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The sky was setting on the watery trails in the city of Venice at the end of a short December day. Up above the world so high, the daytime diamond exchanged places for the black night. Still, no matter where you have been afterwards, a sunset upon this historical land always drew your attention and lingered with you forever!
Italy could be cold this time of year, but still beautiful regardless of the season. Currently, the twilight scene with pink clouds reflecting off the wet roads of the city made the water blush. The reddish hues gave a deceptively warm appearance, despite the constant chill in the open air.
Ringo Starr made this silent observation as a seasoned traveler in his fifties. Enjoying the peace he lacked in his youth, the mature musician casually sat alone at a small round table for two, upon a black metal chair. Looking out at the city winding down, the man who was once blocked from the sites because of his fame was enjoying the peace brought through the passage of time.
In his seclusion, the lone man from the Fab 4 took advantage of the shelter inside, but had a wide-open view from a large window. Quietly, Starr would stare through the glass as a few gondolas would drift by, while he gazed from his fourth-floor view. Naturally, the people in these traditional boats were tourists with teenagers from other continents. People would flock to Europe from both North and South America, Asia, Africa, and Australia to see these historical cities, only to be surrounded by more and more modern conveniences.
Starr, being a worldly traveler, could identify these visitors from across the seas by how eager folks were to pull out their cameras. People are more reserved in places they visit more often, whereas those making larger trips feel more invested in the moment. So, they end up spending all of their holiday snapping pictures and pointing at different old architecture, likely never to return to this city again. These guests never stopped taking photos to enjoy where they were in the first place.
Most of these poor souls were deluded in believing they were staring at ancient history, when more of these buildings were rather new. Some were a few hundred years old, but many were brand-new establishments, replicating the theme of age. Then Ringo noticed that he himself was beneath an arch of fastened stone. It was a replica of the ancient Roman style, but less than a hundred years old.
Ringo had long learned that the pillars beneath the watery highways were petrified logs of ancient trees that once stood in an ancient forest. This foundation held up for a millennia, with a history going as far back as the ancient Greeks. Across from the body of water was a real piece of history, an actual ancient statue from Greece. The immortalization of a man in a himation was from a different culture, looked Italian enough for most, and stood before a new hotel.
Then another little boat floated by. This time Ringo watched from his seclusion an elderly couple float along the watery trail by themselves. They were not taking pictures, but huddling close in a loving embrace. Not passionately kissing like a couple of kids on their honeymoon, but set together like pillars of stone, ready for eternity.
The couple were likely from Japan, Ringo noticed from high above. He got a decent look at their faces as they each looked up at the building he was in for the full view. A smile appeared on the drummer's face when he saw they were enjoying their private romantic night. It didn’t matter that it was obvious to Starr that the loving pair were floating in a freshly designed long boat, likely less than a year old. It didn’t matter! The boat was well decorated and the gondolier dressed in the stereotypical striped shirt and the red bandana. Well, that’s how they make their money, dressing for the part.
Another reminder that every profession has its own costume. Ringo sipped his peppermint cappuccino from a papered cup with a plastic lid while processing this thought and watching the winter days end. In the distance, music was playing in one direction, and a different song in another. Lights inside were brightening the windows, as well as the lamps along the watery street. Alone, Ringo watched the silence of the color melting into the night sky, fading to black like the end of a movie in the theater house. Soon stars dotted the darkness above with a crescent moon as the jewelry dangling in the atmosphere.
“My Starr, always stargazing,” a familiar voice interrupted the moment, as a man emerged from the darkened corridor, approaching Ringo’s table.
A familiar smile dressed familiar lips, and a face Starr knew from afar, but even more so close up. The mop this man wore thirty years ago was replaced with a graying mullet and a mustache under his nose. In his hand was the same style of cup Ringo was drinking from. A paper cylinder, printed in a festive candy cane stripe pattern, gave the illusion of the red wrapping around the cup itself.
As the newcomer took his spot at the table across from Ringo, he first took a sip of his drink and stared at the view. The city was lit up, filtering the natural sky from its true glory. Then, placing the drink down, the old friend leaned back, staring at eyes bluer than the atmosphere above.
“It’s good to see you, my friend,” the companion stated, looking directly at the famous drummer.
“It’s good to see you too, George,” Ringo replied to the strummer of the old group that disbanded decades ago.
“How’s Barbara?” George Harrison inquired of his friend's wife of ten years.
“She’s well,” Starr replied. “Right now she’s having dinner with her kids and their father.”
The drummer paused for a moment to allow George to absorb the answer before making the same inquiry of his own.
“And where is Olivia and Dhani this evening?” he asked of George’s second wife and only child while lighting a cigarette.
“Shopping,” the strummer answered, flicking a match for a smoke of his own.
“Well, Venice is perfect for that,” Ringo agreed before taking a puff.
“Yeah, there's always more Christmas shopping to do,” the slightly younger man acknowledged.
“Well, women and children are expensive,” Starr admitted, thinking about his own family, including two wives, three children, and two step-children.
Then, under the table, two hands met, each holding the other. There was a stillness in the air as the emotions beneath the skin stirred in their veins. These men didn’t regret their lives or the families they have now. It was an understanding. Painful if they let it be, the secret lovers were reminded of the exact price those loving families were. These little moments where the two could sneak away were as rare as they were precious.
“I remember when we came here in the 60s and we snuck off to the beach,” George whispered, bringing up a private moment between the two.
Hearing this made the older man blush as the hidden hands squeezed tighter.
“It was just the two of us and a bottle of wine,” Harrison recalled with a devilish smile under his mustache. Ringo just giggled.
“The sex was rough,” he recalled the sand.
“Yes, but you were beautiful,” George interrupted, capturing those eyes.
“Well, I think it’s a bit too cold for a beach,” Starr noted of the outside temperature.
“But not for a room,” the smile grew. “Olivia knows not to wait up for me tonight,” he added, confirming his honesty with his current wife.
“Barbara is the same,” the drummer followed with the same ethics. One divorce each was enough for both of them.
George then nodded, taking in the arrangement in his mind.
“Shall we go?” he asked sweetly. However, to his surprise, George’s longest-running lover shook his head.
“I’m afraid not,” those blue eyes stated directly, watching his friend's smile drop. “Until you buy me dinner first,” he teased, forcing his companion to laugh.
Then, after a quick glance to assure they were alone, Harrison calmed his chuckles to a smile.
“I love you,” he said in a softer voice.
Then the hands parted, and the pair arose, keeping a respectful distance.
“What you drinking?” George inquired of his sober friend's beverage.
“Peppermint cappuccino,” Ringo answered, then pointed to his friend. “What about you?” he asked of Harrison’s drink.
“Cherry hot chocolate,” the taller man told the shorter, offering a sip from his cup, in which the other man did the same.
“Not bad,” Starr said of the cherry-flavored chocolate, “but I think I prefer mine.”
“I do too,” George agreed with a smirk on his face, taking another sip of his mate's beverage.
“Give it back,” Ringo ordered.
“I’ll buy you another when we get downstairs,” Harrison promised.
“And dinner,” the drummer reminded his friend as their feet found the first step.
“Christ, you’re almost as bad as a woman!” George mocked with a laugh.
“Come to think on it, I could use a new handbag and some pretty shoes to match,” was Starr’s final response as they laughed together while disappearing down the floors below. This wasn’t anything official for the history books—just their little Starrison Christmas!