GOLD, INCENSE and MYRRH by Andrej Koymasky (C) 2005 written the 21st of February, 1994 translated by the author English text kindly revised by Brian
USUAL DISCLAIMER
"GOLD, INCENSE and MYRRH" is a gay story, with some parts containing graphic scenes of sex between males. So, if in your land, religion, family, opinion and so on this is not good for you, it will be better not to read this story. But if you really want, or because YOU don't care, or because you think you really want to read it, please be my welcomed guest.
CHAPTER 4 - ... Incense...
Rocco was twenty-nine years old, and a policemen for ten years. He often asked himself why he decided to do that job. Many boys from the South made that choice, and mainly from his area. Cops or robbers, as they played when children. A strange game, that continues all the life long. He chose the side of cops. Not because he was better than those who chose the opposite side. Moreover it was a really ugly job, that of a cop, but he wasn't able to do any other.
This evening, when he finished, he took his car to go back home, as usual. But he didn't feel like going home immediately, so he stopped at Tano's bar to have a beer. Tano was the brother of a colleague, so he never made them pay for their first order. Tano was also gay. Rocco was not in love with him, but he liked the young man. Anyway Tano was living with Carlo, the other bartender, and Rocco didn't like interfering with a couple. He had been on his own for nineteen months now, he missed a companion. Luigi left him as he couldn't stand Rocco's life style. No fixed schedule and, above all, with the stress of knowing he was often in danger. They loved each other, and yet Luigi decided to break. They both suffered because of that dissension and Rocco, deep inside himself, still hoped for a miracle.
While he was sitting in the bar sipping his beer, he thought it was odd - for the first time the thought of going back home alone, to an empty house, lay heavy on him. So, unconsciously he tended to dally. He thought he could go looking for a hustler to take home for the night. Free if he met one of the boys who knew he was a cop. It happened several times, in the past year and half. Mainly, with that handsome Brazilian boy that he liked, with his fawn eyes and his passionate way of making love. And he was also well endowed, as he liked them. He didn't remember his name, but he could certainly recognize him, and he knew where he hustled. Just thinking of him he felt aroused. He decided to go to look for him. He drove to the park and slowly cruised up and down the boulevard. He recognized a couple of boys, but there was not even the shadow of the Brazilian. One of the boys signaled him and he stopped.
"Hi, Rocco," the boy said hovering at the window. "... let me in, it's so cold out here."
Rocco opened the door and the boy sat at his side.
"With this cold, not a soul comes." The boy complained, then added, "Do you feel like taking me to your place, tonight?"
"I'm looking for the Brazilian..."
"Who, Giuma? I haven't yet seen him. You often go with Giuma. Do you like him?"
"Yes, sure, I like him."
"He too likes you, he always goes with you willingly. He says you are a stud. Why don't you do it with me, this once? For free, of course."
"You are likeable, but not my type. You know I like someone who is both a bottom and top. You're just a bottom, aren't you?" Rocco answered amusedly, then looked at his watch, "It's already 11:47. It's odd that Giuma didn't show up. Are you sure he didn't come?"
"Possibly I just didn't see him. You can have a ride and perhaps you can find him. But let me stay a while more in your car, at least I'll warm up a little."
"Yes, sure." Rocco said engaging the first gear.
"Just think, a gay cop! Ah, if they put you in the vice squad! At least we hustlers could be safe." The boy said giggling.
"Not so! When we go out on patrol, I could do nothing for you. I would have to apply the law even if regretting it. That's why I never ever want to go into the vice squad."
"Do you like the regular beat?"
"Yes, sure."
"But it is way more dangerous."
"It doesn't matter. Somebody has to do the job. And at least I would not leave a widow or orphans." The policeman said, giggling.
"A handsome man like you, it's strange you don't have a steady boyfriend. Moreover they say you make love like a God."
"When I find my mister right..."
"Would you like to have Giuma as a boyfriend?"
"If he stopped hustling... possibly."
"If you ask him, I bet he'll stop at once."
"He earns more than I do. What could I offer him?"
