Dating da Vinci

by Malena Lott

  “Nice ducks.”

  “I'm thinking of naming them. Besides, I don't want Mrs. Thompson to haunt me if I remove all of her beloved ducks.”

  “Oh, yeah?”

  He pointed. “That one on the left? He's totally Mr. Quackers. And the one on the end? Yellowbelly. That's all I've got.”

  I laughed. “So this is why you wanted the house?”

  “Think you might slip over at night after you tuck the boys in? We can come back here and rock, and you can tell me all of your troubles.”

  “Troubles?”

  “As in problems, trials, tribulations, woe, grief, heartache.”

  “I know what it means, thankyouverymuch. What makes you think I have any of those things?”

  “Because you're human. And I'm a good listener. And I always have a good bottle of wine to wash it down.”

  He placed his hand on the back of the swing, his fingers brushing the skin underneath my T-shirt. I wanted to wriggle away, but couldn't. I wondered if he touched me long enough if I could figure out why his touch felt so different than da Vinci's. “I suppose a late-night visit every once in awhile wouldn't be a bad thing.”

  “And you'll let my daughter play on your cul-de-sac?”

  “Well, as long as she can keep up with my boys.”

  “Deal?” Cortland held out his hand for me to shake.

  “Deal.” When I stuck out my hand, he turned it and kissed my knuckle. “Okay. I should get back to the boys.”

  “Does that include da Vinci?”

  “He's moved some things in.”

  Cortland nodded. “I guess I'll be seeing you both tomorrow, then.”

  I left, feeling lighter and heavier at the same time. I wanted to turn around and tell him I'd like to make him 35 Across and shop at the lighting store and walk on his concrete floor with my bare feet. But I kept it tucked inside, like a secret daydream.

  I wiped the drool from my mouth and then my dissertation notes when I awoke to the sounds of a man singing, before it registered it wasn't a man singing at all, but many men singing. Joel's wall clock read 10:30 p.m. Da Vinci was late. Again.

  Groggily, I roamed through the house, listening for the source of the singing and my heart sank when I saw the Scrabble board was still on the kitchen table, untouched. Damn da Vinci.

  The singing continued. Whatever it was, they were at least in unison if not on key, but I couldn't make out the words. It sounded old-fashioned and muffled, nothing like you heard on the radio in this day and age. TV in the living room? Off. Clock radio by the bedside table? Silent. The singing got louder as I stepped into the foyer when the sight of candles flickering outside caught my attention. The singing was right outside my front door. My heart sped up. What in the world? Isn't it a little early for caroling?

  Cautiously, I opened the door to find nearly fifty young men on my lawn surrounding da Vinci. I noticed they'd brought out the whole cul-de-sac: Gabriella and Jesús and Zoya and Donald all watched the scene. Even in the light of their front porches, I could tell they were amused. I waved to them, shrugging my shoulders in embarrassment. Was this some kind of pledge hazing?

  In an instant, my boys were down by my side in their pajamas staring out at the serenading frat crowd.

  Most girls I've met I'll soon forget,

  They could never be true

  'Cause for me there is only one

  Who could stand for the Gold and Blue.

  In my heart is a girl with a smile on her lips

  Lovely to see, precious to me

  With her eyes like the stars

  And our rose in her hair

  No one can quite compare.

  When shadows try to hide us

  Dreams will see us through

  Tho' the years come and go,

  She'll be loyal, I know,

  She's the sweetheart of ATO.

  Da Vinci towered above his brothers, handsome and proud, and I wanted to whisk him away from these boys who had taken up all of his time, yet who had welcomed him so openly to America and the mainstream. This wasn't about them, but about me. This wasn't a pledging haze at all, but a sweetheart serenade-something that was only supposed to happen to other girls: cute, young sorority girls, not middle-aged widows. Da Vinci stepped forward and handed me a red rose, kissing me on the lips while his frat brothers cheered him on and chanted, “ATO! ATO! ATO!”

