10. Nick

Parts of the following phone call have been translated for the audience’s convenience. Those who wish for a transcript of the original may contact the author directly and/or leave up-to-date contact details in the comments below. As always, feel free to leave a comment! They’re all read, cherished, and put up on the walls to prove that the audience aren’t just as made-up as Nick and Luke.

The Skype call logo came up on top of the academic paper he was reading, ringing merrily at him.
His parents. He scrambled for the headset.
“Pronto?”

“Nicola? It’s your mother.”

Elisa had given their parents a Skype phone and a year-long subscription, which confused both of his parents a lot less than using a computer. They still had a typewriter in his father’s study.

“Hi, Mamma.” He said, minimising the paper and stopping all his downloads to make the connection less shaky.

“Hello, my love. How are you?”

“Good, I’m doing well. How are you and Dad?”

“We’re ok. Your father’s knees are doing funny things again, but it’s just old age. Are you busy?”

“Never for you, Mamma.” Nick smiled at the screen, forgetting they couldn’t see him, “What’s up?”

“You are coming home for Christmas, aren’t you?”

Nick started playing with the wire connecting him to his laptop, “Yes, of course.”

“And you have tickets?”

“Yes, Mamma. How are Elisa and Irene?”

“They’re doing well. You should call them, I know they would love to hear from you.”
“I’m actually waiting for Elisa to reply to an e-mail. And everyone else?”

“Everyone is well, for now. Nuria, from next door, you remember Nuria, her daughter Antonia is coming down from Turin for the holidays and Gaetano and Daria are visiting your aunt.” (Unspoken: Your cousins, darling.)

“Gaetano is coming back from America?”

“For Christmas and her birthday. Irene is bringing Massimo.” (Your sister, darling.)

“Really? Wow. They must be getting serious.”

“Bello mio, you never talk about girlfriends.” (What about you, darling?)

It doesn’t help, thought Nick, that Italian is a language where even the nouns have been assigned a gender and there is no way to say ‘partner’ without revealing ‘boyfriend’.

“I know, Mamma.”

“But you seem to be happy.”

“I am happy.”

“I just want you to be happy. You know that, right? I’m your mother.”

“I know, Mamma,” he sighed, head in his hands, “I love you.”

“And I love you, bello. When do you arrive?”

“The 22^nd.”

“So late?”

Nick huffed out a laugh, “I’ve got work to do.”

“They work you like slaves. Are they paying you enough for your talents?”

“As much as they can.”

“Good. Do you want to speak to your father?”

“If he wants to.”

She was half-shouting before he had even finished his sentence, “Of course he does, he’s your father – Robert. Robert! Telefono!”

There was a short interlude while his father came to the phone. Here came the language switch into English.

“Pronto?”

“Hey, Dad.”

“Nicola! It’s good to hear from you. How are you?”

“Good, thanks. You?”

“Not too bad. Got tricksy knees, but hey, I’m not as young as I used to be, you now?”

His parents had always done this. Irene called it their hive-mind. They said they were vasi comunicanti, communicating vessels, that they shared everything and in so doing were equals.

The image appealed to Nick’s scientist brain. He wondered if he and Luke would ever get to be so in tune that they told the same stories.

“I know, but you’re still going to live forever.”

An old joke, but Nick secretely hoped it was true. Nobody deserved to live forever more than his parents.

“You bet,” he could picture his father’s smile, “I’ve still got to meet my grandkids, don’t I?”

Nicola smiled at the screen vacantly, text going slightly blurry.

“Right.”

“You coming down for Christmas?”

“Yeah, the 22^nd. Will you pick me up?”

“Of course. And when are you flying back?”

“29^th evening.”

“Ah, we’re spending New Year’s Eve in London, are we?”

There’s an Italian saying that says you spend Christmas with family, but New Year’s Eve with who you want. Nick was sure it had just crossed his Dad’s mind too.

“Got someone special to share it with?”

Nick shrugged, as though his body language would help him sound less guilty.

“Something like that.”