"Money is not everything in life, is it? And you can help him get a permanent visa and a job. With all the friends you have at police headquarters."
"I still don't know him that well. It seems he is not around, I'll just go home."
"You really don't feel like taking me home with you?" the boy insisted putting his hand between the man's legs and provocatively feeling it.
"No. No offence. Please don't be insistent." Rocco answered pulling away the boy's hand, with a smile.
"A shame. Well then, when I see Giuma I'll tell him you came looking for him."
"As you like. Ciao." Rocco said and took the road towards his home, still driving slowly, hoping to see the Brazilian boy coming.
When he left the park, instead of speeding up, he continued to drive slowly towards his home, still thinking about the Brazilian boy. Yes, he would probably like having him as a steady boyfriend. But this would mean renouncing, psychologically, Luigi. He didn't yet feel ready for that, he still hoped he would come back. Luigi, amongst the many with whom he made love, had been without any doubt the best. They had met while he was on duty. Luigi was one of the students squatting as a protest the University. When Rocco chased him up the stairway of the building, Luigi hid in a cubbyhole. Rocco found him. They fought. Rocco held him fast on the floor, laying on top of him... they both became aware that the other was aroused... Rocco then kissed him, a French kiss... Luigi returned the kiss with fire... they made love. Both were foolhardy, especially Rocco. But so started their story - a wonderful story that lasted four years.
When Rocco reached the bridge over the railway he saw a man leaning his bicycle against the parapet. He was wearing a thick jacket, he was looking toward the rails. Something in the man's attitude put Rocco on alert. He put the car neutral and watched. He understood. He didn't have any real reason why, but he understood. He shut off the engine and went on foot toward that man, on the opposite walkway, hoping the man didn't notice him approaching. He heard the whistle of a train, he saw the man moving along the parapet and start to climb over. Then Rocco started running towards the man. Another whistle from the train. Rocco threw himself forward succeeding in grasping the hem of the jacket just before he climbed over the protection grille, and pulled back with all his might. The other turned with an astonished expression, loosing his hold on the grille and fell on top of Rocco. They collapsed on the floor and Rocco held him fast with all his strength in his strong arms.
Finally Massimo spoke, with an angry tone, "Why?" he asked.
"It's me the one who has to ask you why! How old are you?"
"That's none of your fucking business." Massimo answered in anger.
Rocco gave a fleeting smile - he liked them hard. This boy was determined and he also liked him physically. Loosening his grip, he slipped his hand in his pocket and pulled out the police badge. "Look I'm just doing my job! Don't you know that suicide is a crime? Show me your papers, now!"
Massimo, annoyed, pulled out his identity card and handed it to Rocco, while they were standing up. Rocco looked at it then put it in his pocket. "Good, Massimo Sellari, I will now offer you a choice - Either, I'll take you to police headquarters and entrust you to them, or you come home with me, and we will have a chat. Which do you choose?"
Massimo looked at him frowning, annoyed, and asked, "What do you think!"
"Take you to my home, that's evident."
"Evident? Why evident?"
"Had it not been, and I had decided for you, I wouldn't have offered you the choice."
"Why don't you simply leave me alone?"
"Because I can't let you throw your life away."
"But, fucking hell, everyone is free to do as they like aren't they?"
"Within the limits of the law, yes." Rocco answered almost automatically and his answer seemed to him almost silly, at least not adequate.
"Why don't you simply take me to the police headquarters, then."
"Would you like being shut in a cell, having to talk with one, two, or three shrinks, having to answer for what you did, and who knows how many times about the why's and wherefores of your attempt? Wouldn't it be more simple doing it with me, possibly in front of a good mug of beer?" Rocco asked, looking at him with a half smile.
Massimo thought a moment, then said, "All right. I'll come with you, then."
Rocco nodded, satisfied. He made Massimo lock his bicycle to a pole and get into the car to drive him home.
Along the way Massimo asked him, "Later you'll take me to fetch my bicycle, won't you?"
"Sure."
