Unspoken - 16. Pugni Agli Amici

Some people are born with such a natural talent it’s difficult not to be jealous. My father, Archie, seemed to just know how things were built, and could visualize the process. I’m certain this is why he made such a good contractor. My own gift was in reading, and being able to tell if an author was likely to be successful. I managed to convince my boss that gay fiction, both sexually explicit and non, was an untapped market, and to allow me to focus entirely on it. I’ve managed to get twelve new authors published with good sales numbers in the last five years alone. Sometimes I remained as their editor, sometimes not. Nicolo’s gift was accents. His native Florentine accent was still very thick day to day, but I couldn’t tell you if that was intentional on his part, or was still just natural. He could speak with a perfect Virginian accent, or Californian, Boston, even Russian, Slovakian, New Zealand, you name it. Hearing him speak Italian with a flawless Bavarian accent was a crackup. His gift made him an amazing voice actor, so he was perfect for animé dubbing, and I’m eternally grateful his production house took a huge chance on an unknown such as he. Bryce loves trying to guess which character he is in his shows. Bryce was graceful, his movements were exceptionally fluid and effortless. We discovered his natural grace due to a mixup at school.

The mixup began, as some situations do, with a phone call. Well, for Nicolo it was a phone call, for me it was a text: ‘La scuola ha chiamato. Bryce è stato coinvolto in una rissa.’

As I made my excuses to leave work early, my mind was jogging through possibilities and worry. Surely there wouldn’t be any serious injuries, as they didn’t send him off to a doctor or the hospital? I still worried that he was okay, though. What happened? Who started it? Could it have been Bryce? I knew in the back of my mind that it was possible he did, he wasn’t immune to emotional outbursts. The ‘DS Incident’ a couple months ago was evidence of that, but we hadn’t thought it would extend to violence. My pace was brisk as I made my way out of the building, towards my Miata. While the adoption process was continuing apace, sluggish though it was, I think we all knew that things wouldn’t really begin to settle until it was completed. For Bryce or us. It was only the third week of the school year, too. Another text from Nicolo grabbed my attention as I climbed in the car: ‘Bryce ha un occhio nero e qualche livido, ma nessun'altra ferita.’

I sent back a quick ‘thx omw eta 20 syt’ before starting up and gunning - inasmuch as a Miata can gun - out of the lot towards the school.

Traffic was minimal, so I pulled into the school’s visitor lot without any delays. I did pull into the farthest spot I could, to remove both the pistol and its holster from my belt, placing it and locking it in the glove box. Then I moved to a closer spot.

I was waved through, passed security without event, and was greeted warmly by the Vice Principal upon entering the administration office. Both the Principal and Vice had a generous waiting room outside their own offices, and I was guided to it, surprised to find I had to have been the last to arrive. Bryce sat looking absolutely dejected, slight bruises visible on his small arms, eyes downcast but black eye standing out, next to Nicolo, who managed to affect a look of polite disinterest. I could see in his eyes as he looked towards me that he was far from it, and his right arm across Bryce’s shoulders detracted from the effect of his look as well. There were two empty chairs on Bryce’s right, and then sitting between two adults, a man and woman, were two boys who looked the same age as Bryce, and appeared to be nearly identical. One had a large bruise on his cheek, and some small scattered ones on his arms, the other looked unharmed. They also looked up at my arrival, and they all got a bit wide-eyed at the sight of me. Such is my life. As I sat down next to Bryce, the Vice Principal, name of Allison, whom we are certain knows details of our circumstances even if we’d only met the once, spoke. “You can see the others are here. We’re just waiting on the ASL interpreter so you can participate. The meeting will begin as soon as he arrives.” She stepped back, before walking back to her office. Shortly after the door closed, the two other parents of the almost-identical boys looked over, and the father -on our side of the two boys - spoke.

“I’m sorry, we thought we were waiting on Mrs Alex Bucello, so why is Bryce’s older brother here; is he deaf?”

