365 Days

by Blanka Lipinska

  He leaned over and placed a gentle kiss on my forehead. “I love you, and marrying you is the penultimate thing I want to do in my life.”

  He parked the Ferrari in the driveway.

  “What’s the last one then?” I asked.

  “A son, of course,” he replied, opening the door.

  I sat in place, trying to catch my breath, still not able to believe what was going on—how my life had changed during the last two months. Get your shit together, Laura, I told myself, stepping out. I smoothed down my dress and took a deep breath. “All right. Let’s get this over with,” I said, my legs slightly wobbly. “I hope you remember our official version.”

  The front door opened, and Dad greeted us from the threshold.

  Massimo chuckled and offered a hand to my dad.

  They exchanged a few sentences in German—nothing important, I presume—and Dad turned to address me,

  “Darling, you look beautiful. That blond hair suits you. I don’t know whether its because of that man or that haircut, but you look positively aglow.”

  “I guess it’s both of those things,” I replied, kissing him on the cheek and allowing him to embrace me.

  We went to the terrace and took seats on soft lounge chairs surrounding a large table. Massimo did as I had asked him, keeping at a slight distance. At some point his expression changed. He fixed his eyes on something behind me. I cast a curious glance behind me. There she was—my mother, wearing an amazing off-white long evening dress, was heading our way, gracing Massimo with a charming smile. I got up and kissed her on the cheeks.

  “Massimo, please meet my mother—Klara Biel.” The Man in Black stood up, dumbfounded, but he quickly gathered his wits, switched to Russian, and greeted my mom, planting a kiss on her outstretched hand. She put on her charm, sending him one of her more breathtaking looks, before turning her attention to me.

  “Would you come with me to the kitchen, darling? I need a hand there,” she said, still smiling. That smile was nothing but trouble.

  She turned and retreated inside the house, leaving the men deep in conversation. I followed her.

  As soon as I went inside, I saw her again. She was standing with her arms crossed, right next to the table.

  “What’s happening, Laura?” she asked. “You change jobs, apartments, how you look, and now you bring an Italian to my house. Tell me everything immediately. You haven’t been entirely honest with me.”

  Her natural lie detector was working without pause, it seemed, and it was never wrong. I had known it wouldn’t be easy to fool my mother, but I was still astonished she had figured it out as soon as this.

  “Mom, it’s only a new haircut. I needed a change. We’ve already talked about my trip. And Massimo is a work colleague. I like him and he teaches me a lot. I don’t know what to tell you… I’ve only known him for a few weeks.”

  The less I told her, the better. I wouldn’t be able to remember all those lies.

  My mother stood straighter, her gaze focused on me and her eyes narrowing.

  “I don’t know why you lie to me, child, but have it your way. Remember, though, that I see a lot, and I know my way around people. I also know how expensive that car you arrived in is. And I don’t think that a hotel employee would be able to afford one.”

  In my mind I was screaming and cursing at Massimo for making me leave my BMW for his Ferrari.

  “Besides, I know what diamonds look like,” she continued, trailing a finger along my necklace. “And I’ve seen Chanel’s newest catalog. Remember, dear, that I was the one who showed you what fashion is all about.”

  She finished and sat down, waiting for an explanation. I didn’t move and wasn’t able to come up with anything smart. Resigned, I lowered myself to the seat next to hers.

  “What was I supposed to tell you? That he’s a filthy rich owner of the hotel I told you about? He’s from a wealthy family and invests a lot. We’re seeing each other and I’d like it to be serious. And I can’t exactly dictate the prices of the gifts he gets me.”

  Mother kept her eyes on me, studying my face. With each second, her expression was growing less hostile.

  “He can speak Russian, that’s for sure. He’s a very polite young man. Well educated. And he has good taste in women and jewelry,” she said, getting up. “All right. Let’s get back to them before Tom bores him to death.”

  My eyes bulged. I couldn’t believe the sudden change of attitude. I knew my parents had always wanted me to marry someone rich, but her reaction still completely surprised me. After a long while, I managed to get myself in order and followed in my mom’s steps, still a bit dazed.

