My Heart Lies in Pisciotta

by Cate Nielson Raye

  I tried pulling the door free from his tight grasp but it didn’t budge. “Ana, listen to me.” I shoved at his chest so I could get to the handle but he grabbed my shoulders firmly and spun us around until I was pushed hard against the door. His hands gripped my forearms and his face was inches from mine. “Is he who you want?” He asked again a determined look in his eye. His breath brushed against my cheek as I stopped fighting and met his heated gaze. I gave him a pleading look but he leaned in closer still. I gasped and whispered into the small space between us, “You know I only want you.” With a shuddering breath I gave him what he wanted to hear, that I wasn’t over him after all.

  His body tentatively melted against mine and his hands travelled to my waist. My forearms lowered and came to rest on his firm shoulders, my finger tracing the familiar hairline at the base of his neck. It had felt so long since I had touched him like this, I ached with the thought of our last night in Pisciotta, of his early morning visit and the passion he had shown through every touch and every kiss. Our breathing increased and I knew he was remembering it too. My mind was screaming out for him to kiss me again. All he had to do was lean in and meet my lips with his and I would be his again. We could pick up where we had left off, right here against this door.

  I watched the warring emotions on his face as his hips pinned me against the hardwood. He eventually closed his eyes, brought his hands against the door either side of my waist, and rested his forehead on mine. I breathed in his scent, so familiar and comforting, I was sure he was about to kiss me. “I’m sorry,” he pushed away from me slowly and shook his head, “I can’t.” His eyes were sad but his resolve was clear, he wasn’t going to touch me. Angry tears pricked at my eyes, “You break my heart and all you can say is sorry?” I snatched my bag from where I had dropped it. He stepped back and winced, a hand running through his hair anxiously and eventually resting over his eyes, “Ana, I’m thinking of you-”. I snatched at the door handle, “Just stay the hell away from me,” I spat and marched out of the room without glancing back. I marched straight for the bus stop and didn’t pause to think. When I eventually got back to my flat I messaged Charlie saying I had an emergency at home and wouldn’t be able to meet him. Then I tied back my hair, threw on my painting coat, and took all my anger out on the canvas I’d set up by my window. That’s where I remained for the rest of the night.

  Chapter 14

  At lunchtime the following day I had met Charlie at the Student Union Starbucks for a coffee and panini. I had managed to pass off my home emergency as a water leak and when he asked what Sam had wanted I told him that he was chastising me for all our whispering. He seemed to buy my story and didn’t question me further on the subject. “I guess we should be a bit more discreet. In class anyway.” Charlie sipped his coffee and reached out a hand to hold mine. I hesitated then folded my hands in my lap beneath the table. He watched my body language and his brow creased with concern.

  “Um, I never told you but…I got out of a pretty serious relationship this summer.” I started to explain myself but he rolled his eyes and shook his head. “This is the big brush off isn’t it?” I quickly backtracked and grab his forearm. “No, no, no. I’m telling the truth. It’s partly why I wasn’t myself at the beginning of the semester. I’m just not ready to jump into anything with anyone yet.” I hoped he would understand. I had led him on and the guilt I had previously ignored in favour of dangling him in front of Sam had hit me full force. I had played with his feelings and encouraged his advances. “I do like you, Charlie, but I can’t be with you like that.” He took a slow sip from his coffee cup and sat frowning at the table.

  He eventually met my gaze, his face serious and sad. “We can fool around though right?” I sat back in shock until his face split into a mischievous grin and he winked playfully at me. “Don’t do that!” I punched him half-heartedly on the arm. “It’s ok, really. I knew you weren’t as invested as I was. But if you’re ever on the market again, I get first dibs ok?” I rolled my eyes and laughed but agreed to his terms, knowing full well that time would never come. I hated Sam for the position he had put us in but my heart still burnt passionately for him and I still hoped that we would be together again. At that point I wasn’t sure if too much damage had been done to make it a possibility.