The question was not spoken unkindly, but there was an…edge of confusion to it. I sighed inwardly, and started reaching for my wallet to pull out my ID. Nicolo spoke up as he usually does in these cases. People are commonly more courteous though but there was also an edge to his voice, as has been happening lately. “Alex is not Bryce’s brother, he is my husband and he is 32. He is not deaf, mezza sega, he is mute.” I turned and signed ‘That was unnecessary’ to him as a “No, he can’t be 32!” escaped the mother. I turned back and handed over my ID to the father, and he confirmed it for his wife before handing it back. They were shocked, as everyone always is. The next question was unexpected, because most people usually follow up with “what” and “how,” but instead the father spoke “What does mezz-“

He was completely cut off by the son with bruises leaning forward, and looking wide-eyed at Bryce.

“You have two dads?!” He asked, a high pitch to his voice. Bryce nodded in response, a meek “yeah, they’re awesome” somehow making it’s way past his drooped face.

“So that’s why…” the other boy spoke again, and got a nod from Bryce. The almost-twins stared at each-other for a second or two before they both began to giggle.

”Boys, this is no time to laugh,” their mother admonished.

“Mom,” the bruised one spoke, “it totally is,” with vehement nods from the unbruised one. “We-“

The cutting off seemed to be a common thing for the moment, as the door opened admitting a mid-20’s man, Johnathan, the ASL interpreter staffed by the school district for occasions such as this. They had an ASL class for each school, but as ASL wasn’t commonly needed outside of class during class time, they only had one interpreter for administrative purposes. He was quite helpful when we were getting Bryce enrolled, so we were acquainted.

”Ah, Misters Bucello, good to see you again.” We three shook hands as we stood.

“Johnathan Shrike, I’m the ASL interpreter for the district.” He introduced himself to the two parents.

“I’m Dave Elliot, and this is my wife, Clara,” They shook hands as well, “and these are Justin and James, our sons.” They shook as well. Then Dave turned to us.

“I’m sorry, with the confusion we forgot to introduce ourselves.” Personally I just wanted the hand shaking to be over, but Nicolo and Dave insisted on it, so the four of us shook hands as well.

“Well,” Johnathan clapped his hands, “Principal Mackey is waiting, so shall we?”

He motioned towards the office, and led the way in, pertly knocking twice before opening the door without delay. Everyone strolled in, shook Principal Eric Mackey’s hand, and took seats in front of the desk.

“Now, we know that the Misters Bucello are capable of their own translation, but I’ve asked Johnathan here,” he nodded at Johnathan, who was now standing to the side of the desk, “out of convenience, so Mr. Nicolo does not need to split his attention. Johnathan will only speak to serve as a voice for Alex.”

We all nodded.

“We’re here because there has been a fight. It didn’t take long to ascertain the cause or the motivations, so in lieu of hearing the two sides from Bryce, and Justin and James, I think it would be easier if I explain what happened. Should make it easier to understand as a cohesive whole. If there are any disagreements from the boys, they can clarify afterwards. Are we agreed?”

We all nodded again.

“Very well. I must stress that personal information will be revealed here, and it is imperative that it not be shared without expressed permission. It must stay personal and private.” He sat back, clearing his throat before beginning his explanation.

“Between their second and third period, Justin and James were in the hall discussing the latest ballet that James’ ballet class has been practicing. Justin plays soccer, and they commonly rib each-other over their extracurricular choices, but Justin, being heterosexual, and James being homosexual, sometimes drift into words commonly taken as bigoted. James commonly calls Justin ‘dirty breeder’ and Justin commonly calls James ‘queer’ and ‘fag.’ These are harmless between the two brothers, but in this instance Bryce overheard Justin using ‘fag’ to his brother. Because of his history, and his exceptional love for his foster-fathers, Bryce, unknowing of the context, leapt to James’ defense, swiftly punching Justin across the jaw. Justin immediately began to fight back, and a short fight ensued that was ended as quickly as it began. It lasted maybe a minute at the very most, before they were pulled apart by peers and teachers. While bruising occurred, there’s no evidence of broken or fractured bones. Do I have everything correct so far, boys?” All three boys nodded, sheepishly. “Good,” he continued, “there were sufficient witnesses to preclude any questions of motive, and this helps. Nobody needs to be dishonest or lie here, which is rare when small schoolyard scuffles happen. As I understand it,” he sat back up, leaning forward over the desk to give more direct attention, “James is ‘out’ but doesn’t ‘advertise,’ meaning there’s no evidence, such as slogans or symbols on his clothing or backpack, that he is gay. You two need to understand that while between the two of you these words are harmless, this is not always the case even for those who may hear you using them towards the other, even if you never use them towards anyone else yes what is it Mr Nicolo?” The jump of tone and timbre was quick and jarring for all of us. I turned to see Nicolo with his hands pressed against his face, head tilted back.

