Call Me By Your Name - Alternate Ending

 

It was winter when he received that unexpected phone call and heard a voice that made his heart race. No one else could say his name like he did.

                “Elio?”

                 “Oliver! Hi! I’ve missed you.”

                “I’ve missed you too.”

Elio’s parents then talked to him. The usual questions. How are you? How are things going on there?  Typical. Then they left Elio to let him speak to Oliver in private.

                “Elio,” Elio whispered. “Elio… Elio… Elio….”

                There was a long silence at the other end.

                “Oliver,” he finally said. Elio blushed. “I haven’t forgotten,” said Oliver. Of course he hadn’t.

                Then he said it. Marriage.

As Elio’s mother and Mafalda lay the table, Elio sat in front of the fireplace and wept. There was nothing he could do to stop the tears. He wanted Oliver to be there, right next to him.

                “Elio?” Mother called.

                He wanted to tell her. Tell her everything.  But he would tell his father later on in the night. He would tell his father and he would weep while he said it. Out of joy. Out of pure, unrestrained joy.

                He asked me to marry him.

He wore a tuxedo. Naturally. It felt strange. Elio had never seen him in something that covered up so much of his luxurious skin. People knew. It didn’t matter. All that mattered was Oliver was waiting for him.

                They left for the States soon, each pursuing his own line of work. They had an apartment and lived like any other married couple. As Elio snuggled closer to Oliver each night, he knew there was nothing to worry about. He wouldn’t pack up and leave one day. He’d be with him forever.

                Every summer they went back to Italy. To the farm. They stayed in the same room. Elio’s room, where the memories of their first encounter was still fresh.  The French windows. The balcony. The peaches. The gate to beach still creaked. The book store. The post office. Every single place they visited over and over again, each time looking back on the very first time they were there.

The years went by. The seats at the dinner table grew by one. Vimini was very intelligent, just like her namesake. Two protective fathers and one brilliant child. Her grandmother laughed thinking of all the things she would put her fathers through.

                The three of them were there when Elio’s father died. They were there when they buried his ashes. They were there all throughout. Elio, Oliver, and their daughter Vimini. 

                One time he had asked Oliver if he remembered what happened on their balcony twenty years ago.  “Of course, I remember, you dummy,” Oliver had said. “We’re married.”

                They sat around the same dinner table; laughing, joking, drinking wine. Elio looked around; at the people he loved most. His husband Oliver. Husband. He’s my husband.

                There was nothing more important than family. Nothing in the whole wide world. Elio smiled. This was heaven.