Pain Lived, Love Found

by Lake, Thalia

  ***

  After our second steamy lovemaking session, Luca and I lay in bed and talked until the wee hours of the morning even though we both had to be at work in just a few hours. We talked about our wedding plans and what we wanted and didn’t want, and were in complete agreement. Mostly because Luca kept telling me whatever I wanted, I could have. That’s every woman’s dream to hear, but it’s nice to have the groom’s input on things too. He offered a few suggestions, and I made mental notes of them. This is both of our day and I want our wedding to reflect both of our tastes, our style, our love.

  We eventually got out of bed and took a shower together. I had to force Luca to behave and mustered up all the willpower I had not to not give in to his sexy advances. I whipped up a quick breakfast of scrambled omelets with bell peppers, onions, mushroom, and cheese, with wheat toast and bacon. Luca made the coffee and set the table. We laughed and talked while we ate our breakfast, stealing kisses in between. After the dishes were put in the dishwasher, we went back upstairs to get dressed.

  Watching Luca get dressed for work had to be the sexiest thing I’ve ever witnessed. I sat on the bed with my legs crossed and simply enjoyed the show. He looked over at me a few times with a sexy smile as he went on with his routine. The man was quite meticulous about his suits and what he chose to wear. He spent a few minutes in his walk in closet as he put together his look for the day before he came back out with his suit of choice, dress shirt, socks, and shoes and tie. He laid everything out on the bed and began to get dressed while I quietly observed him.

  “Are you enjoying the show?” he asked smiling as he looked at me through his dresser mirror. He had already slipped on his suit pants, and he was now buttoning his shirt, hiding his beautiful chest and stomach from me. He opened a small jewelry chest that sat on top of his dresser as he took out some gold cufflinks and put them on.

  “Very much so,” I replied as I smiled shyly. I couldn’t help but think that this is what I had to look forward to waking up to for the rest of our lives. Going to bed together, waking up together, taking showers and long baths together, having breakfast and getting dressed together…..it seemed so surreal but I couldn’t help feeling so blessed and excited. I waited my whole life for this. Honestly, I never thought this day would come. I never thought I’d find the right man or a man strong enough to want to deal with me and my many personal and family issues, and yet here I am completely in love with this incredibly amazing man standing before me. Never have I been so happy, so full of joy and contentment. Now I know what true happiness feels like and nothing can take me off this glorious high.

  Chapter Twenty-One - Telling The Santorini’s

  Sloane and I kept our engagement news a secret for a few more days before we decided it was time to tell those closest to us. We set a wedding date for September 1st, which gave us four months to plan our wedding. It was fun having this secret just between us, and there were many times we talked about eloping. The only thing that kept me from following through with that plan is the disappointment of my mother. Seeing her face unhappy and disappointed always hurt me to my soul, and I know as a mother, an Italian mother, her children’s weddings meant the world to her.

  It is now Monday, and I called my parents to inform them that I had some big news to share with them. My father was calm, but I could tell that my mother was excited. “I’ll whip up some lasagna for you Luca, your favorite. Bring some wine figlio (son).”

  “Mama, you don’t have to do that,” I said shaking my head even though I knew me saying this would fall on deaf ears.

  “Do what your mama says Luca,” my mother said in her Italian accent in a tone that conveyed she would hear no more on the subject.

  “Yes, mama. I’ll see you and pop in a bit. Ciao.”

  For the first time in a very long time, I was nervous. I’m talking heart palpitating, sweaty palms nervous. My family isn’t racist by any means, but they are very traditional. I have no doubt that they will welcome Sloane with open arms, but I know they will have many questions - the number one being what her true intentions are towards me. That’s why tonight I plan on putting my parent’s fears to rest about Sloane.

