“This isn’t good,” I managed to whisper.
Jennifer clicked her tongue and said, “What’s the problem? Go for it.”
An awful, ugly laughter left my lips as I let myself fall down on my towel. “He wouldn’t cheat on his boyfriend with me. He made that clear already.” I looked up at her and saw her removing her sunglasses to look back into my eyes. That made me ask, “Jenn, how long have you known about me?”
She blinked a couple of times. “Sweetheart, since day one. I could read on your face that you’re into him right away.”
“Great,” I said, rather depressed.
“But that’s only because I have a super gaydar.”
I made a face.
She continued, “And you never, ever looked at my boobs.”
That felt like a challenge, so I did look. “They’re pretty average,” I said, as seriously as I could manage.
“Oh, fuck you.”
“Yeah, I wish,” I said with a sigh, and as our eyes locked, we burst out laughing. “You know I was kidding, right?” I told her.
“James, I don’t give a crap about anything people think about me.”
I bit my lip, thinking back on my long, exhausting counseling sessions with my therapist. “I guess your self-esteem is okay.”
“Wow, thank you very much.”
“You know, if I were a girl, I’d be a total slut. I’d wear short, sexy dresses, and I probably wouldn’t even like myself in them, but I’d wear them anyway, and I wouldn’t bother putting on any underwear. I’d make out with strangers in disgusting public toilets and I’d be on my knees all the time, until my mouth was sore and I was dripping wet and eager for cock.”
Jennifer was looking at me with her mouth half open. “Okay, let’s just pretend this wasn’t awkward at all and I’m not turned on.”
“I’m into erotic literature.”
“No shit,” she laughed. “Is all that true about you?”
I shrugged. “Only the part about being on my knees all the time.”
Her eyes widened and she looked toward Roberto. “And you…” she hinted.
“No, I told you, he turned me down.”
A furrow appeared on her face. “You know, James? I think I know exactly what you need.”
◆◆◆
That night, as I stood at the entrance of an overcrowded club, looking at people dry hump each other while dancing to excessively loud 90s disco music, I highly doubted this was what I needed.
“What the hell is this place, Jenn?” I asked her.
“Just the local club. Apparently, the DJ tonight is doing a 90s revival or something – don’t really care,” she said, completely unimpressed. “I actually hate this kind of place, so be grateful I’m doing this for you.”
My mouth fell open. “I still don’t get how coming here should do me any good.”
She exhaled loudly. “You’re tense, like, all the time. You need to chill out. That’s why we’re here. I even asked forgiveness to the God of Metal for betraying Him and being here tonight.”
“I would have gladly gone to a metal concert instead.”
“Yeah, you came to the wrong country then. Here you will either have reggaeton, Italian rap – yes, some people have the courage to rap in Italian – or this. Your choice.”
“Can I go home?”
“No.”
I braced myself as Jennifer took me by my arm and led me to the dancefloor, where the lights were flashing like crazy following the rhythm of the music and making it look like everyone was moving in slow motion. She got close to my ear and screamed at me, “James, I swear nobody will even look at you. Come on, you have to try!”
I looked around and recognized a few of the kids I had come to know at the beach. Marco was there too, shamelessly making out with a blond girl. Like Jenn said, nobody seemed to have even noticed we were there. She passed her arms around my neck and started moving her body and I suddenly felt… safe.
On the other side of the world, with a girl in my arms, dancing to Italian disco music, I could be like any other nineteen-year-old. No drama. No scandals. No nothing. Maybe I could even pretend I had gone back in time, to those years I didn’t even know, in an alternate reality where everybody can be whatever they want.
I placed my hands on Jenn’s waist and started moving. And she was right. I had needed this.
I don’t remember how I got my first drink, but a couple of hours later everything went really hazy and at some point I realized I had Marco’s arm around my neck, Jennifer tightly pinned to my side, and we were jumping and shouting to Blue by Eiffel65, without a care in the world. One of Marco’s friends eventually said it was too hot inside, so we left the club, beers in our hands and laughing every time somebody was about to trip over their own feet. We stopped at a park and a girl threw up on her shoes, and I don’t know why I found it so hilarious but Marco and I were laughing, and I have no idea what language we were speaking with each other, but even though I couldn’t understand all he said, somehow, I got him.
As time passed and the beer finished, all the others headed back home, and only the three of us were left. Jenn was lying on a bench with her head resting on Marco’s legs and I was sitting beside him, his arm still hanging around my shoulders.
“How are you cousins exactly?” I asked them, dropping my head back to look at the sky. No stars tonight.
They said something to each other and then Marco said, slowly, as if he had to think through every word, “My mother and her father are cousins.”
I chuckled. “So you’re not cousins.”
Francesco’s words came back to my mind, “Everybody here is somebody’s cousin.” I had been warned.
“Anyway, didn’t the DJ look a little like Johnny Depp?” Jenn said.
“Ugh.” Marco made a disgusted face.
“Johnny Depp playing disco music? Definitely not,” I said.
“He’s so my type,” she explained.
“Johnny Depp could be your dad,” Marco said.
“Daddy issues?” I asked.
“What? No way!” she shouted back. “No, if I have to choose, maybe I like Leo better.”
“Leonardo Di Caprio?” I said, “Not exactly that young either.”
Unexpectedly, Marco said, “Rob likes Leonardo Di Caprio.” The conversation suddenly turned way more interesting.
Jenn laughed and pointed at me, “James, you kinda look like Leo when he was young!”
Footsteps reached us from the entrance of the park and the familiar, ironic voice of Francesco said, “Did you just say, ‘when he was young?’ God, I feel old.”
Oh, no.
Before turning around, I bit my lip and closed my eyes and found myself thinking, Please, don’t be with Roberto.
And, of course, he was.
ROBERTO
The phone call with Luca had been unsettling to say the least. He told me everything about his new project and things he thought he wanted to buy for the house, and some comment about our landlord being the usual ass and rearranging the parking lots. It felt like he told me all those domestic things to remind me I had a life with him in Milan and I shouldn’t get carried away. Or maybe it was all in my head and it was my guilty conscience speaking.