubbing his hands up and down on his lap. His eyes, green and gold in the afternoon light, scanned around the room, momentarily stopping on the high ceiling, before falling on Alberto’s face. There was something different about him. What was it?
“You think my mother would send me to a horror asylum?”
Mathias seemed stumped by his tone. “No, I don’t know.” He fidgeted for a moment, his knuckles popping one after the other. Alberto wondered what his hands were doing out of their pockets. “It’s just… it’s nice.” Mathias was silent for a bit, and when he saw Alberto wasn’t volunteering anything, he asked, “How are you?”
“Me?” Alberto pointed at his own chest, deliberately aloof. “Peachy.”
“Is it nice, here? I mean, do you… do things?”
“Mm. We have activities and such. They coddle me, really.” Okay, maybe he should rein it in, or he wouldn’t sound believable. “We have movie nights. Yesterday it was…” He trailed off. He couldn’t actually remember what he was shown. “Someone was in a cape, I’m sure.”
Mathias studied him with a half-frown that made Alberto wish Berko had left him the video game. At least he’d have something else to look at other than those eyes.
“Did you make any friends?”
“One.”
“That tall guy I just saw?”
“The very one.” Alberto nodded with feigned enthusiasm. “Berko’s great. Earlier, he offered to suck me off behind the dumpsters.”
“That’s…” Mathias’s expression hardened then sagged, all in a blink’s time. “That’s nice of him.”
“You don’t do dumpsters, I remember. Just like throwing people in them.” Alberto’s attempt at a smile must have looked frightening, from the anguished look he received in return.
“Did you?” Mathias asked after a pause, his voice quiet.
“Did I?”
“Let him suck you off behind the dumpster.”
Alberto thought about what to say. A part of him still wanted to take jabs at Mathias, but he didn’t understand why. After a month spent in here, the memories of his times with him,good or bad, had become little more than a blur. Gone, the edges. Faded, the colours. Muffled, the cries they breathed into the night. And now here he was, assailed by Mathias’s smell, the intensity of his gaze, and now the sound of his voice… Alberto abruptly recalled the way Mathias used to call him a good boy in his ear.
My good boy .
“I did not,” he whispered.
Mathias shifted on the chair, eyes cast down on his red sneakers. He didn’t want to be here, not really. Why was he here, anyway?
“I heard you met my mother,” Alberto ventured.
“Yes.”
“I’m curious. What were you doing at my place?”
Mathias looked up. “She didn’t say?”
“No.” Alberto shook his head. “I mean, she said you came to give me homework, and caused quite the ruckus. She also told me she told you to stay away.” He arched an eyebrow. “So…”
“I know…” Mathias hesitated. “But mine told me to come anyway.”
Alberto opened his mouth to retort, then thought better of it. Unsettled, he bit into his lip until pain blossomed around his teeth.
“I know, I know what you’re thinking,” Mathias said, his hands balling into fists on his lap. “Or maybe I don’t. I don’t know what you’re thinking, and that’s the problem.”
There was a silence, punctuated only by the tick tock of the gigantic clock over the equally massive fireplace, and the discrete clattering of the chess pieces two other patients were using a few feet away. For the first time since Mathias sat down, Alberto felt a twinge of fear.
“What’s gonna happen to you now?” Mathias asked. “Are you getting out of here soon?”
“Why would I want to get out of here?”
Mathias gave him a look of surprise. “You don’t want to stay in here forever, do you?”
“Of course not. In any case, since your visit, my mother’s been planning another escape. I think it’s not long before she moves us again.”
“Where?”
“Europe, hopefully. Somewhere old, with decrepit buildings, old graveyards, some good wine…” Alberto jerked his legs impatiently. “Why are you here, Mathias?”
That question seemed to give him pause. At last, he shoved both hands in the front pocket of his hoodie. The sight of it only increased Alberto’s discomfort.
“I wanted to say I’m sorry. For the way it all went.”
Now Alberto wanted to roll his eyes. So, that fool went all the way to his house and caused all that trouble to what? Say I’m sorry? Was he serious right now ?
“What?” he said harshly. “Why?”
“I think I treated you horribly, and if I… if I…”
“If you’d known I was already fucked up, you wouldn’t have done it?” Alberto scoffed. “I thought you didn’t like pity, so why are you throwing yours at my face right now?”
