Searching for the One

by Gabriella Murray

  To everything and more, Sara wanted to say. To a life together of great happiness. But she fell silent.

  They sipped champagne quietly, enclosed from the world. Like them the car seemed to float miles above the street. She wished the ride could go on forever.

  "You're even more beautiful than I imagined." His voice was throaty.

  "I'm happy to be here," she purred.

  When the car pulled up to its destination, it seemed no time at all had passed.

  They got out at a small, wooden building on a half empty, broken down street. The air smelled fresh, though, heavy with salt from the ocean. Sara looked around.

  "Coney Island," Tony said. "Surf Avenue's over there."

  "My God," Sara said, flashing back to the day she'd met Melvin on the boardwalk, only a few blocks away.

  "This is a terrific restaurant - only a few people know about it. They make pasta from scratch."

  Tony put his arm around her waist and led her in.

  The place was small and mostly empty. It had a row of windows looking out onto the street and about six or seven round tables, covered with red, checkered tablecloths. Only one table was taken, a bottle of red wine on it and two fat guys eating.

  A big guy in a blue suit met them at the door.

  "Tony," the man called.

  "Frank," said Tony.

  Frank seemed to know him well. "The table back there," he pointed at a round table in the corner. "Waiting. Told Mouse you were coming."

  Tony grinned, "Thanks."

  "He needs to talk to you, Tony."

  "Later."

  Tony led Sara to a darkened alcove, near a small window. The alcove looked out on a back garden, with a big, golden Buddha sitting in the middle of a pool of water, fed by an artificial waterfall which gurgled continuously.

  "How come they have something like that here?" Sara asked pointing to the Buddha.

  "The owner likes it," Tony said. "He says it brings good luck."

  Frank came over and handed them menus, which neither of them touched.

  "You hungry?" Tony asked, not able to take his piercing, blue eyes off her.

  "No."

  "Me neither."

  Sara listened to the sound of the waterfall as Frank came back for their orders.

  "Let's have it."

  "Two Italian Salads - a bowl of linguini," Tony said without reaching for the menu or asking Sara what she wanted.

  "You got it," he said and left.

  "How do you know what I want?" Sara asked.

  "It doesn't matter what we order," he whispered. "You won't be able to eat a thing. Neither will I."

  Tony was right. The food came and they left it untouched, held hands, and looked into each other's eyes.

  "We've got to play it chilly, sweetheart," Tony finally said.

  Sara realized Tony had to live a life of chilly; he couldn't stand being filled with the wild, conflicting feelings seizing him now. If she played it chilly, it would probably make him feel that he could survive the onslaught of need and desire she saw in his eyes.

  "It's hard playing it chilly," she whispered, "when I feel like I know you forever."

  "One thing you don't know though," he said, "is that I can't stand women being disappointed with me. It doesn't make me feel happy - "

  "I'll never - "

  "That's what they all say in the beginning."

  Sara flinched. She realized it was pointless to try to convince him of anything; but she didn't feel the need to. Being with Tony was like sitting down after centuries, picking up where you'd left off.

  Frank returned and looked at their full plates. "Something wrong with the pasta?"

  "Bring us strawberries," Tony said. "With loads of whipped cream."

  "Strawberries?"

  Sara smiled. Tony looked at him and Frank rushed off. Sara looked over at the Buddha, who sat watching them without blinking an eye.

  "And sponge cake if you have it," Tony called out after Frank, who kept walking.

  "Do I have a choice about anything?" Sara asked.

  "That's a good question," Tony said.

  When the strawberries and cream arrived on the sponge cake they still couldn't eat. Tony scooped a bit of the cream on a teaspoon, tasted it and then put it down as they kept looking at each other.

  "Look," he said gruffly. "This is special. I know it. I'm not fooling myself. I could be for you someday. But I know you're a one man woman, and I'm not going to say I can do it, until I can."

  She picked up her fork and then put it down. Tears started to fall down her face.

