Dario shakes his head as he finishes tempering the chocolate. “That’s a hard thing for a young person to have to go through.”
“It was. I gave up on guys in any serious way after that. Working, taking care of my grandparents, and my illustrations keep me plenty busy,” he says.
“You do more illustrations like the one you submitted for the contest?” Dario asks.
“Tons more. I post them online as tattoo inspiration, for myself and others. My dream is to one day become a tattoo apprentice at a real parlor so I can learn the trade and tattoo myart on others,” Charlie says, eager to share more now that he’s gotten the Max incident off his chest.
“I’d love to see these tattoo designs while you’re here,” Dario says. “But first, I should find Beau and we should begin molding our bonbons. Talk more later?”
“I’d like that,” Charlie says, spirit renewed.
ELEVEN
DARIO
In his mess of a morning, Dario forgot to read his grandfather’s letter.
Post chocolate-making lesson and another scrumptious dinner under the stars with his suitors, he sits at the desk in the barn house while Angelo gulps down his own dinner from a noisy, nearby bowl. Dario opens the next envelope in the series.
Caro Tesorino,
Sharing knowledge is an underrated love language.
Every Cotogna has learned the precious art of crafting chocolate, no matter what part of the business they go into. It is a way of linking to our history through our hands.
Take careful note of those who treat the task with interest. Not seriousness. Seriousness can be feigned. Interest cannot. Interest lives in the eyes, the open ears, the posture that says ‘I’m ready to learn.’
If they are willing to learn about Amorina and the storied art of chocolate making, they are willing to learn about you, tesorino. Have faith that, as in the chocolate tempering process, like crystals link together to create the creamy, rich treat of love, the right ones will flock to you and follow your example.
Has anyone caught your eye? If an interdimensional postal service has been founded since my passing, do write. Sono sulle spine!
His grandfather’s words leap off the page and into the air. He closes his eyes and manifests his nonno’s voice in the room. Missing him hasn’t gotten any easier, but these letters have been such a salve.
To avoid a hearty cry, he pulls a sensible, one-piece men’s swimsuit from his wardrobe and dons a swim cap to keep his hair healthy and free of chemicals. A late-night swim will clear his mind as it always does. And if he sheds a tear or two, his face will be too wet to notice.
As he steps outside, a splash from the pool deck surprises him. Someone else must have had the same idea as him. Minus the crying part. As he gets closer, Charlie’s slim, tattooed frame shows beneath the surface of the water, gliding from one end of the pool to the other in the honeyed light.
Relief caught him by the toe when Charlie accepted his apology during the chocolate lesson. From his nonno, he learned early that when mistakes are made, apologies must not be withheld. Damage done to a relationship must be tended to with swiftness, otherwise, the mold of misunderstanding festers until the whole thing must be thrown out with the trash.
He treasures how honest Charlie was with him earlier about high school and that Max fellow. It makes him want to snap off a part of himself like a square of chocolate to share with Charlie.
Charlie holds his breath for a long time, becoming fishlike beneath the soft ripple of the water. Dario submerges slowly. As soon as Charlie comes up for air, he lets out a yelp.
“Scusi. I did not mean to scare you,” Dario says.
Charlie glances from his face to his chest. “Are you wearing a wetsuit?”
“It is a one-piece,” Dario says. Made of black material, the swimsuit has short sleeves and legs that stop above the knee. Around his middle is a white band, and above is a quarter-zipper that he keeps drawn all the way up.
“Once again, I feel severely underdressed,” Charlie says with a nervous-sounding laugh, glancing away. Dario tracks his eyes to the pool deck, where a wet pair of swim trunks lie crumpled in a ball.Is he…
“Naked,” Dario says aloud without thinking.Smooth. Real smooooooth.
Charlie moves to grab them. “Sorry. I didn’t think anyone would be out here this late. I will put them back on—”
“No!”
“No?” Charlie stops, quirking a questioning eyebrow.
