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The bar was packed which made it somewhat of an unpleasureable experience given the heat of the day hadn’t cooled much when the sun had finally bled into the horizon.
The humidity must have been around 70% and as most of them had come straight from the air conditioned lecture hall, still dressed in suitable collars and ties, it’s had hit them like hair dryers on full blast in the face and left them all with sticky necks and sweaty faces.
Luckily, like most Miami bars it had a huge open front that let whatever available breeze in and through the thronging crowd.
Maynard had fought his way to the bar through the ever thickening hubbub. He wasn’t going to be able to get back there any time soon so bought himself two Bud lights and appreciated the cooling condensation when he grabbed the cold bottles, one in each hand.
As he concentrated on his footwork as to not step on any toes he turned from the bar to make his way as close to the exit as he could to try and cool off but no sooner had he put one foot in front of the other he collided with someone turning the other way.
Maynard had hit the man’s stomach with his beer clad hands but the man’s stomach was so firm and Maynard so surprised, he managed to drop one of the bottle onto the man’s shoes where it regurgitated it’s frothy content all over his brown brogues.
‘Oh, God.’ came a booming voice. ‘I’m so sorry, that was my fault for not looking where I was going.’
They both bent down at the same time to pick up the bottle when they clashed heads. ‘Shit!’ Maynard exclaimed. ‘Sorry, sorry. Are you OK?’
Finally looking up from the floor at the man who he’d soaked and head-butted in swift succession, his eyes adorned what could only be described as a Greek God, which was only fitting as he’d just come from a lecture on Greek literature in the Dionysian period. Although he was on holiday he couldn’t help but take in the lecture once he’d seen it was on.
From his slightly hunched position the man looked seven foot tall with luscious golden hair, the bluest eyes Maynard thought he’d ever seen and a smile that could capture the sun. A shiver went up his spine and he was momentarily at a loss for some simple words to form a sentence.
‘I’m so… gosh are you… is your head..’
The man was smiling whilst rubbing the spot just above his left eye but still had that smile on his face. ‘I’m fine, honestly! Are you OK?’
‘Yes, you’re absolute perfect…I mean I’m absolutely perfect.’ Maynard stammered. His eyes scanning the almost Viking figure in front of him hoping he hadn’t heard his faux par. He was still impeccably dressed in his shirt and tie and despite the humidity and heat didn’t seem to look one hair out of place. Was this guy so perfect he didn’t even sweat?
The man picked up the now half empty bottle off the floor. ‘This really was my fault.’ he said kindly. ‘Please let me get you another.’
Maynard shook his head. ‘It’s fine honestly.’
The man’s brow furrowed. ‘But surely you need another beer for whoever you’re here with?’ he asked.
Maynard looked confused momentarily. ‘Oh, oh no, no. They were both for me. I didn’t think I’d be able to wrestle through the crowd again so bought myself two. I’m here by myself… for now anyway.’
The man smiled. ‘Great idea and me too! Alone I mean.’ He turned slightly to the bar where he caught the eye of young barmaid which was pretty easy given he was a beautiful, giant of a man. ‘Three Bud Lights please.’
Maynard was slightly flustered although he knew in reality there was no way this guy was gay and secondly even if he was there was zero chance of him being attracted to him. Not that should have been his thought. Not these days anyway. ‘You really shouldn’t have.’ he said as the man passed him over a bottle.
‘No worries.’ He replied. ‘The least I can do. I think I saw a couple of seats right near the front. If you’ll join me that is?’
Maynard couldn’t help but blush a little bit he hoped the heat and humidity already evident in his cheeks would hide it. ‘Sure.’ he replied and followed the man in his wake as he made his way easily through the crowd.
As he eased himself into the wicker chair, the man sighed softly as he undid his tie a little and popped a couple of buttons on his pale blue shirt. He took a swift swig of his beer and turned to Maynard with his hand out stretched. ‘Sorry I’ve not even introduced myself.’ he said. ‘My name’s Oliver.’
