.|. Arizona Rain .|.
The
sound of the engine is a low humming, deadened by speed. It’s pleasant.
Maybe because it’s the only noise I’ve been listening to for more than
an hour now, while I’m watching this endless road. At the horizon,
beyond the irregular outline of red rocks still hidden in shadows, the
faint colors of dawn are chasing each other, placed one upon the other
in vague bright lines. In another occasion, I’d find it considerably
inspiring.
It’s probably still a while before daybreak. Fifteen, twenty minutes? I
wouldn’t bet on it.
I sigh, softly, and cover the whole length of the steering wheel with my
fingers. Never a night had seemed to me as long as this one. Absurdly
long. Just as absurd is being here, now, in an undefined point between
Phoenix and Los Angeles, driving through Colorado desert at five o’clock
in the morning. With this weird feeling on me, under my skin, of
tiredness and confusion combined with… anger, I think. Or something
really similar. Jealousy?
Oh my God… there, I thought it. Again.
I wipe a hand across my face, nervously rubbing my eyes. It’s just that…
it’s annoying. And exhausting. And even if I’m miles away, I really can’t
calm down…
I roll down the window a little. It’s not hot yet, but I need to do
something. Oh, damn.
“Orli?”
I call him, in a low voice. Not a very persuaded one, to be honest. I
waited to wake him up because of that, too. Because I wanted to think. I
mean, I needed to think. About what to tell him, how to tell him… I don’t
even know about what. Damn. Anyway, that was two hours ago and I didn’t
manage to rough up a sentence that sounded even remotely logical. Me,
who has always found words for everything, I now don’t have the
slightest idea of how to behave…
What the hell is wrong with me?
This isn’t the usual Viggo Mortensen. It really isn’t.
I shrug my head, and while I settle down in the car seat I throw another
swift look at Orlando, peacefully curled up in the passenger seat.
Nothing, he’s still sleeping. Oh, well… maybe it’s better this way, then.
I go back to watching ahead of me, starting to believe that he’ll keep
sleeping till Los Angeles, but right at that moment I notice a slight
movement out of the corner of my eye.
“Mhh…”.
He’s stretching out his arms. He raises his forehead from the glass.
I swallow, readying myself to hearing questions I won’t be able to
answer. Maybe.
“I thought you would have slept through the whole journey...”, I say,
trying to keep a neutral tone.
He stays silent for a little while more, then, finally, pulls himself
up.
“What a… headache…”, he groans slurring, bringing a hand to his forehead.
“What time is it?”.
“Almost five o’clock”, I answer, carefully avoiding turning around so
not to meet his eyes. In particular, I don’t comment on his headache.
And then… oh, come on. Vig, you really think he doesn’t remember at
all?
“You can go back to sleep, if you want to, anyway… well, we still have a
long way to go.”
He moves his neck, starts looking outside. A minute passes by.
“Aren’t you… tired of driving?”, he asks me in the end, voice still
sounding hoarse. Thank goodness, I was starting to get worried. I take a
deep breath.
“No, I’m not sleepy.”
“We could take turns.”
“I don’t… think it’s a good idea.”
There. A subtle hint. Even if Orli could think I was talking about his
horrible driving skills, suitable for rally circuits rather than
freeways. I mean… maybe he really doesn’t remember, maybe…
“Vig, I slept for at least three and a half hours. I slept off the
hangover.”
Okay, he surely caught the subtle hint. And he remembers.
My heart starts beating faster, but I pretend I don’t feel it thrum in
my throat.
“It doesn’t matter. I said I’m driving.”
The voice full of venom didn’t come out on purpose, but I don’t
apologize. In fact, it comes to my mind that keeping on the same track
isn’t a bad idea, after all.
“We could have slept there.”
Orli says the sentence sounding almost naive to me. He has turned
towards the window again.
“I got a call at midnight. I gotta be in L.A. for this afternoon, at the
exhibition. There are some problems with the staging”, I mutter. “So I’ll
drive you home and then go.”
Silence. I focus on the road, trying not to think of any particular
presentiment.
“You shouldn’t have had any trouble entrusting someone else with that
task…”.
I close my eyes. I’ll admit it, I kept hoping till the end.
“Orlando…”.
“… you never rushed anywhere, and you were tired yesterday…”.
“Orli…”.
“… you said you would have done it at your leisure. The exhibition can
go on even without…”.
“… fuck, ORLANDO!”.
I take a hand off the steering wheel, extending one arm only to slam the
fingers back on the soft and black surface. Breathe in. Breathe out.
Why does he behave this way, dammit? It would have been so easy to
ignore the whole thing. So easy. And obvious.
I lift my head, and moving my gaze upon him, I notice that he still
hasn’t moved. I know I should stop… God, I know. But I can’t.
“You want me to tell you why we didn’t sleep there? You really wanna
know? Well, I for sure don’t have any problems since you seem so eager
to talk about it. Because we were supposed to get back to L.A. with Karl
today, but this morning you almost fucked him. And honestly the idea of
the two of you going at it again in the car wasn’t all that appealing.
You know how it is”.
I said it. I said it?
Okay, actually the correct sentence would have been “and if Karl would
have kept hitting on you, he wouldn’t have reached L.A. alive”, well,
anyway…
Viggo Mortensen, you’re a complete idiot.
My throat feels dry. I wait.
More silence, endless.
“Now you’re overreacting”.
Orli says those words distinctly pronouncing every syllable.
“You know Karl has never hidden what he thought about me during all
these years. This morning he was drunk, and… well, fuck, I don’t know
why but I let him kiss me. It happened, period. Now you want to tell me
that you’re shocked? That Karl’s a pervert? Or maybe that I am?”.