When they reached the policeman's apartment, Rocco made him sit in an armchair, put a beer mug in his hand, sat in front of him and said, "OK, now tell me why you decided to kill yourself."
"Because life is loathsome, now."
"That's not an answer. Tell me what happened to you."
Massimo started to tell his story, going into more and more details as Rocco asked questions or for explanations. At first he had some hesitation about telling Rocco he was gay, but then he thought that he didn't really care about the man's opinion, as he was a stranger anyway and as soon as he let him go, he would commit suicide.
Rocco listened to him carefully, and at the end said, "I understand your despair at the moment. But it is just a moment. All passes, if you just have the patience to wait. But, tell me something, if it was you instead of him who died, would you be happy if he killed himself?"
"If I was dead, I could be neither happy nor unhappy, could I? If dead, I would no longer exist."
"No, wrong - your soul would be with him. And your soul would see, even if it cannot interfere. Would your soul be happy seeing him die?"
"My soul? Do you believe in souls?"
"Yes, of course. And I also believe that his soul is now here, and sees you, and follows you, and continues to love you. His body desired you, but his soul loved you."
"Yes, but the soul, if it exists, dies with the body."
"Bullshit! If it is a soul, it is spiritual, therefore cannot die with the body. Souls survive us. So then, would you be happy seeing him kill himself?"
Massimo was thoughtful, but didn't answer, and Rocco didn't insist.
After a while he said, "Well, it is late, now. Let's hit the sac. We will resume this subject tomorrow."
"Now that I explained my reasons, why don't you let me go?" Massimo asked with a tired voice.
"No, not yet. You told me that the Arab boy asked you forty-eight hours of your life. Good, I too want forty-eight hours."
Massimo looked at him somewhat taken aback, "What for? Just to delay my decision?"
"It could be only for this, possibly. But hope is the last to die, isn't it?" Rocco answered while standing up. He opened a bed-sofa, "I only have this to sleep on, but it is king size, we will sleep here without any problems."
"Doesn't it worry you sleeping with a fag?" Massimo asked.
"No. I too am a fag."
"You? A fag-cop?"
"Yes. Cops are also human beings."
"Your colleagues don't suspect it, I think."
"Sure they don't."
They undressed and got into bed. Rocco, seeing Massimo half-naked body, became aroused. He could feel his body's warmth near him, and felt the desire to stretch his hand out and touch him, but held back. He could feel Massimo's pain, in his words he felt how intense had been the love that bound the two young men, and he wanted to respect it. He could believe that any pain could burn that bad, that Massimo could really think about suicide. And yet he tried twice. How could he dissuade him? How to make him understand that, in spite of all, it was worth living?
Rocco understood from the regular and deep breath of his guest that he was already asleep. "What an odd situation," he thought, "I have in my bed a really beautiful boy, assuredly gay, and I don't dare touching him, even though I desire him. He is a stranger and yet I feel him so close to me..." Rocco reflected for a long time before falling asleep. The light from the street lamps through the window allowed him to discern Massimo's face. It was a beautiful face, although contorted in an intense, sad expression. The stranger entered into his life, or he in that of the stranger, and now he would share with him a few hours. He didn't know if he could manage to dissuade him from his intention, but he would do the best he could.
When Rocco opened his eyes, he saw that Massimo was already awake and was looking at him.
"How long have you been awake?"
"A few minutes."
"Why didn't you wake me?"
"I was waiting for you to wake up by yourself."
"Did you have a good sleep?"
"Bah!"
"Did you have dreams?"
"No."
"What were you thinking while waiting for me to wake up?"
"I was asking myself if you brought me here to fuck me."
"What do you think?"
"I don't know. Last night you didn't even touch me."
"Do you have regrets?"
"No."
"Then you are happy..."
"No."
"Why?"
"I don't care."
"Is this an invitation?"
"No. I really don't care."
"I like you very much, I desire you, sure - but it is not why I brought you here, I didn't even know you were gay."
"If you want me, why didn't you even try?"
"I thought it would upset you, in your condition." Rocco said.
"I don't care at all, as I said."