  Outside, the men were engrossed in an agitated discussion. I had no idea what they were talking about.

  I didn’t know a word of German, but I knew I had to come to Massimo’s rescue and present him with the new version of our story. Unfortunately, though my dad didn’t speak English, he understood a lot of it.

  “Come on, Massimo, I’ll show you to your room,” I said, patting him on the back. “Besides, Dad, we need to be going in a while,” I added, turning to my father.

  “It is getting kind of late,” Dad agreed, pushing himself to his feet.

  Massimo and I went upstairs and halted at my brother’s old room.

  “This is where you’ll sleep, but it’s not what I wanted to talk about,” I said in a conspiratorial whisper before bringing him up to date on our lies.

  When I finished, Massimo grinned, sticking his hands into his pockets, looking around the room.

  “I feel like a teenager again,” he said with a laugh.

  “Where’s your room, baby girl? You don’t expect me to really sleep here, do you?”

  “I do, and you will. My room is on the other end of the hallway. My parents still think our relationship is strictly platonic, so let’s keep them in the dark for a while yet.”

  “Yeah, just show me your room, Laura,” he said, trying to remain serious.

  I took his hand and led him down the corridor to my old room. It was smaller than what I had in Sicily, but I had lots of good memories here and didn’t need much to keep me happy. A bed, a TV, a little dressing table, and hundreds of photos hanging on the walls reminded me of my school years.

  “Did you have a boyfriend when you used to live here?” Massimo asked, studying the photos with a smile.

  “Sure. Why do you ask?”

  “Did you give him blow jobs in this room?”

  Unsure of what to say, I widened my eyes and frowned at the same time.

  “Excuse me?”

  “There’s no lock on the door, so I’m wondering where you did it. And how. Knowing that your parents could come in at any time, I mean.”

  “I leaned him against the door and knelt in front of him,” I said, placing a hand on Massimo’s torso and pushing him toward the door.

  He now stood exactly where my erstwhile boyfriend had stood, slowly unzipping his pants. I dropped to my knees and pressed his butt to the door.

  “Don’t move, Massimo, and stay quiet. This house has thin walls,” I ordered, putting his penis in my mouth.

  I blew him quickly and violently, wanting him to come fast. After a few minutes I felt his seed spilling into my throat. I swallowed it all like a good girl and got up, wiping my mouth with a hand. Massimo could barely stand. He screwed his eyes shut and leaned limply against the door.

  “I like it when you act like a whore,” he breathed, zipping his pants up.

  “Oh really?” I asked with an ironic smile.

  We got ourselves in order and returned downstairs, heading out to church for the ceremony. Lublin was a lot smaller than Warsaw. There weren’t a lot of cars as expensive as ours. As we drove by the church, all eyes drifted our way, taking in the sight of the black Ferrari.

  “Cool,” I muttered, happy with the reaction we got.

  Massimo gracefully stepped out of the car, smoothed down his jacket, and went to my door, opening it for me. Leaning
on his arm, I got out of the car and put on my sunglasses. The crowd grew quiet as Massimo and I walked hand in hand toward the church. It’s only your family, I told myself repeatedly, like a mantra, grinning at everyone we passed.

  My brother’s voice got me out of that daze.

  “Hey, sis, I see your fancy stories had something to do with the truth after all,” he said, walking over to me and giving me a quick hug. “You look awesome. I like your style.”

  I embraced him tightly. We only saw each other rarely, living so far away from one another. He was my friend, my beloved brother, and an unparalleled ideal. He was also the smartest guy I knew—a true mathematical prodigy—and a real stud. When we still used to live at our parents’ house, he scored with all my friends. He was the complete man—smart, handsome, stylish, and ruthless. We were polar opposites when it came to character and appearance. I was a petite brunette with nearly black eyes, and he was a tall blond guy with emerald eyes. When he was little, he had looked like a little angel, with those platinum blond curls.

  “Kuba, my beautiful brother, how good to see you. I completely forgot you’d be here. Let me introduce you to”—I switched to English—“my… Massimo Torricelli. We work together.”

  The men exchanged looks, shaking hands, but it looked more like sizing each other up before a fight than an ordinary greeting.