“You don’t have to tell me,” said his Dad, catching the completely wrong end of the stick, “if it’s still unsure. A bit hush-hush, eh? Don’t worry, I won’t tell your mother.”

Nick laughed, “Thanks.”

“Hope they know they’re lucky to have you, though.”

Nick moaned, “Da-ad!”

“Alright, alright. Are you flying with BA?”

“Alitalia,” corrected Nick, “I’ll text you the details the day before.”
“Perfect. Ok, son, get back to work, but don’t work too hard. I know you’re probably staring at a journal of some sort, but there are people in this world who you don’t want to miss meeting. Speaking of which, your mother looks like she’s making tea and I would love a cuppa. Talk soon.”

“Bye, Dad. Love you both.”

“Bye, Nick.”

The click on the other side felt louder than it usually was.

He pulled the headset off and hung his head in his hands.

He hated deceiving them, had never been good at lying, especially to the people he loved, but they just wouldn’t understand. His mother wouldn’t understand.

She wouldn’t stop loving him, no, but she would set him up, tell him it was a phase, try to convince him of feminine wiles and God’s will and hadn’t he tried that? Hadn’t he told himself it was something he would grow out of? Hadn’t he tried to fool himself into it so much that he had gone out with Licia Remoti from school and almost had sex with her at 17, before back out of her bedroom and the relationship, disgusted with himself? He had tried to fall in love with her, tried to be someone he wasn’t for the sake of everyone else, but he was gay and he was alright with that.

He didn’t want to lose his family over this.

He ran a hand through his hair and shut the laptop.

This wasn’t the first time he’d had this conversation with them, but it was getting bad. Irene had been with Massimo for years and marriage was definitely on the horizon. Elisa was a free bird but a serial monogamist, someone who flitted from relationship to relationship quickly but with her whole heart, head first, with all the conviction of someone who knows true love is out there somewhere.

They fit into the three child stereotype quite well.

Irene with her forever man. Elisa with the queue of men waiting for her to dump the latest loser (and they were all losers, he knew). And himself, forever single. Forever pretending to be single.

He got up to make a cup to tea, just like his parents. Some comfort rituals are genetic.

It used to be easier to lie.

Nick sighed as he put the kettle on.

With Richard it hadn’t mattered. He had never wanted to meet Nick’s family. He had said his own family was extremely Christian, that they would disown him, that he loved Nick but couldn’t risk his family and fuck that had resonated, Nick knew exactly what that felt like, Nick had understood.

Turns out, of course, that during any remotely religious holiday his presence as husband and father had been required at home – which also explained why Nick hadn’t been over to Richard’s house very often. It must have been difficult to coordinate that many absences in one go.

He poured the boiling water into his mug.

The whole relationship had been a disaster from beginning to end, even if Nick could only admit that in hindsight.

But Luke?

They had been sitting on the sofa, both working on their own things, and Luke’s parents had Skyped.

Luke smiled, then turned to him, “Do you mind?”

“Not at all. Do you want me to sit at the table?”
“What?” said Luke, “Don’t be silly, stay here.”

“Hi Mum, Dad – meet Nick!”

And Nick froze.

It’s not that he didn’t want to meet Luke’s parents, he did – it was scary how much of Luke he wanted to himself, all of the knowledge he could possibly glean about this astonishing, caring, wonderful man – but it shocked him to think that he was important enough to Luke that he wouldn’t think twice about introducing him to his parents, even if only by Skype.

“Hello!” waved the man who was unmistakeably Luke’s father, “Lovely to meet you.”
“And you, sir.”

“Oh,” said his mother, who was sitting in front of the man, “I like this one, very polite. Hullo, dear.”

Nick gave a dorky little wave that he later felt very embarrassed about.

“Do call us Harry and Juliet, it’s much easier.”

“Luke says you’re a scientist?”

Luke’s mother put a hand on her husband’s arm, “An astrophysicist, dear.”

“Oh, yes. Nick?”

“Yes, sir. I’m doing a doctorate at Imperial College.”

“Luke tells us you’re very brilliant.”

