Love is Just a Moment (6 page)

Sometimes your entire life can change on the spin of an imperceptible needle, launching off in an unimaginable trajectory, which begins, on the surface at least, as a moment like any other. As it happens you are oblivious, preoccupied, but looking back you always know it for exactly what it was—that single instant when the tides of fate finally rebelled against your ordinary life and shoved you forward into something far more meaningful, fulfilling and, yes, finally even terrifying. For me, it started that day in Gino’s Café, with Lisa as we waited for the others, and if I had any idea then of the unbelievable new direction life had in store for me I think I would have ran a million miles. Now though, even after everything that happened, I wouldn’t change a thing. Of course I wouldn’t…

Even as I was sitting there, the February sun spilling in through the windows of the empty café illuminating the red and white
-
checked tables around us, I was still unsure of why I’d actually agreed to do this. Could any good from the arrangement? Sure, I loved the big dumb galoot, but it wasn’t as if I owed Lisa my support or assistance here, no matter how close we were. After all, I reasoned, by caving in and agreeing to join her on the “date” I was really doing her a
disservice
, wasn’t I? If she wanted to get involved with my moronic, posturing, typically alpha-male brother and his messed up lifestyle and poorly-thought out choices then I should have been doing anything in the world
other
than actually assisting her in making such a terrible mistake—shouldn’t I?

And yet here I was, the squeaky fourth-wheel to a total freakshow of an automobile that was just this minute tearing down the highway of life, about to burst into unholy existence, and no amount of oil or TLC was going to silence my squeaking about it this time. It was enough that I’d even agreed to be here in the first place. If Lisa thought my role at the table was to be the second feminine presence in the double date that would satisfy her and Lou’s bizarre attempt at doing something “coupley” then she could go ahead and think whatever the heck she liked.

No, I was here as
chaperone
only, to watch over her and watch out for her and, if I’m being honest, to watch to see if I could figure out just why in the world was she suddenly interested in Lou in that way to begin with—because I was well and truly stumped in that regard. And as for the second
masculine
presence in this upcoming tête-à-tête-(à)-tête-à-tête? Well I could only imagine what kind of unsavory tough guy jerk Lou would be dragging along with him this time.

The Café was quiet that day, something that would have usually caused me to worry (it was after all the sole livelihood for both Gino and myself), but now it felt more like a saving grace. At least this way nobody would be around to see Lou embarrass himself with his over-the-top posturing. It was truly cringe-worthy, especially here on the Orange Grove, the close-knit Italian-American neighborhood we grew up in and where everybody had known us since childhood. The fact that it was known that Lou had had a good education and a (mostly) decent upbringing only made it worse when he acted the way he did, because people would know that he was capable of better. In fact only a few short years ago, I remember him as a gangly, bookish high-schooler with thick glasses and a mild but pervasive shyness—two years older than me but somehow almost
younger
, if that makes sense—and no matter what he did now I felt certain that that was how everybody else remembered him too. (And ok, so maybe he had more excuses than most people to lash out and rebel, but didn’t I as well? And when had I ever acted out or behaved impulsively or let my emotions get the better of me? Never. Somebody in this family had to keep their head on straight—if you could even call it a family at all anymore, which was, in fairness, up for debate…)

“You girls are looking more radiant than usual, eh? Must be some special guys today, eh, husband material!”

Gino laughed heartily to himself as he swept up the unused saucers off the table and replaced them with ones that were only marginally newer, his chuckle rumbling up all the way out of his paunchy stomach and causing his faded old apron to quiver with delight.

“Hardly,” I smiled, “like I said earlier Gino, it’s only Lou and his friend—and really you don’t need to freshen the table, we’ve only been here for a few minutes.”

“Eh,” Gino shrugged in that old passive Italian way that comes on somewhere far past the fuming and possessive young stallion stage and paradoxically seems like its exact polar opposite in manhood. “You two make even the newest dining-ware appear shabby in comparison. Are you sure these boys aren’t something special to you, no? Looking so beautiful the two of you…”

Lisa’s eyes shone with enjoyment as she smiled up at him, lips painted with a dark purple gloss to set off the streak in her dyed-blonde hair. “Gino, you old cad,” she grinned, “I bet you were one to watch back in the day…”

Gino threw up his arms in a quasi-self-deprecating shrug that seemed to say: well… I’ll never tell.

