Unspoken - 26. Bryce a Firenze, Parte Tre

 
Heraldry is a language unto itself, and every detail on a coat of arms means a very specific thing. The only English literature on the subject worth reading is The Art of Heraldry, bu Sir Arthur Charles Fox-Davies. I have borrowed my own Stemma di Famiglia for The Bucello. Our name is also some 700-800 years old. 

“Felice natale, piccolo amore!”

The voice woke me up, but it wasn’t loud enough to startle me awake. I blinked my eyes to see papà and dad leaning over me.

“Che-che cosa?” I yawned, more comfortable with Italiano because of the last few days, and stretched my arms above my head, before shoving them back under the warm blanket. The air outside my bed seemed a bit chilly, and I was cosy right where I was.

“È Natale, Bryce, svegliateli.” Papà said. I shook my head.

“No papà, sono caldo,” I said, closing my eyes to fall back asleep.

They wouldn’t let me sleep though. Papà was laughing as they tore the comforter off me, and threw it to the floor.

I whined out a “noooooooo, è freddo!” wrapped my arms around myself and started shivering at the chill.

“Un abbraccio caldo!” Papà called, and he leant over and heaved me up, clutching me to his chest. I wrapped my arms over his shoulders, my legs around his middle, and laid my head on him.

“Ahhhhhhh, sei caldo.” And he was. Papà was always warm. Dad said once that sometimes he was a furnace in bed. All I know is that he was always warm. His bare skin against my bare skin was both comforting and just… warm. He made to carry me out of the room, and I clutched myself to him, peeking over his shoulder to see dad closing the bedroom door behind us, and following us, I guessed toward the dining room. I know I was starting to get too old to be carried, but papà was so big and it was just so nice. I yawned wide again, blinking my still sleepy eyes, and saw dad watching me.

‘Sleep ok’ he signed, cocking his head to the side.

“Sì, I answered. “Solo stanco.”

‘Ok.’

Then the rest of the journey to the dining room was in silence. Just the comfort of bare skin and papà carrying me was so calming that I started to doze off.

I woke up again, still being carried, as papà stroked my hair, whispering ‘piccolo, piccolo’ in my ear.

I blinked a couple times, and yawned again. “Sì, papa?”

“Siamo qui” he whispered again. I blinked a couple more times, and lifted my head, turning a bit to look behind me. La famiglia was gathered on one side of the dining room, and when they saw me look, they all called out together.

“Felice Primo Natale, Bryce!”

THAT woke me up a bit. I called back “Felice Natale, tutti!” and then as my eyes cleared more, I realized that everyone was in either red or green underwear! I looked back to papà wide-eyed, and glanced down, to see he was wearing a red jock, and a quick glance showed dad wearing a green jock! My briefs were black!! I was suddenly wide awake!

“Papà,” I asked, nervously, “perché rosse e verde?”

“Ah, sì,” he said. “On Natale we all wear either red or green underwear. We do not know who started il tradizione, but it has been so for at least thirty years.”

“Papà!” I squirmed in his grip, going back to English too, “let me down I need to go change I’m wearing black!”

He leaned down to let me get my feet under me, saying “Davvero, Bryce, è ok.”

“NO IT’S NOT!” I called as I ran out of the dining room, easily remembering the way back to Zio Luca’s room. The door slammed open as I rushed in, and I threw open the underwear drawer and pulled everything out of it. I dumped it all on the bed, and started searching for the red briefs I know I brought. They were Puma and they were one of my favorite pairs. So comfy. I tossed underwear everywhere but found them quick, and shucked my black briefs, tossing them carelessly over my shoulder, pulling on the red Pumas. I ran back out the door, hearing it close behind me as I raced back to the dining room. When I re-entered, huffing deep breaths, everyone was seated, but I saw there was a gap between dad and papà. I joined them quick, to see dad laughing. Papà spoke before dad could sign anything.

“Va meglio?”

“Sì papa. Ora meglio.”

“Davvero Bryce, è ok.”

“No papà! Tradizioni è molto importante!” I caught Zio Luca and Zio Santino cracking up at me across the table, and I huffed at them, sticking my tongue out. It only made them laugh more though.

