Bella Cigna

by Wendi Dass

  I was ten years old when I learned about the Enigma machine.

  She stopped and highlighted the word “ten.” Giving her best true-to-Anna mischievous grin, she changed the “ten” to a “six.” Anna wouldn’t mind the embellishment…would she?

  ****

  The following afternoon, Anna hadn’t emerged from her room. Sarah covered for her by telling Sister Maria that Anna “wasn’t feeling well.” She didn’t elaborate, and Sister Maria didn’t probe, but her pursed lips and arched brow evidenced she wasn’t buying the excuse.

  Sarah planned on checking in on Anna after school, but an email from Judy changed her plans. The divorce papers were ready to be signed. So now she sat at her desk, and the electronic document displayed on her laptop. Philip’s ornate signature decorated the top line. The second line, reserved for Sarah, was blank.

  First, Sarah filled in the date—October thirteenth. They’d been married five years, six months, and eleven days—longer if she counted the two years they dated. And this electronic form was how it would end? No hug goodbye. No “we’ll stay friends.” No arrangements for their child.

  Sarah lifted her hands from the keyboard and brushed away tears. The one thing she hoped to take from her marriage was a child. That precious miracle of life that she would have gladly given any percentage of the house for.

  She reached for the touchscreen, to input her electronic signature, but stalled her hand midair. A shiver, emanating from her clenched gut, ran down her arms. Why? Shouldn’t she be elated? Shouldn’t she be glad to move on? To finally be done with Philip Flynn? She could have screamed “I’m free!” at the top of her lungs and at the same time also wanted to crawl into bed. She could have twirled, laughter seizing her gut but also could have cried.

  She leaned back, and Philip’s words echoed in her mind—the words he said the day they first met. Sarah in 3B. How about that dinner? He repeated those words, over and over. The exchange happened in the mail room of their apartment complex. As Sarah’s first time living on her own after college, she’d been leery of talking to unfamiliar men. Even men as attractive as Philip. But he was persistent. Like a relentless melody, he wouldn’t go away. Nearly every day she met him in the mail room.

  “So, how about that date, Sarah in 3B?”

  He asked the same question each time she ran into him. Eventually, Sarah succumbed. As an ache seeped into her chest, Sarah blinked away the memory. She wavered her hand and dropped it. How long would the memories of their marriage last? How long would Philip’s song play in her mind?

  Upstairs, the loose floorboard squeaked. Anna was up, and Whiz-kid wouldn’t take long to figure out what Sarah did. Would she be upset? Grateful? Hopefully, she understood. A genius like Anna didn’t belong at St. Theresa—at least, not in the long term. Anna needed to plan for her future. She needed a change. Oxford would be a change for the better.

  Future. Sarah raised her hand again.

  Change. She signed her name.

  For the better. The cursor hovered over the Save button. Sarah closed her eyes and clicked. Her chest collapsed with a whoosh of breath. She’d done it. Her marriage was over. She’d freed herself from Philip. Forever.

  Upstairs, Anna’s feet thumped lightly.

  Before long, Anna would appear, and she’d demand answers. Sarah picked up her phone, which shook in her quivering hand. Taking a deep breath, she settled herself and sent a quick text to Mom and Meredith.

  —It’s official. The papers are signed—

  Not a minute passed before her phone dinged. Meredith.

  “I take it you got my message.” No point bothering with hello.

  “I hope you’re pulling out the champagne.”

  “Not just yet.”

  “Well, that’s not really why I’m calling. I want details, juicy description, on Eduarrrrdo?”

  Sarah’s heart fluttered, but…she refocused on the screen. Philip Flynn made her blush. Philip Flynn made her knees wobble. Philip Flynn stole her heart.

  “Come on,” Meredith urged. “You saw him, right? What happened?”

  “I saw him. We had a nice time, but…” Sarah sighed. “But isn’t a date too soon? I mean, I literally signed the papers five seconds ago.”

  “Pish. You’re supposed to be having fun. You’re not looking for a relationship.”

  Sarah chewed her lip. Flirting with Eduardo was fun. If they went out to dinner, or took in an opera, or toured an art exhibit, she’d have even more fun. “I guess so.”

  “And sex. When’s the last time you had any? At least that you remember?”

  “Meredith!” Heat burned Sarah’s cheeks.

