by Leslie Pike
I look at my suitcases standing watch against the wall, highlighted by the moonlight through the window. They’re ready to go, to get back to Vegas and the closet they live inside. Quit looking at me.
What if I did stay? No job, little money, dismal prospects. But what do I really have in Las Vegas? No job, little money, dismal prospects. And more important than all the reasons I can list, no family life.
Man. I got sucked into Santini world. I’d forgotten what it feels like to be around them. And not for just a weekend or a wedding. But really with them. It’s good. They’re great. I’m an asshole for thinking of missing the whole thing.
But the one thing I can’t figure is what the hell would I do for a living? I do not want to work in a deli. I had enough of that as a kid to know I’m not cut out for the job. I wouldn’t want to teach dance to middle aged couples who want to be ready for their daughter’s wedding. Where would I find my place? In the real world I’m still young. In the dance world I’m a young old man.
And then there’s my injury. The doctor said there’s no guarantees about my level of recovery. I may never be able to lift, and sway, and move the way being a professional dancer must. It’s anyone’s guess. So why be constantly reminded of my inadequacies by being in a town of dancers?
There’s no running from the truth either. I lean toward my weaker nature when it comes to drugs and alcohol. By pointing out to me that it’s nothing to be proud of, Jenny shined a light. It took something away from the experience. I think it’s the ability to shove what I’m doing under the rug and just party. It kinda sounds pathetic now. She’s made me a better man, or at least a man who wants to be better.
Maybe in the morning I’ll go talk to her. Find her house and go have a conversation. Yeah, that’s what I’ll do…
My plan didn’t lose any power when I woke up an hour ago. The shower cleared any cobwebs and I’m ready to plead my case. I can leave for Vegas today, wrap things up in a few weeks and get back to St. Helena. Didn’t say anything to my parents yet. It would have been a shit show of happiness, but I’m not going to get ahead of myself.
I feel a lightness around me. Guess that’s what a good decision feels like. All the doubts and questions I have will work out one way or another. I’ve always been adventurous, fly by the seat of my pants guy. Who knew my greatest adventure would be coming back to where I started?
“I’ll be back for my things. I’ve got to take care of something first.”
The words are directed at my mother and father, who sit at the breakfast table. But I don’t look at them. Can’t risk a lengthy conversation where they ask if I’m alright and why I’m leaving.
Out of my peripheral vision I see my father put a finger to his lips, silencing my mother.
I’m outta here.
I got her address from my mother’s address book. You don’t see those too often anymore. But hallelujah, old school wins the day. One more turn and I’m there. Nice street. These old houses are kinda cool, with their porches and big front yards. Let’s see. Twelve twenty. Okay, it’s the other side of the street.
Up ahead a few houses I see a man standing at the door. He’s running a hand through his hair and carrying a bouquet of flowers. Nice morning greeting for someone. Wish I had thought of it.
Her house has got to be close. Wait. Is it the one the man is standing at? Shit. Fuck. I pull the car to the curb and turn off the engine. I’m across the street and down a few houses so I hope she won’t spot me. I watch.
After a few moments the door opens. She’s standing there looking at him with a little smile. I can tell there’s surprise on her face when he hands her the flowers.
He comes in for a kiss on the cheek, which she gives him without hesitation.
Fuck! He’s good looking. Tall. Nicely dressed if you like nerdy pressed clothes. She invites him in with a sweep of her hand. The door closes.
What a fool I am. I start the engine and pull away from the curb. I’ve no interest in watching any more.
10
Jenny
Seven weeks, three days, fourteen hours, a handful of minutes.
That’s how long it’s been since I looked in his blue eyes, spoke his name or felt his arms around me. He made good on his plans to go back to Las Vegas. There was a small part of me that held out hope that he’d come running back to my arms. Or at the very least call and say he couldn’t live without me. Fantasy. Girlish fantasy. Face it, Jenny. He’s just not that into you.