"Your body is really beautiful, but what can I do with a body without a soul?" Rocco answered.
"Didn't you say that everybody has a soul?"
"Yours, now, is holed up at the bottom of your heart and doesn't want to hear words of hope."
"Hope? In what?"
"Not in what, but in whom."
"In whom, then?"
"In God,"
"God? Which God?"
"In the God who created life. If he created it, there must be a meaning, for everything that happens. Even if most of the time we don't understand it."
"Do you believe in God? Which one?"
"I don't exactly know. But a God of love, I'm sure of that. And whoever he is, whatever his name is, I have faith in him, faith and hope. I don't know why, but it is he who put me on your path. I was not presumed to be there, at that time, and on the contrary... Or possibly it was not God, but your boyfriend."
"If a God exists, he must be mad at me. He didn't allow me to live as I wanted, and he doesn't allow me to die as I want."
"Perhaps he just wants you to reflect. But then he will let you free to do what you want. He possibly wants you to meet somebody needing you, before letting you die."
"You?"
"Not necessarily. Who knows who he is, but possibly he exists and is waiting for you."
Rocco stood up, went to his desk, pulling from it a small box and a little incense cone that he lit and put on a small dish. A thin, scented smoke line hovered in the air, while Rocco walked back to the bed, near Massimo.
"Do you see? It is like our life, it consumes in the fire of love and spreads a scent that rises toward the sky, toward God, a symbol of our hope in him. If I snuff it out, it seems a piece of useless and inert material that doesn't send any scent. Unless one lights it again, with his love. But if I destroy it, if I put it under my foot, and I crush it, it really becomes useless, inert, wasted material." Rocco said looking him in his eyes and in a gentle caress brushed Massimo's cheek.
"Inert." Massimo echoed - he was feeling completely inert.
That light caress didn't bother him, but didn't arouse him either. That glance was warm, but didn't warm him. After all, he thought, he was already dead. Rocco was a really handsome young man, Massimo was conscious of that, and was trying to give him something - a hope. That man believed in the strength of hope and when Massimo would kill himself, Rocco would think it was also his fault, as he hadn't been able to awaken in Massimo the desire to live, and with that desire, the hope, the hope in a life worth living.
"Massimo, I know there is no answer to the pain you are feeling. But life goes on. You see, like that Indian incense cone, that emits its scented smoke. I would like you to remember this, when you leave me. Therefore, here, take this incense cone. It is up to you to light it, or crush it under your foot and waste it. It is a small present of no value, but I would like you to take it with you. Then... you can do as you please. Agreed?" Rocco said putting a small incense cone in Massimo's hand.
Then Massimo took the little golden box, put the cone inside it, and put the box back, without saying a word.
Rocco had the impression he couldn't touch the youths desperation. They spent the day at home. Rocco tried to interest the young man, talking to him about several things - his own life, his interests, his thoughts. Massimo listened to him, seriously, more for courtesy than with real participation. From time to time Rocco could involve him in the conversation for a few moments. But he noticed he couldn't get from him even the shadow of a smile. He then tried to make him talk more about his relationship with Diego. Massimo answered his questions, but without really letting himself go. When he was talking about his dead lover, he always did it with an accent of desperate pain. Even when he was talking about the most beautiful moments of their relationship. And yet, even in this desperate pain, Massimo seemed to maintain a kind of detachment, almost as if he narrated facts of a friend rather than his own life.
After the supper, and having talked for a long while with Massimo, Rocco opened the bed-sofa and they lay down to sleep.
Rocco cradled him in a light embrace and said, "We have a little more than twenty-four hours to spend together. Do you regret being here with me?"
"No."
"But you are not happy, are you?"
"No, not happy either."
"What are you thinking?"
"That I want to die."
"Are you afraid of life?"
"No, not at all. It simply doesn't interest me any more. What do I have to live for?"
"To realize yourself. You still have a thousand roads that are open."
"But for whom? For what?"
"For yourself and for somebody who possibly is waiting for you..."
"The only one waiting for me, if there is really a life after the death, is Diego."