Dad tapped me on the shoulder, and rolled his eyes at me, ‘eat B,’ he signed.

“Veeeeeeroooooo,” I sighed, and started reaching for dishes to fill my plate.

Breakfast was tasty as always, and dad had his arm across my shoulder as we headed back to the bedrooms. Papà opened the door to mine, saw my underwear all over the room, and exclaimed “MADONNA, È UNA BOMBA DI SLIP!”

Dad led me in behind papà, and he collapsed into silent laughter. I could only blush. My briefs were everywhere. Papà turned to me, giving me A Look. I just gave him A Look back. I repeated what I said earlier. “Tradizioni è molto importante.” He smiled, and started to laugh as he went to the closet, and pulled out the formal suit we’d brought for Natale in la chiesa.

Papà lay it on the bed, and then bent down and threw dad across his shoulder, laughing. “Take your time,” he said as he carried dad out the door, dad’s fists beating on his back. “We don’t leave for an hour.”

I saw dad shudder and go limp right before the door closed, I think I saw papà’s hand rubbing his bum. I rolled my eyes, knowing they were going to have sex again. They were always having sex.

I showered, shaved, and got dressed, and was careful when I sat back down on the bed. I didn’t want to wrinkle my suit. Papà told me we’d be going to Mass at Il Duomo di Firenze. He said it’s name was Il Cattedrale di Santa Maria del Fiore. He said he’s understand that I wouldn’t participate in most of Mass, as we’d, meaning the three of us, had never been to one before. Dad would stay seated with me throughout the service. Next year I should know enough Italiano to participate, he also said.

In the car ride, I asked him why we’d never gone to church.

“Ah Bryce. I am Roman Catholic. Alex is atheist. It is unusual, but not overly so. I have not found a church near us that I wish to join, so I attend Mass here in Firenze virtually. As we are five hours behind, I manage to catch third mass before you wake up on Sundays. Capito?”

I nodded.

“We both agreed that we would not bring up religion until you did. Religion is an intensely personal choice and belief set. It is important for you to find your own path, your own beliefs. If you choose a religion, your belief in God is between you and he.”

He paused a moment before considering.

“If you wish, I will wake you on Sundays to join me.”

I nodded again. “I don’t know yet, papà, but I’ll remember that.”

Dad pulled me against him, and kissed my temple.

“Dad?” I asked, “if you’re atheist why come to Mass?”

He smiled a wide toothy grin at me, and used my own words against me. ‘Tradition important’ he signed, ‘small sacrifice give family happy.’ He paused before poking me in the chest. ‘You understand.’ I nodded. I did understand.

When we arrived at the cathedral, well, the nearest parking lot to the cathedral, I stuck close to dad, who almost always stuck close to papà in public. We met other Bucello, and joined together as we approached. There was a crowd outside the cathedral, and we passed by them quickly. I knew that not everyone who would want to attend could, there’s no way everyone in the city could fit inside! But I knew the Bucello were noble, I think Bisnonno Giuseppe’s official title was Marchese or Duca.

The inside was huge! A massive space, and there was art and design everywhere. I must have paused with my looking around, because I felt dad take my hand in his and tug me forward. I didn’t stumble, but with him guiding I was able to look around at how beautiful it was. As we made our way up what papà called the ‘nave,’ we met up with Lucio, Vincento, Bartolomeo, and their children. We’d seen them at breakfast, but we all exchanged hugs and greetings anyway, before taking our seats in the pews, in the front rows.

It wasn’t super long before the Mass started, and I paid attention as best I could. I knew alot of the words, but the process of the service itself was strange to me, so I did what dad and papà told me to do. Not to worry, just stay seated with dad. Papà mentioned that the Archbishop would lead the service. He looked younger than I expected.

He took a podium, and I caught the name Gesù Cristo. He seemed to be talking about his life, and of love of fellow man. I felt… something, and closed my eyes for a moment, feeling like… I should pray or something. So I did.

God, I don’t know if you’re real like papà says, or if you’re not, like dad thinks. I want to believe that people are good. I want to believe that if you’re real, then you’re about love, and caring, and taking care of people who need help, and being nice and everything. If you’re real, I want to say thank you for helping me get away from my birth parents. I want to say thank you for helping dad and papà find me and take me in. I’m so happy with them. They take care of me. They take care of each-other. I love them so much and I know they love me so much.

