How to Make You Quiet
by Elizabeth Farren
It's as if no one's been in this kitchen for weeks. The drawer knobs are sticky and the refrigerator barren except for rotting ham. The water boils and she dunks a bag of chamomile in the cup, carries a tray full of tea and cookies to Lolo's bedroom.
Lolo's house; Lolo sneezing, coughing, his parents away in Sestriere. Colleen has come to care as Lolo lies feverish in bed, wearing a pink nightshirt with teddy bears in hoola hoops and candy canes.
Nice shirt, she laughs.
This? and Lolo points to his chest. Oh, this is from mamma. When I am born, mamma always buyed me the rose shirts. Still today.
Poor bimbo Lolo, and she sits down at his side. Or should I say Lola?
You want I spit in your face?
Lolo is made light pink- pink bassinets, knickers, blankets -- his mother's baby toy, second to his brother, Alessandro. His mother rocks bimbo Lolo over her shoulder and lies him down to sleep in pink sheets, pats him down, sprinkles kisses on his forehead. Sweet Lolo, my pink heart.
Alessandro is four at Lolo's birth and howls joyously at the silly powder puff booties. When Lolo can walk, Alessandro socks him to bits.
Was it a mistake, Lolo? Did the doctors say you'd be a girl?
No. No mistake. Can you give me the tea? I feel dying.
Sergio, Lolo's father, comes home at six a.m. -- a man's night out, eʼ vero Sergio sleeps around while his wife's nursing, supermarket shopping, and making beds. When Sergio comes home late, he takes the bimbo into the crook of his arm so he can show his wife that he remembers how precious young life is-how Lolo's mother can't do it without him, can she?
See how he calms down, he says. Figlio mio. My boy will be great one day. But why are you dressing him in pink, Ilaria?
Lolo's brother, Alessandro, calls peach the color of young 'finocchi,' so when Lolo is three, his mother starts shopping navy, royal, and indigo. Lolo cries. Lolo sucks his thumbs and wets his bed until he is ten. Capriccioso, Lolo, he whines his way down supermarket aisles, he is naughty by nursery school standards.
Lolo e' difficile. Lolo doesn't want to share. Lolo screams in the kitchen, Voglio latte,, he wants milk and bangs on the table, hyperventilates.
Latte, voglio latte, Papa' Papa', latte.
His father storms in and drags Lolo by the ear to the den. Lolo kicks and drools in hysteria. His father knees Lolo into the couch, and dangles a leather belt over his rear.
Stai zitto, Lorenzo! Subito! He whips and hisses zitto until Lolo falls mute.
I'm always suffer and difficult, you see, Colleen. No one controls Lolo. No one My papa' learned only how to make me quiet.
I'll be home at midnight, Sergio tells her.
At two a.m., Ilaria sits up in bed with Lolo beside her.
Bastardo! What does it take to make a phone call? At night, his mother weeps and sometimes even throws picture frames at the wall.
But no, Colleen, I will always love Papa'. Papa' knows what is the man, what makes the man. What I don't like was my mother's suffer, my mother always in bed. But the most bad were the nights.
Lolo and Alessandro sneak out of the bunk bed in pajamas because they hear groans, mewls-voices and the moan of Mamma in pain.
Mamma! They peek through the beveled glass doors to the living room and see bodies lying on the floor. Lolo reaches for the doorknob and Alessandro slaps him back. Mamma and Papa' are naked on top of two strangers. Run away! Corre!
Help me, says Lolo. My neck is hurt. Colleen fluffs his pillow.
Better? she asks.
No, and he pulls the pillow out from under his head. Who teaches you to make the pillow?
Let things go, Lo. Could I crawl in next to you?
No, it's hot.
Antipatico. Dick, she says. He squints back sullenly.
Ma come mi tratti? I'm so sick. He pulls his covers up to his neck.
What you want, Colleen? One second, you come here for take care of me, next second you want the story from my life ... you want my bed.
You're not nice, she says and walks out of the room, passes the glass door to his living room. She sits on the couch and waits for him to call her back to his room. He doesn't call.
She leaves and says no goodbye. She returns to her apartment, her room, where she closes the door, the windows, le serrande. In the dark, she takes off her clothes and reaches for her cell phone. Once she finds LOLO in the address book, she clicks EDIT and backspaces his name, then types DON'T ANSWER in its place.
Next morning, DON'T ANSWER rings. She doesn't answer. Instead, she calls back thirty minutes later.
Cosa vuoi? she asks.
I'm waiting for you last night, he says. You never called me back into the room. You have no respect. Next time I call Silvia to care me.
I waited half an hour, she snaps. Who's Silvia?
Ah, ah, ah! See. I can always make you jealous when I want.
Thanks.
Come back to my house tonight. Vieni, Colleen. Vieni. Please, I still feel dying.
Lolo is thirteen and his cousin, Lucia, ten and dangling from a tree swing. Lolo sneaks up from behind and throws Lucia forward, thumps her down on the ground. She yelps and brushes off the dust.
Mascalzone , cretino! She calls him nasty names and. shoves him in the chest. He shoves her by the shoulders and she falls on the grass, pulling Lolo by the shirt on top of her. They roll and tug, arm-scratch until Lolo pulls down her pants.
Mascalzone !
Lucia pulls down Lolo's pants in revenge.
Fatto, she taunts, and he crouches and flings himself onto her.
