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Chapter 10
Philippe
I walked around for a couple blocks before I found a taxi to take me back to the apartment I share with Carla. I’ve been home for about thirty minutes and Carla isn’t anywhere to be found. Not that I’d even be able to get ahold of her. As stupid as it may, we haven’t even exchanged phone numbers yet.
I go into our kitchen and pull out a bottle of CabernetSauvignon from the wine fridge, put the electronic wine opener on the top and walk away to the cabinets where our wine glasses are. By the time I’m back at the bottle, the cork has been taken out. I place my hand on the wine opener, take it off the bottle and pour myself a heavy glass. After today, I need it.
I make my way over to our living room and sit in the chair directly in front of our floor to ceiling windows. It gives us a beautiful view of the city.
My phone vibrates in my pocket so I take it out and see it’s a business email. I debate for a moment on putting myself fully into work, but decide against it. Instead, I’m going to call the one man who can give me some much needed advice.
I dial my father’s number, knowing it’s a little past seven in the morning and pray he’s awake. Luckily for me he answers on the last ring. “You’re calling awfully late.” Is the first thing that comes out of his mouth.
“It’s not that late,” I mutter, taking my wine glass in hand, I take a sip.
“Ah, something is wrong. I can tell from your tone.”
“I hate how you always know.” I grumble out, focusing on the city as we continue to speak.
“When you’re a father hopefully you’ll be blessed with the same gift.”
“Yeah, at this time I don’t ever see that happening.” I admit.
“Why, does Carla not want children?”
“I’m not sure. We haven’t exactly gone over that.”
“Okay, so tell me what’s on your mind.” He says, and I think about how lucky I’ve been to have the relationship like I do with my father. Whenever I’m going through something whether it be personal or business I don’t ever have to worry about going to him. He’s always willing to give me advice.
“I don’t know what I’ve gotten myself into. Carla is so much . . . different than I ever imagined.” I leave it at that and expect him to give me some words of wisdom, but what he says surprises me.
“Is that it? You need to give me more than that.”
“She’s not going to be a typical Romanian wife. Hell, I don’t think she’ll be a traditional Italian one either. I’m just sitting here wondering if this is going to be a loveless arrangement.” I admit, running my hand over my forehead in frustration.
“I can’t help but think you want it to be.”
“I’m sorry, what?” I say, flabbergasted at what he’s said.
“If you wanted to be in love with her, you’d try. You’d make more of an effort at whatever struggle the two of you are going through this early on and squash it. Now I’m not asking you to tell me what it is because that’s none of my business. You two are about to be married, which means you’re going to be partners. Philippe, I know how your mother and I raised you. More importantly, I know the type of man you’ve grown into. You must give Carla a chance, and in order to do that you need to get to know the real Carla Moretti —not everything her father has promised her to be, because I highly doubt he knows his daughter in the way you will. She’ll open up to you soon, son. Just be patient.”
“Yeah, maybe she’s a little too open.” I grumble out, hearing my father scoff in the background.
“You’re struggling because Carla doesn’t fit into the box you expect her to, and she won’t, son. Listen, I love you . . . however your mother instilled such traditional values in you. She made you think in a specific way and you know I love your mother dearly, but I should’ve done a better job at trying to prepare you for the fact life may not go as you expect it.”
As much as I don’t want to accept it, he’s right. I grew up in a very traditional household because my father was almost always away for business. This left me with my mother whose family had only ever married Romanian people. “Thanks. I get your point. I’m gonna get going, but I’ll call you soon.”
“Alright. Call me whenever you need me.” He says as I hang up the phone.
For the next hour I spend time feeling like a woman who’s trying to spice up her sex life with her partner. Everything from blow jobs with a donut wrapped around someone’s penis, to people throwing food or having sex in food . . . oronfood. Something like it. I still don’t understand, but I’m making an effort to look outside my viewpoint and not to stay within what I know.
I stay on an article telling me more about sloshing and slowly read it, kind of getting into the idea, but also freaked out too. I can’t imagine getting maple syrup spread around my face and all over my body. It makes me want to shiver, thinking about it getting stuck in certain areas.
“Oh my god. Are you really reading an article about sloshing?” Carla giggles from behind, causing me to jump. I didn’t even hear her enter our apartment.
“Yes, I am.” I admit, turning to face her. I keep my eyes trained on hers, “I realize I’ve been a dick and I’m sorry. It’s never my intention to make you upset in any way and I can guarantee I’ve probably done that already. Listen, I’ll cut to the chase, I’m trying to apologize. You’re so . . . over the top and I’m so . . . boring. I’ve been with many women but none of them have been as bold as you. Hell, I’m going to be blunt here. I want this to work but I’m not an idiot. We’ll both have to put in work to make our relationship successful. I’m not a prude, but I’m certain I seem like one to you. So, I’m willing to negotiate here. You teach me some things I don’t know, but when we’re married you’re mine. I don’t do sharing, Carla. My opinion may change in the future, but it won’t at this second.”
Carla smiles, “That seems fair. Deal.”