“Mi scusi” he mumbled through his hands, before lowering them down. “It is only that in certain contexts calling someone ‘faggot’ in Italia is an arrestable offense. Using it as a pet name is incomprehensible to me. I have lived in America for decennio and the cultural differences still take me by surprise sometimes. Mi dispiace, please, continue.”

“Not a problem Mr Nicolo. Well, boys?” He turned back to Justin and James, “you understand? You cannot use such terms in this school, no matter how innocently you mean them.”

They nodded, echoing “We’re sorry.”

Principal Mackey nodded, smiling, “good.” He then turned to Bryce, and a frown returned. “Bryce. I understand that things are not easy for you, but we cannot allow your past to be an excuse for violence like this. Do you understand?” Bryce nodded, and started quivering in expectation of punishment. I put a hand on his shoulder, and I looked over him to Nicolo, who did the same on his other side.
“Our school district has a zero-tolerance policy for starting fights. However under these circumstances and because of them, I will not enforce it. I can see how distressed you are over this, and I believe that such a thing will never happen again. Am I wrong?”

“N-no s-sir.” Bryce stuttered as he shook his head. “I-I’m s-sorry s-sir.”

Principal Mackey nodded. “Good. There will be no punishment. This has been a misunderstanding, and there was no offense intended by anyone. Bryce thought he was defending someone, and Justin was only defending himself. No lasting wrong has happened, so I don’t see the need to jeopardize anyone’s future here with file notations, not over this. Does anyone have any questions?”

No one spoke for a moment, and my hands lifted so I could.

“This is surreal,” Johnathan’s voice cut in, “this seems like a scene from a movie or a television show.” This garnered a hesitant laugh from everyone, Little Bryce included. The two boys hopped up from their seats, quicker on the rebound than Bryce, and stood in front of him.

“Hey Bryce,” Justin spoke first, “We’re sorry,” James finished. “Are you okay?” They both asked at the same time.”

Bryce nodded, running a hand across his dripping nose. “Uh-huh. I’m sorry I punched you Justin. Are you okay?”

Justin waved off his concern, “Oh yeah I’m fine I get hit worse during soccer. Jamie over here,” he threw an arm across his brother’s shoulder, “gets hurt even worse doing barre and ballet. It’s brutal.”

I swear my brain must have hit a pause button, because I just couldn’t do or say anything for the wonder of what was happening right here. I glanced at Nicolo and he was smiling proudly at Bryce. A turn of the head showed smiles on everyone else’s faces too. We’re they literally starting a friendship here?

“My p-parent’s always took me to ballet shows, to show off as a family, but if I showed interest they’d hit me for it when we got home. They said it was for pansy boys. I’ve always wanted to do ballet. It looks so smooth and calm and complex at the same time. It’s amazing.”

What. The. Fuck. My mouth dropped open in wonder and confusion. I simply couldn’t believe this. Bryce, the same kid from The DS Incident, quiet and shy and so eager to please but reserved at the same time, was opening up to complete strangers.

“Mi stai prendendo per il culo.” Nicolo stage-whispered, pinching his nose, before speaking again. “Bryce?”

“Yes papà?” Bryce looked up at him.

“Maybe you and Justin and James can trade phone numbers. See if there are any openings in James’ ballet class, now that you three are amici. Is that okay with you, Dave? Clara?”

“That would be perfectly fine, Nicolo.” Clara answered.
All three boys were now smiling widely.

“Well, I can see I was right not to worry.” Principal Mackey piped up. “Boys, you can grab your backpacks and return to classes. Wait until breaks or after school to chat more, though, yes?”

“Okay!” Three young voices chorused, and already chattering excitedly they exited the office forthwith. Damn but boys were resilient. Would wonders never cease?

“Before we break up this conclave, I have another few thoughts.”