  William hugged my leg while da Vinci placed his fraternity pin over my poodle's rear of my flannel PJs. He kissed me again, while I began to cry-not because I was filled with joy, but because I wondered what planet I was on and how I ever landed here. Making love in the frat house had been one thing-a fantasy come true for a part-time linguist and full-time housewife-but this?

  Da Vinci waved goodbye to his frat brothers as he lifted me into his arms and carried me into the house.

  “Neat, huh?” William said. “Was that, like, the coolest thing in the world or what?”

  “Put me down,” I said, but da Vinci only held me tighter.

  “Boys, back to bed,” da Vinci said to them, and amazingly, they obeyed.

  As they walked down the hall to their room, they high-fived, which was even stranger. “Da Vinci?” I asked as he threw me on the bed he had begun to refer to as “our bed” and began unbuttoning my poodle PJs. “What's going on here?”

  He took off his shirt, revealing Adonis abs, and knelt over me as he trailed my abdomen with his tongue. “What does it look like? I'm going to ravage my American bride-to-be.”

  “Oh, my God.” I grabbed for my pajama top, but he had already pulled off my pajama bottoms and began kissing my hips. “Da Vinci, we're not getting married. Can you stop that? It's very distracting.”

  “I know,” he said, looking up at me. “That's the whole point.”

  “Yes, but about the marriage? You know we aren't ready for that.”

  “We've got time. We're young.”

  “Well, you're young, but that's not the point. Why are you doing this?”

  Da Vinci lay his strong body over mine. “Because you're my Mona Lisa. I've been a terrible boyfriend. Spending so much time away for my studies and my fraternity brothers. And I realized something the other day when another woman kissed me.”

  “What?” I rolled him off of me.

  “It was TLC night of pledge week.”

  My heart began to combust. “What do they do, bring in whores?”

  Da Vinci was nonchalant. No big deal, kissing. “Just college girls. I don't want there to be secrets between us, so I must confess. Three girls kissed me and I kissed them back.”

  “Da Vinci! Was it some kind of orgy?”

  “Orgy?”

  “Group sex! How could you?”

  “Just kissing, tesoro.”

  “Don't call me darling. I'm very angry with you. Mad. Upset. Hurt.”

  He held my hand. “I admit the pleasure of the body can take over, but I realized they were nothing compared to you. So I wanted to do something to show you how much you mean to me. You're the real thing, Mona Lisa.”

  We sat side by side in silence until we lay back, his head on my chest. Pleasure versus the real thing. Could it be possible to have both? I knew without a doubt that da Vinci was not the real thing. He was my romance-novel cover model, my sexual fantasy, my key to liberation from loneliness, but he wasn't even close to the real thing. “Leonardo, I don't think we want the same things.”

  “But I thought this would make you happy.”

  “I don't think you really love me. And it's not like you need citizenship just yet. You have a student visa.”

  Da Vinci raised his voice. “It's not about that. I feel safe with you.”

  “Safe isn't the same thing as love. Love is what you had with Chiara.”

  He rolled over onto his stomach, his brows furrowed. “Don't speak of Chiara. She is gone.”

  “She sent you a letter.” I resisted adding, a love letter.

  “I don't care.”

  �
��You don't want to read it? It sure smells nice.”

  “She broke my heart. When I told her I wanted to come to America and I wanted her to come with me, she refused. She is marrying my cousin.”

  “Why didn't you tell me about her? I would've understood.”

  “I didn't think the past mattered.”

  “You're talking to someone who's been living in the past. But you can't stay there, and you can't pretend it didn't happen, either. You learn from it and cherish it and build on it and try again. You're the one that showed me that it's okay to live again. To love again.”

  “But not love me? I can hope you'll change your mind.”

  “I love you, but not in the way you want me to. You are a magical, wonderful, beautiful man. You've shown me how to let joy in and be happy. I'll never forget what we've had. And I don't want to lose our friendship, either. And neither will the boys. They love you, too.”

  He squeezed my hand. “This is classic American break-up, no? The ‘let's be friends‘ speech?”

  “I'm sorry. I guess it is. I'm not very good at this. I really don't want to hurt you.”

