“Thank you. You’ll be over tomorrow?”
“Yes, thank you for the invitation.”
Celeste helped Lita pick out the cheese and some olive oil while they discussed risotto, what lettuce was best this time of year, and how Celeste made her amaretti. Lita lingered, knowing she wouldn’t see Lorenzo, and Uncle Enzo would have dinner at his brother Vittorio’s.
“Do you have plans with Lorenzo this evening?”
“No, he and Uncle Enzo will both be out.”
“You’re welcome to join my grandsons and me. You and I haven’t visited in a while.”
Lita thanked her and followed her upstairs where they stored the groceries and chopped vegetables for minestrone soup. The heaviness which had settled on her lightened as they talked, though when Frankie and Michael joined them, it returned. Frankie teased her about her engagement and marrying young. When she reentered the kitchen after going into the bathroom, he was quiet and didn’t say much the rest of the evening. He and Michael offered to walk her home after dinner, but she wanted to try and see Lorenzo for a minute, as Nick’s was on the way.
If Lee was there, Lorenzo could surely step away for a minute or two. She just wanted to tell him she loved him. Maybe his meeting would even be over by now, it was almost seven.
The chill in the air snapped at her as she stepped out onto the brightly light sidewalk. She transferred the grocery bag to her other hand and slid the sore one into the silky pocket of her fitted leather jacket. Taking a deep breath, she smiled to herself in anticipation of seeing Lorenzo and in the enjoyment of the busy neighborhood street, the buzz of traffic and the hum of talk around her. Soon, she saw Nick’s. The large glass window by the front door shimmered, brighter than the street, but yet more like a glow than a harsh light. She stopped for a second, off to the side by the front door, slightly in a shadow.
She gazed in, hoping Lorenzo was seated at the window so she could see if Lee was with him. There was Lorenzo, in a table by the corner. She recognized his strong profile; his short dark hair looked black. She saw his companion more clearly, she partially faced the window. No sign of Lee. Only Lorenzo and this pretty, smiling, laughing blonde who now touched Lorenzo’s arm, now showed him some papers, now brushed his knee. It was some woman he’d dated before—Lita remembered from a picture in the Chronicle last year. They both smiled, they looked so cozy and intimate. Lita’s stomach lurched. Now she knew why people said you could feel your heart in your throat. She watched for a minute more, only to be sure of what she saw, though she couldn’t be sure of her own vision anymore, clouded as it was by the tears swimming in her eyes.
She turned on her heel and fled. The sounds around her weren’t joyful, but just noisy, the staccato din made more unbearable as it was joined by the sound of her boots pounding a steady beat on the cement, the blood coursing through her faster and faster, echoing tha thump tha thump in her ears. Her head ached. She stopped, glanced around, and wiped away her tears. She had missed the street to head home. She partially retraced her steps and focused on her destination.
She slowed her pace and steadied her breathing. Each intake of the chill air cleared her thoughts a little more. How could Lorenzo do this to her? Could she live without him? Live, yes, she’d been living without him long enough.
She slowly made her way up the block. She would be okay. She unlocked the door, stepped into the grand entrance, and leaned against the wooden bulk of the door. But she didn’t want okay. She wanted glorious, like that painting of the Amalfi coast on the far wall, all shimmering cerulean ocean, cloud-dappled sky, and sun-warmed flowery villas. She wanted warmth, like the plush carpeted stairs on her feet in the mornings. She wanted family, like the DeGrazias whose portrait hung on the wall by the kitchen door. She wanted intensity, love, passion. She wanted Lorenzo.
Uncle Enzo called to her from the kitchen and she collected herself, telling him about her day, giving him best regards from Celeste, asking how his day had been. He stood and studied her, in that gentle yet shrewd way he had, as he told her of the office spaces they’d seen, and Lorenzo’s choice, pending approval from Lee.
“I expected you sooner. Celeste called to tell me when you left. I ought to call and let her know you are here.”
Lita nodded and went to get herself a glass of water as he spoke on the telephone. She smiled hearing the pleasure in his voice, especially when he mentioned Celeste’s coming to dinner tomorrow. Seeing her expression, Uncle Enzo chuckled.
