ATONEMENT (Alfonzo)

by Frank, S. W.

  His soul extended across the seas reaching for solace, “They’re fine, babe, I just wanted to hear you.”

  “Did something happen, are you okay?”

  “I’m missing you, amor.”

  “I miss you, too.”

  “I really miss you…so…so…bad.” He replied. The hint of desolation exposed, but she missed it and moved mechanically through the conversation without addressing it.

  “I’ll see you soon enough.”

  The words were right, yet he detected a change in modulation, her voice lacked something…what was it? He searched his brain to think. Then he frowned, it lacked warmth. “Okay, sure.”

  “Love you.”

  “Love you too, babe.”

  Their conversation lasted under two minutes, had she lingered perhaps he would have told her more. Instead, he gathered his wounded ego, put his cell in his pocket and headed out the office door.

  “Hey, ready to go finally?” Came Vincent’s inquiry as he placed down the girlie magazine and rose from his seat in the receptionist area.

  “Yeah.”

  Alfonzo punched the button on the elevator and when it opened and they were descending to the lobby he turned to Vincent, “Take the evening off Vin, I have something personal I need to do.”

  Vincent nodded. “Yeah, okay.” He scoffed, like he’d really leave Alfonzo without protection. If he had to take care of ‘needs’ then fine, but he must be crazy to think Vincent would follow his order.

  Alfonzo started walking in the opposite direction of the car. He strolled past the shops and cursed when he realized Vincent tailed him. ‘Fucking guy never listens!’

  He entered the Spanish Restaurant, one he’d visited many times because the food was so delicious. He scanned the place for the pretty hostess who’d flirted with him each time he came. She’d given him her number on a napkin but he discarded it, at the time he wasn’t interested. Today was different. Not that he was looking for a relationship, far from it. He wanted sex…not with a random stranger or a prostitute. No, someone he somewhat liked. Someone with a bubbly personality, to lift him out of his black mood, someone with sparkly eyes, like his wife.

  The pretty waitress was cleaning tables, she saw him and hurried over, cloth in hand. Her eyes were dazzling, more brilliant than her smile. Her black wavy hair was pulled into a ponytail. Selange wore her hair like that whenever she exercised or cooked or swam. They were different, he knew that, but if he were going to fuck somebody why not a look-alike.

  “Hola, Sonia, getting off soon?”

  “Five minutes, por qué?”

  She was close to him, looking up. Her hair smelled like the grease from the kitchen, Selange’s like cinnamon. He also noticed she was much shorter than his wife, her breasts smaller and her hips narrow, almost boyish. Selange’s hips were curvaceous, unmistakably feminine. His wife oozed sensuality. Sonia did not; she was pretty, his wife was striking. He chastised himself for the constant comparison and for considering cheating but he was lonely and wanted female companionship.

  Maybe, he’d just take her out for a drink instead. They could talk and he’d see where it led. If they clicked maybe he’d consider the fucking part. “Have a drink with me,” he grinned, when she beamed excitedly he added, “and dinner if you’re hungry. Let someone wait on you for a change, how about it?”

  Sonia smiled, “Tu esposa, how will she feel about it?”

  Alfonzo’s grin widened, “Isn’t it how you’ll feel about it that matters?”

  The double-entendré brought a knowing smile to Sonia’s lips. Alfonzo hadn’t lost his touch with the ladies. She scurried to clock out then joined him for dinner and several drinks. During the evening he found the conversation wasn’t particularly stimulating or partially substantive. He learned she lived alone, had no interest in going to college, liked her waitressing job because she got big tips, she’d done some modeling, swim-suits mainly, her hobby consisted of going to clubs and partying with friends. Party-girl, social-diva is actually how she described herself. He drank too much, while listening to her talk about herself. Funny, he thought, eight years ago he might have thought her hot and interesting. She did have nice eyes, though. He focused his attention there, “Where do you live?”

  “On Cinco calle.”

  Convenient, a nice stroll of three blocks. “Let me walk you home.”

  “Sure.”

