Date: Sun, 07 Oct 2001 19:02:48 -0400
From: Tom Cup <tom_cup@hotmail.com>
Subject: Kevin - Series Chapter 16

The Lion of Bolognia -- Kevin Part 2 by Tom Cup

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This is a fictional story involving youth/youth or adult/youth sexual
relationships. If this type of material offends you, please do not read any
further. This material is intended for mature adult audiences. Names,
characters, locations and incidents are either the product of the author's
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locales, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
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This story is part of the Tom Cup Library

Please visit the member's area of the Tom Cup Library for Chapter 9 of The
Lion of Bolognia (Kevin Chapter 23); Chapter 27 of "Calvin"; Chapter 12 of
"Angel"; "David's Christmas Present" (Revised with new additions and
chapters by Tom Cup); Chapters 6 of "A Place Called Home"; Chapter 2 of  "In
Memory of Steve". Also available Tommy -- The Return -- Chapter 2, "Stephen
Miller's Journal" Chapter 1; "The Day My Life Began" and many more series
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The Lion of Bolognia
Chapter 2
Kevin
Chapter 16
By Tom Cup

It was late September and the trees were alive with color.  Marie spun in
her party dress; letting the joy of her dancing skirt, and bouncing hair,
infect everyone in the family with her exuberance.  She was finally sixteen.

Franco had move quickly up the ranks.  He was an efficient debt collect; a
capable administrator, treated the men under him fairly, but firmly, and he
covered his tracks well. It was no surprise when his son, Alfredo, asked the
Lion's permission to start seeing Marie formally. It was no surprise the
Lion gave his consent.  No one had bothered to ask Marie what she thought.

"How dare he!" she fumed to Tony, "He never asked me if I even wanted to go
out with him!  Neither of them did!"

"Calm down Marie," Tony said.

"Don't tell me to calm down!  I don't want to go out with him!"

"Why? He seems like a nice enough guy."

"Oh," Marie countered, "Just because you like his little brother, you don't
want me to make waves!  Well, to hell with you too!"

Her tone and expressions hit Tony like a bat being swing full force into his
gut.  He didn't want Marie to make waves.  He was afraid, if she did, it
would jeopardize his being able to see Vincent.  He loved Marie and that
made his crime even worst in his mind: he had put his relationship with
Vincent over the feelings of the one person in the world who he loved the
most.  Marie stood by him when his father had not.  Told him that she didn't
care if he liked boys; she would always love him; no matter what.  She
showed she meant it when he had cried all night, in her arms asking again,
and again, what he was going to do.  He hated admitting he was gay. He had
hated himself but she had shown nothing but love for him; and gradually he
came to love himself too.  By loving him, she taught him to love.

Marie ran as fast as she could with tears streaking her face.  She didn't
really know where she was running too, but she knew what she was running
from: a life of servitude.  She was determined not to be the quite,
obedient, housewife.  She wanted more: would have more.

"Women are joining the war effort, for crying out loud!" she thought to
herself, "and all the men around me think is; that we all should be cooking,
and cleaning and making babies!"

She stopped running, and paced in circles on the street corner, looking up
she knew immediately where she was and where she had been going.  Hyatt and
Regency Boulevards; two blocks from where Alfredo lived.  She clenched her
fist and stormed in the direction of his house to confront him.  She would
tell him he had no right asking her father if he could date her before
asking her if she even wanted to date him.  Half a block away she stopped.
They wouldn't be there of course.  They were all back at her house;
celebrating her birthday.

"What good would it do anyway?" she asked herself.

It was still 1942 no matter how she sliced it; and Alfredo was doing things
the way they were done.  She settled only one thing in her heart that day:
she would not be an ordinary woman.  It would infuriate her father;
frustrate her mother; and bewilder Marco; but in the end Tony would
understand.  At the thought of him, her heart sank. He was more sensitive
than the other men in her life and as she replayed in her mind what she had
said to him, and how she said it, she knew instinctively that she had hurt
him.

She walked briskly back to the house; avoiding being seen.  She followed the
old dirt path; winding among the yellows, reds, browns and oranges of the
autumn leaves, to the place she and Tony loved so much: had shared so much.
She did not realize that it wasn't him crying on the bench.  She spoke his
name and slowly Vincent turned.

They looked so much alike that they could have been brothers; should have
been brothers.  She always felt a closeness to him but now she realized it
wasn't because he and Tony were friends, or because he looked so much like
Tony, but because he had the same heart as Tony.

"What's wrong," she asked.

"He hates me."

"That's silly."

"He said he didn't want me to come over anymore," Vincent managed between
sobs, "What did I do?  What did I do?"

"Oh, Vincent," Marie said sitting beside him and wrapping her arm around
him, "He's not mad at you.  He's mad at me.  I'll take care of it.  I
promise."

He laid his head on her chest and wept openly; and just as with Tony, she
grew to love him more for his open sensitivity.  It was a different kind of
love, however; a love she had never felt before. She gentle stoked his back
and kissed his forehead, and his weeping lessened until it stopped; and he
looked up into her eyes.  They had kissed then, gently, as if the flavor of
each other was that of a cherished bottle of wine; waited for and nourished
over the years.  It was then that Marie realized why she was so angry with
her father for consenting to Alfredo: she had loved Vincent from the moment
they had met but avoided him for Tony's sake.