“I’m glad to see you smiling. I ought to call Lorenzo and tell him he’s not taking enough care of you. You should be smiling until it wears us all out at a time like this, newly engaged, young and in love.”
“Please don’t call him. I was smiling at you, anyway. Celeste is wonderful, isn’t she?”
“I can’t disagree with that and I do admit I am grateful to you for finally getting her over here for dinner by herself.”
“Why wouldn’t she before?”
“I hope that’s all in the past now. I’m more concerned with why you seem uspet, my dear, when you say you had such a nice evening with Celeste and her grandsons.”
Lita flushed. She went over to Uncle Enzo, who held out his arms to her. She leaned her head on his chest for a bit. He gently patted her back, as if she was a little girl, which she supposed, to him, she was.
“I walked past Nick’s on my way back here,” she began. “I hoped to pull Lorenzo away for a minute, or maybe he’d be done already, but there he was sitting by the window with an ex-girlfriend. It didn’t look like any business meeting and I didn’t see Lee. They looked, well, intimate, the way she kept touching him on his arm or his knee.” Lita stopped, anger taking over.
“How long were you watching?”
“Only a few minutes, I guess, but it was long enough.”
“Perhaps you were right to break your engagement yesterday.”
“Please don’t worry. I’m going to bed.”
He kissed her cheek, but even that didn’t comfort her.
It wasn’t even nine and here she was all snuggled in bed, yet she didn’t feel the least cozy as she hugged her knees to her chest. She tried reading a book for a bit, then tormented herself by looking at the latest issue of Bride magazine. Now it was ten and still no call from Lorenzo. She picked up the phone on the nightstand to make sure it was working. Maybe she should call, no, yes, she would call. So, she called, but there was no answer. She hung up as his voicemail answered. She curled herself up in the covers and held her hands together. The diamond winked at her in the dark.
“Good morning,” she said to Uncle Enzo when she walked into the kitchen the next morning.
“I take it from your tone you did not speak to Lorenzo.”
“No, he never called. I tried calling at ten, but there was no answer.”
“I see. I suppose you don’t want me to call?”
“No, thank you.”
“Very well. I’m going out to play bocce ball and then have lunch with some friends. Will you be all right? Should I pick Celeste up on my way home?”
“I’m not sure. I said I’d call her today. Would you like some breakfast?”
“I made some coffee and toast, for you too.”
Lita thanked him and sat, but after trying to eat her toast, each bite difficult to chew and swallow, as if it had to move past all her upset, she decided to take a walk instead. She changed and went out into the bright, chill mid-morning. Taking some deep breaths, the air invigorated her along with her quickening, steady movements as she pumped her arms and walked more quickly, her sneakers hitting the pavement in a gentle, fast arc. Jogging in place by the front door of Nick’s, she contemplated going up to Lorenzo’s apartment, but the pit in her stomach stopped her. What if he had someone there? But it would be better to know now. No, she had to trust him. She moved on around her circle of the neighborhood.
Back at home, she showered and changed, twice--she couldn’t decide what to wear. She chose a flirty black skirt,
pink sweater with three-quarter-length sleeves, with hose and heels, though she decided to wear slippers until Uncle Enzo got home. Going down to the kitchen, she made herself a salad for lunch, then pounded out the chicken cutlets. Luckily she bought extra as she got overzealous with the pounding on one or two. The salad greens were ready to go and she didn’t want to do anything else yet.
Now past noon and Lorenzo still hadn’t called. She glanced around. The mellow cream walls with blue accents calmed her. Maybe she should give in to what he wanted, it would be a relief to finally let go. So freeing to be able to trust, to know he loved her, that they’d be making love. But it had become a habit for her to act out of fear and mistrust when it came to men and sex. Lorenzo must wonder at her responses, she held back. Maybe he thought she was frigid or something, maybe if she…She started at loud ring of the phone, which must be Celeste, who she should’ve called earlier.
But when she answered, it was Lorenzo’s deep, seductive voice, saying hello, asking how she was. Lita swallowed, trying to move the lump in her throat and stop the pressure in her ears.