Mathias froze on his seat, as though the notion hadn’t occurred to him before. Alberto was about to sneer in bitter victory, only to fall silent when Mathias’s eyes started glinting suspiciously.
“I need to tell you, about that time, that night I spent at yours…”
“The night you spent at mine…” Alberto recalled with a jolt. He scooted forward, surprising Mathias. “You saw it. You saw me kiss my stepdad, right?”
“Yeah.” Mathias’s voice was croaky. Alberto burst into a laugh, enjoying how wide his eyes were.
“Did you think I was sleeping with him?”
Mathias didn’t reply. Alberto tut-tutted. “Oh, Mathias, Mathias… Always assuming the worst about me. Or, wait. Did you think he was, what? Molesting me?”
The shock on Mathias’s face quickly made way to annoyance. “Any… anyone would have at least wondered…”
“Is that why you refused to spend time with me afterwards?”
It took Mathias a moment to reply. “I was ashamed.”
That was unexpected. Alberto blinked as the cogs in his brain worked out the reason why, but in the end, he still asked, “Why?”
“I didn’t defend you. Just like at Xavier’s. I let someone… someone…” The words, uttered in a thick voice, died in his throat.
A wave of longing submerged Alberto then, and he clung to the armrests for fear of being swept away. Instead, he gave a nonchalant shrug.
“Meanwhile, I thought you’d found my sad, sad boy pills and decided I wasn’t good enough for you anymore. Oh, don’t look at me like that. You were in my bathroom. Didn’t you open every drawer, just out of curiosity?”
“What? No!”
“Ah…” Alberto let out a sigh. “Ah, Mathias…”
Ah, Mathias indeed… He really couldn’t do anything like other people.
“Alberto.” Mathias abruptly leaned forward. Alberto blinked fast as he clutched the armrests. “Did you want to be with me, at some point? Did you?— ”
“No!” Alberto tossed his head back. “No, not at all.” He plastered a fake smile on his face. “In any case, thanks for the apology, but as you can see, I didn’t need it. My stepdad’s an idiot, and perhaps he was as drunk as I was when he stumbled into my room. But he’s not that kind of guy. Honestly? I think I may have kissed him, you know, thinking he was you. After all, he doesn’t look orange in the dark.”
Alberto chuckled at his own joke, then he fell silent when an unexpected wave of sadness fell over him.
For a long time, Mathias just sat there, his gaze on his feet, not speaking, not moving an inch, and the twang of fear Alberto experienced before returned, coupled with the longing, and suddenly it seems the walls of the leisure room were slowly closing in on him. Alberto wanted safety, and peace. He didn’t want to keep making the same mistakes over and over again. So why did he feel like reaching out, taking Mathias’s hand and pressing it to his own cheek? Why did he feel like burying his nose in his neck to inhale his scent one last time? Why did he feel the need to reassure him when he should just reject him as he was rejected, and send him on his way?
“Is it true Elisa kicked Stasia in the tits?” he heard himself ask, his resolve shrinking.
“Yes,” Mathias confirmed, somewhat subdued. “She really did that. She was with me when I… when I found your computer… and your password…” His shoulders sagged. “I thought…”
“Oh, right.” Alberto’s eyes narrowed. The subconscious worked in mysterious ways. Or, so it seemed. Who would have thought that he would leave Mathias the key to his dark secret? If only he could laugh…
“Then your maid… Dina. She’s the one who gave me the USB thing.”
“Mm-hm.” Alberto knew Mathias had seen the little horror movies left on his computer, and at last, was able to put two and two together. Truthfully, he really didn’t want to talk about it. But Mathias had found his password and had done what he could to help, saving Alberto from having to tell his mother himself. So, he sighed, softer, this time. “Dina’s really kind. She makes friends with everyone—including the guy in charge of my stepdad’s security. She got the footage from him.”
“Is it true what Stasia said? About your dad?”
Alberto hesitantly met his eyes. Perhaps the difference in Mathias was that he looked older. Or maybe he always looked like this and Alberto hadn’t noticed because he was always either high on his meds or losing it from abrupt withdrawal. Or did he look sad? Maybe not sad, more like guilty. Guilty, that was it. It was guilt he felt at having messed around with the mentally fragile Alberto. Now Alberto was surprised he didn’t bring a gift. Flowers or something. A get well soon card. Bitterness rose in his throat, and he shrunk back in his chair.
