I wander around in awe of how a place like this can even exist. And for the first time, I consider that if Venice can survive thousands of years of floods, maybe I can beat this disease. Sure, the odds are against me, but it could happen.
If I could seduce a man like Angelo, I’m a lot more capable than I give myself credit for. No. I’m not. This is me we’re talking about. I am not a lucky woman. I’m going to die, and worst of all, I’m never going to see him again. But, I’m not here to focus on the negative. Have a good time, good time! Oh Freddie, you rascal!
I find a crowded restaurant and order a pizza. I devour every slice—it’s amazing! Very different, but really good. This is not the kind of thing that gets delivered to your door. I wash it down with wine. I want more limoncello, too, but I decide to hold off for now.
I find a bakery and just buy everything that looks delicious. I’m pretty sure I’ve already consumed about 5,000 calories today, but who’s counting? I sit by the window, content to eat every bite of a rich and sugary tiramisu. There’s a decent amount of booze in it and some kind of chocolate pebbles.
When I get back to my hotel room at the end of the night, I realize I have six days left here. But the thrill is fading fast. It’s not that Italy isn’t everything I’d hoped it be. It’s just that I feel so lonely.
What’s the use in having all of these great experiences if I don’t have someone to share them with? And I realize that was another part of Angelo’s appeal. I mean, we tried all sorts of things together. That’s what made it so wonderful.
I turn on the TV and stare at the screen. I ate way too much today, and I know I’ll do exactly the same thing tomorrow. I guess that’s about all I have to look forward to is food, since sex is off the menu.
If I was feeling really adventurous, I would hire an escort. But I don’t want a stranger’s touch. There’s only one man whom I long to hold, and he probably hasn’t given me a second thought since I ghosted him.
I pick up my phone, contemplating if I should send him a text. What time is it back home anyhow? I forget. No. This is a terrible idea. If anything, I should talk to Angelo face-to-face.
But maybe that’s an even worse idea. I wouldn’t even know where to start. I really fucked up this time. And I’m going to die all alone. Not exactly alone, since Zoe will be there, but I’m going to leave this life without ever really knowing true love.
Tears fill my eyes. The sadness comes over me like a storm. Here I am crying my eyes out on foreign soil. I am so pathetic that I can’t even enjoy this. I’m strongly considering locking myself in this room and just ordering room service until it’s time to head home.
Chapter Seventeen
I spend the next few days stuffing my face with every type of pasta known to man. I don’t really feel up to sightseeing. I’m just counting down the days until I leave.
In the evenings, I drown my sorrows in limoncello and top it off with fattening desserts. Some of the clothes in the fashion district don’t fit the same anymore. How much weight have I gained? I should detox now.
But the timing is all wrong. If I don’t have Angelo to comfort me, delicious food is a distant second choice. I find myself re-reading our old text messages a lot.
Maybe Zoe is right. Maybe I should just reach out to him. But I can think of a zillion things that could go wrong. For all I know, he’ll ignore my calls and texts, too, and give me a taste of my own medicine.
Speaking of medicine … I’ve been taking over the counter migraine stuff for a while now. I know you’re not supposed to drink alcohol because of side effects, but who gives a fuck at this point? Side effects my ass. There’s no way I’m leaving this planet sober.
I’m in my hotel room, looking out at the gorgeous view. I pour myself a glass of wine. I’ve been guzzling this stuff like water. I’ve come a long way from my two drink limit.
There’s not much left of the old Cathy. She’s gone for good. And pretty soon, the rest of me will be to. I need to stop thinking about Angelo and start early preparations for my funeral while I’m still of sound mind…whatever that is.
Am I of sound mind? That’s always up for debate these days, especially according to Zoe. I swallow the rest of my wine. I realize I haven’t been outside all day. This is my last night in Italy. I should really venture out, just for the hell of it.
I put on my jeans and brush my hair into a ponytail. I don’t feel like bothering with makeup. I put on a t-shirt and head for the door. The sun is setting as I walk outside.
