Page 34 of Duke for the Summer

“Hey, how’s the weather over there?” Dave asked. His beard was bigger and a little grayer than the last time Nate had seen him.

Nate’s heart twisted a little, and he wet his lips, trying to come up with something to say as he waved at the phone. It was weird seeing them here, this little piece of his other life deposited into Beatrice’s back garden. Weird to hear their voices echoing out into the warm, fragrant air. He knew the pattern on their sofa by heart, recognized all the paintings on the wall behind them.

Thea had pulled Beatrice over, introducing her to their parents, and soon the rest of the women were crowding around the phone as well. Everyone was talking over each other, asking questions, Nonna’s sparkly coffin nails catching the light as she gestured, Gracie trying to provide translation but getting overwhelmed. Nate felt a little dizzy seeing Beatrice and Barb in the same space, his plump, sweet-faced mom with her chunky giraffe earrings so different from Beatrice in her crisp starched blouse and raisin-colored lipstick, her severe expression breaking into a smile as they talked. Heat rushed to Nate’s cheeks as he realized they were talking about him, and he drained his wine glass, wishing he could duck out of sight, but Beatrice’s hand was on his arm, and she was pulling him into frame.

“Your son good boy,” she said, brandishing him at the screen as if to prove her point.

“Aw, isn’t he? I’m so glad you’re having a good time there, Natey.”

“Thanks,” Nate said. He could feel sweat gathering under his collar.

“Where’s your son? What was his name, Jacob? Oh, he was so sweet, and I remember we were so nervous about Nate going all the way to Italy on his own–”

Beatrice looked over her shoulder, shouting across the garden. “Ehi! Jacopo, vieni!” She motioned to him to come over.

“Oh, Jacopo, hi!” Barb exclaimed when he came into view, a hangdog look on his face. The smell of smoke clung to him, and his shoulder was very warm where it brushed against Nate’s. Nate didn’t dare to look up at him, his face feeling as bright as a lantern. “It’s so good to see you! Have you been doing well?”

“Yes, Mrs. Schafer. It’s nice to see you, too.”

“Oh, you don’t have to be so formal.” She tucked a knitting needle behind her ear. “But anyway, Beatrice, like I was saying, we were so worried that Nate was going to be by himself, and how hard it would be for him, getting used to living in a foreign country. But your boy was so helpful, and so smart and responsible, and I just felt like there was no one else I’d trust more to keep Nate company and watch out for him.”

“Hm,” said Beatrice, after Gracie had translated. She looked at Jacopo, arms crossed skeptically.

Jacopo’s finger nudged against Nate’s hand where it hung at his side. He cleared his throat.

“And I know I was right, because it looks like you’re having a wonderful time!” Barb continued. “Thea has been sending the most beautiful pictures.”

Thea took over, telling her about the amphitheater and the beaches, and Nate joined her in describing the castle, its quirks and weird frescos and many rooms. Nate’s pulse was elevated despite the change of subject. He scratched the back of his neck, finding it sweaty.

“Nate’s got a huge claw-foot tub in his bathroom, and I’m gonna kick him out and take a bath in it tonight,” Thea said,elbowing him.

“Are you?”

“Hell yeah. A bubble bath in a castle? That’s going to be fire.”

“Ooh, I hope not,” Dave said. “Sounds toasty.”

“Daaaave-uh,” Thea groaned.

They talked about Thea’s travel plans, how she was headed to Milan next, and then to Venice, and when Dave asked Nate if he was planning to travel, too, he found himself fumbling, not sure what to say. Of course he wanted to; all these places that he had only seen in 2D were now possible, but somehow he couldn’t picture himself there. He couldn’t really picture anything beyond September, and he looked around for Jacopo, only to find that he had snuck off.

He found him later, in the kitchen, after the party had wound down and Zia Grazia had left, taking Nonna with her. Gracie had said he might be there. Nate stood in the doorway for a moment, watching him, the tight set of his shoulders and the economic way he dried each plate in a few swipes. Wondering what he was thinking.

“Hey. Can I help?”

“Nate.” Jacopo turned in surprise, wiping his hands on a towel. He crossed the room in a few short strides, and then his arms were around Nate, his face buried in his hair. He clung to him for a moment, inhaling deeply, as if breathing him in.

Nate clutched Jacopo’s shirt, his heart hiccupping in his chest. “What’s this for?”

“Nothing.” Jacopo nuzzled against his scalp, planting a kiss on his forehead. “Nothing, I just wanted to hold you.” He sighed. “You have a good family.”

*

They went to Palermo for Thea’s last day, wandering palm-lined streets that wove through a tangle of eras and architectural styles: Byzantine, Roman, Islamic. Jacopo narrated, telling Nate about the history of the buildings, about the Bible scenes depicted in cathedrals that were soaring and sumptuous and gilded inside. The sheer awe of it, the sensory overload of colors and geometry, made him grab Jacopo’s hand and squeeze, forgetting for a moment that Gracie and Thea were there. In the city markets, they saw bundles of hot peppers, wickedly sharp and lipstick-red. They ate arancini out of brown paper bags, their fingers and lips greasy, and spooned gelato out of brioche buns–a local specialty of carbs-on-dairy-on-carbs that horrified Nate a little with its extravagance.

Thea wanted a do-over of her and Gracie’s club night, so the four of them ended up in a sweltering discotheque, bass thudding in Nate’s chest and his sneakers sticking to the floor. The DJ was playing some mashup of American pop hits and European techno that did nothing for him, but Nate was content to stand at the bar with Jacopo, watching the neon lights play over his face, the long arc of his neck as he tilted his head back to drink from his beer. It would be nice to dance with him, though Nate knew it wouldn’t happen. Nice to press up against him and feel their bodies slide against each other, to lace his arms around his neck and breathe in the smell of his sweat and not care if anyone saw. The thought made him restless, and he had to get away from it, so Nate moved out onto the dance floor to keep Thea and Gracie company.

The night started to get away from him at that point. There were shots, and some hot-pink liquid in a plastic test tube that Thea made him try, and a few absolutely stupid dance moves that were unbecoming of a duke, and then a long period of darkness from which a few bleary memories surfaced, like jellyfish in the deep: peeing in a tiny bathroom that smelled like socks and old urine, bracing himself with one hand againstthe wall, graffiti crawling across the plaster before his eyes. Shouting in Thea’s ear over the music, something impassioned and extremely important that he couldn’t remember. Jacopo dragging him outside for some air, his shirt sticking to his chest and his hair in his eyes. Bumming a cigarette that his fingers couldn’t hold, telling Jacopo how bad these things were for you. Kissing in an alleyway, the brick scraping his shoulder blades and Jacopo’s hands squeezing his ass and the music throbbing through the wall behind them.

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