  “Ferrari Italia, four point five liter engine, five hundred seventy-eight horsepower. A true beast,” Kuba said, nodding his head in approval.

  “Oh, you know, the keys were on top of the pile,” Massimo said nonchalantly, putting on his sunglasses.

  He was disarming, but my brother didn’t seem to think so. He watched the Italian carefully, trying to look right through him, it seemed.

  The service was boring as hell and too long. The whole time my entire family was focused on the handsome Italian at my side. The only thing I prayed for during the ceremony was for it to end. When the party started, the guests would stop ogling my man.

  As the couple recited their vows, I recalled what Massimo had told me during our trip here: we were going to be in the same situation as the young couple in another week. It’s just… was I really ready for this? Would I want to marry a man I barely knew? Who terrified me and made me angry on a daily basis? And besides, would I want to be with someone who wouldn’t let me have my own opinions? Someone so controlling? Someone who always had to be right, who always had to have his way, and who didn’t allow me to do most of the things I loved, thinking that he was protecting me? The sad truth was that I was so in love with him that rational thinking stopped being something I was capable of. I couldn’t imagine losing Massimo again. I would not leave him.

  “Are you feeling well?” he asked in a whisper as the ceremony finally ended. “You’re very pale.”

  That was true. I hadn’t felt too well for the last couple of days. I was tired and had no appetite, but that was to be expected—with all that stress, I should be thanking God I was still alive.

  “I’m a bit faint, but it has to be the nerves. It’ll be over soon.”

  We left the church, and it was supposed to be downhill from there. Everyone went to congratulate the young couple and celebrate my cousin Maria’s big day.

  The party was to be held in a picturesque rustic manor about fifteen miles outside the city. It consisted of several buildings, a hotel, stables, and a great hall where the party proper would take place. We were the last to arrive, as I had asked Massimo not to draw too much attention. Surprisingly, he listened. Practically unseen, we flitted through the huge room and reached our table. I sighed with relief, seeing Kuba was to sit with us. My brother would usually come to parties alone, trying to pick someone up. He loved it when women gave him their undivided attention, allowed him to woo them, and finally landed in his bed. He was a collector. In my case, the subject of sex had always been a bit more complicated, and sometimes men hurt me. My brother didn’t have that problem—the only way women hurt him was when one in a hundred rejected him, ruining his score.

  When we sat at the table, it turned out one place was free. I scanned the familiar faces of people around us, trying to guess who was missing. I couldn’t. The appetizers arrived a moment later, and I devoured mine—I hadn’t been able to eat since yesterday, so when I finally felt the hunger, my appetite swiftly overpowered any good sense I might have had.

  “Bon appétit,” I heard someone saying, and raised my eyes.

  It was a miracle I didn’t spit out the food I was chewing. The last seat at the table was now occupied. By my ex, whom I used to practice dancing with. Fuck me, I thought, can it get any worse than this?

  My brother watched me from over his plate, smirking ironically, unable to hide his amusement. Fortunately, Massimo didn’t notice, or at least I thought so. Lucky he couldn’t understand a word.

  Piotr took his seat and started nibbling at his food, keeping his eyes on me. And my appetite was gone, just like that. Disgusted, I pushed away the half-eaten pumpkin soup, grabbing Massimo’s thigh under the table. He softly caressed my hand, shooting a glance my way, reading me like an open book. I knew there would come a time when I would have to introduce him to my ex. Sooner rather than later.

  Piotr had been a part of my life that I really wanted to forget. We had met when I was sixteen. It all started with the dancing, and ended up as a relationship, as it often does. At first, he was my instructor, then my partner, and in the end—my tormentor. He had been twenty-five, and all the girls loved him—charming, handsome, fit, confident, and a dancer to boot. Regretfully, he also had his demons, and the greatest of those was cocaine. At first, I hadn’t seen it as harmful, at least until his addiction started to take its toll on me too. When he was doped, he never thought about me. The only thing that counted was himself. At the time, I was seventeen and I worshipped him with all my heart. I had no idea what a real relationship should look like, of how a woman should be treated. Of course, I wouldn’t have lasted five full years in a totally pathological relationship—when Piotr was sober, he would do anything for me, and always apologized profusely for acting like he had when under the influence of the drug. He was the reason I had escaped, moving to Warsaw. I knew I wouldn’t have been able to free myself from him otherwise. His voice shook me out of my reverie.