Luke turned a light fuchsia.

“I try, sir. Luke is amazing too.”

“Yes,” said Harry, teasing, “Luke tells us that too.”

“Harry,” Juliet swatted his arm, wearing Luke’s fond-but-exasperated expression, “Honestly.”

“Is our boy treating you right?”

“Better than I deserve, I think.”

Luke squeezed his hand.

“Good, good, excellent. And you, he?”

Nick quirked a smile, “I like to think so, sir.”

Luke kissed his cheek, seeming not to care that it was in front of his parents, “Definitely, Dad.”

Nick went supernova red, “Luke. Parents...”

“That’s ok,” he said, grinning at the webcam, “They know how I feel about you.”

Onscreen, Juliet giggled as Harry kissed her forehead.

They had chatted for another 10, maybe 15 minutes before family news took over.

Luke didn’t ask about Nick’s family at all, obviously waiting for Nick to start that particular conversation.

Well damn.

By the time Nick came back to the present, his tea was stone cold. He had been stirring it the whole time.

He shook his head then stretched, carefully popping his spine.

It was much too early to go to the Epiphany, but he needed to do something.

Time for a workout. Maybe some exercise would clear his head.

Life was glorious, Luke was wonderful, work was good and it all swam by like it was trying to win a race. Apart from the instances it met the frozen current coming from his PhD supervisor.

“What time is your flight on Friday?”

Luke was making dinner as Nick squinted at the latest e-mail, trying to figure out exactly what it was that he was apparently getting so wrong. The previous 3 e-mails contradicted each other.

“Just after 4,” he said, “Why?”

“I was wondering if you needed a ride.”

“Nah, it’s Heathrow, I’ll just Tube it – hang on. You have a car?”
“Yeah. The building has a garage.”

“I didn’t know!”

“Huh,” said Luke, sliding something into a simmering pot, “Must have slipped my mind. I thought I’d told you.”

“I wonder what else slipped your mind – come on, Luke, what else don’t I know?”

“Well,” said Luke, using the knife to make his gestures bigger and attempting a serious face, “I have to admit, apart from my perfectly normal job in marketing, I do a spot of on-demand killing on the side. Not an awful lot, just enough to keep in practise, you understand. I hope that won’t be a problem, dear.” He joked, going back to his veg.

“Seriously, though,” pressed Nick, wondering if he was ever going to get rid of his all-consuming need to know everything, currently focused on knowing about Luke, “I want to know.”
Luke tilted his head at him curiously, “Yeah?”

He gave half a shrug, “I always want to know.”

Luke paused in his chopping again, “Ok. How about we ask one question each, no holds barred, and the other has to reply? Truth.”

Nick could feel the crease in his forehead appearing.

Luke frowned right back at him before comprehension dawned on his face.

“I won’t ask about Richard. I meant what I said – when you’re ready, and not before.”

Nick nodded, “Ok. Let me think. You first?”

Luke bit his lip as he considered his options.

It took Nick a moment to restrain himself into not biting it for him.

“You first.”

Alright. He started fiddling with the reports in a pile on the table in front of him.

“Can I ask about Sofia?”

Luke put the knife down and wiped his hands on a tea towel, “You can ask me anything.”

Nick bit the inside of his cheek and confessed, “I don’t want you to think I’m insecure in this relationship.”

Luke walked round the island slowly.

“That sounds ominous.”

“I’m, well. I guess I’m a little afraid that I’m the rebound guy. You were with Sofia for years – how do you let go of something like that so quickly?”

Luke flopped into the chair opposite Nick, frowning again, this time in concentration. It was the same look he had when he was doing something complicated for work.

“I think Sofia and I were over long before she left. She was right about that. Don’t get me wrong, I felt angry and hurt and betrayed when she went, but I don’t think I was in love with her any more. Together we grew up and grew apart, it’s just…” he waved a hand, making an aborted gesture, “It’s just the way it went. I didn’t miss her. And, much as I’m loathe to admit it, Edo was right. Not rushing things with you meant I got to know you.”

