Say Ye (29 page)

“Lita’s feelings aren’t nonsense. Maybe if you’d been a better mother--”

“Fuck off.” The line droned. She’d hung up.

Lita sighed into his chest. He fingered her hair, slightly moist from the misty air she’d been out in.

“She said she should have had an abortion. She said Aunt Cass talked her out of it. She wishes I never existed. Why couldn’t she have given me to my father or Aunt Angela? They would have loved me.”

“Lee loves you. And if we’d grown up together, we might not be married now, would we?”

“Don’t say that.” She gazed up at him, brushed his lips with her warm fingertips.

He kissed her with a gentle caress.

“Make me forget,” she said.

She slid her hands onto his back. He frowned slightly. How was he supposed to do that? She fused herself to his chest and kissed him. His head tingled with knowing.

“Make me forget,” she whispered again.

He studied her. He grew slightly nauseous with the weight of what she asked, the responsibility he felt for her, her happiness, her security, her love. A sacred trust. He shut his eyes. He kissed her, slowly, softly. He lifted her into his arms and she rested on him, transferred the weight of herself, her hurt, to him.

He eased her down when he entered the bedroom. She stood near him. He quickly peeled off his clothes. Hers he removed with the careful pace you would a fragile package from its outer box. He kissed her cheeks, touched each blessed inch of her. His hands trembled like those of a devout pilgrim who has uncovered a holy relic.

She sighed, her relief released into the air. He led her by her hand to the bed. She waited. Her body shimmered in the moon glow. He hovered over her, now invincible, two celestial creatures experiencing the pleasures of the earth. He closed his eyes. He could almost see himself. His inner self jeered. He gritted his teeth and opened his eyes.

Her eyes sparkled with trust and love. This woman, this sweet, innocent, beautiful woman, gave herself completely to him. Invisible wings lifted him then brought him to her in a complete embrace. He made the movements, but she possessed him, filled every dark corner in him with her light. He radiated warmth and love for her, because of her. Her breath was hot on his neck. She tightened around him, flowed into him as he did her.

Hot, the scorching needles, tentacles of inky shadow gripped him. They constricted until the truth of who he had been obscured everything. Numbness threatened. Frantically, he went deeper in her, needing to discover her again. He grunted and heard the smack of his skin against hers, her tiny delicate body. No. She whimpered and he shook away the fear, the sneering doubt. He forced himself to stare into her eyes. A brief flicker of pain before the sparkle returned. She cupped his face in her hands and kissed him, kissed him until he relaxed into her, complete and spent.

They held each other while the night dimmed the room by degrees, yet his eyes adjusted every time. His heart still beat in an irregular, rapid rhythm. Heavy against him, Lita relaxed and tickled her fingers over his chest. He may have helped her forget, but it caused him to know too much.

His temples throbbed with his mind’s efforts to discern the truth. He frowned. Maybe who he had been was the lie. Maybe Lita’s truth was his own. Or maybe that was only a beautiful, treacherous lie luring him, lulling him into complacency so his base self could corrupt Lita without the tiny shard of goodness in him knowing. He blew out a breath, pushed out the thoughts. None of it mattered, only Lita mattered. This was their honeymoon, what they’d waited for.

She cuddled her head into his neck, like the Golden Retriever puppy Uncle Enzo and Aunt Angela gave him for his seventh birthday. Bile rose up in his chest. The puppy he’d found lifeless on the burgundy living room rug, blood sticky on its silky fur, so much blood from an almost undetectable hole in its head.

His father’s voice reverberated. “You’ll never escape who you are, my son.” First said, the first time of many, while he oiled the shaft of his small handgun.

Lorenzo sat up and thumped off the bed. “I’ll be right back,” he said.

“Okay,” Lita said, her voice laced with disappointment.

He trudged into the bathroom. He stared at himself in the mirror. A tiny patch of light from the window reflected next to his image. His father’s eyes. In every other way, he looked like Uncle Enzo, except his eyes. People called them the windows to the soul. His stomach clenched. Then his soul was black, vacant, a hollow shell always grasping, taking innocence and beauty in a vain effort to assuage its hunger. He gripped the counter.

“’Don’t you forget about me,’” Lita sang, giggling at her rendition of the Tears for Fears song.

He tensed as he struggled to push the feelings back into their lockbox. But he risked trapping love and kindness there too. He stretched and shrugged as he reentered the bedroom. Lita smiled, her teeth flashed in the grey light.

“I’m thirsty,” he said. “Would you like something? Maybe a cherry soda?”

“If you want,” she said. “Do you want me to come down with you?”

“You relax. I’ll be back in a few minutes.”

He pulled on lightweight pajama bottoms and trotted downstairs. He went into the kitchen and picked up the phone. Ringing, once, twice… seven times. He tried the restaurant.

“Nick’s,” he answered.

“It’s Lorenzo.”

“Hang on.” Muffled directions, probably he’d interrupted dinner preparations, but they wouldn’t be open yet. “Something happen?”

“He’s in me. I can’t stop it. Everyone’s been right and Lita’s too good for me. I never should have broken down. I should have kept to what I said and stayed away from her.”

“It’s too late for that now. You just got married,” Nick said.

“I’ll hurt her.”

“What happened?”

“Nothing. I just see him there, sometimes I hear him in my head,” Lorenzo said in a gruff whisper.

“Lorenzo, you are not your father. Lita is not like your mother.”

“But--”

“No, I know there are similarities, but you have to look past that. All the circumstances are different. Most importantly, you and Lita love each other with your whole hearts. Am I right?”