  I left work, picked up a couple of bottles of wine and went straight to my parents’ house. I called Sloane on my way there simply because I missed hearing her voice. We spoke for a few moments until I pulled up in front of my parent’s modest home. It was big enough to fit all of us kids and our families if we ever slept over, like over Christmas which was our tradition, but much smaller than what most people would expect a very well off family to live in. My parents employed one housekeeper, a part time cook, two groundskeepers and a chauffeur. My mother has always been hands on when it came to raising her children and cooking and cleaning her home. She said it kept her young and in shape, and I would have to agree. To be seventy-one years young, my mother was a very spry, beautiful woman. My parents didn’t come from money. Their humble beginnings kept them humble even when they found financial success here in the states. They have always been a low-key couple who never drew unnecessary attention to themselves, but always gave generously to many charities and organizations. My mother gave a lot of her time and energy to organizations that helped domestic violence victims, single mothers and abused or orphaned children. When she wasn’t home, she was usually at the women’s shelter or volunteering at the local orphanages trying to find homes for the children. If my mother could, she’d bring them all home with her.

  I parked my car out front and let myself in with my key. My father was in the sitting room as usual watching ESPN. “Hey pop,” I said as I poked my head inside of the doorway. “Ciao, son. Come, sit with me for a moment,” he said with kind eyes and a warm smile. I sat next to him on the huge leather sectional in front of his 75” flat screen television that was mounted on the wall across from him.

  “How are things with you? Your mother and I haven’t seen much of you in a long time.” I knew that was code for “Who is she?”

  “Things are great, poppa. I have been busy lately, but it’s a good busy.” I pinned him with a look to let him know that I knew what he wanted to hear, but he’d have to wait until he and mama were together to hear my news.

  “As long as you’re happy, son. That’s all I care about,” he said as he tapped my knee.

  “I’m gonna take this wine to the kitchen and say hi to mama,” I said as I stood up. My father is a perceptive man, and I’m sure he saw the signs of a man in love from looking at me. Even so, I wasn’t saying a thing until I had him and mama together.

  Walking into my parent’s spacious kitchen, I saw my beautiful mother with her gorgeous silver hair standing at the counter chopping various vegetables for a large salad. Even though it was just the three of us tonight she still cooked as though there were ten people coming for dinner, and that was because my baby brothers Rafe and Cristiano would come by at any given moment looking for food. They were single and never kept food in their apartment and knew that mama would have leftovers for them to devour.

  “Ecco la mia donna preferita. Ciao mama,” (There’s my favorite lady. Hello, mama.) I said before I gave my mother a big kiss on her cheek and a tight hug.

  “Am I still you favorite lady, or have I been replaced my love?” she asked with a knowing stare.

  “Behave, mama. I’ll explain everything over dinner and not a minute sooner,” I said as I shook my head at her.

  “Well dinner is ready, so you take this salad along with the wine to the table and I’ll bring the lasagna and bread.”

  “Yes mama,” I said as I took off my suit jacket and laid it across a chair and began to do as she instructed.

  “Stefano, dinner is ready!” my mother yelled to her husband.

  “Venendo, il mio amore.” (Coming, my love.)

  Soon we were all seated at the table, and after poppa said grace we began to eat. After taking several delicious bites of my mother’s famous mouthwatering lasagna, I decided to tell them my ne
ws.

  “I know you’re wondering what’s been going on with me and why I haven’t been over as much as I used to. I’ve met someone, and she’s a wonderful, beautiful person inside and out. Her name is Sloane Paris.”

  As I suspected, neither of my parents were surprised, but I saw the happiness in my mother’s eyes.

  “Why does that name sound familiar?” my father asked.

  “She works at Pricewaterhouse, but when I first met her I didn’t know she worked there,” I replied.

  “So she’s working on our account?” my father asked with a disapproving look on his face.

  “She is, and I know what you’re thinking poppa. We’ve gone to great lengths to keep our personal lives discrete and separate, and she no longer plays a key role on our account anymore.”

  “It’s still risky son. You know how I feel about mixing business with pleasure.”

