by Shelly Cruz
I dial *67 and her number, and she answers on the first ring. “Hello.”
“Hi, Luci.”
“Lena! Where are you? I’ve been friggin’ worried about you! Massimo is freaking the fuck out! And why are you calling me from a blocked number? What’s going on?” she spews.
“I’m okay. I’m calling from a blocked number because I don’t want Massimo coming for me, which is exactly what he’ll do if he finds out where I am,” I tell her while I’m pacing back and forth in the room.
“I don’t understand. Why did you leave?”
“I can’t tell you that right now, but it’s something I had to do. I promise I’m not in trouble or anything. I had to do this for Massimo.”
“For Massimo? What does that even mean, Lena? This is really fucked up! You know that, right?”
“Yeah, I know. I’d probably be having a meltdown if the tables were turned. Someday you’ll all understand. But for now, this is how it is.”
“When are you coming back?”
“I don’t know,” I whisper.
“You don’t know? So you left, and that’s it?”
“For now, yes.”
“Geez, Lena, you’re scaring me.”
“Please don’t be. I’m fine, I promise. I’m in another city, thousands of miles away. Just know that I love you. I’ll check in occasionally, okay?”
“It’s not like I have a choice. You’re making everyone’s decisions for them. How fucking gracious of you!”
“I’m sorry, Luci, but this is the best way. The less you know, the less you have to lie to Massimo. I gotta go. I love you,” I say and hit the End button before she can say anything else. I can practically hear her bitching me out.
I toss my phone across the bed and lie back onto the pillows. What a mess I’ve created. I hope it’s all worth it in the end.
I stand from the bed and peel my shirt off, tossing it on the floor, unbuckle my jeans, letting them drop, and finish pushing them off with my feet, one leg at a time. I walk to the shower and turn on the water, letting it warm up as I unfasten my bra and hang it on the doorknob. I reach down, pull my socks off, and remove my undies. I place my frames onto the vanity then extend my hand to gauge the water temp. When it’s hot enough, I slide the lever to run the shower. The last few days have been overwhelming, and that phone call with Luci was the culmination of it all.
I step into the shower and let the hot water burn my skin as I sink down and sit on my haunches. The water and my tears flow freely as one.
CHAPTER 10
Black
MASSIMO
A Few Days Later
“YOU’VE BEEN IGNORING EVERYONE’S calls for days, and Ma is worried. She made me come here to check on you and make sure you’re okay. We’re all worried about you,” my brother says. He crosses the room and turns the volume down, Pearl Jam’s “Black” playing loud as fuck.
Lena left, and my world has tipped on its axis. I can’t see straight. My thoughts are a jumbled mess. My chest is tight, constricting from the pain. Without lifting my head, I look at Rocco from where I’m lying on the couch. He’s standing to the left of the stereo system, feet apart and arms crossed.
“I’m fine. You can fucking leave now!” I retort and close my eyes again.
“Yeah, because you look fine, wearing the same clothes you were wearing when I saw you a few days ago and smelling like whiskey,” he huffs.
“I said I’m fine, leave me the fuck alone!” I roar.
“Stop being an asshole and get up. At least take a shower. I’ll make you something to eat, and you can tell me about it.”
I jump to my feet and dash across the room to get in his face. “Tell you about it? You want me to tell you about it, fine. The woman I’m supposed to marry in two months walked out the door without saying a fucking word. She snuck out while I was away and disappeared, leaving nothing but a bullshit note with her phone and ring. And then they didn’t fucking live happily ever after! There, end of story, now leave me the fuck alone! I need to deal with this without you or anyone in my face. And leave your key on the counter on the way out!” I scream. I hit the back button on the CD player, cranking up the volume to drown in the lyrics that are currently my life.
“You’re such an asshole sometimes. No wonder Lena left you,” he says before leaving.
Several hours later, I feel terrible about how I treated my brother, but I can’t get past my misery and anger enough to call him and apologize. He’s right. I’m an asshole.
