Ten Years Later

by Lisa Marie Latino

  “Me too. I’m just so nervous,” I frown.

  He holds me securely. “Oh, baby, what do you have to be nervous about?”

  I hang my head in shame. “It’s been so long, I don’t know if I remember how to—”

  “Oh, you will. You are so beautiful. I’ll see to it that we make up for your lost time.” He lowers the straps of my black dress, and slowly unzips my top. He never breaks eye contact as he continues to disrobe me. “Lie back,” he orders lustily, caressing my neck with kisses.

  I close my eyes, eager for what is coming next. I feel his fingers slip under my thong underwear, and he slowly pulls it down.

  “Carla!” A female voice shouts.

  I try to drown her out and focus on Miguel’s movements, but he stops. He, along with everything in the living room, starts to fade to black.

  “Carla!” The female voice repeats. It sounds so, so familiar.

  “Not now Mom!” I shout. I try to will Miguel back into the picture, but he had already disappeared.

  “It’s Christmas morning, get up now!”

  “What?” I fluttered my eyes open and saw my mother looming large above the bed.

  “It’s Christmas morning; it’s time to open presents! Usually, you are the first one to wake everybody up.”

  “Oh yeah, uh, Merry Christmas,” I grumbled, rubbing the sleep from my eyes. How did she get in here, anyway? I always kept my door locked to thwart off unwanted visitors, Nancy D’Agostino being number one on that dubious list.

  Mom raised an eyebrow. “That was some dream you must have been having. You had a huge smile on your face and were hugging yourself. What was it about?”

  I racked my brain. The last thing I remembered was… oh shit! I was hemming and hawing to Miguel about having sex (my insecurities are omnipresent, even in a parallel universe), and then, just when I was about to give in, my mother interrupting us.

  I threw my comforter off, annoyed. Even in my subconscious she had to be a buzz kill.

  “I was actually hugging you, Mom!” I laughed (and lied), throwing my arms around her. “I dreamt that you and Dad surprised me with a new car, with a big red bow wrapped around it. You know, like in those Lexus car commercials.”

  “I hate those commercials,” she retorted, throwing me off of her. “We are running behind schedule, we have a lot of family to visit. Hurry up and get downstairs.” She shot up from my bed and fluttered out of the room. Once the door shut behind her, I lunged towards the charging iPhone on my nightstand.

  Call me weird, but I always leave my unattended phone face down on its screen. I revel in those couple of extra seconds of anticipation of what is awaiting me on the other side—a new job opportunity? Mark calling with a long-overdue apology? Or, in the case of these last 36 torturous days, a missed call, voice mail, text message or e-mail from #38 on the New York Yankees? But unfortunately, there were no Christmas miracles jumping out to greet me, just a few “Happy Holidays!” junk e-mails.

  I sighed, tossing the phone on my mattress, and followed in its path, frowning at the ceiling. Why was I still holding on to the hope that Miguel was going to call after he unceremoniously kicked me out of his place? Besides, his “divorce” never hit the papers. After spending the night with me, he probably realized that the single life was for the birds and ran back home to his hot wife. It wouldn’t be the first time another girl won out.

  I winced as I thought about the scene unfolding at Casa Martinez right at this very moment… Husband, wife, and kids are wearing matching red plaid pajamas and are sitting in a sea of endless presents under a massive Christmas tree. A fire is crackling in the stone fireplace. Trisha Martinez cradles baby Marco as she adoringly watches her two older children gleefully rip through the wrapping paper. Miguel tenderly puts a hand on his wife’s shoulder and whispers, “How lucky are we to have such a beautiful family? I love you.”

  “I love you too,” Trisha smiles, feeling like the luckiest woman on the face of the earth.

  They steal a kiss as the snow begins to fall lightly outside the window, completing the picture-perfect scene.

  I glanced out the window and saw that it wasn’t snowing. I think it was actually supposed to be in the 40s, which was warm for this time of year. But at the Martinez penthouse, a mere 20 miles away, it would be snowing; Mother Nature wouldn’t want it any other way.

