Benny & Ray
43
Boston
Wednesday
20
September 2000
23:35
Tonight we had a 40th
birthday party for Ray. It was a wonderful time, and so many people were there that I don’t think I can recount them
all. We held the party at the house since it could accommodate many more people
that our apartment. I met several of Ray’s cousins that I’d never
even heard of before; cousins once and twice removed, from both the Vecchio side and the Esposito side of the family; cousins
related by marriage, and even a few “unofficial” cousins. Valerie
was there, with your new girlfriend Katherine, whom Valerie referred to as Kit. Mother’s sister Marie-Therese also accompanied
her daughter.
All the Vecchio uncles except
for Lorenzo were there; Lorenzo was fighting pneumonia and was expected to be in the hospital for at least two more days.
I’m sorry that Lorenzo was sick, but I can’t say that I minded that he wasn’t there. Of all the family members
who knew about Ray and me, Lorenzo had been the most vocal in raising his objections.
It would be a peaceful night without him.
The Morettis and their children
were all in attendance of course, as was Francesca and her friends Michelle, Tricia, and Ursula. Ray seemed to go out of his
way to avoid Ursula; I’m not sure why but it may be worth asking later.
Elaine and Ike were there as well,
as was Jack Huey with a date named Jan Yates. Charles Caruthers also put in an
appearance, accompanied by Melissa MacGregor. I was delighted to see that Melissa
and Francesca seemed to immediately hit it off. They were similar in many ways. Seeing the two of them standing side-by-side, one would think that they were sisters.
Ray’s friends Jimmy and
Vinnie were also there, at Ray’s insistence. I wasn’t too comfortable
having them there, as I felt they were both a bad influence on Ray, but I couldn’t very well say no when Ray asked me
to invite them. At least that Tommy DeBenedetto wasn’t there. Ray knew better than to ask me to invite him, or even so much as to mention his name, as it was still somewhat
of a sore spot.
We had a backyard barbeque, and
had two gas grills going. We were graced with a warm evening, so it was a perfect
time to be out of doors.
Beer, burgers, dogs, and Italian
sausages were in good supply, as were the traditional Italian antipasti, three kinds of lasagna, chicken scarpariello, ravioli,
chicken marsala, baked ziti, zuppa Toscana, three polenta dishes, gnocchi, and
pasta fagioli. No wonder Mother took two days prior to the party off! She made
most of the dishes, but Maria, Francesca, and I also helped. (I made the meat
lasagna and the baked ziti, which came out rather well, if I may admit.)
Torta di Nonna, Tiramisu, pistachio
spumoni, zeppole, gelato and truffles were served as desserts.
There was plenty of Italian wine,
Limoncello, Grappa, Anisette, Sambuca, and Amaretto to put everybody under the table.
Tony in particular, got quite sloshed I’m afraid. Good thing he
didn’t have anywhere to drive; he was barely able to crawl upstairs later and go to bed, and even then, Maria had to
help him.
Some of the guys from the Y with
also showed up at various times to say hello, grab a free beer or two, and leave; Bruno, Pauly C, Pauly Z, Little Vinnie,
Big Vinnie, Domenic, Dimitri, Short Petey, Long Petey, Big Ray, and Franco all of whom addressed me as ‘Benny’,
each put in an appearance this evening. By the end of the evening, EVERYONE was calling me ‘Benny’.
I bought my guitar along, a spur
of the moment request from Ray. I told him that I didn’t think that I knew
any songs appropriate for such a happy occasion and he only smiled and told me to bring it along anyway. I played for him “Melissa” by the Allman Brothers,
“Allison” by Elvis Costella, “Free Fallin’ “ by Tom Petty, and “Yesterday” by The
Beatles. He was grinning from ear to ear at having his own private concert. I
was happy to do it for him.
Our friend Bruno surprised everyone
by asking for my guitar and proceeded to sing a damned good version of Frank Sinatra’s “My Way,” to cheers
and applause. How very interesting. No
one even knew he could play a musical instrument. Bruno replied that he certainly
could do something besides play bad basketball at the YMCA every Friday. It’s just that no one ever asked him about
himself. Wow. Next time I see him,
I’ll have to remember to do a lot more asking. There certainly was more to him than met the eye.
