Love Is Strange (A Paranormal Romance) (24 page)

“No, no, no! That’s not called ‘being angry,’ that’s called ‘being realistic!’ Weren’t you listening to any of those important things I just said to you? That was a long list of serious relationship problems! Are we
joking
about our future? It’s our future, it’s not a joke! Marriage is a lifelong commitment! Marriage is a holy sacrament!”

“Gavin... What
is
a ‘Swedish Methodist?’”

“TheTremaines have always been Swedish Methodists! That’s our family tradition. I’m theologically ecumenical... but yes, I do go to Covenant services. I find that it helps me. My faith helps me within my church community, and within my private life as well. Sometimes, I pray for guidance.”

“My parents are Communists.”

“You’re kidding me.”

“Don’t worry, don’t worry! I hate the Communists. I’m an Italian Futurista. So, I always vote for the Neo-Fascists.”

Gavin gazed at the darkening, star-studded sky. He sipped from his wineglass. Then, he sighed. “This must be happening to us for some good reason. Somehow, we were fated to meet here on this island. There is some vital, valuable lesson for us here... We are two young people. We have our whole futures ahead of us... Well, sometimes, wonderful things pass between a man and woman, beautiful things... that they have to
renounce
.”

“’Renounce’?” she said at last. “What does that mean?”

“It means that suffering can bring spiritual growth to people. When I was a kid, they taught me the Convenant Prayer. I learned that prayer by heart. Listen to what this prayer says. It speaks to people who suffer, like us.”

Gavin drew a deep breath.
‘Put me to what you will, rank me with whom you will; put me to doing, put me to suffering; let me be employed for you or laid aside for you, exalted for you or brought low for you; let me be full, let me be empty, let me have all things, let me have nothing; I freely and wholeheartedly yield all things to your pleasure and disposal.’

Farfalla wiped at her eyes. “Oh! What beautiful wedding vows! I didn’t know they were so lovely.”

“You’re not supposed to say that to
your girlfriend!
You’re supposed to say that to God!”

“Oh! I’m sorry.”

A long silence passed between them. Swallows winged their way over the mountaintop.

“Look,” he said, at last, “don’t feel bad. I’m not offended. I mean, it’s sacred to me, but how were
you
to know that? Actually, when you said that to me? That was
funny
. I mean, that was
totally
funny. I just read a book by Mark Twain that was full of blasphemous stuff like that. I respect Mark Twain. Mark Twain was the funniest depressive guy in America.”

“You’re not mad at me anymore?”

“Honey, how could I be mad at you? I was never mad. You’re too pretty for me to stay mad. That look on your sweet face just slays me. I could die from how pretty you are. Look, we’re just two foreigners. Okay? It’s natural that some things between us are confusing. Now, if you can’t understand what I say to you, right away, don’t think that I must be mad at you, it’s just… It’s just
very important
, that’s all! We can’t just kiss and part! That is wrong! It’s decadent and cruel! It’s unworthy of two people like us — insightful people, forward-thinking people. We shouldn’t do bad, deceitful things that can hurt us, and hurt the people around us.”

Farfalla silently poured herself more prosecco.

“Even if,” Gavin said heavily, “
even if
we are both pretty sure that we could get away with it. And that it would be super-hot.”

“It’s like
Roman Holiday
, with Audrey Hepburn
,”
Farfalla said. “You talk just like that old movie.”

“Yeah, I know that movie,
Roman Holiday
. Italians love that movie. That movie’s got their cultural values.”

“I saw that movie. The man loves the woman. He can’t have the woman. She is a beautiful princess with a beautiful haircut. He’s a dirty American reporter, who doesn’t even have a kitchen in his apartment.”

“Well, maybe I wouldn’t have framed it quite that way, but...” Gavin slowly spread his hands. What nice, strong hands he had. She was dying over his hands. “If you examine that film as a Futurist scenario, well, they were making an intelligent decision. Because that movie is called
‘Roman Holiday.’
It’s not called
‘Reporter Elopes With a Princess.’”

“Princess Elopes with a Reporter.”

