I called immediately Graeme, who had just learned the result of the first selection and who in turn was going to call me.
"Yes, and the other two are professor Enrico Thurman, an American son of an Italian mother who at present teaches at Chicago University, and the other is professor Merryl Shaw, a New Zealander who is lecturer at the Auckland University, and got a degree in Italy, at La Sapienza University of Rome." Graeme, excited and evidently well informed, told me. "I think you're the one with a greater chance, as you are Italian one hundred per cent, and you have more publications and more experience than the other two... Shaw is still young, and that Thurman, for what I got to know, has few publications..."
"It is to be seen what support they can enjoy, especially that professor Shaw..." I pointed out, prudently. "You know that in the academic world a solid push can have more value than ten good publications, don't you?"
"But you know how to fascinate people..."
"First, you say so because you are in love with me. Second, those two might have even more appeal than me..."
"First," he said jokingly doing an imitation of my voice, "it is not just me who thinks you are fascinating, but also all my friends who met you. And second, you tend to always underestimate yourself. Yes, yes, I agree, we should not sell the bear's skin before killing him, as you use to say, but see that bear already fallen into the trap, resigned to losing his fur!"
Well, the first days of September I went again to New Zealand along with Graeme, who had come back to Japan in August to spend his vacations with me. I went immediately to the faculty and they fixed me the interview for the third. In addition to the Committee there would also be the Consul of Italy as a consultant for the fluency of speech and the correctness of accent.
I also met, in the corridors of the University, my two "opponents". Thurman spoke a good Italian, I must admit; Shaw less, he still had a strong English accent. Shaw was a very pleasant, self-assured and likeable person; Thurman instead had something rather nasty... no, maybe he was just cocky and this make him obnoxious... But sympathy and antipathy are very personal evaluations and perhaps my impression was marred by the fact that they competed against me for the same teaching position.
The interview with the committee and with the Consul came in a rather informal way, very different from what, years earlier, I had with a similar committee at the Tokyo University. I felt completely relaxed and calm. For the first time I met also the Faculty dean, an extremely pleasant person, as Graeme anticipated me, who at once put me at ease.
The interview lasted some three hours, that anyway passed without I was aware of it. They asked me a lot of questions about my resume, my field of specialization, compared literature, and especially about my teching. I answered calmly, exhaustively, at time also passionately expressing my opinions.
At some point one of the members of the Committee asked me, "Do you prefer better, professor, teaching or doing research?"
"Well, it is not easy for me to express a preference, as I believe that only a good basic research can allow to give a good teaching, and at the same time, only a good teaching can give the means to verify the validity of a research..."
The dean nodded, and asked, "What do you like more in research, and what in teaching, Professor Bacchelli?"
"In the research... it is the fulfilment of my curiosity, of my desire to know, to understand, and to... grow, in some way to expand my horizons; the joy of a discovery, of an insight that perhaps proves to be correct. Or, if it proves wrong, to be able to correct what I believed, what I guessed. A true researcher, in my opinion, should approach the research with great humility... Regarding teaching, to me it is useless having knowledge without sharing it with the others, and especially with young people preparing to face their adult life. It is a pleasure to accompany and support them in their cultural, mental and political growth. With political I don't mean in the sense of belonging to a political party, but in its etymological meaning of being active and responsible in the 'polis', in civil society. The motto of the Dominican fathers, that since long I made mine, is 'contemplata aliis tradere' that is to give, to translate for the others what we have contemplated, what we got to know."
When they finally let me go, Graeme was in the hallway waiting for me.
"Good Lord, you were no more coming out of there! Three hours! They grilled you properly!" he said.
"Three hours? I wasn't aware. It was a really pleasant conversation, more than a test..."
"Ah, then I think you fascinated them!"
"We'll see..."
At that moment came out the Consul, who came over to me to shake hands, "Congratulations, professor Bacchelli, I am pleased to have met you. I cannot say anything official, and anyway it is not up to me, but... at least I can tell you that you were really brilliant! I would like to be able to assist, commitments and time allowing me, to some of your lessons, if you put in them so much a contagious enthusiasm..."
When the Consul was gone, Graeme whispered, "Do you see? I knew it..."
