Lorenzo hasn’t been having a great weekend, but hopefully love and music can still help him, especially during the big performance.

Today’s story is the third and final part of “Tempus Imperfectum” by Al Song, who is a musician, furry writer, and polyglot. The red kangaroo also assists as an editor at Thurston Howl Publications. He has been published in multiple anthologies, including Fang 8 and Roar 9. “Tempus Imperfectum” was originally published in Tales from the Guild – World Tour by FurPlanet, and you can find more of his stories on FurAffinity and SoFurry.

Lorenzo, Volker, and Massimo had an emotionally charged lunch after a less than savory encounter with some bullies took place in the city of Stuttgart.Read for you by Khaki, your faithful fireside companion.

You’re listening to The Voice of Dog. I’m Khaki, your faithful fireside companion,

and Today’s story

is the last of three parts of

“Tempus Imperfectum”

by Al Song, who is a musician,

furry writer, and polyglot.

The red kangaroo also assists as an editor at Thurston Howl Publications.

He has been published in multiple anthologies

including Fang 8 and Roar 9. “Tempus Imperfectum” was originally published in Tales from the Guild –

World Tour by FurPlanet,

and you can find more of his stories on FurAffinity

and SoFurry. [if this is the second or third entry] Last time, [Lorenzo,

Volker, and Massimo had an emotionally charged lunch

after a less than savory encounter with some bullies took place

in the city of Stuttgart.]

“Tempus Imperfectum”

by Al Song, Part 3 of 3

On the way back, Lorenzo stayed quiet as a cloud of gloom surrounded him.

During the train ride,

he stared out at the indifferent world rushing past him.

Volker tried to console him,

but the otter uttered only one word responses.

At Lorenzo’s apartment, the two teens sat on the lumpy corduroy couch

and watched television.

Lorenzo stared into the colorful box,

his ears drooping, but wasn’t paying attention to anything.

He leaned against Volker,

who stared down at his boyfriend and rubbed his side. “Are you

feeling any better now?” Volker asked. Lorenzo took a second to think about the next words that would exit his mouth

and replied, “No, I’m still feeling guilty.”

He took a deep, sharp breath.

“I’m still upset at those guys that were making fun of us and that old person who was yelling at me.”

“Does it matter though?

I mean, I guess it does, but we don’t have to deal with them anymore,

and we don’t have to listen to them.”

“It’s not going to be the last time though,” Lorenzo said.

“Shouldn’t things like this make us stronger?”

“I don’t feel like it’s making me any stronger.

stronger.” The otter sighed and then let out a groan of frustration.

“I’m tired of people harassing me.”

“I know people aren’t the most open-minded here in the rural world,

but at least we’re not being killed on the streets or jailed for just being ourselves, right?”

“Even though I’m not dead or in prison,

it’s still not okay and it still hurts.”

“I know it does.” Volker held his boyfriend.

Lorenzo leaned into the badger

and closed his eyes.

“Ever since I was little,

I never felt like I really fit in or like I was actually a part of a group.”

He took a breath and sat back up.

“When I moved from southern Italy to Venice

I didn’t have a lot of friends and some of the other kids would make fun of me

because of my dialect.

They made it seem as if I was a stupid or lazy person

because of how I spoke and where I came from.”

He looked at the speckled carpet.

“Back then, I wasn’t sure if I had any real friends.

When we moved here

I had to learn a whole new language.

Other people would make fun of me because I was still learning how to speak German,

and even now people still make fun of me because I have an accent.

There were also the people who harassed me because I’m a foreigner.

Today I just wanted to have my dad speak German because it would make us seem less foreign.”

Volker gently rubbed Lorenzo’s back.

“It’s not like people can look at you and be able to tell that you’re not German.”

“I know that, but when I speak I sound different.

After they hear me, people know that I’m a foreigner.”

Lorenzo stared at the ground again.

“You don’t sound funny.

I think your accent is molto sexy,”

Volker said, giving Lorenzo a playful look.

Lorenzo gave a small chuckle but sighed again.

“But that’s the thing.

I have an accent and that makes me different.”

“We’re gay, that already makes us different.

Everyone’s different.”

“I know, but it’s not like being gay makes it any easier.

I’m glad I’m gay since you’re my boyfriend,” he said

and squeezed the badger’s bicep.

“You’re so big and strong.”

“Aw, cutie,” Volker said, giving Lorenzo a small kiss on his furred cheek.

“Does it matter what people think?”

“I care about what you think.” “Well,

I’m not just anyone.

I’m your friend and your boyfriend.

And Lorenzo, you shouldn’t yell at your dad like that,”

the badger said gently.

“I know.” “Seeing you shout at your dad was kind of surprising.

I’ve never seen you get angry at him or anyone.