Ray received lots of presents,
ranging from large to small. From ties and socks, to gift certificates and clothes,
to homemade art pieces from his nephews and niece, to gold jewelry. Mother got
him a beautiful watch, Francesca bought him every CD that the band “War” had ever put out, and Maria and Tony
presented him with tickets to a comedy show. One of the Paulys and one of the
Vinnys presented him with a gag gift-a really awful looking toupee, complete with matching sideburns and mustache. And sunglasses to top it all off. Ray wore his hair pieces and shades for the rest of the evening, commenting
that he rather liked the look. He reminded himself of a 70’s porn star.
“How would you know what
a 70’s porn star looks like Ray?” I asked.
“Uuhhh….well, that’s
just what I’ve heard,” he said, abashedly. I only shook my head, and Ray shrugged apologetically.
I waited until the end to give
him my present. I handed him two American airlines tickets- O’Hare to Boston
non-stop. Ray stared at me as though not quite understanding. “Actually, they’re from your brother and me. We
leave in the morning.” Ray hugged me, first kissing my mouth, there in
front of God and everyone. If anybody had any doubts about the nature of my and
Ray’s relationship—well, there was no longer any doubt at all after that!
After everyone but family left,
I played for Ray our song, “How Deep is Your Love?” “Are you
trying to make me cry, Benny?” he had asked, tearing up and blinking rapidly.
Ray and I arrived home an hour
ago, stuffed and exhausted. We both had a nightcap of Alka-Seltzer, but not before
I gave him one more present. For our birthdays and Christmas, Ray and I always
gave each other some kind of sexual gift; we’d do something for the other that we wouldn’t normally do. I may probably regret committing this to paper, but I let him spank me tonight. It wasn’t a turn-on for me, but Ray rather enjoyed himself, which is what mattered. He’s indulged me in some much weirder things that I will definitely not be committing to paper, so
being spanked seemed rather pale in comparison.
We later attempted a new sexual
position called “The Pile Driver” but it rather hurt my neck, so we aborted, reverted back to some tried and true
techniques. Ray is such an amazing lover.
To think I was with him for three years before knowing his touch seems incomprehensible to me. I love Ray so very much.
Thursday
21 September
22:00
Arrived safe and sound in Boston
Logan, where Paul met us curbside, and drove us back to his wonderful
little two bedroom condominium in nearby Charlestown. He lives on
Sullivan Street, and has a view of Bunker
Hill Monument outside of his kitchen window.
After freshening up a bit, we
took a walk to the subway, their “T”, to Boston’s
North End, which is quite famous for its northern Italian cuisine. We dined at
a very upscale Italian restaurant in the city’s Little Italy.
Dinner was very pleasant. The
food was delicious. I really gained quite a bit of insight into Paul, here on his home turf.
When he first came back to Chicago, I found him to be rather
reserved, cautious. But here in familiar territory, he was more comfortable, relaxed, and open. He talked a little about his job as a pharmacist for a Rhode Island
based pharmacy called “CVS”, and his life here. How he felt he became
a different person- his own man- by getting away from his parents.
Paul and I actually shared very
similar interests in art and history, science, and music. He was obviously very
intelligent and educated. He demonstrated that he was extremely well-read.
Paul shared some fascinating stories
about growing up in the same household as my boyfriend. Most of them were happy
stories from their early childhood, and a few were not. I could tell that Paul
was very carefully editing out the worse of the events for my benefit. He need
not have bothered. Over the years, Ray had told me everything. About the beatings, the bruises, the verbal abuse, and alcohol abuse and gambling addiction. I hated Sal Vecchio. I hated him for what he had done to my
Ray. Sometimes I wished he was still alive, so that I could exact a little vigilante
justice myself, to make him pay for hurting Ray, and for hurting Paul. It’s
a good thing he is not still around, for my sake, as I’d probably be in prison for the things I’d do to him if
I could.
Tomorrow, we have a day planned
of touring the Freedom Trail and the various sites alongside it. Paul has promised to point out to me the location of where
Paul Revere began his “midnight ride”. He is going to take us to Faneuil Hall, the site of the Boston
Tea Party, and Boston Common.
Once he learned of my love of art, he also added to the itinerary the Isabella
Stewart Gardner Museum
and the Museum of Fine Arts.
On Sunday, he said that we perhaps could squeeze in a side trip to the Lexington and Concord area, to Minute Man State Park,
Thoreau’s cabin at Walden Pond, and Louisa May Alcott’s Orchard House. Fascinating
stuff!
I’d better get to bed. It’s been a long day of traveling today, and Ray and I didn’t get much
sleep last night either, so both need to recharge our batteries.