“Not rushing things?” Nick laughed, “We took it slow. Glacially slow. Painfully slow. Blue ball slow.”

“But I rather like where we ended up, don’t you?”

Nick laughed again.

Luke watched him, soft smile on his face. Nick ducked his head. Sometimes Luke would do that, would look at him all fond and loving and awed like he was surprised Nick was still around.

It scared the hell out of him.

“I don’t want you to read anything into this,” he said, which had alarm bells ringing all over the place even as he tried to keep calm, “But have you come out to your family?”

Oh.

He must have pulled a strange sort of face, because Luke goes straight from general concern to worry.

“They wouldn’t hurt you, would they?”

“No, God no, of course not. They just wouldn’t…” he sighs, trying to find the right word, “They wouldn’t understand.”

“I’m sorry.”

“It's ok – sort of. They love me, but they're really conservative, especially my mother. She physically embodies every religious Italian woman stereotype that exists. I think she would try to understand, but it's just not in her concept of love. Men love women and that's just how it is.”

Luke nodded, “And your father?”

“I don't know. We've never talked about it. It really isn't something that was talked about in our house.”

“Do you ever think about coming out to them?”

“Sometimes,” Nick hesitated, “but I don't think it would do any good. I have no intention of getting frog-marched back into the closet by disappointed family. I couldn’t bear the looks on their faces, the betrayed disappointment…”

Luke pulled his chair around close enough that Nick could turn around and bury his face in his neck if he wanted to. He swayed towards him, but he needed Luke to understand before he reached for that comfort.

“I just can’t. Even for you.”

Luke took the decision away from his by wrapping his arms around him.

“It’s ok – it wasn’t for me at all. It was for you.”

Nick made a noise into the hollow of Luke’s throat that he correctly interpreted as curious.

“You light up then dim back down when you talk about them; it’s obvious that you love them, I just wondered if that was why you mostly avoid talking about them and where you come from.”

Did he avoid talking about them?

Nick pulled back to look at Luke properly.

“We’re a family of 5. My parents, Ginevra and Robert, still live in the same house they bought when they got married. I have two younger sisters, Elisa and Irene. Elisa is 23 and she is in her last year at the university of Padova, doing BioMedical Sciences, while Irene, who is 25, has just started a job in Milan with a civil engineering firm. We were born and grew up in the tiniest village in Southern Italy that you've ever seen – only 8 houses all together, all of them old people. Well,” he amended, “Old compared to us. Mostly grandparents, you know?”

“Right.”

“We had to be driven to primary school every morning, when we all went to the same school, but as of secondary school onwards we took buses. The system splits people at various ages into different types of schools. All my friends lived in different villages, some of them even in the same towns as the school, but it was difficult to keep in contact with them. It was ridiculous – it took me 50 minutes to get to class every day. Not like now,” he said, smiling weakly, “where it takes me 20 minutes on the tube and a short walk!”

Luke’s eyes were searching his with an intensity he hadn’t seen before.

“I never wanted to stay in Italy – the university system is really awful. It takes forever to get a degree, because you can choose when to do your exams and people actually put them off so that they're still doing the same degree 6 years after they've started. But the whole system is flawed. I went through the UCAS system for universities here, having set my heart on Imperial, and they were kind enough to give me a place. I never really left London, even doing another Masters in Durham.”

“Another Masters?”

“Yeah,” Nick hugged him again, hiding his face in Luke’s shirt, not wanting to see that expression people wore when they judged his academic side, “I did a Masters in Particles, Strings and Cosmology there and one in straight Physics here before that.”

There was a pause.

Then, “Thank you. For letting me in.”

Nick hugged him tighter.

Luke nuzzled at his hair, “You know I’m not going to leave you, don’t you?”

“What?”

“I’m not going to break up with you because you’re smarter than me, or your friends are weird, or because you’re worried about coming out to your family.”

Nick didn’t really know how to respond to that, so he broke the hug to pull Luke down into a kiss. He didn’t have the words in any language to tell him exactly how grateful he was, but their bodies would figure it out.