Well, to make short a long story, the Committee chose me and gave me the chair. Graeme was simply bursting with joy. Of course I too was so, I was more than happy.
"Now I must return to Japan to arrange my things, then to move here. I was asked to come as soon as possible, in order to get acquainted with the university, the local methods for the organizational and didactic part, to be able to start my courses as soon as possible... possibly already in October."
"Our last separation..." Graeme sighed, but sadness was no more present in his words.
So I returned to Tokyo, where I terminate the contracts of the apartment, phone, light, water and gas; I presented my resignation to the Today, and decided what to take with me in New Zealand and what to give away. Although I tried to take with me as little as possible, at the end I had about two cubic metres of stuff, half of which were books... I contacted a shipping company and sent everything to Graeme, as we had agreed.
Before leaving Christchurch I told him to start looking for an apartment for us, but he said he preferred to look for it with me. I told him that he could start to look around anyway, so that when I was there again, we could decide together.
I managed, miraculously, to do everything in a single week, even to get the work visa from the Embassy, even though I had to run all day and undergo a really stressful pace; anyway by mid-September I was already back in New Zealand.
I settled into the small room of my Graeme and had some rest (after having made love, of course) until the next morning. I then went to the University with Graeme and introduced myself to the dean. I was immediately assigned a studio, and given the teacher's card that gave me free access to all the campus's services - from the libraries to the mess, from the reproduction and printing services, to the linguistic laboratory, the computers room and so on. I was introduced to my colleagues and, finally, I started my first day at work.
In the following days, as soon as Graeme ended his work time, we went out together, with his car, to see the apartments that Graeme had found. We were not able to make a choice. Either they were too far from the campus, or too expensive, or too small, or too big... in fact, none of them struck our fancy enough to say, "here, this is the right one".
On October tenth began my course. There were forty-seven boys and girls who took my courses and a dozen of "auditors". Except for three of them, as I had imagined none even knew a word of Italian, except for "pizza, mafia, ciao, lazagna, spagheti, macaroni, espresso coffee" and other amenities like that. So I started just from these words, first correcting the spelling and pronunciation, then building simple sentences with those terms.
"Mi piace la pizza" I like pizza, "no, io non sono uno della mafia" no, I don't belong to mafia, "Ciao, io mi chiamo Sergio, e tu?" hi, my name is Sergio, what's your name?, "Le lasagne sono molto buone" lasagne are really good, "gli spaghetti devono essere al dente" spaghetti must be cooked slightly hard, "I maccheroni sono buoni con il ragù" maccheroni are tasty with meat-and-tomato sauce, "il caffè espresso deve essere forte, caldo e dolce, come un vero uomo" espresso coffee has to be strong, hot and sweet, like a real man...
The students were having fun and taking notes, participating with interest.
As Graeme and I were free from our work, we used to turn to see more apartments, then we dined somewhere, and went back to Graeme's room where, involving also him, I prepared the lesson for the next day. And finally we went to bed and made love.
In the second half of October we found a small apartment, which, while not the ideal, was the best we had seen. Therefore we asked the owner to consider our request to rent it... He told us he would give us an answer within a couple of weeks, after reviewing other requests.
On November 2nd we received an invitation from Dean Thomas Gidlow for "a cup of tea at my home". The fact that we had invited both pleased me. We showed at his home, bringing him a bottle of the best Italian wine. He invited us to make us comfortable, then asked me how I was in New Zealand and in the Canterbury University, if I was happy with my students...
We chatted pleasantly of this and that in an atmosphere somewhere between way between formal and relaxed... Then Professor Gidlow stood up and invited us to visit his house. It was a one storey building, not far from campus, surrounded on three sides by a tiny but well-kept garden, a little wider on the rear of the house.
There was the wide living room where he had received us, a not too small entrance room, a fairly large kitchen, a beautiful studio with two bay windows, two bedrooms, a garage, two bathrooms and several very useful built in closets.
After the "tour", the elderly professor took us again in the living room and asked us, "So, do you like my little house?"
"It is really delightful." I sincerely answered - apart from furniture that was not in my taste, the apartment was well laid out and built with quality materials.
"Did you already found an apartment?" the professor asked.
"Perhaps, although we are not sure that the owner chooses us..."
