Nine Years Gone

by Shelly Cruz

  “What the fuck was that?” I growl.

  “Why are you yelling at me?” She moves to the side to let a group of women pass us as they’re ascending the stairs.

  “You’re defending that douchebag now?”

  “What? No, of course not!” Her head shakes. “I was handling the situation before you came over and caused a scene.”

  “Caused a scene? You haven’t seen anything, sweetheart. I wanted to fucking destroy him!”

  “I know, which is exactly why I did it.”

  “I can’t believe you defended him. What were you thinking?”

  “Are you listening to yourself? I didn’t defend him! I stopped you from getting into a fight.”

  Her words infuriate me even more. “Exactly! You defended him. I see where your loyalty fucking stands.” I push my way past her and start taking the last flight of stairs down before stopping to say, “I’m fucking out. Go home with Luci.”

  “Massimo, wait!”

  But I ignore her, take the rest of the stairs down, and head straight for the door. The bitter cold shocks me yet feels refreshing. I have so much rage coursing through my veins right now that the cold air helps me breathe. I left my jacket inside, but Lena has the coat check tickets anyway.

  I sprint to get to my Jeep, stick the key in the ignition, turn it on, and peel out of the spot.

  While driving, my phone rings, and I see Lena’s name. I hit ignore. Seconds later, my phone rings again, and this time it’s Rocco. “What?”

  “What the fuck Mass? Where’d you go?”

  “I left. Make sure Lena leaves with Luci.”

  “What? Why?”

  “Just do what I ask! I’ll talk to you tomorrow.” I hit End and toss the phone onto the passenger seat.

  Last night I barely slept because I was too enraged over what occurred at Element. Add Lena not being with me, and it made for a long, miserable fucking night. But I know myself, and when I’m angry like that, I need to be alone to cool off. Otherwise, I’ll say and do things I’ll later regret.

  I drove for hours last night, blaring music to silence the rage. It’s the first time Lena has seen me get so upset. She’s never experienced any of my anger issues. Let’s hope it doesn’t scare her away.

  I know it’s early, but I need to see her, make sure we’re okay. I didn’t call her to let her know I was on my way because I don’t want to give her time to think about what she wants to say when she sees me. I need to see the look on her face to gauge what she’s feeling and thinking.

  When I drive up to Lena’s house, I park behind Luci’s car. I hope she’s awake because it’s early, just a few minutes shy of 8:00 a.m. I knock on the door and wait. I’m about to start knocking again when I see Lena walking down the hall until she opens the door. Her green eyes are puffy and red, with dark circles underneath them.

  “Hi, babe,” I say.

  She reaches out and pulls me into her, hugging me tightly. “I was so worried about you. I called you all night, and you didn’t answer once. I thought something happened to you.”

  “Yeah, I probably should’ve let you know I was fine. Sorry about that.”

  She lets me in before closing the door. We go into the living room, and she sits on the couch cross-legged.

  “What you did last night, that can’t happen again,” she says, adjusting her frames.

  “I know I should’ve answered your call.”

  “That’s not what I’m talking about, although that too,” she corrects me. “If I hadn’t stood in between you and Stefano, you would’ve punched him, or worse.”

  “I know! You should’ve let me!”

  “Don’t you see? You can’t do that. It’s exactly what he wanted, to goad you. That’s the type of guy he is, always looking to start a fight, hit someone. He would’ve pressed charges against you, just to cause trouble and hurt us.”

  “Did he hit you when you were together?”

  She shakes her head. “He came close—pushed me a few times, grabbed my arms really hard but never hit me.”

  Motherfucker! Lena’s words cause my blood to boil. I should kill him. When I found out she was dating him, it took everything I had to not say anything to her about the type of guy I know he is. Being from the neighborhood, we all know he’s a douchebag that treats his women terribly. Not surprising for a guy who disrespects his mother. But I couldn’t be the one who told Lena all these things because then it would look like I tried to break them up so I could hook up with her. She might not have gone out with me if I had. I knew their relationship wouldn’t last. It was just a matter of when it would end. And so I bided my time. Had I known he had gotten physical with her, things would’ve been very different.

