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10
Over a month had passed with Luca ferrying me back and forth to my summer class. In contrast, I hadn’t spent any time with Nicu. It was as if, once our wedding had been postponed, I’d ceased to matter to him. Out of sight, out of mind. It almost seemed as if he was avoiding me. I didn’t run into him at any mafie parties or get-togethers, not at the Romanian butcher, pastry shop, or the various cafés where people routinely gathered. Once the wedding was back on his radar, I figured he’d have to contend with me again.
Meanwhile, I was getting more and more attached to Luca. The way he confided in me about his father, the kiss afterward, and then his confident support of my quest to go to college had shifted something in me. Every day we spent together, my heart cracked open a little more. Not only did I admire his grit, but his irreverence and stubborn determination to maintain his independence, despite the demands of his family, inspired me.
With only one week left of classes, I didn’t know what I would do without him. We spent quite a lot of time together between the car ride each way, the time it took to circle around the same blocks until we found parking, taking my class breaks with him, and sharing lunch together.
We’d shared some ridiculous situations, like when he saw a car behind us pulling out of a parking space halfway up a one-way street. Leaning over me, he threw the car door open and told me to get out and hold the parking spot where the car pulled out. I ran to it, waiting as the steam coming off the black asphalt seeped through my sandals. Luca drove to the corner of the street to let the car pass and then threw his car in reverse and illegally backed up until he was adjacent to me. Waving me onto the sidewalk, he expertly parked into the tightest space possible. I really didn’t think he’d make it, but the man was a pro.
He was an expert at more than just driving and parking. He was an expert at deep existential conversations and silly teasing. He was an expert at long pauses when the heat between us blazed like a bonfire as his silver-gray eyes raked down my body. He was an expert at lingering hooded gazes and inadvertent touches that left me feeling achy and itchy. Luca was a detriment to my peace of mind.
I finally broke down and asked Jewel to buy me a vibrator online and have it delivered to her dorm room. There was no way I could have it come to my house. My grandmother didn’t care who the box was addressed to. If it was dropped on her stoop, it was public family property. But I couldn’t go on much longer with my right hand and I was in desperate need of relief.
Currently, I was lounging on Jewel’s bed in her dorm room. I’d convinced my mother to let me sleep over, and although Cristo grumbled about leaving me there, he was finally convinced that it was safe enough after Jewel explained to him the on-campus safety protocol. A security guard at the main entrance scrutinized everyone that entered. It was a woman’s college, I reiterated to Cristo as often as possible. My brother still had his doubts, but I swore to him that we’d stay on campus and eat dinner at the cafeteria. I felt a little guilty since I didn’t intend to follow through on my promise.
It was summer in the city. I could hear cars passing below Jewel’s open window, along with the hum of people talking as they walked by, punctuated by the occasional laugh or scream. Jewel’s roommate, Sofia, was a beautiful dark-skinned Dominican girl who’d grown up a mile away in East Harlem. She was already gone for the weekend, but she’d kindly let me sleep in her bed for the night. Through Jewel’s door, I’d hear the occasional shriek as the other girls in the hall flitted from room to room to get opinions on their outfits as they prepared for a summer Saturday night out. It made me nostalgic for boarding school, especially knowing I’d never experience it again while girls my age would begin the adventure of living on their own.
I was propped up against the wall on Jewel’s bed. Besides the two beds, chests of drawers, desks and chairs, the room was decorated in posters. On Sofia’s side, it was plastered with various singers that I didn’t recognize, something having to do with reggaeton. On Jewel’s side was a poster, right above my head, of Frida Kahlo, and facing me was another of Nanas, the female figures of the sculptor, Niki de Saint Phalle.
With her large hazel eyes and long wavy brown hair, Jewel could pass for Romanian, even though she was blue-blooded American, through and through. Maybe I was subconsciously drawn to her because of her looks, missing my family as I did when we first encountered each other at school at the age of twelve. There was also the fact that she was a city girl like me. Even though she grew up on Park Avenue and I grew up in a modest house in an outer borough, those distinctions faded when one was far away from home, in New England. Her Romanianesque beauty was certainly the reason Cristo checked her out. I hadn’t missed his interested looks, but no woman was less suited to being a mafie wife than my best friend.
Dropping a plain, unlabeled box on my lap, my friend said with a smirk, “Here’s my gift to you. Hopefully, it will give you the relief you need. I know you asked for something simple, but I did a little research and got you the best. It has clitoral stimulation and penetration, just in case.”
My cheeks heated up as I mumbled out a thanks. Jewel not only wanted to be an avant-garde artist, but she was also a serious feminist. Having been sexually active going on two years now, she was my go-to person, so I appreciated whatever she had gotten me.
“So, how’s it going with the brooding Romanian hottie?” she asked as she stretched across the bed. I pulled up my knees to give her more space.
I gave a deep shrug. “It’s horrible and wonderful at the same time. One week left and then my time with him will be over. He’s so intense and—”
“Looks at you like he’s going to eat you whole?” she finished for me.
I did a double take. “I don’t know about that…it could be one-sided.”
“Did you forget that I had lunch with the both of you. Sheesh, I could cut the sexual tension with a knife.”
“He’s my fiancé’s bro-ther,” I emphasized.
“Yeah, so? Sure, it’s inconvenient, but you can’t force who you’re attracted to. Better make a bold move now, before your window of opportunity is closed forever.”
“Window of opportunity? Pfft, it’s more than a little inconvenient. It’s downright impossible,” I grumbled.
“Oh, please, it’s so not impossible. If, as a society, we’ve learned to separate Siamese twins, this is a walk in the park.”
I burst out in laughter. “Okay, I’m pretty sure that doesn’t make any sense. What do Siamese twins have to do with anything?”
She waved away my question as inconsequential. “Cat, it’s not like you aren’t a person. You have a brain. You’re not simply a vehicle for your family’s ambitions.” Her gaze turned serious. “What about what you want? Doesn’t that matter in the least?”
Wasn’t that the million-dollar question?
“I’m starting to really, really like him, and that scares me.”
She huffed, “Doesn’t sound half as scary as marrying a guy you know you don’t really, really like. And since when are you a coward?”
My chest burned with pride that Jewel saw me as such a strong woman, but my life was complicated.
“It’s not that simple. In my culture, arranged marriages are customary. Even if I don’t care for it, it’s what’s expected of me. My mother would be crushed if this wedding was called off. Even if I did turn Nicu away, who says that Luca would want me? He had his chance. He had the right of first refusal, and he turned me down as a bride.”
Jewel snorted. “I’m sure that was before he met you. A traditional guy like him…if he found a mafie girl he half liked and wanted a lot, he’d marry her. Especially if it was the only way he could fuck her.”
