“I wish I’d known her,” Lita said, glad they’d arrived home.
“She would have loved you, I’m sure,” Celeste said with a sad look in her eyes as they entered the house.
“I didn’t mean…I’m glad we have you.”
“I know and I’m happy too. Sometimes I still miss my Frank, though, as Enzo does Angela. We help each other and it is nice to be needed.”
“I better go up and change. I know you want to do the same,” Lita said.
She hoped Lorenzo was done with those kinds of mistakes. She hoped Lorenzo needed her as deeply as she did him.
“I have time if you wish to talk,” Celeste said as Lita started up the stairs.
“Everything’s fine,” Lita said. “See you in a bit.”
She said goodbye later to Uncle Enzo and Celeste when they left for Nick’s, after which they would go to see a movie. Lita foolishly started dinner, thinking Lorenzo wouldn’t be late, but he was and they ate lukewarm tilapia and rice, not speaking beyond small talk you might make with a stranger. The roses he brought her were pretty, though, and she tried to concentrate on them as they ate.
Lita’s stomach jittered as she brought out the strawberries and champagne, worried her plans would fizzle, like they often did. Lorenzo gave her a seductive smile when she entered the living room. He had the movie ready. She frowned. She should have planned something more romantic, she could have worn something sexy, instead of the cute red dress she wore, but Lita was unsure when it came to being sexy. She set the tray on the table and sat next to her husband.
“Couldn’t we take that upstairs?” he said.
“I wanted to watch the movie,” she said.
She knew he frowned, but she needed him to hold her and watching a movie with him was a sure way to accomplish that goal. He drank a glass of champagne before he took her in his arms. She tried to feed him a strawberry, but he shook his head.
“You go ahead,” he said.
“I don’t want any either,” she said. She put it back and leaned into his embrace.
A few times during “Gigi” Lorenzo tried to kiss her or caress her, but she brushed him off. She wanted to lay in his arms until she forgot about their problems. As usual, he gave up after awhile, but Lita knew why he acted distant as they turned off the television and the lights downstairs and walked up to their room. When Lita came out of the bathroom, he sat up in bed reading. He didn’t even look up. She climbed into bed and pulled out her journal, writing for a bit then taking out her book since he still read.
As she listened to the silence, broken by the rustle of a page turning, or a car going by outside, or far away voices, she thought about what she could do. She had tried. She’d even spoken to Joanna a few weeks before, who said it sounded like Lorenzo wanted a lady in public but a freak in bed. Joanna had laughed, but stopped on seeing Lita’s distress. Lita felt she could be more passionate and naughty, but when she tried, it didn’t seem to work out.
Except for a few times, like at the bar or the video she’d made for Lorenzo’s birthday. But those times were like the rare four leaf clovers she hunted for in the grass when she was younger, found only occasionally. Each time she made some small mistake or Lorenzo didn’t respond, she drew into herself, frightened that no matter what she did, Lorenzo wouldn’t be satisfied. After all, he had over three hundred women to compare her to, she, who’d never done much beyond kissing with anyone before Lorenzo. She still wasn’t sure she did everything right and she knew Lorenzo wouldn’t tell her. And now…she stifled a sob. Lorenzo closed his book with a subdued thump as she put hers on the nightstand.
He put his hand on her arm and she glanced at him. He slid over to her. His fingertips traced a line from her forehead to her arm. She put her arms around his neck and moved under him. He studied her, she closed her eyes. He kissed her and smoothed his hands over her. A pleasant warmth spread through her and she tried to push his bottoms off, feeling momentarily self-conscious as he stopped to pull them off himself before he undressed her. She wrapped herself around him again, sighing in contentment at the feeling of his sturdy strength on her.
Soon her sighs became tiny moans as he kissed her, caressed her, moved himself inside her. She wanted to scream, but instead gripped him tighter and smiled at feeling his satisfaction. She kept her legs around him, reluctant for him to move, but her own pleasure released him and he lay back. He took her hand in his and kissed her palm. She thought he trembled but it was probably only herself.
