“Oh, and when he goes to Italy he sometimes brings little presents for her. I told him she loves plush toys and last time, he brought this little plush teddy bear, I would’ve played with it. He leaves once a month to go visit his family. He’s very close with his sisters and he told me he has an army of nieces and nephews. Did you know he’s babysat all of them? I bet he’d make a great father one day, not like my ex-husband who could never spend more than just five minutes around his own daughter. And by the way, Alessandro is taking Romanian language classes; he really wants to learn the language. Can you believe he wants to live here in our country when everyone else tries to run away from it? And his accent, oh, his accent is so sexy. I’ll say something and he responds in Romanian and he is so cute! Then we laugh about it as he tries again and repeats words after me.” Eva sighed, then reached for her glass of wine.
“Eva, I bet he doesn’t say a word, no one can talk when you talk.”
Tessa’s head spun from all the talking. She loved spending time with Eva, but today she just kept talking and talking. And everything revolved around Alessandro. And it hurt—she missed him too much. The more she heard his name, the more Tessa’s pulse kept escalating and once at home she indulged in a long cry and even called him, but hung up before the phone rang. He was never far from her mind; in fact no matter what she did, she thought of him. Sometimes missing him felt agonizing, but she knew in her heart she wasn’t good enough for him.
Tessa’s life wasn’t as tumultuous as it used to be. Nor did she meet with her friends, even though she had been invited to several gatherings, theater plays, and movies. Not everyone knew exactly what happened, but she didn’t feel ready to talk about it, either. At Chiara and Octavia’s insistence, she looked for therapists who specialized in assault and rape victims. Her first appointment was a total fiasco, with an older woman, who kept staring at her above thick-framed spectacles and seemed more interested in how the rape happened than what her emotional state was. She had left the office and when the assistant asked her to book the next appointment, she told her the woman needed a therapist herself.
Tessa threw herself at work and kept herself busy with the house renovation. She spent her days making plans and lists, visiting stores, deciding on flooring, wood and tile, and meeting with various contractors. Being around men in general frightened her. The first day workers showed up on her steps, she let them in, but snatched her cell and hid in the bathroom while sweat dripped between her breasts and her hands shook uncontrollably. Frantic, she called Chiara crying and telling her she couldn’t do it, she couldn’t rebuild her life fearing human beings, even her own shadow. It took her half an hour to emerge from the bathroom, and only after Chiara reassured her countless times nothing bad would happen; those men had come to work, not to assault her.
Her house soon became a construction site. From early morning till late in the night Tessa worked on getting all the necessary supplies for the construction crew; electricians replaced the old circuits with new ones, which would sustain the new AC system. Painters scrubbed down the old paint, patching up and repainting ceilings and walls. Several workers replaced the old tub and sink, making room for newer more modern ones. She also decided to replace all the windows with more energy efficient ones, a costly investment but worth it down the road. She replaced all the interior doors as well as the front door with a massive metallic one, just to make sure no uninvited people would ever enter. She also had a security system installed that gave her a sense of safety, something also lost since the attack.
Sometimes Tessa had better days; sometimes she struggled to even get up in the morning, not finding any motivation to keep fighting to stay alive. One night, after the last worker had left and she checked on all the doors and windows for the third time, Tessa lay on the empty floor and wept overcome by loneliness. In many ways, her stale house represented her broken life. Each bare wall, each broken tile represented her empty heart and soul, mutilated and stripped of emotion. Would she ever feel normal again? Would she ever know the warmth of an embrace without panicking, the intimacy of a kiss without revulsion?
The renovation slowed around Christmas with workers spending the holiday with their families. She took that time to go through boxes of her mother’s stuff as well as through her own. Her expensive outfits, brand-name shoes and purses remained boxed. Half a year ago, all those items meant a lot to her, but not today. She found them frivolous and part of a past she had no intention of returning to. She divided the storage unit boxes into two stacks: ones she wanted—a lot of unopened mail from the months she spent in the mountains, photos, books, several souvenirs—and boxes she planned on giving away to whoever was in need. Her mama’s antique desk and rocking chair were the only furniture pieces she decided to keep.
Chiara surprised her for Christmas and flew to Bucharest for a week. Her bubbly personality and enthusiasm rubbed off even on Tessa and New Year’s Eve found them closer than ever.
***
The steel kettle whistled in the corner on an improvised electric plate. It radiated some heat, though not enough. Clad in thick pajamas, bundled under heavy covers, Tessa and Chiara browsed through family photo albums.
The house was a total disaster with cement sacks everywhere, wires hanging down from the walls, piles of tile and wood in the middle of the rooms. They didn’t have hot water and the heaters had yet to be installed, but that didn’t stop them from having a good time.
“Do you even wonder who he was?” Chiara asked sprawled on the air mattress in Tessa’s bedroom.
Tessa got up, poured hot tea in two mugs and returned to her mattress. “Who he was who?” she asked.
“Your biological father.”
“Oh, him.” Tessa frowned, thought for a moment and said, “Yes, sometimes.” She shrugged, flipped another page with photos and said, “I mean, part of me wants to know who he was, but the other part thinks, why bother? I have no name, no photo of him, no information other than he screwed up my mama. And even if I have an insatiable curiosity about him, we don’t have in this country any way of investigating the matter. I doubt I have ever heard of a detective type service. Where would I start?”
