Letters To Luca

by M. R. Joseph

  Just the thought of that make me cringe.

  “Been there, done that, and I don’t plan on revisiting that either. She can try all she wants.”

  “I know you’re not interested, but when’s the last time you went out on a date with someone? Or gotten laid for that matter?”

  “Last date? Two years ago. Laid? None of your business.”

  He shakes his finger at me. “Ah, I see. None of my business because it’s been forever. Maybe that’s why you are so cranky.”

  Just then we hear the front door bang into the wall and it startles us.

  “Luca, che cosa ai la porta?”

  My larger than life father walks in and comes towards the bar. Papa is all of five foot and about two hundred pounds. He wobbles when he approaches me and I meet him halfway and kiss both his cheeks. He pats my cheek and smiles at me.

  “Nothing, Papa. The hinges on the door are broke. I’m going to get it fixed. I may even replace it. I’m going to call someone to come out and look at it.”

  My dad takes a seat at the bar and James grabs him a glass of wine.

  “Ah, grazie, Giacomo. You are also a good boy like my Luca.”

  “Figurati, Lucky.”

  James’ Italian is getting a little better. It should since he has worked here for the past four years and practically grew up around my house.

  My mom passed away when I was fifteen. I had a rough go of it, so James started spending time at my house because I was sort of anti-social. All I would do for six months after her death was go to school, baseball practice, then home. He must have eaten dinner at my house four nights out of the week during high school. His parents didn’t mind since they were friendly with my parents and Papa told them what a rough time I was having.

  I paid it forward by giving him the bar manager’s position here and he rents one of the condos in the quad that I own on 57th street. I bought it a few years back as an investment. I live in one, James lives in one, Adrianna and a friend of hers from school rent one, and, at the moment, there is one available for rent. It’s a stone’s throw from the beach. 57th Street is quiet. Most of the homes on the street are quads. Some owners live here all year around like me; other owners use theirs for summer rentals.

  I fixed the units up with the help of a local contractor, Wes Parks. We both went to Oceansands High, but he is a few years older than me. I heard his name around the restaurant and someone pointed him out to me one night. He worked on the units for about three months and did some beautiful work. We became friends and hang out sometimes.

  I turn back to my dad. “Papa, what brings you in tonight? It’s a Friday. Shouldn’t you be playing cards with the guys?”

  “Si, mio ragazzo. I just wanted to stop in and see my boy. You didn’t come to dinner the other night. I’m not used to not seeing your face for a couple of days.”

  “Sorry, Papa. I had to get the books done for the end of the month. I’ll come Sunday.”

  “Promessa?”

  “Si, Papa. I promise.” He moves his short stubby body off the stool, and makes his way over to me again. He kisses my cheek and does his signature face pat.

  “You, my bello boy need the love of a good woman. Giacomo, look at this face. He needs a woman, one who cooks like your mama and your Nonna did. Please, Luca. I want grandkids before I die.”

  James laughs and so do I. My dad is so sweet, and I want those things as well. I just can’t seem to find the right girl. Actually, I found her; I just don’t know who she is.

  “Va, bene, Papa. I’ll find one soon. I have to go make sure everything is okay in the kitchen. I’ll see you Sunday for dinner.”

  Papa leaves and I make sure James and the other bartenders are okay, as another Friday night at Lucky’s begins. I make my way to the kitchen and check on things like the chef’s specials, and that the staff is present and accounted for.

  I head to my office and think about the things my father said he wanted for me. The love of a good woman.

  My mother and father had a wonderful marriage. They were so in love even up until the breast cancer took her from him - from us. His heart broke when she died, but he focused on his children, her legacies. Fab was only a little guy and he doesn’t remember her that much, but Papa makes sure he tells him stories of their life together and what a wonderful wife and mother she was. I sit down in my chair and my thoughts go to my letter girl. The one whose words talk about the kind of love that is out there for everyone. I can still remember the first letter I received from her. Senior year of high school, after third period. It was a Tuesday.