  I need to touch her and feel her energy, so I shift my body closer to hers, resting my hand on her leg. “You shouldn’t have stood between the both of us. You could’ve been hurt.”

  She places her hand over mine. “You would never hurt me, which is exactly why I did it. How could you ever think I was defending him? I was protecting you from yourself. My loyalty is yours. You scared me last night. I’ve never seen you so upset like that. Your eyes glossed over, and it’s like you couldn’t see me. If I’m being honest, there was a moment when I was scared, when you screamed at me to move.”

  Her words cause feelings of shame and guilt to creep in. This woman, who I love, was scared of me. I would never, could never hurt her; I only want to protect her. I scoot even closer to her, gliding my thumb across her beauty mark. “I’m sorry.”

  With both of her hands, she grasps mine in hers, kissing them. She starts at the fingertips, moving up to the back of my hand before turning over to my palm.

  “Please don’t do that again. You caused a scene unnecessarily. If you and I have an issue, then we have an issue. I don’t want to argue or make it known to the entire world that we’re having problems. Outside forces weaken relationships. What happens between you and me, is for us to deal with. You good with that?”

  Just two minutes ago, this woman told me I scared her, yet she already forgives me. I probably don’t deserve her. “Yeah, I’m good with that.”

  “As for leaving, if you need time because we’re arguing, I’ll give you all the time you need. I get it. When things get heated, it’s best to cool off before we discuss it, but please just tell me you need it, so I don’t worry about you.”

  “I don’t deserve you.”

  “Why would you say that?”

  “Because I’m an asshole.”

  “You can be, but you’re my asshole.” She stands from where she’s sitting and doesn’t let go of my hand, pulling me toward her bedroom.

  CHAPTER 8

  Shattered

  MASSIMO

  April 2003

  IT’S JUST AFTER 6:30 A.M. when I’m walking through the front door and easing it closed because I don’t want to wake her. I’m exhausted after playing the tables till late then driving home. I haven’t spoken to Lena since Thursday night; her phone kept going to voicemail. I’m mostly annoyed because she does that all the time but never for this long. It’s been more than twenty-four hours since I’ve spoken with her, and I started worrying, which is why I decided to drive home early. I kick off my shoes and pad down the hall.

  When I stop in front of our bedroom, the door is slightly open—weird because Lena always sleeps with it closed. I still remember the first night we spent here. We had just moved in together after dating for a year. I had come into the bedroom when she was already in bed reading. When I left the door open behind me, she demanded that I close it because she was scared of sleeping with it open. At that moment, I didn’t understand her fear, but I’d do anything for that woman, so I closed it without question.

  I nudge the door open, reaching my hand to the right to flick the light switch on. The bed is empty and neatly made. What the fuck?! I stride across the bedroom and into the bathroom, flicking that light on as well. Nothing here either.

  I stick my hand in my
pocket and pull out my phone, flipping it open to dial Lena’s number. It goes straight to voicemail again. Now I’m panicking. Where the fuck is she? Did something happen to her? In a few quick steps, I’m inside our walk-in closet. When I flip the light switch, it’s like someone drove a knife deep into my heart. My step falters. Our closet is half empty. Most of her stuff is gone. The shock of what I am seeing has me frozen in place.

  It’s early, but I flip my phone open again and dial Lena’s mother anyway. If anyone knows where Lena is, it’s her mom. “Hello,” she answers in a sleepy voice on the fourth ring.

  “Hi, Blanca,” I begin, “sorry to call you this early, but is Lena at your house?” I ask desperately.

  “Hello, Massimo. No, Marialena is no here,” she says, still trying to wake from sleep.