“Yes.” God help him, if He existed.

“You must know your mother never loved your father completely and he knew it. How do you think that was for him? It must have eaten away at him, as the cancer did his body. I don’t excuse him, but I’ve been thinking a lot lately, and I see now how that must have been for him. I believe he did love her, in his way, but especially for a man as possessive as he was, it must’ve destroyed him, knowing your mother was loyal, but there was always a part of her he could never have. Then, when you started growing up, he must’ve looked on you as another rival for your mother’s love, known she loved you more than him. Maybe I’m wrong, what do you think?”

“I…I never thought about it.” Nick couldn’t know the whole truth, the reality of his childhood.

“I’m sorry,” Nick said.

“No, you’re probably right.” It didn’t change the feeling, the empty crevice in his stomach.

“What do you want, son? What do you want most in the world?”

“Lita.”

“That’s simple. So go back to her, right now. She loves you, there’s no reason you can’t work this out, is there?”

“No, I guess not. Thanks.”

This man should’ve been his father. Is that how his children would feel, would they wish for a different dad, maybe Joe or Vincente?

“Take care. Take care of your wife.”

Lorenzo hung up. His hands felt the icy cold of the glass soda water bottle, the cool metal of the spoon he used to mix in the cherry Torani syrup, but inside he dulled, retreated from the uncomfortable emotions. He gripped the two tall glasses in his hands and walked upstairs.

He smiled at the sight of her, reclined in their bed, her arms stretched overhead. She invited him in. He accepted and remembered all he promised himself they would do. Flower petals on the bed, champagne and strawberries waiting. The two of them on a yacht, the waves rocking as their bodies twisted together. Lying on the beach, caressing, kissing, warmed by each other and the sun. Swimming in the clear water, swirling together like sea grass. Days and nights spent only with each other, exploring every centimeter of her until he knew her better than he knew himself.

Their scents mingled, merging into a new fragrance. He gave in to the intoxication, the blur. Lita caressed him, sighed underneath him. Nothing else mattered.

21

Lita slid her feet to the floor. She wiggled her toes on the lush blue carpet of their room at home. Home. She smiled. They’d been home two days. The awful truth of her father’s death, of Jane’s lies, had almost shattered something in her, but their honeymoon, Lorenzo’s romantic gestures, his encompassing love, sustained her. So did her family.

Even this room, where she and Lorenzo had made love the last two nights, christening the bed, the sofa chairs, the shower in their new bathroom, the huge closet, and the spot in front of the fireplace, with their love. Yet, for the second day in a row, Lorenzo chose to go into work, even though he’d said he wouldn’t. He did like to work, she knew. Now they were home, he probably felt compelled to get back to his routines.

The next afternoon, Lita and Lorenzo said goodbye to Uncle Enzo and Celeste, who were already leaving for the Fourth of July party at Vittorio’s.

“We better get ready,” Lita said. “We promised we’d be there.”

Lorenzo followed Lita upstairs, grabbing her from behind as they reached the top. She shrieked but laughed as she broke away and ran into their room. She fell onto the bed and Lorenzo jumped on her, but not really because he never put his full weight on her. He chuckled when she smiled at him.

“Caught me again, you devil,” she said.

“I know you angels get bored and cold up there. Let me warm you up,” he said with an arch expression.

“Nope,” she said.

She quivered with anticipation. He raised an eyebrow and she laughed again. He went in for the mock attack, loudly peppering her with kisses. His hands entered into the fray and she countered with a few moves of her own. They rolled around the bed, kissing and laughing, sometimes crying out when one found a favorite vulnerable spot. Lita boiled with excitement, popping with heat and the fun of the game. Lorenzo pinned her and she nipped his ear. In a moment, he stripped.

“Sexy man,” she whispered.

“Hmm,” he growled.

He raised her skirt and threw her panties aside. Caressing her thighs, he lifted them, pushing gently before he gave her what she wanted. Lita gripped the sheets as he thwacked into her. She flushed, still embarrassed she liked it a little rough. Then she only felt the heat and murmured her appreciation. Lorenzo grunted a satisfied expletive and released her. She sat up and hugged him. He always held her after. He kissed her.

“It’s late. We better go,” he said.

“Okay,” she said.

She followed him into the bathroom. She studied him covertly after they cleaned up and began dressing. He wouldn’t look at her. She bit her lip as she smoothed her skirt. Maybe she’d done something wrong. Her mind played through the day. It had been a calm day, nothing out of the ordinary until now.

“Ready?” he said as he grabbed his wallet off the dresser.

She nodded and he took her arm as they walked downstairs. Her stomach settled. Everything was fine.

Lita clasped Lorenzo’s arm as they made their way outside at Vittorio’s to join the others. The sun shone low in the sky giving the bay a fiery cast. People already sat at the round tables while the food loaded two long rectangular tables. They greeted most of the guests and were introduced to the few they hadn’t met. Most were already filling their plates with food, so Lorenzo led her to the line.

Lorenzo picked up a plate and placed some grilled chicken, potato salad, green salad, soft breadsticks, and fruit on it.

Lorenzo waited, his plate full. Lita quickly grabbed a plate and tossed some food on it.

Lita followed Lorenzo to the table where Vincente sat, now joined by Sophia, Carlo, and Joe. Lita had already seen them at dinner the night before, but she settled in, always enjoying their company. Lita sat between Lorenzo and Vincente. Lorenzo and Joe soon talked sports, baseball from the little Lita heard, while Sophia and Carlo spoke about their vacation plans with each other.