The orange sky looks breathtaking. If I wasn’t half-drunk, I’d pull out my cell phone and snap a picture. But right now, I just need to focus on walking in a straight line. And where do I end up? The closest bar of course!
I grab a seat on one of the old fashioned stools. The place is packed with tourists. I can tell because of the shoes. Italian people tend to wear stylish shoes, and you’d be hard pressed to find them in sneakers. There are wall-to-wall Reeboks and Nikes in here.
The bartender approaches me. He’s a good looking guy with way too much gel in his jet black hair. He grins.
“Hello, what can I get for you?”
I try not to slur my words.
“White wine … please.”
“Okay.”
He pours my glass. I pay him, and I have to remind myself not to tip. Apparently, people who work in the service industry over here make a living wage, unlike back in the States. I sip the wine. It’s cold and tasty, but I could use something much stronger.
“Is this seat taken?”
I hear a man’s Australian accent. I turn around, and I’m face to face with a short guy with freckles and bleach blonde hair. He seems like a decent looking guy—must be the wine talking.
“No.”
“Do you mind?”
“Go right ahead.”
He sits on the stool next to me. There’s an awkward pause. I can tell he wants to talk but I don’t really feel up to it. I just sip my wine in silence. Then I remember Zoe told me once that when a stranger sits down next to you, a good way to freak them out is to stare straight ahead and say…
“Did you bring the money?
“Excuse me?”
“The money. Did you bring it?” I bite down those words for emphasis.
“Sorry, I think you’ve got the idea, I’m just—” He’s going to shit himself.
“Relax. I’m kidding. Sorry, bad joke.”
He laughs a laugh of sheer relief. “The name’s Jude, like Jude Law. But he’s not quite as handsome as I am... That was supposed to be a joke.”
“Oh.”
“May I ask your name?”
“Cathy.”
“Nice to meet you.”
Damn, I miss Angelo so much. This guy has no game whatsoever. But I’m sort of lonely, so I’m willing to chat for a bit.
“Are you here on vacation?”
I nod.
“Me too. I take every opportunity I can to travel.”
He waves to get the bartender’s attention.
“Can I get a beer, mate. And how about a refill for the lady?”
I smile. “I haven’t even finished this one yet.”
“At the rate you’re going, you’ll be there in no time at all.”
The bartender pours the drinks and Jude pays him.
“Can I propose a toast?”
“Sure. Why not?”
“To new friends!”
I touch my glass to his, and we drink up.
“You’re very beautiful, by the way.”
I am? I think I look like shit today. This guy must be pretty desperate. Where is Angelo when I need him? I need to get the fuck out of here.
“I’m sorry, it was nice meeting you, but I have to go.”
“Already?”
I stand up and grab my purse.
“Can I possibly get your email, so we can keep in touch?”
“I’m afraid not. I have a boyfriend.”
“Oh. Well, it was nice to meet you
, Cathy.”
“Same here, Jude, like Jude Law.”
He flashes a quick smile and turns his attention back to his beer. I make a beeline for the door. It’s official. I’m done with this shit. Angelo is the only man I want in the world, and now that I’ve finally traveled abroad I’m more sure of that than ever.
Back in the hotel room, I carefully pack my oversized suitcase. Then, I climb into bed. I fall asleep looking at old messages from Angelo. I can’t stand another second apart from him.
***
I’m at the airport early. The first class flight home is smooth. Very long. But the unlimited, free drinks make it bearable. The plane touches down at just after 6:40pm.
Zoe offered to pick me up from the airport, but I told her that I would get a cab. I know she has yoga tonight, and if she misses it, her Zen will be thrown off balance. Besides, we’ll have plenty of time to catch up later.
Well, maybe not plenty of time, my days are numbered after all. I try not to think about that as I stand at the baggage claim. When my suitcase appears on the conveyor belt, it takes every ounce of strength in my body for me to snatch it. It’s as heavy as … well, something really heavy!