I mean, my parents get on my nerves a lot but I don’t yell at them,

at least not like that,”

Volker said as he tried to make the last part sound like a joke.

Lorenzo looked even more ashamed

and turned his head away.

Volker rubbed his back again.

“I’m not trying to tell you that you’re a bad person for yelling at him,

but it just didn’t seem fair or okay.”

“I guess I could have just politely told him.”

“Or you could have just told him the truth

about what was going on.”

The badger gave the otter a reassuring look and a hug.

“Yeah, I didn’t want to make a scene by worrying him,

but I ended up making one anyways.

I really wish that having an accent or being from a different country wasn’t a big deal.”

“Even people here think that if you have a thick regional accent or

if you have trouble with Hochdeutsch

then you’re uneducated,” Volker said, shaking his head.

“I guess I sometimes feel as if I’m in a country that doesn’t really want me to be here.

I know that immigration is a big deal in many countries.

It seems like even in Italy there are people who aren’t fond of immigrants.”

“Really?” Volker asked, surprised at the notion.

“I guess people who emigrate from Africa or the Middle East into Italy

also have to deal with discrimination,” Lorenzo said glumly.

“It’s terrible. I mean, I know there are still some people that dislike immigrants but not all people are xenophobic.”

“I know that, but sometimes I really wish that I weren’t so different.”

“Like I said, we’re all different,”

Volker said with reassurance.

“Yeah but I wish I didn’t have to feel this way.

It’s not enough that I’m gay, but I’m also an immigrant.”

“You don’t have to keep thinking about this all the time.

I try to just let it go and forget about it,”

Volker said. “Maybe you’re just tougher than me.”

“It doesn’t mean that it still doesn’t hurt when people say homophobic things.”

The badger frowned.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it like that,”

Lorenzo said quickly

and looked back at the ground.

“It’s okay. I know that people are afraid of me.

I know that they think I’m gonna beat them up.

I still remember the day I met you.

We were sitting next to each other in math class

and I knew you were a little scared of me being this big, angry guy.

But when I was having trouble with some of the math problems,

you helped me with everything, and you were so patient with me.”

Volker kissed Lorenzo on his forehead.

“I was afraid of coming out to you.

I was scared that you wouldn’t want to be my friend anymore.

Plus I had a crush on you after you saved me from those xenophobes.”

“I was afraid too.

I knew a lot of people already didn’t like me but when you came out to me

you gave me the courage to do it too.”

Lorenzo blushed. “Aw, Volker.”

“We’re out of the closet.

We shouldn’t care about people’s stupid opinions.

We have friends with families that moved here from other countries too,

like Turkey, Greece, and Poland.

You’re not alone, Lorenzo.

You’ve got friends

and me. You also have your dad.”

Lorenzo smiled at the thought

and Volker gave him a tight hug.

“I love you, Volker.”

“I love you too, Lorenzo.”

The two of them cuddled and watched television

until Lorenzo’s father returned home a few hours later.

“I see you two have been having fun,” Massimo chided with a small grin on his face.

“I was just about to leave.

Oh yeah, I still have your viola at my house,” the badger said quickly.

“I’ll bring it back to you tomorrow.”

“Okay, thanks,” Lorenzo said with his paws in his lap

and his head down.

“See you, Lorenzo,” Volker said,

blowing his boyfriend a kiss.

Lorenzo caught it and gave a little wave.

“Goodbye, Herr Agresta,” Volker said to Lorenzo’s dad.

“Bye, Volker,” Massimo said kindly in his low voice.

The badger took his shopping bags and left the apartment.

Lorenzo’s father put his belongings away in his room

and walked back out.

The large otter plopped beside his son on the couch

and asked, “Can we speak in Italian now?”

“Of course we can,”

the smaller otter said,

his head still bowed and the feelings of guilt resurfacing.

“What was all of that about earlier today, Lorenzo?”

Massimo said as Lorenzo felt a large paw rest gently on his shoulder.

“I’m sorry, Dad. I feel really awful about that,”

he whimpered. He put his glasses on the side table,

placed his head on his father’s chest,

and hugged him. His father rubbed his back

and patted him on the head.

“I’m really sorry for yelling at you,” Lorenzo said.

He sat up and wiped the forming tears from his eyes.

“Some stuff happened today and some other stuff happened last week.”

“What happened?” Massimo asked him calmly.

He hugged the little otter tighter.

“You can tell me anything that’s been going on.”

Lorenzo recounted the incident with the Italian tourist at the deli.

Massimo nodded and listened quietly with understanding eyes.

“And what happened today?”

Massimo asked gently.

“Some guys were harassing Volker and me

because we were kissing.” “Did they hurt you?”

Massimo’s voice filled with concern.

“No, they didn’t hurt us and there were some adults there who told them to leave us alone.”

“So you’ve been sad because someone told you those things

and because some boys were making fun of you?”