“No. I’m just saying that you let him, that Karl’s reckless and that you
were showing off in a place where half of the people knew us”.
I grit my teeth. You let him. You let Karl.
You let him, Orlando. You let him. You let him, you let him. You let
him, DAMMIT.
But I’m not satisfied yet. Oh, no.
“For God’s sake, you really want all the journalists in the world to
start that kind of rumors around you?”, I yell. “And then… well, it
didn’t really look like you were restraining yourselves to mere
kissing”.
I hear him sigh. I know he’s getting angry. I, on the contrary, am
turning into a full time idiot.
This conversation is wandering on a dangerous path. God, now I’m the one
feeling drunk…
“What didn’t you understand of what I’ve told you?!”, he starts again,
raising his voice. “It happened. I was blasted. And then… what do you
bloody care? You could have left me there and gone back alone. If I was
being such a bother, you could have left me there. With Karl, and the
journalists rushing to get a picture of us”.
An instant goes by, in the frigid silence. And I feel a shiver go
through me, just as icy. Jesus Christ, Orli…
He doesn’t have the slightest idea of how much I’d like to tell him. Of
how much I care.
Because he was clear-headed enough to understand what he was doing, on
that fucking couch.
Clear-headed enough to remember everything perfectly, now. Exactly… like
I do.
Unbuttoned shirt, hot face. Dark and fine hair plastered to his golden
skin.
The pants. Low-riding. Leaving nothing to imagination.
Not to mine… nor Karl’s. Karl, who was touching him.
I increase the pressure of my fingers on the driving wheel.
God. God.
You… let him.
“And since we’re talking about it… we could have flown there. But no,
you insisted on undergoing twice seven *poetic* hours in a car. You and
your artistic self-injuring spirit”.
I pull myself together, even if his voice sounds distant. Very distant.
I move my eyes to the car mirror and I bite down on my lower lip. Is he
changing subject?
First he insists on me describing the feelings of my wonderful mood at
dawn, five o'clock in the morning, making me talk about a couple of
things I would have gladly avoided, and two minutes later he treats me
as if I were a complete stranger...
My mentor, he used to tell the journalists. One of the
people I will forever be bonded to...
Oh, dammit. I can't... demand anything of him. I can't expect him to
think about me the same way.
But I kept hoping. Always.
In New Zealand, on set, at the premieres. And every time that I got him
involved in my world, watching him be awed and enthusiastic about things
that are normal for me. Always.
I can’t explain where it started from, how it started, but regardless to
the years separating us I… God, yeah, I desperately longed for him. In
every single moment since I’ve met him. Obviously, not only at a
physical level, even if… fuck, all the times I dreamt of pushing him
against the walls of some set or on the side of some New Zealand hill,
during the first months. To take him hard and fast, in secret. Pulling
down his costume leggings, and grasping his arousal in my hands. Basking
in the enraptured expression of his face, overtaken by pleasure…
It feels like my mouth is starting to bleed. I stop pressing my teeth on
my skin, but a vague coppery taste reaches my throat anyway. Breathe,
Viggo. Breathe.
Yeah, maybe I’d better calm down. If Orli notices it, I certainly
couldn’t justify the sudden bulge in my groin telling him I was just
imagining him moan in one of my usual erotic fantasies about him. Mmh,
it’s better if I say some other lie. Or better, half-truths.
“Well, excuse me if I think of you as a dear friend. Is it so weird that
I want to spare you a great deal of trouble?”, I say, controlling the
voice that would otherwise quiver. A dear friend, I repeat in
my mind. Mph. I take a break. “Thank goodness I dragged you away from
there. And then… well, I promised Kate I would have brought you back to
her safe and sound by tonight”.
I feel a sharp pain in my chest just pronouncing that name, but I do it
just to try and get as far away as possible from the risky subjects.
God, I’ve got too big an headache to put up with all of this. Couldn’t I
had banged him on the head when he woke up?
He doesn’t say anything, though. He just slides forward in his seat,
crossing his arms on his belly, covered only by a thin grey T-shirt. We
stay silent. The sun, on my left, is by now half on the horizon. A truck
passes beside us, surpassing us and disappearing from our sight in a
short time.
“Are you going to tell?” he says after a while, breaking again the
ceaseless and monotonous noise of the engine. The question doesn’t sound
arrogant, but fearful.
“What?”, I burst out, nervous. He opens his arms.
“What. What do you think?”.
“Mph. Five years and apparently you still don’t know me…”, I say,
rolling my eyes and pulling my lips in a bitter smile. “Of course I’m
not going to tell. I just told you I’m worried about the press. I’ve
always granted as few interviews as possible, and you…”.
“I’m not talking about the press. I’m talking about the guys. About
Kate”.
“Oh. Well, it’s exactly the sam…”. I stop, suddenly turning to him. “You
really think I could go and tell that to your fiancée?”.
“Well, no… no. It was… it was just to…”.
“And then, if you break up the press really wouldn’t have anything for
the rumor mill. No juicy news from the star-of-the-moment for the
teenagers all around the world who are crazy for him”, I go on,
sarcastic. “Unless, of course, you wouldn’t want ‘Karl Urban’ to replace
‘Kate Bosworth’ next to your name, in the articles…”.
I speak sarcastically, yeah. And with a little bit of wickedness, too.
But I’m not surprised anymore. The usual, wise, well-balanced and
understanding Vig has left this body many hours ago, now…
Orlando doesn’t say anything. And I don’t turn around.
