Road to Rome

The bar opens at nine o'clock in the evening, so there are people walking around after eight o'clock, dragging chairs, cleaning various containers on the bar, and clanging.A little later, because it was Sunday, the band came and dance music mixed with the noise of the crowd penetrated the floor and woke Marco.The bedroom was pitch dark, and he lay there motionless, taking several minutes to remember where he was, and even longer to fumble for the light switch.Antonio woke up too, frowning in the light.Marcus brushed his messy hair back with his fingers, held the priest's face in his hands, and examined it carefully under the light.

"Conclusion?" Antonio asked after waiting several minutes, still lying on top of him.This was the position they had used the second time they made love a few hours earlier.The black clergy "armor" was on the bedside table, and there was not a single button missing.Antonio refused to let Marco touch the suit, carefully took it off and folded it, and then climbed onto the bed to participate in the "game", obviously taking Father Clement's suggestion seriously.

Marco entangled his fingers in his hair and tugged it lightly: "Conclusion, your hair has grown a bit, and you need a proper dinner."

"Define 'serious'."

"Come downstairs, the kitchen can prepare grilled sausages and chips for us."

Antonio frowned, seeming seriously worried: "Does the bar owner know we're here?"

Marco laughed out loud and couldn't stop for a long time, trembling all over.Antonio stared at him suspiciously and Marco gasped at the ceiling, still smiling.Finally, he bit the priest's lip, turned over and got up, kicking away the dirty pajamas thrown on the ground: "Come on, I don't know how you are, but I really need food."

"But I don't have any other clothes." Antonio glanced at the bedside table. "I don't want to—"

"Wear mine." There is no closet in this room, only a mess of clothes piled on the chair, with varying degrees of cleanliness, Marco pulled out a pair of shorts, threw them aside, and found a shirt near the bottom of the pile of clothes , and threw it to Antonio, then found a pair of trousers that looked okay, and threw them on the bed.Antonio picked up the shirt, sniffed it hesitantly, and put it on.They were about the same height, Marco's shoulders were wider, but Antonio's arms were longer, his shirt sleeves stuck two or three inches above his wrist.The priest walked to the chair where the clothes were piled up, pulled out a dark brown red thin sweater, put it on, and adjusted the collar with the reflection of the window glass.

"You look good enough for a date," Marco commented, buttoning his pants and working on the buttons on his plaid shirt.

"Mr. Costa, you can't date someone like me."

"Inflated self-confidence."

"This is not bragging, I am reiterating a formal position."

"And your unofficial position?"

"Let me know after dinner." Antonio glanced at the stairs, "Please first."

Marco went down first, toward the noise and lights of the bar.The bartender Rubio was already dealing with three customers at the same time. He nodded at Marco, and Marco raised his hand as an answer.The bartender looked at Antonio curiously, but Marco said nothing. He placed the priest next to a small table against the wall, walked into the kitchen, greeted all the living people in it, patted the cook on the back, and skillfully The sausage and french fries for two were put on the plate, and with a bowl of gravy, he returned to his guest.

The priest obviously wanted to pretend he wasn't interested in the band and the various patrons in the bar, but he couldn't help but look around.Two drunk sailors danced crookedly on the table, and the band immediately discarded the original tune and began to accompany them, with the sax playing in a strange tune on purpose.At the table nearer to them, three unkempt men were playing dice, and an ashtray in the middle of the table held stained change.

"This is your bar," Antonio said, sounding somehow like an accusation.

"I'm still wondering when you'll find out about this."

"But that name, 'McNeill'—"

"Bought it from a bankrupt Irishman. A long time ago, not long after my dad disembarked in New York. Almost free. Because of Prohibition, he was going to turn the place into an Italian restaurant, but the money was gone." I took it to buy a boat. Fortunately, it hasn’t been changed.”

"It's better to change it a little bit, it looks like murders happen every night here."

"Only two times, that's normal."