  “Red, if I remember correctly?” asked Piotr, leaning over the table with a bottle of wine.

  His green eyes stared at me hypnotically, his full lips stretching into a subtle smile. He hadn’t lost his magnetism, that was certain. A prominent jaw and a clean-shaven head didn’t really match with the image of a typical dancer, but they made him all the more intriguing. He had grown more muscular, heavier, through the years.

  I sipped from my glass and narrowed my eyes.

  “What the hell are you doing here?” I hissed through clenched teeth, sporting a fake smile so the other guests, especially that one I cared for the most, didn’t notice anything suspicious.

  “Maria invited me. Well, her husband did, to be precise. I’ve been helping them with their first dance, and we grew to be pals. Besides, I met them before, at your parents’ anniversary party, years ago. Remember?”

  I was fuming, wondering how my cousin could do that to me, when Massimo’s hand slid up my back.

  “Can you speak in English?” he asked, and I saw he was growing agitated. “I can’t stand not understanding anything.”

  I grimaced slightly and closed my eyes, wanting to die.

  “I’m not feeling too good,” I said instead, pushing myself to my feet and walking away, Massimo hot on my heels.

  We crossed the hall and went out to the garden, heading toward the stables.

  “Do you ride?” I asked, trying to take his mind off me.

  “Who was that man, Laura? You grew tense as soon as he showed up.”

  Massimo stopped and fixed me with his stare, keeping his hands in his pockets.

  “My former dance partner. You didn’t answer me. Do you ride?” I
repeated, not slowing down.

  “Only a dance partner?”

  “Jesus, Massimo, why do you care? He wasn’t just my dance partner, but I don’t want to talk about it. I don’t ask you about all your exes.”

  “So you were together? How long?”

  I took a deep breath, trying to overcome my irritation.

  “Several years. I would like to remind you, I wasn’t exactly a virgin when you met me. No matter how much you try to change that, those are the facts. You don’t have a time machine to change it, so just stop thinking about it and don’t make me think about it, either.”

  Furious, I returned to the building. The first dance was over, and the guests were crowding the dance floor. As I passed the door, my cousin grabbed the microphone.

  “Our first dance wouldn’t be possible without our amazing instructor, who is with us today. Piotr, please, come here. Show yourself,” she said. “It’s also a happy coincidence that his dance partner of many years and my own cousin, Laura, is here with us, too.”

  I swear I was going to faint hearing that. What was she thinking?

  “It would be our pleasure to watch you two dance.”

  The room exploded with cheers, and Piotr grabbed me by the hand, pulling me to the dance floor. I’m going to throw up, I thought, plodding behind him.

  “Enrique Iglesias, ‘Bailamos,’ please,” Piotr called out to the DJ. “Salsa, honeybuns…” he whispered into my ear, and lifted his brows, tossing his jacket to a random chair with a satisfied smirk.

  I took my position by his side, thanking God he hadn’t chosen tango. When we used to be together, our tangos always ended up in bed.

  The first sounds of the guitar flew from the speakers, and I turned my head to the entrance, noticing Massimo, standing with his back to the door, eyes blazing with fury. I also saw my brother leaning to his ear, saying something. I had no idea if he was trying to explain why Piotr and I were now occupying the center of the dance floor, or whether they were just talking. It didn’t change a thing—Massimo’s glare was wild with rage. I pulled away from Piotr and ran to the Man in Black, kissing him passionately, wanting him to know that I was only his. Then, with a wide smile on my face, spurred on by applause, I went back to my dance partner. The DJ started over and I assumed my position again. Those were the longest three minutes in my life, and the most exhausting dance I had ever experienced. When we finally bowed, the cheers and applause were deafening. Maria ran up to me, hugging both Piotr and me, while my mother graciously accepted congratulations from dozens of guests. I slowly withdrew toward Massimo.