Today’s appointment with Valentino is our last, as September gets ready to turn to October. As I walk to the Santini front door my mind is filled with questions. Soon I’ll be back to my own life. But it’s a redesigned world. It feels nothing like the one I knew before. For one thing, Peter’s now in the ex-boyfriend category. He finally believed it was over between us when I said there was someone else. There’s always the chance we could remain good friends. But I’m not sure he could do that. I get it. I wouldn’t want to be Nikos’s friend. It’s all or nothing sometimes.
Peter’s absence changes my social life. But life’s biggest difference is something I can’t name or categorize. Once you’ve loved, your definition of contentment, and normal, and happy changes. I love him. I do. It’s crazy to admit that even to myself, because we hardly had any time together. Yet I’d argue with anyone who’d say this can’t be love.
Can I ever really be happy again knowing what it actually feels like? I felt him call me the minute I laid eyes on him. I should have never let him go.
I ring the doorbell and wait. I hear someone approaching.
“Good morning, Jenny,” Valentino says opening the door.
He’s crutch free and looking happy about the fact.
“Morning, Valentino.”
“Come in.”
I give him a kiss on the cheek, because I feel like he’s become a friend. Although, most likely I’ll never see any of them after today. Last time I was here Sophia said she’d call me for lunch sometime. Will she ever do it? I’d love it if she did.
“Looks like you’ve made the recovery you were hoping for. You’re walking good.”
He motions for me to follow him into the kitchen. There on the buffet is a small feast of breakfast specialties laid out on lovely Italian ware. The small table is set with two place settings. One yellow rose in a bud vase is the centerpiece.
“Come on, sit. You and I are going to share a last meal,” he says. “Allow me to make you a plate.”
The kindness overwhelms me and I start crying, which throws Valentino. He puts down the plate and comes to my side. Leaning my head against his shoulder, he pats my arm.
“What’s this, Bella? Are you sad to be leaving us?”
I can barely speak, but manage to squeak out a, “Yes.”
“Oh, that’s so lovely. Sophia and I are sad too.”
I wave away my ridiculous and embarrassing behavior and take a seat. Wiping my tears away, I take a big breath.
“Please excuse me, Valentino.”
He sits opposite me and just looks into my eyes. It takes a few beats before a smile appears on his face. “What are you really crying about?”
Pausing to consider what I’m about to confess gives me the right amount of time to gather courage. “Nikos.”
His smile doesn’t fade. “You miss our boy?”
“I do.”
“What about the other guy?”
My tears stop instantly. “What other guy? There’s no other guy.”
Valentino takes my hand across the table. “Nikos thinks there is. He finally told me why he was so sad when he got tired of me badgering him.”
“What did he say?”
“He said he went to your house the morning he was leaving and he watched another man bringing you flowers, getting a kiss on the cheek.”
Oh no! “That was an ex. If you can call him that. It was an unusual relationship. That day I told him I didn’t want any of his overtures toward me again.”
“We thought Nikos was probably misinterpreting. But he’s impulsive. Makes up his mind quickly. Usually he’s right.”
I don’t know what to say or do. I’m stuck to this chair.
“Maybe you should tell him,” Valentino says.
I try to process the events and what their impact was on his choices. “But he was going back to Las Vegas anyway.” I look into Valentino’s eyes. “Wasn’t he?”
“Who knows? There’s an old Italian proverb that says no one can take the one who is destined for you. Jenny, I’ve never seen a woman have the affect you had on him.”
“Really?”
“He’s very special to us, you know. We wish he was here in St. Helena with the family. We miss him every day.”
I’m starting to feel something resembling hope rising in my body. I stand up like a pop goes the weasel toy. “I need to go!” Grabbing Valentino by the sides of his face, I plant a big kiss on his forehead. “Thank you! Thank you!” His laugh follows me out the door.