“Really, you just have to say it, and I run to Kate at once. In less
than two days you can be sure that the whole world will know about the
new, shocking relationship of sex-symbol Orlando Bloom with his former
co-star, who played Èomer in Peter Jackson’s trilogy…”.
I pour those words out upon him, I pour them out without stopping, and I
hate myself. I hate myself. Just as much as I hate Kate, as I
hate Karl… oh fuck, no, I don’t hate them. Or maybe I do. Because they,
at least, had the courage to show him their feelings. How much they
wanted him.
“See? I care about your career and your love life”. I rest my left elbow
on the car door, supporting my head with my hand while the other one
keeps steering the wheel. “You should just thank me”.
Silence.
“Are you done?”.
Orli’s voice is just a whisper mumbled under his breath.
“I know you don’t like Kate. You could have avoided telling me again
like this”.
“I’m not the one who should like her. But I’ve got nothing against her,
as I have already explained.”, I say. “It just bothers me how your
manager keeps exaggerating your story. It’s… commercial”.
“You know it doesn’t depend on me”.
“It does depend on you. You still have your life in your hands, dammit.
And instead you let yourself be dragged around by Hollywood rules. Mph,
just like the last famous fish fallen in its golden net…”.
While I say these words, I can feel the security belt getting suddenly
tighter. I bring one hand to my shoulder trying to loosen it, but the
feeling of suffocation doesn’t disappear. I sigh, exasperated. The sun
is getting higher in the sky. I move my gaze to the right, and I notice
some dark clouds gathering in front of us.
“You weren’t like this, at the beginning”.
My last sentence echoes weakly in the car. It’s immediately followed by
the roar of a thunder, far away but clear. I see Orlando jump out of the
corner of my eye. Maybe he closes his eyes for a moment.
“I haven’t… changed, Viggo”, he says slowly, after a few seconds. “I
just followed the road I created for myself, and now I’m an actor. A
well-known actor. But it was what I wanted. There’s nothing wrong in
being famous”.
He strokes a hand on his chin, then his lips. Strongly.
“I dreamt of that”, he repeats slowly. “And you know it”.
“But five years ago the boy from Canterbury I used to know told me
another thing, too”, I reply without waiting. I turn around to look at
him, and he holds my gaze without turning toward the window, without
moving an inch, piercing my eyes with his, instead. Dark, but as bright
as little wet ebony and sand stones. So alive, and wonderful even when
full of rage. Even when they can’t understand me.
“…that is to say, that he wouldn’t let himself be taken over by the
American star system…”, I go on, going back to look at the road,
defeated. “…that he would have kept his feet on the ground. That he
wouldn’t have done something to regret”.
I don’t dare turning around. But the tone Orlando uses right after is
enough to let me guess which expression is on his face.
“Oh, so now you think I’m just like the others? That I’m at the same
level of those who care only about money and business?!”, he exclaims,
nervous. “Great. Really. You’ve put a label on me analysing the shares
of my fee, and condemned me for something I haven’t done yet but you’re
sure I will, isn’t it?”.
He waits a few seconds. He is gasping.
I cowardly don’t answer. He turns around again. Suddenly.
“Let’s hear, how long have you been thinking that about me? No, really,
I’m very curious… I was actually wondering why you kept avoiding me,
lately. Why you refused all my invitations to come visit me on set, even
if we hadn’t seen each other in months”.
“Orlando, that’s not what I meant…”, I manage to say in a very faint
voice. Pathetic, I say to myself. It was better if you shut
up…
“I’m sorry if I’m not that naive and reckless just-out-of-theatre-school
little boy anymore”, he interrupts me, harsh. “The Orlando Bloom who
used to throw himself out of a flying chopper risking to kill himself
every time”
“Stop it. You haven’t understood anything. It’s not…”.
“Or maybe it’s because of what happened tonight? You saw me on that sofa
with Karl and now you think it’s not going to be long before I shag
loads of colleagues, producers and directors just to… I don’t know, have
new roles, am I right?!”.
He’s yelling. Fuck.
“No. I never said that. You’re doing everything by yourself”.
“Yeah, right…”.
“Come on. It wasn’t the first time you lost control in this kind of
situation, and what’s more this time you… decisively reached your limit.
It’s that…”. I search for words. Desperately. I sigh. “…Good
heavens, you’re never careful, you’re not… responsible at all! In spite
of always being told the same things, you…”.
I stop again. I bend an arm, running my fingers through my hair.
“And, you know what?”. I stare at him. “I liked that little boy from the
English countryside much better, the one that went bungee jumping
without Peter’s consent, in New Zealand! At least he used to listen to
the people who worried about him, sometimes. And even if he was
reckless, he never forgot who he was. What he believed in”.
Orlando returns my look. Sharply.
“You can always tell this Orli to sod off, Vig. Nobody’s forcing you to
keep being friends with him”.
“You’re childish”.
“But when it’s convenient for you, you’re okay with it, aren’t you?”.
“Mph, and pathetic, too…”.
“That’s it. I’ve had enough”.
It takes me a while to understand where the music that, all of a sudden,
starts to carry through the car is coming from. I’m too shocked about
what my mouth has said in the last five minutes, actually. Where I’m
driving at, I don’t know. And above all, I don’t have the slightest idea
if I’m able to stop.
“What the… hell are you doing?”.
“I’m listening to the radio”.
“We’re talking. Turn it off”, I hiss.
Why? Why do I keep using this tone?
“We have nothing else to say to each other. And certainly the radio is
better than other four hours of conversation with you”.
Suddenly, I feel something undefined go through me. I can’t name it, but
whatever it is it’s not… pleasant at all.