  “I just got home, and the apartment is empty. Lena isn’t here,” my voice hitches. “She’s taken all of her stuff with her. I think she left me.” That last line barely falls from my lips.

  “I’m sorry, Massimo, I don’t know where she is. She called me yesterday, but she no give any details, no tell me anything. I call her now and tell her to call you,” she says, her tone worried despite the thick accent.

  “Thank you,” I force the words from my lips and end the call. Next, I dial Luci, but her phone goes straight to voicemail. No surprise there since she bartends at one of the nightclubs on Lansdowne Street on the weekend and probably fell asleep a couple of hours ago. I flip the phone closed and toss it onto the bed. Rage mixed with concern courses through my veins and I punch the wall in anger then pace back and forth and let myself fall onto our bed, tears burning in my eyes.

  How did we get here? I don’t understand what’s happening. A few days ago, we sat on this trunk, and we didn’t just have sex or make love. We worshipped each other, and her body spoke to me as it always did. We were like two pieces of a puzzle, fit perfectly together. There is no way this is happening to me right now; it’s the fucking Twilight Zone.

  I abruptly stand and storm out of our bedroom and into the guest bedroom/office across the hall. Most items in this room are untouched: the computer, the pile of papers sitting to the left of the monitor, Lena’s LSAT study guides for the exam she was scheduled to take later this year, my guitar propped up against the amp. I hurry out of this room and sprint down the hall into the kitchen.

  There in the middle of the empty kitchen counter is Lena’s phone, its cracked screen prominent. I extend my hand across the bar to grab it, and it’s powered off—no wonder it keeps going straight to voicemail. When I lift it, I see her engagement ring and a folded piece of paper underneath. I drop the phone back onto the counter, move her ring to the side, and greedily grab the note.

  Massimo,

  Writing this is the hardest thing I’ve ever done. I love you, and because of my love for you, I’m walking away. You deserve so much more than I can give you. By the time you read this, I will have left Boston. Don’t bother looking for me. I left so you can live out your dream. Thank you for loving me.

  ~ Lena

  Reading the words knocks the wind out of me and causes me to stumble. I need the kitchen counter to hold me up. The only thing Lena’s handwritten note does is confuse me more. What the fuck does it mean? I reread it over and over again to see if I missed anything. No matter how many times I read the words, I am unable to comprehend them. There is nothing but heartache scribbled there.

  Our wedding is in two months, and we planned on starting a family together, so this makes no sense to me. I drop the scrap of paper onto the counter, lean forward, resting my hands along the edge of the countertop. My head drops, and I squeeze my eyes shut, letting out a long breath. “Fuck!” I scream out to the emptiness in the kitchen, in my home, and in my heart.

  It’s early when I get to the restaurant. The kitchen staff won’t start arriving for another hour. After deactivating the alarm and locking the front door, I stride across the dining room to the back stairwell and take the flight of stairs down to the cellar and into the office.

  Lena was supposed to work yesterday, and I need to know if she came in. I open the file cabinet where we keep the weekly reports and pull out Friday’s folder, but her name is nowhere within any of the documents. I toss the folder onto the table to my left, groaning in frustration.

  I pull a chair out from the table and sit, resting my arms on my thighs and hanging my head. I’m at a loss and feel like I am suffocating right now—more questions than answers, confusion clouding my thoughts, pain constricting my heart.

  How long has Lena been planning her escape? More importantly, why? How could I not see this coming? Am I that blind when it comes to her?

  “Hey, what are you doing here?” my brother asks as he takes the last steps down into the basement stopping on the other side of the table from me.

  Rocco is my younger brother by five years, the youngest of the three of us. He reminds me a lot of myself when I was twenty-seven. I always rag on him for being short, although he isn’t really short at five-foot-nine, but what kind of a big brother would I be if I didn’t bust his chops? There is no question we’re brothers though. Other than the height difference, we look like twins, right down to our thick eyebrows and big noses.

  “Aren’t you supposed to be at the car show?” he asks, confusion written across his face.