He joined the handshake. ‘Maynard.’ he replied at which the handshake that was in full flow came to abrupt halt and the two men ended up looking like they were holding hands.
‘Maynard?’ Oliver asked and released his hand abruptly.
Maynard was confused at the abrupt look in Oliver’s eyes. As if had seen a ghost almost. ‘Yes.’ he replied and then asked tentatively, ‘Are you OK? You look almost offended by my name.’ he added with a brief laugh which he hoped would break the awkward tension in his new acquaintances body language.
Oliver dropped his hand to his glass and took another drink. ‘Sorry, sorry it’s nothing.’ he replied trying not to make eye contact. Instead Oliver began to unbutton his cuffs and rolled up his sleeves. ‘It’s just an unusual name that’s all.’
‘There’s a few of us around.’ replied Maynard. ‘More in Germany.’ he said and took a drink of his own.
‘It’s German?’ Oliver asked somewhat more normally than before. But then again Maynard didn’t know what normal was for Oliver having just met. He nodded. ‘It means brave or hard strength.’ He laughed. ‘I think my father was hoping for more than the weakling he raised whose head was always in a book rather than on a football field.’
‘Amen to that.’ Oliver replied joining in the laughter. ‘My dad was just the same. Although to be fair I did my share on the running track.’
‘So he was only half disappointed?’ Maynard asked without thinking. ‘Shit, sorry that’s absolutely none of my business.’ he hastily added.
Oliver took the his beer in both hands and leaned in a bit deeper into the table. Maynard caught a brief smell of his sandalwood based cologne and fireflies raced through his tummy. ‘It’s fine. I think he would have preferred me to be more jock than nerd but nerd won out.’
Maynard nodded in brotherly understanding. ‘I was even named after my dad's favourite football player, Don Maynard, so you can imagine his disappointment when I majored in literature in college.’ He raised his eyebrows and sighed.
Oliver shook his head and laughed again. ‘And mine was thrilled when I became a philosophy lecturer.’ He replied rolling his eyes. He raised his beer. ‘To nerds who disappointed their dads.’
Maynard clinked his glass. ‘And Amen to that.’ he added and took a swig. ‘So I presume you’re here for the symposium?’
‘Yeah. I mean Dionysian isn’t my field per se but it’s always fascinating to hear an experts take on any given subject. The fight between harmony and revelry and reason versus emotion.’
‘And where they overlap.’
‘Which is everywhere.’ said Oliver.
Maynard nodded. ‘So what is your specialty?’ he asked.
Oliver snorted slightly when he replied. ‘I’m no expert but Pre Socratic society.’
‘Thales, Plato?’
‘Heraclitus more specifically but I cover all of them to some extent or another’
Maynard took in a short, sharp breath. ‘Heraclitus, eh! Must be tough given he only wrote one work.’
Oliver nodded. ‘But there are plenty of first hand accounts of other authors who quote him their works, that do survive.’
‘And have you been able to answer that fundamental question?’ Maynard asked smiling.
Oliver grinned. ‘I’m not sure anyone will be able to do anything but dip a foot in that particular river let alone figure out if it’s ever the same one twice.’ He sighed, almost sadly Maynard thought. ‘And what about you? What literature specifically?’
‘Me? Nothing as complicated as your field.’ he said picking off the label on his bottle. ‘18th century Italian literature.’
‘Italian!’ Oliver stated rather than asked. ‘Of course.’ There was a furtive pause before he added ‘I’m not a huge reader but have read Merope. Well the adaptation by Voltaire anyway.’
Maynard eyebrows raised. ‘Really?’
Oliver nodded. ‘I found a copy in an Italian library once. Well not a library as such, it was only a small office but there was a lot of wisdom to be found there.’ he said looking wistfully off into the distance.
‘Italy? You’ve been?’
Oliver smiled ruefully. ‘Indeed, as have you I believe.’ and looked directly at Maynard who suddenly felt very uncomfortable. He stiffened upright in his chair.
‘Sorry, have we met before? I’m sure I wouldn’t have forgotten you’.’ He emphasised by mistake and wish he could have taken it back immediately but Oliver, by luck, didn’t seem to catch on.