After showering, I call my mother because she gets worried, and that causes her blood pressure to rise. I need my mother in good health. I can’t handle any more bad news right now.
“Hey, Ma,” I say when she answers.
“Figlio, come stai?”
“I’m okay, Ma,” I lie.
“You no sound okay, Massimo,” she says in her thick Italian accent.
“I’m sad. I’m hurt. I’m angry. But I’ll be fine, Ma.”
“Massimo, why you no come here tomorrow, and I make you some melanzane alla parmigiana, eh? It’s your favorite,” she asks.
“Okay, Ma. I’ll come over tomorrow, see you. Ciao.”
“Ciao.”
I told Benny I’d meet him for drinks later tonight, but first, I drive to Luci’s house. She never answers her damn phone, and I want an update. Besides, the drive will do me good. The weather is finally warming up, so I take the scenic road down Storrow Drive with my windows open, Metallica’s “The Memory Remains” pumping loud through the speakers.
Thirty minutes later, I park in Luci’s driveway and sprint to the front. I rap my fist against the door several times.
“You’re wicked impatient! You need to chill out!” I hear her say as she’s unlocking it. Before it’s fully open, I push my way inside.
“Sorry, I’m on edge, Luci. I’ve barely slept the past few days. I can’t eat and I’ve been drinking too much whiskey. I’m a picture-perfect mess,” I whine. I must sound like a fucking pussy, but I can’t snap out of it. “Have you heard from her? Do you have any news?” I ask as I continue walking back to the kitchen, Luci shuffling behind me.
“Mass, first, you need to relax! Your attitude isn’t helping make anything better!” Luci scolds.
“I’m not here for a fucking lecture! Anything new?”
“Well, then chill out!” she retorts. “Nothing new. I already told you that when I spoke to Lena on the phone, she wouldn’t give me any details because she knew this—” gesturing her hand forward at me in an up-and-down motion “—is exactly how you would act.”
“Fuck, Luci. I’m at a loss here. What am I gonna do?” I ask, more a plea of desperation than a question needing an answer. I pull a chair out from the kitchen table and sit. A flood of memories hits me.
Three Years Ago
Lena invited me over for dinner because Luci is away for the week. She wanted to make Puerto Rican food; arroz con gandules, chuletas, and tostones. I’ve never had Puerto Rican food, but if Lena is serving, I’ll eat. I sit at the table while she sashays her sexy ass around the kitchen—opening the refrigerator to get ingredients, reaching into the cabinets for seasonings, bending to open a cupboard and get a pan. All of it makes my dick hard as a rock. I can’t sit and watch her anymore. I stand, strut across the kitchen in three quick steps, wrapping my arms around her waist, her back to my front, and bury my nose into her neck.
“Fuck, Lena, you’re so sexy. I can’t just sit there and watch you trot around the kitchen like that,” I murmur into her right ear.
“Mmm, is that right?” she teases, lifting her hands, tangling them in my hair. “What are you gonna do about it?”
“Well, I’ll start by—” I place my hands on her hips and spin her to face me “—kissing those sweet lips.” I lift her glasses off, dropping them onto the counter. I put my hands around her face, our lips crashing. I force her lips apart with my tongue, and she moans. While I’m sucking on her lips, I drop my hands, dragging them up and down the s
ides of her thighs and to the front to unbutton her jeans.
“Please, Massimo,” she sighs as I unzip her pants, forcing them down over her hips.
“Tell me what you want, Lena,” I mutter, not wanting to distance myself from her, as my hands make my way into her panties.
“I want to feel you inside of me. All of you,” she whimpers as her hands lower to my belt, which she begins unbuckling.
“Take what you want,” I respond.
She finishes unzipping my jeans, pushing them down, and they fall to my ankles. I lift her up to rest on the side of the kitchen counter, and she guides me to her entrance, easing me into her wetness. She groans in pleasure.
“Everything I have is yours,” I say as I’m gliding in and out of her. Her arms wrap around my neck, and her body is lithe. She meets my strokes with her own thrusts until we milk each other dry.