“That’s fine Principal Mackey, though I think we’re all rather satisfied with how things turned out,” Dave said. No one disagreed.

“Thank you. I have to admit doing this in this fashion, handling the aftermath of a fight, is not generally done this way. Normally we handle the parents and children of both sides separately. I’m ecstatic it worked, but given the events I had a feeling it would. Nicolo, Alex; I’m told, and this would definitely be a topic to discuss with his therapist, that martial arts often does wonders for emotional stability and peace of mind. Nothing in his file or our discussions had hinted that violence could occur, so I was speaking honestly when I said I believed it wouldn’t happen again. Clara? Dave? This is my first run-in with your boys directly, but I’m sure you’ve also heard from their teachers that they’re exceptionally energetic. If it’s agreeable, martial arts could be a positive outlet for them as well. Might help with calming them down.” We all glanced each-other’s way. “I’ll talk to Coach Calhoun and see if he has any thoughts about a discipline that would mesh well with both ballet and soccer and the boys’ needs, and be in contact with the four of you. Agreed?”

I nodded, the other three spoke their agreement, and the small meeting broke up from there with more handshakes and promises to be in contact through the boys as well.

Nicolo and I walked to the parking lot together, and stopped by his Cherokee, which was closer than my Miata.

“Non era questo che mi aspettavo.”

I nodded. ‘No shit. Bryce amazes me.’

“Saranno amici per anni.” Nicolo shook his head as if to clear it, still somewhat dazed by the events of the past half hour. As was I. “Non si aspettano il ritorno.”

‘Same. I think we both could use a half-day.’

“Ci vediamo a casa?”

I nodded.

“Un film?”

I nodded again.

“Ti amo, midge.” He kissed the top of my head. I kicked at his shin.

We both left. Hell of a day, and it wasn’t even noon. It also wasn’t over. We still had to talk to Bryce.

We both arrived home at about the same time. Needing to retrieve the pistol and holster from my glove box delayed me a moment, but only just. We didn’t converse as we moved around the living room and kitchen. I brewed Nicolo a caffélatte, pouring a glass of milk for myself, and he set up the bluray player, and selected a movie. As the menus, warnings, and disclaimers were bypassed, we sipped at our beverages, finishing them only just as the movie itself began. Nicolo deftly but gently pulled me over and onto our sides on the couch, spooning us together. The movie he’d chosen was La Dolce Vita, both a classic in Italian cinema, and internationally too. One of the best movies I’ve ever seen (do NOT get Nicolo started on The Godfather, ever) the first time we watched it we used subtitles and there was much pausing to explain cultural references. That was near of eight years ago. I didn’t need subtitles detracting from watching anymore, but I pulled out my phone, he could easily see the screen cuddled up to my back, so we could converse while the movie played. We never had the chance to really cuddle and relax like this recently what with Bryce, and that was okay, but it was something we both missed, I think.

[my nico] I tapped out in the notes app, [you know i love it when you rush to defend my honor but you need to stop reacting with hostility when meeting new people…] The ellipsis indicated I wasn’t done, and he acknowledged that with a squeeze around my chest where his arms were wrapped. [you werent like this before it only started within like the last year what gives?]

He kissed the back of my neck, and whispered in my ear, gently, reluctantly, “Sono stufa che la gente sia scortese con te per il tuo aspetto.”

I sighed. I felt the same for him. It wasn’t uncommon for people to think he was a pedophile, and it always upset him.

[yeah but being rude right back at them doesnt stop the next person that wants to be rude. it’s sweet that you get your hackles up at people but it doesnt help…] He squeezed me again. [just let them be rude i dont let it affect me and neither should you ok?]

“Molto bene. Farò come mi ha chiesto. Ti amo, Alex.”

[i love you too Nico ❤️]

He kissed my neck and nuzzled it. For the last half-decade he hasn’t needed to speak English inside the house outside of business calls, so it was impressive that he managed to minimize it in front of Bryce so well. There was only one more thing I wanted to discuss before we tried napping through the movie.

[youll have to explain to bryce]

“Lo so, nessun problema.”

I sighed deep. We knew things like this would happen, that Nicolo would have to do most of the communication at first, but sometimes it-

“Alex? Qual è problema?”