  “Anyway, you can make it up to me.” He slid a piece of paper across the table. Unfolding it I saw it was a flyer advertising the Freshers’ Ball in October. “I know we aren’t dating, but you are the hottest girl in class after all and I think I would love to have you on my arm for the ball. Will you be my date?” Lecturers were always present at the Freshers’ Ball. I knew Sam would be there carrying out some duty to the university. He would have to see me yet again with Charlie and I would have to see him looking handsome in a tuxedo and pretend it had no effect on me. “I wasn’t intending to go.” I pushed the paper back toward him and finished off my cheese and ham panini.

  “Oh come on, Ana! You have to go, all the Freshers will be there!” I shook my head and washed my food down with a big swig of coffee. “It’s on a Thursday, I normally work Thursday nights.” Charlie argued with me some more and told me to book it off work. I couldn’t think of another excuse and I knew he wouldn’t believe it even if I did so I told him I’d think about it and finished my lunch in peace. I wanted to go to the ball but, as nice as Charlie was, I didn’t want him as my date. Deep down a part of me wished that Sam would quit his job and be with me again. That I would be on his arm for the ball and not my friend’s.

  I cycled home after lunch, choosing to work on my drawings in the living room rather than the busy university studio. As I entered the house and ran up the stairs I met Tom exiting his door on the second landing. “Hi!” I exclaimed accidentally making him jump so he dropped the bin bags he had been holding. I took my headphones out of my ears. I hadn’t seen Tom since the crying incident and I felt like I had to redeem myself and prove that I wasn’t a highly emotional bimbo who’d sprung a leak. “Ana, hi! How are you?” I nodded and gave him a genuine smile, “I’m doing ok. As good as I can do at the minute.” He gathered the bin bags off the floor and leaned against the banister. “Not over the ex-incident yet then?” I shrugged but carried on smiling, “Not completely…but I’m getting there.”

  He nodded and made to move down the stairs so I walked onto the landing to let him pass. “Um wait…I’m ordering Chinese tonight and they always send too much for one person. I’m not a fan of leftovers. Fancy hanging out tonight and having some food?” He paused mid-step and gave me a questioning look. “I thought you’re not over the ex-incident?” I blushed furiously and stammered in response, “N-no…I mean…you know…just as friends.” I bit my lip nervously, “We are friends aren’t we?” He smirked up at me, “After scooping you off the floor mid breakdown I’d say that yes, we are friends.” He grinned and I blushed some more. “Ok, I’d love Chinese. I’ll bring some wine. Say about seven?” I nodded eagerly and rushed up to my flat to get some work done before he came over that evening.

  Tom did bring wine after all. Three different bottles in fact, because he didn’t know what I liked. I happened to like pretty much all wine so throughout the night we made inroads into all three bottles. We laughed and discussed his career, my classes, Sam, and the woman he had broken up with a few months prior. I didn’t tell him why we had broken up, or that Sam was now my lecturer on the course. Tom told me about his parents who lived in Cambridge and his sister who was currently living in Edinburgh. I let slip a few details about my home life, the mother who was too busy climbing the social ladder to raise her daughter and the father who used to control every aspect of my life. “Used to?” Tom asked, obviously slightly concerned he was about to find out my father had died. “Yeh…he used to. I was meant to be a surgeon…I was set to go to med school and make him look good to all his fellow attorneys at the firm. But I put my foot down and came here. He’s had nothing to do with me since.” I raised my glass to nothing in particular a
nd drained its contents.

  “It sounds like you had a pretty shitty time of it the past few years.” He filled my glass with the last of the wine and lay back on the sofa where we were relaxing top and tail. “Well, not anymore,” I slurred slightly. “You know what bugs me most?” He shrugged and invited me to continue, “I didn’t have much of a life back then. I didn’t live. I didn’t make many friends. I didn’t sleep around or act like a wild child. And I’ve still been living like that, even here!” I took a lazy gulp of wine and watched Tom sip his carefully. He really was quite sexy in his tailored trousers and open-collared, crisp white shirt. Not in the same way as Sam, who felt like home, but he really was quite appealing sitting so casually on my sofa cushions, our legs overlapping and my feet in his lap.