It spreads over my body, biting and fast, like poison. Painful.
No, it can’t end this way. I’m not ready to lose him over something… so
stupid…
Viggo, you have to stop. Now.
“You will, instead. I said it’s to be turned off”.
And I turn it off.
Okay, it is now evident that my brain isn’t communicating with the rest
of my body anymore. There’s no other explanation.
Orlando stays still for half an instant. He stretches out an arm, turns
the radio on. I sigh, and I quickly press again the little key on the
electronic screen of the dashboard. The lightened display goes dark
again.
Another deep sigh. Before I can even bring my fingers back on the
steering wheel the last song of some hip-hop singer is reaching my ears.
I close my eyes, having now reached my limit. When I open them again and
I turn to Orli, he’s staring at me with challenge in his eyes and his
lips pressed tightly together.
I watch him. I frown, but the moment I start saying something another
noise, sudden but soft, catches our attention. We both turn facing the
road.
Thousands of little water drops are quickly gliding along the
transparent surface in front of us, insistently pattering the glass
already flooded with rain. I don’t know why, but we spend at least ten
seconds staring at the trails trickling down the air-blown windshield,
utterly dazed. Luckily I recover fast enough to start the wipers before
ending up swerving off the road and making the car roll in the desert. I
firmly put both hands on the wheel, trying to slow the beats crazily
pounding between my temples. God, thank goodness the road is always
straight…
I admit it, for a moment I was scared. I’m not one to be distracted
while driving. In fact, I’m not one to be distracted in general. Okay,
there’s something really weird with me today… maybe I’m possessed by
some strange entity and I don’t know it.
“It’s raining”, Orlando murmurs in a low voice.
I press together my lips, shaking myself from the sight of the car
overturned among the rocks with difficulty.
“I noticed”.
The music, on the radio, stops. A male voice apologizes with the
listeners, and passes the line over to the weather forecast. We direct
our gazes to the screen above the gear.
“A strong perturbation is now affecting Arizona after going through
Southern California, last night. Coming from the Pacific Ocean, it will
move to north-east, toward New Mexico and Colorado only in the late
afternoon. We advice our listeners against traveling this morning, since
it’s going to be an intense perturbation, especially in the areas of
Phoenix, Mesa and Prescott…”.
“Great”, I say, ignoring the rest of the announcement. “That’s what we
needed, I’d say”.
Orli leans forward. He tries to look at the sky. I don’t think he can
see much.
“Maybe it’s better if we stop somewhere”, he says then, resting his back
on the seat. “The radio says so, too. I don’t think we should go on if
half a downpour is coming”.
I throw a quick glance his way, tempted to give him a rude answer. If
he’d given me the time, I would have proposed the same thing. I pull my
right hand off the wheel for a moment, and get down a gear. You’re
behaving like a child, Vig. And you say he does…
“Mph. Wanna bet we’re miles away from the next motel?”, I mutter.
“You’re such a pessimist. I don’t think so”, Orli answers, calm. “Wait,
when we left from L.A. I had put in the dashboard a guide of the…”. He
opens the little door in front of him, and smiles triumphantly. “Here it
is! ‘Complete guide to the roads of Arizona State’. Perfect. Now I’ll
try to find some information on petrol stations, or something like
that…”.
“Such a prevident guy…”, I say, sarcastic. That’s enough, all this
tension isn’t good for me. And then, hell… I don’t want to keep arguing
with him. Even if arguing is better than telling him things I would
regret for sure, later…
I close my eyes, and I take the another long breath. It would be the
perfect day to confess him everything. Really. But I probably wouldn’t
be able to help myself. And I’d only end up ruining everything. Well,
actually I’m already on the right track, for that…
“Hey!”, Orlando suddenly exclaims, cheerful. “What did I tell you? Not
even forty miles from here, a couple of hours away from the border,
there’s a motel. We should be there in forty minutes top, I think”.
“Mhh”. I focus on the movement of the wipers. “Great”.
Silence, and the hypnotic pitter-patter of the rain. A slight movement
from Orli, toward me.
“How many times do you plan on repeating that?”.
I change the radio station. I leave it on a Neil Young song. I turn down
the volume.
“What?”.
“Great”.
I don’t say anything. He watches me, and keeps doing it for the
following ten minutes.
“What’s the matter?”, I ask him in the end, losing my patience and
turning around.
“Nothing. I was thinking about something”.
“Let’s hear”.
“About… well, this situation reminds me of when we spent a whole night
on Mount Egmond”, he murmurs. “In the Northern Island. At… the end of
principal photography. We wanted to go on a road trip…”.
“… and we ended up snowbound because of that sudden blizzard”, I
conclude straight away. My lips stretch in an easy smile, and the
nervousness disappear. Unexpectedly. God… that night. “Yeah.
But that time there weren’t any motels in the surroundings”.
“True”.
I look at Orlando. He’s smiling, too. He’s smiling at me. In a
way… I haven’t seen in a long time.
“We spent the whole time in the car”, he goes on, gently. “Even with the
heating on, it was incredibly cold”.
“And when the engine went out and I couldn’t switch it back on, we moved
in the back seat…”, I intervene again. I bring my gaze back on the road,
and half-close my eyes. “We waited for the dawn holding each other to
avoid freezing to death. Even if… well, honestly, I have to admit to
thinking more than once that they wouldn’t have find us. Remember? Even
the cells were out of range”.
I laugh, and I notice Orlando staring at me with a corner of his mouth
lifted upward, lost in memories.
“Or that they would have find us huddled up in the back seat the next
morning, stiff and frozen like hams in a refrigerator cell…”.