I trailed off, and I just kept my eyes closed. I felt…something. I don’t know if it was the church, or the music, or God, or what. But it felt nice. I opened my eyes, and saw dad looking at me. He raised an eyebrow. I smiled, and signed ‘I ok’ to him. I didn’t want to interrupt Mass. Looking around more, everyone else was standing and singing. It was… haunting was the only word. Neither dad nor papà had ever played music that was especially religious; I could only think of a couple songs that had come on the radio or playlist that were about God.

The service eventually ended, and we made our way slowly out and back to the car. It wasn’t what I expected, and I’m not sure it was something I’d want to do. I’m not sure I’d really understand Mass until I achieved what papà called “unconscious fluency.” It was okay though, cuz he thought I was making great progress.

We arrived back at the palazzo as several other cars, and we greeted and hugged and waved to each-other as we headed inside and to our rooms.

Papà followed me into mine while dad went into theirs. Dad helped me out of the suit, hanging it back up, it was comfortable, but felt a bit stuffy and formal. I didn’t dislike it, but I didn’t like it either. He helped me get the ‘bomba di slip’ under control, getting the clean briefs back into the drawer. He dangled the red Pumas in front me, and I took that to mean I would change back into them, which I did. He sat me on the bed, and sat next to me, throwing an arm across my shoulder.

“Dinner is at six, after which we go caroling, but before that is the Natale per Famiglia. You remember what we explained, sì?”

I nodded to him. “We do gift exchanging for immediate family only, because the family is so big, right?”

“È vero.”

“So what are we doing, then?”

“Well, we also do what is called a Babbo Segreto. Each person picks a slip of paper with a family member’s name on it, before leaving. They get that person a gift for the next year. The exchange is what we are about to join. Several others have asked permission to buy you gifts. We have given it, so you will be getting gifts. Capito?”

“Sì papà. Will you help me pick a gift for whoever I get?”

“Assolutamente. We will.”

“Aren’t you and dad going to change?”

“Sì piccolo, but there is one last thing. Nonno Giuseppe has asked to guide you to the Camera della Famiglia for the exchange. He wishes to talk with you as you walk. We gave permission for this too.”

“Okay!” I chirped. I like Bisnonno Giuseppe. He always gives me hugs and always asked me how I was doing during the video calls. He kissed the top of my head. “He will be here shortly. We will see you in La Camera, okay?”

“Okay papà,” I hugged him. “Ti amo.”

“Ti amo anch’io, Bryce.” He kissed the top of my head again, and stood to leave the room. I slid back to sit against the headboard, and grabbed my phone off the nightstand. Flicking open Twitter, I was curious about responses from yesterday’s tweets. By the time we got home from the orphanages and then had dinner I was really tired, so I didn’t look at twitter. I just read some more of one of the books dad had insisted I pack, The Light Fantastic by Terry Pratchett. I was only about a quarter of the way through and I was loving it. It was so funny. I’d read the first one, The Colour of Magic on the flight. That one was funny too. I never imagined a book could make me laugh more than a movie or a tv show!

Before I could even really load my noties, there was a knock on the door, so I locked the phone and put it back on the nightstand, and called out “Entrare!”

Bisnonno opened the door. He was much much older than I was, with grey hair, fancy glasses, and he sometimes used a cane, because of his knees I think. He didn’t have it right now.

“Ah, Bryce. Are you ready?”

“Sì, Bisnonno.”

“Come, give this old man a hug before we go.”

I walked over to him, noticing that his underwear was green with red candy canes on it, which made me giggle as he pulled me against him. When we pulled back, he guided me to the door with a hand on my shoulder, closing it behind us.

“We must walk slow, I am an old man, after all.”

“Naw, you can’t be that old Bisnonno.”

“But yes, I am. Walk with me. We’ll take the long way. There are several things I want to explain. I will do so in English so there’s no miscommunication.

“Okay, Bisnonno.”

“Good. First. Have you heard of The Pazzi Conspiracy?”

“I think papà mentioned it, I think. Something about an attempted assassination?”