“Lita, are you there?”
“Yes” she managed to whisper.
“Everything okay?”
“Um-hum” she replied, still unable to speak.
Lorenzo was silent for a few moments, the low hum of the phone and her own shallow breathing broke the quiet.
“I meant to call last night. But Lee arrived late and we had a lot to go over. Are we still on for dinner later? Do you want me to pick up Celeste on my way there?”
“Yes, unless you have too much to do. Uncle Enzo said he could pick her up.” Lita again heard that combination of a whine and an accusation she hated. Where was that coming from?
Lorenzo exhaled and paused. “It’s on my way. I’ll pick her up at twenty to five. We need to talk. It’s clear from your tone you’re upset with me again. This is getting old fast, Lita,” he finished in that authoritative voice he had, a tone which only made Lita rebellious.
“Celeste and I are baking after dinner,” she said, feeling his frustration on the other end, but still wanting to tell him to kiss her ass if he didn’t like her tone. He’d probably tease that he’d like to. She blew out a breath. “We should talk, though.”
“Fine, I’ll see you later. I’ve got to make an important call.”
“Okay, bye” was all she got out before he hung up. An important call? She wasn’t important?
She let out a low growl, a muffled version of the scream she held back. She went and ran up and down the stairs a few times, though what she really wanted was to eat a pint of Häagen Dazs Chocolate Chocolate Chip ice cream and watch an old movie, like “Penny Serenade” and have a good cry. But she had things to do and she had to call Celeste. So, she did and then started some baking. Soon enough, Uncle returned and she told him the plan. He said perhaps he could take Celeste home, then, as he’d like to spend a little time alone with her, and he was sure Lorenzo wanted to do the same with Lita. Lita wasn’t so sure, but she just smiled and nodded.
10
Celeste smiled at Lorenzo when he picked her up, but he didn’t. He opened her door for her and then tapped the steering wheel as he drove up the hill.
“My grandsons and I enjoyed Lita’s company yesterday. Did she find you at Nick’s?”
“No,” he said. His mind popped with jealousy and suspicion.
“Oh, perhaps I should have had Michael and Frankie walk with her.”
“She could have called a cab.”
He felt Celeste’s collected gaze on him. He faced forward. His hands gripped the steering wheel hard, as if he drove on a windy or dangerous stretch of road.
“They wouldn’t mind escorting her. She is only a year older than Michael.”
“Right.” As Lee reminded him last night, Lita was just out of college. She should be starting a new career, experiencing life, like Celeste’s other two grandchildren, Gina and Frankie.
When Lorenzo entered the kitchen behind Celeste, he exhaled. Lita stood at the stove, a picture perfect housewife, with her pastel pink sweater, full black skirt, hose, heels, even one of those ruffled half aprons. He greeted Uncle Enzo and sat at the table. Celeste turned with a raised eyebrow to Uncle Enzo and Lorenzo. He ignored her gesture as he did Lita.
Lita had dinner mostly prepared, but she asked Celeste to help with the salad dressing, saying she could never seem to get it right. He couldn’t get things right either. Celeste nodded and explained her simple dressing of oil and vinegar. She set the salad on the table as Uncle Enzo got the wine then she returned to the stove to see if Lita needed anything else.
She glanced questioningly at Celeste, who smiled and said, “I think you have things well in hand.”
Lita looked down and asked if she thought the rice was done. Celeste took a fork and tasted a few grains.
“Yes, just the cheese now.”
“Thank you,” Lita replied, turning off the burner. “Won’t you sit down and I’ll serve.”
Celeste took her seat next to Uncle Enzo, across from Lorenzo, who sat in moody silence. Lita brought the risotto and cutlets to the table, which she obviously set earlier, a vase of chrysanthemums in the center, and thanked Celeste for her help. Lita really loved all this old-fashioned domesticity. Maybe if this was the nineteen fifties, they wouldn’t have so many issues. Then again, everyone would doubt him regardless of the year.