“Well, how about asking Mama’s friends if they ever saw or heard anything? How about Dina? They worked together in the same hospital. They were good friends, weren’t they?”
“Hmm. This sounds kind of awkward. I don’t know how to approach Dina; I’ve known Victor for so many years and have been close friends with his family, but this is such a personal matter, I don’t know if I can talk to her about it. It’s about our own mama being unfaithful, you know? How do you talk about it without feeling ashamed?” Tessa slammed the album closed and picked another one.
Anger with her mama seemed to overwhelm her once more. The letter had opened a can of worms for her and she wasn’t sure she wanted to keep digging into it for fear of what she might find out about her biological father. Her fragile state of mind didn’t need another blow.
A photo of her as a toddler in a plastic tub, buck naked and grinning at the camera made her burst into laughter.
“Look at you, you were so pretty! I remember this bright, innocent smile that captured everyone’s heart. No wonder Mama couldn’t ever get mad at you,” Chiara said and pointed a finger at the photo.
“Yeah, I was quite a character,” Tessa replied.
Midnight found them giggling at old memories and other photos.
Long after they turned off the lights, Chiara’s last words resonated in Tessa’s mind, keeping her awake: “I think you need to at least try to find who he was. It’s part of who you are, a missing piece of the puzzle of your life. Healing is a very long process and all you have right now is time. Maybe this is what you need: to shift the focus from how much you hurt, to something challenging. What if you have other siblings; wouldn’t you want to know?”
***
Tessa’s apartment sold mid-January at a surprisingly high price. As promised, she paid her si
sters for their part of the inheritance left by their mama.
The day Tessa wired the money into her sisters’ accounts she decided to spoil herself with a spa appointment. She went in, but changed her mind at the last minute, for fear of getting the massage—her repulsion for intimate human touch was still too strong, but she got a manicure and pedicure. Since she’d butchered it, her hair had grown to about her shoulders, and instead of the negligent looking ponytails she’d been wearing, she opted for a chestnut color with highlights and asked the stylist to straighten it. She even put subtle make-up on, then purchased a mascara, an eye-liner and a new lipstick. When she returned home, the engineer in charge with overseeing the construction didn’t recognize her and asked who she was looking for. When he realized who she was and mumbled some apology, Tessa smiled.
By the end of February Tessa moved from the bedroom where she’d camped during the remodeling. Once new flooring and fresh paint went in this last room, the house would look brand new and she could move to the next stage: furniture, appliances, drapery. Her excitement about the transformation mounted; with each day that passed by, with each bit of progress—no matter how little—towards the finished product, Tessa realized that this was no longer just her house, but her home, a place she belonged, a place one day she’d be happy to be in again.
She chose to ignore the world outside her soul’s wall, that world seemed distant to her; no desire to be part of it any longer. No more parties, no more traveling, no more meetings, no more insane work hours, or events that used to fill her life. Instead, she found peace and joy in solitude and observing nature’s magnificence. She used her spare time to read, sometimes just sit on a bench in a park and take in the beauty of a bird flying, a bee’s buzzing or a sunset’s splendor, things she previously didn’t have time to see, but so simple and beautiful. She used to feel in constant competition with herself, with the people around her, chasing something, but not anymore. She found herself more grounded, more in tune with her own feelings and emotions, things she used to be too busy to acknowledge. Experiencing first hand the fragility of life opened her eyes to the time she squandered with frivolous pursuits.
Forgiving herself for things she had done wrong—accepting Daniel back into her life after they split, accepting his out of control spending and tantrums, signing the second batch of contracts without reading their content, trusting the notary—seemed a harder process, but she began writing them down, analyzing them instead of pushing them to the back of her mind. She began making peace with herself, realizing there was absolutely nothing she could do to change the past, but just let go and move on rather than dwelling for too long on the same issues.
Tessa found Mr. Borcea, a retired police officer and convinced him to use his knowledge and expertise to help her find out who her biological father was. Her mama’s letter was her only proof, but without a name, a photo or an address, all her attempts had been so far unsuccessful. The more barriers she encountered, the more stubborn and persistent she became. She felt as if her devotion to find her father—maybe other half siblings—temporarily masked the hole left from Alessandro’s absence.
Chapter 17
Tessa arrived at the furniture store fifteen minutes early for her appointment with the kitchen designer. She decided to stroll through the aisles lined with furniture, paying no attention to anyone around her. She was very deep in her thought, walking slowly from one aisle to another. Rounding a corner, she bumped into someone and, clumsily, she tried to step aside.
“I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to—” she mumbled, trying to back off, bending at the same time, hands reaching to catch her purse that fell off her shoulder. Then she realized the person she bumped into was…Alessandro.
Simultaneously, Alessandro went down trying to catch the purse before hitting the floor. Their knees bumped, their faces so close they could breathe in one another’s scent. Some of the purse’s contents spilled on the ground, but neither Alessandro nor Tessa reached for it. They just stared at each other.