‘No.’ he said, suddenly more serious. ‘But I think we have a few acquaintances in common.’
Maynard was more confused than ever. ‘We do?’
Oliver nodded. ‘I presume the name Samuel Perlman means something to you?!’
Maynard was shocked his mouth dropping open. ‘But..but yes of course. What an extraordinary coincidence. But I’m going to…’ He began but quickly stopped himself. ‘How extraordinary!’ he repeated grinning inwardly. ‘I was a summer guest of his family back in ‘81. How did you know?’’
Oliver lowered his voice a little. ‘The, ummm... the postcard.’
Maynard felt himself buckle inwards and his face beginning to redden all over but Oliver put a warm hand over his. ‘It’s OK. Elio told me the whole story.’ That did nothing but deepen his blush. ‘There was never anything… he was only fifteen. I would have never…’
‘Maynard it’s OK. I know there was nothing physical between you two.’
Maynard slumped back in his chair and blew the fringe of his hair in a massive sigh. ‘He was an exceptional young man.’ he said. ‘I didn’t engage with him too much, not with any of them to be fair. I was too shy back then, he was too. Well maybe not shy but insular and I was so utterly unsure of myself in so many different ways but when we did speak well his knowledge was unbound. He seemed to know-‘
‘Everything?’ Oliver interrupted with a lob sided smile on his face.
Maynard nodded. ‘Everything! Well I’m shocked. Such a coincidence to find you on a day like this.’
Oliver looked confused. ‘A day like this?’ he asked.
Maynard was flustered in his reply. ‘I just mean the two of us in Miami, thousands of miles away from B. and we bump into each other.’
‘Literally’
Maynard laughed. ‘So when did you go?’
‘Only two years later. Elio was seventeen when I met him. It was an incredible six weeks. The best of my life in many ways.’ Oliver replied idly stroking the neck of the bottle with his thumb.’
‘I wish I’d used my time more wisely, tried to integrate with the family more. They were wonderful hosts and the villa was incredible as were the countryside around it but as I mentioned I was far more shy back then. I kept myself to myself and hid in my room. They must have thought me rude.’
Oliver shook his head. ‘I doubt it. I never heard them say a bad thing about anyone whilst I was there.’
‘I take it you joined in far more than I did?’ Maynard asked.
Oliver smiled. ‘You could say that. They almost became more family than my own.’
‘And Elio? Clearly a connection with him.’ he asked trying to be as furtive as his face allowed.
Oliver cleared his throat and once again tried to avoid eye contact. ‘Elio? Why would I have a particular connection to him?’ he asked.
‘Forgive me, Oliver but I never found Elio to be much of a gossip. So if he told you about the postcard and…well shall we say, my obvious indiscretion, you must have been a lot closer to him than I was to talk about such things.’
Oliver shifted uncomfortably in his seat and positioned himself away from the table, looking over towards the sea from which was by now a dazzling shade of blue from the moon light.
‘You’re right.’ said Maynard answering a question that hasn’t been asked. ‘It’s none of my business.’
There was a slightly confining pause in conversation and he thought Oliver might just get up and leave after his forthrightness on the subject but he sat there in silence seemingly contemplating what Maynard had just said.
‘Have you ever heard of the Legend of the red thread?’ Oliver asked when he finally spoke.
Maynard shrugged. ‘No, never.’ he replied.
Oliver picked up his second beer and took a gulp. ‘It’s a Japanese story. It’s said that, thanks to the Gods, each of us has an invisible red string attached to them and the other half is attached to the person with whom they are deeply connected. Not necessarily romantically,’ he added. ‘but with someone with who they have an important story.’
Maynard looked anew at Oliver and saw a deep pain in his eyes. ‘And you believe yours is attached to…’
Oliver nodded. ‘I felt it pull the first moment I saw him. There was something in the way he moved, almost musical, balletic. It didn’t surprise me in the least when I found out he played the piano.’ He lifted his bottle and rubbed it on his forehead to take some do the heat away from his ever reddening face. ‘Can’t believe I’m telling you this. I haven’t told a soul since it all happened.’