  “CAR-LAAAAAAAAAAAA! WHAT ARE YOU DOING? COME DOWNSTAIRS!” Mom screamed, interrupting my runaway train of thoughts.

  A part of me wanted to blow off my family and go back to sleep; it was not like anything from my grown up Christmas list would be under the tree. (I was not exactly sure what type of box you would use to package a man or a dream job.) But I was too tired to fight.

  “Coming!”

  ■ ■ ■

  Eight hours and 500 pounds of food later, I retreated back to my room. I escaped the day pretty unscathed; Mom was good and didn’t say anything to make me feel bad about myself, and in general, the family got along. Christmas was, overall, a success.

  I lay in bed and placed my laptop on my lap. I logged onto Facebook, and seconds later my eyes were assaulted with an onslaught of “had the best Christmas ever with my hubby!” and “Santa treated my kids very well this year!” -type status updates. Disgusted, I was about to sign off, but a chat notification stopped me.

  Kevin Russo: Merry Christmas, Carla! How are you?

  Kevin Russo was an acquaintance from college; we had a bunch of classes together in our communications major and always got along well. After graduation, he got a producing job at NYS, the region’s number one sports cable station, and we would randomly bump into each other at various games and events.

  In other words, why would a minor character from my past reach out to me on Christmas?

  Carla D’Agostino: Merry Christmas to you too! How is everything going?

  Kevin Russo: I’ve been better, but I’m ok. I have a really random question for you.

  Carla D’Agostino: Sure.

  Kevin Russo: Well, I broke up with my girlfriend a couple of days ago. What timing, right? Anyway, I have tickets to this really cool event on New Year’s Eve in the city. If you don’t have plans, would you want to go?

  There were various days on the calendar that were a single person’s worst nightmare (the manufactured garbage of February 14th being the number one obvious) but personally, it was a certain day in December that slayed me…and believe it or not, it wasn’t Christmas.

  Don’t get me wrong, the holiday season was almost disgustingly too romantic—the lights, the fresh snow, comfortable sweaters, cuddling by the fireplace, cutting down the tree…even the endless parade of parties and the insanity at the malls carried a certain romanticism. You got hit with pangs of loneliness at various times, but the distraction of all the commotion dulled the pain. However, after the pomp and circumstance were over, and all of the presents had been put away (or in my case, returned; why didn’t anybody listen when I said I just wanted gift cards so I could buy my own stuff?!), we singles have one of the most daunting of obstacles to overcome…

  New Year’s Eve.

  Isn’t it such an overblown, amateur, DUMB holiday? Every establishment charges an obscene amount of money for crap food and entertainment, and you are forced to celebrate with untrained animals who haven’t been out since last December 31st. But if you don’t go out, you feel like a loser because “everyone goes out for New Year’s Eve.” Never mind gifts; all I wanted from Santa was the flu, so I’d have a built-in excuse to stay home.

  Of course, I’d gladly spend New Year’s Eve standing naked on a bed of hot coals in the fiery depths of hell if it meant bypassing the sheer agony of those dreaded twenty seconds that no person should ever have to endure…having no one to kiss for “The New Year’s Kiss.” For those lucky enough to have never experienced this phenomenon in their adult life, here is a first-hand account of how “The New Year’s Kiss” looks from the sidelines:

  “…Ten…Nin
e…Eight…!”

  I watch all the couples in the room clutch each other, joyfully chanting the countdown. I rub my temples to fight the oncoming stress headache.

  “…Seven…Six...Five…!”

  I gulp as they pucker their lips in great anticipation.

  “…Four…Three...Two…!”

  I hold my breath and close my eyes.

  “…One! Happy New Year!”

  My stomach drops as I feel everyone in the room (and in the Eastern Time Zone) embrace. I frantically start counting down to another ten seconds, since that’s when the kisses would be over.

  10987654321!

  Breathing out a huge sigh of relief, I fling open my eyes. The ostentatious public displays of affection should mercifully be over…nope, wait a minute, there’s a couple slobbering all over each other in the back corner, and there’s another twosome humping against the bar. Come on people, it’s 12:01, enough is enough!

  I feel something tickle my face.

  “Hap-py New Yearssss!” Katie slurs, drunkenly taunting me with a silver party blower.

