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‘The beast with two backs’, Aldo thinks, is a very fitting paradigm for the entirety of their situation. Their way of being stays fully aboveboard in the daytime, and transforms at night, lycanthropic. Aldo becomes a person he doesn’t recognize, with Tedesco. Aldo assumes the same is true of him, by analogy.
Of course, he can never really know. How could he? Their connection is entirely carnal. Bestial. No emotions are involved. It is a kind of paradox—for them to be together, they must stay apart. They exist at a remove from each other for a very calculated reason. It’s quantum, almost; observation alters the state irreversibly. So Aldo does his best not to observe, and vice versa.
But it hurts. It does. He wouldn’t give it up, break off whatever they have going, but he wishes that it could be easier; more normal. Well, maybe not normal. Nothing about him was ever normal, was it? The same could surely be said of Tedesco. They are both exiled to the same purgatory. The purgatory of men like them.
Sometimes he thinks this is wrong: that it must be a hell. Other times, as he is pinned against the mattress by Tedesco’s firm hands, it seems to him to be a sort of heaven. Eventually, after many months of this back-and-forth, he comes to a conclusion: it is a trial. The refining fire of the Lord. To feel what he does for the man is wrong, yes, but also undeniable, unrepressable. It is a simple cross to bear, in comparison to many others, but a cross to bear nonetheless. He will take it upon himself without complaint.
For better or for worse, the sex is good. He certainly didn’t expect that, but it’s true. Aldo is unsure if this improves or worsens their situation. He repeats it, a litany. At least the sex is good. At least the sex is good. Often, he prays—for various things. Release me from his grasp. Enlighten him. Make it known to him what he is doing to me. Please touch his hardened heart, Lord. Nothing happens. They continue in the same way as before.
And Aldo Bellini, a glutton for punishment, keeps coming when he is called. He is Cardinal Goffredo Tedesco’s dog. His bitch, even. A mutt, a mangy, unloved thing, but so desperate to be good. He is good, though? Right?