“It hurts, dad.” Lorenzo sobbed.

His large tail slumped against the couch.

“I know it hurts. People are terrible to me too.”

“I just don’t want to tell you things because I don’t want to worry you.”

“I’d rather have you tell me what’s wrong

than you shouting at me.”

“Dad, you have enough to take care of and I don’t want to be a burden.”

“Lorenzo, if you have an issue

then I want you to come to me and tell me.

I want you to know that I’m someone you can trust.

I’m your father. I know you’re grown

up and you want to keep things to yourself, but I want to help you.” The shorter otter

took a breath. “Alright.” “I remember that you didn’t even tell me that your uncle Armando used to hit you until we moved out.

I was so angry at him.

I called him and yelled at him.

I don’t think we’ll ever be able to go back to Venice after that.

He was so rude and angry.

He tried so hard not to seem like a ‘southern Italian’ yet he was so pompous

and acted like he was so much better than me.”

Lorenzo looked at the ground at the mention of his uncle.

“I was afraid that he’d hurt me more if I told you.”

Massimo hugged his son tightly.

“He’s horrid. I would never hit you,

and I don’t understand why he would ever do that to you.

I don’t think any parent should hit their child.

Children don’t deserve that.”

“I hated being in Venice.

I hated how the other children would make fun of me because of our accent

and the fact that we were from the south.

I would always do better than them at tests,

and they would still always call me stupid.

When we lived near Bari,

I didn’t have to worry about other people making fun of me.”

“I knew you were angry with me for leaving

Pietre dei Marini and then again for leaving Italy,

but I knew that this would be good for us.

Things are better now,”

Massimo said with relief in his voice.

“We don’t have to live with my idiotic brother,

and I don’t have to depend on him.

I have my own money

and I’m happy. When we were in Venice

I couldn’t find a job that would pay me well enough to give us a chance to live alone.”

“I guess some things are better.

I’d rather be living here than with Uncle Armando.”

“You know, when your mother divorced me I was so afraid,

and I didn’t know what to do.

Grandpa and grandma had passed away a year before so I couldn’t turn to them.

You always made me so happy,

and I felt like I had to do everything in my power to protect you.

When I lost my job

and I couldn’t afford our home and we had to move in with that idiot,

I felt like a failure.

When I lost my job again in Venice,

it felt even worse.”

“I’m sorry you had to go through that.”

Lorenzo knew the story already

but wanted to console his father.

“But you were there with me.

You’ve always been with me.

I know that we don’t have much

but what we do have is ours, I’m happy living in Germany with my son.

I love you so much, Lorenzo.”

“I love you too, Dad.”

The little otter looked up at his father

with so much pride

and gratitude in his heart. #

The evening of the spring festival turned the small,

quiet town of Hügeldorf into a sparkling party.

The buildings and trees were covered in lights,

and lanterns hung across lampposts.

Food vendors lined the main streets,

and people cheered and talked to one another.

Neighbors reacquainted themselves,

and children ran around with food and sweets.

There was a makeshift stage in the middle of the town square

where the Gymnasium orchestra played.

The orchestra was made of diverse students of different species and class grades

sitting in their different instrument’s sections

performing together to create beautiful music in unison.

Herr Farber pierced the air with his baton at the last note of the piece.

His face, which was starting to change to its summer coat, looked

overjoyed at the performance of the students.

There was a huge cheer from the audience,

and they all applauded with ferocious enthusiasm.

Both Lorenzo and Volker

looked across to one another in the front row

and smiled. In the crowd Lorenzo’s father and Volker’s family sat next to each other.

Volker’s mother recorded the performance with a camcorder.

Volker’s brother and father weren’t paying attention,

instead they were on their tablets, distracted by television and the news.

Herr Farber gestured for the students to stand

and they bowed to the audience.

Everyone could tell that arctic fox was proud of the young musicians.

The audience demanded an encore but the next musical act was up.

Volker and Lorenzo left the stage with their instruments in tow

as a smaller jazz band started to set up.

It looked like it consisted of older members of the community.

Herr Farber remained on the stage

as he was also their conductor.

The two gave a small wave at the arctic fox from off of the stage

and he waved back.

“Volker, do you think we can go by the fountain?”

Lorenzo asked. “My feet are kind of hot.”

“Of course we can.

Let’s give our stuff to our parents first so we don’t have to carry it around,”

Volker suggested.

They received hugs from Volker’s mom

and Lorenzo’s dad

and left their belongings with them.

The two walked down a small road

illuminated by glowing streetlamps

and stringed lights.

They held each other’s paws after they scouted the area to make sure no one else was around.

A little while later

they reached a small rectangular fountain that wasn’t running.

Lorenzo hurriedly took off his dress shoes and socks.

He pulled the legs of his tuxedo pants up

and dipped his feet in the cold water with a relieved sigh.