“Nonsense,” Celeste said. “You did all the work, but thank you for inviting me. I begin to think you didn’t really need me to come over. I hope you didn’t let Enzo talk you into anything,” Celeste said in a teasing tone.
Lorenzo maintained his deadpan expression while Lita flushed.
“No, really, it was my idea. I wanted…” Lita hesitated, clearly flustered.
Celeste opened her mouth to speak but Uncle Enzo said a prayer and complimented Lita and Celeste on dinner before he commenced eating. Celeste and Uncle Enzo talked while Lorenzo and Lita sat next to each other. He glanced at her often but the air between them sat heavy like some invisible bodyguard who prevented him from reaching her. As Lita stood to clear the table, Celeste offered to help, but Uncle Enzo stopped her, volunteering Lorenzo instead.
He rose, but Lita turned to them with a sharp “No.” Lita blushed and stammered, “I mean…no, thank you, I can manage.”
Lorenzo sat back down in his chair with a thump and an uncomfortable silence followed, soon broken by Celeste, who asked after their success in looking at offices yesterday.
“We found a good location,” Lorenzo began. “Lee still needs to see it and he’s checking over the paperwork, as well as the contract with an interior designer I know, Tamara Sorensen. She’s the best in the city. Has great taste, modern, simple but elegant, just the kind of image we want.”
Lita walked over and gripped the back of her chair.
“Yes, you know her, don’t you? Why don’t you tell them how thin and pretty she is, too? Or about the lovely suit she was wearing last night? Or--”
“That’s enough, Lita,” Lorenzo said in a low, harsh tone. He knew where she was last night. Flirting with Celeste’s grandsons. “Were you spying on me?”
“Don’t use that tone with me.” Lita glared at him, her face crimson and her hands shaking. “You lied about Lee being there. I know you used to date her. Do you even care? Did you think I wouldn’t know?”
Uncle Enzo stood and took Lita’s hand, as Celeste sat, her hands clasped.
“She was not spying on you. She was walking back from Celeste’s in the hope of talking to you. I can’t say I blame her for the way she reacted, all things considered. Why you would hire someone you used to…I think we all know what I mean.”
At his uncle’s words, Lorenzo pushed himself up and away from the table.
“What’s the point? You both have me guilty already. Celeste, I’m sorry you had to be here for this. ‘Night,” Lorenzo said before he walked out.
He would leave. Lita cried, but
better a few tears now than what he might cause if he stayed. He grabbed his coat, but Uncle Enzo blocked the door.
“You won’t leave my girl like that,” Uncle Enzo said, his voice rising dangerously.
“None of you want me with her anyway,” he growled.
“Don’t put this off on us,” Uncle Enzo yelled.
“Why not? Maybe if you left us alone, we might have a chance at happiness.”
“What do you know? You’re still a boy! Twenty-eight and no idea how to be a man!”
Celeste appeared behind Uncle Enzo and put her hand on his arm. He stopped mid-sentence, glanced at her and exhaled.
“What do you suggest?”
“Perhaps Lorenzo and Lita should talk? That is what she wants. She told me she doesn’t want you to go, Lorenzo,” Celeste said as Lorenzo looked toward the kitchen.
For a moment, he softened. When he was a boy, he believed. He had hopes and dreams, the same hopes and dreams Lita had. He couldn’t smash all that out of her, the way it had been slammed out of him.
Celeste turned and Uncle Enzo took her arm as they walked back into the kitchen. Lorenzo followed. Lita’s eyes were wide and hopeful, though they sparkled with tears.
“Enzo and I are going to make some coffee and I’ll get out the tarts you made. We’ll bake amaretti next time. You two go and talk,” Celeste said in an even, firm tone.
Lita wiped away the last of her tears and smoothed her skirt before he followed her out, across the foyer, into the living room. He turned and shut the pocket doors after looking across the foyer as Uncle Enzo swung the kitchen door shut.
He sat on the sofa, legs crossed, arms splayed over the back of the cushions.
Lita stood, nervously gripping her hands. “I shouldn’t have said that in front of them and I know I’ve been sounding…”
“Petulant? Childish?” Lorenzo finished for her. Maybe he didn’t know how not to be an asshole.
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