  “But I'll miss you and Scrabble and footballing with Bradley. This is American dream.”

  The American dream. I'd thought you only get one of those, and that mine had died along with Joel. I hadn't thought I'd get a second chance or that I even deserved one, but maybe I did. Maybe I could dream a new dream. “Oh, da Vinci. You've always been a dreamer. Don't lose that, okay?”

  Defeated, he got up from the bed, put his T-shirt back on and left to sleep in the studio, his head hung low.

  As I watched him leave I thought to myself, what kind of a heartless asshole breaks up with her lover on a holiday?

  Chapter 22

  “I CAN'T BELIEVE THIS is happening to me! Me of all people,” my sister cried as she entered the house with Zoe tagging behind her in an orange-and-brown bow that threatened to capsize her head.

  After wiping my hands on my apron, I kissed Zoe and sent her to the boys' room to play. “What's going on? It's not even 10 o'clock yet.”

  Rachel plopped on the kitchen chair, her face streaked with mascara. “How would I know what time it is? I haven't slept yet.”

  I pulled up a seat next to her. She must've found out. “I'm so sorry, Rachel. We can get through this.”

  Rachel blew her nose. “It's not that easy, Ramona. You of all people should know how much it hurts to lose someone that you love.”

  I curled my chest over the table. “Of course. So you're hurt because…”

  “Because he's in love with someone else!”

  “Cortland's in love with someone else?”

  “Cortland? No! I broke up with him yesterday after I dropped by to see the dump he's moving into! It's not even in a good neighborhood.”

  “Rachel, this is my neighborhood. And it is a good neighborhood.”

  “Oh, I know, sweetie. I don't mean anything by it. It's just, we're obviously so wrong for each other, and he must have something wrong with his down there not to want to have sex with me. Who in this day and age waits to be serious to make love?”

  I shook my head, confused. “So who are you talking about, then?”

  “Michael, of course! He dropped off Zoe last night and said he wanted to tell me that he's been seeing someone.”

  “Oh, no.”

  “Oh, yes. And not only that, he's in love with her and is going to propose!” Rachel began wailing again and pounding the table. “How could this be happening to me?”

  Trying to suppress a smile, I rubbed her back, comforting her. “But Rach, honey, I thought you hated Michael. The whole world thinks you hate Michael. Isn't he a big part of your seminar? You call him ‘Dog Man,‘ remember?”

  “I know what I said. But I just wanted to make him suffer and be miserable without me for awhile, and then I'd take him back and incorporate the power of forgiveness into my speech. Zoe needs to be with her father.”

  “Got it. Well, life has a funny way of working out for the best.”

  “You plucked that one straight from Mom's phrase book. It doesn't sound like you talking.”

  “Well, I'm starting to believe it.”

  “Who could possibly want to marry that man?”

  “Besides you, you mean?”

  “She's probably some young tramp legal assistant. Or a bartender. They always go for the young, hot bartenders. Not that they have anything on me.”

  “You mean, he didn't tell you who he was seeing?”

  “I kicked him out. I don't want to know. I'll meet her soon enough, I suppose. Oh, God. Do you think he'll invite me to the wedding?”

  “Have you considered that he might be dating a very nice person? Mature, even?”

  “Please. I'm not an idiot. I'm going to go take two Tylenol and see if I can sleep for a few hours before dinner. Sorry I can't help.”

  I had slumped over and considered calling the whole thing off when the doorbell rang. The Evangamoms had arrived early, as usual, and I didn't even feel guilty that the house was still a mess. My mothers would go into turbo-drive and have the whole place in tip-top shape before the dinner bell clanged.

  “Aren't you a sight for sore eyes,” my mother said as she gave me the up-down, pleased at my selection of a warm gold dress. My father kissed me hello and handed me a bouquet of fall flowers for the table. Judith air-kissed me and breathed, “Oh, my,” upon seeing the scattered toys and general clutter in the house. The boys had cleaned up without my even asking, another sign that something strange was going on, but I had to give my mothers something to do, so I tossed a few balls and robots and action figures around the place for good measure.