  I don’t know what came over me. Loneliness and the need for human contact perhaps, or even the copious amounts of alcohol. Before I lost the courage I ran my foot slowly up his thigh. He grabbed my ankle, stopping my progress, a warning in his eyes. I sat up quickly and stared at him, my eyes animated, my cheeks blushing with embarrassment and wine, but I still moved toward him, craving some form of touch. He allowed me to place my hands on his chest but stopped me as I leaned in to kiss his neck. “Ana, you don’t have to do this.” I sighed and stroked the frown line appearing on his forehead. “I know…I want to.” He shifted uncomfortably on the sofa as I squeezed his thigh boldly. “Ana, you’re sad, and you’re drunk, I don’t want to take advantage.” I sighed, fighting back my emotions and rested my hands back on his chest. “Please, Tom? Just stay tonight.” He looked down at me, torn between being turned on and worried about the emotional implications. “Don’t make me beg,” I whispered.

  He stared at me for a minute then took my hands in his. Pulling me into his lap he leaned in close and feathered light kisses against my throat making me shudder. I blocked out the thoughts of Sam, of the fucked up relationships with him and my father, and let Tom explore me through my clothes. He stood and pulled me with him. I followed like a lost puppy as he led me to the bedroom and sat me on my bed. Sitting next to me we kissed and touched and I clumsily undressed. He stood and crossed the room before turning back to me. “Are you sure?” He said, untucking his dress shirt slowly from his trousers. I watched him, careful not to let my mask slip through the wine-induced haze, and I nodded. He closed the door, the lights went out, and he joined me on the bed once more.

  * * *

  The room rocked and swayed as if I were on a boat. I clung to my mattress as a wave of nausea crashed down on me. I chanced opening one of my eyes to check if I was alone in the bed. A streak of bright, late morning light was cast through a gap in the curtains onto the empty bed next to me. I fought through the foggy events of the previous night. I knew there’d been touching, a lot of touching. I could still feel my lips kissing his lips and wishing he were Sam. My aching mind was painfully aware of being naked with him and looking down into his heated eyes. I remembered where he put his hands and the moment he ducked under the sheets and between my legs. I didn’t recall the sex itself. I didn’t even know if we had gone all the way. I cursed inwardly at my ridiculous, drunken behaviour.

  Clutching my head I grabbed a pair of shorts and a cami top from the bedroom floor and quickly dressed. I paused in the doorway as nausea hit me again. I hated wine hangovers, they were always the worst. When I was sure I wouldn’t empty the contents of my stomach onto the hardwood I stumbled down the hallway toward the kitchen. I could see Tom sitting, shirtless, and eating a banana, at the kitchen counter. Deciding to get the humiliation over with I wandered into the kitchen cautiously, barely able to look him in the eye. “Good morning,” he dragged out the “good” and made me blush furiously. I sank onto the stool next to him and dropped my head in my hands. “Tom, I am so sorry.” I shook my head still unable to look at him.

  He slid a glass of wine across the counter toward me making me recoil. “Hair of the dog. Drink it, it helps.” I resisted the urge to vomit into the glass but quickly downed it and groaned as my stomach protested. “You need to eat something. Want me to make pancakes?” I shook my head again as he began rifling through my kitchen cupboards. “Well, you at least have to have some toast.” He popped two slices of bread in my toaster and sat back next to me. I glanced up at him, finally meeting his eye. “Hi,” he smiled and went back to his breakfast. “Did we,” I gestured vaguely between the two of us, “you know, did we?”

  “You mean you don’t remember? I’m hurt!” He feigned disappointment and stood to fetch my breakfast as the toaster popped. He spread some peanut butter on one slice and Nutella on the other, popped it on a plate, and placed it in front of me. I wrinkled my nose at the smell but tentatively took a couple of bites. “If you mean did we have intercourse then…no, we did not.” He sipped his coffee and pulled at a bit of banana peel. “Um…what did happen?” He turned to me with a widespread grin, “Everything but,” he said with a suggestive bite of his banana. I dropped my head onto the kitchen counter. “Oh no! This is bad, this is so bad!” He slipped off the stool and wandered out of the kitchen, “Actually, I got the impression that you thought it was good. Very good in fact! You said it numerous times,” he called down the hall as he got dressed in my bedroom.