“That was your Italian chick-flick version. That film was scripted by an American guy. Dalton Trumbo. He was a McCarthy-era American Communist. It should have been called
‘Communist Subversive Makes Audrey Hepburn a Star.
’”

“All right,” said Farfalla, shoving her wine-glass aside. “You always know so much more than me! I loved that sweet romantic movie, it’s my favorite American movie. I will hate it forever now, but it was my favorite. I give up. You win! Just tell me that you love me. Tell me that you are my One, my one true love. So that I can believe it until I die. No matter where I go. No matter that my poor life is full of sad royal duties and ugly 50’s hats. Just say it to me and I will go away, forever, like in your stupid Communist movie. Then, you can go back to your Madeleine.”

“I
am
going back to my Madeleine. I have a flight out from Naples, and I’m leaving Capri at 7 a.m. tomorrow. That part is totally settled.”

“I am going back home, too. I won’t be lonely without you. I’m going back to my Pancrazio.”

“Your boyfriend’s name is ‘Pancrazio’? That’s an unusual name.”

“He’s an unusual man.”

“’Pancrazio’... Wait a second. Your boyfriend isn’t ‘Pancho Pola,’ is he? ‘Dr. Pancrazio Pola,’ the guy who runs that awesome chip lab in Ivrea?”

“You know him?”

“Of course, I know Pancho Pola! He’s world-famous! He’s one of my business partners. You are
Pancho Pola’s girlfriend?
Good God, no wonder you know so much about electronics.”

“Pancrazio always works very hard.”

“How come you never show up when I’m taking Pancho out to all those posh dinners in Milan? Pancho never said one word to me about you! If I knew, if I even
thought
that
you
were Pancho Pola’s girlfriend... Oh, my God, really. I would never. There is just no way.”

She said nothing.

“I really don’t know what else to say here! We’re not sitting on the top of some mountain. We’re right on the lip of an Italian volcano!”

Farfalla retrieved her prosecco glass and took a measured sip.

“Your boyfriend is a genius! Did you know that? He’s a world-famous inventor! That guy is probably the most gifted circuit-designer in Europe. He is the hardware-head of all hardware-heads! Pancho is an ultimate, stone geek!”

Farfalla said nothing.

“And you really
live with him
? You must have the patience of a saint.”

“Don’t say any more,” Farfalla muttered. “I am getting angry.”

“Look, I am
not angry
, all right? Every time you said I was angry, I was
not angry.
I know that Pancho has his geeky quirks, but... that guy is a personal friend of mine. I’ve known him for years. It’s just that... wow.”

“
I
am angry. I am angry with you! How can you say that to me? You make me feel like dirt! I hate you! I hate you forever now. I never want to see you again.”

“Sorry. Sorry, Farfalla. Maybe I kind of put my foot in my mouth.”

“I don’t want your stupid foot! Get your foot away from me! Just give me my kiss , tell me my special words, and then, go away forever.”

“What are you on about now? You need me to kiss your foot? I don’t get that.”

“No, no, no! It’s just — the One that I love, he has to kiss me, and he has to say my words! When the words are said to me, then my future Love Story comes true!”

After thinking this over, at some length, Gavin nodded. “Special words, huh? Like a declaration of some kind, like a spell, is that what you’re saying?”

“Just tell me my words, and stop arguing. You are my One, so I know you must know the words.”

“So, is this the traumatic thing that happened to you when you were twelve? This is some sort of Brazilian voodoo prophecy.”

“That was always my future story. Except now, it should be
now.
Not the future any more,
now.
Except, now, it isn’t happening. Because you aren’t doing it. I hate you.”

“You realize that sounds completely freaked-out and bizarre to me, right? I mean, I don’t do occult stuff like that.”

“It’s not ‘occult!” It’s only ‘occult’ to
you.
Because you are stupid!”

“Okay! Fine! I’m stupid! I’m not going to argue with you! Obviously, that’s fruitless. Farfalla, I really want to help you. Seriously, I want to help you live your dream. So, what do I say to you? ‘I love you.’” Gavin looked up expectantly and then, his face fell. “’Yes, you are mine, I am yours.’ ‘I have never loved any woman like this before.’ “Gavin loves Farfalla.’ ‘Gavin Tremaine loves Farfalla Corrado.’”

She said nothing.

“Am I supposed to say it to you in Italian?
Ti amo! Il mio cuore è tuo! Fa caldo qui o è la tua presenza?”
¹¹

“If you really loved me, you wouldn’t have such a bad accent.”