He bursts out in a loud laughter.
“A beautiful image, nothing to say about it”.
“Yeah. The last scene in a drama novel, or in one of those movies when,
at the end, they find the dead lovers’s bodies twined in a last
embrace…”.
Only pronouncing those last words I understand what I have…
unintentionally hinted to. I clench my fingers on the surface of the
steering wheel, bracing myself for a long, awkward silence. Orli,
though, doesn’t seem to be worried about it at all, on the contrary he
laughs again. I sigh, then, relived. Why should he be worried, in fact?
Probably it was only me that did nothing but think about his body
pressed against mine. Motionless in the darkness, while I watched our
breaths turn into evanescent clouds of steam with every word we
whispered, I remember I even thought that I had had enough, even too
much, of what I had been dreaming for months. That unaware embrace would
have been enough. And that even if I had died before dawn, it wouldn’t
have mattered all that much…
The rain is coming heavier, now, but not violent, luckily. Beyond the
windshield I see only a grey misty curtain, covering a road with
ever-fading sides. The sky is almost totally cloudy, but oddly there is
still a sliver of sun shining through at south-east.
Surreal, I think while I watch it. And for a few moments, even
if I’m sit down, I feel like I’m unsteady on my feet.
“We spoke… of the future. Of our future after the trilogy”.
Orlando’s voice fades away, while saying the second part of the
sentence. As if he’s afraid of shouting, or of overpowering the
incessant sound of the rain.
“You… told me you had never met a young actor with such a passion and
such a talent. That I was a revelation. And that soon everyone would
have realised that”, he goes on in a low voice. He slowly turns toward
me, but I can’t take my eyes off the white line in the middle of the
road. “I haven’t forgotten it… in all these years. Never. You were the
first one to believe in me. And if I arrived where I am now, it’s mostly
thanks to you. Even if you may have stopped believing it, you have
really been my mentor. You still are”.
For a second, just for a second, I feel guilty. I also feel some vague
happiness, but just as it grazes me, it disappears with the same
impalpable lightness, immediately. A little smile appears. The slightest
bending of lips, that comes unbidden. Bitter.
Why suddenly… I feel this lump in my throat?
“Hadn’t you declared we had…”. I swallow. With difficulty, great
difficulty. “… nothing else to say to each other?”.
Orli folds the guide, which he still holds in his hands, lowering his
gaze on his fingers. Waits. The rain keeps flooding down the car, and
its sound joins the radio, fragmentary and distant, to fill the silence
left by my shaking voice.
“There was still… something else”, he murmurs in the end. He rolls up
the book a few times, unfolds it, turns it around. I don’t know which
expression he has on his face. And I’m not sure I want to know. “But
Vig…”.
Hearing him say my name that way, shortened and not followed, this time,
by another harsh or bitter sentence, is enough to remind me of the first
years. When Orlando always, every single time, called me Vig.
When he was peaceful, reckless, passionate, naive, curious. When… well,
he was simply Orli. And the two of us just Orli and Vig,
without spotlights or red carpets to accompany our steps…
I half-close my eyes. He starts talking again, anticipated by the flash
of a lightning that, for an instant, floodlight the grey road.
“… the days in New Zealand… they won’t come back anymore. Nor will the
dreams of that time”.
His voice, this time, sounds near to cracking, but maybe I’m wrong.
Perhaps it was only the crackling of the thunder that, roaring in my
ears, overpowered his words…
“Probably… I’m not the Orlando you hoped I’d be. In fact, I’m not… even
the person I dreamt I’d be…”. He checks his voice, lowers it. “…
someone… like you…”.
The sliver of sun is still there, broken in half by the edge of a dark
cloud. Its outline, though, is a bright gold.
And again, that dizziness…
“Orli, I don’t…”.
The sentence is stuck in my throat. The halo of light that surrounds the
dark blanket at the horizon shines, challenging the storm-laden clouds.
I see it, out of the corner of my eye. It blinds me, and burns my eyes.
“After all… you are right, you know? I disappointed you, Vig. I know I’m
just another Hollywood puppet. A boy who loves the fame he conquered,
who happily counts all the magazines he appears in every week and who
accepts with no trouble at all that his manager pairs him with a cheap
actress who needs him for a little publicity…”.
“Orli… no, stop it…”.
“… only for money. A sodding idiot that goes to each A-list party just
so that they can take pictures and he can meet producers that might get
him new roles. A twat that can only ends his nights blasted and almost
getting shagged by the first bloke that…”.
“… STOP IT, I SAID!”.
Suddenly, the glass of the windshield gets dangerously near, while I’m
lacerated by a very sharp pain in my chest. I manage to see Orli grab
the door and be lifted from the seat for a moment, restrained by the
safety belt, just a second before closing my eyes. Only when both of us
fall again against the car seats, the last echoes of the harsh noise
made by the tires on the wet concrete reaches my ears.
I raise my eyelids. Breathing hard, I stare at the center of the
steering wheel, realising I’m squeezing it in my grip. I can’t move my
hands. My right foot, instead, is still pressed down on the brake. I
slowly move my gaze beyond the hood, keeping my shoulders bent, tight.
The car stopped at the edge of the road, really close to where the
concrete ends to be replaced by the red dust of the desert. Beyond the
greyish line of the lane, an almost ten feet fall makes me swallow.
Noisily. A sharper sudden turn and we would have taken a nice dive.
I blink a couple of times, and only when this dreadful thought strikes
me I turn toward Orli. He’s sunk in the car seat, near the door, with a
hand on the little leather-lined arm-rest and the other one open on his
leg. He’s staring at me with wide and glossy eyes. Full of unshed tears.