"Mr. Costa—"

"Antonio." Marco licked the salt off his fingers, "Do you want to play a drinking game?"

"We're not drinking."

Marco turned around, raised his hand to attract Rubio's attention, and then gestured to him, two glasses of beer.Rubio made a "get it" gesture and took two pint glasses from the shelf. "The thing about the game," Marco pushed one of the beers in front of Antonio, "is that you don't have to be a priest or even Antonio Pelligrini until we've finished those two beers. And I don't have to be Marco Costa either." .We're just two guys sitting and drinking."

"How do you decide whether to win or lose?"

"No decision, after drinking, we all win."

"It's against the nature of the drinking game."

"Then what is your proposal?"

"Whoever transforms back into himself first loses."

"I accept."

The two clinked glasses, and Antonio took a sip of beer and wiped the foam off his mouth with his fingers: "Did I know you beforehand in this game?"

"Probably not." Marco cleared his throat, "What made you come to this wretched place?"

"My hotel is nearby." The priest replied without blinking his eyes. "I wanted to find a place to drink and listen to the locals chatting. The receptionist recommended this place, but now I think he probably lied."

"Hotel, eh? Not local?"

"From California."

Marco whistled and held out his hand: "My name is Nick."

Antonio shook his hand, and answered a second later: "Killian. You seem to come here often?"

"If twice a year counts as 'regular' to you."

"I thought you lived in Brooklyn."

"I lived in Brooklyn, and I lived on the Cape Cod, and spent more time on board—at least before the war, and now that merchant ships don't go to sea much, what can I do? Only in the bar I drank my salary slowly. How did you come to New York?"

"Going to expand my bakery here."

"Thinking about expanding your business now? You must be an optimistic person."

"There has to be someone like that."

One of the dancing sailors fell and knocked over a nearby table, sending beer, sauce, and fried chicken crumbs flying.The musician put down his saxophone, jumped off the small circular stage, helped the sailor up, and handed over napkins with several hands.The sailor's partner slid unsteadily off the table, wiped the face and arms of his friend sitting on the ground, squinted through his alcohol-blinded eyes to check for wounds, and then, while blood was dripping from the long thin cut on his upper arm , the partner announced that the friend was completely unhurt.

The music continued, the beer spilled on the ground was not cleaned up, and the greasy chicken bones were soaked in it, being stepped on by many feet.

"I hope this isn't a common situation in Brooklyn."

Marco smiled at the wine in his glass: "Oh, baby, you haven't seen the real Brooklyn yet."

"Not sure if I should see it or not."

He sensed an opportunity, and tentatively attacked: "Why not? Is there any moral code preventing people from sightseeing in New York City?"

Antonio shrugged: "I'm married and 'sightseeing' options are limited."

Marco almost choked on the beer, grabbed the napkin and pretended to wipe his mouth to cover it up.Really shouldn't underestimate Antonio's ability to improvise lies. Didn't he see it once in that truck?The priest obviously saw his little gaffe and smiled.

"Madam didn't travel with you?" Marco forced out a word.

"No, she stays at home looking after the shop."

"You're not wearing a wedding ring, so I'm a little surprised."

"Oh, the ring." Antonio rubbed his right ring finger absently, "I never wear it when I travel, and my wife is afraid that I will be robbed on the train. Some train stations in the Midwest seem to be stuck in the cowboy era, you can't imagine. And," he lowered his voice, "do you want to hear a secret?"

"If you're willing to tell a stranger in a bar, there's no reason I shouldn't listen."

"Rings often scare away potential playmates when people are 'looking for fun' in bars or park corners. Maybe some people are particularly interested in married men, but I've never met one myself, so I don't wear them .”

It's not like an outright lie, it seems to contain a little modified real experience.Marco's curiosity lifts his head like a kitty smelling meat, nose twitching: "No, wait, did you actually try it? In the park? I mean, you made it up to win the game ,still--"

"You lost." Antonio slowly cut off a piece of sausage and dipped it into the gravy. "You lost too fast, Mr. Costa. I thought this game could last for a while."