"But what do you know? Possibly there is another one waiting for you."
"Who?"
"I don't know. Somebody."
"Just ideas. He can't be waiting for me if he doesn't know me. And anyway, I'm not interested."
"Because you still don't know him. Possibly all this is just to led you to him."
"But I'm already dead, at this point."
"No, you are alive, and are here with me."
"Just my body is alive, and it's a mistake."
"After the night, the day comes again."
"For the others, perhaps."
"For you too, after darkness light comes and you'll see it, if you don't stubbornly keep your eyes shut."
"No, not for me." Massimo answered with a flat tone.
Rocco could feel all the despair of his guest, and felt sad, because he felt powerless to relieve it. He caressed him tenderly, by instinct, until both fell asleep.
The following morning Rocco got up and left Massimo to sleep. The boy woke up just before dinner time. Rocco hoped that the long sleep had the power to regenerate, at least in part, the young man, but when he looked in Massimo's eyes, he read in them that all the sadness and despair still remained, unchanged, and Rocco felt a pang in his heart.
He watched him getting up and dressed. He closed the bed-sofa and prepared lunch. They ate in silence. After the meal Rocco proposed going out in his car for a ride out of the city, to the lakes, taking advantage of the sunny day. Massimo followed him like an automaton. Rocco told him some more about himself, about Luigi. Then also about Giuma.
"You see, I have possibly to resign myself, I lost Luigi and try with Giuma. But I still can't. I still hope that some day Luigi could come back to me."
"You can hope that, he at least is alive."
"And yet, I know this is a hope without basis."
"But he is alive." Massimo, gloomy repeated.
"Don't you think that, in a way, it could be even worst? He is alive, he loves me, but he doesn't want to share his life with me any more. I don't suit him. My love for him is not enough. Don't you think this is worse, or at least as bad? Different, sure, but just as bad?"
"I don't know."
"Sure, you are immersed in your pain, you can't understand that of another." Rocco said with a hint of reproach in his voice.
"And you? Can you understand mine? If you understood it, you'd also understand why I want to kill myself, wouldn't you?" Massimo said with a tired voice.
"Do you think so?" Rocco asked, rising his eyebrows.
"Anyway, you are wasting your time." Massimo said after a short silence.
"You say that." Rocco quietly answered. Then added, "I think it would do you good being a cop for a while."
"Why?"
"You possibly would understand the meaning of hope. Just seeing around you so much evil, so much despair, so much moral and material misery. If there was not hope, we would have to kill ourselves, all of us. Or to kill everybody."
"Who?"
"Everybody." Rocco answered. Then started to tell him episodes from his job and while he was relating them, he was asking himself what use could it have, being there to say those things to somebody who wanted only one thing - to kill himself.
That evening, back in the city, he offered Massimo a good supper in a typical little restaurant. Massimo let him have his way, he accepted all Rocco's decisions. When they left the restaurant it was late at night. Massimo looked at his watch.
"It's almost midnight. Can you take me to my bicycle?"
"Why don't you come to my place again? Give me twenty-four more hours, come on! I still have a day of leave."
"No. You promised to take me back there. I honoured my promise to you, now it is your turn."
"I would like... I would like to make love with you."
"No, really, I can't - take me back to my bicycle, now."
Rocco understood it was useless insisting. "Good. I'll honour my promise, I'll take you there exactly at midnight. It is not yet midnight, now." He stubbornly said.
"All right." Massimo grudgingly agreed.
Rocco drove for a while. He could have said a thousand things, but he kept silent, as everything seemed useless to him, inadequate. At midnight he took Massimo back to the bridge over the railway.
"Don't follow me, please. Let me go on my way." Massimo said, getting out of the car.
"As you wish."
Rocco also got out of the car, but remained near the door. He watched Massimo going to his bicycle, opening its chain, riding it away. He had hoped that Massimo would at least have turned to give him a last farewell gesture, but he saw the boy disappear behind the bend of the boulevard. So he went back his car, started the engine and sadly went back home.
CONTINUES IN CHAPTER 5
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