Volker just sat on the edge of the fountain facing away from the water.

“I do miss being near the sea,” Lorenzo

said as he splashed around a little bit.

The jazz band played a fast-paced swing piece in the background

and Volker swayed to the music.

“When I lived near Bari we were on the coast.

I would go swimming with my dad and my friends all the time.”

Lorenzo looked at the dark shops around them.

One of the stores sold art supplies

and had a painting of the Alps in the front window.

To his left was a floral shop that had a sale on small potted trees.

He sighed and said,

“The hills and the forest are beautiful here,

but I still wish it wasn’t landlocked.”

“Yeah, the ocean is beautiful,

but at least there are rivers.

I thought you liked hiking through the Black Forest with me.”

“I do, but I still like swimming a lot more.

There’s just something about being surrounded by water that puts me at ease.”

“I guess I really like beach vacations in the north

and the ones in France.

I’m not a fan of the rocky beaches in Marseilles though.

Hopefully one day I can go to Italy with you and see the beaches there,”

Volker said and smiled at the otter.

“I don’t plan on going back anytime soon though,”

Lorenzo said gently kicking the water with a sigh.

He thought about his time at the restaurant with Volker and his father.

The awareness of how disconnected he was with Italian culture pained him

while still feeling as if it was his own fault.

“Maybe we could travel together somewhere one day,”

Volker said. “You seem happier this week…

or at least less angry at people.”

“Oh, thanks,” the badger said sarcastically.

“I didn’t mean any offense by it,”

the otter said. “I know, I’m just joking with you.

We played well for today.”

“We played well?” Lorenzo said incredulously.

“It was amazing!” “It could have been better,”

Volker replied. Lorenzo rolled his eyes.

“Of course you’d say that.”

After a pause Volker piped up

and said, “There’s another thing.

I talked to my parents about studying music

and I took your advice.”

“What did they say?”

Lorenzo tilted his head.

“They still don’t like the idea of me studying music at a university,

but they were more okay with it when I suggested I could also study business or instrument repair after I graduate

as a fallback plan,”

the badger said and looked up at the stars.

“At least now they’re okay with me going into a music performance program.”

“I know you don’t want to teach

so those sound like good ideas,”

Lorenzo said earnestly.

“Maybe after I get my degree

I’ll just do auditions or even go for a master’s.”

Volker smirked. “If things don’t work out

I’ll be there for you, and if things get really bad we can live with my dad,”

Lorenzo said and laced his fingers with Volker’s.

“That’s good to know.

We’ve got another year of Gymnasium and then the Abitur test.

After that we’ll be somewhere.”

Volker gently squeezed Lorenzo’s paw.

“I’ll go wherever you go.

A lot of universities have math programs.”

“Really? You don’t want to study in Italy?”

“Well, I’ve never written a real essay in Italian.

They’ve all been in German, besides the ones I’ve written for English and French class.

Plus, I know mathematical terms better in German too.

I’m so angry at myself for forgetting so much Italian.”

“Don’t you talk to your dad in Italian?”

“I do, but that’s not the same as academic language,

and I want to be with you.

I guess the vocabulary we use when we’re twelve isn’t the same as when we go to a university.

It’s so frustrating.

I have to go to a university in a country where people will be rude to me,

work there, and live there for the rest of my life.

I call myself Italian because I was born there, but now my world consists of German culture.

I have no idea what’s even going on in Italy these days;

I have no real connections there.

I don’t even know what I’m supposed to be,”

Lorenzo said, massaging his temples.

“To me, you’re the sweetest otter in the whole world,

and I think you belong here,”

Volker said and placed their interwoven paws to his chest.

The two took a few minutes to enjoy the calm air

as one boy stargazed

and the other watched the water ripples around his feet.

A new piece started up from the town square.

The beat was slower

and the bassline was heavier.

A cry of a single trumpet soared through the air

and soon the rest of the brass instruments followed.

The warm legato notes and wavy slurs created a romantic,

cozy mood in the air.

“Would you care to dance?”

Volker asked Lorenzo as he put his black paw out.

“Just don’t step on my feet okay?” the otter smirked as their paws reunited. “I’m not that clumsy,”

the badger replied

as he helped Lorenzo up.

Lorenzo sank into his boyfriend’s chest

as the two of them danced slowly rocking against one another.

The otter’s soaked feet

made wet paw prints that shone against the light of the streetlamps.

They let the warm jazz overcome their senses

and surround them.

Swaying under the glow of the moon

and the glimmer of the stars,

they felt themselves harmonize with the world around them.

This was the the third of three parts

of “Tempus Imperfectum”

by Al Song, read for you by Khaki,

your faithful fireside companion. Tune in next time to find out how

As always, you can find more stories on the web at thevoice.dog,

or find the show wherever you get your podcasts.