  “I came back early because Lena’s phone kept going to voicemail, and I haven’t talked to her since Thursday night,” I respond.

  “Did you talk to her?”

  “No. When I got home, she was gone, took her stuff, and left.”

  Rocco’s eyes widen. “What? How is that possible?”

  “If I knew, I wouldn’t be sitting here drowning in my own misery,” I retort.

  “That explains why she got Shannon to cover her shift yesterday,” he reasons. “When Shannon showed up, and I asked for Lena, Shannon told me that Lena had a doctor’s appointment and needed coverage.”

  “That’s it? Nothing else was said or happened? You didn’t talk to Lena?” I ask, digging for more information in hopes that he has something that will help me.

  “Nah, bro. Lena is solid, always responsible. Honestly, I didn’t think much of it yesterday,” he tells me while scratching his head.

  I thread my hands through my hair as I lie back in the chair, tilting my head up and letting out a long, deep sigh. Now it makes sense why she was crying the morning I last saw her. She wasn’t fucking worried about my drive; she was saying goodbye. Motherfucker!

  “All right,” I say as I stand, nudging the chair with my leg. Circling the table, I stop a few feet from my brother and say, “I won’t be back later today. You and Stella will need to deal without me until I figure this out, until I find Lena.”

  “Whatever you need, bro,” he says. “I’ll get tonight’s shift covered since she won’t be here.”

  “Thanks, Roc,” I respond, turning on my heel and taking the steps up, two at a time, out of the restaurant.

  Jogging down the sidewalk to my car, I flip my phone open and dial Luci’s number. Voicemail again, dammit! She never answers her phone. So frustrating! I get in my car, slam the door, and start driving. I crank the volume and let Anathema’s “One Last Goodbye” drown out the noise in my head.

  Luci lives in the apartment she shared with Lena before we moved in together. I’ve been banging on the door wicked hard, and Luci still doesn’t answer it. I need to ease up before the glass pane shatters. She must be passed out sleeping. I jog off the front porch, around to the side of the house, and find Luci’s bedroom window at the back. I look like a stalker doing this, but I don’t give a fuck. I need Luci to wake up so I can find out what she knows.

  I knock three times and call out, “Luci! Open the door!”

  A few moments later, the curtain pulls to the side, and Luci’s face appears. “Massimo? What are you doing here?” she asks while rubbing away the sleep from her eyes.

  “Open the door, Luci!” I say, walking away f
rom the window toward the front.

  Luci is opening the door and I push my way in, passing her by and walking into the house. “What the fuck, Massimo? Hello to you too.”

  Luci is petite, well, petite to me. She’s five-foot-six and has a short pixie cut that’s always colored some shade of red. But don’t let her small stature fool you. Luci’s personality is fierce, and she has a mouth on her. She has no filter and doesn’t sugarcoat. She’ll cut you with her words without hesitation. She and Lena are the same age, twenty-five. Luci moved here from Italy with her family when she was eight, which is when she met Lena. They’ve been thick as thieves ever since.

  “Where is she?” I demand as I’m pacing through the house, searching each room before moving to the next, with Luci following behind me.

  “Where’s who?” she asks.

  I halt in the middle of the living room and get inches from her face. “Luci, don’t fucking lie to me! Where’s Lena?” I yell.

  “You need to back up and chill out, dude. I have no idea what you’re talking about. What do you mean, where’s Lena? Why would I know where she is if you don’t?”

  “The last time I talked to her was Thursday night. She didn’t answer her phone all day yesterday, so I left Mohegan early and came home because I was pretty worried about her. Turns out she ghosted. Packed up her stuff, left me some bullshit farewell note with her phone and ring, and disappeared into thin air,” I tell her, exasperated.

  “What?! That makes no sense, Massimo. Are you sure?”

  “Am I sure? Yeah, I’m fucking sure. Why else would I be here knocking on your door like some crazy person?” I yell, leaning into her.