Untimely Frost ~ WattPride 2023 ~

{7}

I thought I knew what drunk was but I hadn't the slightest until Nikola sat next to me on the patio – our knees touching, our hands centimeters away and I could do nothing but furl and unfurl in this state of nirvana. There was a joyous vibe in the smooth Italian air despite reality sitting a few feet away.

Nikola and my father were engaged in a heated debate about whether or not Hemingway or Shakespeare was the most fascinating.

"The man was a drunk," my father protested as he speared a bite of Tiramisu only to have it fall inelegantly back on his plate.

"I did not think the man who made wine for a living would mind something like that," Nikola teased as he leaned back and crossed his arms over his chest. A smug smile tugged up the corners of his lips.

"He was American," my father scooped the sweet onto his fork with the knife.

Watching them, my mother tisked softly and asked me if I'd like some limoncello.

I nodded and whispered to her that we may need the whole bottle before these two were done.

"All the reason to why he knew of suffering." Nikola waggled his brows to my drink and smiled. "Is he always so insufferable?"

I shrugged then handed him my limoncello. "If I say yes, I lose my inheritance so..." I began to nod, "no."

"Ahhh, Gianni, you are a traitor." My father dramatically dropped his fork on the plate making my mother chuckle. "Hemingway is just a drunk Twain."

Nikola shook his head and took a sip of drink The liquor was barely down his throat before he replied, "He knew of torment and depth. Shakespeare knew frilly words, incest, and teenage suicide."

I clasped my hand over my mouth and followed my mother's chuckling.

"Am I right or am I right?" Nikola raised his glass. He clinked it with my mother's and then mine.

After we took a sip, I felt myself zoning out. I stared at him and drowned out everything else around me. I was happy he was happy. No. Happy is such a stupid word for what I felt. Elated. Jubilant. I was every frilly word my father's favourite writer could think of to describe joy.

I wanted to savor the moment. Cherish it. I wanted to put is in a treasure chest and keep it with me forever.

Funny how quickly time flies when you are living life the way you have dreamed of. But then something comes to prick that beautiful bubble. I caught sight of that tiny cut and melted into my seat.

The joy...it was not so perfect anymore. That joy, well, it now began to ache.

I kept staring at the scar. It would never heal. It would never have enough time to.

I pictured Nikola laying in the operating room. The surgeons battling to remove whatever was left of the cancer. I'm sure they tried hard but in my heart, it was not hard enough. Rage came over me. I thought of the doctors who did not get the whole devil out. I wanted to hit something...someone.

"Gianni?" I felt a warm hand on my arm pulling me out of my thoughts. Looking up, I saw Nikola with concern in his eyes. "You were scrunching up your face like your head was about to explode." Warm fingers squeezed.

My jaw hurt. My teeth were gnashing against each other. I drew in a breath and relaxed my muscles. "I'm alright," I lied. "Too much food and limoncello. That's all."

"I think we all ate too much," my mother pipped in. In an instant, she was up collecting dishes.

My father rose, as well, and took her in his arms before she could head off into the kitchen. "Bella, Bella. The dishes can be collected later. Perhaps the boys would like a walk around the grounds to work off the food." He looked at us and smiled. "It always helps."

Before my mother could protest that insects would get to the scraps, he told her he'd send the maids out shortly and that they should take it easy and retire to watch a movie he had been simply dying to see for months now.

I knew what he was up to. He wanted me to have the rest of the night with Nikola. He too knew time was not something we had in abundance.

My mother wiggled out of my father's embrace and came to hug both Nikola and I good night. "The stars are beautiful tonight," she commented as she brushed a stray lock of hair back from my face. If she had noticed the hickey, she remained discreet.

We thanked them for the meal, and I, in my heart, thanked them for being so understanding and wise.

As she returned to my father's side, she blew us kisses and they began to head for the house.

Plates speckled in crumbs, glasses stained with liquor, forks and knives placed haphazardly on the cloth napkins. What was left of our feast was no more. The sight of that brought me such bitter-sweetness.

"Shall we go for that walk?" Nikola brushed his lips against my ear.

Above, the moon twinkled. It cast its rays of light on the paths, illuminating the way – but I could walk through the grounds blindfold. I knew of every inch. I wrapped my arms around Nikola and breathed in his scent. I wanted to know every inch of him as well as I knew of the grounds. I wanted to memorize him, commit him to memory, and let him be inside me forever.

I looked up at him. He was magic, as beauty and love and music are. "Yes, let's go." Taking his hand, I led him into the moonlight.