  I finished my toast, stumbled over to the sofa and sat with a pillow over my eyes. I felt the cushions shift next to me and looked up to see Tom watching. “I’m sorry.” I covered my eyes once again feeling mortified, “I am so sorry”. He shifted closer to me and took my hands in his. “Look, I’m not expecting anything, ok? You were sad, you wanted someone to care about you for one night, I was happy to spend the evening in bed with an amazing, beautiful woman.” I smiled sadly, “But I’ve ruined this now.” I squeezed his hand and lay back on the sofa cushions. He sighed and lay back with me. “How about we just say it was a moment between two lonely people. It doesn’t have to happen again. If anything I think it brings us closer together as friends.”

  I lay my head on his shoulder and thanked him. I was glad I hadn’t lost one of my few friends in York. I walked him to the door of the flat and hugged him goodbye. As he reached the top of the stairs he turned back and leaned against the bannister. “You said you don’t get out much. My friend is having a party next weekend, you should come with me.” I began to protest but he held his hand up to stop me. “Just as friends. Not a date. You need to start living for you, not for your past. I’ll come to get you Saturday at eight, okay?” I smiled and nodded, closing the door as he left down the stairs.

  With no class to go to I cleaned up the flat and had a shower, washing the sticky sweat of my hangover off my skin. Tom was right, I did need to live for myself. I couldn’t carry on with life as if Sam was going to eventually pick me up again, and I couldn’t live like I was trying to impress my father. I needed therapy, the kind I found surrounded by paints. I tied my hair back, threw on my painting overalls, and set up my paints. I didn’t work on any of my classwork, I didn’t think about what I was painting, I let my mind take the brush where it wanted. That was my therapy, and at least I would always have that.

  * * *

  “Oh my god, Ana! I can’t believe you!” I cringed and hid underneath my blanket on the sofa even though I knew Abby couldn’t see me. “I know, I know! I don’t know what came over me.” I couldn’t believe I had been so bold to pounce on Tom the way I had. I vowed to never drink wine again. Abby laughed down the phone line, “Was it good at least?” I blushed remembering what had happened beneath my bedsheets. “That doesn’t matter, Ab. I feel like I cheated on Sam.” Part of me was still waiting for Sam to decide our student-teacher connection didn’t matter and I hadn’t completely accepted that we had broken up because, technically, we hadn’t. He had told me that he couldn’t be with me while he was my teacher and he wasn’t going to be my teacher forever.

  “Ana, he hasn’t asked you to wait for him. In my opinion, you’re a free agent.” The idea of being free from Sam made my heart clench painfully.
“Regardless of that, it won’t be happening again, Tom and I are just friends.” Tom wasn’t looking for a relationship, and neither was I. It was better that we remained just friends. “Hmmm, yes but there is still the dashing Charlie you’ve been talking about. Who knew you’d have so many guys after you?” I rolled my eyes at her dig, “Also just a friend,” I whined. “But he has invited you to a ball. He can be your Prince Charming for the night. You should go! Have fun. During and after if you get my drift.” I brought the conversation to a close before she could suggest any more men for me to sleep with.

  For the next week and a half I kept myself to myself. I spoke to Charlie only briefly between classes, we were friendly but I had put a stop to the flirting and constant chatter. After a few days of this he soon turned his attentions to the other girls on our course. I focused purely on my work in class and Sam seemed to be more relaxed around me when I wasn’t hanging off another guy’s neck. In all honesty, he had been a little too relaxed. I could always sense when his eyes were watching me or when he was close by. He regularly stood behind me watching me work and whenever our eyes would meet he would hold my gaze with a stare so penetrating I felt like he was reading my mind. He gave me constructive criticism in the studio, reaching over my shoulder now and then pointing out areas I could work on or telling me to stop when I was in danger of overworking a piece. I left the studio on Friday feeling like we were back in Pisciotta, before our physical relationship had begun and it was all about the art.

  On Saturday evening I stood in front of my bedroom mirror and adjusted the little blue dress I had chosen to wear to the party. I had curled my hair, painted my nails, and was wearing a full face of makeup for a change. There was a knock at the door and I called for Tom to come in. He entered and waited in the hallway. “Geez! You look lovely,” he gasped as I wandered toward him, grabbing my coat off the hook by the front door as I passed. I thanked him and let him walk me out to the Uber that was waiting at the end of our driveway. It took twenty minutes to get to his friend’s house as it was on the other side of the city centre.