Stronger

by Janet Nissenson

  “I guess I never realized that,” mused Dante. “Look, I know this is short notice, but I was hoping to see you this afternoon for a little while. How much longer do you expect to be there?”

  “Let me check.” She walked over to the dryer. “My stuff will be dry in less than fifteen minutes. And the next bus will come by about ten minutes after that. Which would get me to my place in approximately forty five minutes.”

  “Forget about taking the bus. I’ll pick you up. What address is the laundromat at?”

  She told him and waited while he plugged the information into the navigational system of whatever car he was driving today. “Dante, you don’t need to come all the way out here to get me,” she protested. “I take the bus all the time, it’s no big deal.”

  There was a brief pause before he replied. “Cara, for once please don’t argue with me, okay? According to the GPS I should be there in fifteen minutes. Is it easy to find parking in the area?”

  “Not really. I’ll just wait for you outside, that’ll be easier. See you in a few.”

  As she ended the call, Cara frantically began to rummage through her pack, though not for the cold medicine this time. She realized with a sense of doom that there was very little she could do at this point about her bedraggled appearance, but she had to do something. A glance in her little pocket mirror made her shudder in revulsion, and she wished that she’d followed Mirai’s oft-given advice about packing a makeup kit with her. She managed to rake a brush through her tangled, semi-greasy hair - having been too lethargic this morning to wash the overlong tresses - before hastily scrabbling it into a thick braid. From the depths of her well worn backpack she unearthed a nearly empty tube of nude lip gloss, and managed to scrounge enough to coat her dry, chapped lips. Without any other makeup on hand, she resorted to the old fashioned tactic of pinching her cheeks to get some color in them.

  Unfortunately, there weren’t any tactics she was familiar with that would make her holey sweatpants and baggy sweatshirt look any more appealing. If she had a sewing kit on her - another must-have, according to Mirai - then she could quickly repair the visible holes over each knee. But there was nothing she could do at this late notice to get rid of the marinara sauce stains splattered across the front of her sweatshirt. She would just have to keep her fingers crossed that Dante wouldn’t notice.

  As she stuffed her dry clothes into a duffle bag, Cara was faced with a new worry and tried really, really hard not to jump to conclusions about why Dante wanted to see her so unexpectedly. They never saw each other on Sundays, since those were the times he typically spent with his family. But, she reasoned as she walked out to the curb to wait for him, he had seen his family the last couple of days.

  Did he want sex? A home cooked meal? For once, she wasn’t in the mood for either, given how lousy she felt. And she was wearing her oldest, rattiest set of underwear right now, a pair of panties and a bra that she would positively cringe at having him see her in. No, as much as she’d missed him, as much as she wanted to be with him, she was going to have to find a way to curb his passions, because hell would freeze over before she’d willingly allow him to see her wearing such tattered undies.

  Or did he want to see her unannounced on a Sunday afternoon for some other reason - a reason that she dreaded to even think about. Cara shook her head fiercely, scolding herself for once again overthinking everything. Dante probably just felt bad that he’d been a little out of it lately, or felt guilty that she had been alone all weekend while he’d been having fun with his family. He was kind and considerate in that way, after all, and she felt better instantly at that realization.

  He pulled up in the loading zone just outside of the laundromat, driving his BMW this afternoon. He emerged from the car before she could protest, and her heart made that funny little jump it always seemed to do when he was nearby. He looked tanned and buff and extremely fit, dressed in his usual weekend garb of jeans and a fitted T-shirt, this one in a light gray. And while the sight of him in one of his designer suits, crisp white dress shirts, and silk ties always made her go weak at the knees, she actually preferred him dressed like he was right now. The casual look seemed more natural for a big, tough guy like Dante, and it made her less self conscious about her own rather pathetic wardrobe.

  “Here. Let me toss that in the back seat,” he offered, taking the duffle bag from her, then frowned as he realized how heavy it was. “Don’t tell me you were going to lug this thing home on the bus? And your backpack as well.”