  My father is very old school, and I agree with him on most of his views. Once word gets out about me and Sloane’s engagement something will definitely have to be done. I’m sure they can have her work on different accounts without her having to give up her job there.

  “Tell us more about her. Where is she from? Who is her familia?” my mother asked, changing the subject to avoid an argument between my father and me.

  “She was born and raised in Detroit; she has three brothers and two sisters. Her home life was pretty painful growing up. It was awful actually, full of sadness, but she managed to pull through, and she put herself through college and now has a successful career as a financial analyst. She’s an amazing, strong, kind woman, and you two will love her as much as I do.”

  Both of my parents stopped eating and looked at each other and then at me.

  “Yes, I love her. Very much, and I asked her to marry me, and she said yes.”

  “Oh, Luca! Sono così felice per te figlio mio!” (I’m so happy for you, my son!) My mother said as she jumped out of her chair to shower me with kisses all over my face as only a loving mother could do.

  Clearing his throat my father said, “Congratulazioni, figlio.” (Congratulations, son.)

  Kissing my mother back on her cheek I said, “Grazie mama, grazie poppa” (Thank you mama, thank you poppa).

  “Poppa,” I continued, “I know you are worried and have questions about her. Let me put your mind at ease by telling you that she’s not after my money or your money. She’s not a gold digger by any means. She’s a very normal person who prides herself on working hard and earning her own keep. Spoiling her is hard because she feels like I’m doing too much. Like you, she knows what it’s like to struggle, and she takes nothing for granted. If I had an inkling that she was interested in my money and not me, I would have never pursued her the way I did. She’s a good woman poppa, and you’ll see it for yourself when I bring her by to meet you and the family.”

  A slow smile came across my father’s face. He shook his head and looked at my mother. “Look at him sweetheart. Our son is in love. His eyes light up just talking about her. He never did this when he was with Andrea; that’s how I know this is real. He’s finally found the one,” he said.

  I smiled bashfully at my father’s words. He was right.

  “Oh, I knew my Luca was in love when he stopped coming by as much. Only the love for another woman could keep him away from his mama,” my mother said as she pinched my cheek. Smiling I took her hand and kissed it tenderly.

  “But I always called to check up on you too, mama. No one will keep me completely away from you. You will always be my first love.”

  “Oh, mio ragazzo dolce, come ti amo,” (Oh my sweet boy, how I love you.) my mother said as her eyes got misty with tears of joy.

  “Let’s toast,” my father said as he raised his wine glass. My mother and I did the same.

  “To Luca: May he find never ending happiness, joy and love with Sloane. Salute.”

  “Salute,” my mother and I said in return as we clinked our glasses together and took a sip of our wine. We resumed our dinner as my mother bombarded me with wedding planning questions. Of course, she wasn’t happy that Sloane and I wanted a small wedding instead of the huge traditional Catholic wedding that she was used to. I promised her that we would have a nice Italian reception, and that seemed to please her for the moment. My parents asked about Sloane’s parents, and I gave them a very condensed version of why she’s not close to either one, especially her father.

  “I know for a fact her father will not be there. Sloane wouldn’t want him there. I’m not so sure about her mother. Her two brothers and her sister that lives in Memphis will be there for sure. Her baby brother is in jail, and she doesn’t speak to her oldest sister so….”

  “Oh, that poor child. Well, she will get more than enough love from the Santorini’s, and you be sure to tell her that.” My mother said as she lovingly covered my hand with her warm, soft one.

  “Thank you, mama,” I said appreciatively.

  “I can’t wait to meet her son. I like her already,” my father added.

  “Well, you’ll be meeting her this weekend. I want all the family to be here. They’ll come if you tell them to mama. Let’s have a big Santorini Sunday dinner. How does that sound?” I asked smiling.

  “Magnifico!” my mother said smiling as she clapped her hands together.