I spent way too much money on clothes and trinkets over in Italy. And not to mention food and booze! I just hope I have enough cash left over to pay my rent this month. But the bright side is that by the time my eviction notice moves through court, it probably won’t be much of a problem. What the fuck could they do to me? I once met a guy who said that saving money is for chumps because you can’t take it with you. He said he wanted his last check to bounce! I’m beginning to see the wisdom in that.
Outside, I hail a cab. The driver is a middle aged woman with thick glasses. When she lifts up my suitcase to put it in the trunk, she smiles.
“Jesus! You got a body in here?”
“Shhh. Don’t tell anyone.”
She laughs and gets behind the wheel. Then, she presses the button to start the meter. It’s been a long time since I’ve been in a real taxi. I kinda miss the experience, especially the separation of the glass.
“Where’re we headed?”
I hesitate. I’m exhausted. I really should just go home. But that’s the last place I want to go. I’ve waited too long to see him. I blurt out Angelo’s address.
She pulls out of the airport traffic. My heart is beating out of my chest. This is crazy, I’m about to show up to his place unannounced. What if he’s not even home? That would be just my luck.
But it’s Monday night. There’s a good chance he’s there. And maybe there’s even a chance that we can pick up where we left off. I have to tell him the truth about my condition.
I don’t know how he’s going to take it. But at least he’ll understand why I haven’t been in touch. I’ll be honest with him. I’ll be vulnerable. I’ll be everything the old Cathy never was.
The way I feel right now, I’m already having second thoughts. I should just go home. I should wait. But my heart won’t let me. It’s like there’s something that’s pulling me to Angelo.
And the truth is that it never went away. I didn’t even know it was possible to fall so hard for someone. This is so wild.
I pull out my compact mirror and smooth my hair. I pop a few mints into my mouth. I hope I look halfway decent. I know I’ve put on a couple of pounds since he last saw me, but I doubt he’ll care.
Angelo never made me feel self-conscious. He always made me feel so desired, as if I was the sexiest woman alive. And the way he held me and looked into my eyes, it was magic every single time. I miss all of it.
I’m more than willing to take this chance and put myself out there. And so what if I don’t have but a few months to live? Let me have the fucking time of my life until that day comes. Maybe we can even go skydiving again.
The cab turns the corner down Angelo’s street. Oh God. We’re almost here. I can barely contain myself. I try to focus on not hyperventilating, but I don’t think it’s working because the driver is staring at me through the rearview mirror.
“Right there.”
I point to his building. Okay. Here goes. I’m actually about to do this. The cab pulls up to the curb. I toss two more mints into my mouth. I want to kiss him right away.
The front door to his townhouse swings open. Angelo walks outside with a petite brunette. They are laughing together. They look so fucking happy.
“That’ll be $23.10.”
I blink hard to make sure that I’m not seeing things. No. It’s real. Angelo has a new woman in his life. I never dreamed he could move on from me so fast. But then again, it’s been a month and it’s not like we were ever officially in a relationship.
Tears stream down my face. I turn away from them. If I watch one more second of this, I’ll probably die right in the back seat of this taxi.
“Miss? I said it’s $23.10.”
“No!”
“I beg your pardon?”
“I need you to take me somewhere else. Anywhere else.”
She presses the button to restart the meter.
“Okay.”
I sob into my hands.
“Honey? What’s the matter? Was that your boyfriend or something?”
“He … he should have been.”
“Oh. I’m sorry. Men can be dicks.”
“No, I’m the one who fucked up.”
“Don’t worry about it. There’s plenty of fish. In fact that’s even a dating app. You ought to download that.”
I shake my head. I don’t want any damn dating apps. I don’t want any Judes (like Jude Law). I don’t want any Ronnys flipping burgers. I don’t want anyone but Angelo.