[nothing] I shook my head. Not sure what brought on maudlin thoughts, but I didn’t want to ruin my still-overall good mood, so I pushed them out of my head. Flicking my fingers across the phone to set alarms for twelve thirty and one, I placed the phone on the coffee table, and reached down to pull one of Nicolo’s hands up to give it a kiss. He squeezed me tight again, and we focused on the movie. As I started to doze, I could just barely feel Nicolo’s breathing change too.

We were both woken quickly by the blaring alarms, but we remained reclined and relaxed until it got closer to the time to go pick him up. Then we stretched our relaxed bodies as we sat upright, finally standing. Nicolo let out a deep rumbling yawn as if to compensate for my silent one, and he leaned over to give me a kiss.

“Oggi vado a prendere Bryce. Possiamo parlare durante il viaggio di ritorno.”

I nodded in agreement. Nicolo usually got home a bit later than I usually returned with Bryce. Eventually he’d be riding the bus, but we still wanted to give him the comfort of our presence. I think we’d both be lying if we claimed that we didn’t enjoy the novelty.

‘I’ll see what we can do for dinner.’

I turned off the tv and player, shuffling into the kitchen as Nicolo toed on his shoes and headed out to the garage. Looking through the fridge, as I could hear the garage door open and his Cherokee start up, I noted that having more than an extra hour to prep if I needed it, maybe do a crock-pot stew? Did we have a…yes, we did have a rump roast I could cut up for it. Decision made, I pulled out the other ingredients, and started cutting up the veggies and meat, taking a second to turn on the radio so I could do my customary dance-cooking.

The school was closer to our house than to either of our workplaces, so Nicolo returned with Bryce just as I was adding the water into the crock pot, the final ingredient, before lidding it and turning it on. A quick glance as the door to the garage opened showed Bryce and Nicolo toeing off their shoes, and Bryce dropped his backpack by the couch as he made his way to me. Just as I turned from flicking off the radio to face him he pulled me into a hug, mumbling at me “I’m sorry about the fight dad.” I hugged him back, and gave him a kiss on the cheek. He smiled at me, and turned to grab his backpack, heading to the stairs. “I’m going to go do my homework.” He paused just before disappearing from sight. “Can we go over some sign today dad? I think I’ve got the alphabet down.” I nodded, and he scampered off.

Nicolo approached, bending to give me a kiss. “Abbiamo parlato. Lui ha capito,” he said, “Dice che nella classe di danza di Jamie ci sono posti liberi.”

I raised an eyebrow.

He shrugged, smiling “Amici per anni. Jus e Jamie ora.”

‘Dinner at 6.’ I signed while snickering.

“Bryce è impegnato.” He put a finger to my chest, dragging down before palming my groin. “Come passare il tempo?” he leered. I leered back. A quickie wouldn’t go amiss. Bryce’s homework usually took at least an hour. Easily enough time to fuck and shower. I groped him back, before dancing off towards the stairs myself. Dishes could wait.

After our bout of fun, we both sat on the couch, and I was plastered to Nicolo’s side. He was staring off into space, absently flicking my wolf’s tail, as I scrolled through information on my phone. Principal Mackey had forwarded an email from Coach Calhoun. The man recommended researching Judo, which according to Calhoun focused more on dodging, grappling, and throws, over striking. If Bryce was truly interested in ballet, it seemed to us that Judo would mesh well after all.

I tapped Nicolo, and he looked down, still flicking at my hair. ‘If he follows through with ballet we’ll get him into Judo.’
“Si, si.” He breathed, before going back to gazing at nothing. I huffed, having expected more than just an acknowledgement. Whatever, today was just an odd day after all.

Just before four, Bryce bounded into the living room, tromping over to us.
“Homework is done. Can we do sign now?”

Nicolo reached over and yanked the boy, laughing, into his lap as I pushed myself away, to give space. We turned slightly on the long couch to face each-other, and as for each of these lessons, Nicolo spoke what I signed for Bryce’s benefit.

‘Start with the alphabet. Sign A to Z for me.’

He did so, at first slowly and deliberately, but faster as he went down, perfectly, to Z.

‘Now Z to A.’

Same effect. Started slow, and sped up. Still perfect. He’d been doing the alphabet almost perfect for two weeks now, so I wasn’t surprised.