“Yes, very good. In 1478, in broad daylight a conspiracy attempted to assassinate Lorenzo de’Medici. At the time he was effectively the ruler of Firenze. Lorenzo’s brother was killed in the attack, and Lorenzo would have been killed as well, except for the intervention of a bystander, a common farmer named Mario Bucello.”

“Bucello?” I asked. “Our Bucello?”

“Sì! Mario was the head of the small family, who owned farmland, and whose house stood on this very spot. He saw an attack happening, and despite having no training, jumped in to assist, feeling that he could not stand by and watch people be murdered. I am… shamed, I admit, by my reactions and the views I expressed to our Alex the first time we met, because I grew up with the knowledge that but for the bravery and courage of Mario Bucello, we would likely be farmers still.”

He stopped walking, and turned to give me a sad smile.

“I love our Alex, and I like him a great deal more than I think he believes. He has challenged me to better myself and to evaluate my own views more often than I have in the past, despite him being 50 years younger than I. I fear he does not like me as I do him. He is… very dear to me and to all of us. He embodies what it is to be Bucello far more than most of us. When Lorenzo told him of the short ceremony I had planned to welcome you to the family, he was enraged. He video-called me immediately. He thought it was a challenge, and despite my attempts to explain that was not the case, I could not clarify it enough. You recall the virtues our family listed?”

I scrunched my eyes, thinking hard. “It was… love, loyalty, courage, and strength, right?”

“Indeed. The Bucello prize family above all others. Loyalty to the family above all others. The love for family and the love for others. The courage to stand up in the face of fear. The strength to fight for what you believe in. These are the qualities that we prize. You have these qualities in you, and all Bucello you’ve talked to in our video calls have been able to see that. That is what that small ceremony was about. To show you had the support and love of family, to honor your courage to stand up and admit you were abused and not be ashamed, and your strength in character to move past it and heal. Bryce.” He locked eyes with me. “You are Bucello. You are family, and you always will be. Come, give me a hug, pronipote.” He knelt, and I threw my arms around him. He kissed my cheek, and he let go.

“Now, let us continue our walk. Back to 1478. Lorenzo was injured in the attack, but he did survive. He was exceptionally grateful to Mario, and showed it in multiple ways. He gave his friendship. He gave funds. He gave, and this is the most important, a place in his bank. He taught Mario banking and finance. His friendship elevated the Bucello to the top of Firenze society, and through the actions of other Patriarchs, we were given hereditary peerage as Dukes. When I pass, the title will go to Lorenzo, who will then choose his own heir. Dukes in Italia are as rare as elsewhere, and it is a title we strive to live up to. Through his place working with Lorenzo, Mario took the initial funds, and turned them into a fortune enough to begin rebuilding his home, and in only ten short years. We have been nobility since. Do you have any questions?”

I shook my head. It all made sense to me, or at least I understood what he meant. “No, Bisnonno, I don’t think so.”

He nodded, smiling.

“Good. This,” and we stopped in front of door that was more fancy than most of the others I’ve seen around the pallazo. It was painted white, with a colored version of the shield I’d seen all carved and sculpted all over the pallazo.

“This,” he dragged a hand down the painted shield, “is our family coat of arms. Heraldry is a language itself, and is very complex. This checkerboard,” he poked the blue and yellow squares on the shield, “has a specific meaning. This helmet above the shield,” he tapped that too, “has a specific meaning. These cloths,” he ran a finger over the wavy fabric on the outside of the shield, “have meaning as well. If you are interested, we can find literature for you, but it is very complex and difficult to learn. This coat of arms is a visual representation of what we, The Bucello, embody. It is a symbol for us, and… I know my nephew-in-law, your Archie, has a saying for this. You know it?”

“If we forget where we came from, we forget who we are?”

“Precisely. Our Alex reminded me of that fact the first time we met. I value that memory highly. Alas, we have taken longer than I intended. Are you ready for presents?”

“Yes, bisnonno! You’ll teach me more family history, right?”

He patted my shoulder, as he opened the door. “You’re a good boy, Bryce. Before you open any presents, there’s one more thing to show you.”