“Look, this is not fair at all. Tell me what it is, what you need me to say. Just tell me the mystery. Say it, so I can say it to you. Why is this such a big puzzle? Are you trying to torture me and force me to solve your weird riddle? Are you the Sphinx, sitting there? Just tell me whatever it is! I’ll say it for you, I swear I will! Write it down on a napkin, I’ll recite it aloud.”

Farfalla crossed her arms.

“How can I know what to say, if you don’t tell me what it is? Look, don’t get that sour look on your face! I know I’m not doing it right — whatever it is you expect.”

A falling-star scratched the twilight sky overhead.

Gavin was struggling. “Look, we’re at an impasse here. Give me a break! Don’t get sulky! I am not judging you, I’m not complaining. If we were married, I’m sure you could make me as miserable as any other woman in the world.”

“Thanks.”

“Okay, now I get it. Now, I’m finally catching on. It’s not about the ‘words,’ or the ‘kisses’ — you’re unhappy about the sex thing. Isn’t that it? Okay! If we don’t have a wild affair in some Capri hotel, that’s not the end of our story! We are being two decent people, instead of being two sleazy people! Farfalla, I truly love you. Not some temporary Roman orgy kind, but the kind of love that lasts a lifetime! Am I getting closer yet?”

“You are getting closer to the ancient Romans.”

“That’s a start! The Italian language is built on top of Latin structures. All the roads, all the names of the towns... Am I supposed to speak to you in Latin, Farfalla? I know that
you
can speak Latin. Because I heard you do that.”

“What is wrong with you? I don’t speak any Latin!”

“You do speak Latin! I heard you quoting Latin poetry. It was Latin
something
. I heard that clear as day.”

“I don’t know one word of Latin!”

“You haven’t been listening to yourself. Look, you are defeating me here. How can I say what you want, if you don’t even know what you’re saying? I know it is very important that I tell, or declare, or admit, or demonstrate, whatever, the hell it is... this thing that I am supposed to say to you. I tried hard. I can’t do it. I’m sorry. I’m an ape, I’m a bear, I’m a brute, I’m a man and we never get it... Whisper it, okay? Whisper one hint in my ear.”

“You have to
feel
what you say to me. And
mean
it! Then you can
say it, and mean it, and I will believe it
. Then it won’t matter how sad we are.”

“All right. Now I see what you want,” he said at last. “I really have to abase myself for you. Is that it?
That is it.
I can’t bargain with you, or argue with you, or set any reasonable terms for our relationship. I’m not allowed to have one scrap of decency, or pride, or common sense. I have to be completely desperate with love for you. Just naked. Broken. I have to be abject.”

“Why are you doing this to me? You are making me crazy! Love is love!”

“Look, men have feelings too, okay? If I am
desperately
in love with you, we won’t
survive
! Not you, and not me either! Desperate love isn’t warm cuddles and sweet, girly pillow whispers! That kind of love is the gruesome situation of a man obsessed! I
will
get obsessed! I will stalk you! I’ll spy on you in fits of rage! I will come to your house! I will murder your boyfriend. I’ll set fire to your town. I will carry you off in the trunk of a car.”

“Oh, stop that! Stop lying about the future! You won’t do any of that. You’re too nice.”

“How do
you
know that? What if you are my
curse
? God only knows what’s becoming of me! I never felt like this before! I am on the brink of ruin! I could throw away everything I have, everything I own — and all because of
you
? Why? What am
I
supposed to get out of this? I do you this magic service you demand from me... I recite this magic spell, you go off happy as a queen... you have exactly what you want! What about
me?
I’m left with
nothing!”

“Then leave with nothing! Go away from me! I won’t stop you.”

“A
m I ‘the One’? Nobody ever told
me
that! Are
you
my ‘One’? Maybe you are, maybe you’re not! All I can see right now is some ticked-off Italian chick, who’s like a live hand grenade.”

“You don’t love me.”

“But I do love you! That’s the truth! I never talked to anybody like this in my whole life. I’m a quiet, calm, sensible guy! I don’t babble and rave like a lunatic! If I didn’t
love you
, you wouldn’t
be
my hand grenade! You’d just be, you know, some cute, pint-sized foreign chick at a tech conference. So what!”