In This Life (17 page)

Read In This Life Online

Authors: Christine Brae

BOOK: In This Life
10.5Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub

“So, you know that I’m working on Christmas Eve all the way until the 26th, right?”

“And I’m going to Chicago with Dante.”

“Yup. He’s going to take you with him to spend the holidays with his family. I’ll see you back home on the 27th so that we can drive out to visit Dad.” I was plagued with dismay by my very own words. “I’m sorry that I won’t be with you.”

“No biggie. You know I enjoy being with the Leolas. They’re all so good to me.”

“They’re good people. And they love you.” I lovingly reached out to ruffle his hair. It was thick and light and full of curls. He set his eyes shyly on the floor; I missed the days when he was more loving, more demonstrative. As the years went by, I saw the effect that my mother’s passing had on the both of us. It was as if showing too much emotion would cause us to break and crumble into little pieces. For as long as we skimmed the surface, the tears could be held in place.

The chime of the doorbell was a welcome intrusion to the wistfulness of the moment, and Mikey stood up to answer it. It was Josh, the college junior who lived on the floor above us, asking Mikey if he wanted to come over. “Annie?” he called out to me. “Is it okay if I go over to Josh’s to play video games?”

“What about dinner?” I asked, while walking towards the kitchen. “I can make it right now.”

“No need,” answered Josh. “My mom made some really good meatloaf. Mikey is welcome to have dinner at my place.” Meatloaf? Someone had time to make a meatloaf when I couldn’t even find the time to shave my legs?

Mikey pasted a large grin on his face. This kid loved to eat. “Please, Annie? Can I just have dinner over there?”

“Of course you can, if that’s really okay with Josh. But call me every hour just to check in. I want to make sure that Josh isn’t having a wild college party up there tonight,” I teased them lightly.

Mikey rolled his eyes, though I knew that he always took my instructions seriously. There was no surviving without each other; we protected each other, made sure that we were always safe. He slipped on a pair of running shoes and was out the door in a second.

I breathed a sigh of relief. I needed this time to be alone, to collect my thoughts, to wrap my presents, and write a letter to Dante.

One hour later, as I stood to admire the beautifully wrapped presents placed neatly under the tree, I ran my hands along the pretty little ornaments that Dante and I had collected over the years. We had so much history together—each little figurine on the tree was a reminder of the trips that we had made and the places that we’d seen. The fondness that I felt for him came rushing back; I decided that nothing in my life was more important than to make amends with the man who saved my life. Before doing that, however, I needed to address some unfinished business.

“Hi!” Maggie answered the phone cheerily. “What’s new? I tried calling you a few times but you didn’t pick up.”

I wasn’t ready to talk. “You told me that he was never coming back because you knew.”

“I did, and I’m sorry I didn’t tell you.”

“Maggie! How is it that the entire world knew but me?” I asked, annoyed and disappointed at the same time. I couldn’t help it, my voice lifted higher by a few notes.

“It killed Dante to keep it from you, Sparky. He really wanted to tell you, but it happened at the same time that you lost your mom, and he didn’t want this to add to your pain. And so when we talked about it, I did tell him that I was sure you’d get over it soon. I mean, you knew the guy for ten days! I figured it would take you one year tops to forget about him. I honestly never knew that you would still be thinking of him five years later!”

I took a sip of my tea and sat in silence phone in one hand and fingers picking on the leather piping that ran down the sides of the couch. Outside the gray sky was bursting with snow dust. They floated slowly in the air and melted before they touched the ground.

“Sparky? Are you still there?” she asked with worry. “Do you want me to come over? Donny is out of the country for a few days.”

“How long was it before you knew you loved Donny? How long were you in Europe?” I demanded. It helped to throw her cynicism back in her face.

“Spark—”

“How long, Maggie?” I asked, forcing the issue. I clenched both my hands and teeth in distress. The ugly fact was that two of my closest friends had held the truth from me, no matter the intention.

“Three weeks. I was in Italy for two,” she conceded weakly.

I had made my point, and there was no need to say anything more. I didn’t really want to hurt her; all I wanted to do was to place what she felt for Donny in the context of my ten days with Jude.

“Spark, let me come over,” she continued.

“No, no, it’s starting to snow outside. And I’m trying to get all my Christmas stuff organized before my shift at the hospital. Thank you for the offer, though.”

“What are you going to do?” she asked.

“I don’t know. I need to figure things out. But I want to do it in lockstep with Dante. We started this together, and we are either going to continue it, or end it together. We—I mean, I, suggested we take some time off. I can’t shake him, Maggie. I can’t forget about Jude.”

“Hey, listen,” she said, pausing to collect her thoughts. “The reason that you and I work so well together is because I’m the ditz and you’re the brains.”

“Yeah, that volleyball really rattled your brains around,” I joked.

She met my witticism with silence. “You’ve always been the one to use logic in every decision that you’ve made since I’ve known you. Take it from the ditz this time. This is extremely illogical, and doing what’s right on paper won’t work. Do what’s right in your heart. Dante is here for the long haul, but he can’t wait for you forever. You need to figure out whether you want to put him through some half-hearted relationship when you know that he deserves better.”

I heard the creaking sound of the twisting doorknob. “Hey, I think Mikey’s home from the neighbor’s. I’d better go and spend some time with him before he crashes. I’ll call you tomorrow?”

“Yes, call me tomorrow,” she replied. “I’d love to see you before your schedule gets crazy again.”

“Okay, we’ll see what we can do. Talk later. Bye!” I pressed END on the phone just in time to find Dante standing by the door.

 

 

 

I JUMPED TO
my feet, anxious but ecstatic at the same time that Dante had driven over to see me. I ran to greet him, throwing my arms around him, and showered him with tiny kisses on his face.