As the door opened, I saw that the room was huge just like the dining room. There was a large tree in a corner with some wrapped gifts underneath it, and the family was gathered and talking near one wall. Bisnonno led me to the opposite wall from the tree and people. A huge rug thingy was hung up, and as we approached I could see that there were names all over it.

“Mario Bucello commissioned this family tree after the palazzo was completed. It took a historian five years to gather the information, and a further three to have it made. Every time we gain a new family member, they are added to it, and it goes all the way back to Giacomo Bucello.” He pointed out the name. “If you follow it down,” his finger slid down the tree, “you will find our Nico and Alex.” It was there. A line going down from between Lorenzo Adolfo and Aria Chiara Bucello née Accardi to Nicolo Alessandro Bucello. Then a line went to the right, on the other side was “Alexander Aklen Bucello née Addison. From the middle of that line was another vertical line, and under that was my name! Bryce Alexander Bucello! I knew they already welcomed me to the family, but this almost seemed to make it… more real, somehow.

“This tapestry is maintained by the Uffizi Gallery in exchange for limited access to this room for their staff, and a duplicate on display there. We called to have your name added January 14. The day after we were notified of your existence. You are family, Bryce, and you will be forever. Now, enough of this, it is time for gifts!” He turned us around, to another cheer of “Felice Primo Natale, Bryce!”

I called out “Felice Natale, tutti!” and rushed over to dad and papà who were standing in front of the group.

There were lots of hugs from everyone, and there were lots of gifts exchanged. Nonno Lorenzo told me be bought me a laptop, a brand new top-of-the-line 19 inch MacBook Pro, but it would be delivered after we returned home. Buying it in Italy would make me need to get a different plug when we got home, so he ordered it from California, instead of locally. Zio Vincento and Zio Bartolomeo told me they ordered me an iPad, an action camera, and a tripod and mount so I could record my ballet. After my ballet was mentioned there were calls of “DANCE DANCE DANCE,” and everyone was so nice and loving that I couldn’t say no. I’d been dancing ballet for over a year by this point, so I did an improvisation. I had no interest in contemporary ballet, alot of what I saw of that seemed too jarring and not really fluid like classical ballet. I danced about for maybe five minutes or so, being very careful since I didn’t have pointe shoes. I ended with a sideways split, to applause, which made me blush. Zia Ariana approached, and offered me a hand to my feet. I took it even if I didn’t need it. I gave her the tightest hug I could afterward, thanking her for finding a good lawyer so dad and papà could adopt me.

“I am so very happy it worked out for all of us, Bryce. We are pleased to have you in the family. We have one more gift, this one from all of us.” She led me back to the tree, and we sat down. I could tell everyone was watching, and I saw dad and papà sit on either side of us. She pulled a soft wrapped package in front of me, and I pulled the paper apart, to reveal two shirts. One was a black polo with the coat of arms on the left breast, the other a white tee with the coat of arms large across the front.

“So everyone knows you are Bucello.”

“Thank you.” I’d already thanked the others for the other gifts, but I got up to give hugs again anyway. I ended up in the middle of a giant group hug instead.

It was an amazing Natale.

Papà and dad walked with me back to the room, my shirts held tight to my chest, tears making it a bit difficult for me to see. We stopped in front of my door, and dad poked me in the side where I’m ticklish, making me squirm and giggle a bit.

‘You nap set alarm two hour shower before dinner three hour.’

“Okay dad.” He pulled me into a hug, and I whispered into his ear “enjoy the sex.” He flushed hard, and twitched his arms around me. I giggled to myself, and when we pulled back, I heard papà ask what I’d said as I entered my room. I made sure to add my new shirts to the suitcase that held all the stuff we had gotten to bring home. Papà said we’d have to declare it all when we got to customs back home. I slid under the covers, the bed still somehow warm, and made sure to set an alarm for an hour from now, so I could have a nice nap. We hadn’t done alot today, but I was already sleepy. I’ve been tired alot today. Maybe because of stress from all the good things happening. Maybe because of all the happiness.

Natale here was very different so far from what all my friends had told me theirs was like. I really liked our traditions. Our traditions, not their traditions.

Our traditions.

The two words echoed in my mind as I dozed off.

Our traditions.