While they tried to fall asleep, Lita’s mind wouldn’t quiet. She looked at him and he opened his eyes.
“How long do you want to wait before we have a baby?” she said.
“I’m tired.”
“Why can’t you just answer the question?” She twisted the sheet in her hands.
“Why do you keep bringing this up? You agreed to wait.”
“For how long? We never talked about it.”
“Have you been lying all this time? Are you even taking your pills?”Lorenzo sat up. He was angry again—there had been times she’d forgotten to take her pills.
“How can you ask me that?” Lita wouldn’t look at him.
“Quit acting so fucking innocent. You’re not stupid.”
“Don’t talk to me like that,” Lita said.
She wanted to be angry but she was too raw from everything. Lorenzo promised things would be different once they married and they were. They were worse.
“Stop crying and answer me!” Lorenzo yelled.
Lita flinched and hugged herself. He’d never talked to her that way before. Sometimes they yelled at each other, but only when they were both mad, not like now. She glanced at him and scooted away further. All the fury drained from his face as he paled. Lita wanted to hold him, but he got up.
“I’m sorry,” he whispered. He dressed with such haste Lita barely realized what he did.
“Don’t go, Lorenzo, please,” she said as he went to the door.
“I have to,” he said, stopping to look at her.
She couldn’t see him clearly in the grayish light of the night. She pulled her knees up, the white sheet draped over her body, her hands clasped, praying he wouldn’t leave. He always left. His swift steps swished over the carpet.
“Please,” she whispered. He shut the door behind him.
25
Lorenzo walked. Walked until the darkness, the night fog, hid him. Walked until the chill air dulled his body, if not the burning in his gut. He had his keys. He let himself into the back door at Nick’s and scuffed upstairs. His old apartment on the top floor, unused, dark, and empty, beckoned him. The black leather couch was barely visible in the shadowy room at the end of the hall. He sat.
“’You’ll hurt them no matter what you do,’” his father’s voice splintered the quiet.
His father may have been a cold, heartless bastard, but he’d been right. He hurt Lita, over and over, fooled himself into thinking he could escape his father’s awful legacy. He should have known better than to hope, to let faith and love creep into his life.
Because who had taught him he should believe in those things? His mother, his mother who let his father beat them. Who prayed in church every Sunday for peace, but wouldn’t give Lorenzo respite from his father’s tirades. Who watched as Lorenzo cradled the lolling head of his dog in his lap, crying his last tears…until Lita.
He thought she could fill him with her light, her hope, her love. But he was a cracked cup. It appeared to hold liquid, but slowly, each time, it drained away through an invisible break. He might still have his father’s old gun…no, he didn’t want to die. But he’d rather kill himself than keep hurting Lita. He was a coward, not man enough to either be the man Lita needed, the man he should be, or leave her once and for all. He put his head in his hands. The door squeaked open.
“Lorenzo, son?” Nick said. Maybe there was a God. “Lita called me. She’s worried about you.”
Lorenzo gripped his hair and pressed his for
ehead.
“Come downstairs with me and we’ll call her. I promised her I’d let her know.”
Lorenzo glanced up. Light from the outer hall shone around Nick.
“Follow me, son,” he said, his hand outstretched.
Lorenzo did, blinking in the hundred-watt brightness of the hall.
In his equally well-lit apartment, Nick called Lita. Lorenzo didn’t hear, he’d gotten himself a glass of water as Nick spoke, the gurgling patter drowned out his voice.
“I’ll drive you home,” Nick said, slipping on his tan loafers.
Lorenzo nodded.
Nick waved from the driver’s seat when Lorenzo turned in salute after opening the front door. Distant voices from Uncle Enzo’s sitting room drifted under the closed door. Lorenzo hung up his keys and jogged upstairs.
Lita still sat in bed, as she had when he left, angelic. The pristine ivory sheet covered her and the light from the window behind the bed highlighted her hair. He opened his mouth to speak, but no sounds came out.
“Please don’t leave again,” she said.
“I won’t. Did you need to talk?”
“Not now. Maybe tomorrow?”