  I walked down the school hallway after Calculus with James. We stopped at our lockers before lunch. When I opened mine, there was a small, white envelope with my name written on it in calligraphy handwriting. I looked to my left, then to my right. James was talking with a girl and didn’t notice me take the envelope out. I unsealed it and opened the note card.

  I place it in the envelope and look around again for my friends to be behind me laughing. No one is there. No one is laughing or jumping out to say, “April Fools”. This has to be a joke. Who would want to fuck with me? For now, I’ll keep this to myself. A few days will go by and my jerky friends will probably start reciting shit from it. I tuck it into the back pocket of my jeans and close my locker. I set out to the cafeteria. That’s where those idiots will probably look at me and start laughing and pointing at me. If that’s the case, so be it. I can take a joke.

  Nothing happens during lunch. The guys are the same. No one gives me a reason to be suspicious. The rest of the day goes by at a snail’s pace, but my mind is racing at the thought of who would write something like that to me. I run through a list of old girlfriends that I knew were rumored to still like me but I don’t think any were literate enough to be quoting Hamlet and shit.

  When I go home and make my way to my room to do my homework. I sit on my bed and take out the note card again, and I read it again and again. Do girls really talk like this? Not the ones I hang out with. They are way too busy discussing their freaking nails and comparing shoes and shit like that. I lay my body down and my heads falls on my pillow. Again, I read the words. They were meant for me. It’s clearly written there. The question again plagues me? Why? I put the envelope in a pocket of my back pack. I’m not sure why I want to carry it around. I’m sure this is a joke. I laugh out loud to myself. Someone is definitely fucking with me. This will probably be the first and only one, I’ll make sure of that. I can’t wait to find out who did it. Karma is a bitch for the person who played this joke on me. Unless…it’s not a joke?

  I really don’t think I have enough salt in my body anymore to produce more tears. My head hurts. It’s the side effect from crying uncontrollably for the last two hours, it also could be the direct result of the half a bottle of Tequila I just consumed. Someone’s at the door. It must be Kenzie. No way it would be him. That would take some major balls.

  When I get up off the sofa, a sea of white, used tissues falls to the floor. It looks like it fucking snowed in here, there are so many of them. I scurry to the door in my fluffy, pink robe and Hello Kitty slippers. My hair is in a haphazard bun on top of my head. I open the door and it’s Kenzie.

  “What in the fucking hell happened? I could hardly understand you when you called. All I got out of it was Michael, wife, pregnant. You better explain Leighton. I’m freaking out.”

  Just hearing the words she said sent me into another crying frenzy.

  “I…walked…in…on…him and his wife in the office… and… she’s…she’s almost seven months preg…. preg…” I couldn’t even finish my sentence. After every word I sniff back snots from my nose. So Kenzie does it for me.

  “She’s pregnant. I got that from your incoherent phone call.”

  All I can get out was a nod and a sob. Kenzie engulfs me in a hug and I sob on her shoulder for what feels like forever. She leads me over to the couch and we sit as she takes my hand away from the bottle of Tequila.


  “You don’t need this, Leighton. Tell me what happened, and please for the love of God blow your nose before you snot all over my shirt.”

  I blow it and begin telling her the events that took place a few hours prior.

  “I am supposed to leave for D.C. tomorrow, but I wanted to see Michael before I left. We decided to meet in his office after everyone left for the day, and we all know what happens with me and Michael in his office at the end of a work day.”

  Kenzie shakes her head and give me an eye roll. She is disapproving of me and Michael. She always thought I should have stayed away from him until his divorce was final. She doesn’t understand that I needed him. I crave the attention from him, the affection from him, the sex from him. For the first time in a long time, I feel fulfilled when I’m with him.

  “When I got to the doorway of his office, I saw a woman whose back was to me and Michael was, he, he…. was making out with her.” The sobs come back in full force. “I stood there frozen and I guess Michael sensed someone was there. He opened his eyes and saw me. He didn’t pull away from her quickly; he sort of kept his eyes on me and continued to kiss her for a few more seconds.” I blow my nose again.