  Cara shrugged, not wanting to make a big deal over what for her was simply part of her weekly routine. “I’m stronger than I look,” she joked. “Instead of lifting weights I lift laundry bags.”

  But Dante didn’t seem to find her attempt at humor the least bit amusing as he helped her inside the car. Nor, apparently, did he appear to be thrilled with the neighborhood they were presently driving through.

  “Is this seriously the closest laundromat to your place?” he asked, shaking his head in disgust as he took in the numerous corner bars, liquor stores, boarded up buildings, and mostly unsavory looking pedestrians. “This area isn’t someplace you ought to be hanging out in, even if it’s just to do your laundry.”

  She nodded. “There was one closer but it went out of business last year. And this place isn’t all that bad, not really. The neighborhood is quieter on Sunday afternoons than it is say on Friday evenings.”

  Dante shook his head in disbelief. “Please do not tell me that you used to take the bus to and from this area on a Friday night.”

  “Just a few times,” she assured him hastily. “I switched my laundry day to Sundays after that.”

  He muttered something beneath his breath that she couldn’t quite catch, but she knew without having to ask that it wasn’t anything she wanted him to repeat.

  “How was the baby shower?” she inquired brightly, anxious to change the subject.

  Dante grimaced. “Well, I’ve got nothing to compare it to, but let’s just say watching my sister open up boxes of baby clothes and diaper bags and stuffed toys wasn’t the most fun I’ve ever had. But Talia certainly enjoyed it, so I guess that’s one of the sacrifices you make for your family.”

  Cara patted him on the arm. “You’re a good brother. I’m sure your sisters think so, too.”

  “Yeah, I guess so.”

  She continued to keep up a cheerful patter of conversation during the short drive to her apartment, forcing herself to remain calm and upbeat when his replies were mostly monosyllabic and seemed forced. But when her constant chatter provoked a coughing spell, and earned her a reproving look from Dante, she fished a cough drop from her backpack and kept silent for the duration of the drive.

  He insisted on carrying both the laundry bag and her backpack inside, and she cringed anew as she unlocked the door, recalling now that she’d been too tired and sick this morning to do much tidying up. The bedcovers were rumpled, the dishes unwashed, and she’d forgotten to take the trash out. But Dante didn’t seem to care, or even notice, that her usually neat little apartment looked as unkempt as she did today.

  “Can I get you anything?” she offered. “Coffee, water, I think I have some beer around. Oh, and there’s half a bottle of wine left from the last time you were here. Do you think it’s still any good? I didn’t want to throw it away since it was so expensive but if…”

  Dante placed a finger over her lips. “Hush. You always tell me to warn you if you start to babble too much. Consider this your warning. And no, I don’t want anything to drink. We - I need to talk to you about something, Cara. Let’s sit over here, okay?”

  “O-okay.”

  Reluctantly, almost fearfully, she allowed him to guide her over to the futon where she hastily attempted to straighten out the bedcovers until he placed a gentle hand on her arm.

  “Leave it,” he urged. “I don’t give a damn if the bed is made, especially not when it’s obvious you feel like shit.”
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br />   Cara nodded and plopped down beside him. His hands were clasped on his lap, and his gaze was directed on the opposite wall as he visibly struggled with what he wanted to tell her. And for once in her life she had never felt less like talking, wanted to beg him not to say anything, but to simply hold her instead. Hold her in his arms and never, ever let her go.

  Instead, he spoke the words she had dreaded he would say, the words she had foolishly hoped she would never hear from his lips.

  “Cara. This - this isn’t easy for me to tell you,” he began carefully, almost woodenly. “These past few months spending time with you, going out with you, have been wonderful. You’ve been wonderful. But I told you from the very beginning that I couldn’t make you any promises, that I wasn’t offering you any sort of commitment. And we also promised each other that when the time came for us to move on, that it would be without regrets. I hope that you still feel that way, because - ”

  She shut her eyes tightly, already feeling the tears welling up. “Because you’re breaking up with me,” she finished hollowly. “Because we won’t be seeing each other anymore.”