“Hey, seriously,” I said, “it’s just a casual coffee is all. Why don’t you go upstairs and take it easy. Have you eaten lunch yet? If anybody comes in I can serve them.”

“And distract you from more important things? Not at all Sandra. My Café, my rules. Sit!”

Gino could be commanding when he wanted to be. I bet Lisa wasn’t wrong when she guessed at his rakish younger days. Before I could protest Gino was off on the rounds, singing to himself in old Italian as he wiped the already-spotless tablecloths of the other tables around us. Lisa shot me a wide-eyed excited look like she’d really gotten a kick out of the old coot’s playful teasing. Gino was great. He was like the father who hadn’t failed me.

They were typically and irritatingly late—to be expected from Lou and his arrogant attitude to life—although I have to admit that when I looked up to see my brother at the door I was surprised by how much he’d changed since the last time I’d seen him, which had only been about a month or so previous. First of all there was the hair, now shaven right to the skin and causing his caramel-colored flesh to end in a shiny perfectly-rounded dome at the top of his head. Then there was the goatee and the ear-ring. Wow, he actually looked ok—not that I’d be letting him know that I thought so, of course—Lou didn’t need any fresh excuses to further inflate his new-found ego.

But still, he was my brother and I loved him so I couldn’t help but smile when I heard the bell ring and glanced up to see the jerk pushing open the clear-glass door to enter. What I guessed to be an equally-involuntary grin spread out over his face as he let out an arrogant shout.

“Oh! Two beautiful women! What have we done to deserve it?”

Lisa jumped up to run to my brother, leaning up to kiss him on the cheek and instead of cringing at the sight of them, my eyes focused on the shape of the guy behind them as he came into view.

Yes, he was kind of exactly like I would have expected and yet somehow he wasn’t at all—not even in the least bit—and if you want me to explain what I mean by that then you’re out of luck, because I wouldn’t have been able to tell you then and I certainly wouldn’t attempt it now.

But I can tell you in detail what he looked like, yes I can tell you that at least. The man behind Lou—and he was a man, I could tell that immediately, even if he was roughly the same age as Lou’s still-boyish 21 years—was a little bit taller than my brother, with a similarly well-toned and muscular build that was probably requirement number one for guys like him when they set out to make their street-cred, although the way he carried himself was totally different to Lou and yet somehow still
kind of
similar. He radiated the same aura of toughness, but without any of the effort that Lou seemed to go to great efforts to expel.

Yes he was, in his black leather biker’s jacket, boots and jeans, an obvious threat in his every intimation but somehow, also unlike Lou, it wasn’t because he was trying to be. He just
was
. And his face, paler than Lou’s and made even more so because of the dark almond eyes that shimmered from his solemn expression, it was—forgive me—it was beautiful. He wore his hair longer and slicked back in that traditional Italian way that always kind of irked me but now somehow only further intrigued me, as if hundreds of thousands of old-blooded Sicilian generations were calling me back to the homeland through an eternity of primacy and lust and destiny and—

Yes, all this flashed through my mind in the space of a second or two, before I had time to catch myself and pull myself together. Jeez, thousands of generations of primacy and lust? I needed to get out more, seriously.

But damn, even though I was sure I’d want nothing to do with him once he opened his mouth, I couldn’t help but admit that whoever he was, this guy was the sexiest thing I’d seen this side of a TV screen in months, maybe even years. Shame about the company he keeps, I thought.

The guy looked back at me, his big round eyes peering at me in a way that I couldn’t quite read but seemed to suggest something like… I don’t know, powerful interest or something? Whatever it was, I looked away quickly, reminding myself that I was here as chaperone,
only
.

“Hey sis, how you doing?”

Lou leaned down to kiss my cheek as I rose to greet him, putting my arm around his muscular frame. “Hi Lou,” I said, “you look great, really.”

Crap, I hadn’t meant to say that, it just sort of came out and now it was too late.