  The upscale restaurant not only served great food, but also complimentary condoms in the men’s restroom. He’d grabbed a few from the ornate soap dish, just in case!

  ***

  Sonia’s one bedroom apartment was cramped, filled with bulky furnishings more suitable for a house. He sat on the floral sofa. It was comfortable and he sort of sank there like a marshmallow, watching through sleepy eyes as she excused herself and went to the bathroom. He tried calling forth the old Alfonzo, the one who’d slept with countless women, stayed detached and split immediately after the sexual act. Strange, he didn’t emerge and what’s more strange was the enormous guilt he experienced being there. He thought to leave but he was beat. His head fell backward on the cozy little couch and Alfonzo conked out.

  A buzzing against his thigh brought him awake. Groggily, his eyes tried to focus and he cleared his throat while reaching for the pesky metal bee inside his pant pocket.

  “Um, yeah…what?” He asked as he tried clearing the fog of sleep from his brain.

  “Hun, is everything okay, I called the house and Anita said you hadn’t come home and weren’t answering your cell, what happened?”

  He was fully awake, now. Hell, he wiped his eyes, noticed he wasn’t home and stood, “Yeah…yeah…I’m good. I fell asleep at the office…”

  “Bueno you’re up. I’m making French toast, you want some?” Sonia shouted from an adjoining room.

  Alfonzo froze.

  ‘I’m busted!’

  Silence ensued; a very long uncomfortable nothingness. He didn’t say a word and Sonia stepped from behind the petition wall with a whisk in her hand, saw him on the phone, grimaced then mouthed ‘sorry’ before tip-toeing away.

  Alfonzo’s face drew tight. He might’ve lied his way out of this had it not been for Sonia’s interruption but presently he was in no position to do anything except deal with the aftermath.

  Selange’s composure made him flinch, “Okay…go eat breakfast with your girlfriend and tell her your wife said thanks for feeding you. Bye!”

  That was it, an anti-climactic and sarcastic response then she hung up.

  He considered calling Selange back then changed his mind. He got busted in a lie, plain and simple. He had no justification or excuses for it. Besides, she was probably furious and who wouldn’t be. First, he had to get home, say good-morning to the children, change clothes then make an appearance at a shareholder’s meeting. Later, he’d call Selange, maybe then she’d listen to his dumb explanation, because seriously that’s what it was, D-U-M-B!

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  Lucia and Crystalia were at the dining table, whispering conspiratorially when Selange came down for breakfast. The pretty redhead spoke but Lucia said nothing. Without a care, Selange skipped around the table, lifting fruit and a roll from the breakfast tray. She stacked them on her plate.

  “I slept like a baby last night,” Crystalia announced.

  Tia entered with coffee and juice, sat them down then vanished.

  “So did I.” Selange smiled devilishly plucking a strawberry in her mouth. She chewed, “Ummm, did anyone hear a loud scream, I wonder what happened?”

  This set Lucia off, “American beech!”

  “It’s bitch, rhymes with stitch.”

  Renalda and Kim-Sung floated in.

  “Oooh, you think I will not hit you, eh because you are Alfonzo’s wife, eh?”

  Marcella appeared suddenly, “Lucia, shut-up!”

  “No, she put worms on my bed. The whore!”

  Another strawberry was devoured, “Call me that one more time and I’
ll deliver on my promise.”

  “Oooh, beech. Go to America!” Lucia fumed then stormed from the table in an impotent rage.

  The others were laughing except for Renalda. “We should not fight each other. I am sorry, Selange for scaring you. It was not nice. Forgive me.”

  The apology seemed sincere, but then again, Selange didn’t really know the women. Besides, it was easy to unleash her anger on the women because they were here and Alfonzo was not. Nerve, of him…how dare he confess how much he missed her then run straight to another woman’s bed?

  Ooooh, she was so angry at him but wondered if she had a right to be. After-all she was the one possibly carrying another man’s child and trying to seduce Nico.

  “Some of us are going to the salon are you coming today?” Renalda asked.

  “No, I’d like to see the countryside, maybe next time.”