And it’s my fault that I can’t have him. I shut him out of my life! I guess I deserve to be heartbroken. It didn’t have to happen this way. For once, I should have listened to Zoe.
“How long do you wanna drive around for?”
I look out the window and realize that we’ve been driving for a while and we’re now in the sketchiest neighborhood in town. Nothing but druggies, and prostitutes, and liquor stores. Maybe we should get out of here.
Whatever happens to me couldn’t possibly be worse than losing Angelo for good. Even if I get turned out by some pimp with gaudy clothes and a diamond pinky ring. Even if the police find my body behind a dumpster, as long as it’s not the Burger City dumpster.
I blow my nose and try to gather my composure. Somehow, I manage to yell out my address. The driver nods and speeds past a group of hookers standing on the corner.
Back in my condo, I collapse on the couch and continue my crying spell. I’m a slobbering mess. I can’t stop thinking about Angelo, but there’s no way I can call him now.
As awful as it was, it could have been so much worse. I’m so glad he didn’t see me. But then again, he was so focused on that woman, that I doubt he would have even seen a purple sasquatch standing a few feet away.
I wonder how long he’s been dating her. Is it just a fling? Or is it serious? Is she his rebound chick from me? I’m a little flattered at the thought.
That doesn’t make this any less painful. My God. I thought that Angelo and I had a real connection. Sure, I haven’t spoken to him in weeks, and I ignored him altogether. But that doesn’t give him the right to start seeing that random woman! Hell no!
He should have waited for me. I was going to come around eventually. Okay. Maybe I’m being a little bit unfair. I try to put myself in his shoes for a second.
What if Angelo disappeared from my life out of nowhere? What would I have done? If it wasn’t for my small measure of pride, I probably would have resorted to stalking. Otherwise, I guess I would have moved on too.
I take a deep breath, realizing that I totally blew it. And there’s no fixing this. I had prepared myself to beg for his forgiveness. I had even prepared for him to turn me down. But the thought of him with another woman didn’t even cross my mind.
And that’s so fucking stupid! Angelo is really hot! That face and that b
ody scream pussy magnet. Not to mention his personality. On top of all that, the man has a beautiful soul. He’s the total package. Why should he hold back waiting for me?
It’s not like I’m super model beautiful or extraordinarily charming. I take neurosis to new heights. And I can be passive aggressive. Although, I admit, I do have nice eyes. But is that enough for a man of Angelo’s caliber?
I don’t feel like unpacking tonight. Part of me just wants to get on another plane and go far, far away all over again. I know I won’t be missed by anyone except for Zoe.
I take a shower. I stand there underneath the running water in tears. I feel like such a fucking cliché that I can’t help but laugh a little. And that gives way to even more sobbing.
I step out and look at my reflection. My face is pink. My eyes are swollen. And this is just day one of my new reality. For once, I can honestly say, that I’m looking forward to not being around if every day is going to be hell like this.
Chapter Eighteen
I wake up with a migraine. Every step is torture as I make my way to the bathroom. I scramble for the pills in the medicine cabinet and down them with a glass of water.
I stare at my reflection. I look tired. And I know it’s not just because of the jetlag. I could barely sleep … thoughts of Angelo kept flooding my mind. Not just him. The mystery woman he was with.
Is she prettier than me? Check! Is she better than me in bed? I’m sure the answer is yes. There are probably virgins that can screw better than I can.
I really wish I had some limoncello right now, but all I have is scotch. Sounds like the perfect breakfast to me. I head to the kitchen and open the cabinet. Damn it! It’s empty.
I toss the bottle in the recycle bin. I feel the tears coming on. Can’t I just hurry up and die already. My phone rings. It’s Zoe. I take a few deep breaths to calm down before I answer.
“Hey.”
“Ciao, bella!”
“What the hell does that mean?”
She laughs.
“Jetlag that bad, huh?”
“I wish that was the only thing that was wrong.”
Dieting Makes Cathy Crazy Page 14