Lou chuckled in his big gruff voice. “You telling me? Like I don’t know…”

Jerk.

I looked past him, letting my gaze linger on his friend, waiting for the introduction and hoping to hell that my uncertainty and agitation wasn’t showing.

“This is Romeo,” Lou said, “I know right? What a faggy name.”

“Oh!” Romeo protested immediately, although clearly in a humorous, obviously affected way, as if, not only was he being good-humored about the joke, but he was actually above the whole idea of being joked at anyway, merely pretending to play along out of his own private and untouchable goodwill. Or something like that… Man, I was really reading way too much into this guy. I hadn’t even said hello yet.

“Hi, my name’s Sandra,” I said, putting out my hand in what I hoped was a purely platonic way, “but most people call me Sandy.”

“Sandra,” Romeo smiled, “your brother’s told me a lot about you. I know he acts like an ass but he’s alright. Seems to really care about you too.”

His voice was slow and considered, tinged with the roughness of the street but also deep and rich and somehow sophisticated, as if it was also, like Lou’s, mainly a put-on. But somehow I couldn’t see this guy ever feeling like he had to pretend to be anything other than whatever it was he felt himself to be on the inside. It didn’t make sense and I felt kind of dizzy thinking about it, as if there was some crucial piece of the puzzle that I just wasn’t seeing here. Little did I know how right I was, but time would show me the error of my ways in that regard…

He took my hand firmly and shook it and I felt a tingle at his touch, despite the fact that I was sure the gesture was for him also certainly platonic. Even though that was how I had deliberately presented myself, I couldn’t deny now feeling a mild disappointment in the pit of my stomach at being treated by him in the same way.

“Pleased to meet you,” I said, surprised at how small and girlish my voice sounded when it came out.

Across from us Lou pulled out Lisa’s chair for her to sit (chivalry? really? Who was this guy and what had he done with my brother?) and I felt my eyes travel automatically to Romeo’s face, startled to see his eyes coolly on mine with a wry little smile touching his lips. What—did I expect him to pull out my chair too? Of course not, I was the
chaperone
, wasn’t I?

“Please, sit,” I said, “welcome to Gino’s.”

“So you been to see mom lately?” Lou asked, taking his attention from my best friend for one solitary second.

“Not since last week,” I said, “she’s doing ok—as good as ever I suppose.”

“I saw her this morning,” Lou answered, “you should really get up to see her.”

That was rich, coming from him. I was the one who always looked out for her. Sometimes Lou wouldn’t go up to the nursing home for months at a time. And now, what? Just because he was trying some kind of new faux-grown-up attitude he was going to reprimand
me
? Where was he getting this from anyway?

I decided to let it go, not least of all because the presence of this cool, dark young man in the leather jacket was somehow, despite my best intentions, absolutely and completely dominating my emotional attention. I felt as if something was pulling me to him and I was afraid to even look at his face when I spoke. What the heck had come over me?

“So how do you know my brother?” I asked, hoping against hope that it wouldn’t be anything other than some jerk-wad wannabe criminal stuff, so that I could hold that against him at least and somehow denigrate this near perfect image he was casting before me.

I noticed them share a furtive, private glance and thought: thank god! He
is
just an arrogant hoodlum. He almost had me fooled for a minute there.

“Oh,” Romeo shrugged, “this and that. We do some work together.”

“In the bar, you mean?” Lisa asked.

Lou worked part-time in the campus bar at Chicago City University (CCU) where me and Lisa were freshmen—which was why I avoided the place like the plague—although wherever he got the money to fund his lavish lifestyle from, it certainly wasn’t doing a shift or two a week there. Call it wishful thinking on Lisa’s part, then.

Romeo and Lou looked at each other again with that secret, conspiratorial man’s look and then he smiled. “Uh… no,” he said, “not the bar.”

Lisa pouted as if she wanted Lou to explain and I thought to myself: good, at least now you’ll have to admit to yourself what he’s
really
like.

Unfortunately, at that moment Gino appeared at the table and clapped Lou on the back before ruffling his scalp like he was still a little boy and I had that to enjoy, if nothing else.