Sottopassaggio by Nick Alexander

wife and kids you know?”
    I nod. “I can see that.”
    â€œBut when he was
touring
it was hard because sometimes his wife would come and visit …”
    I frown. “When he was touring?” I ask. “What didhe
do
?”
    Antonio licks a finger and smoothes an eyebrow. It’s a strange gesture. Out of place.
    â€œHe’s a dancer,” he says.
    My world stops. I stare wide-eyed at Antonio. He simply stares back.
    â€œWhat?” he asks me eventually. “You don’t think dancers can be straight? I can tell you that the majority …”
    â€œHugo
Damiano
?” I say.
    Antonio’s eyes widen. “How do you know that?” he asks.
    I shake my head and blink.
    â€œHow do you know that?” he repeats.
    I smile in confusion. “I dated him,” I say.
    Antonio shakes his head. “I don’t think so,” he says. “He only dated me. He’s straight.”
    I shrug. “Well I dated him,” I say. “For 9 months.”
    Antonio frowns and shakes his head. “No,” he says. “You didn’t.”
    â€œHe had a
Ducati
motorbike,” I say.
    Antonio shakes his head. “No,” he says again. “It can’t be the same …”
    â€œAnd two cats,” I continue. “Garam and Masala.”
    Antonio frowns and pales a little. “OK, you know him,” he says. “But you didn’t date him. I don’t believe you.”
    I rub the bridge of my nose. “Antonio. I went out with him for
nine
months.”
    Antonio shakes his head and shrugs. “I’m sorry,” he says.
    Tom frowns at me, then at Antonio. “Hey, Antonio. If Mark says he did …”
    â€œBut he has a
wife
?” I say. “Is that
true
? Are you
sure
?”
    Antonio shakes his head. “It can’t be the same guy.”
    â€œDid you
see
his wife?”
    Antonio nods. “Sure, and his kids. You see; it’s not the same person.”
    I look at Tom. He’s biting his bottom lip, looking from one to the other, excited yet perplexed.
    â€œLook. Antonio,” I say. “I don’t want to get vulgar or anything.”
    He looks vacantly at me.
    â€œBut his dick,” I say. “Well, it’s big, and it curves to the right. It’s really big. And it curves a
lot
,” I add.
    Antonio stares at me wide eyed. His eyes start to glisten.
    We sit in silence for a moment, each trying to reassemble the truth.
    Tom speaks first, rubbing Antonio’s shoulder. “Why is this so important though?” he asks, a worried tone creeping into his voice.
    He looks back at me and stretches his fingers. “Why?”
    I can tell that I’m flushing red as my anger mounts. “It’s just a bit of a shock,” I explain.
    Antonio looks up. “Yes,” he agrees. “His car was a VW, a Beetle back then, right?”
    I nod. “A white one. It never worked.”
    Antonio nods.
    Tom shrugs. “But so what?” he says.
    â€œIt’s a shock,” I say. “To find out someone you loved, someone you spent time with lied.” I shake my head still absorbing the truth of it all. “To learn that anyone can lie
that much
.”
    Tom nods at me blankly, then looks back at Antonio who has slumped over the table, his forehead resting on his hands.
    It’s the missing information, without which our break-up could never make any sense, and without that sense, all relationships since have been compromised.
    If you learn that someone can get up and walk away from the best relationship you’ve ever had; if you learn that apparently for no reason, anything, no matter how good it is, can just
end
, well, it makes it hard to believe, hard to trust, hard to truly give yourself over to building anything ever again.
    But there
was
a reason, a reason for the mysterious trips with his brother, a reason for the private phone calls, and ultimately a reason why he