He looked up at me and waved. I didn’t move. He was certain I would forgive him. It was only a matter of time. I’d forgiven so much more already. But this morning, seeing the look on his face, watching him heading off to the Lido Varca D’Oro, I was left with a real pain in my throat and nausea bubbling up from my stomach. That one thing he wouldn’t do for me. He’d left me alone after my mother died, left me alone over the holidays and in the dead of winter.
He didn’t love me. My mother was wrong about that.
That night, as I went to bed, I prayed to God to send me a good man, a man I could trust, a man who would love me, a man who would take me far away from this place and protect me and give me a good life, a life nothing like the one I was living, nothing like the life my mother had had.
CHAPTER 3
A few months after I broke up with Nino, I was in the kitchen with Angela, slicing zucchini for that night’s dinner. She sat at the table, telling me about her day at work. Hearing her stories, I missed the days when I used to leave the apartment for work. As bad as things had been there, with people chasing my boss for money, at least I saw people, I did things. I had a life. Now it seemed I cooked and cleaned most of the time, only leaving to run errands. If I could have changed things, I would have, but I was stuck.
Rodolfo’s girlfriend Rita arrived. Rodolfo wasn’t home yet so she joined Angela at the kitchen table.
“Did you hear about the dance?” she asked.
“What dance?” Angela asked.
“The American Marines, they’re having a dance this weekend, in Villagio Coppola, at Ten Downy.”
“God, I love American Marines. They’re so sexy.”
“So let’s go, okay?” Rita said.
“Definitely.” Angela turned to me. “Luisa?”
“Go, but be careful. Come home before…”
“No, you come too.”
“Me?” I laughed. “No thanks.”
Rita came over to the counter where I was chopping vegetables. “You’re a free woman now, Luisa. Go get yourself a Marine.”
I laughed and felt myself blush. “I’m too old for those things.”
Angela came over too and stood on the other side of me.
“No, you’re not, Luisa. You’re only three years older than me.”
“Three years is a long time,” I said. “Besides, I don’t speak English.”
“None of us do. Dancing is international. You don’t have to speak English to dance. And I know you like to dance.”
“You go,” I said. “Forget about me this time. Maybe the next one.”
“No, you’re going to come,” Angela said. She turned to Rita. “We’re all going, the three of us. No, four of us. We’ll see if cousin Rosalia wants to come, too.”
“And Elena,” Rita said.
“Good idea, her too. This will be great!”
“You can all go,” I said. “But not me. I’m not going.”
“We’re all going,” Angela repeated.
“It’ll be good for you,” Rita told me.
“Listen…” I started to say.
Speaking at the same time, both Angela and Rita said, “You’re going!”
The idea of going there terrified me, but inside I thought maybe they were right, maybe it would be good for me to get out. I wasn’t going to dance with anyone, but maybe it would be good to go and listen to the music, just get out of the house for a change.
I shrugged and said, “What would I wear?”
“Let’s go pick something,” Angela said. “You’ve got a great body. We’re going to make sure you show it off.”
She and Rita rushed up the hallway toward my room, giggling. I couldn’t help but laugh too. Nervous laughter. I hurried up the hallway after them. I was scared of the idea of going, but part of me understood that maybe it was a good idea. Every time I didn’t want to do something and yet I ended up doing it, it usually turned out to be the right thing to do. Perhaps this was like that. I hoped it was, anyway.
The club was packed. Loud music blasted out the doors and into the parking lot. As we walked toward the door in our high heels, I noticed a young couple off to the side, trying to hide in the shadows, kissing. I thought of Nino. I thought of how lonely I was, not only now, but also when I was with Nino. I thought of how it might feel to be with a man who I really loved and who really loved me back.
I would find that love someday, I reminded myself. I was always a dreamer, even when life showed me little more than nightmares. But whatever the bleakness that surrounded me, I never let go of my dreams.
Inside the club the music was so loud we could barely talk to each other. It was mostly American hip hop and techno club pop, heavily synthesized with a contagious beat that drove you to move your body. The dance floor was crowded with bodies pulsating to the music, everyone bumping into each other, everyone looking so young to me. You could tell the American Marines. Most with short blond hair. Or black skin and no hair. The Italian girls went crazy for them.
“Let’s dance!” Angela yelled and grabbed my hand, pulling me toward the dance floor.
I pulled away. “You go. I’m not ready.”
I don’t think she heard what I said, but she seemed to get the message. She and Elena started dancing together. Rita and Rosalia disappeared into the crowd. I found a table off to the side and ordered a Campari. The music itself was great, the driving beat so loud that for a while I didn’t think about anything outside the club. Being here made me feel young again, almost carefree.
