Page 64 of Capuleto

I saw him half-leaning on the club's bar with a beer in hand.

"Don't cry over me. If you want tears, go to an onion peeling festival."

"You're more into peeling cocks, and if you cry, it's out of pity for seeing the size of some," Aleksa quipped.

Our friend let out a laugh and clinked his bottle with Aleksa's.

"Amen. Some have it so small they look like balloon knots. Luckily, we are well-endowed."

I watched them with a foolish smile on my face and the certainty that, although we had discussed our funerals, death would catch us as old men.

How wrong I was! In a world like ours, Death could come visit you at any moment, even disguised as an enraged journalist. That's why it was better not to get caught up in trivialities and go after the important things.

As expected, the doctor discharged me in the morning, so we scheduled Dante's last goodbye for that very afternoon.

We made the journey on motorcycles. I didn't care that I wasn't fully recovered; it was the least I could do for my friend.

Nikita drove and I rode pillion, reminiscing every landscape I had visited with him.

I had never taken a journey sweeter, salty, acidic, and bitter. Each flavor exploded in my chest, filling it with joyful memories and regrets.

The last rays of sun faded with my fingers embedded in my wife's waist. She was my anchor, my engine, and I let her know by murmuring it into her ear.

The mocking smile of the moon lit a sky full of stars. I thought I saw Dante swinging on it, raising his middle finger to shout his "last one to do it is a pansy." He was already in heaven, filling it with his unique essence.

The pendants shone on my neck and Aleksa's. Dante's would be kept until it was placed in a place of honor when the club was rebuilt.

We planted the tree, and Irene, who came with one of the guys, wanted to dedicate a few beautiful words to him.

Nikita said nothing about it, though from the look she gave the redhead, it was clear she still disliked her.

"She's not as bad as you think, you should give her a chance," I whispered against her neck.

"That's for you to do," she remarked, pulling away from my embrace.

"What do you mean?" I asked, not understanding.

"I don't know; don't you have anything to tell me about her?" I thought she was referring to Irene's offer to come and treat me, somehow she had found out and I hadn't had time to inform her.

"Look, Nikita, you know I love you, I've told you, and it's not as bad as it might seem to you. I've known Irene for years, it's normal for us to have a close relationship..."

"Close?"

"You'd think differently if you knew her, give her a chance, she's willing. We'd do it in front of you and it would only be once a day until you got used to it. Who knows, you might even like it."

"Fuck no! What the hell do you think I am? Some fucking furniture?"

"Better her than some stranger we don't know at all to look after me." Deep down, I knew it was a lost argument. My wife would not stand the idea of Irene treating me, but I owed it to my friend to try.

"Look, Romeo, I'd prefer to leave this conversation for when you're a bit more recovered, but since you've brought it up, I want you to know that I will not tolerate you fucking that redheaded whore while I watch. The last time you did, it ended with her having a gash on her forehead, and if you touch her again while we're married, there won't be a gash, but a bullet."

Everyone had fallen silent, even me. Nikita's voice was the only one that resonated strongly, accompanied by a little shriek of consternation from Irene.

Aleksa cleared his throat and I stared in amazement at my wife's face, boiling with anger.

"What the hell...?" I muttered under my breath. She had misunderstood me!

I took her by the hand and dragged her to a more private place to clarify things.

---