“Music’s great.” The truth was that he’d grown used to it by now, Hank always having the radio running in the background, a cozy backdrop to their daily activities in the cabin.
“Cool,” Henry beamed, disappearing behind the counter, hooking up his phone to a loudspeaker in the corner. “Hope you don’t mind Italian. I’m kinda in my Italian era now. Trying to convince Colton to come to Europe with me,” he chatted away. “But gettin’ that man out of Nebraska is like gettin’ a rhino through a keyhole, you know what I mean?” he asked rhetorically before continuing, his voice all chipper. “I guess he’s like his uncle that way. I swear, those two are more like twins when it comes to their stubborn ways, dontcha think?” Finn nodded while Henry came up for air. “So, I’m tryin’ to expose him to Europe, you know? This week, it’s Italian. Food, music, movies,” he blushed.
“Italian?” Finn laughed. “Sure, why not? I could use a break from Hank’s country music or old-school blues.” Henry laughed loudly, too.
“Oh my God, yes! Exactly. This is country music country for sure.” He bobbed his head as the music started spilling from the loudspeaker. “Prego!” He snapped his fingers. “Italian it is.”
It was like being catapulted back in time, Finn recognizing the opening chords immediately. He knew that song by heart, the haunting nature of the melody, and the melancholic edge to the singer’s voice. A song of the past. About the past. About that magical moment when you feel the whole world in your soul. Cara had explained the song to him before he’d recorded her dancing to it—more like fucking flying to it—in her dance studio in the basement of their parents’ house. It was the video she’d ended up sending to New York. The video that had gotten her accepted to the school of her dreams.
‘Why this song, Cara?’
‘Because it’s… it’s what I want to show with my dance. With my body. What I’ve always wanted to show.’
‘It’s beautiful. What is she singing about? Do you know?’
‘Uhm…’
‘What? Why are you laughing? Oh shit, is it a naughty song, sis?’
‘Yeah. Of course, it is! It’s Italian…’
‘For fuck’s sake.’
‘But it’s not so much the words themselves.’
‘Yeah, right!’
‘No. It’s more the feeling that the writer was trying to convey. You know… When you’ve just been with someone, and there’s this sort of… you know, magic in the air. And you don’t know where it’s coming from, and it vanishes almost as soon as you realize it’s there.’
‘Sex? Am I seriously talking to my baby sister about sex?’
‘Stop it! I’m a grown-ass woman in case you didn’t notice.’
‘I guess… Though I hate it. You growing up. Means I’m getting older, too.’
‘You’re not even thirty yet. Stop whining and let me tell you about the song.’
‘Fiiine.’
‘So, yeah. It’s about sex. But he couldn’t write it like that. Explicitly. It was the 60s after all, in a Catholic country. The writer explained that it was, you know, the aftermath of a casual encounter, but… I don’t know. It’s more, I think.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘Paoli, the writer, explained it as his way of capturing that moment where you understand that you are nobody, but there’s the whole world in your soul.’
‘The whole world in your soul?’
‘Yeah, I mean, he was, of course, an Italian man in the 1960s referring to post-orgasmic bliss after some random hookupwith a lady of the night, but there’s just something about it, don’t you think? The idea of losing yourself. Either in a dance or in music or in someone else. Just for a fleeting moment.’
Shit. He’d never really understood what Cara had meant. The idea had been such a foreign concept to him. When he’d been with a lover, he’d always wanted to be anywhere else. He’d never once lost himself with Teddy, although they’d been together the longest. That essence she’d spoken of always eluded him. That moment, where you lose yourself but gain the entire world in return, was so incomprehensible to him. So unattainable. Only now, he knew. Now he fucking knew, didn’t he? Every fucking moment with Hank was like that, wasn’t it?
“Not again, sweetheart,” a deep voice boomed from the front door. “You tryin’ to brainwash Finn too?” Finn caught himself, quickly sweeping at the treacherous tears he hadn’t realized were trailing down his cheeks.
“Amore mio, you’re early!” Henry called out, moving hurriedly from behind the counter, then half-dancing, half-skipping across the waiting room towards Colton. Leaning against the door frame, arms crossed in front of his coveralls-covered chest, the mechanic grinned, “Not thatspaghetti-rhymes-with-confettimusic again,” he groaned.
“You know you secretly love it,” Henry chuckled, throwing his arms around Colton’s shoulders, the older guy’s face softening immediately. “It’samore, Caro,” Henry cooed.
“Il Cielo in una Stanza,” Finn blurted, Henry stopping before he could smack a kiss against his fiancé’s lips, a puzzled frown on his face. Getting up from the couch, eyes cast down, Finn headed for the door, grabbing his parka and Hank’s red scarf from the hanger on the way out.
