Tom left the dock filled with enormous relief. The pressure had been lifted, he breathed in the cool sea air. He was to meet Peter in two hours. Now he could wander through Venice without the clinginess of Marge, without the constant barrage of thoughts on how to behave. He could be himself, a tourist even.
The merchants he passed seemed more friendly than usual. They smiled and waved even though Tom shunned their wares. Or perhaps, he thought, it was he who was more cheerful. A moment's thought proved this to be true.
Tom was very happy, but not soley because of the Greenleaf business was over. He was more anxious about a new beginning, one with money, a new friend, and the promise of something more? Tom's stomach did a back flip. How would he know for certain? The whole mess with Dickie was proof that he knew little about matters of the heart. He was suddenly aware of his naivete and became embarresed. He needed to show Peter how he felt.
He came to a locksmith and stopped in. An elderly gentlemen greeted him. Tom dug his house key from his pocket.
"Could you make a copy of this key, please?" Tom asked in Italian.
The man indicated it would be five minutes, and went to work. Tom nodded. The man began singing softly in Italian. Something like a lullaby, Tom thought, he picked out words like sleep, and dream in the old man's song. Tom smiled thankfully. He was overcome with the feeling of relief that he was not in jail, or something worse. The truth was, if the detective had caught on, Tom knew he wouldn't last in prison. He'd probably have jumped off that balcony and into the cold canal. Tom shivered. This was no time for morbid reflections.
As if on cue, the old man plunked the newborn key onto the counter. Tom paid and went to the church to meet Peter.
Peter was already waiting outside as Tom came up the walk. "Sorry. I lost track of time. Were you waiting very long?"
Peter smiled, showing all was right. "No, how did everything turn out?"
They walked down towards a cafe. "As well as could be expected. Marge is going back to America. Everybody is. Case closed."
Peter knew Tom would rather be on a different subject, and did not press any further. "Shall we get something to eat? I'm famished."
After dinner, they went for a stroll along the canal. It was approaching 9 pm when Tom decided to let Peter know how he felt. Tom stopped underneath the awning of a long closed cafe.
Tom smiled as Peter shot an inquisitive look. "I have something for you." He took the house key in one hand, and pulled Peter closer with the other. "Use this whenever you want." He slid the key into Peter's trouser pocket, and let his hand rest against his thigh for a moment.
Peter spoke softly. "Could I use it tonight?"
Tom breathed in. He tried to say 'yes', but his voice failed him. Tom moved his hand from Peter's pocket to around his waist.
They stood there interlocked, for a few moments. Peter laughed. "I'll take that as a yes, then."
A voice called out from down the street. The men stepped back from one another, concious of their surroundings. They walked silently towards Tom's house, occasionally throwing a shy smile at each other. Tom reflected on his new beginning, and most importantly, an honest beginning.
The merchants he passed seemed more friendly than usual. They smiled and waved even though Tom shunned their wares. Or perhaps, he thought, it was he who was more cheerful. A moment's thought proved this to be true.
Tom was very happy, but not soley because of the Greenleaf business was over. He was more anxious about a new beginning, one with money, a new friend, and the promise of something more? Tom's stomach did a back flip. How would he know for certain? The whole mess with Dickie was proof that he knew little about matters of the heart. He was suddenly aware of his naivete and became embarresed. He needed to show Peter how he felt.
He came to a locksmith and stopped in. An elderly gentlemen greeted him. Tom dug his house key from his pocket.
"Could you make a copy of this key, please?" Tom asked in Italian.
The man indicated it would be five minutes, and went to work. Tom nodded. The man began singing softly in Italian. Something like a lullaby, Tom thought, he picked out words like sleep, and dream in the old man's song. Tom smiled thankfully. He was overcome with the feeling of relief that he was not in jail, or something worse. The truth was, if the detective had caught on, Tom knew he wouldn't last in prison. He'd probably have jumped off that balcony and into the cold canal. Tom shivered. This was no time for morbid reflections.
As if on cue, the old man plunked the newborn key onto the counter. Tom paid and went to the church to meet Peter.
Peter was already waiting outside as Tom came up the walk. "Sorry. I lost track of time. Were you waiting very long?"
Peter smiled, showing all was right. "No, how did everything turn out?"
They walked down towards a cafe. "As well as could be expected. Marge is going back to America. Everybody is. Case closed."
Peter knew Tom would rather be on a different subject, and did not press any further. "Shall we get something to eat? I'm famished."
After dinner, they went for a stroll along the canal. It was approaching 9 pm when Tom decided to let Peter know how he felt. Tom stopped underneath the awning of a long closed cafe.
Tom smiled as Peter shot an inquisitive look. "I have something for you." He took the house key in one hand, and pulled Peter closer with the other. "Use this whenever you want." He slid the key into Peter's trouser pocket, and let his hand rest against his thigh for a moment.
Peter spoke softly. "Could I use it tonight?"
Tom breathed in. He tried to say 'yes', but his voice failed him. Tom moved his hand from Peter's pocket to around his waist.
They stood there interlocked, for a few moments. Peter laughed. "I'll take that as a yes, then."
A voice called out from down the street. The men stepped back from one another, concious of their surroundings. They walked silently towards Tom's house, occasionally throwing a shy smile at each other. Tom reflected on his new beginning, and most importantly, an honest beginning.