“Massimo, are you listening to me?” Luci hollers, snapping me back to the here and now.
“What did you say?”
“You’re such an asshole sometimes! It makes me wonder if you deserve what Lena did!” she spews at me. Ouch, that hurts, but I deserve it because I’m pretty unbearable right now.
“Fuck you, Luci!” I retort.
“I said, I know you don’t want to think about it, but what are you gonna do about the wedding? It’s still on. You have to start canceling stuff. People are traveling; it’s the least you should do,” she tells me, softening her tone. “I’ll help you with what I can.”
“Ugh, I don’t want to think about that,” I mutter, especially not after the memories that were just playing in my mind. “What if she comes back? I think I should wait,” I say, trying to convince myself more than Luci.
“Well, I hate being the bearer of bad news but, let’s face it, I don’t think she’s marrying you. I mean, she took her stuff and moved out of your place.” Her words are like salt in a wound.
“I can always count on you to throw more wood in the fire, Luce, thanks,” I snap back, getting up from the chair, marching toward the front door.
As she trails behind me, Luci says, “Look, I know you don’t want to think about her not coming back, about the wedding, about any of it, but you have to deal with it. Rip the Band-Aid off already. Besides, I’m on your side right now because I’m pissed at Lena. This stunt she pulled is affecting all of us. It was fucking selfish of her to not say anything to any of us,” Luci spouts off in anger.
I ignore her and walk straight out the door and to my car. The engine turns, and I need to silence the storm brewing within, so I channel surf and crank the volume when I hear Megadeth’s “In My Darkest Hour.”
“You look like shit,” Benny says as I approach him sitting at the bar inside Prezza, the restaurant Nick bartends at in the North End. We often meet here to throw back a few drinks when Nick works the bar. The crowd is mostly locals, people who live in the neighborhood, or wait staff and bartenders from the other places in the area. Tonight, the bar is not that busy, and the dining room is half full. It’s a nice place. Customers are well dressed, but not formal. There are no TVs anywhere, and the Gipsy Kings play through the speakers. I see one of my friends and his wife sitting at a table in the back dining room and wave.
“It’s been a shitty week. What can I say?” I snort. Benny knows me well; he already has my whiskey sitting on the bar for me.
He and I have been friends our whole lives. We met in elementary school and have been inseparable since. He has five sisters—two older and three younger—so he spent a lot of time at my house, always trying to escape from being around all those women. He said they drove him crazy with all their bitching.
He nearly died last year in a car accident. Benny was driving to pick up Dom when some asshole T-boned him after running the light. He was in a coma for a week and in ICU for another two weeks at Mass General. After that, he had to do physical therapy and was out of work for months. It was a rough time for all of us. Benny used to always wear a buzz cut, but since the accident, he lets the top of his dark brown hair grow to cover the long scar across the side of his scalp. His arms are all scarred up too, small dark spots up and down both of them from the shards of glass that were embedded into his skin. What he hates the most, though, are the same small scars across his neck and face. Benny hasn’t driven or been the same since. It fucked with his head—bad.
“No news?”
“Nothing,” I say before shooting my whiskey back. “Give me another,” I tell Nick as I place the empty glass down onto the bar.
“No leads, nothing? I mean, with all the people we know, nobody knows anything?” Benny inquires.
“Nope. I went to the bank and talked to Nina. She told me she saw Lena on Friday morning, the day she left. Said Lena made a big withdrawal, basically emptied her account, but didn’t close it. Thinking about it, Lena probably did it that way so Nina wouldn’t call me because she knows Nina and I are friends. Other than that, no one saw her,” I explain, rapping my fingers on the bar top, waiting for my drink.
“Fuck, man. She planned this well,” Benny quips.
“Thanks, Captain Obvious,” I say, looking at him with side-eye while shaking my head.
Nick arrives with the bottle of Jack in tow, fills my glass, and leaves it on the bar. “It looks like you’ll be sucking on Jack all night,” he says with a low laugh.
