Page 62 - Litteratteur Redefining World December issue

Litterateur redefining world December 2020

William closed his eyes in Roberto’s embrace: Just get it over with you closet fag.
He felt some of the older man’s sweat brush onto his cheek, filling his nostrils with
scent, and then he was released.

You made it again, up the track, no turning back, yes? Such a good boy! You have
everything we need, yes? We are ready for real work now! The real work. And you
will stay, make the wine and then you can go, if you like. Or if you want you can
stay, see what autumn brings.

William rubbed the back of his neck, stepped away to be free of Roberto. He looked
at the man, his complete opposite. Roberto: older, muscular and thick waisted, his
hairy chest damp with sweat, thick black hair just turning to silver at the temples.

And then William, just out of school and still looking like a student, although his
hands were no longer school boy soft. The vineyard had seen to that. His pale skin
had been burned so many times in the vines that he now sported a dense crop of
freckles. And he’d gained weight from all the physical work, but he was no
Roberto. Roberto looked like he was made out of the earth. William closed his
eyes, thought about the generator, the work to come, and the holiday on the other
side of it. He knew getting there would have to go through Roberto.

The argument took place the next morning. William had known that it would
happen eventually, it was just a matter of when. They had lifted the generator out of
the back of the truck, plugged it into the mains near the grape press. Roberto filled
it with diesel and tried to start it. He primed the engine, turned on the choke and
pulled on the starter cord. The engine kicked over and then stalled, coughing out a
chuff of blue smoke. Then he tried it again, for the same result. Then again, and
again, and within a minute Roberto was swearing and cursing. The generator sat
dead and whipped beneath him, as useless as it was when it left the vineyard for
town.

You ladyboy fuckingboy whore! Odjebi u skokovima!

William knew from experience that it was serious when Roberto started swearing in
Croat. Normally he just cursed in broken English, sometimes laughing between the
phrases when he realised he had mangled the word order. William didn’t know
what Roberto had just said in his native tongue, but the generator didn’t seem
impressed, the useless machine ignoring his strenuous efforts to bring it to life.

Roberto stepped back, hands on hips. His shirt was rucked up, a patch of black
hair running up past his waistband on his lower back. The rising sun was already
starting to make William’s skin prickle.

Roberto turned to him, his face still creased with effort.

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