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We’re taken to the back-corner booth next to the window, past tables of people and families chatting, eating, and laughing. The boys love sitting along this wall because they look at the pictures hanging one right next to the other and ask questions about the people in them, most of them celebrities, both local and well-known. They can also see all the police and fire department patches that adorn the wall from different places.
As I sit here staring at my little guys, I can’t help but think about Lena, and the last time we came here a few weeks before she left me.
Nine Years Ago
Her sister, brother-in-law, and their four kids are visiting from Florida for a week during the kids’ school vacation in mid-March. It’s the night before they have to return home, and we meet them here with one of Lena’s brothers, his wife, Lena’s other sister who lives in Medford, and their parents. There are thirteen of us, and we take up most of the area back here. Whenever we’re with Lena’s nieces or nephews, she always sits with the kids no matter where we go for dinner. She wants to be among them, laugh with them, tell jokes, draw, or listen to their stories.
I like sitting across from her because when she’s with the kids, her face glows. Her eyes turn up and crinkle from laughter. She’s relaxed with them, and the kids are drawn to her, all wanting to sit next to her or on her lap. Being with the kids is like second nature for her. Every time I see it, all I can think about is what a great mom she’s gonna be.
“Dinner was fun tonight. I love it when the whole family is together. My heart is full when we’re all gathered around a table,” Lena says while removing her jeans in the walk-in closet. “I wish we all lived in the same city. I miss those kids a lot, am missing so much of them growing up.”
I join her inside the closet and take her into my arms. “I can’t wait to grow our family, put a baby in your belly,” I tell her while drawing circles on her stomach. “You’re fucking beautiful,” I say, as I pepper kisses along her face, down her neck, over her breasts, stopping at her belly and resting on my knees. “But when I get you pregnant, and you’re wicked swollen with our baby, you’ll be,” I pause, “I don’t have words to describe it—Lenalicious.” I howl back in laughter. I have a huge grin sprawled across my face because thinking of Lena with a swollen belly, swollen with my baby, a baby we created from love, makes my heart burst with happiness, makes my dick hard.
“You say the craziest stuff.” She chuckles, running her fingers through my hair. When I look up at her, Lena shifts her eyes away from mine while fiddling with her glasses.
“I am crazy! Crazy for you, for us, and for the family we’re gonna have.” I pop up to my feet and open the bottom dresser drawer. “I know this is way early, but last week when I took my mother to Target, I saw this and couldn’t resist buying it.” I pull out a tiny white onesie and unfold it to show her. It says, “50% Mommy, 50% Daddy, 100% Perfect,” in stacked lettering.
She starts crying. Not even like tears dripping from her eyes, but full-on gushing tears and runs out of the closet.
“What’s the matter?” I ask, following her.
“Why would you buy that? We’re not even pregnant.”
“I know we’re not, but I’m just excited and couldn’t resist because look how cute it is.” I hold up the onesie closer for her to see. “It’s fine! We’ll be pregnant soon.” I wrap her in my arms and kiss the top of her head.
“It’s not fine! What happens if we never get pregnant?” she screeches, wrestling out of my arms.
“Lena, what’s wrong with you? We’ll get pregnant when we get serious about trying. Stop freaking out over it. It’s just a onesie. Seriously, it’s not that big of a deal.”
“Actually, it is a big deal, but whatever!” she yells while slamming the bathroom door behind her.
“One large cheese pizza,” the waitress says, placing it on the table.
I serve the boys and grab a slice. “Wait a couple of minutes, guys. It’s too hot right now, don’t want you to burn your mouth. Blow on it a little, so it cools off.”
“Daddy, you remember the time I burned my mouth?” Lucio asks.
“Yes, buddy. I do.”
“I never burned mine, right, Daddy?” Leandro asks.
“No, you didn’t, which is why you have to be careful now.”
My thoughts go back to that night when I showed Lena the onesie I had bought. Now it makes sense why she started crying and freaked out the way she did. That night she already knew she couldn’t have kids. Why wouldn’t she have told me? None of it makes sense.
When we were in bed later that night, she had told me she didn’t want to talk about it, was tired, and went to sleep. I didn’t bring up the topic again because I didn’t want to upset her any more than I already had. Figured when the time was right, we would talk about it. Had I known, I would’ve forced us to have the discussion. I had put the onesie back into the bottom drawer. I still have it, tucked away with all my workout gear.
After dinner, we go to the Taverna on Salem Street. Rocco is down the Cape, and Stella is at Casa Lorenzo in the South End. I need to close up here and check in with Patty, the manager at Trattoria downtown, to make sure she’s good and doesn’t need anything. As we’re walking the three blocks, I text Camila to let her know she can pick up the boys.
Massimo:At Taverna—boys are ready when you are
Camila:OK—be there in 30
Once at Taverna, I slide the boys onto stools at the bar and ask Antonella, the bartender, to get them each a Shirley Temple to drink while we wait for their mother to pick them up.
It’s a Monday night, and the restaurant is quiet. A few couples are sitting at two-tops along the right wall. An older couple in the back corner, the man is balding, wears glasses, and has his hand extended across the table. He’s caressing his wife’s left hand, or whom I presume to be his wife since they’re both wearing wedding rings. At the two-top in the middle of the banquette are two young women, maybe in their late twenties, looking like they came for dinner after work, one dressed in a pants suit, the other in dress pants and a cardigan. The table next to the window is a young couple, both of them looking at their phones, not paying attention to each other. What’s wrong with people? They’re out to dinner. Put your fucking phone down and look at the person in front of you. You never know when they won’t be there anymore.
We sit at the bar while we wait for Camila to pick up the boys. We’re sitting near the servers’ station, and the boys are talking to Kelly, one of the servers. They’re telling her about their music class and that they like to play soccer. Kelly is one of the servers who’s been working in our restaurants since I opened Trattoria downtown over ten years ago. The boys have known her their entire lives, and they love seeing her because she gives them a lot of attention. Before we know it, Camila shows up and leaves with the boys.