  "Jesus," he said, leaning closer and cupping her face in his hands. "If you start crying my heart's gonna break - and I'm not a man who can afford a broken heart."

  Sara kept crying.

  "I feel sorry for you," he said softly.

  "Forget it," her heart flared. "I don't need anyone feeling sorry for me."

  "Great," he answered. "I liked it when you're like that - tough. It's a relief."

  "I'm not tough."

  "Wrong, baby. You just don't know it. From where I sit I see a mamma lion."

  She wanted to grab him then, shake him, yell, Tony, wake up, time doesn't last forever. Look at who I really am. Look at what is finally here.

  "This is only our first date," he said quickly, "if anyone heard us, they'd think we were nuts."

  "We are. So what?"

  He seemed to like that.

  "You think like me. I knew you were coming for the past ten years," he went on. "There's a lady I see who told me you were coming."

  Sara was shocked. "Who?"

  "It doesn't matter. She said it wasn't gonna be easy. The only thing I didn't know was you'd be so beautiful."

  As they talked, Sara listened to the waterfall in the garden gurgle louder than before. Who was this lady he saw? Why did she feel it could be Camella? Destiny's web seemed to get tighter as the waterfall gurgled even more loudly, trying to alert her, she felt, to the total madness that lay ahead. She felt it was trying to tell her that they were both only bubbles in each other's minds. But the incredible light shining from Tony's crystal, blue eyes made her forget everything but the feeling that they were going to be together for at least an eternity or two.

  Tony reached into his back pocket, left a crisp hundred dollar bill on the table, got up and pulled out Sara's chair. As he stood behind her, she felt a mountain of love and strength.

  They walked out of the restaurant. "Let's take a walk before we drive back," Tony said.

  "Good idea."

  She took his hand and they walked the half deserted streets of Coney Island. A stiff, ocean breeze blew in their faces as they walked, passing empty amusement park rides, the merry go round and the sled.

  "This is when I like it here," Tony said. "When I got the whole place to myself and can really see the sky. I'm a man who needs open space."

  A blue-grey sky, dotted with clouds, stretched in front of them as they passed an enormous roller coaster ride.

  "My favorite," he grinned, pointing to it. "See this little building behind it?" There was a small, broken down shack nestled at the foot of the ride. "Always thought it'd be a good place to make a home - in winter, that is."

  Sara thought of these streets in the summer, teeming full of sun, noise, and people in bathing suits and straw hats, devouring hot dogs and cotton candy, screeching for their lives on the rides. The place had the feeling of a ghost town now, oddly suited to the two of them.

  He walked her back to the limo, where Fillipo was reading the paper. When he saw them approaching, he jumped up and opened the door.

  "Take us back," Tony smiled.

  Sara suddenly felt exhausted and put her head back on the luxurious leather. Tony moved closer to her, tipping her head gently onto his shoulder. They both stared out the foggy windows as the car drove back to her neighborhood.

  After a while they came to her streets with little shops and then large, Colonial homes with manicured
lawns and shrubbery trimmed in all the right places.

  "Ugh," Tony said as they approached. "Very nice, but not for me."

  Sara's hands got damp.

  "I don't lead a normal life, honey," he said softly. "Just don't."

  After two more blocks, the car turned her corner and stopped in front of her house.

  They got out of the car together and walked slowly to the front door. Sara felt as if she were back in high school, with the biggest guy on the football team. Tony squeezed her hand as they stopped at the edge of her lawn.

  "I can't come in," he repeated.

  Sara felt they were both fourteen, her mother inside, waiting to yell at her for being late.

  "Just for a second. Please," she held his hand tighter, not wanting him to go.

  He didn't want to leave either. "For a second," he said, suddenly shy.

  Tony was a composite of so many moments, so many feelings, Sara felt as if she were with a kaleidoscope, colors and patterns changing from one moment to the next. He walked in the front door and were immediately greeted by the sound of the saxophone upstairs, blaring Putting On The Ritz. Oh God, Sara thought, Abel's lesson!

  "What's that?" Tony asked, alarmed.