‘Now tell me what letter I’m making.’ He nodded, showing he was ready, and I started slower, same as he, but sped up as the time ticked by, him speaking instead of Nicolo.

‘ A F G N E T J K B D R W Z U I L S D Q P Y’ and he followed every letter, so I decided to see if he could pick up more, and my hands moved faster ‘Y O U A R E G E T T I N G V E R Y G O O D A T T H E A L P H A B E T B R Y C E.’ I stopped.

His eyes widened above a big smile. “I am?!”

‘Yes, you learn very good. Repeat back to me.’

He did, mimicking what I signed, while speaking the words as he signed them. I was done quizzing him on the alphabet, he was clearly fluent in it. So we would then move to words. We would try teaching him ten to twenty a day, and if he was able to keep up and remember them, we could increase that. I signed to him, and Nicolo spoke,

‘You choose words. I teach. Keep list. Regular test. Twenty a day. Ok.’

He was happy about that, and ran off to get a blank notebook. We agreed to keep it on the coffee table for convenience. He scratched a few words in it for tomorrow, then dropped it on the table. Sign lesson over, Nicolo decided it was his turn with Bryce.

“So, piccolo, tell us what Jamie told you about ballet?”

Holy shit did the floodgates open, his legs kicking absently. I stood up to leave them to it, planning to get a beverage for each of us as he spoke.

“Well Jamie said his class has open spots so he’ll ask the ballet master if I can join and he’d call me when he knows and that even though I’d be new it would be okay and barre means the metal bar against the mirror wall thing but a barre class means an exercise class for ballet and that it helped alot so I should do that too and I don’t even care about wearing tights and did you know a boy ballet dancer is called a danseur? and he says you really have to be strong and I know you work out at a gym papà but maybe Dad could do barre class with me I’d really like that? cause then we could help each-other out and dance together at home because he dances alot when he cooks and we could help stretch because you have to be flexible and practice alot and I don’t think I’m that flexible or strong yet and maybe we could use one of the extra bedrooms as a dance room? and they actually live pretty close like a five minute walk so maybe we could hang out and I can’t wait I’m really excited and what does ‘met-suh-say-gah’ mean papà?”

I was halfway back to the couch, and luckily I had just swallowed, or else I would have spat out my soda. I managed to hand over Bryce’s own rare diet soda to a “thanks dad” and Nicolo’s own can to him, as he sputtered for a moment. I sat and sipped at my soda, slurping at the can and making eyes at Nicolo. It was his fault for using the slang in front of him. I was curious as to how he would explain. We’ve committed to not lying to Bryce, or holding back information. Outside of details of sexual activities, of course.

“Well,” he began before trailing off, coughing, taking a sip, and starting again. “Mezza,” he pronounced it slower and more deliberately, “sega, you have to stress the E, pulling it out a little, means ‘half saw,’ but it is Maltese Italian slang for something else.”

Bryce sipped at his soda too. “Mezza sega?”

Nicolo snickered through an “mhmm.”

“What’s it slang for?”

Nicolo meant to head him off with pronunciation, but it didn’t distract him. I put my soda down, and pulled Bryce’s and Nicolo’s out of their hands as well. I knew this was going to make us laugh, and I didn’t want anything spilling.

“Well, it’s slang for ‘unfinished wank.’”

“Wank? Like jacking off?”

I fucking lost it. I was heaving in silent laughter, and Nicolo laughed too at hearing Bryce be so blunt.

“Ye-he-he-hes” he tried to continue speaking as he laughed. Bryce just looked totally confused.

“When you call someone a mezza sega, you are saying that they are someone who starts things but never finishes. It really isn’t a nice thing to call someone, and I don’t want to hear you using it, okay?”

“Ooooookay?” Bryce was still confused. I don’t think he really understood how it expressed, but he shrugged, leant forward to pick up his can of soda, and started babbling about what Jamie told him about ballet again.

I connected mirthful eyes with Nicolo, and gave him a slight nod. It was obvious Bryce would be doing ballet, and if he wanted me to join him for barre class I would without question. It would do me good to get more exercise than my dance-cooking and the uncommon swim.

It certainly has been one hell of a day.