  Marcella was sitting with her coffee, “The wedding is soon. It is going to be bellissimo!”

  They began to chatter excitedly, Selange found herself joining in. Happiness was contagious. Every time Crystalia asked a question about the location, Marcella shot her a murderous glance and she fell silent..

  Amelda and Sophie were out early she was told, on a mother-daughter errand. The women were free to do as they pleased. The gap in the itinerary allowed for private time.

  Selange was the only one who passed on the salon, she wasn’t in the mood for small-talk and the women talked a lot. She might get whiplash from it. Instead, she dressed comfortably and decided to visit one of the olive gardens she’d seen during the drive yesterday. It didn’t seem far, besides walking was a great form of exercise.

  At the exit to the property she was halted, “Excusi, you cannot go off the grounds without an escort.” A guard informed her when she got to the gate.

  A car rolled on side of Selange before she could respond. She turned and saw Nico.

  “It’s alright, she’ll be with me.” He frowned at her, “Get in.”

  The minute she slammed the door shut, the gates opened and he drove to freedom. “Where the hell were you going without me?”

  “To the olive garden.”

  “Alone?”

  “Geez, of course.”

  He shook his head, “Selange, seriously you know better.”

  She ignored him. Matter-of-fact, she pretended he wasn’t there when they reached the garden. Even when she entered the store off to the side and she purchased bottles of the pure olive oil to take home and she chatted with the farmer without his assistance. She did all this without acknowledging his presence and did quite splendidly. Until, Nico chuckled as he shadowed her and she stopped to find out the source of his laughter.

  “What’s funny?”

  “Pagliaccio means buffoon. You told the man have a nice buffoon. Pomeriggio is the word for afternoon, woman.”

  Selange was horrified, “Why didn’t you correct me, you let me make an ass out of myself on purpose, didn’t you?”

  “Stop pouting, he’ll get over it.”

  She punched him and he grinned, “Your temper’s showing.”

  “Oh, I think you’ve seen what happens when I really want to hurt someone.”

  His grin widened, “That I have.”

  She stopped as he held open the car door, turned to face him and asked, “Can we go somewhere private and talk?”

  “You’re ready to talk to me, now?”

  “Yes, I am.”

  Later, they were back at Nico’s hide-away. She sat cross-legged in front of the fireplace and Nico reclined on his side, propped up on an elbow, listening.

  “I’m not telling Alfonzo about us.”

  He kept quiet. She wasn’t finished, yet.

  “Nico, I love him. I don’t want to crush him. If I tell him about us then he’ll question the baby and might get angry not knowing if it’s his or not.”

  Nico scoffed, “Of course, he’ll get angry.”

  “Nico, if this child is yours, I promise to tell you.”

  “That’s admirable.” He commented sarcastically.

  “And we’ll arrange some way for you to visit, we’ll figure it out.”

  “What’s to figure out? If I’m the father, I get to see my kid.”

  Her hazel eyes came to rest on his face, “Nico, I don’t want anything to happen to you. I don’t think Alfonzo will stick around if he knows this isn’t his child and he might do something to you. Are you really willing to destroy him or get killed?”

  He thought about it. He wasn’t concerned about getting killed for one thing and secondly, he wasn’t deliberately trying to hurt Alfonzo. He only wanted to see his child, from time to time. “I can handle your husband don’t concern yourself with that.”

  “You wouldn’t kill him. You love him, like a brother we both know it. I just want a chance to save my marriage.”

  He found her amazing. “And I want a promise.”

  “Okay.”

  “My kid, you tell me that’s all the promise I want from you.”

  “Okay, promise.”

  “And if it doesn’t work out with Alfonzo then what?”

  “I go on.”

  “And us, now?”

  “You said it yourself you were a horrible husband, so it only leaves one other option.”

  “Which is?”

  “I fell in love with you and I don’t know when it happened but it did and it’s hurting me because I love my husband just as much and…” her long lashes covered her eyes as she looked down sadly, “this is me with my eyes open.” She found the courage to look directly into his dark pupils. “Have you ever tried to hold onto the wind, Nico?”