  That had been my New Year’s Eve “celebration” for the past two years, and just when I thought it couldn’t get worse, I get this out-of-the-blue invite from some dopey kid I went to college with. I was probably his last resort after he scoured his friends list and realized I was the last single girl on the planet.

  I decided that, no matter what the event was, I would tell him no. I’d be perfectly happy ringing in the new year at home in my pajamas over a quart of wonton soup, far away from the crowds. Who knew, maybe this approach would work; instead of building up another year to be the “best one yet” I’d go into this one quietly and maybe see my vast expectations actually get realized.

  Carla D’Agostino: I’m sorry to hear that. Thanks for thinking of me, although I’m still trying to figure out what I’m doing…

  Kevin Russo: I figured as such, no pressure. It’s just that I remember how much you loved Miguel Martinez back in college and the event is his annual charity New Year’s ball.

  Have I mentioned how much I love New Year’s Eve?

  Carla D’Agostino: How did you score those tickets?!

  Kevin Russo: I have friends in high places, haha. The station has a table, and my boss asked me to go.

  I had the grin of a Cheshire Cat as I merrily typed my final answer.

  Carla D’Agostino: Well I don’t want to make you look bad in front of your boss, lol…what time are we meeting?

  ■ ■ ■

  “Why don’t you ever take risks with your fashion?” Andrea huffed, rolling her eyes.

  “I’m not wearing some weird fuchsia feather dress on New Year’s Eve…or ever!” I shot back.

  It was the next day, and before we did our annual Jade Meadow day-after-Christmas gift exchange with (what was left of) the crew, I had Andrea come with me to the mall. We were arguing in the middle of the busy Satriano dressing room as her five-week-old twins lay quietly in their double stroller. I was between two mini dresses—a black slit sleeve and a red one-shoulder with rhinestone accents. Meanwhile, Andrea was trying to convince me to try on samples from Lady Gaga’s closet.

  “Why did you invite me to help you shop if you aren’t going to take any of my suggestions anyway? You are so difficult!” Andrea whined.

  I ignored her as I went into the dressing room to try the dresses on for the third time. Both frocks were hot, and each would make it impossible for Miguel not to notice me. What’s a girl to do?

  When I emerged from behind the curtain, Andrea was reading a magazine while absentmindedly pushing the double-seated stroller back and forth.

  “I don’t know which to get,” I pouted.

  “Whatever,” Andrea muttered. “Hey, did you know that in a baby’s first year, its brain will double to become half its final size?” She looked up from the magazine, her face full of worry. “That’s huge, isn’t it? Are my babies going to have giant alien heads?”

  I sighed. “No Andrea, your babies will be fine.”

  “Listen to this one,” she continued. “The heaviest baby was born in Italy in 1995. He weighed 22 pounds, eight ounces. Can you imagine trying to push that thing out of you?”

  “ANDREA! I don’t have time for Jeopardy: Baby Edition. Pick a dress!”

  She snapped to attention. “Well, you always wear black, so “be bold” and go with red,” Andrea mocked.

  “Kids, do you agree?” Nico was staring into space and couldn’t care less, but Nadia actually looked in my direction and pointed towards the red dress. Andrea and I broke out into matching smiles. What a cool moment!

  “Yayyyy!” I cheered, clapping the dresses together.

  “She has Mommy’s taste!” Andrea proudly boasted.

  ■ ■ ■

  After I had blown all of my Christmas money on the $250 dress, matching accessories and sexy nude platform stilettos, we made our way to Downtown, where Katie was waiting for us.

  “Merry Christmas!” Katie exclaimed, jumping out of her chair to hug us. After we had exchanged hellos, we settled into our seats—Andrea and Katie facing the door, me sitting opposite, and using the fourth chair to hold our purses and gifts.

  I watched Andrea and Katie study their menus. When was the last time we were all together? It felt like ages. Between Andrea’s kids, Katie’s shop and my, um, life, it had been difficult to get our schedules in sync for even our monthly brunches. I’m sure my rift with Dante didn’t help our cause.