  He took her hand in his, squeezing it comfortingly. “Yes,” he replied quietly. “We had a lot of good times together, Cara, and you made me laugh, made me happy. But it’s time for us both to move on now, to go back to just being friends. At least, I hope you’ll still want to be my friend.”

  “Friends.” She repeated the word. “Just friends.”

  “Yes. I care about you, Cara, about your wellbeing. It isn’t right that you’re on your own this way, that your father isn’t doing more to help you. So I want you to know that you can always count on me to be there if you need something. I want to continue being a good friend to you. If that’s what you want, of course.”

  Cara kept her eyes closed, having little to no faith in her ability to stop from bursting into tears otherwise. “I - I guess so, yeah. I mean, you’re still Nick’s client so we’ll have to see each other in the office once in awhile. I just - well, I know we agreed that things between us were casual and all, but, well, what went wrong? Like you said, we had a good time together. Did I say something, do something, to make you mad? I’ve tried so hard not to be clingy or needy or ask you for stuff and..”

  Her voice cracked a little then, whether it was from the unshed tears she was battling to hold back or her cold. Dante slid his hand over her knee, giving it a reassuring squeeze.

  “No, honey,” he told her tenderly. “God, I’m not sure you have it in you to make anyone angry or upset. And you’re the least clingy female I’ve ever met, not to mention stubborn as hell about accepting gifts. You’re kind and sweet and generous, and one of these days you’ll meet a guy who can appreciate all of those qualities, and hopefully be deserving of a girl like you.”

  She sniffled, a loud, decidedly unfeminine sound, but at this point she was beyond caring. “Why can’t you be that guy?” she whispered brokenly, feeling what small bit of control she still possessed swiftly starting to disintegrate. “You and I get along really well, we have a lot in common. Why can’t we just keep seeing each other the way we’ve been doing? I’ve never asked you for anything, Dante, especially a commitment. So if you aren’t upset with me about something, and you still like being with me, then why end it this way?”

  Dante hesitated, and as she glanced over in his direction she noticed that he was visibly uncomfortable with the way this conversation was going. “Because - well, it isn’t fair to you,” he answered haltingly. “You deserve someone who can make that sort of commitment to you, who can be the man you need. You and I are just at different points in our life right now, Cara. I’ve already finished college and started a business and traveled all over, whereas you haven’t done any of that. What if you get a great job offer in another part of the country and have to move away?”

  She shrugged. “So what? I’ll be through with school in another year, and will see what my job options are at that point. Why can’t we just keep seeing each other until then? I’m in no hurry at all to settle down and get married and stuff, and it honestly doesn’t matter to me if things stay the way they’ve been between us. Unless - oh. Oh, God. There’s someone else, isn’t there? You’ve met someone new and you think it could be serious with her and that’s why - oh, geez, what an idiot I’ve been!”

  The shocked expression on his face gave her all the answers she needed. The real reason he was breaking things off with her - and likely why he’d been so distant as of late - was because there was another woman in the picture now. Dante had met someone new, no doubt someone beautiful and poised and sophisticated, someone worthy of him and of being introduced to his family and friends. It should have been so obvious, so clear, and yet the thought hadn’t even occurred to her until just now.

  “It’s not what you think,” Dante insisted. “And it’s not someone new. Not exactly. I - well, at my cousin’s wedding back in July I ran into my ex-girlfriend there. Katie. And we talked for a little while, mostly to clear the air between us, and..”

  “And you realized you still had feelings for her,” Cara commented numbly. “Have you been seeing her all this time, then?”

  “No!” He was adamant in his denial, shaking his head emphatically. “Not in the way you think, anyway. I’ve never been a cheater, Cara, or a two-timer. When I’m with a woman I’m only with her, one hundred percent of the way. I haven’t been sleeping with Katie, haven’t even kissed her. But we have met a few times for coffee or lunch. She’s living back in the area again, gave up her acting career for good this time, and wants to go back to school or find a new profession. So I’ve been giving her some advice, discussing ideas, that sort of thing. And in the process - well, you hit the nail on the head. I realized I still had feelings for her, that I wanted to give our relationship another try.”