I make it into my car in record time. Taking my cell from my purse, I bring up Nikos’s number, take a deep breath and touch the number. Every unanswered ring brings more butterflies to my stomach until it’s aflutter.
You reached Nikos. Leave your message. Beep.
I hang up. Shit! Crap! Why’d I do that? Think. What am I gonna say? Umm, Nikos it’s Jenny. I’ll say we need to talk. No. We should talk. No. Do you want to talk? No! I’m calling him! Why would I ask that? Calm down.
I take a cleansing breath and just sit quietly for a while. What if I just drive to Vegas and show up at his place? No. That’s a horrible idea. He deserves a little warning. But I could leave a message that I’m on my way. Or better yet give him time to refuse my visit. Tell him I’m coming tomorrow. Yeah that’s it. Should I say anything about him seeing Peter at my house? Valentino didn’t say that I couldn’t.
Yeah. I’m definitely going to say that.
I try again. It rings the same four times.
You reached Nikos. Leave your message. Beep.
“It’s Jenny.” Suddenly I’m tongue tied. “We need to talk. I want to come to Vegas tomorrow. Nikos, what you saw, the man with the flowers, he wasn’t what you think.” Tears fill my eyes. “I told myself I wasn’t going to cry, but it’s just that it’s important to me that you know the truth. And the truth is it’s only you. So if this is something you want too, call me. I’ll be on the next plane. We can figure it—” Beep.
Cut off mid-sentence. But I guess I said everything I needed to. If he’s interested, he’ll call. I start the car and head for home. It’s best I think positive. I’ve got a plane to catch tomorrow, so I’ve got some packing to do.
I’m totally screwed.
Why hasn’t he called back? My bag is packed, reservations made for the morning, and what I have to say to him rehearsed a hundred times. Let’s see. It’s been eight hours. I called him at ten this morning, it’s six now. Face it Jenny, there’s only one explanation. He doesn’t want me to come. He doesn’t even want to talk with me.
My shoulders slump with the realization. Here I sit in my club chair in the living room, looking like a girl waiting for a bus out of her hometown. I’m dressed, just in case he had called to say ‘get your ass here now!’. My suitcase sits beside the wall, ready for the big trip. Pathetic.
The cell ringing sends a kind of electric shock up my spine. My heart races when I see the name. Tears moisten my eyes.
“Nikos.”
“What’re you wearing?”
“Pink with white lace.” I chuckle as I sit fully dressed in jeans and a sweater.
“Are you fibbing, Jenny?”
“Yes.”
“I thought so. What are you really wearing?”
“Absolutely nothing,” I lie.
Surprisingly, he starts laughing. “Nice. Let me see.”
“Here I am. Can you see me?” I whisper.
“Only the back of your head.”
What? Is he referring to me giving him head?
“Oh yeah. I’ve got your big hard cock in my mouth. Ummmm.”
He can’t stop laughing! Buzz kill.
“What’s so funny?! Am I doing it wrong?” Gone is my sexy whisper. In its place is an annoyed woman’s question.
He doesn’t answer. But suddenly I hear the music. The first notes of the Dirty Dancing anthem.
“Well I had the time of my life…”
I turn toward the sound coming from outside the window behind me. There he stands in the spotlight that shines from the path to the big tree. He’s dressed like Johnny in Dirty Dancing, black short-sleeved shirt open half way, black pants and shoes. He lifts his hand and crooks his index finger, calling me.
I’m not certain my feet are touching the ground as I run to the door. I’m outside and in his arms before a handful of seconds pass. We’re still kissing when he lifts and twirls me in the air.
“I’ll tell you something. This must be love,” he sings along with the lyrics.
My heart soars with the words.
He puts me down but doesn’t let go. Now we dance to the rhythm of our heartbeats. Close, slow, life affirming. He takes my chin in his hands and looks in my eyes.
“I never felt this way before.”
“I love you, Nikos.” The words pour out of me, independent of planning. But I’m not sorry.
The look on his face is pure joy.