“Tessa?” he finally said, his voice caught in his throat. He swallowed hard as his eyes devoured her, like someone seeing Mona Lisa’s painting for the first time.
As surprise faded, they both began gathering the items—lipstick, dental floss, car keys, and her sunglasses. Once everything was back in her purse, Tessa began to straighten her body. Alessandro touched her upper arm, trying to help her stand, then removed his hand as if it burned him.
She could feel her cheeks on fire, her heart racing at the sight of him. His brief touch felt warm, but her skin didn’t crawl and, to her surprise, she felt no revulsion.
“Alessandro, what are you doing here?” she said, clutching her purse.
“I’m looking for a few things. And you?” He brushed a hand through his hair and then shoved both hands in his jeans.
That gesture, the gesture she used to love, brought back so many memories, dear memories, and Tessa felt overwhelmed by the weight of them.
“My designer—I need new furniture. I have an appointment,” she mumbled.
A tall, gorgeous brunette came toward them, speaking Italian and gesturing towards the other side of the store at the same time. When she finally saw Tessa, she stopped abruptly, mid-sentence, one hand raised in the air.
Tessa felt as if someone knocked her off her feet, like a boxer taking a KO within seconds of the first round of a match. Bumping into Alessandro unexpectedly shocked her, but seeing him with another woman seemed unbearable.
She would’ve run away if the designer with whom she’d had the appointment hadn’t shown up and rescued her from making a fool of herself. The designer approached and said something she seemed not to comprehend, took her elbow, and then steered her towards the office. Without saying another word Tessa followed like a robot.
Tessa couldn’t focus on what the designer explained to her. Her brain, a total fog, replayed the image of Alessandro standing in front of her, so close she could smell his cologne, that familiar mixture of lemongrass and sandalwood. He looked so flawless and handsome; a white long-sleeved dress shirt with the sleeves rolled up a bit and a few buttons at the collar undone, dark jeans and boots. Simple, yet classic and sexy. His rebellious shoulder length hair pushed back with the usual strand falling on his forehead and a two-day beard shadowing his angular jaw, his eyes sparkling, and his mouth, oh, his mouth that always knew how to taste hers…
How much time had gone by since they last saw each other? She often thought of him, wondering what he did, where he was; missing him still felt painful, even now, after so many months since their break up. She still tried to convince herself that breaking up with him was the only viable solution for that period of her life, and wished her heart wasn’t pounding like crazy, making focusing on her appointment that much more difficult.
“Tessa, are you okay?” the designer’s voice brought her back.
“Oh, yes, sorry. You were saying…” Tessa said, forcing a smile.
“I said, based on the dimensions of the kitchen, we have the option to fit in a little dishwasher.” She drew the kitchen and made notes next to each item.
“Okay, let’s go over this one more time,” the designer said and explained to her once again the kitchen’s design: the L-shaped kitchen didn’t allow for a lot of extras, but if she pushed her appliances to one side she could line the other with cherry cabinets for an elegant feel, and still leave room for a table at which to entertain—if she ever felt she could do such a thing again.
Seeing Alessandro changed her original plan to look for bedroom furniture. She left the store as soon as she finished ordering the kitchen.
Tessa stopped and picked up dinner, then drove home, still feeling distraught and unable to focus on anything. She picked at her meal, not really hungry until the food cooled off and no longer appealed to her. She ended up throwing it away.
Alessandro wasn’t leaving her thoughts. Butterflies in her stomach kept her awake almost all night. He already seemed to h
ave moved on; he’d had a woman there, so beautiful and sexy, Italian like him, with whom he had probably more in common than he did with her. She tried to convince herself that she wasn’t jealous and that she lived the life she wanted. Until she made peace with her past and healed from the rape, she’d stay single. No man would fit in her life now; she was busy creating her nest, taking charge over her own life and finding something to work on to ensure the living standards she wanted for the future. Right?
God, how I miss her! Alessandro stood there, looking longingly after Tessa. He liked her new hairstyle and color, which made her look even younger, but it also gave her a mysterious and sexy look. Her eyes looked like burning emeralds, the color even more intense. The total change in her appearance told him she looked for a new start; one that didn’t include him, apparently.
He came to look for furniture for his new house. The construction was almost done, and he’d moved into one of the bedrooms. For the kitchen, he got a plastic table and two chairs, a little gas stove and coffee machine—that’s all he needed for now. He moved out of the rental place he had shared for a short period with Tessa, and tried to look at the new house as being his new home. He spent a lot of time in each furniture store in town, looking for the best quality and price he could get. He was in no hurry to furnish the house, first because it wasn’t finished and second, because he liked to take as much time as possible until he found what he really envisioned for the inside.
Alessandro returned to his old habits after life with Tessa; work, work and more work. He traveled sometimes across the country, one day in the mountains, and the next in the opposite direction towards the Black Sea. He fell in love with a medieval looking town called Brasov, about 300 km from Bucharest. He loved the scenery, the untouched and wild nature in the mountains and the historical buildings everywhere. As often as he could, he was on the road, driving kilometer after kilometer and discovering more interesting and historical places.
Hidden Heart Page 21