“Yes, thanks. I’ll make the call to a newspaper in the morning.”
“In the meantime…” she said, as she pulled out a bottle of Merlot, “…we have this and I’m famished. I picked up a couple of sandwiches. Ya hungry?”
Nick grinned. “A little.”
“Good! Can you come over to my place? I have to feed my cat.”
Inside, she nudged an impatient Scruffy away from the apartment door, put the bag on the table and busily went about setting up the cat’s food. She then spread the drapes to the front windows to the sides; red velvet drapes that hung from ceiling to floor.
She opened the window to a cooling breeze. “There, that’s better.”
A strawberry candle, half used in its tulip shaped jar, was placed in the middle of the table. Lighting it, she put an old CD into a player; “Mare calmo della sera Sanremo”, turned it down low and returned to the table with a slight smile.
“Are you going to have a seat, Mr. Santinelli?”
“I heard that CD before. You play it often, don’t you?”
“Yes, I do. It relaxes me.”
Looking down at her, He stood before the table, scrunched his lips together and nodded. “This is cozy.”
“Well? Are you going to sit?”
“Oh, sorry.”
Quiet while they ate, Jaime finally said, “Will you be all right?”
The sad look on Nick returned. Sighing, he said, “I can’t help but worry. I guess I’ll know more in a few days. In the meantime the wait is eating at me from the inside out.”
“Let’s sit by the window. I love the maple tree. It gives such good shade, doesn’t it?”
Nick looked. “Yeah...I guess so.”
“Here,” she said, handing him red Merlot in a stem-less wine glass.
“Nice.” He took a sip. “The lawyer thinks he’ll be able to get me visiting rights while the case is pending.”
“That’s great news. Where is he now?”
“Curby? I don’t know.”
“When you go, I want to go with you.”
“He’ll like that.”
She lifted her glass. “To Curby!”
“To Curby!”
(Clink!)
Two days later
(Ring)
Nick picked up the phone.
“Hello?”
“Yes…hello, is this Nick?”
“Yes, this is me.”
“It’s Martin…you know, your lawyer.”
“Yes…Mr. Briscotti.”
“Martin!”
“Okay! Martin.”
“It’s all set. I petitioned the court for custody and explained the whole entire story to the judge.”
“Good, how long will it take, the process I mean.”
“From beginning to end? Who knows? Hopefully not too long. After all, a child’s future is at stake here.”
“Is there any way I can see him?”
“I was waiting for you to ask that. I also sent along a petition for visiting rights. They just faxed it back to me. I’ll give you the number for the caretaker. You’ll have to make your own arrangements.”
“Yes, that’s fine. Thank you very much. This means a lot to me. Where is he?”
“Up in the Bronx. Do you know where Van Cortlandt Park is?”
“Vaguely, but I can find it. What if I get there and they say no?”
“Nope! They can’t do that.”
“But let’s say they do, what then?”
“Then, I’ll file another petition alleging violation of the order. We’ll kick their asses in.”
Nick smiled.
“Stop by the front desk before you leave and my secretary will give you the proper papers, okay, Nick?”
“This sounds too good to be true.”
“Nah! Just leave the mumbo jumbo legal stuff to me. Enjoy your visit.”
Sunday
Jaime met Nick outside at 9:00 A.M.
“What’s in the bag?”
“Curby’s blue dump truck and baseball glove.”
“Aw…you’re so thoughtful.”
“This is the address. I mapped it out. I have a pretty good idea where it is.”
“No GPS?”
“I’ve been meaning to get one.”
Jaime smirked, wrapped her arm around his and snapped, “Come on, Mr. Magellan. Let’s go find him!”
The two story brick sat among others of like design, every one of them identical.
Curby sat on the front lawn, a young girl of eight at his side with a coloring book opened and the page half finished. In deep concentration, the boy did his best to keep the point of a brown crayon inside the lines.
Outside the plastic picket fence, Nick stood with Jaime and waited quietly until Curby finally noticed them.
“Daddy,” he yelled. He ran to the fence to Nick’s waiting arms.
“I missed you so much, little buddy.”
“Daddy, Daddy, Daddy!” The boy couldn’t hug him enough.
“I want to go home, Daddy.”
“I wish I could take you, Curby. Did you say hello to Jaime?”
His son waved his fingers. “Hi, Jaime.”
Jaime kissed him, and then again, followed by a big hug.
“Don’t leave me with that lady, Daddy?”
“Let’s go inside and let them know we’re here to take you out.”
Nick opened the gate and was met at the screen door by Annette Dubois; the lack of a greeting smile, tellingly apparent.
“Hello,” Nick said, Curby snuggled in his arms.
“Yes, I know who you are. You’ll have to make your visit out there.”
He handed her the paperwork. “That’s my name on the bottom.”
She snatched it. “I know the procedures. You got two hours.”
Making the best of the visit, Nick and Jaime took Curby to the park. After a timely walk they found the playground.
“Push me on the swing,” Curby said.
“How high do you want to go, Bridge Commander?”
Captain Curby shouted the order. “To infinity and beyond!”
“Yes, sir!”