  After dinner, I helped my mother clear the table even though she tried to shoo me away many times. My father went outside on the patio to smoke his after dinner cigar, something I hated that he did.

  “Don’t say it,” he warned as he sat in his favorite patio chair watching the sunset.

  “I wasn’t going to say a thing,” I said lying.

  “So why are you afraid to tell me and your mother that Sloane is African American?”

  Of course, my father already knew about Sloane. He didn’t become a successful businessman by sitting around and guessing. When he wanted to know something, he took it upon himself to find out. He had many resources at his disposal, so none of this should surprise me even though it did.

  “You know how your mother gets when she worries. She had her suspicions and she hen-pecked me about it until I promised her that I would look into it. We were just waiting for you to tell us that you’ve met someone,” my father continued.

  Of course, my mother made him look into who or what was occupying my time. She was spoiled with me always coming around, doting on her and spoiling her the way I did. I couldn’t be mad at her. My mother and I have always been close, and now she felt like she was losing me, even though she’ll always be my first favorite girl. Sloane has become my number one favorite girl.

  “I’m not afraid. You know I’ve dated women of other races before, including Andrea, who was half black and half white. I just wanted you and mama to meet her before you formed any opinions; that’s all.”

  “Fair enough, but you know I don’t care, son. Love is love regardless of color. Before we came to America, I thought Italian women were the most beautiful women in the world. Then we came here to America, and I saw so many other beautiful women of different colors and races. Let me just say that if I was still single when I moved here, there’s a very good chance your mother would have been Diahann Carroll or Dorothy Dandridge.”

  My eyes got big at my father’s confession. Who knew he had a thing for chocolate women too?

  “I would have never known pops! I said laughing. “But aren’t Diahann Carroll and Dorothy Dandridge much older than you?” I asked.

  “Not by much,” my father said shrugging his shoulders casually. “I like older women too,” he said before taking another long puff from his cigar. I laughed even more.

  Chapter Twenty-Two -Telling the Paris’

  I was so happy that things went as smoothly as they did for Luca when he told his parents about me and our engagement. Once again, waves of envy flowed over me that he had such loving and understanding parents to share such wonderful news with. The first person I told about our engagement was Angie. I asked her
to meet me for lunch the next day. After we were seated at our table, I held out my hand in front of her. Angie immediately squealed in excitement and jumped out of her chair to hug me. We laughed and squealed together and then the laughter turned into tears.

  We hugged each other so tightly because we both knew how long of a journey it was for both of us to get to this point in our lives, to get to the point where we could let go of the pain and anger and let love in. We allowed pain to have such a powerful chokehold on our lives for so long that we both thought that happiness was an impossible pipe dream. Angie was the first to find out that this wasn’t true when she met and fell in love with Damon. Angie didn’t make things easy for Damon, but he loved her enough and saw the good inside of her to stick with her through it all. He wanted to help her through the pain that she carried for so many years, and that’s what won Angie over. Damon was the first man who didn’t run when he learned of all of Angie’s issues related to her painful past. Now I’ve finally found Luca, or Luca found me. I guess we found each other.

  We knew people in the restaurant were looking at us like we needed to be on meds with our emotional mood swings, but we paid them no attention. We wiped each other’s tears and sat back down, getting our mirrors out of our purses to check our makeup. Once we were satisfied that we still looked good, and our waterproof mascara did its job, Angie leaned on the table and said “I want all the details from start to finish. I want to hear about the sex too because you’re glowing and shining like a giant disco ball,” she had a knowing eyebrow raised and her lips were pressed together. I could do nothing but laugh at how well my best friend knew me.

  Over lunch, I told her everything from start to finish. I didn’t give her too many details about our lovemaking, but she got the gist that it was very hot, intense, and emotional on so many levels. Our bedroom affairs were private and sacred to me, and I will always keep them that way. We ate our food, and the waiter took away our plates. Angie called him back and said, “Can you bring us two apple martinis, please?” Angie asked sweetly.