12 — Cogli Lo Spino
October 13, 1938
"So, you gonna come or what?"
"Hmm?"
Burt looked up from his book and saw that Carmine had returned from the bedroom, pipe in hand.
"Are you comin' to the party on the 29th? I asked at dinner, you said you'd say later..."
"Oh, of course I'm going to the party. Just don't know what on earth I'll do for a costume."
"We'll figure somethin' out," Carmine sighed, reaching for the tobacco tin.
Burt tried to go back to his reading, grateful for only the sounds of the apartment as distraction. He'd wanted to get through this book for a while, but lunch breaks at work were impossibly noisy, and lately he and Carmine had friends around to the apartment quite a bit, leading to much laughter and conversation.
Now, there was only the dull ticking of the clock, the faint ss-c-crtch, s-crh of the matches Carmine struck to light his pipe, and some creaking from the building.
It was peaceful.
It was cozy.
It was boring as hell, because he had realized a week ago that this book wasn't his style, but he could never allow himself not to finish.
Fidgeting in his chair, Burt blinked hard a time or two, then closed the book snappishly and tossed it onto the deal table.
"Y'okay?" Carmine murmured.
"Mmm. Just... Just rather bored."
"Wanna go out?"
"No."
"Wanna call some of the guys up?"
"No," Burt sighed.
"Ya wanna..."
Carmine trailed off, and when Burt looked to him, he was waggling his eyebrows impressively and nodding toward the bedroom.
"Well," Burt said, standing, "I think I might just be persuaded."
He made his way delicately across the room, stopping before Carmine's chair to stretch his arms wantonly heavenward. Carmine, meanwhile, was busily tapping out his barely-smoked pipe onto the little jade tray.
"Come on, then," Burt grinned, reaching out a hand.
Carmine took the offer, stood, and allowed himself to be led, dreamy-eyed, to bed.
Somewhere in the building, maybe on a radio, a jazz band was playing intermittently. Elsewhere, a child cried out, crockery crashed, and through the near wall, in 406, a bed squeaked frantically.
The bed in 408 was, for now, silent. Pauline lay, confused but happy, in Nunzia's arms.
"Did it hurt?" Nunzia whispered.
"A little. At first."
"I'm sorry. It's new, I'm not used to..."
"It's all right," Pauline smiled, and shifted a little so that she could stroke Nunzia's cheek.
"We... We didn't have to do it, you know. Not if you didn't want."
"I wanted to. I did. And besides, you were so lovely before we got to that part..."
The words died out in a wave of kisses. By the time it passed, Pauline felt almost too warm, and she let a foot slip out from under the blanket.
"Wanna go to a party?" Nunzia grinned.
"Right now?"
"Nah, oca. Later on. End of the month. My folks throw a big thing just before Hallowe'en most years. Costume party."
"Oh. Well, it does sound nice, but would they approve? I mean, of you bringing me?"
In the dark, Nunzia half-shrugged.
"I can invite who I want. They'll just think you're a friend."
"Am I?" Pauline murmured.
"Just a friend, I mean."
"Oh, principessa, you're far more than a friend. Still, what my parents don't know..."
Pauline kissed Nunzia quick, then nodded against the pillow.
"I'll go. Only, well, what sort of costume should I wear?"
"Oh, I got thoughts on that. But we can talk about it later on. For now, I'm kinda gettin' tired."
"Are you?"
"A little."
"I'm not," Pauline said, and her hand was moving saucily under the covers.
"Well," Nunzia said, "I don't see why I can't stay awake a little while longer."
Posted Oct 12, 2019, 6:22 AM UTC · edited