  “Barb, it's time to roll up our sleeves.”

  “When isn't it, dear?”

  “What would she ever do without us?”

  And I'd actually wondered that myself, but my mothers needed to be needed, so I couldn't get well too quickly.

  Two hours later, the house was clean, the table set, and the food ready to be gobbled up, minus a couple of key figures. After a half-hour of trying, my mother coaxed Rachel out of my bed, into the shower, and down to the table, hair wet and sans makeup. A very pregnant Zoya arrived wearing a sexy, red fitted dress with a plunging neckline that revealed most of her swollen bosom, and Donald couldn't keep his eyes off of it. It took all of my dad's strength not to stare, too.

  I asked William to fetch da Vinci for dinner, but he returned with a red face wet with tears, fogging up his glasses. The rest of us were already seated at the table, including Joel's framed photo on his plate in his usual seat-Judith's idea. We did it every Thanksgiving, Christmas and Easter. I'm not sure what Joel thought of his symbolic inclusion, but I could feel his energy making a sarcastic remark about it.

  “What in Heavens?” my mother said, scooting her chair back.

  “Thanksgiving isn't an Italian holiday,” Judith said, as if that explained everything.

  William glared at me. “It's all your fault!” He pointed an accusing finger. “Da Vinci's not coming to dinner because of you!”

  “This is juicy,” Rachel said, taking a gulp of her wine. “Do tell.”

  Williams' tiny shoulders shook. “All we wanted was for you to be happy again, and you had to go and ruin it! Tell him you're sorry!”

  I hugged my son, but he wriggled away. “Honey, I'm sorry. It's a grown-up thing.”

  “Tell me what we can do to make you love da Vinci.” He looked at his older brother, who was slumped in his seat. “It didn't work, Bradley.”

  “What do you mean, sweetie? Bradley, what's he talking about?”

  Bradley mumbled. “It was William's idea. To get da Vinci to fall in love with you.”

  The dinner guests moaned an “awww,” and I could feel my hair stand on end.

  “ What? ” I looked at both boys and saw the shame on their faces. “Tell me exactly what you did.”

  William continued to cry. “I told da Vinci that you liked h
im and that he should take you to the vineyard. And then I told him he should tell you he loved you, and I moved his things into Daddy's closet.”

  “You what?” Judith asked.

  “You what? ” I asked, gripping his little arm. “Why would you do all that?”

  “We could tell that when he was around, you weren't so sad anymore, so we thought if you fell in love and married him that we could have a whole family again.”

  “Honey, da Vinci and I do care for each other. I still like him, but we're not going to get married.”

  “But you're pinned now!” He stomped his foot.

  “You're what? ” Rachel asked. “As in, fraternity pin?”

  “That's absurd,” Judith said, with a laugh.

  I shot them all a warning glance to stay out of it. “So the pin was your idea, too?”

  Bradley pointed to his brother, and William bobbed his head. “I thought you would think it was romantic. A pin is a promise.”

  Judith and Barbara had tears in their eyes. “Come here, you.” I opened my arms, and William walked into them. “And you, too, bud,” I said to Bradley, and he joined us. I was too amazed at their compassion to be mad at them. “Even though da Vinci won't be around here as much anymore, he still wants to be your friends, okay?”

  “But will you still be happy?” William asked.

  “Yes, baby. Mommy is getting happier by the day. Don't I look happy?” I flashed him a big and surprisingly genuine smile. The world was a big, messed-up place, but I was happy. My joy jar was filling up with each passing hour.

  William's tiny shoulders lifted. “I guess so. But I can see Oprah's point about the makeup.”

  My moms laughed. “Well, she is one smart cookie.”

  Judith took another sip of wine. “I propose a toast, then. To makeup and joy, however we find it,” she said.

  “I'll toast to the joy part,” my father said.

  Rachel reluctantly joined in. We toasted and I drank the wine, relishing the plum aftertaste, remembering that da Vinci had picked out the bottle at the vineyard, saying we should drink it on a special occasion. I had so much to be thankful for, including the awakening brought on by his arrival into my classroom and my life.