“Yes, I told you already, about my jaw. Why it clicks.”
“I thought you were joking at the time.”
Alberto’s attempt at a dry laugh resulted in an ugly sound. “I wasn’t. It’s not that he hit me often, mind you. He didn’t, not with my mother watching over me. She made sure he couldn’t find me when he was in one of his moods, by hiding me in that musty antique wardrobe. But that one time, there was nowhere to hide. He overdid it, and I fell against the marble mantelpiece. Cracked my head open like a watermelon.” He looked up thoughtfully. “I was in a coma for nine days, and then I woke up, and I was fine.”
“Fine?” Mathias said in disbelief. “You were fine?”
“Yes. Well, except for a few things, like my memory, and the headaches; I’ve had bad headaches ever since.”
Mathias seemed absorbed by the floor, but his fist raised to his mouth as though he wanted to hide behind it. When he lifted his head, his eyes were a different shade.“Why did he do that?”
Stupid questions warrant stupid answers, Alberto thought faintly. “Well, Mathias, it seems he didn’t like me.”
“But how could… how could your dad not like you?”
“Why do you care?” Alberto gave a limp shrug. “You don’t even like me.”
“Is that… is that what you think?”
“Doesn’t matter what I think.”
“Doesn’t it?”
“What do you want me to say?” Alberto asked impatiently. “You thought I was a bad person, you even told me.”
“Right.” Mathias gave a slow nod. “At my place, that night, after Joy’s party. I said horrible things to you.”
“Well… I probably deserved it.”
“That’s not true!” Mathias leaned forward. “This stuff, about you and Stasia… That’s why you hated her so much, why you said those things. I get it now.” He raised his chin, met Alberto’s eyes. “You shouldn’t be in here.”
“I’m perfectly fine here,” Alberto said. “Normal guys don’t hit girls. It’s better for me to be here, where I can’t hurt anyone else. ”
Mathias frowned. “But she was hitting you all the time, the stuff I’ve seen?—”
“So? I still hit a girl. I deserve to be here.”
“No, you don’t!” He looked cross now. “She had it coming, didn’t she?”
“So, it’s fine because she had it coming?”
“No, it’s not fine, but for fuck’s sake, it was self-defense!”
Alberto’s lips parted, but he was all out of words.
“It was self-defense,” Mathias repeated, a glint in his eye. “And if you’d done it earlier, things would have been different, things wouldn’t have turned out so bad?—”
“You don’t know that. You just don’t know that.”
“You think you’re going to turn into your father because you slammed a bitch against a closet?” Mathias said, incredulous. “Trust me, it’s going to take more than that.”
Right then, it occurred to Alberto with a vague amusement that Mathias would never be against a bit of violence as long as it was justified. Not just him in fact, but both Rodin siblings. And that being a girl didn’t stand in the way of their straightforward justice. If he weren’t so high, Alberto would be turned on by him again, and that, that was an inconvenience. Alberto folded his arms over his chest.
“Is Elisa going to be in trouble for that kick? Stasia has a very powerful father.”
“I don’t think so.” Mathias finally cracked a smile. “Elisa also has powerful friends. But…” he hesitated. “Your mom told my dad, and he was kind of furious. Well, mostly disappointed. I got him to admit he and your mom know each other, but he said nothing happened. The truth is, I didn’t dare ask too many questions. Between skipping school and going all This is Sparta on Anastasia, Elisa and I have done enough to turn his hair grey, so we’ve been avoiding conversations with him.”
Alberto shut his eyes, invoking the delectable image of Elisa kicking Stasia in the pool and taking his time to savor it. “Who would have thought your sister was such a little beast?”
A sudden flush darkened Mathias’s face. “Now you know violence runs in our family.”
“Pff.” Alberto waved his hand dismissively. “What do you know of violence…”
Mathias didn’t answer, his hands fidgeting inside his pocket.
“But you,” Alberto said, “you see me.”
“What do you mean? ”
“Now you know everything about me.”
He knew about Papà, he knew about Stasia, he knew about the pills Alberto took just to get through the day, he knew everything about the sad, pathetic life he’d lived, and he knew enough about the future he’d have.
“I doubt it,” Mathias said.
“Still. You know enough.”
“Alberto.” He paused, looking terribly reluctant. “You have no idea how sorry I am. For everything.”