The rest of the girls came and joined me eventually, had some drinks, disappeared back onto the dance floor. They flirted with guys, even though some of them had boyfriends. I decided it was all for fun. I wished I could be that free. But even though it felt good to be here, I was quiet. And I had always been a little shy, never good at flirting and going up to men I didn’t know.
Much of the time I was by myself. Still, I told myself it was good that I was here. I enjoyed just listening to the music and watching the people.
Half an hour after we arrived, the music changed from hip hop to a slow ballad. Bryan Adams’ sang, “Everything I do, I do it for you.” I really liked that song so when it came on, I closed my eyes and…
“Hi. Excuse me.”
The man’s voice snapped my attention. I opened my eyes and saw an American Marine standing in front of me. He was tall, with eyes the color of the water in the Blue Grotto. The overalls and the white t-shirt he wore barely covered his muscular arms and shoulders. The first thought that flashed into my head was how good it must feel to be held by this man.
Angela or one of the others must have returned to the table without me noticing, which was why he was here, I thought. So I glanced around to see who he came to talk to. I was the only one there. But I saw Angela and the others coming this way from the bar. Angela looked shocked. The others giggled and pointed at me.
“Hi,” the American Marine said again, drawing my attention back to him. “Ma’am, would you like to dance with me?” he asked.
I wasn’t sure I heard him right. I understood enough English to know what he was asking, but it didn’t make sense. I made a vague gesture, pointing to myself, and gave him a questioning look.
“Yes, you,” he said. “You’re beautiful. I would love to dance with you.”
All I could do was shake my head “no.”
Undeterred, he reached down and took my hand. I was struck by the size of his hand, large and strong. He could have crushed my hand, but he held me gently, carefully and said, “Please. Dance with me tonight.”
I couldn’t understand why he was
asking me, why he’d come over to me. There were so many beautiful girls in this place. Why me? Angela and Rita had a good time helping me dress nicely to come here, but I knew I wasn’t beautiful, not like so many of the other girls there.
“No. Thank you,” I said.
By now Angela and the others had reached the table and told me in Italian to go dance.
“Hi,” the Marine said to the others.
They all said “Hiiiiii” in that flirting way they had, giggling. The Marine nodded and turned back to me.
“Please,” he said. “Dance with me. Please.”
“Si vai balla!” they all yelled at me, telling me to dance. Angela came around behind me and practically pushed me out of the chair. She whispered in my ear that he was gorgeous, was I insane, go dance with him.
Between his alluring eyes and manner and the others practically forcing me to go, I got up, took his strong hand and walked out to the dance floor with him.
With Bryan Adams playing, the craziness of the dance floor had changed to a sea of couples locked in embrace, swaying with the melody of the song. He put his arms around me. He felt so solid and strong. My body shuddered for an instant, something I couldn’t control.
“Is everything okay?” he asked.
I understood the word “okay?” and nodded.
He took control of my body as we danced. Even though it was a slow dance, the way he held me and led me, I felt for that brief moment like I belonged to him. The scent of his body overtook my senses. It wasn’t cologne. It was just him. I closed my eyes and let his essence and his strength and the music take me.
“You’re a good dancer,” he said into my ear. “Do you like this song?”
I nodded. I wished I could speak more English. But even if I could, I was so nervous at that moment I probably wouldn’t have been able to speak anyway.
It had taken me so long to say yes to dancing with him that the song ended too quickly. When it was done, he took a step back and looked into my eyes again.
“Grazie for the dance, ma’am,” he said.
“Prego,” I said. Again I didn’t know what to say. I didn’t know how to flirt in English. I wasn’t even good at it in Italian. I wished the dance hadn’t ended, but now that it was over, I found myself standing awkwardly in front of him, staring. The music switched back to hip hop. Bodies flooded the dance floor, bumping into both of us.
It was really over. I turned and rushed back to the table where Angela and the others were watching us and smiling.
“What happened?” Angela asked. “Why did you walk away? Go back and dance more with him.”
I glanced behind me, thinking that was what I really wanted to do, but I saw that he was gone, disappeared into the crowd, probably dancing with a younger, prettier girl. He hadn’t liked dancing with me. He didn’t like me. Probably when he’d come over to ask me before, because of the poor light he hadn’t gotten a good look. He’d been disappointed, but he probably just went through with the dance to be polite. The American Marines were always polite.
“Oh, my God, Luisa,” Angela said, pulling me into the chair next to her. “Tell me everything. Who is he? Where did he come from?”
“I don’t know. He’s American.”
“I know he’s American. He’s also like the most gorgeous guy in the place. What’s his name?”
“I don’t know.”
“You didn’t ask?”
“I forgot to ask.”
“Are you crazy?”
I had been so nervous when he came over, I hadn’t been thinking straight. But he hadn’t asked my name either, so I was certain he wasn’t interested. He was just being polite, after all. He was gorgeous, though. My sister was right about that. I had never in my life seen a man as handsome he was. Men like that didn’t date girls like me.