I bite down on my lip, looking at him without being able to utter a
word. Under my eyelids, I feel some prickling, too.
“You…”.
He raises himself up a bit, leaning on his arm.
“… you… are so much more than… than that, fuck…”.
It’s the only thing I can think about. And that I can say. I wonder if
Orlando will understand I’m talking about what he said earlier and I
move my head, going back to stare at the road.
Now, it’s still. Final.
“And you haven’t disappointed me. You could never… never do it”, I add,
gasping. I watch the rain come down with almost glassy eyes, feeling
more detached by the minute. My arms, and my fingers grasping the wheel,
are still shaking. But it’s almost as if I didn’t feel them like part of
me anymore, as if I weren’t here. Not in this body, anyway. As if… I
were looking at me from outside. And I were shaking my head at
the myself in the car. With disapproval.
Really… do you want to go on this way? Hurting so bad… for him?
That’s what I would tell myself. Yes… probably, I’d only ask myself
that.
“And… what am I, then, Vig?”.
Orli’s voice reaches my ears. Weak, broken, exhausted. Imploring.
But I don’t turn around. I can’t… turn around.
‘Cause if I really had died, this time, I would never have forgiven
myself.
He is right. It’s not like five years ago, in New Zealand on Mount
Egmont.
This… all of this, is not enough. This time, it’s not enough
anymore.
I close my eyes. I open them again.
Tears are running down my face.
“Vig…?”.
I unbuckle the seat belt. Throw open the door. Get out of the car.
The sudden feeling of water on my skin makes me shiver, but it’s what I
want. What I need. I quickly walk around the car, passing in front of
the lit headlights, and I stop just a couple of inches away from the
edge of the slope. I raise my face to the sky. Gradually I feel my shirt
cling to my skin, while rain drops, light, keep running down my neck. I
collect them in my hands, then I bring my wet fingers to my cheek.
Through my hair.
God… I can’t take it anymore.
But behind me, suddenly, a noise. The door slams. And his voice, again.
“We have to… we have to go to the motel. We can’t stop”.
Another thunder roars in the sky, but I don’t react to it. I keep my
hands on my forehead and take long, deep breaths, and only after a few
seconds I manage to lower my arms. I put them on my hips, staring at the
concrete.
“In… a minute”, I murmur flatly.
Behind me, only the falling rain. Then, a barely audible whisper.
“I’m sorry”.
I close my eyes, bending my lips a little.
“It’s not you fault we went off the road, Orlando. It’s mine”.
“I wasn’t… I wasn’t talking about that”.
“About what, then?”.
“About everything… else”. A short pause. “About me, and about you”.
A shiver runs across my back, but I know it’s not caused by the rain.
And if my sight is dimmed it’s just because of the water that soaks my
face…
“You are a great actor, Orlando. I thought so five years ago, and I
still do”, I try to say without my voice breaking. “Just as I think you
are a good guy, and a dear friend. Who doesn’t have to be like anyone.
We just lost touch of each other, and I’ve been a little nervous these
last few hours, that’s all. So forget… forget all the bullshit I’ve
said. Really”.
Great Vig. Excellent job. Exactly what…
“It’s not what you meant”.
My eyes widen.
“Tell me what the matter is. Seriously. If it isn’t because of what…
I’ve become in Hollywood, then what for?”.
I press my hands on my hips.
“I told you… there is nothing else”.
“I want to know, Vig. I’m not going to… risk losing your friendship
without even knowing why!”, I hear him burst out in anger. “I don’t want
to meet you next time being afraid of finding again in your eyes what I
saw this morning. Whatever… whatever it is about”.
My arms go limp at my sides. I slowly start turning around, aware of
having reached the point of no return. But it was you who wanted to,
Vig, I say to myself. You.
The headlights of the car violently pierce the greyness of the air,
showing the water drops that, heavy and perpendicular to the ground, are
chasing each other fast till they shatter on the road. A few footsteps
away from the bright beams, still and with tired-looking dark eyes,
Orlando is watching me. The wavy locks of his thick brown hair are now
sleek, unruly, stuck to his nape and his wide forehead because of the
rain that, by now, has them soaked through. The T-shirt is sticking to
his perfect body like a second skin, outlining the profile of his chest
with almost geometrical precision, while the baggy dark pants are
hanging heavily from his angular hips, dripping water.
I stare at him for a moment, enraptured. And clenching my fists I find
myself swallowing more than once, just to try and not to think about how
wonderful he is, and beautiful, and astonishingly sensual. I open my
lips slightly searching for air while, on his left, the light of the
sliver of sun suddenly increases in intensity thanks to a shifting
cloud, and caresses his sad face with its golden halo. Dimly.
“Orlando…”.
He tilts his head, dejectedly raising his brows.
“What for… Vig?”, he repeats.
I swallow again. The rain is coming heavier now.
“… the truth is… I can’t bear to look at you surrounded by all… all of
them”, I admit then, ignoring the violent and biting touch of water
drops on my skin. “By Kate, by… by your manager and by all… those actors
and… actresses…”.
I take a few steps forward. Orli’s gaze on me is turning inquiring.
“… and I hate leafing through a magazine, in the morning… or turning on
the TV, surfing on the Net just to find out that… you are at the other
end of the world to shoot a new film. When… nobody informed me. When
nobody told me”.
I stop and take a deep breath.
“When… you didn’t tell me”.
He keeps watching me, getting more and more confused.
“That is the reason?”, he says, raising his voice to be heard over the
sound of the rain. “I don’t… think I have really understood. I hope
you’re kidding, because I really don’t…”.
