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‘This must have taken years,’ Evan whispered. He was standing in the gallery of Basilica di San Marco, Venice’s famous Byzantine cathedral, his head back, mouth open, trying to take in the gilded detail of the mosaics on the church’s ceiling.
‘Decades, I shouldn’t wonder,’ Scott replied. ‘It really is most impressive.’
They stood in awed silence, basking in the serenity of this sacred space.
‘OH! MY! GAWD!’
Evan’s neck spun towards the unmistakeable sound of an American, as if his head were being sucked into a black hole. An older woman in a white linen suit, dripping in jewellery and with hair so high it almost reached the saints on the ceiling, trooped into the gallery. She planted herself in the centre of the space, flung open her arms and repeated: ‘OH! MY! GAWD!’
Evan saw a figure creep in after her, his face covered with a guidebook.
‘Honey, you have to see this,’ the woman continued at volume. ‘Have you ever seen anything this beautiful in your whole goddamned life?’
By now the rest of the tourists were a-flutter. It was one thing to break the silence of what was, after all, a church, quite another to compound this sin by repeatedly blaspheming. An elderly nun had her hand over her mouth and looked like she could possibly faint at any moment. Looking down onto the floor of the cathedral, Evan could see people peering up to see what was causing the commotion.
‘Honey, honey, come here. Look at this.’ The woman had failed to pick up on any of the multiple reactions surrounding her. ‘Do you think that’s real gold? That must be worth a fortune. I ain’t seen this much bling since Vegas.’
Evan looked over at the man, who had stopped hiding behind his book. He looked like he’d fallen out of the pages of an Abercrombie & Fitch catalogue. He was either her boy toy or her son; Evan guessed the latter, judging by his look of weary embarrassment.
‘Excuse me, madam.’
Evan turned back to see Scott approaching the woman.
‘I’m not sure if you realise this, but we are in a place of worship.’ Scott was employing the measured tone Englishmen reserved for explaining things to their American cousins.
The woman looked at Scott with an air of polite confusion. ‘Why sure, sugar, I know that.’
‘Then perhaps you wouldn’t mind lowering your voice.’
‘Oh, my gawd, I love your accent.’ The woman pinched Scott’s cheek. ‘You English are just adorable.’
Evan snickered, even Scott was going to find this one a challenge. He walked over to Abercrombie and held out his hand. ‘Hi, I’m Evan.’
‘Zach.’ He shook it gratefully.
‘That’s my husband, Scott. I’m guessing that’s your mother he’s with?’
Zach let out a rueful laugh. ‘Yes, sir. I’m afraid she is.’
Scott looked like he’d reached an understanding with Zach’s mum and the two were heading over to join them.
‘How d’you do, I’m Deborah.’ She held out her hand for Evan to shake. ‘I’m so embarrassed, I was blown away by the beauty of this place. I mean, have you ever seen anything like it in your life?’
Evan agreed he hadn’t.
‘In our church, back in Texas, you can whoop and holler as much as you please,’ Deborah said at a lower level she no doubt thought passed for a whisper. ‘Your kind gentleman friend here explained it all to me and offered to show us around, so I don’t get myself in any more trouble.’
‘Oh, did he now?’ Evan raised an eyebrow at Scott, but couldn’t help smiling.
Scott shrugged sheepishly. ‘I was only trying to be helpful.’
‘Well I truly appreciate it,’ Deborah said, ‘and afterwards you must let us buy you dinner. Our little way of saying “grazie”.’
Scott held up his palms. ‘That’s really not necessary.’
‘We insist,’ Zach said. ‘I... we would be glad of the company.’
*****
There was very little chat after that as they toured the rest of the Basilica, the highlight of which was getting up close to the Triumphal Quadriga, Roman-era statues of four horses that had survived looting by Napoleon and the admiring breath of millions of visitors. It had always struck Evan when watching American tourists in London how awed they were by anything that pre-dated their War of Independence. For them anything from over a hundred years ago was considered prehistorical, but Europeans would shrug as if ancient treasures were expected on every street corner. He was glad of the reminder to appreciate these incredible gifts from time.