  "My son, Abel. He's practicing his sax. Abel!"

  There was no way he could possibly hear her as the sax kept blaring. She pondered running up the stairs, but thought better of it.

  "You got three kids, right?" Tony repeated to himself. "You told me and I forgot."

  "Does that bother you?"

  "What are you talking about? Kids are the greatest thing in the world. I got them too. Legally I'm divorced from my wife. But we're still married in the eyes of the church."

  Sara swallowed. "What does that mean?"

  "How do I know? I'm away all week and go home on Sundays to take the kids to confession, then to soccer games in the afternoon." He looked at her out of the corner of his eye. "Your kids must be beautiful, with a mother like you." "They are. I bet your kids are beautiful too."

  "The best." Tony was proud of his family and proud that Sara was a mother too.

  "Let's sit in the living room," Sara said.

  Tony followed her into the living room sheepishly as the blaring sax followed them.

  "I don't want to meet them right now," Tony said, hesitating.

  "You don't have to."

  "It's a lot for one day."

  They sat close on the sofa and her heart pounded. Suddenly a second saxophone joined in. God, Sara thought, Mr. Giordanni!

  "I'm sorry," she said, "I thought it would be quieter in here."

  "Listen," he whispered.

  "What?"

  "Don't take this serious, please. It's not gonna work between us. I got a crazy life. I don't know what I'm doing half the time."

  Sara refused to believe a word he was saying.

  "And I'm gonna fight this with everything I got."

  "Me too, I'm gonna fight it," Sara echoed, as an intense surge of love burst through her chest, and the saxophones played A Kiss is Just a kiss.

  Tony stayed another few minutes, then leaned over and said, "It's been a great afternoon. This next month's busy. I'm travelling all over the place. I'll call you the month after that - maybe." He got up and walked to the door.

  Sara walked behind him. He stopped at the doorway. She went close up to him and lifted her face, expecting him to kiss her. He didn't.

  "Bye," he said as he walked out of the door.

  Sara closed the door behind him, went back into the living room, and sank into a pile of throw cushions heaped on the sofa. She hardly knew what was happening, had no reason to feel her whole world rocking. But it was. He was a part of her - whoever he was.

  * * * * *

  After that, whenever the phone rang Sara jumped up and raced for it. To no avail. He didn't call. This afternoon, she didn't realize it was one o'clock and it would be Tova.

  The sound of her mother's voice shocked Sara, immediately deflating the dream, like a new hairdo suddenly gone limp in the rain.

  "Guess what?" Tova started immediately. "Good news. I got a call from Arnold today."

  "You got a call?"

  "Of course, why not? He called to thank me for the special evening, for all my trouble and for his meeting someone so wonderful as you. That's what I call manners. You don't find it much these days, but it was around plenty in my time."

  Sara gulped her thoughts down, trying to act nonchalant.

  "He's just about the happiest man you ever saw. Since he saw you, he can't sleep a wink. He's been shopping for new shirts, checking out florists, thinking about buying a new car. . .You know what that means, when a man is that happy?"

  Sara went numb. "Not really."

  "He said no one ever saw him like this before. He even asked me to go with him to look for silver. You can't imagine how relieved I am."

  "About what?"

  "A daughter finally finds security and can put her family back together again. It's no small thing, Sara."

  "No, it isn't."

  "And it's not just you - you've got to think of the children too."

  "You're right there," Sara agreed; but her mind and heart forcibly circling around Tony, blocking out her mother's fierce will. Let Arnold talk to her mother all he liked. Let them make their plans. Let them build a world that couldn't tumble, made bricks and stones. Now that she'd met Tony, Sara didn't know if she could ever live in a world like that again. The thought of Arnold and Tova working things out caused Sara to get up, go back to the shed and dip both hands into her vat of formless, wobbly clay and sob.

  * * * * *

  "Everyone's taking bets about him," Cynthia spoke rapidly, the way she usually did when she was upset. She was obsessed with Tony, even suggesting that Sara call her in her car if something unusual happened. "The consensus of opinion is that he's married."