  “Well? Am I right, or am I right?”

  “I…” For a second, she lost herself in the possibility of waking up in Eduardo’s strong arms, burying her head in his broad chest, and feeling the heat of his body pressed against hers. Warmth blossomed inside her, sending a rush to her chest and belly.

  “Well?”

  Sarah snapped back to the present. “Even if you’re right, I wouldn’t classify our meeting as a date but a lesson.”

  “Come on, Sarah! He’s a man. He won’t teach you Italian without an ulterior motive.”

  She grinned. “He did tell me I looked nice.”

  “See?”

  “And we’re going out—” Sarah bit her lip. “I mean, we’re meeting again Friday.”

  “Like I said, he’s into you.”

  “We’ll see.” But a smile planted itself firmly on Sarah’s face.

  “Be assertive, make sure you…”

  A knock sounded on the door.

  Anna entered. “You finished my application?”

  Sarah froze. “Meredith,” she spoke into the phone, “let me call you back.”

  Clicking off the call, Sarah stared at Anna. Her eyes, no longer shrouded in circles, were wide. Sarah took a deep, low breath. Future. Change. For the better. She only hoped Anna thought applying to Oxford was for the better.

  Chapter 14

  “Do I look okay?” Sarah stood beside Anna just inside the entrance of the school, watching the students hurry to their parents’ cars on a rainy-day Friday pickup. Eduardo wouldn’t be one of the dads in the cars today—at least, he’d better not. He’d bound up the stairs in a few minutes to meet Sarah. This lesson would be their second meeting—a meeting that would hopefully be more than just a lesson in Italian.

  Anna scanned her up and down then unbuttoned the top three buttons on Sarah’s blouse. “There. That’s better.”

  Sarah frowned and re-buttoned one button. Was she really taking Anna’s fashion advice? The girl who wore midriffs and combat boots with mini-skirts? The diamond studs in Anna’s ears glinted. Well, Anna did know how to get a man. That expertise was what today was about.

  Before she could overthink her choice, she undid the button again and stared into the washed-out afternoon. Students huddled under umbrellas, faces buried in ponchos, and made their way to idled cars.

  Anna passed her a bottle of roll-on perfume. “Use this.”

  “This is ridiculous.” Sarah dabbed the perfume on her wrists and neck, but she couldn’t keep from smiling. She welcomed Anna’s help, just as Anna appreciated her help on the Oxford application. In fact, Anna was so thrilled she suggested a visit to Al Forno’s to celebrate.

  “Six years old?” She’d thrown back a beer. “Sarah, you’re such a terrible liar. You really should stick to the Miss By-The-Book act you’ve got going.”

  Sarah had laughed with Anna at that one.

  “Do you want him to want you or not?”

  Anna’s voice brought Sarah back to the present. “Well, yes…and no.” She handed back the perfume. “I don’t want another Marco incident.”

  “Who’s Marco?” Eduardo’s rich voice boomed from the doorway.

  Practically hopping out of her hand-me-down flats, Sarah spun. “Eduardo, where did you come from?”

  “I stopped in to see Sister Maria first.” He thumb
ed over his shoulder.

  Beside her, Anna tapped a foot and cleared her throat.

  Sarah shot her a wide-eyed glare that she hoped Anna read as “Don’t embarrass me.” “This is my friend, Anna. She teaches Upper Maths.”

  Eduardo nodded. “Pleasure to meet you.”

  Grimacing, Sarah held her breath.

  “I’ll let you two have some pri-vac-y.” Anna flashed him a smile.

  Sarah restrained herself from yanking Anna’s spiky hair out by the roots. Her face felt like it would explode. From anger, or lack of air, she wasn’t sure.

  Grinning, Anna strutted down the hall.

  “So…” Eduardo dropped his gaze to Sarah’s exposed neck. “The weather’s too wet to enjoy the park. Shall we grab drinks instead?”

  “Drinks?” She released the stale air with the word. Ben Carter. Marco… I don’t even know his last name. “No.” The word tumbled out of her mouth. A furrowed brow replaced the playfulness in Eduardo’s eyes. “I mean,” Sarah started again, before he could reply, “I try not to drink.” Great. Now he probably thinks I’m a recovering alcoholic.

  Eduardo paused. “Do you want to stay here? Your classroom?”