"Yes, I understand; some people still has a rather... antiquated mentality. They prefer a little family or a couple of newly married. Yes. Well, do see, I now know our Lynn for some months, and you, professor Bacchelli since a few days, but you made on me a very good impression at once... And, with January first of next year, I will retire. I intend to withdraw in my native village, on the north, where the climate is milder, in Waikato, where there is still the house where I was born and I inherited from my parents... So I will leave this house... what would you say if I suggested you to rent it?"
Graeme and I looked at each other - it was clear that we both would have liked that. Before we could answer, Professor Gidlow said, "You have not to answer me right away, you can thing about it... but the idea that it is you two to live here, would really please me..."
"I thank you, sir," I then said, "we too would be really pleased to live in here too... it depends on what you ask for the rent, though. I don't know if we can afford a house, we were more oriented toward an apartment..."
Gidlow smiled, scribbled something on a piece of paper then slid it on the glass tabletop to us, "Weekly fee, of course." he said looking at us.
We read the figure and looked surprised at the professor, and Graeme said, "Are you... certain? We were asked this figure for a much smaller apartment and no garage... and not so close to the University..."
"Yes, I am certain. If it is ok with you, for me is fine."
"But... why so little?" Graeme asked again, more and more surprised. "This house is worth at least twice this price."
"I know, I know. But I don't need money... and I like you two... and here you would have your privacy, a room to yourselves and also one for guests... Ah, I will take away all my furniture, of course, you should furnish it... to your taste. You see, the thing is that... I am very fond of this little house."
And he told us, opening up totally with us.
He had bought it with his lover, a fellow student, named Morton Spender who, like him, had became lecturer at the Canterbury University. They bought it when they celebrated their fifth year of common life. Then in 1986, after about fifty years of life together, Morton had fallen ill with Aids... and soon, alas, was dead.
"No, not for of sexual contacts with others, we were faithful to each other... a blood transfusion after an accident in which he lost much blood. At that time there weren't all the precautions that we have today... After him I have had no more lovers, no history of sex... because... because our love was... is too strong, despite this long separation. Yes, it was splendid, my Morton... So, when I got to know about you two, even before having the pleasure to meet you, Professor Bacchelli, I immediately felt an instinctive liking for you two, for your love. I made sure to learn more about our good Graeme, and then I was very impressed by you, professor, your beautiful personality... and despite your discretion I have seen... or rather felt, the beauty of your love... therefore... I don't want strangers in here, I would therefore be really happy if you would live here. If you like, if you accept my offer, made from my heart..."
We accepted, not only for the low price, but also on the ground and the words with which he offered it to us. He asked us to be patient until January, then, at our request, he told us about his love story with Morton. At the end both Graeme and I were deeply moved.
Then I asked him, "This is why you advocated my hiring?"
"No, I didn't need to, Professor Bacchelli. You deserved it without any need of my support. You have really shown to be the best candidate, believe me. Well, let's shake hands, the deal is concluded as I hoped. And I have to thank you, because at least this, who has been the love nest for Morton and myself, will be your love nest too, a beautiful and healthy couple of men... as we were my Morton and I. May God bless you, my friends."
We returned to Graeme's small room, happy for the unexpected and beautiful outcome of our search for an accommodation. It was not at all a burden having to live a couple more months in that small room.
The spring was rapidly reaching its climax, full of soft colours that seemed to emphasize the flowering of our love. On the one hand it still made me a certain effect thinking that, waiting for Christmas we were also waiting, in this part of the world, the arrival of Summer... On the other hand I reflected that it was good that the new year would coincide with the beginning of summer and our common life in the beautiful little house.
I took Graeme in my arms, drew him to me and kissed him with tender passion.
"Do you know that I love you very much?"
"Yes, I know, Sergio, but I am pleased to hear it again. Never forget to tell me, besides making me feel it..." he said hugging me and making me feel how strong was his excitation and his desire.
I began to open his clothes, to slowly undress him, to reveal the beautiful shapes of his fresh and young body that I was longing to make once again mine. My hands ran down on his bare skin, and my lover started to heave slightly in the intensity of the pleasure I was awakening in him and that, consequently, was increasing also in me.
