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“What does the day I proposed to you have to do with this?” he asks, pulling a piece of paper from his wallet and sliding it across the bar.
I extend my hand and pick it up. It’s the handwritten note I left for him when I skipped town. It’s torn at the edges and creased from the years he’s kept it in his wallet.
“You kept this?” I wasn’t expecting to see this slip of paper. I reread the note I wrote to him nine years ago and wince when I see my callous words.
Massimo,
Writing this is the hardest thing I’ve ever done. I love you, and because of my love for you, I’m walking away. You deserve so much more than I can give you. By the time you read this, I will have left Boston. Don’t bother looking for me. I left so you can live out your dream. Thank you for loving me.
~ Lena
“I read it so much that I have it memorized.” His eyes are red. A tear trickles from his right eye.
I reach out and wipe away the tear with my thumb. “Massimo, I know there are no words to console you for what I did, for the way I betrayed you. I’m sorry will never be enough.”
“Lena, just tell me already. Why did you run and leave this note?” His eyes plead with me, searching for answers that only I can give him.
I fidget with my glasses, straighten them out. “I’m barren.”
“What?”
“I can’t have kids.”
“I know what the word means. I’m asking what, as in, what, that’s the reason you left?”
“Yes, but I did it for you,” I murmur, my eyes dropping from his.
“You ghosted me because you can’t have kids? Are you fucking kidding me?” His voice is louder than it was just a moment ago, causing the man next to him to look over at us.
“Massimo, please lower your voice.”
He leans into me, his face hovering over mine. “Unbelievable! Pretty selfish to make such a life-altering decision all on your own, don’t you think? Who the fuck are you to decide for me? And you couldn’t look me in the eye to tell me that? Get the fuck out of here!” He sticks his hand in his pocket, pulls out his wallet, and drops a hundred-dollar bill on the bar.
“Massimo, please stop. Look at me, let me explain.” I reach out for him, but he yanks his arm back from my hand.
He kicks his stool back, causing it to make a loud screeching sound before it crashes into the wall behind us. Massimo quickly turns to leave, grabbing his jacket from the stool. He forces his way through the crowded area. The faces of the patrons he’s shoving are angry at his aggressiveness. His behavior causes everyone around us to gawk at me, pity dripping from their stares, whispers about what just happened wafting through the air.
I jump to my feet, scrambling for my jacket and bag, and attempt to push my way through the crowd, tears streaming down my face. When I reach the street, I see him jogging away from the bar, but he’s at the end of the block, near Liberty Square, disappearing into the crowd of people. I reach for the wall to my left to balance myself. Defeat is hitting me; pain is constricting my heart.
Massimo reacted exactly as Stefano did by getting angry and storming out of the restaurant, humiliating me. It’s not what I expected and is truly disheartening. I knew he’d be upset, but to react with such anger without allowing me to explain, fuck!
Once I regain my composure, I begin walking until I see an available cab and hail it. When it stops, I climb in. “Pinckney Street, Beacon Hill, please.”
Although the ride is a short distance, the traffic is heavy, and we’re barely crawling down Cambridge Street. Massimo had said he wanted an explanation, and the minute I gave it to him, he didn’t want to hear it. He embarrassed me just like Stefano did all those years ago. Maybe it’s his way of getting even with me, a cruel payback for me to feel the slightest bit of humiliation he’s felt all these years. But that doesn’t seem like something he would do, at least not something he would’ve done when I knew him. Maybe my leaving changed him.
Is this it? Now that he knows why I left, I won’t ever see him or hear from him again? Although that’s the most likely scenario, I hope it isn’t so—especially after what happened between us the other day.
I have to try to give him the full story. He deserves to hear it. This way, I can close this chapter once and for all. If he still wants nothing to do with me after that, I’ll be crushed but will have to accept it. If that’s what he decides, it’ll be the consequence of my decision, and I’ll have no right to demand otherwise.
Thunder rumbles as the skies turn a dark and ominous gray, mirroring the storm brewing inside of me.
I have the cab drop me at the Beacon Hill Market, a block over from my apartment. I need to pick up something to drown my emotions in. I wander the store and decide on a sleeve of Oreo cookies.
Inside my apartment, I toss my pockabook on the bench next to the door, and untie and kick off my boots. I peruse my CD collection in search of my Chayanne “Cautivo” CD. Chayanne is one of my favorite Latino artists, whose songs often sing of love and heartbreak. I haven’t heard it in a while, but right now, sorrow suffocates me, and I need to drown my emotions in music and Oreos.
CHAPTER 19
Cover Story