"No," she said pulling away, "I have hurt Tony more this day than I ever
thought I could."

"I'm sorry," Vincent replied, "I... I love him.  You know that don't you?
But I love you too. I'm crazy^Å I'm crazy! I know I am!"

"You're not crazy," Marie laughed, "You're just full of love."  Against all
better judgment she kissed him again and there was no turning back.

Tony lay in his darkened room convincing himself he was just there thinking;
what he was doing in reality was pouting.  There was no way around it in his
mind; he had to stop seeing Vincent.  The thought of ending their
relationship made his heart hurt as if it were being squeezed to the
breaking point.  His eyes swam in the salt water of his grief but he made up
his mind that this was the way it was going to be; for the family's sake;
for Marie's sake.  "I will never allow anything to come between us again,"
he pledged to himself, and with all his heart he meant it.

When the knock came to the door, Tony fully expected it to be Marie.  He
dried his eyes and sat up on the bed saying, "Come in."

"Hi, why are you in here all alone?" his mother asked.

"Oh, just thinking about things."

She closed the door and sat beside him, running her hand through his hair.

"What things?"

"About growing up, is all," Tony replied, "I just think it's time I grew
up."

She narrowed her eyes on him then and asked, "And how do you propose to grow
up?"

"I just think that, when you grow up, you have to give up the things that
made you a child.  That's all."

Julia knew what her son was telling her.  She also knew it would have been
wise to nod and leave the room.  But she could see the pain in his eyes, and
hear it in every word he spoke.  He would try to be, and possibly succeed in
being, everything his father wanted him to be.  She knew though, if he took
that path, he would never truly be happy.  And so, against all wisdom, she
decided to be unwise.

"Tony"

"Yes, mom."

"I want you to listen to me carefully."

Tony saw a look in his mother's eyes that he had never seen before.  He
wonder if it was the look she gave his father when his ranting had gone to
far and she retired to the bedroom with him hot on her heels.  Moments later
he would always leave the bedroom; silenced by some unknown force that none
of the kids could figure out.  They had wondered what she could have
possibly said to silence him so quickly, now he realized that, maybe, she
said nothing at all, maybe she just gave him the look she now had aimed at
Tony.  It was a look that said, to him, she was to be obeyed.

"Yes, ma'am."

"I know you are different.  Not like other boys."

"What do you mean?" he answered; startled by what his mother might be
suggesting.

"Come on, Antonio.  I gave birth to you. Do you really believe that you
could hide this from your own mother?"

Tony said nothing; only shook his head and stared at the floor in response.

"I do not know what you are thinking of doing Antonio but I will tell you
this; if you start living your life to please others, with no thought of
your own heart, you will not be happy."

"Everyone else will," Tony whispered.

"For a time they will. For they believe this is just a passing phase and
that you will, in the long run, be happy if you give it up.  But years from
now, they will see that you are still in misery and pain; and most will
curse themselves for convincing you to be someone you are not: those that
don't are not worth giving anything up for.  Antonio, I forbid you to be
what you are not."

It was a conversation that Tony would always remember.  It was a
conversation that changed his life.  She left him there, alone, in his
thoughts.  He spent most of the evening alone in his room repeating over and
over again his mother's last words to him: "I forbid you to be what you are
not."

Marie was the first to see him walking towards them as they sat together on
the bench.  Immediately Vincent became stiff and visibly shaken.  She took
his hand and smiled.  Tony sat beside him but neither looked at the other.

"Sorry," Tony whispered and Vincent started to cry.

Tony looked at Marie and she looked away.  It was then that Tony noticed
their entwined hands.  His mind went into a tailspin.  He and Vincent had
been lovers for three years. He never imagined that Vincent would be
interested in another guy, let alone a girl. It was too hard to imagine even
as it became clear in his mind that he was.  The look in Marie's eyes told
him. The look in his lover's eyes told him and yet he still could not
believe it.

They all sat together in silence.  Marie refused to let go of Vincent's hand
even though he tried to signal the release several times.

"Tony," Marie's voice was a soft song, "We love you.  We both do and Vincent
loves both of us."

"No!"  Tony screamed.  He did not want to say what he said next but he
couldn't help himself.  It hurt him that he could not refrain from hurting
the two people in the world he loved the most, but that was what he was
going to do.  He tried later to justify it in his mind, by convincing
himself that it was for the good of all, but he knew it was a lie.  He would
hurt them because he felt hurt.

"If you want him take him!  I don't want to see him again. Ever!"

"Please Tony," Vincent pleaded, "I love you."

"Love me?  You don't give a damn about me!  All you've been doing is using
me until you could get to my sister!"

"Tony!"  Marie screamed.

"It's not true," Vincent sobbed, "I love you.  I love her.  I knew you
wouldn't understand."

"You're fucking right I don't understand."

"Please Tony, Please," Vincent begged, "I can't live without you."

"Why are you being this way?" Marie asked, "I know you two are lovers and I
don't care.  Why should you care if he loves me too?  Why Tony?  If he left
with you right now, I would accept it and wait until he returned to me. But
you insist on all or nothing! I thought you were different.  But you are
just like papa and Marco, no different!  I love you Tony but I will not
forgive you if you continue with this."

"Then do not forgive me," Tony hissed, "Because I can't do this.  I can't."

He left them there with Vincent sobbing in Marie's arms.


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