“And I love you, my Jenny.”
I take his hands. “We’ll figure it out. I can travel to Vegas one week, and you can come to St. Helena whenever your schedule allows. We can make it work if we want it bad enough.”
He breaks into a wide smile then kisses each of my hands. “I’ll be here for good. I’m moving back.”
My heart and stomach and head all turn upside down. “For real? Because of me?”
“Yes. Because I never want another dancing partner. We need to get to know each other, and living apart wouldn’t work. I want to know it all. And I want you to know me. The good and the bad.”
“I snore a little,” I say giggling.
“Oh, then the whole thing’s off. I won’t put up with that,” he teases.
I grab him by the front of his shirt. “No! You’re here and you’re staying. Even if I have to handcuff you to my bed.”
“Okay, for that I’ll stay.” He smiles.
“What are you going to do for work?” I ask gently.
“I haven’t figured that out yet. But I will. And if it takes me a while to find my way, then I’ll be patient. I can work in the deli while I look for a job I’d be happy doing.”
We kiss. It’s filled with feelings too meaningful for words. When we part he braids his fingers through my hair and brings my head back gently. I feel soft lips on my neck.
“You’re the time of my life,” he whispers. “Everything else is detail.”
The song fades to its end, but Nikos and I, we’ve only just begun.
Epilogue
Nikos
July 2043
I watch from the window. The sound of the kid’s laughter and piercing screams is a familiar summer song. My brothers and sister and I were in our thirties when the pool was put in, but we made memories there too. Jenny and I in particular. What a day that was. Once in a while I dream of her standing on the rock, hair lifting in the breeze. In my dream we’re both still young.
Now there’s enough children in the Santini family to start two water polo teams. It makes me laugh to see Max’s mischievous twins dunking their cousins. They remind me of him when he was a boy.
He and Gregory have joined their children in the pool, and even though they’re in their forties, for the afternoon they’re just one of the kids. God, I remember the day Max was born and the day he lost his mother. Feels like a thousand hills and valleys ago.
Nash’s sixteen-year-old granddaughter sits, legs dangling in the water, petting her beloved collie who stands beside her. She’s got a lot of Nash in her. How many dogs and cats has our
family loved over the years?
The year OG died, Farrah, Nash and Max got my parents’ permission to plant multi-colored rose bushes by the big Oak. That’s where they scattered the ashes of their furry friend. Years later Fluffy joined him. And now the ashes of all the beloved animals find their resting place here, under the colorful blossoming roses next to the towering Oak tree. A painted tile plaque standing tall amidst the bushes reads, The Rainbow Bridge…Enter Here.
Left of the pool, Nash and Farrah lay on lounge chairs talking with Kate and Christos. They’re laughing so hard about something, Kate’s holding her side. I’m chuckling watching. I never forget it was Kate who led me to my greatest career success. Teaching dance to young performing arts students has been the most rewarding part of my professional life. Thankfully her connections were what made it happen.
Now at this age my body’s tired. I had to face that last year when I retired. Fifty-five is still young enough in most careers. Dance is an exception.
How can it be that time moved past us so swiftly? Christos is on Medicare for Christ sake and his hair’s almost completely white like our father’s. I’m one to talk. Mine has grown grayer by the month, temples and beard heavy on the salt light on the pepper already.
It’s ironic how the kids seem to be drawn to Kate and my brother. They’re the only ones who chose to remain happily childless. So, we made them godparents for four of the next generation of Santinis, and the kids made them favorites.
God knows we all respect their decision. It’s hard being a parent. The best and most challenging experience of your life. But I wouldn’t give up my choice for anything. My children have molded me into a better man and it’s unimaginable to think of life without them.
Who knew Jenny and I’d be the ones to have five? The first time I held my first son in my arms I cried. I laugh now a little with the thought. Our two oldest boys are coming later, but James, Audrey and Samanthe are here already to celebrate their grandparents’ 70th anniversary.