  If her mouth betrayed her, perhaps she better keep it shut. Sarah shook her head.

  “Okay. How about my office?”

  The offer wasn’t as good as going for drinks, but it certainly beat the risk of having Sister Maria walk in on them unannounced. Sarah nodded.

  As Sarah rode with Eduardo to his office, she regrouped by replaying the advice from Meredith and Anna. Be assertive. Smile. Stick out your chest. Well, maybe not that last part.

  He made small talk with her along the way. How was Lucia doing in her studies? Had Mr. Moretti given her any more trouble? All through his conversation, his hands gripped the wheel so tightly his knuckles were white.

  Eduardo wasn’t his usual happy-go-lucky self. Maybe he was nervous, too? Or maybe he was offended she’d said no to drinks? Sarah sank back in her seat and spent the rest of the ride convincing herself that nerves caused his changed demeanor.

  In the commercial part of town, Eduardo parked the car in front of a three-story building. He led Sarah to a glass door with “Rossini and Associates” etched in frosted letters. Inside, he gave a quick nod to a woman seated behind a reception desk then opened a set of double doors and led Sarah through. “So,” he snapped shut the doors, “I was thinking we could work on verb tenses today.”

  Verb tenses? That certainly wasn’t date-appropriate conversation. “Actually, I was hoping we might…” The words died in her mouth.

  “Yes?” He thrust his left eyebrow above his glasses.

  Sarah opened her mouth, but it felt like one of Anna’s boots was lodged in her throat. So much for being assertive. She forced a smile instead.

  Eduardo grinned.

  But his cheeky smile and raised eyebrow told her he waited for her response. Sarah swallowed hard. “Verb tenses are fine.” Then, as casually as she could, she pressed out her chest.

  Eduardo’s gaze drifted downward, but he quickly snapped it back. He pulled at his collar. “I’ll get us some water.”

  His voice pitched more to a tenor, and he smirked. At least she could smile and push out her boobs. Sarah took the chance to examine the office. Spacious and uncluttered, the room was furnished with the executive desk, armchairs, and file cabinets one would expect in a lawyer’s office. But her gaze was drawn to the Renaissance art that hung on the walls: Da Vinci’s Vitruvian Man, Botticelli’s The Birth of Venus, and Michelangelo’s The Creation of Adam.

  Sarah stepped to the far side of the room. A small metal frame encapsulated a paper CD insert featuring the faces of Luciano Pavarotti and Joan Sutherland—Verdi’s La Traviata. The tattered edges of the insert weren’t just a sign of its age, but of the owner’s affection and respect for the music it contained. “You really are an opera fan.” Sarah’s words slipped out in a whisper.

  “Yes.”

  His warm breath tickled her hair. She’d been so engrossed in the wall-hangings, she hadn’t noticed him return. Sarah turned and was caught in his gaze. The room was so quiet Sarah could faintly hear the receptionist typing outside and could faintly hear Eduardo’s quickened breath. Lost in his deep, steady stare, she knew their meeting was so much more than just an Italian lesson.

  Eduardo cleared his throat. “Who doesn’t love Verdi?” He handed her a glass of water.

  Sarah cocked an eyebrow. “I’m partial to Puccini myself.”

  He narrowed his eyes. “Let me guess. Your favorite is Bohème? That’s everyone’s favorite.”

  Ha! But she wasn’t everyone, was she? Sarah shook her head.

  “No? Butterfly then?”

  Shaking her head, Sarah stood tall, and a small smile crept to her lips.

  He rubbed his chin. “Aha! Tosca. It must be Tosca.”

  Her smile widening, Sarah nodded.

  He studied her. “So, you really are an artist, aren’t you?”

  “I would say that’s a subjective term.”

  Laughing, Eduardo led her to the armchairs.

  The chairs were positioned close together so that her knee brushed his, but Sarah made no attempt reposition herself—and neither did he. She smiled and delved into conversation that would be far too frou-frou for most. But for Sarah, their exchange was like enjoying a warm cookie and a cup of hot tea. She debated over the contributions of Verdi and Puccini. She bragged she saw the most Vermeers. Sarah joked Anna could tell them all the mathematical principles in Da Vinci’s artwork. And not a single word was exchanged in Italian.

  Two hours later, the clock on the desk chimed six times, and Sarah was eager to talk more. She cupped her face in her hands and leaned forward until her elbows touched her knees. “Why opera?”