“Hi. I’m so glad you’re here. So glad.” I proceeded to unwrap the scarf from around his neck, and unbuttoned his coat.

“Hi, Spark. I thought we should talk,” Dante explained as he held his arms down to help me slip it off.

“No fighting, no arguing. I don’t want to fight with you, please,” I begged. He looked weary and dejected, and his empty stare broke my heart. He wore the same unfamiliar pair of glasses; they felt like an intruder in our home. “Your glasses. I thought they were just for reading.”

“Apparently I need them to drive now, too,” he answered, lifting me up and carrying me over to the couch at the same time. He took a seat and placed me on his lap. I held on to him, my arms wrapped tightly around his neck. “Maybe I’m just getting old,” he said.

“Right. You’re not even thirty, Tey. We have a hundred years ahead of us.” I pulled off his glasses and gently laid them on the empty seat next to us. We sat for a few minutes, my face buried in his neck, his fingers tracing a path down my sides. I pressed myself against him and rocked back and forth. His body began to relax, the weight of his arms now holding me against him.

“I’ve missed you. I’m sorry about the other night. I’ll make it up to you,” I said, blowing gently in his ear before nipping it lightly between my teeth and licking a trail down his neck. He lifted my shirt up over my head, and I willingly removed my bra, exposing myself to him completely. He devoured me hungrily, expertly moving from one side to the other, while his fingers settled themselves between my legs.

“Take me to the bedroom,” I murmured breathlessly. I needed him so much, and I wanted to prove to him that nothing would ever change.

“Tell me what you want me to do to you, baby.”

He was back, the man who helped me to forget the past five years, the man who loved the broken, messed up parts of me.

“I want you to tear my heart open and fill me up,” I whispered huskily. “I need to have you now.”

 

 

“I WANT YOU
to know that I didn’t come here to get you in bed with me,” he declared as we lay in bed one hour after he’d arrived. We were still undressed, his head and shoulders held up by pillows against the headboard, me facing downward with my head in his lap. I lovingly brushed the hair on his legs with the tips of my fingers.

I lifted my head to look at him slyly, and his face broke out in a wide grin.

“Oh, I want to give you your Christmas present. Wait right here,” I said as I slid off the bed and moved towards the robe that hung on the opposite end of the bedpost.

“Spark, you can’t walk around like that!” he teased.

“Wait! Hold your horses, buddy. I’ll be right back.”

I ran back into the room with a square black box in my hand.


Et Voilà
! Merry Christmas,” I squealed as I handed him my present. He pulled me back onto the bed, and I complied by sitting next to him, facing him with my knees hugged tightly to my chest. “Open it!” I ordered excitedly, while bouncing up and down on the mattress.

He tore through the wrapping paper impatiently, pulling on the ribbon until it snapped in two.

“What is it?” he asked as the box came into view. “Oh my God, Anna You shouldn’t have. How much did this cost?” He lifted the watch out of the tissue paper and slipped it on his wrist. Its large round face was etched with gold roman numerals and encased in blurry antiquated glass. The brown leather strap was brand new and so was the golden clasp on its end.

“Wasn’t that the one you were looking at? The vintage watch we found in Palermo?” I asked nervously, afraid that I had purchased the wrong one.

“Where did you find this?” he asked excitedly as he brought the watch closer to his face and scrutinized its bezel. “It still has the original parts.”

“Donny had a reseller in Italy who found it for me. I’ve been paying for it since last year. Sort of an Italian version of a layaway.” I laughed. “But wait, turn it over,” I instructed, taking hold of his arm and twisting it.

“I need my glasses,” he said, looking embarrassed.

I ran to the living room and jumped back on the bed with them in my hand. Gently, I slipped them on his face, careful to lay them on his nose, tucking the stems behind his ears.

He turned the watch around, read the inscription and smiled at me, a brilliant smile that confirmed to me just how much I loved him.

Dante Leola, Love of my Life. From your Spark, 12-25-2010

“Tell me, Spark, what does it mean to be the love of your life?” he asked, gently placing his hand on my knee. I reciprocated by laying my cheek against it.

“It means that I love you most in my life. That you are my greatest love. That my love for you is real and true, and it comes from the bottom of my heart.”

“And Jude? Who is he to you?” he asked carefully, his words were stilted and unsure.

“He’s a ghost from my past.”
There are many of these ghosts, you know. They taunt you for what you were, what you had and what could have been. I want to face them, want to jump in and save myself from my own fears.

“Do you love him?”

“I’m not sure I love Jude. How can I love him based upon the few days that we spent together? He’s a force that pulls me towards him, a cliffhanger in a story in need of an ending. I look for him, I want to be with him.” I paused as I saw the pain on his face. He shut his eyes tightly and let out a deep breath. “Please,” I appealed, “I don’t mean to hurt you. I want to be honest with you.”

“Go on.”

“He’s like an unfinished song in the story of my life. The words bombard me every single day, they come to me in my dreams, demanding me to finish them, to complete them. It might not be love, I know it can’t be love. But it wouldn’t be fair to you to pretend that I don’t want to see him, to seek out some answers, to know for sure that I’m over him. You know, I realized in the past few weeks that I met Jude at a time in my life when it was falling apart because of my mom. And then I lost my mom, and I couldn’t deal with another loss. So I focused all of my energies on the hope of seeing Jude again because I didn’t want to face my problems. If anything, I need to tell him this.”

Other books

When Mercy Rains by Kim Vogel Sawyer
Confessions of a Heartbreaker by Sucevic, Jennifer
Honor in the Dust by Gilbert Morris
The Mummies of Blogspace9 by Doonan, William
White Satin by Iris Johansen
Spent by Antonia Crane