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“Yes—” nodding to mimic my words “—I was planning on it once I got settled into work and my apartment.”
He’s a few inches from me, scrutinizing me with his eyes. I have the urge to reach out and touch him, run my fingers along his soft, warm skin, even if I have no right to do any of those things.
I begin extending my right hand toward him, his meeting me halfway. I watch his hand envelop mine, his fingers caressing my skin. I close my eyes, remembering his touch, and my skin prickles at the memories. When I open them, his eyes are wet and soft. Is that love I see? Is it possible that after all the damage I caused, he could still love me?
“Massimo, I—”
“Daddy, here are the crackers. These are the ones Mommy buys.” Two small boys jog up to him, each handing him a box. I yank my hand back, staring down at the two boys, who are both looking at me with curiosity. They’re unquestionably his with the same beautiful chocolate eyes, ink-black hair, and toothy smiles.
I shift my eyes back to Massimo’s, where I see turbulent sadness and anger. My hand goes up to my mouth to cover the sob itching to escape. I shake my head and scurry away from him toward the front of the store. As I’m leaving, I hear him call my name. I momentarily stop before thinking better of it and ignore him.
I drop the basket full of groceries at the front and hurry out the door before Massimo can catch up with me. I jog down the street and around the corner to get as far away from him as I can.
Since I dropped everything and ran, I hail a cab to take me across town to see Luci, who’s bartending at The Pour House tonight. If I needed a drink before seeing Massimo, now I need it even more.
Once inside the cab, I can no longer hold my tears back. I’m taking deep, measured breaths to try to calm my erratic heart.
I had convinced myself that I was ready to see him.
Ready to speak my truth.
Ready to ask for his forgiveness.
If what just happened back at DeLuca’s is any indicator, I’m not ready for anything. A sob escapes me, and the cabbie looks at me through his rearview mirror. “Everything okay, miss?” he asks.
I nod. A blatant lie considering my steady flow of tears. Was that a glimmer of love in Massimo’s eyes, or am I imagining it because it’s what I want to see? And if it is, what does that mean for us? Is there even an us? I have to stop getting ahead of myself. First things first, I need to get a grip. His mere presence today shook me in a way I’ve never imagined it would.
The Pour House is a laid-back dive bar—dark inside, with random decorations strewn around the whole place and across the bar’s top. There’s a brick-wall mural along the entire left side, old bowling pins, a skeleton, trophies, plastic drink trays stuck to the air vents, and a pinball machine. Although it’s a dive bar, it’s been around for years, and the bar food is phenomenal, especially their burgers. Locals sporting their team pride with Red Sox or Patriots hats fill the booths along the brick wall or in the backroom.
When Luci sees me, she walks over, smiling, but as she gets close, she sees the tension and anxiety written all over my face and asks, “What happened?”
“Pour me a Grey Goose and soda, heavy on the Goose, with two limes and order me a mushroom burger, medium with onion rings, and I’ll tell you about it,” I tell her as I’m removing my jacket to place it on the back of my stool.
Luci and I have been best friends since the third grade, and I almost lost her when we were in junior high. In eighth grade, Luci was rescued from the house fire at her family home. She and her sister were sleeping in their bedroom with the door closed. Her father had fallen asleep on the couch while smoking a cigarette. Luci told me she was woken up by the firefighters outside the window, yelling to move back because they would be breaking through the bedroom window to rescue them. They later learned that their bedroom was spared from the fire damage because the door was closed. Thankfully her mom was at work that night, and her dad was okay. After that, her parents got divorced, and it was a rough time for her and her family.
Despite our lifelong friendship, I also betrayed her when I left Massimo all those years ago. She’s mostly forgiven me for the hurt and betrayal, and I’m grateful for her love. I now know my decision hurt a lot of people. Hindsight is 20/20 and all.
“Spill it, Lena,” she quips as she pours the Grey Goose over the ice-filled glass and tops it off with soda water before dropping two limes in and sliding it toward me. “The rush won’t begin for about an hour. We have time to chat before it’s a full house,” she tells me, boring her eyes into mine with a force that says, “Don’t fuck with me.”
I hear Aerosmith’s “What It Takes” playing from the jukebox behind me. How appropriate—singing about letting go and moving on. I grab the glass and give the straw a twirl before taking a sip. It’s strong, burning as I swallow—precisely what I need.
“I went to DeLuca’s after work to pick up a few things. Massimo was there, and he confronted me. He caught me off guard, and words failed me. I wasn’t ready to see him yet. I basically ran away like a scared little girl. Oh, and he’s still sexy as ever.” I sigh before taking another sip of the liquid swirling in my glass.
“Whoa, slow down, Lena. What do you mean he confronted you?”
“He asked me what I was doing here and if I planned on seeing him.”
“And?”
“And nothing. I barely muttered a full sentence. When I was working up the courage to say something, his two sons showed up, and it freaked me out,” I spew, exasperated thinking about the encounter.
“That’s rich, Lopez. What the hell is wrong with you?”
“I don’t know, Luci. Massimo is the only one who makes me act like a fool. He’s always had that effect on me,” I remind her. “I guess he still does,” I say, shrugging as I sip my drink again.
“Honestly, Lena, you’ve been back a few weeks, and I still don’t know why you left. I can’t imagine what he’s feeling. Can you blame him?” she retorts, shaking her head. She leans into me and lowers her voice. “You were two months away from your wedding when you up and disappeared and left him a heaping pile of shit to clean up! One I helped clean up! You fucked him up pretty bad,” she proclaims.
I glare at her because I need her to be my friend now and not scold me, even though I deserve everything she’s throwing at me, and then some.