  “My mother.” Eduardo set his cup on the desk, leaned back, and stretched out his arms and legs. “She was an aspiring opera singer. Probably would have been more successful if she didn’t smoke. She introduced me…”

  Sarah’s phone dinged three times in her pocket, and she missed the rest of Eduardo’s sentence. Oh no. Her alarm for hall duty. How had she forgotten? How had Anna forgotten? Her stomach clenched. If she didn’t get back soon, Sister Maria would be looking for her. And who knew what punishment might be in store if she couldn’t be found. She placed a hand on his sleeve. “Eduardo?”

  “Hmm?” He put his hand on top of hers.

  His touch was warm and soft, covering her fingers like a blanket. His thumb stroked the back of her hand.

  On the desk, his empty glass blurred the hands of the clock. Sarah didn’t move—couldn’t move. Every muscle in her body clamped down like a fist. Was she nervous? Was she excited? Or was she afraid she’d rip off his super-hero glasses and throw herself on top of him?

  Eduardo dropped her hand. “I’m sorry.” He shifted his knees from hers, striking his right on the edge of the desk. He rubbed it as he stood. “I didn’t mean to—”

  “No.” Sarah jumped to her feet. “Please don’t be sorry. I…I…” She scrambled for an explanation. “I forgot I have to work tonight.”

  Eduardo retreated behind his desk. His gaze flitted from his feet to the clock, from the files on his desk to the Traviata jacket on the wall—anywhere but to her. “It’s okay.” He shoved files into a briefcase. “I have a lot of work to do myself.”

  The car ride back was quiet—too quiet. The wiper swooshed across the windshield like a whipping flag. The heater hummed. The tires splashed. Silence stifled the air like the thick mist outside. Sarah slumped in her seat. If only she had a few more minutes with him in his office. Not even flashing her boobs could save this date.

  As the car pulled up to the school, the tires sloshed in puddled water. The gate, courtyard, and dorm blurred and melded into one.

  Eduardo turned off the ignition, and rain drizzled on the windshield. “I’ll walk you in.” He didn’t offer his hand.

  Fog lingered at Sarah’s fee
t and climbed the fountain at the center of the courtyard. Specks of stone façade peeked through the mist, but the buildings were otherwise hidden. Chatter echoed in the mist; dinner was over. The girls would come back any minute.

  Moisture covered Eduardo’s glasses and masked his eyes.

  What emotion was hidden behind? Frustration? Embarrassment? Disappointment? She stepped toward him. “Thank you so much for this afternoon. I really enjoyed our talk.”

  “Yes.” Eduardo shifted on his feet. “You should get inside before you catch cold.” He removed his glasses and brought them to his sleeve.

  Sarah grabbed his hand. His skin was cool and slick. She took his glasses from him and cleaned them on the edge of her blouse. When she placed them back in his hand, she let her fingers rest on his—white on tan on black.

  “Thank you.”

  His husky voice sent a shiver down her spine. Sarah lifted her gaze. His eyes, unmasked by both moisture and lenses, were rich and chocolatey. She tightened her fingers around his. “You’re welcome.”

  Voices erupted behind him, and Sarah peered through the fog. Flora, Natalia, and a handful of upper-school girls emerged from the mist. Behind them strode a towering figure in black, Sister Maria.

  Sarah released Eduardo’s hand. “I’m sorry, but I have to go.”

  “But—” He bobbled his glasses, nearly dropping them.

  “I can’t stay.” She raced to the dorm. In her room, she stripped out of her wet clothes and squeezed into her favorite jeans. She groaned. God, she royally screwed up this date. What would she say to Meredith? To Anna? He asked me out to drinks, but I acted like I was in rehab. We had a great conversation, even held hands but… She wiggled her fingers in the light of the desk lamp. His touch was so warm, so gentle, and so sincere. And she…she responded like she’d been just offered a pap smear.

  A knock sounded on the door, and Sarah dropped her hand. What did Sister Maria want now? Another lecture? Was Sarah spending too much time away from school? Or was she in trouble for missing dinner? Was there a rule about that now, too? “Un momento.” Sarah yanked a T-shirt out of her dresser and slipped it on. If it weren’t for Sister Maria and her stupid rules, I might be spooning with Eduardo right now.