“Did you see the way he looked at you?” Angela asked.
“He didn’t look at me in any way,” I said.
“Are you blind?” Rita said. “He couldn’t keep his eyes off your body.”
“Or his hands,” Elena said. “Did you see how he held her?”
“How did it feel, those arms around you?” Rosalia asked.
It had felt like heaven, but I answered with a shrug and said, “Okay,” as if it were no big deal. I had always kept my feelings private. The last thing I would ever do was tell them, or anyone else, how I really felt.
What I really felt was a strange mixture of happiness at how good it had felt to dance with such a good-looking man, but sadness that now it was over, he was gone and I didn’t even know his name. Though I knew I’d never see him again, the few minutes on the dance floor with him started me thinking that maybe I wasn’t as ugly as I had always believed I was. I remembered the day I’d overheard my mother and Gianna talking about me “growing into my looks.” Maybe I really was.
CHAPTER 4
A week after I let Angela and Rita convince me to go the dance, I let them convince me to go back to Ten Downy again. There wasn’t a dance this night, but I went in hopes of seeing the Marine who had danced with me. I hadn’t stopped thinking about him since that night. And I’d had a taste of what it was like to be alive and free again, and I wanted more.
I made sure to have dinner ready for my father before I went out, but he still didn’t seem to like it.
“What are you going to do there?” he said. He didn’t question Angela. Just me.
“Everything’s done in the house. I want to go out and have a little fun, Papa.”
Angela came up beside me. “She’s looking for her American fantasy man.”
“No, I’m not.”
My father glowered at me. “Stay away from the Americans.”
“What’s wrong with the Americans?” I asked. “Mama always said that they helped us in World War Two, that they were good protectors, that…”
“Your mother married an Italian, not an American. That should tell you something.”
“Papa, I’m just going to go out for a few hours and have a little fun,” I said. “I work hard. I deserve a little play too. I’m not marrying anybody tonight, all right?”
“Funny. Take care of your little sister,” he told me. “And I want you home early.”
Angela kissed him on the cheek. “We’ll try not wake you up when we come in.” She giggled, teasing him.
“I’ll be waiting.”
. . . . .
When we arrived at the club, there were many more Marines than Italians. Angela and I started toward the bar to order drinks. We walked past the part of the club with pool tables and other games. I had only taken a few steps when I saw him, leaning over a pool table, lining up his shot.
His eyes followed the pool stick, past the white ball, and up to where I was standing. He didn’t move. He remained leaning, in mid shot, not taking the shot, not getting up, just frozen there, staring at me. Our eyes locked. I couldn’t move either. I felt myself blush and managed a nervous smile. His lips bent into a smile, and for an instant I saw that same look of captivation, of desire, that I had seen a week ago.
He slid the stick and the balls clattered around the table, the sound jarring me back into reality. I noticed now that Angela had continued to the bar and I realized I was standing alone, which unnerved me. I don’t know what came over me, but I had to get away. I hurried to the bar to join my sister. My legs were shaking.
“Angela, I saw him.”
“He’s here?” She peered past me, trying to spot him. “Where?”
I pointed. “What do I do?”
She saw him and nodded. “Okay, follow me.”
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“What do you mean? What do I do?”
“I know what to do.”
She took my hand and forced me to walk with her as she headed back where we had come from and over to the pool tables. When I realized what she was doing, I pulled her to try to stop her.
“No, no,” I said. “I can’t.”
“Just let me take care of this. I know what I’m doing.”
She practically pulled me all the way to the pool table where the Marine was playing. He looked up when we approached, first at Angela, who was in front, but he quickly looked directly at me and held his stare. I felt shy and looked down.
“Hi,” Angela said to him.
“Hello.”
“I’m Angela. This is my sister, Luisa.”
“I’m Brandon. It’s nice to meet you.” He shook Angela’s hand and then he reached over and shook mine. “Nice to meet you, Luisa.”
The feel of his hand again brought back memories of the previous week. A shiver ran up my spine. I was too embarrassed to say anything. Walking up to someone like this was something Angela could pull off. I couldn’t.
“Okay,” Angela said. “Brandon, would you like to speak to my sister?”
“Yes, sure.”
“Okay. Here she is.” She pulled me forward, right in front of him, and said, “I have to go.” Then she walked away, leaving me alone with Brandon.
I wanted to kill her.
. . . . .
We sat and talked in spite of my nervousness and our language barrier. I had studied English in school, but only remembered a few words. His Italian was limited, but better than my English. We could say basic, simple sentences, but that was about it.
“How old you are?” I asked. He looked very young. My father had always told me that the husband should always be at least four or five years older than the wife, like Nino was with me.
“You first,” Brandon said.
Until Forever Page 3