“We’ll try.” He might be all talked out by then after seeing that therapist tomorrow morning. “I’m sorry.”
“I know.” She scooched down, her head resting on her pillow.
He undressed, all his movements reversed from when he left earlier. He wished he could rewind to when they made love. He lay down. Lita slid next to him. He folded her into his arms and didn’t let go until morning.
That wasted, uncomfortable morning. Except making love with Lita. A silent morning, as Lita didn’t seem to want to talk anymore than he did. She styled her hair twice and smudged her mascara, necessitating a makeover. He frowned. She must be nervous, though why he couldn’t guess, unless she thought he wouldn’t go to his appointment.
He almost didn’t. He walked up to the door and away several times before entering the waiting room. The doctor had agreed to meet on a Saturday, so the tiny room’s three chairs sat vacant. Lorenzo paced a few moments. His hand rested on the doorknob when the doctor came out, greeting him. Lorenzo went in.
After almost an hour, the doctor, Dr. Martin, rose and caught Lorenzo’s eyes as he too stood. “Are you certain you want to continue? You seem reluctant to speak of your past. You’ve only told me about your wife, but little about yourself. Deflecting my questions won’t be a productive use of our time.”
“Can you help me or not? I want to change…”
“If you’re willing to work with the process, you can help yourself. I see you don’t buy that, but it sounds like you’re aware your behavior needs to change. Awareness is the first step. If you’re comfortable, you could begin by telling your wife your feelings, what you hope to accomplish, or more about your past. I’ll see you next week, then?”
Lorenzo nodded and walked to his car.
He sat, the heater blasting dry and hot. Feelings, too many feelings slithered through him, scaring the shit out of him like the snake pit in “Raiders of the Lost Ark” flipped out Indiana Jones. He didn’t want to get down there with those snakes. It was easier not to feel.
Lorenzo drove around town aimlessly. His stomach growled. He happened to be near Lita’s old neighborhood. Mel’s Diner on Geary was just over a hill.
He sat on a stool and ate a burger and fries. He hadn’t had one in years. He and Lee came in sometimes when they were in high school, sinking their teeth into the juicy burgers and fries, crispy on the outside, soft on the inside, sometimes slurping shakes, vanilla for Lorenzo while Lee never had the same flavor if he could help it.
Talking about girls, usually, or their crappy math teacher, or how they’d beat the shit out of the track team from Sacred Heart Cathedral Prep. Lee was normal, or as close to normal as Lorenzo wanted to be friends with. Not that he had much choice when he started. His reputation followed him from Cathedral Prep, where he’d been expelled at the end of freshman year. Lee was the only guy bold, or stupid, enough to sit with Lorenzo at lunch his first week there. He wiped his mouth with the scratchy paper napkin and pushed a twenty under his plate. Lita would wonder where he was.
When he walked in the front door of home, quiet buzzed.
“Lita?”
“In here,” she called. Probably the living room. She sat on the sofa, the TV cabinet in the corner open. Black and white images filled the screen. Cary Grant. She usually turned to Cary Grant when she was upset. She glanced at him. “Okay?”
“Yeah,” he said.
“You have lunch?”
“Yes, you?”
She nodded. He sat next to her. She took his hand. She turned her attention back to the movie. He turned his to Lita.
As the movie ended almost two hours later, the phone rang, distant on the kitchen wall. Lorenzo stood and stretched. Lita followed behind him with her empty mug.
Lorenzo answered, assailed by rapid, frantic Italian words. After a minute, he recognized the voice. “Silvo, I can’t understand you, you’re talking too fast.” Lorenzo motioned to Lita. Silvo, Nick’s sort of adopted son, hardly ever called unless there was a crisis at the restaurant.
“So sorry, it’s Nick. There’s been an accident…” The phone banged against the wall.
Lorenzo ran to the foyer and grabbed his keys. He gasped like he’d just sprinted a hundred yard dash.
“We’ll be right there,” Lita said. Her bare feet smacked over the hardwood floor. “Wait for me,” she said, slipping on a pair of flats she kept by the door.
Lorenzo made it to Nick’s in three minutes.