“It’s exactly what I’ve said”.
“But… Vig, honestly…”. He brings a hand to his forehead, moving back the
hair fallen to his eyes. He goes back to looking at me. “… maybe… I
mean, maybe only my mother knows where I am all the time! And the
others, too… the guys, and…”.
“That’s the point. I am not the others”.
I say that without thinking about it. I say that, and I don’t think of
the consequences.
“I don’t want to be… like the others, for you”, I repeat again. I look
at Orlando in the eye, catching complete confusion in his liquid irises,
maybe embarrassment. I have no idea what he’s thinking, but I don’t
care. I keep watching him without averting my gaze and after a while he
opens his mouth slightly. Swallows. He tries to say something, then
thinks about it and stops. He looks at his feet. Lifts his head, at
last. Suddenly.
“You can’t… ask me something like this”, he utters barely moving his
pale lips. His sparkling eyes, amidst the rain drops, are reduced to
cracks surrounded by long dark lashes. “Because I can’t… grant you that.
It’s not in my power to”.
I take another step forward. I don’t stop staring at him, but Orlando
smiles. He slowly shakes his head then smiles.
With those bright and sad beams watching me. So sweetly.
“You can’t keep a check on me, Viggo”.
This time, his words sound clear to my ears. He has spoken them in a
loud, clear voice, pronouncing them slowly and distinctly. Without
making them sound rough, but caressing them gently. I wonder if there’s
regret in his melancholy tone, together with something he’s not able to
explain to me if not with silence. In my mind I ask myself that more
than once, while I move toward his slender shape, sharply outlined
against the road.
“Viggo…?”.
He moves his face, opens his mouth, closes it. Fast streams are
trickling down his face, dripping from his chin.
And between me and him, just an invisible wall of water, light and air.
So fragile, now, to pull apart.
I move first a foot, then the other. Another time, then again, quickly.
The few inches that separated us are suddenly non-existent, and in a
second I find myself squeezing his shoulders. Feeling his tense body,
made sensitive by the rain, adhere to mine. Mine, that presses him
against the car door with such violence and such possessiveness I didn’t
believe I had it in me.
“And instead… I want to do it…”, I whisper in his ear, lightly stroking
his wet locks with my cheeks. “… because I want you to… be only mine,
Orlando. Only… under my control…”.
I breathe in his scent, and I barely move. Just enough to be a breath
away from his mouth, and press my lips against his. Cold, wet. Without
waiting for his reaction to my gesture, to my words, without allowing
him a retort. His taste blends with the rain, while a warm shiver runs
swiftly across my back. I increase the pressure in his mouth, unable to
stop, but when I introduce my tongue, too, he doesn’t push away. Out of
instinct, I thrust my pelvis against his, and feeling his arousal
another incredibly intense burst of sensations is suddenly coursing
through me, forcing me to break away from his lips just to regain my
breath. I sigh in pleasure, and only then I become aware of his hands
around my waist.
I barely open my eyes, still not completely conscious of what I have
done, what I am doing, and finally I meet his. Surprised, happy.
“Since… since when?”, ha asks in a whisper, frowning with half a smile
on his face.
I stare at him for a while, then I return the same ironic bend of lips.
“Since the beginning. Immediately”.
Silence, lasting very briefly.
“I can’t…”, he whispers against my chin, starting to laugh. “… I can’t…
I can’t believe it…”.
He leans his head against mine and I can’t help myself, I join him,
still hugging him close to me.
“We’re two idiots…”.
I frame his face in my hands and our laughter, cut off by little kisses,
can be heard over the pelting rain that keeps falling. We laugh for a
long time without stopping until, together, we lower our voices. We look
at each other, then we go back to kissing, gently at first, then with
more and more passion. We leave the car behind us and start drawing
back, forgetting about the slope a few feet away. Only when I feel the
sudden empty space under my foot I try to push Orlando toward the road,
but I slip on the earth, turned to mud by now, losing my balance and
dragging him along.
I roll for at least ten seconds without having the nerve to open my
eyes, feeling only the steepness of the ground dragging me downwards and
Orlando’s body held tight in my arms. When, slowing down, we reach the
bottom of the slope we keep still, curled up in the twilight of that
little corner of desert as if waiting for something else, or maybe just
astonished that it is over so fast. After a while I lift my eyelids and,
my heart going a mile a minute, I take a deep breath. Luckily, there
weren’t any rocks…
“Yes, we really are two idiots…”, I murmur, lifting my head toward the
edge of the road beyond which I catch a glimpse of the faint glimmer of
the headlights of the car, run through crosswise by the rain. “We risked
to die in a very stupid way twice in half an hour. Must be a record”.
I sigh again, but my thoughts immediately go back to Orli. I lower my
eyes on him, lying on his back and partially covered by my legs.
“Are you okay?”.
Orlando stares at my worried gaze, then bursts out laughing again.
“Never been better”.
I lift a corner of my mouth, relieved.
“A little muddy, maybe”, I say, trying to wipe clean one of his dirty
cheeks with my fingers but only making things worse. “But real sexy for
sure”.
He chuckles again. He nears his face to mine, draping his mud-covered
arms around my neck.
“I absolutely agree…”.
Our lips meet again, but after hugging a few times rolling on the red
and thick ground beneath us, all of a sudden we stop, interrupted by the
deafening roar of a thunder that, together with its lightening,
illuminates our entwined bodies on the bottom of the little slope.
Orlando sneezes and I burst out laughing.
