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It probably just means Phillip and Mila got through to him finally and he’s putting his best foot forward in the interest of his restaurant and our collaboration.
“I’m glad you came today,” he says.
“Well, you gave Mila the card.” See, this is just him making peace. But he remembered I wanted to dance way back when and he started dancing himself. Damn it. How could I ignore the gesture?
“I was really hoping you’d show up and we’d run into each other. I started with tango because of you.” He shoves his hands into his pockets and it feels like he speeds up.
“You weren’t interested all those years ago.”
“I guess there is a right time for everything. Tango grounds me. I took lessons right after you left. I wanted to surprise you and take you dancing when you came back. I dropped it for a long time after… after you decided to stay in California. But I got back to it. It reminds me of what I’ve lost because I was stubborn and focused on the wrong thing. It keeps me in check.”
His words turn in my stomach like poison and honey. He danced because of me. He still dances because of what the two of us destroyed. It’s his source of reflection. Just like for me, dancing has become a lifeline. The painful memories resulted in joyful coping mechanisms.
Massi’s confession, the sheer fact he allowed me to see this side of him, makes me want to tell him everything. But my shame at my choices is stronger, well-developed, since I’ve been nurturing it for years.
Then he asks a simple question, which in our universe of regret and lost chances is loaded, and I wish I didn’t come to the milonga today.
“Are you happy, Blue?”
ChapterFourteen
Gina
17 years ago
“My dear, you deserve better. That marriage has only brought you grief. A jealous man is the worst news. He’s consumed by his need to prove himself and he blames you when things go wrong because of his own insecurities.” Frederick wiped his hands on the hand towel attached to his apron.
It was my night off and I was leaving just as the dinner crowd started to arrive. Yet Frederick found the time to talk to me. To help me. Lately, it had seemed he was the only person on my side.
Part of me agreed with Frederick, but there was a bigger part, a louder part, screaming with love for the man who kept hurting me.
When I had first laid eyes on Massimo Cassinetti, I was only fifteen years old. Not even five years later, the man had made me the happiest woman in the world and simultaneously broken my heart into a thousand pieces.
We hadn’t spoken for two weeks now. Since the night he’d accused me of ruining him and his dreams. I knew the alcohol played a part in his harsh words, but I couldn’t make excuses for him anymore. Frederick was right, I deserved better.
“Regardless of the situation, I still love him. I can’t turn that off.” I hated how needy I sounded.
“And where has he been the last two weeks? I’m a chef, just like he wants to be. Ten years ago, when I was starting, I was just like him. And you know what my only regret is?”
I shook my head. We stood by the back door. I was ready to leave, but I had nowhere to go. Staying with my parents the last few weeks had been a nightmare.
“That I married this job. Massi is full of passion. Look, he wanted you and he got you. But his true love is the kitchen. I recognize that calling because it takes one to know one. For your sake, Gina, because you deserve to be appreciated, I hope he realizes soon there is more to life than culinary art.”
Frederick hugged me, his support helping only slightly. The lump that had lodged in my throat after that dreadful night in the hospital had only grown steadily in size. Under the influence of Frederick’s words, it had now blocked my airways.
On my walk to the subway, tears pooled in my eyes. Frederick had denied any deliberate interference with the SoHo location and I had no reason to doubt him. He had been looking for a second location for a while.
I sat in a half-empty car moving through the underground of my home city and mulled over Frederick’s words. He was right—Massi was passionate, but not only about his work. He was passionate in all areas of his life. And most of all when it came to us.
His love was all-consuming, burning, dangerous, but also rewarding and hot. Massimo made me feel like a queen. Like I mattered. Like I was the only woman in the world.
But was that enough? He equally made me feel small, insignificant, a burden. We seemed at odds more than we were in sync. And then there was the pregnancy.
As devastating as the miscarriage was for me, Massi was glad it had happened. I knew that it probably was for the best. We were so young and so lost, but that didn’t mean I wasn’t grieving.
Regardless of how I looked at the situation, the only conclusion was that we’d made a huge mistake rushing into this marriage. The thought broke my already shredded heart all over again. And still I couldn’t articulate the solution to our problem.
Or rather, I didn’t want to.