The boy laughed and giggled the higher he went. After a while, Nick slowed him down and tickled him in the sides. “I think its Jaime’s turn.”
“No, no…that’s okay,” she said, backing away.
Curby would have none of it. He grabbed her by the wrist.
“We’re on a mission, right Daddy? I mean pilot, Daddy.”
“Aye, aye sir.” Nick saluted him and quickly spun around, grabbing Jaime by the waist.
“Eeeee!” She screamed.
It was no use. The overwhelming forces had the edge. She finally gave in, sat on the swing and held on for dear life.
Nick pushed her hard. Before long she was flying high and gasping with her pony tail blowing behind her. Her glasses flew off and landed in the soft sand.
“I haven’t done this in years. This is crazy.”
Nick shouted, “Captain! I think the alien has had enough. Should I bring her down?”
“Okay, Daddy!”
“I think she’s ready to tell us what she knows.”
“Put her in the dungeon.”
“Aye, aye, Captain!”
Slowed to a stop, Jaime jumped off only to be handcuffed (using an Invisible star command restraint of course) and led to the fence line.
Curby jabbed his Type 2 Phaser 2306 weapon--otherwise known as a forefinger--into her gut and demanded, “Where’s your spaceship?”
Giggling, Jaime said, “Inside a cave way underneath the ground. You’ll never find it.”
He picked up her black rimmed glasses and put them on.
Nick chimed in. “Tell us where it is or we’ll cut off your tentacles.”
“My testicles? I don’t have any of those,” she said.
Nick raised his brows. “Uh…no…not testicles, tentacles. You’re an alien…remember?”
“Okay, then give me some money,” said Curby,
jabbing his finger into her side.
“What is this, a robbery?”
“Give me your gold, or you’re going to jail.”
“I think you should be the one going to jail, mister.”
Reaching for her glasses which were ready to fall off the boy’s nose, she said, “Give me back my space goggles or I’ll bring you up on charges with the…uh…interplanetary…justice league…court thingy guys, whatever.”
Nick checked his watch. Oh, crap! We better go.
At the house, Annette was waiting with her hands on her hips.
“It’s about time. You’re almost late.”
“Then we’re on time,” Jaime huffed.
After a sad goodbye, Nick promised to return the following Sunday. The ride home proved grueling with heavy traffic. Ahead, the FDR Drive was at a standstill. Nick got off just in time.
He said, “Let’s park somewhere and wait until the traffic lightens up a little.”
“That’s okay by me. We’re not far from central Park. Let’s go there?”
“At this time of day the parking might be a little tough. We can certainly try, though.”
He found an open spot at a meter on West 72nd Street and put in eight quarters. The walk toward Strawberry Field was busy with pedestrians--the streets; a sea of yellow taxis.
Entering the park, the stone path they took led to the decorative, Imagine memorial, a tile mosaic covered with a scattering of leaves from nearby maples. Hints of sunlight mottled down through the branches and onto the tribute to John Lennon’s legacy.
Nearby, a guitarist played an improvised rhapsody, the strummed chords and innuendos, reminiscent of a Spanish Flamenco dance.
Nick held Jaime’s hand and said nothing as he followed the long, nimble fingers as they lightly engaged the frets and strings.
The two strode on through the park, side by side with Nick’s arm around her waist and Jaime’s around his.
“I want to thank you for being such a strong pillar for me. It would have been a lot harder if I had to do this on my own.”
Jaime looked up at him, a handsome, strong man in her eyes, one who was sensitive and loving at the same time. How could she not feel for him? Time and again she tried to avoid the pitfalls. She’d been there and thought she knew what to look for, but this was different. This was so very, very different.
Central Park could be any of a number of lush forested valleys in the Northeast. Take away the tall manmade structures and one would be hard pressed to believe that all of this greenery could exist within the midst of one of the largest metropolises in the world.
The walk took them to the lake. On one side, lush weeping willows spread green sweeping arms over shadowed shores. Birds played in the breeze, the rowboats, paddling their wakes into dark waters. Overhead, intensely blue skies reached into the voids between tree and skyscraper--white clouds mere understatements against the pronouncement of stone monoliths.
He turned to her fully, his pulse quickening, his mind blank of words. He held her hands and gazed at her, a face that was no longer plain, but instead, so very beautiful in the afternoon light. With delicacy, he reached for the black glasses she wore and lifted them from her face; her brown eyes, large beneath long lashes. His every emotion shuddered throughout his body. Their lips touched, gently and heartfelt, prolonged, yet, far too soon, over.
Leaning back, he said, “I wanted to do that for a while.” So did I,” she said.
They embraced. He put his hand on her lower back and pressed her hips into his.
For Jaime, she welcomed the moment. She knew now where she wanted to be, from this time and forever.
How could I have deceived myself for so long? This is truly what I want.
At her door, Nick held her by the shoulders and gave her a long and loving kiss. “Thanks for a great day.”
Oh, Nick, you’re not going to leave now, are you?
Jaime hadn’t realized she was staring. “It was fun. I enjoyed myself. Would you like to come in for a glass of wine?”
She had intended on saying that in a normal voice. Instead, it sounded to her as if it had screamed out forcefully, blurting outwardly from her trembling lips like a desperate fool.