Shut up, Mathias, I’m not mad at you! Alberto wanted to shout, but he pressed his lips tightly together instead.
Mathias had come in here to take a good look at him and apologize for his misgivings, and Alberto stupidly let him get away with it. Now, Mathias could move on with his life and forget all about him. It wouldn’t matter, because he said all the right things, and no one could blame him for being an asshole to poor, sad Albertino. Bitterness took its hold in his chest. If he spoke now, it would only be venom. Better that way: he hated goodbyes anyway.
“Right.” Faced with his silence, Mathias thought for a moment, then fished something out of his pocket. “I wanted to give you something.” He laid the thing on the table between them.
“A book.” Alberto said in a dubious tone.
“Yes.” Mathias pushed a battered paperback toward him. “Just in case you wanted to… you know.”
“Read?”
“Travel… to some other place.”
“Thanks.”
Alberto’s voice was laced with venom after all. And why the hell not? Mathias brought him… a book. That’s what you get for three months of fucking, crying, and holding on to each other at night. A stuttered apology and a shitty book. And not even a single offer to get him off behind a dumpster.
Possibly searching for his reaction, Mathias looked into his face a long time. Long enough that Alberto felt his countenance waver, even with powerful meds to back him up. When he first met Mathias, he was the same, took the same meds and still…
Alberto was once a doll, a rare and exquisite item whose body was stitched so delicately, and yet, everyone was desperate to touch him, until little by little, the fragile seams burst, the fillings spilling out, and he was left alone to make his own repairs. But the damage was done. He had long admitted defeat. And then came Mathias with a ball of thread and a giant needle.
Remembering these things were bad. Alberto shook the memories away with a shrug, his gaze slipping down to the little book between them. “I never finish them.”
“Books?”
“I can only get through the beginning. After that, I keep getting stuck on the same page. Not remembering what happened before… what’s supposed to happen next…” He steadied himself. “And they give me headaches.”
“You could just read the beginning, then,” Mathias said. “The beginning’s fine.”
What’s your deal ? Mathias had asked, that day in November, standing in the damp parking lot. Why are you so weird? No one ever cared to ask the way Mathias had asked. Like it was vital for them to know. Alberto could have told him the truth straight away, but then he would have had to watch him run as far from him as his legs could take him.
“I’m gonna go,” Mathias said, confirming Alberto’s fears.
He got up, then he carefully put his chair back to its original spot before turning away. Alberto stared at him, ready. A few more steps, and it would be over between them. For good, this time. No hoodie to return, no apologies, no get well soon in the form of a second-hand paperback. The break room was immense; Mathias’s steps were slow and heavy. Alberto could have stopped him anytime, but he just watched, and watched, and watched. He was ready.
And yet, when Mathias reached the exit, Alberto’s shoulders tensed and his heart lurched in his chest. He blurted out, “Mathias?”
“Yes?” he said, stopping in the doorway. He was so handsome, one foot out of the door, one foot in. The most beautiful man in the world. Alberto was drowning in his bitterness, and he spoke before reason could convince him not to.
“You’re gay.”
Alberto leaned back, triumphant. He’d spoken loudly. A few heads turned, and Mathias stood very still with his foot out the door. After a brief silence, he gave a single nod, his lip stretching in a half-smile.
“I know.”
And just like that, he was gone, leaving Alberto struck dumb, unable to blink. Frozen, he sat amongst the midcentury furniture, the oversized bouquets of flowers, the Satie-like background music, and the faint laughter of the others patients. The other patients, whoever they were, with their own problems to fix. Mathias would never end uphere, because he had already fixed his problem, while Alberto would grow cold and bitter and rot in here alone. People talk about the birth of their kids, but he’ll never have any. They talk of their wedding day, but he’ll never get married. They talk of their childhood, which he spent in a dungeon, of space and time-defying friendships, which he’d never experienced. They talk about this or that great romance, while he’ll most likely be anybody’s fuck boy and nothing more. His best memory was a tale of escape, a boy’s arms wound around his mother’s on a train, a frozen image jittering back and forth like on an old VHS.
He’d thought he was doing so well, and now once again, the weight of the world was pressing down on him like the sides of a coffin. Clutching his chest, he forced himself to swallow the bitterness inside of him and almost retched between his feet.