I met Nick playing the courts. He was new to the neighborhood, which automatically made me wary of him. He had long hair, donned a ponytail, and was active around the rim. Over time, we became friends. He did a tour in the Gulf War, and when he came back, he moved in with his aunt here in the North End. Nick grew up down the Cape, but after the war, he wanted a change of pace. He fit right in with my crew.
“I’m guessing the bachelor weekend is off?” Benny asks.
“It’s off as a bachelor weekend, but I definitely still want to go to Vegas. Need to go. After everything that’s happened, I gotta get out of here, and what better place than Vegas to forget everything,” I tell them.
In unison, they both say, “I’m down.”
“Nothing like Vegas women to make you forget,” Benny chimes in.
“You’re friends with the manager at the Boston Harbor Hotel, aren’t you?” I ask Benny.
“Yeah, why?”
“I need to cancel the wedding. We paid a pretty fucking penny for the down payment. Maybe he can do something to get some of the money back,” I tell him.
“I’ll call him, see what I can do for you. No promises,” he responds.
“Story of my life. Nothing is promised,” I say, and shoot back another whiskey.
CHAPTER 11
Apathy
MARIALENA
August 2004
THURSDAY NIGHTS AT THE LAST DROP are busy because it’s the first night of the week with live music. Red Brick City, a local band that plays every Thursday night, has had the gig since before I started working here. They have a following that shows up for them every week. They’re set to take the stage at 9:30 p.m. after the dinner rush ends, and most families have gone for the night.
“Hey, Lena, here comes your man,” Stevie quips from the other end of the bar.
“He’s not my man!”
“Keep telling yourself that,” she says. “You’ve been sleeping with him for months, and he’s like a dog, follows your every move. I’d say he’s your man.”
“Whatever!” Annoyed at her, I walk away, pulling slips from the printer to make some drinks for the service bar. I pour two beers and a gin and tonic and set them onto the service area with their tickets. When I look up, Nate is standing to my right, smiling.
Nate is the drummer for Red Brick City. We officially met a few weeks after I started working here when he sat at the bar during their break and asked for a Sam Adams. Stevie, always trying to be cute, said to him, “How funny, you love Sam Adams and the Red Sox. Did you know Lena is a Boston gal? Bet you’ll love her too.” That’s how things started between us.
&nb
sp; Initially, we talked when he was here to play their show. After a couple of months, he started coming in early to sit at the bar, eat, and chat with me. Nate’s not the type of guy I’m typically attracted to, so I didn’t think about hooking up with him initially. He’s got dark blond hair, a shaggy look to it with the long pieces on top that stick up all over the place, which accentuates his piercing blue eyes. He’s fair-skinned with a small, slightly crooked nose and thin lips.
Each week he came in, I got to know him a little more. He grew on me. I thought it was cute that when we talked, he related most everything to a song. He would always sing a random lyric. He’s a nice guy, sweet, and showers me with attention. In most circumstances, that would be a good thing, except when I met him, my heart was shattered, and I was not in a good place. It was easy to avoid talking about myself because I was usually working during our conversations.
The first few times he asked me to go out with him, I turned him down. I had told him I wasn’t looking for a relationship. Eventually, I said “yes” because I thought it would help me fill a void. I thought hanging out with him would help me get over Massimo. I was wrong. Other than having great sex with him on the regular, it hasn’t helped. On the contrary, it makes me feel like a terrible person because I’m basically using him for sex, and he doesn’t deserve that. Not to mention, I still think of Massimo every day. Each time I have sex with Nate, it’s Massimo I see. I’m such a jerk.
We’ve been spending time together a few days a week, although I don’t ever spend the night at his place. It’s been a little over six months since we’ve started dating, but I won’t commit, can’t commit. My heart isn’t in it, which is awful of me because he’s a great guy, deserves someone who will give themselves completely to the relationship. I know Nate wants that from me. Each time he brings it up, I avoid the conversation in some way.