As soon as they were free of the cathedral’s confines Deborah’s decibel level returned to its original volume. ‘I don’t know about y’all, but I could eat one of them bronze horses.’ She marched them across Saint Mark’s Square to Ristorante Quadri, and quickly scored them an outside table.
This didn’t feel like real life to Evan, it was more like he’d woken up in a movie, mid-scene, and somehow knew all the lines. He prayed nobody would yell “cut”.
The table was on the small side for four people and could barely contain the embarrassment of plates and glasses that had arrived. Not being able to decide on a dish, Deborah had ordered several, claiming she would try one bite from each. ‘What brings you two gentlemen to Venice? Are y’all here on business?’
Evan looked at Scott. ‘No...’
‘They’re here on honeymoon, Ma,’ Zach said.
For the briefest second Evan thought he saw a rush of red to Deborah’s cheeks, but she threw back her head and gave a throaty laugh.
‘Of course y’are, I didn’t like to presume. I think it’s wonderful that y’all can get married now and be as miserable as the rest of us.’
‘That’s what we deserve for constantly banging on about our equal rights,’ Evan said.
Zach laughed. ‘Mother’s sore because my Pa left her for his secretary.’
Deborah shot her son a look. ‘We don’t talk about that, Zachary.’
Scott nervously adjusted his collar. ‘What brings you two to Venice?’
‘My son has graduated from the University of Texas and this is my graduation gift. We’re doing a little European tour.’ Deborah rubbed her son’s hand.
‘Congratulations,’ Evan said. ‘What were you studying?’
‘Law was my major,’ Zach replied, ‘though I’m not sure what I’m going to do now. Work in my father’s firm, I guess.’
Deborah shuddered. ‘No need to rush into any decisions.’
‘Where in Texas are you from?’ Scott asked.
‘A small city outside Houston,’ Zach said.
‘We have a beautiful little home,’ Deborah said, ‘just the two acres.’
Evan covered his mouth with his napkin to hide a smirk. Only a Texan would call two acres “little”.
The conversation continued to flow easily enough, and the pauses allowed them to wallow in the beauty of their surroundings. They’d each chosen a different pasta dish, Evan was struggling to eat his spaghettoni with anything approaching grace. Authentic Italian pasta was always swimming in olive oil, making it virtually impossible to get a good grip. Scott had been much more sensible opting for ravioli.
‘It helps if you use your spoon as a base,’ Zach said, having noticed Evan’s difficulty. ‘You twirl your fork on top and you can get a good hold of it, like this.’
‘Thanks, I’ll try that.’ Evan would swap this any day for a plate of his sister’s spag bol. You could stand a fork up in that.
Scott and Deborah were having a deep discussion about the pros and cons of the American political system, leaving Evan to try and come up with a topic that might interest Zach. In a horrible moment of realisation, he saw that he had shifted up a generation. In his mind he was the young, hot, gay-about-town he’d always been, but he saw reflected in this boy’s eyes the married thirty-something he now truly was.
Zach in the end broke the silence. ‘So how did you and Scott meet?’
Evan smiled at the memory. ‘A blind date believe it or not. A friend set us up...’
Zach grinned. ‘Really? Wow, an honest-to-god blind date. I didn’t think they ever worked out.’
‘This one certainly did. By the end of dinner, Scott was on one knee, asking me to marry him.’
Zach’s jaw dropped. ‘No. Way.’
‘Yes way.’ Evan had always wanted to say that.
‘That is wild. And you said yes? That is awesome.’
Evan gave him the potted version of the last nine months, skipping over one or two of the less flattering details.
‘That is so romantic, I would love to have a story like that to tell someday.’
‘Nobody special back home?’ Evan deliberately left the gender neutral.
Zach sighed and sat back in his chair. ‘There was someone. It didn’t work out.’
‘I’m sorry to hear that. Were you together for long?’
‘Sophomore and Junior years, but we broke up so I could concentrate on Finals.’