The look of surprise of Maynard’s face was evident.
‘I know.’ Oliver said slowly nodding his head. ‘Seven years is a long time.’
‘So why say it now?’ Maynard asked.
Oliver shrugged. ‘Probably because it’s you I’m telling. The only other person I know who could possibly understand.’
Maynard smiled. ‘Maybe, a little, but clearly you felt more than I ever did, or at least allowed myself to.’
Oliver’s brow furrowed. ‘You cared enough to send that postcard.’
Maynard leaned back into his chair. ‘I guess it was some sort of peace offering? Apology? Hope? I’ve no idea really. Maybe I just wanted him to know that my time spent with the family had been appreciated. I know I never really expressed it at the time.’
Oliver drank. ‘I actually have a bit of a confession to make.’
Maynard looked surprised. ‘That involves me?’
‘I took it.’ he said sheepishly. ‘The postcard you sent Elio. It was pinned to his wall. I took it.’
Maynard was blown away. ‘You…you mean he kept it?’ he asked. Flabbergasted by the very thought that Elio would have done such a thing rather than it being stolen by his successor.
Oliver smiled. ‘You’re surprised!’
Maynard laughed. ‘Very! I presumed it would have been discarded just after it was read…but he kept it.’ He was touched. Never in a million years had he ever believed that he anything more than an afterthought to Elio.
Oliver shrugged. ‘He’s definitely one for surprises.’ he said. There was no way he would let on it was probably about the picture on the front rather than the sentiment on the back.
Maynard shook his head in disbelief. If this evening couldn’t have got any stranger then it just did.
‘So I’m taking it you two became more than just friends?’
Oliver rolled his eyes. ‘That obvious huh?!’
Maynard smiled.
‘It was the most wonderful and heartbreaking six weeks of my life. It’s changed me in so many ways. Some wanted, some not. I never believed, or never allowed myself to believe that I could…’ Oliver wasn’t sure he could say the next part out loud. ‘… fall in love. Especially not with another man.’, the last part being spoken softly. It may have been 1990 but prejudice was still rife and the epidemic killing so many gay men, and every other sort of man woman and child, still on a holocaustal rampage.
‘But he had me at hello.’ said Oliver and Maynard laughed at the well worn adage. ‘And he still had me at goodbye.’ Oliver added as grief and remembrance flooded his face.
Maynard look on sadly as Oliver wallowed as the memory engulfed him. ‘Did he feel the same way?’ he asked.
Oliver sighed and nodded. ‘We held on to each other so tightly on that train platform I wasn’t sure he would ever let me go. But I had to be the grown up. I couldn’t just abandon my job, my friends, my fiancé.’ He looked up at Maynard, presuming to find a cold stare of disgust or annoyance at that particular revelation but found his face still soft and engaged. Yet, he still felt the need to explain. ‘I know it sounds like bullshit but we were off and on for a few years. Most defiantly off when I left for Italy. But still, it’s no excuse. In my cowardice I never told him.’
‘That you were promised?’
Oliver acquiesced. ‘Because I didn’t know I was. Not fully.’
‘And there was not much chance of making it work with him!’ Maynard stated more than asked.
Oliver shrugged. ‘How could I have ever taken him with me or stayed there? The mountains of impasse were just unassailable and besides I genuinely thought he would get over me quick enough. All seventeen year olds have flings, summer romances. Come the autumn he would be on to someone new’
‘But he wasn’t?’
Oliver shook his head. ‘After I came home I was under so much pressure to settle down, get married, start a family and in my grief I just let it happen. I called him that December and let him know I was to be married. I couldn’t let him find out from someone else. I owed him that at least.’
Oliver eyes began to fill. ‘I could hear his sadness from a thousand miles away and I barely kept mine in check. I thought he would have moved past us but…’ His voice faltered. ‘He remembered it all, just as I did.’
Maynard wanted to hug him. To tell him it’s would all be OK but Oliver was still a stranger however strangely they were connected. ‘You got married?’ he asked.