  I shifted my gaze to study the festive seating area of Downtown. The rolling wood ceilings were draped with green garland and twinkling white lights. Each tabletop was decorated by a crafty, stemless wine glass centerpiece filled with fake snow and shiny ball ornaments, topped with a flickering tea light. The candles and the glow from above provided the only source of light in the dim restaurant.

  Suddenly, a familiar wave of regret washed over me; I had not taken a single second to enjoy the season this year, for I was too wrapped up in my own malaise to even notice, or care. I hadn’t helped Dad and Jimmy do any of the Christmas lights outside, a tradition of ours since childhood. To bypass the hysteria and synthetic cheer from the shops, I’d done all of my shopping online. I normally loved making batches of holiday cookies (to the chagrin of my mother, who despised a dirty kitchen only more than she hated sugary treats tempting her diet) or driving around town to look at all the decked-out houses while blasting Mariah Carey’s “All I Want for Christmas is You”. Come to think of it, I hadn’t dusted off the *NSYNC “Home for Christmas” album, or even flipped on the radio to the 24/7 holiday music station. I was never going to get Christmas 2016 back, and that was sad.

  Maybe that was my problem…I focused more on the things I didn’t have than on what I did have, I thought as Andrea picked up an antsy Nico and lightly patted him on the back.

  Look at yesterday morning; I had been so depressed about Miguel that I contemplated not going downstairs to my beautifully heated family room to open an embarrassment of presents with my mother, father, brother and soon-to-be sister-in-law. Meanwhile, the majority of the world was battling war, poverty, sickness, and death. I was one of the lucky ones!

  The image of Tony Soprano popped into my head when he said to Dr. Melfi on The Sopranos: “You know my feelings: every day is a gift. It’s just, does it have to be a pair of socks?”

  I snickered. It was always one step forward, two steps back in this wacky head of mine.

  “So what’s new, guys?” I quipped, glancing over the menu. “I feel like it’s been forever.”

  “I’m just happy the holidays are over,” Katie sighed, rubbing her emerald eyes. “I’m so thankful that the shop has taken off so quickly, but it’s been a lot of work, more than I anticipated.”

  “So are kids,” Andrea huffed, still cradling Nico. “Thank God for my mother, or else I don’t know how I could have handled all of this.”

  “Anything new with the divorce?”

  “Not with th
e divorce, but I was waiting for the three of us to be together to tell you…” Andrea trailed off. “Xander and I are officially dating!”

  “You are?” Katie and I squealed.

  “The family court system is so screwed up, it could take over a year to get this done,” Andrea sighed. “I could only hold out for so long! Besides, he’s the BEST I’ve ever had; he’s definitely worth living in sin for.”

  “Okay then, moving on,” Katie laughed. “How about you, Carla, did you hear from Miguel?”

  “No…but I will be seeing him on New Year’s Eve,” I happily replied.

  “How does that work?”

  “I got invited to his charity New Year’s party by a friend of mine in the business. He broke up with his girlfriend, and he needed a date.”

  Katie’s eyes widened. “Well forget about Miguel; who is this friend?” I was amused by her astonishment; she knew how much I hated dating and would only make time for someone I really, REALLY liked.

  “It’s not like that. He needs a favor, and I need answers. It was a win-win.”

  After the waitress had come by to take our drink orders, Katie broke out in a huge grin. “Guys, I have something to tell you. My life hasn’t exactly been all work, no play lately…”

  “Oh, I like the sound of that. Do tell!” Andrea exclaimed, placing a now-sleeping Nico back in the stroller.

  “I have a boyfriend!” Katie shrieked.

  I opened my mouth to speak, but I had no words. Katie had a boyfriend?!

  “We met two months ago,” she continued. “He was a regular customer of Kettle Black, but since I was always working in the back, we never met. Now that I’m out front, we started talking and…”

  “You’ve had a boyfriend for two months and didn’t tell us?” Andrea scoffed.

  “No, he hasn’t been my boyfriend for two months,” Katie quickly answered. “He became my boyfriend on Christmas… yesterday! He gave me a custom-made Christmas ornament and had “Katie and Teddy, 12-25-16” engraved. That’s how he asked me!”