  "Only in the eyes of the church," said Sara.

  "You believe that"

  "He doesn't lie."

  "And what's being married in the eyes of the church, right? Greta's sure he's a gangster. She discussed the whole thing with her cousin Tom. Tom said there's no question about it. That's the way they all live. Here one minute, gone the next. You never know what they're up to, either." Cynthia barely stopped for a breath. "Tom told Greta there are lots of them floating around at the clubs. If I knew this would have happened, I never would have asked you to go with me to Club G that night. God! Now I feel responsible. These guys can look wonderful, then you're in deep and can't get out."

  Sara laughed. "He's definitely not a gangster. I'm positive."

  "Just promise me one thing."

  "What?"

  "That you'll go back to those emails! Try other guys, please. For me. You can't sit around waiting for this guy forever. It's not healthy."

  Sara felt her stomach turn as she thought of it.

  * * * * *

  Try as she did, it was impossible for Sara to get back to the emails; it was also impossible for her to think of meeting Arnold Beane again. She didn't want to see anyone.

  Now Tony occupied her entire mind. She wanted to shake it, but it wouldn't go away, so she spent time re-arranging the furniture, cleaning out drawers, trying to catch up on old correspondence. She refused to sit home and wait for his call. She loved and resented his cavalier attitude. He flew in the face of all expectations, like a thunderstorm that came out of nowhere when you least expected it.

  She couldn't stop thinking of him, of what their life would be like if they ever married. Soon she then found herself reflecting on Melvin and their married years. She never felt anything like the way she felt for Tony before. She never waited for him with baited breath, or thrilled to the bone when he returned. Still, there had been something comforting about his regularity. But what did it amount to in the long run? Now he was out there somewhere, living with his new, young, redhead in his Manhattan apartment on the eighteenth floor. And somewhere out there Tony was on the road, darting
in and out of odd places, but dreaming of Sara every second. Sara knew it, she felt it. Arnold was also out there, at his accounting firm, pouring over numbers, balancing ledger books. And somewhere, Sara wondered, maybe someone she hadn't even met was also out there, hoping to find the woman who was right for him.

  Sara ran her hand through her hair, feeling keenly how the days and hours were numbered for them all. Perhaps time itself insisted that they simply touch for a moment and then move on.

  * * * * *

  As if her thought willed it, the phone rang; but it was not Tony, as she had hoped, but Melvin.

  "Sara!"

  Sara paused, disheartened.

  "What's doing?"

  "Not much."

  "Really? I hear you're dating a tough guy, who picks you up in a limo - fully equipped with a greasy bodyguard!" Melvin's voice was high and extremely vibrant.

  "There's nothing greasy about Fillipo - and he's a driver, not a bodyguard."

  "Oh, so he has a name! Fillipo! I'm outraged. Completely. How dare you do this to our children?"

  "Calm down, Melvin. Tony's not a mobster."

  "Tony? What is he then?"

  "Someone I care for - "

  "You what?" Melvin sounded like he couldn't believe it, the words sticking in his throat.

  "Someone I care for, Melvin. Like you love Alicia."

  "Who said I loved her?"

  "You've been living together for months."

  "Does that mean I love her? Or does it mean she's good for my ego? Which was shattered by the time I finally got out of our marriage. You're trying to get back at me now, dating someone like that."

  Sara couldn't say anything.

  "Maybe you like him, but you're living in a dream world. My therapist says figments of our imagination can seem clear as day."

  "Your therapist is foolish, Melvin."

  "He said Tony isn't real to you, that it's easier for you to have a relationship with a figment of your imagination than a real flesh and blood man."

  Sara's face flushed. "Why do you spend time with your therapist talking about me?"

  "Dr. Rose says this guy's visits will get more erratic. What you're involved in is not a relationship - it's a fantasy. It won't sustain you in the dark hours."

  "What will?" Sara asked.

  "Damned if I know," shouted Melvin.