“Mmh… even if the idea is quite tempting, maybe we’d better go on
telling each other what we didn’t tell during the last five years once
we’re at the motel…”, I say slyly, grazing one of his nipples with my
tongue, just to reclutantly move away and lower his soggy T-shirt on his
belly.
He opens his eyes, staring at me with equal part frustration and
embarrassment.
“You… you’re right”, he whisper, shivering. In spite of the downpour,
the temperature isn’t very cold, but we have surely spent too much time
under the water.
I draw him to me. We gain our feet with little difficulty and, being
careful not to slip, we manage to go back to the car in a few minutes.
We get in without saying a word, but once we close the doors and I turn
the key in the ignition, a sputtering croaking suggests the worst of
situations.
“Run-down battery”, I state. I look at Orlando and shrugging I wink.
“Any doubts, by chance?”.
He laughs in reply.
*
“Anyway, fighting for a few more years wouldn’t have been so bad…”.
Orli raises his face to the sky, pushing back the long dark locks for
the thousandth time. He turns around to watch me, and an ironic smile
appears on his lips.
I glare at him fondly. I try to find a better position for the duffel
bag on my shoulders, then we both bring our eyes back to the horizon,
looking for the ever-nearing motel. Even if it’s after six there’s no
one around, and the lanes are completely empty. Loaded with luggage and
soaked through while walking on the side of a freeway in the middle of
the desert at dawn, we probably look like two hitch-hikers coming
through a most unfortunate night. But without a doubt this isn’t our
case. This isn’t mine. For me, actually, this is the luckiest
night of my life. And the most wonderful one.
“Now, though, I want to know”, Orli says all of a sudden, shaking me
from my thoughts. I turn around, opening my mouth without understanding.
“What?”.
“If you were jealous. Of Karl”.
For a moment, I stare at his eyes, full of mischief, then I slowly shake
my head.
“Oh, no… don’t tell me…”.
“Oh, yeah…”.
“You little…”.
I drop the suitcases on the street in order to throw myself at him and
take my revenge with a few seconds of cruel and ruthless tickling. I
immobilize his arms with one hand, while the other is around his waist.
I kiss him on the neck and he throws his head back to rest on my
shoulder. We chuckle.
“So, you did it just to see if I was jealous…”.
“Well… no, not really. It was desperation, more than anything else”, he
explains. He releases himself from my embrace and, purposely not looking
at me in the eye, picks up his bag. “It’s just that… I was practically
sure you didn’t return my feelings. I mean… all those years and nothing
had ever happened between us. And I surely didn’t fool myself these last
few days when… we met again. But… maybe, deep inside me… well, I kept
hoping. Or I felt it, who knows?”. He smiles at me. “Anyway, that’s why
I decided to get blasted yesterday night, and to let myself get carried
away with Karl. I was feeling really low, I assure you. And this morning
you weren’t the only one to have reached their limit”.
I clench and unclench my fists a few times and take long, deep breaths
to forget what I’ve seen the night before. Control, Viggo. Control.
Remember that if it wasn’t for Karl probably nothing would have
happened, on this road trip…
“Mmh, you know I will still have to kill our dear colleague for daring
to make a pass at you, right?”.
Ha stares at me, shocked, and I burst out laughing.
“I’m kidding”, I go on with a smirk. Maybe, I add in my mind. I
pick up the suitcase and I start walking again. “But what I said when… I
kissed you, back at the car, it’s true”.
His expression, pouting and ironic, changes. It becomes relaxed, and
sweet.
“I want you to be under my control. Want to be… with you, always. Even
when you are away”, I murmur softly, looking at him in the eye. “To be
your first thought, and your last, every day”.
He stops again. The clouds have covered the last gleam of sun, at est.
But even if the whole Arizona state woke up in a grey and gloomy
morning, this little, tiny corner of wet concrete feels brighter than a
hundred summer days. And the sky above us clear and blue.
We stare at each other without saying a word, while the rain keeps
falling. It hasn’t decreased in intensity, but heaven knows why it feels
so light. Gentle.
We smile. And after a few moments, together, we turn around.
The motel is 300 feet away, just visible through the veil of water. We
exchange one last glance, and, still grinning, we quicken our pace.
“Welcome. What can I do for…”.
The receptionist, until that moment bent over the papers scattered under
him, raises his gaze. He looks us up and down, then stands there gaping.
Standing a few steps away from the hall, drenched to the bone, dripping
and completely covered in dirt and mud, Orlando and I drop everything to
the ground. In a second, a sizeable puddle is forming around our
luggage, spreading out on the pastel-colored floor of the little room,
“We’d like a room. Double”. I specify, showing off my friendliest smile.
“Please, your best one”.
The other blinks a couple of times, finding it hard to close the
curiously heart-shaped little mouth.
“Ce… certainly, sirs”, he stutters, turning around to mechanically
search for a key among the ones hanging from a wall behind him and
slowly putting it on the counter. “And how long… will you be staying?”.
I quickly steal a glance at Orli. The curve of his mouth takes on an
eloquent crease, while his half-closed eyes are smiling along with his
lips. I turn back toward the owner.
“Oh, we really like Arizona. I believe… mmh, maybe even a couple of
weeks. Or three. You know, the desert is wide to visit on foot”.
The man widens his eyes, astonished.
“Excu… excuse me?”.
I wave an arm, and laugh.
“Oh, don’t worry… and don’t make that face”, I reassure him, bringing my
other hand around to the back pocket of my soggy pants to slip out a
wallet in the same exactly state. I put it on the counter causing a
funny, dull, watery noise. I smile again. “We’re paying with the credit
card. In advance”.
THE END
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