Evan wondered if Zach was being deliberately tricky. ‘Well now that’s over, maybe you could get back together.’
Zach frowned. ‘I thought we might, but it didn’t work out that way. What’s London like?’
‘It’s amazing, the best city on the planet.’
‘Better than New York? I doubt it.’
‘I have to admit, I don’t know first-hand, but does New York have a Queen?’
‘From what I hear, it has plenty.’
Evan’s gaydar pinged for the first time, but he couldn’t be sure. He sensed he was being played with, but had no idea why. If it was designed to pique his interest, mission accomplished.
‘What have you boys been talking about?’ Deborah asked.
‘Evan’s been telling me how “amazing” London is, Ma.’
Deborah beamed. ‘Yes, we must discuss that. We’ll be there next week. I want all your recommendations: places to see, restaurants, shows.’
‘We’ll be back by then,’ Evan said, ‘we’ll have to show you around.’
Scott threw an “are you sure?” look at him.
Deborah clapped her hands. ‘That would be wonderful, wouldn’t it, honey.’
Zach grinned. ‘It sure would.’
*****
‘Well that was entertaining.’ Scott collapsed backwards on the bed in their hotel room. ‘Sorry, I mean exhausting. I’ve never met anyone who talks as much as that woman.’
Evan took off his jacket and hung it in the wardrobe. ‘I don’t know, I thought she was rather fun. You were the one who took it upon himself to wrangle her in the cathedral.’
‘Don’t remind me.’
Evan undid his belt and removed his trousers. ‘You were brave bringing up politics with an American, especially one from Texas. Did she match the stereotype?’
‘We adopted the “don’t ask, don’t tell” approach. It was the perfect combination of American reluctance and English reserve. She had plenty of views on how her tax dollars should be spent, but I think that’s true on both sides of the aisle over there.’
Evan unbuttoned his shirt. ‘You certainly gave the impression you were enjoying yourself. That’s why I suggested meeting up with them again in London.’
Scott groaned, rolled over onto his front and buried his head in the duvet.
Evan could just about make out a muffled “don’t remind me”. He finished undressing and started a shower running. He had enjoyed the diversion. However much he loved Scott, it was nice to have some different conversation after three solid days in each other’s company. Plus, he felt sorry for Zach. He knew about formidable mothers and could sense the poor chap’s exasperation.
Evan balled his underwear up and dropped it onto the wardrobe floor. Venice had pathetically low water pressure for a city built on the stuff. It took a few minutes until his skin was wet enough to entice any lather from the tiny hotel soap. Zach was very self-possessed for someone his age. Evan worried how he’d come across, hopefully not like some tedious relative asking him if he’d found someone special yet. He ran the soap up and down his legs. No, he was sure Zach must see him as a peer; what was that term young Americans used these days? That’s right, a “bro”. He and Zach were “bros”. Evan had always wanted a platonic gay friend. Most gay men he’d tried being “just friends” with lost interest when he made it clear that’s all he wanted. Mel and Sally were fantastic besties, but he sometimes wanted the understanding and insight only another gay man could give. He envied Scott’s relationship with Frankie, purely platonic and fiercely loyal. Maybe Zach could be that friend for him - except he lived 5,000 miles away. Evan was struggling to reach the middle of his back when a warm hand took over the job for him and interrupted his fantasy of future friendships.
Scott had stepped into the shower behind him and began massaging Evan’s body. The lather caused his hands to slide, giving Evan the sensation that there was more than one pair at work. Scott pressed his body against Evan’s back and began kissing his nape. Evan rolled his neck to one side, giving Scott’s mouth more territory to explore. Scott’s hands were beginning to focus on one particular region of Evan’s anatomy. Evan leaned back and raised his arm to press Scott’s head against his shoulder. He felt Scott’s soapy hand pressing between his bum cheeks, gently at first, then with more purpose. Scott turned Evan around and planted urgent kisses on his mouth. Evan was close to climax and this burst of passion forced him over the edge. He returned the favour and the two lovers stood in the trickle of water and let it wash them clean.