I was acutely aware of how much pleasure one can get giving it, even more that looking only for his own pleasure. Really love, the true love, makes one unselfish, makes one able to give, and to give oneself. In a really loving couple, both have as only goal the pleasure, the wellbeing, and the joy of the other. Each one competes to give to his companion what the latter desires, hopes, and longs for.
So it was then, and is even now, after nearly ten years, between Graeme and me.
When at last our bodies were naked, almost without realizing it, we were on the bed, our limbs tightly entwined. Kissing with growing passion, while our breath was becoming deeper and faster, and our excitation was rapidly increasing, I read in the eyes on my sweet and beautiful lover the strength of his desire to fully give himself to me.
Graeme pulled the slim, strong legs on his chest so offering himself to me, and with a small voice begged, "Come..." then added dreamily, "Come in me, my love!"
While, as usual, I was wearing a condom, I looked at him, ready for me, waiting, his eyes shining in anticipation to taste the joy he was going to give me - his inviting and sweet smile more eloquent than a thousand words.
I leaned on him, hugged his adorable body folded in his silent offer, and I in my turn gave myself to him. My rod hard as steel, almost knowing its own way, leaned out at the junction point. I drew closer to him and pushed my pelvis forward and felt like I was carried to him.
It was not only the eighteen centimetres of my rod that were joining him, but all of me who was uniting, thank to that shuddering piece of flesh, that was finally renewing the solemn and sacred rite of the union. I slid into him and I felt welcomed, accepted, desired. I pushed with gentle vigour until I was completely inside him then I stopped. He let out a soft sigh and embraced my waist gently pulling himself more against me. While kissing me, his tongue started playing with mine, and I started to move, slowly but with vigour, inside him.
Parting for a moment his lips from mine, Graeme murmured, "Sergio, how can each time be more beautiful than the last one?"
"Are you happy, my love?"
"Yes... it's too good to finally feel you inside me again. It is beautiful feeling that you are mine, only mine... Yes, love, it is wonderful taking you so inside me. Really wonderful."
My thrusts began to be gradually more vigorous, while our mouths were searching again each other, and my pushes made all his beautiful body lightly dart, so that we really seemed united in a dance, a dance of love. Even though I could not see our bodies so united, I knew that in such moments we were both wonderful, and rather we were one only wonderful thing. I moved in him trying to give him the most enjoyment and pleasure, and he accompanied my movements with unconscious but wise mastery to give to me too that same happiness and enjoyment.
Both tense in the increasing desire to make happy our lover, we continued to move in unison in a counterpoint of moves and light moans of pleasure. Our hands were clutching, caressing the other with the self-confident certainty thank to which the body of the beloved becomes our own body, and therefore we know it so well as nobody else can know.
Two strangers can also enjoy a moment of shared sex, but in the end they don't know each other, each of them knows only himself and tries to get the maximum pleasure for himself. Two strangers, after all, do nothing but use each other. Nothing wrong with that, as long as they are both conscious and consenting.
But for two lovers all this is reversed, because every one of them knows the other as much and even better than himself, and does everything he can to make the other happy, and then indeed the two bodies, two for an outside observer, become just one in a mystical and very sweet union.
The sentence, apparently jokingly, that sometimes Graeme used with me, taking my virile member in his hand, saying "this is mine, not yours... it is part of me, part of my body..." was, possibly unconsciously, this truth.
Yes, really my virile member belonged to his body, and his tender and warm love receptacle was part of my body. This I was thinking, in one of the layers of which our mind is composed, while I was dancing into him, with him, and for him.
Yes, I have had to reach the opposite side of the world, where men walk with their feet up and head down, as I imagined as a child, to turn upside down also my beliefs about the essence of love.
I united with Graeme with renewed passion, with a renewed awareness of how lucky we were to be able to live such a deep love. My sweet lover was giving himself to me with manly sweetness, and I to him with sweet virility, and our union was perfect of a perfection that man alone can never achieve, but which miraculously becomes real through love.
And with a silent cry of joy, we both reached the earthly paradise, the Eden lost long ago, whose path seemed lost, whose gates seemed shut forever, but that we had now found again, opened wide, and where we entered, he and I, became one only thing, a single "I", an "I" eternally new and renovated, and we enjoyed a joy that no word can describe but that, who really loves, knows in the most intimate and real way.
"I love you!" said our voice in a whisper that ran through the whole world.