Alberto knew his exercises. He breathed in and out, slow and steady, until he calmed down. One, two… seven times. It wasn’t so bad. It never was. He could teach himself to be happy for others. He’d have plenty of time here. So what, if Mathias had a great future? Alberto had Berko, and his offer to suck his dick behind the dumpster.
He made his way upstairs, eyes wet and throat dry. Berko was waiting for him in his bedroom, standing by the window. He pointed outside with a smile.
“Nobody’s leaving.”
“He sure is,” Alberto said, tossing the book on his bed. He joined Berko by the window. Indeed, the figure of Mathias, his head down and his hands in his pockets, was visible in the distance.
“He’s really hot. Imagine how he’d look if he were dressed in proper clothes.”
Instead of answering him, Alberto looked away, annoyed.
“What’s that? He gave you a book?”
“Yes, but I don’t read.”
Berko leaned against the windowsill. “I’ve seen you read.”
“What do you want, Berko?” Alberto asked in a cold tone.
“You, Alberto, what else?”
Alberto didn’t return his smile, and Berko’s expression grew serious. “What’s wrong, amore ?”
Alberto watched the figure of Mathias finally disappearing beyond the gates. His eyes started burning. He screwed his eyes shut and bit into his lip again, the pain helping him regaining control of himself. But when he reopened his eyes, they were still burning. “Don’t you wish you’d fought back, sometimes?”
“Fought back? Fought who?”
“I don’t know. Just fought back.”
Fought back when people pushed him down. When they made assumptions about him. When they pushed him in the pool or wrapped their hands around his throat… When exactly a month after his fourteen’s birthday, he returned home bewildered and with another man’s fingers etched around his thigh.
“Fuck,” he said, gritting his teeth.
“Do you wish you’d fought back?” Berko asked. His tone was light, but he was eyeing Alberto carefully.
“Every. Damned. Day.”
Berko drew close. Alberto squinted at the spot where Mathias had vanished until his vision turned blurry. And the more he stared, the more impatience grew within him.
“Can I hug you?” Berko asked.
“No. You can leave me alone.”
“I can’t do that.”
“Then go stand in a corner. I’ll call you if I’m bored.”
Berko started complaining about him loudly and in French, but he stayed all the same. Flinging himself on the bed, he lifted the book Mathias had brought over his head.
“Can I read this?”
“Whatever.” Mathias was gone. Alberto would probably never see him again. He threw a look over his shoulder at the sublime Berko, beautifully stretched across his bed. He wondered about him. Why he would keep coming back here if therapy wasn’t working. Whether he was just like him. “What’s the book about?” he asked, his brow furrowed.
“It’s by Stephen King. It’s called Different Seasons , and there’s a bookmark to a story called Rita Hayworth and the Shawshank Redemption , which is, I don’t know if you’re aware?—”
“I know the movie.”
“It’s an escape sto—” Berko abruptly fell silent. Alberto turned away from the window, intrigued.
“What?”
Berko had sat up, his brow raised in astonishment.
“What is it?” Alberto asked again, restless.
With an exaggerated sigh, Berko got up. He closed the distance between them and pressed the book into his hands. “You should stay here,” he said. “If you stayed, I would worship you.”
Alberto shook his head. “You only like me because I’m fucked up,” he said, mildly amused.
“Still.” Berko leaned forward and kissed his cheek. “I’ll see you soon.”
“Wha—”
“You’ll be back.” Without another word but with a gleaming smile, Berko walked out of his room.
Nonplussed, Alberto wrenched open the book to the bookmark, and a series of papers gently fell to the floor. Alberto picked up the scribbled note first, his pulse racing.
Alberto,
I saw you sitting out there, but you’re not alone, and I guess my courage left me. I don’t know, with you, I never know anything at all. So, I wrote this note real quick at the reception to tell you that I’ll be waiting at the Saint-Lazare station until the train has left… and then some. And that, maybe, if you wanted to, we could get away.
Alberto, you’re alive.
Mathias
Waiting to get picked up from the floor was a train ticket to Deauville. His hand shaking, Alberto glanced back at the note. Mathias had given this book, with its hidden note, after their painful conversation. After Alberto had told him the truth, about his dad, about Stasia, about himself. Mathias had chosen him anyway. Mathias wanted him, despite all this shit, despite everything. Alberto couldn’t tear his eyes away from the note. Two words were standing out, sending his heart beating madly around his chest, trapped little bird about to make his great break out.
“You’re alive.”