Nick smiled. “Yes, I would.”
They sat by opened drapes, on two chairs facing each other with a small round table between them. On it burned a candle in a dark room left otherwise unlit. Outside the window, expansive and cleaned bright, the late sun shined the street, the maple out front, casting moving shadows, its leaves, gently waving in the evening breeze.
They talked about their past, their dreams and their wants. When the glasses emptied they were filled again with wine that was so very deep red and dry to the taste.
A fine wine to mirror her passion;
rubescent and lingering
Reclined, she fragrantly sits
So deeply red, so flushed her lips
Teasingly seductive, eyes shifting,
eyes meandering
Her inner wants, she lay reposed
ne’er to leave herself bare
Rather--to stay aloof, she flounders,
sips and ponders—listens and shares
Daylight turned to night, the subdued street lamp all that lit their faces. In the background “My heart will go on” played low and sweetly.
Nick leaned forward, took the wine glass from her and set it down on the table next to his. He stood and reached out with his palm facing up.
She stood in kind, curtsied, and was guided to the center of the room. There he held her by the hand and waist--the dance—light--their bodies--separate--the turns--gentle.
As they continued, he drew her nearer until their bodies touched; barely at first and then closer still.
“Could you play that song again?” he asked. Jaime pressed the replay button and closed the drapes all the way. She took off her glasses and placed them carefully on top of the table next to the lighted candle. She struck a match and lit two more candles, left them on the stone mantel and was all that lit the room.
The melody played dreamily on, the dance, slow with gradual turns. Their lips touched. She waited for him to do it again and when he did, she teasingly pulled away. He touched them once more, just as soft, then to her chin, back to her lips, brushed them with his own and gently sucked in her upper lip. She playfully nipped back. His mouth opened. She opened hers. He immediately enveloped her, but only for a brief moment, moved over to her neck and gave her little kisses along the length of it.
While he lingered there deliriously, she spoke in a very low and sultry voice. “So…in which direction were you planning to take us, Mr. Magellan?”
Nick continued to give her little kisses, his deep voice returning just as soft. “To infinity and beyond.” Toying with his lips with her lips, she said, “And how do you propose to do that?”
“With my rocket ship,” he readily answered, licking under her jaw and nibbling her ear.
She quivered when he had said that.
“You won’t hurt me will you?”
“Do you mean during or after?”
“Both!” she said.
Impassioned, Nick unbuttoned his shirt, leaned back to remove it, let it fall away and returned to press his lips onto hers.
“That depends on how well you travel,” he teased. Jaime kissed him hard, breathed deeply and resumed the lighter touch.
His T-shirt was removed next and then he unbuttoned her blouse.
“What if I resist?” She whispered.
“Why would you want to?” he whispered back.
His mouth opened to her darting tongue that went deep inside. He returned to her jaw and kissed it lightly, undid his belt, pushed his pants down and stepped out of them. His lips brushed across her lips and then he kissed her deeply.
Hearing the pants fall to the floor quickened her breathing. She pressed herself into him. “So now you think you have me where you want me?”
Their lips never separating, he a
nswered, “All I know is that I want you.”
“And I want you.”
The kisses became more passionate and prolonged. Nick held her tightly and cupped her round buttocks through petit panties. He stooped down and pulled them slowly past her thighs and on past her calves. Holding onto his shoulder, she stepped out of them.
They danced, burning skin to burning skin, and when the music stopped, kept dancing in the ensuing silence.
Leading her to the couch, he kept his lips on hers while lowering her down. His entry was slow and gradual, the steamy interlude building to a passionate desperation for both him as well as her. It surpassed everything she had hoped for and when it was over they remained in their embrace.
Martin Briscotti’s office
“Nick, I wanted to see you today, because I have good news. We got a court date. We’re going to see the judge.”
“So, how does it look to you so far?”
As was typical of him, Martin spoke loud and boisterously. He paced about, his arms flailing this way and that as he spoke.
“Not good! That bitch in the Bronx wants permanent custody. We’re going to have to come up with a miracle. Unfathomable as it may seem, she actually has a husband…poor slob. Not only that, they have a decent and stable income and a long standing relationship with Children’s Services.”
“It sounds like you know her?”
“That loud mouth screwball? She was a witness for C. S. more times than I care to remember.”
“When is the court date?”
“Oh, we have plenty of time for that, thanks to the city’s backlog. At least another two weeks. I’ll give you all of the particulars on the way out. You’ll need to be there along with any character witnesses you can drum up…you know…like…people of good standing. Yeah, like the mayor. That would help. You wouldn’t happen to know him, would you?”
“No, I don’t think so.”
“Right! Then we’re left with whatever lowly crumb nobody you may know from the neighborhood. Make sure they wear a suit and tie, or a nice dress if it’s a woman, of course. You, too, Nick. It’s important for the image.
“I understand.”
“Then we’ll see you there!” The lawyer extended his hand.
“Thanks for everything!” Nick shook it. “By the way…is there any way we could get more time with Curby? Two hours a week and that drive all the way up to the Bronx; well, it’s really not enough time.”
Curby Page 6