24 September
Sunday
21:00
Well, after a bit of a capricious
day, Ray and I find ourselves in a lovely house in Provincetown Massachusetts.
Last night, sitting with Paul
on the rooftop deck of his building, he brought up the topic of Ray, me, and our relationship.
I sensed that he was feeling me out to see if this was a committed thing, and I assured him it was and that Ray and
I in fact had begun the legal process of making each other of the beneficiary of the other’s will, and that I had signed
over to Ray rights as my health care proxy and gave him Power of Attorney in the event that I am unable to make such decisions
for myself. He cautiously asked me about the house on Octavia, and I assured him that the house would stay in their family
and would fall to Maria and her children in the event of Ray’s death. He absorbed all this quietly, nodding. He asked if we had encountered a lot of homophobia, and I said that we hadn’t. “I’m sure the fact that you’re both cops has something to do with it.” He said. I agreed in part.
He asked if I knew about “P-Town”,
as he called it, and if we would be interested in going. He stated that it was
a renowned artist colony, and was also known as being a very gay-friendly town, in addition to being breath-takingly beautiful,
jutting out far into the Atlantic Ocean as it was.
There was a woman he had seen
a couple of times whose family had a summer home there. She was there every weekend
in July, August, and September. She had extended an open invitation to him to
come for a visit, any weekend he wanted. There were plenty of bedrooms, and the property was only a block from the ocean.
He had often wanted to go, but he didn’t want to make it appear that he was more serious about her than he was, so he
had declined up until now. He said that if we didn’t mind, now would be
a good time to visit her, under the pretense of showing Ray and me around. He
also said that many gay and lesbian couples vacationed there, along with families with young children and elderly retired
couples, and everyone mixed in a very friendly way.
I must admit that I jumped at
the chance to be with Ray, to hold his hand in public and not feel self-conscious. But
I wasn’t sure if Ray would agree with me. Ray had never wanted anything
to do with gay culture or society; but maybe being away from home, away from the influence of friends and family, he’d
feel differently.
In fact, he did. And so Ray and I, Emelia and Paul spent a warm leisurely Sunday morning strolling down the streets of Provincetown,
window shopping art, antiques and clothing, all while holding hands.
We parted ways after a late lunch,
promising to meet again for dinner. We did encounter several gay couples, holding
hands, kissing, or simply being together. I suppose we got caught up in the moment,
“rightness” of it all, because late in the day, Ray and I found ourselves in a boutique. We bought matching rings. Ray slipped them both in the pocket of his shorts, and we continued on
our way.
Ray and I ended up on a beach
overlooking Cape Cod Bay at sundown, and watched the sun settle over the horizon. He removed the thin gold bands from his right pocket.
He slipped mine on my left ring finger, and gazed at me. His eyes glowed
in the sun’s rays and appeared to be backlit. It was almost eerie. I slipped
his on the same finger. Neither one of use spoke, awed and overwhelmed by what
we had just done. Words would have diminished the feeling.
My husband and I sat on the beach
and kissed, and at that moment, I felt such powerful love for Ray, gazing into his green eyes, that my heart constricted powerfully
in my chest. We almost made love then and there on the beach; it was tempting,
as the beach was now mostly deserted aside from a few painters who were far off in the distance.
We met Paul and Emelia at for
ocean-side meal of lobster and steak. Paul noticed our new rings. He ordered
a bottle of champagne and put up a toast to us. I thought it was the kindest,
most loving thing he could have done for his brother.
We made an early evening of it,
and retired to Emelia’s house. We went upstairs, and the other couple stayed
downstairs and made a fire to ward off the night chill.
Ray and I did it on the floor
of our assigned bedroom, on a towel, so as not to make any noise or make a mess of the sheets. It was incredibly intense. Ray gave me the longest and most powerful orgasm I’d ever had in my life tonight.
Tomorrow, we return to our lives
in Chicago, and I am a little sad about that. I love this place as much as I enjoy our cabin in Yellowknife. I will never forget Provincetown. Something spiritual happened here today.
I’d like to come back. Maybe we could alternate between here and Yellowknife
each year. I will bring it up to Ray in the morning. Now he sleeps.
And now I shall join him in slumber. We have to leave here at 06:00,
and will be taking a ferry from here to Boston, and from there,
a water taxi directly to Logan Airport.
We will land at O’Hare at 14:20. We will make love in our own
bed tonight. In our marriage bed.