  He was amused, “You read too much poetry beautiful.”

  “Well, you’re similar to the wind. I need you but I can’t keep you, you’re not meant to be kept, does that make any sense?”

  His amusement faded, “Your metaphor is weak. I’m not the wind, I’m flesh and blood not some translucent form of matter.”

  “You’re both made up of matter. In Hinduism all creations are made up of matter, including the human body.” She smiled, “I know, too deep.”

  “You’re deep, it’s what I love about you.”

  The words were said and her hands were on his broad shoulders, feeling the strength of him, wanting him. “I don’t want to let you go. I’m being selfish, but I want the now with you. I want you in my life. Be my lover Nico, let’s live in the now. I don’t care how short it is, I’ll take it just to be with you, I swear if it’s your child I’ll love him and keep him safe and when the time comes, he’ll know who you are. I promise. I’ll do anything you ask as long as you love me, now!”

  His teeth flashed. They were sparkly, evenly aligned pearls, “We can make as many now’s as you want and I’ll hold you to that promise.”

  “I know,” she said grappling with his belt buckle, eager to consummate their agreement.

  He helped her by stripping hastily out of his clothes then undressed her with equally hurried hands. He caressed the hourglass silhouette, smiling at how her skin glowed beneath the artificial light. He answered her need with a kiss, seeking to ward off ‘now’s’ demise. He kissed her thighs, caressed the subtle slope of her belly, connecting to the life growing there, smiling and loving her more. She breathed heavily, excited by his touch, grabbing impatiently at his shoulders, sliding her fingers through his rich black hair, wanting him so bad she cried as he orally gave her pleasure.

  In time his own desire peaked and he was atop her, penetrating with care the cavernous depths where life blossomed. She gripped his waist and a soft whimper of joy escaped. His hands held the sides of her face, their eyes met and what they both coveted granted. She welcomed him into the moist folds of her flesh with a seductive smile of familiarity. His eyes closed briefly as she caressed his shoulders and he questioned his selfish soul. He would do whatever she asked for this small piece of happiness. Yes, loving her was ecstasy and she was wrong about one thing, he would not hesitat
e to hurt Alfonzo if he ever harmed her, brother in spirit or not.

  He swelled inside of her as the viscous juices of want clung to him. Her desire could not be hidden and spoke its truth. It craved him fiendishly and clamped him like a vice. If this were a sign, then the possibility of this child being his was a certainty. The thought brought a selfish elation. He’d always be a part of her that way and their child would be the product of their ardent love, the strongest kind between lovers.

  He was in such need, he suckled her lips, her throat, her breasts and grinned at the vanilla-cinnamon taste of her body. He squeezed her buttocks, rolling them around to meet his thrusts, taking without guilt what she eagerly gave. The responsive gyrations of her hips told him they were both in the throes of a fiery passion. Selange made her choice; she was not asleep or in the fits of a dream. She could have chosen another path; instead she entered a course leading to temptation. One night of indiscretion brought them here and they would journey the road together. Nico became her lover, their lustful chemistry was too strong and it required constant fulfillment. The natural attraction of their bodies resulted in an explosion upon fusion. Their crime was desire and to slow it required a neutral agent or some form of interference for it to burn out.

  The first time he touched her naked flesh, it was evident they were destined to become lovers, she hadn’t known it then but he had, and tried to stay away. He tried so hard to kill the want of the woman beneath him and the want grew like vines on stone until it covered him fully. She loved Alfonzo, but desired Nico. The workings of the mind and body are contrary at times. Initially, Nico represented an unfulfilled fantasy –but now she wanted him in the waking hours. An enforcer as a lover is a dangerous man to bed, especially being the wife of a Mafia Don with killers at his command, but she disregarded these facts and committed her body to another. Nico would love her, do anything she wanted, protect her with his life, but if it turned badly and Alfonzo harmed her in any way, blood would geyser from him like a waterfall.

  His hands caressed her face, wanting to always remember her this way and hurt this way because the stolen now’s were all there were unless she requested more. He’d give her more; all she needed to do was ask.