‘Briefly. Three years of heartache and sadness that I caused by not being strong or truthful. She had been my best friend. I lost her too.’
‘And you didn’t stay in touch with-‘
Oliver cut him off. ‘Far too painful. And I couldn’t put him though that. Be married and be his friend when we both knew we wanted more that I could give him. Then at least.’
‘But your divorced so-‘
‘And bulldoze my way into his life again? Jesus I’m not sure I could be that selfish and besides, I doubt he would ever want to see me again.’
Maynard eyes twinkled. ‘You’ll never know unless you try.’ he said.
Oliver looked defeated. ‘I would have to have the courage of Ares for that feat.’ He said despondently.
‘Then I suggest you try and emulate him now.’ he replied standing up and waving.
Oliver looked at him confused. Who was he waving at?
‘You know I said I was alone for now?’ he asked.
Oliver responded with more of a questioning face.
‘Well I was here to meet an old friend.’ He said and beckoned them over to the table.
Oliver looked round to see who Maynard was summoning and as he did so his whole body froze.
Walking towards him was the same balletic body who had mesmerized him all those years ago. His features more masculine now, more defined, those curls still as unruly as they had been when he’d been just a boy.
‘My God.’ he whispered, explosions going off in his very soul.
Elio has stopped dead in his tracks the minute Oliver had turned round. ‘Oliver?’ he asked, dumbfounded.
Oliver stood up. His arms and legs wouldn’t cooperate and let him walk forward, he was rooted to the spot. ‘Elio!’ he said.
Elio smiled as wide as the Tiber. ‘It is you!’ he said and with open arms ran the few remaining steps and crashed into his body.
Oliver wrapped his arms around Elio. Positioning his hands around different parts of his back and neck and placed his fingers in his hair just to make sure he was real.
They stood staring at each other, unable to speak until Maynard said. ‘Why don’t we all sit down?’ Elio, you take my chair.'
Elio who had entirely forgotten Maynard existed at that point said. ‘I’m so sorry, Maynard. It’s good to see you too. How are you?’
He smiled. ‘I’m fine but we can catch up in a moment. Let me go and get us some drinks first.’ and left them to go to the bar which had, by that time, got far less busy than before.
‘Can I get a bottle of champagne for that table over there.’ he asked, gesticulating with his head to where Elio and Oliver sat, already in deep conversation, with eyes that hadn’t left each other.
‘Three glasses?’ the waitress asked
Maynard shook his head. ‘Just two.’
‘You’re not joining them?
He smiled. ‘I would only get in the way.’ he said. ‘And besides, they’ve got a life time to catch up on.’ And a lifetime to create. He thought to himself and slipped out unnoticed.
*
Maynard swiped the card to unlock his hotel bedroom door and quietly closed it behind him.
He shuffled off his shoes with his feet and walked to the small kitchenette. He opened the cupboard above it to grab a glass and inadvertently clicked the one sat beside it. He cringed at the noise it made in the darkness.
An arm snaked around his waist and he was pulled into the warm body behind him.
‘Shit, sorry baby did I wake you?’
James spun him around and kissed him. ‘You know I don’t sleep well when you’re not beside me.’ he said and kissed him again but more deeply this time. ‘How was it meeting your old friend?’ he asked. ‘Sorry I didn’t come but I was shattered and bedsides I bet you talked about things I wouldn’t have understood.’
Maynard playfully slapped his backside. ‘Stop putting yourself down.’ he said and took a sip of water. ‘Funnily enough I ran into two old friends.’
James’ eyebrows lifted. ‘Two? What a coincidence.’
Maynard’s eyes narrowed. ‘Hmmmm.’ he said. ‘If you’d asked me before if fate existed I’m not sure I would have believed you but after tonight…’
‘After tonight?’
‘After tonight I’d say she was very much alive and kicking.’
‘So these two friends of yours knew each other?’ James asked.
‘Oh yes.’ replied Maynard. ‘In fact they’ve been tied together for a long, long time.’
fin