“I have always been yours,” I remind him. “You are my magnificent Sir.”
I love Sir, and I belong to Sir, but I will never be hisschiavo.I will only ever be a slave to one man, my beloved Master.
In the endwhen Master can no longer be moved from his bed and must rely on the oxygen tank to expand his lungs and a feeding tube to give him sustenance and even the strength it takes for him to open his eyes and gaze at me is nearly too much, I lie in bed with him and simply brush the hair from his forehead or hold his hand, pouring all of myself into those gentle touches and reassurances that he’s not alone, never alone.
I cry to Rebekah on the phone more often than I speak to her, and one day she says, “You need to give him permission, Giovanni.”
“Permission to do what?” I ask, befuddled because Master is so weak and helpless that he cannot do anything at all.
“You need to give him permission to go. He’s hanging on for you. You have to release him, so that he can be free. He has to know you’ll be okay without him.”
I wrestle with Rebekah’s advice as I often do. The idea that my care is what’s keeping Master here is novel to me. That I might be holding on so tightly that he cannot let go.I don’t want him to go,my inner child wails, but this is the moment when I must be selfless and put my Master first. I know the torture of feeling trapped, even if it’s by one’s own failing body. Master doesn’t want to leave hisschiavo,but he must.
“You can go now, Master,” I tell him with my cheek pressed against his concave chest and my arms wrapped around his frail body to hold him as much as I’m able. My words say one thing, but the way I cling to him says another. It’s the most I can manage right now. “You can go. Grandfather is waiting for you and your mother and your father. You can leave me now because I know you’ll always come back to me. That’s what you promised me, and I trust you, Master. You’ve always known what’s best for this slave.”
In between our other daily rituals, I remind him of this.
And then one morning, just after dawn when I used to rouse him from his slumber with worship, and Master would greet me with a warm smile and ask me how I slept the night before, he finally lets me go. I turn off his machines and remove the oxygen mask and all the other needles and tubes that have been keeping his body alive. I lock the door and crawl into bed with him, under the covers. I hold him to me as he used to hold me, and I cry like a baby.
I’ll endure this pain too because Master taught me how.
23
The funeral is a private affair held down at the beach. I decorate his body with flowers and the shells I’ve been collecting on my walks. Master will be buried here on the island as were his wishes, so that I may visit him whenever I want. He’s wearing the signet that represents the Aponte family business. He and grandfather can fight over it in death. I wish that I could hold his hand one last time and feel the pressure of his palm against my cheek, but his body is only an empty container now. I must remember this when the urge to lie with him in death takes hold.
Sir grips my shoulder and Evelina holds my hand during the ceremony. I read a letter that I penned to him a while ago, which recounts the virtues he has taught me and the ones he himself exemplified. I talk about the strength of the love he had for me, so fierce and unwavering that I was able to siphon some of it for myself, that I am a reflection of my Master and his own golden boy. I talk about what a great man he was, not only to me but to the many people he’s mentored and guided throughout his life.
Sir speaks too about Master being more than a brother to him, but a father figure and a dear friend. He promises to uphold the values he was taught and protect the legacy he inspired. He swears that he will care for all that which Master held dear, and I know this means me too.
Saying goodbye is as hard as it has always been for me. Sir helps me as best he can.
A few days later, the attorney comes to read Master’s last will and testament. With the exception of my instruments and the gifts he gave to me and the painting which Sir knows is mine already, Master has left all of his property and possessions to Sir.
“He left nothing to Giovanni?” Sir says, feeling incensed on my behalf. “Don’t worry, princess, I’ll make sure this is fixed.”
I raise my hand in an attempt to thwart Sir’s indignation. “If I may speak, Sir?” I ask, not wanting to be disrespectful to him in front of the attorney. He nods for me to continue. “I’m a wealthy man.” Probably richer even than Sir and Master’s fortunes combined, though I won’t mention it, as I wouldn’t want wealth to be for Sir what age was to my Master. “I told you before that Master’s gifts were mostly sentimental.”
Sir stares at me, shocked, and shakes his head in disbelief. “But I always thought…”
“I know.” Sir always thought I was a kept boy, for money or the promise of some big payoff when my term of service had concluded. He’s said many times that I am too young and beautiful for such an old man, and even when I was caring for Master in his last months, Sir urged me to let the nurses handle it and go “live my life.”I came back at him with such fury that he never mentioned it again.
It just goes to show that there are aspects of Master and my bond that Sir will never understand, and that’s probably for the best.
Later, after the lawyer leaves, Sir sits with me on the couch where we used to watch Napoli soccer games. “I know you’re dealing with a lot right now, Giovanni, so I don’t want to put any pressure on you, but I want you to know that you are welcome to stay here as long as you want. This is your home.” Sir is cautious with me now in a way he never was before. It makes me nervous that he may have changed his mind.
“And what do you want, Sir?” I ask, needing to hear it.
“I love you, and I want you to belong to me and me alone, but you are free to do whatever you want. We can be friends or lovers or Dominant and submissive. It’s up to you.”
“I want to belong to you, Sir. I’m not sure yet what that means, but that is my desire and something I’d like to explore with you further, when we’re both ready.”
Sir smiles and hugs me and tells me that’s all he’s ever wanted.
It’s what I want too, and more importantly, it’s what Master would have wanted for me.
Sir knowshow important my routines are to me, especially in dealing with my grief over Master’s passing, so it is not long after that he installs himself as man of the house. The furnishings and décor stay pretty much the same, and the only room Sir wishes to customize to his own specifications is the dungeon. I’ve been maintaining it for Master these past few months but going in there now gives me too much heartache, so when Sir asks my permission, I give him full authority to remake it how he sees fit.
Sir is slow to reignite our passions. For several weeks, we are mere bedmates who cuddle in the nighttime and in the mornings. Almost like brothers again, Sir is affectionate but not sexual, teasing in conversation and always trying to coax a rare smile. He knows that I need time to heal, and after so many months of serving Master in a platonic way, I must rediscover my own sexuality again.
