Above the bike shop glowed the soft light of candles and just outside the front window, where Campy and Donatello were dining, fireflies danced in the blue-black night. There was piano music softly playing a Chopin nocturne while the two men ate at a carved wood table. The table sat next to the window where the small vase of wild flowers and candles matched the dance of the fireflies outside. A red wine was opened and poured into sparkling glasses. They were eating roast duck.
Donatello had listened to Campy's plan to find his DeRosa. But while listening, he had ate most of his duck and had another fork of yam gnocchi with a butter sage sauce balanced on the tongs when he put it down, took his wine glass and thoughtfully drank. Campy had at last stopped talking and took his first taste of roast duck in a raspberry sauce. "It is a brave plan," Donatello said.
"That's it? You surprise me Donatello. So you think I have a chance?"
"I didn't say that my friend. It is a brave plan to go into the lion's den but only a fool would do so to begin with and you are no fool."
"Peter didn't think so, he didn't like it but he's willing to help."
"And so will I, what do you want me to do?"
"You did. The bike."
Donatello took his wine glass and emptied it in two gulps before he filled it again from the bottle, he said, "It's a beautiful bike, and in its day, it was the best. But Campy, that bike is not young, you ask a lot from the old girl."
"And like the great dame she is, she will give me that and more."
The warmth of the wine went to Donatello's head, a smile slowly came from the handsome Italian. "If you should actually pull this off, what a victory for Italy and our beautiful biciclettas."
"The only thing this Yankee wants is his DeRosa." Campy raised his glass and they toasted to success.
The two men enjoyed the wine and the meal and near the end, when wild strawberries and champagne made its way to the table, the two turned their talk from cycling to each other. After the last toast, the last strawberry hand fed to Donatello followed by a kiss from Campy did they retire to Donatello's bedroom, the down comforter, thick as a cloud, pulled back on the bed.
As Donatello removed his clothes, the candle light next to the bed showed a strong and sturdy body, still tight and lean but with jagged scars that ran across his legs and chest, like a Greek statue that was broken and then pieced together. And when Campy undressed and sat down next to his lover on the bed, who had laid so as to hide the scars from sight, pulled Donatello to view him fully, scars and all. He ran his hand slowly over the old wounds, tracing them with the tips of his fingers. "Don't hide your bravery, they are badges of courage."
Donatello took Campy's hand that traced the lines of his scars and held it looking into Campy's eyes, "Please be careful with what you plan," he said before he kissed the fingers that had traced his wounds from a tragic accident in the Giro.
Campy smiled and kissed Donatello long and soft on the lips, then blew the candle out next to the bed.
To be continued....
No comments:
Post a Comment