"I never expected to win from the start."

"It's people's way of saving face, and whenever there's a competition, the players want to win."

"Glad to see your hidden aggression."

"I'm not aggressive because I usually do everything in my power to avoid getting involved in any competition. But if it lingers, then of course I try to get the most out of it."

"I also have to tell you a secret, Father, this is also the survival philosophy of the Dock Gang."

"Or maybe you can make a good priest."

"I don't take that as a compliment."

The priest laughed to himself, as if he had come up with a joke, but only he could understand it, so he didn't intend to share it.His eyes were darker in the light of the bar, as was his hair, curled up at the ends in a mess from the friction of the sheets and pillows.Antonio could claim to be a comedian with nothing to do, or a bank teller just off duty, and no one in this bar would disbelieve him.

Before the band switched to another tune, they went back upstairs and smuggled beer away.More than half of that beer ended up being fed to the dirty carpet in the living room for the next three to ten minutes, and the kicking of glasses was easily drowned out by the music and shouting sailors who had lost their bets.

This sex is like their first time.No one spoke, Antonio clutched the headboard of the bed with both hands, pressed his sweaty forehead against the wall, and sobbed with every step Marco made.Marco guessed he felt the same sense of urgency, as if time was rushing out of a broken glass vessel, both light and heavy, like a sandstorm driving them into a pass where there was nothing but bare rock, and they had to Desperately hold on to the remaining little happiness.

Antonio's staccato whimpers turned into low growls, which Marco knew would soon turn into drawn-out moans.He slowed down, pushed a few times shallowly, then suddenly pushed forward with all his strength, buried in the deepest part, and rubbed back and forth at the same angle.Antonio trembled, sounding like pain.Marco reached between his legs, felt his sticky fingers, squeezed, bit Antonio's shoulder, and let the orgasm run over him like a thunderstorm.

The band played a new piece, probably the sixth.

No one was sleepy, worried that the phone would ring suddenly.The two showered hurriedly and returned to the living room, where they curled up on the couch and drank their remaining whiskey, staring out over the bay.In the past, the lights of passing ships could be seen from here, like fireflies on the pitch-black sea, but in order to prevent night bombing, civilian ships are prohibited from leaving the port as long as they are not, and they must be strictly shaded when they go out.The battleships are even more concealed, even if an entire fleet sails out of the Upper Bay of New York, they will not be able to see them.

At one o'clock in the morning, the band got off work and left.At two o'clock in the morning, the bar closed, and there was another sound of pulling furniture, the heavy footsteps of drunks, and the faint sound of washing in the kitchen.Someone in the parking lot sang loudly, and Rubio, the bartender, opened the window and cursed, and the singing died away.Eventually Rubio left too, slamming the jammed door shut and locking it.

Antonio fell asleep, leaning against Marco's chest, with his arms around his neck.Marco pulled the blanket off the back of the sofa and wrapped them up.The phone never rang, and there was no sound outside.At four o'clock in the morning, he closed his eyes unknowingly, then woke up suddenly, his heart was pounding, and he didn't know why.The stairs were silent, no one came up, and the latch was still in place.Antonio opened his eyes too, complained of back pain, crawled onto the longer sofa with the blankets in his arms, curled up, and fell asleep again.Marco stood up and paced the living room, five laps, the phone was silent from beginning to end.He squeezed closer to Antonio and closed his eyes too.

It was dawn, and the first ferry blew its whistle, but it didn't wake up the two people sleeping soundly on the couch. At 07:30, dock workers left home one after another.The laundry next door opened at ten o'clock, and a few cars drove into the parking lot.At eleven o'clock, the clouds lingering over the bay made up their minds and drifted down to the bay.The warm sunshine pours unhindered on every window, every pedestrian and every inch of concrete that is not blocked by buildings.

At a quarter past eleven, the phone rang.