“Silvo! Dad! Where the hell is everyone?” Lorenzo yelled before spotting Nick and Janice by the host’s stand. A reddish lump marred Nick’s forehead.
“Lorenzo, calm down,” Nick said. “I’m fine.”
“You don’t look fine, that’s a nasty bump. Where’s the guy who did it? I’ll--”
“I fired him, he’s gone. Janice called someone she knows to take his place. What are you doing here?”
“Silvo called and told us what happened. Shouldn’t we get you to the hospital?”
Lita had filled him in on the drive over. His breathing steadied.
“No, I’m fine.”
“At least go upstairs and relax.”
“No, I have to make sure everyone is all right and things go smoothly.”
“Silvo can do that, or Rudy.”
“You should sit down,” Lita put in. “We can stay with you. I know what to look for.”
“Yes, we’ll take you upstairs,” Lorenzo declared.
“Don’t I rate a hello?” Janice said.
Lorenzo and Lita greeted her, Lita with a hug.
“I have to stay down here, at least until this new chef gets here. Ah, that must be him,” Nick said as they all turned to see Marco, Paolo’s boyfriend, who looked much more serious than he had when last they’d met. He smiled, though, as Nick and Janice greeted him and soon rattled on in Italian with Nick. The two went into the kitchen, while Janice, Lorenzo, and Lita followed to the back where they waited.
“He’s okay,” Janice said. She had a crease in her forehead which made her words seem insincere. “You look almost as bad as Nick.”
Lorenzo grimaced. “Thanks.” He rolled his eyes at her.
She laughed. “Maybe you two should go home so you can rest.”
“And leave you as nurse? I don’t think so. Lita’s more capable and caring than you.”
“Lorenzo…” Lita said with a hint of warning while she rubbed his back.
“It’s okay. Maybe you’re right. So we’ll all stay,” Janice said as Nick came out, beaming.
“Thank you, that man is a gem. I should put you in charge of all my hiring,” Nick said to Janice. She smiled and shook her head. “All right, I’m willing to be led upstairs. Silvo knows my number if they need me.”
Once they had him settled with a fresh ice pack, he insisted Lorenzo show J
anice his old apartment, which she was considering renting. Lita could sit with him.
Lorenzo led Janice upstairs and waited while she looked around. He stared at the couch, where he’d sat last night. Janice came out from the second bedroom.
“Thanks for showing me the place. You’re sure you don’t mind if I take it?”
“Why would I? I know you two are friends. I think he’ll enjoy having you around. Just be a better neighbor than I was and don’t saddle him with all your problems.”
“I know he didn’t mind. He, well, we all…oh hell. You take care of yourself and that wife of yours. I’m actually starting to like her, so don’t screw up.”
“I love you too, Janice,” Lorenzo said, laughing. “Lita’s starting to like you, too, so I guess we’re stuck with you.”
“That’s family,” she replied as they went out the door to go back to Nick’s.
The four decided to have dinner downstairs and went into the dining room, where Silvo took care of them. Lorenzo placed his napkin on his lap, no paper here. Lita studied him. No talking time now. He blew out a breath.
When Marco came out of the kitchen to greet them, Lita jumped up, giving him a big hug. They spoke for a minute, Lita in halting Italian, before Marco rushed back to the kitchen, busy with preparation for the filling-up restaurant. Janice shifted in her seat.
“You know Marco?” Janice asked as they continued their meal, obviously trying to keep the bitterness out of her tone, but Lorenzo heard it.
“Yes, isn’t he great? We get together sometimes and he’s made some fabulous lunches for Paolo and me after we’ve gone shopping. Paolo knows all the best shops.”
“He mentioned you have a keen sense of style.” Janice smiled and clenched her teeth. She had a jealous streak three lanes wide, even for her friend’s affection. Must run in the family.
“He’s a smart man.” Lorenzo smiled. “We had them over for dinner a couple weeks ago. We all had a good time.”
Maybe he could change. He actually liked Paolo and Marco. He never would have considered being friends with a gay man before, but they were just like everyone else, he saw now.
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