  “That bastard!” Kenzie yells. “Go on, I’m sorry.”

  “Well, then I cleared my throat and she turned around and all I focused on was her big, swollen, belly. She had a smile on her face, and all the bastard said was, ‘Hello, Leighton. What can I do for you?”

  “Did you want to punch him right in the balls or what?” Kenzie makes a fist and pretends to do it.

  “I didn’t know what to do. I was speechless. Michael introduced me to her. He said, ‘Leighton, this is my wife, Sloan’. She walked over and extended her hand to me and told me it was a pleasure. She didn’t have a clue as to why I was speechless. The shock had to be written all over my face. She was gracious and beautiful, and I was the fucking whore her husband was sleeping with.”

  Kenzie picks up the bottle of Tequila and pours a shot, not for me, but for herself. She slams it back.

  “Fuck a duck. That slimy no good, two timing, son of a…” She starts to get loud and I can see the veins bulging from her neck.

  “All I could do was ask her when she was due. She told me she is almost seven months along and… and…” I sniff back more snot.

  “Come on, Leighton, you can do it. And what?”

  “She told me that they were expecting a boy and they were going to name him Jack.”

  Kenzie looks at me confused. “So what?”

  “So what? Kenz that is what I told him I wanted to name our baby if we had one together. Then he told me he wasn’t sure if he wanted kids. Low sperm count or some shit like that.”

  Kenzie pours another shot and hands it to me. “You need this more than me, girlfriend, drink up.”

  I throw back the shot and it burns my throat. I could care less if it numbs me. Although, I was already numb. Kenzie gets up from the sofa and begins pacing in front of me.

  “So now it all makes sense. He can never stay over, except for sometimes on the weekends. You have never been to the friend’s house he supposedly lives at until the divorce was final. He didn’t want to go public with your relationship. He has never taken you out on a date, and he probably told the wife that he was going on business trips and that’s when he would stay here with you. He’s smooth, Leighton, real smooth.”

  “I don’t know what I’m going to do, Kenz.”

  Kenzie makes her way back to the sofa and grabs my hands and hold them.

  “Leighton, let me ask you something? Has Michael ever said he loved you?”

  I shake my head no.

  “Did he ever tell you how beautiful you were, inside and out? What a good person you are?”

  Again, another shake no.

  “Does he tell you that you are his world and no one else matters to him but you? These are things that you need to ask yourself, Leighton. The answers to those questions will give you your, ‘what am I going to do’.”

  I have to answer no to every one of them. Michael never told me I was beautiful. He never told me how much I meant to him. It was all…physical. He told me I was hot, and powerful, and that I was the best fuck he ever had.

  “Kenz?”

  “Yes, doll?”

  “Did I mistake what I thought was mind blowing sex for love?”

  She smiles gently at me. “Yea, I think you did. I’m so sorry, Leighton.”

  We suddenly hear a knock at the door. We both turn around and stare at it, then look back at each other.

  “Don’t even tell me - unless you ordered Chinese food.”

  “I didn’t order a thing.” I get up from the sofa and go to the peep hole at the door. It’s Michael. He is pacing and looks pale as a ghost. I yell through the door.

  “What do you want, Michael? I have nothing to say to you.”

  “Come on, baby, let me explain.”

  “Why should I give you that chance? You have a pregnant wife that you obviously love. I was just your fuck buddy, Michael. You had no intention on being with me. You are a liar and a cheater and I feel sorry for that beautiful wife and your soon to be spawn.”

  Kenzie’s behind me silently cheering and throwing punches to the air like she is a boxer.

  “You know what, Michael, you never wanted anything more than the two of us in bed. You never told me I mattered. You never told me I was beautiful, or a good person. It was nothing to you, I was nothing to you, and I refuse to be anyone’s second choice.”

  I wait a few minutes to see if he will speak.