Che cretino, via! Che fai ? Via! She eventually kicks him off, but not before he pins her to a tree trunk and thrusts himself into her small sex.
So, I gave off the virginity at thirteen.
Lolo and Colleen are in his single bed beneath the linens.
Your cousin wasn't angry? Colleen asks.
No, for nothing. We do the sex many times after. My neck. Aya...ay. Colleen, van ora. Go to the closet, he says. Get the nother little bed. Vai!
When she opens the closet door to look for the lettino, she finds dusty tennis rackets, posters of tennis stars, DJ equipment.
I didn't know you were a DJ, she says.
For much long time ago. You know, I can sing the rapper's delight for you. To da heep heep hop, a your don't stoppa rock it, to da banger banger boogie, say up jump da boogie. skeedl ee beep pop a scoobie doo and guessa what America we love you!
A DJ for four years of cocaine and fucking leggy adolescenti in miniskirts. Every night a different woman drapes over the DJ booth; Lolo turns and lifts her skirt to see if she's wearing underwear or not.
Noble women. Famous women. He drives there up to the Gianicolo to see the city glow, and then they fuck in the car, covered by leafage and berry bushes. He doesn't know their names.
This was the dark years of my life making a DJ. Cosi' brutti.
Lolo turns off the lights as Colleen struggles to find a comfortable niche in the sloping cot next to his bed. Why so dark? she whispers.
A long story. Buona notte. He rolls onto his side. Giovanni saved me then. Giovanni is the person who gave me my life. Everything. We talk in the morning.
Lolo is already at his desk, when Colleen wakes. The bedroom is bright with the blinds lifted; out the window, the tip of a cypress tree rises in sunlight; laundry lines dip from window to window. Lolo is reading email.
Good morning, she says.
Buon giorno. Can I tell you something?
Mmmm. She deflects the sunlight with the back of her hand.
It is something important. Something you must to know.
Is it nine? Le nove? She stretches her legs into the light, lowers her head.
Colleen, I want to explain to you a thing very important of me. I want that you come with me. I have not so much time, because I must to go to the gallery.
Hold. She walks into the bathroom, closes the door.
You listen? he calls after her.
In the university chapel Lolo kneels on a marble floor and imagines moonlight lengthening on the sea. He prays for light, because he doesn't know what else to pray for; his parents haven't taught him to pray, and they've never taken hire to church.
Giovanni taps him on the shoulder. How do you feel?
I don't even know who I'm praying for, Father.
You will, Giovanni says. Lolo's face is gray after a night of spinning and touching women, snorting.
You are Lorenzo, yes? Come with me into the chapel of light. Giovanni takes his hand and leads him past pews and candles through a dark passageway into a chapel. Sunlight slants into the apse and illuminates a gold altar. Three young men in suits stand up from their chairs to shake Lolo's hand. Lolo shies away front the men's stares.
I must go. Thank you for you showing me this.
Please. Giovanni takes hold of Lolo's shoulders. You must stay in this chapel of light, if only to observe for an hour or so. The light will soothe you, my son. You may be a sinner, but you do not deserve to suffer for your sins. You are forgiven. You are safe here, warm. When you are ready, we will make you a family.
Follow, Colleen.
Lolo leads her through a beaded doorway onto his terrace. Roma sprawls with glare and maritime pines, angled roofs, reflections on aluminum. Cars zip around and their wake of smoke clings to the horizon.
Guarda qua. He points to an outdoor shed-a closet. She glances in I want to show you..
Lolo follows Giovanni into his underground chamber -- a humid room with a table, two chairs, a cot and a refrigerator.
Would you like some wine, my son? Sit please.
Giovanni pours the wine into small plastic cups, hands a cup to Lolo. Alla salute.
They sip and make eye contact.
Now that you have seen our chapel and met our altar boys, you can be part of our family, says Giovanni. And believe me, we will never abandon you . . . and though you are free, and may abandon us whenever you like, we will never do so to you. We will bring you safety, love, and hope. We will be your family, but only if you want. I hope this is not too much for you to comprehend now. Lie down here, my son.
Lolo lies supine on the cot and is calm, as if readying for a massage of the temples, the shoulders. Giovanni switches off the lights.
Don't be frightened, my son. I do this because in the dark, only He can tell if you are true. Are you comfortable with secrets? With keeping secrets?
Yes, says Lolo. Of course.
Good, Giovanni whispers. Very good. Your time here must be kept secret.
Come inside, says Lolo.
Colleen steps tenaciously into the mildewed closet and can't make out objects, or even imagine what might be there-a broom, old pots, pans, laundry stands and clips. The door shuts.
Lolo, she says.
When they ask you whom you're with, you are with friends. Do not tell them we are your family. Only you can know that we are your family.
Yes, Father.
When they tell you that we are wrong, that we are trying to change your mind. . . . you can remind them that you are always free to be wherever you want to be, with whom you want to be. No one will stop you.
Yes, Father.
So, when they tell you we are crazy, they are envious, have pity for them. They do not understand how much He loves us, or how much we love Him. Do not be dissuaded. Feel pity.
Is very small, I know. Have you got the claustrophobia?
No, but I don't like this. Please open up. Colleen knocks on the door.
I want that you stay because only He can see if you are true or the false.
Apri, Lolo! I don't need to be true or false, she says.
Please, he begs. You can abandon me after I open, I promise. But now, you stay until I say.