  Cara scoffed. “This is the same woman who chose her career over you, isn’t it? The one who turned you down cold so she could become an actress. And now that things haven’t worked out so well for her, she’s come running back. I thought you were smarter than that, Dante. I guess I was wrong.”

  “It’s not like that,” he protested. “And believe me, I know exactly what I’m getting into. Things will be different this time around.”

  She shrugged, pulling her legs up to her chest and resting her suddenly weary head on bent knees. “Whatever. It’s got nothing to do with me, does it? And if Katie is the one who makes you happy, then you should be with her. Thanks for being honest with me, and at least telling me in person.”

  Dante reached out to stroke her bent head soothingly. “What? You think I would have told you something like this over the phone?” he asked in disbelief.

  Cara jerked away from his touch, not caring when he looked dismayed at this rejection. “It wouldn’t be the first time that’s happened to me,” she muttered. “Or via a text message. Anyway, there really isn’t a whole lot more to say, is there? I’d suggest you get your stuff and leave, but since you never left any of your things here - since you never once spent the night - that’s sort of a moot point.”

  “I don’t blame you for being angry with me,” he commiserated. “I haven’t exactly been the ideal boyfriend these past few months. But I meant what I said earlier, Cara - I really enjoyed our time together, enjoyed being with you. You made me feel good about myself again, helped me through a rough patch.”

  She shook her head in disbelief. “A rough patch caused by the same woman you’re going back to now. Jesus.”

  “I know it sounds stupid. And I don’t expect you to understand or approve. But Katie and I have a history together, Cara. I was going to ask her to marry me earlier this year. And seeing her again made me realize that I still had feelings for her. Feelings that didn’t entirely go away just because I was angry with her. And, yes, we have some issues to work through, some things we need to resolve, but I know I at least need to try.”

  Hearing him admit that he still cared for th
e woman who’d broken his heart made her own heart crumble into tiny pieces. And unleashed the floodgate of tears she’d been struggling so hard to keep at bay. The tears ran unchecked down her cheeks, and she brushed them away impatiently, only to find more of them streaming uncontrollably from her eyes. She reached for a wad of tissues that she’d left on the small table next to the futon, and tried without success to stem the tide of her weeping.

  “Cara.” Dante’s voice was reproving. He wrapped an arm around her shoulders and tugged her against him despite her protests. He brushed a kiss tenderly against her temple, and smoothed back several untamed curls that had long ago escaped from her messy braid. And because it felt so good to be held against his big, strong body, even though he’d just broken her heart, she clung to him, burrowing her face against his neck as she sobbed uncontrollably.

  “Hey,” he chided gently. “What happened to our agreement, hmm? No regrets, no accusations. And you promised not to tell all your friends that I’m lousy in bed.”

  In reply, she just cried harder, realizing that it was really and truly over, that there would be no more dinners out together, or evenings spent talking over a home cooked meal and a great bottle of wine. And there would definitely not be any more hours-long, mind-blowing, amazing lovemaking sessions. That particular privilege, among numerous others, would now belong to his no-longer ex-girlfriend Katie.

  “Shh. Shh.” He tried almost desperately now to soothe her, to get her to stop crying and calm down. “Come on, Cara. You promised me that you could handle a relationship between us. That you were mature enough to deal with it. And that you wouldn’t fall apart when one of us decided it was time to end things.”

  Cara lifted her head from his shoulder, keeping her eyes downcast as she realized how truly, truly hideous she must look by now. As if having one of the worst colds in her lifetime hadn’t been enough, now she’d been crying her eyes out for several minutes. Snippily, she bet that Katie looked beautiful even when she cried. And that someone as perfect as she probably was never got colds or the flu.