  “Leighton, what we had was fun, but I had no intention of leaving her. She was pregnant already when we got together and you were so, fucking hot and I couldn’t keep my hands off of you. You know how good it was baby. How I made you come over and over. How my dick felt inside you. It was magic, baby. We made fuck magic.”

  Kenzie mouths ‘fuck magic’ to me and puts her hand over her mouth to stifle a laugh. I shoo her away.

  “Leighton, we can have the best of both worlds. I plan on spending more time out of the house when the kid is born anyway. I didn’t even want kids. She tricked me, Leighton. You have to believe me. Come on baby, open up. Open up the door and your legs, and I can make you feel a lot better.”

  I turn to Kenzie and she shakes her head back and forth mouthing me ‘no’. I unlock it, and he is standing there all breathless and gorgeous. He flashes his trademark sideways grin, and moves closer to me.

  “That’s a good girl, my bad girl. Oh, baby, you look like hell. You better go clean yourself up first before I make you scream.”

  I move into him closer closing the gap between us and offering a weak smile of surrender. My heart pounds in my chest and my face feels tight from the salt water of my tears. I manage to breathe hot air into his ear and place my arms on his strong, broad shoulders. I shut my eyes tight, and with all the strength I have left even after the horrific evening, I knee him hard, straight in the nuts and say, “And that’s for stealing the name of my unborn son, you no good piece of shit.”

  Michael doubles over and air rushes from his lungs. He starts to cough and gag at the same time. While he is doubled over, I gave him a slight shove out the door, then I slam it so hard, it catches his nose and I hear a pop. Michael yells, “Oh fuck, you broke my nose, you bitch.”

  Kenzie jumps up and down behind me.

  “Leighton, that was too awesome for words! I’m so proud of you.”

  I am proud of myself. Not proud that I was sleeping with someone else’s husband. My relationship with Michael, or whatever you wanted to categorize it as, was over.

  I decide I am giving up on love, not that I even know what love is apparently. It never causes anything but pain. Sex caused nothing but pain, even after the pleasure of it. I am done. I am broken. I don’t know the difference between love and sex. I’m naive and stupid and I will never, ever trust love again. I can’t even trust my own feelings.

  I need to get ou
t of here. I know Kenzie is here but I need my family. I need my childhood friends, I need home.

  Kenzie stays with me for a few more hours and I tell her my plan. She doesn’t agree, but she understands. I call Katherine at her home and tell her I need to take an extended leave of absence effective immediately. She is quite concerned and asks why. I tell her there are family issues and I desperately need to go home for a while. She asks how long, and I tell her three months or longer. She isn’t thrilled but she knows how important my family is to me. I hate lying to her but I just can’t face Michael every day. We work closely with one another. For my sanity, I have to do this. I tell her I will finish up my open assignments via e-mail, and that I can do a little work from home if they are in a real pinch. My assistant, Jessica, is excellent and she knew my job almost as well as I did.

  I ask Katherine to reschedule D.C. for later in the summer, once the next installment in the series is released, which will be sometime in July. I tell her to tell them I have serious family obligations I need to take care of first. I’m not worried about money. I will sublet my apartment for the next couple of months and maybe stay with Wes or one of the girls back in Ocean City. Maybe I will even rent a place on the beach for the summer and clear my head.

  The next day I go to the office to pack my things. Everyone asks where I am going and why. I tell them there was a family issue and that I would eventually be back. I hug the people whom I am close to in the office goodbye, and make my way to Katherine’s office. She engulfs me in a big hug.

  “I am sure going to miss you, kiddo. Please call me and I will be in touch about the other things.”

  She winks at me and I know she is referring to my books. As I pick up my box of personal stuff from my desk, Katherine says, “Hey, did you see Michael’s nose? He has two black eyes and his nose is all bandaged up. He’s also walking a little funny today. Someone must of did a number on him, whoever she was. I’m sure he got what he deserved.” She winks at me and turns back into her office and shuts the door.