by Shelly Cruz
“Salute.” We clink our glasses.
“I love you, Mrs. D.” He brushes his lips to mine, swiping his tongue across my lips to pry them open.
“Staking your claim before it’s time, are you?”
“Our wedding date just makes it official. You’re already mine.” He deepens his kiss, placing one of his hands on my back so I can feel the arousal beneath his jeans. He puts his wine glass on the counter and takes mine out of my hand, placing it next to his.
Massimo lifts me up and onto the island. He’s hungry for me. His fingers press into my rounded hips. “I want to fuck you,” he murmurs while kissing me.
“I still have my period,” I say, placing my hands on his chest and nudging him back from me.
“I don’t care. I need to be buried inside of you.”
“You know I’m not into that.” I jump down from the counter, dropping to my knees before him—my eyes level with his waist. I peek up at him while my hands work at unbuckling his belt. When I manage to open it, I pop the button open and pull the zipper down—his jeans swiftly falling to the floor. Massimo wears tighty-whities; they hug his lean, flat hips, accentuating his V and trail of dark hair running from his chest down and hiding behind his briefs.
I rise up on my knees and lick around his belly button. Massimo threads his hands in my hair, tangling his fingers in my curls. My tongue licks down the trail of hair, and when I reach the top of his briefs, I bite the elastic to pull it down. My hands tug at them until his beautiful erection is before me, glistening. The thick vein on its underside is prominent. My mouth is watering to take him in.
“Is this what you want?” I ask, grasping his length with one hand while licking and swirling my tongue, my eyes never leaving his.
Massimo grips my hair, his head dropping back. “Fuck yes.”
My mouth opens, taking him in, and I hear him grunt. He’s moist, his unique scent mixed with the saltiness of his arousal. I adjust myself to take him further in, covering his length until I feel him rub the back of my throat. I flick my tongue up to tickle him, begin slowly pulling my mouth back until reaching his crown, then slide back down.
“I love fucking your mouth while you’re wearing lipstick.”
I peek up at him. His eyes are dark and hooded, lust flaring. My mouth continues to glide up and down his shaft, sucking my cheeks in for him to feel the pressure of them, his hands guiding me.
I remove him from my mouth, my hands holding his length. “I want to drink all of you.” Wrapping my lips around him, I scrape my teeth slowly down his shaft until he’s fully seated in my mouth, and Massimo yells in pleasure. My lips cover my teeth, gently soothing his iron length as I glide it out. I hear Massimo groan, and he begins to rock his hips, taking control of the movements, which means his arousal is building, his release on the cusp of exploding.
He increases his speed, tangling his fingers further in my hair, tugging at it until he grunts. “Lena, I’m gonna come.” I move my hands to his firm glutes and push him toward me until he lets go, emptying himself, his cream filling my mouth. When I feel Massimo’s legs relax and his hands loosen in my hair, I pull back and look up at him, licking my lips from satisfaction.
“Fuck, woman, your mouth is like fucking magic. You’re gonna be the death of me,” he proclaims as I’m rising up.
“Good.” I wink at him. “Let me go wash up, and we can have dinner.”
A week later, I’m at St. Elizabeth’s Hospital for my laparoscopy. My mother waits in the waiting room while I go back with the nurse. Once in the procedure room, the nurse asks me questions to ensure I understand what is happening. Dr. Ahmed and an anesthesiologist come into the room and begin explaining the procedure. I’ll be given general anesthesia and will be asleep for approximately thirty minutes. The doctor will make a small incision on my abdomen area and will insert a tube with a camera on the end to take a look around, and images will be captured.
When I wake up from the procedure, I’m groggy, and my mouth is dry and loose. The nurse helps me to the dressing room where my mother is waiting for me. My mother helps me into my sweatpants, T-shirt, and hoodie, and we exit the surgical center. By the time we get to my mom’s house, I’m more awake, yet my body is tired. I lie on the couch and call Massimo.
“Hi,” I say when he answers.
“How’d it go with your mom today?”
“Good. She’s resting right now. I’m gonna probably take a nap too since we got up super early. You know I’m not a morning person.” The lie slips from my lips with ease.
“I know how to get you going in the morning,” he tells me in a low voice.
“Always thinking about sex.”
“I didn’t say anything about sex. You did,” he says.
“Yeah, yeah. Anyway, just wanted to check in and let you know that everything went well. I know you’re at work. I’ll call you later.”
“Okay. Bye, babe.”
“Bye.”
Four days later, Dr. Ahmed’s office calls to schedule an appointment to discuss my results. It can’t be good when the doctor wants to see you in person. Bad news is on the horizon.
CHAPTER 20
Clarity
MASSIMO
October 2012
MY FEET POUND THE pavement as I’m running the trail along the Charles River, Volbeat’s “Heaven Nor Hell” streaming through my earbuds. Running usually gives me clarity and lets me sort through the storm in my head. My legs burn from the miles they’ve carried me, but my head is still a fucking mess.
It’s been four days since Lena told me she can’t have kids.
Four days with her words ringing in my ear.
Four days and I still can’t get my act together.
Four days with a tightly wound knot in my chest.
I can’t understand why Lena would ever think she had to leave because she can’t have kids. Is there a logical explanation behind it? Even if there is, will I accept whatever excuse she gives me for shattering our lives?
I know I need to talk to her, but I’m still so upset about everything that I can’t, not yet. I need to let my anger subside. Otherwise, I won’t be able to have a normal conversation with her.
My reaction to her confession wasn’t how I should’ve reacted to the news, but I was blinded by her words, angry that she would make such a decision about my life, our life, without speaking to me first.
I know I was wrong. She probably thinks it’s my reaction to her inability to have kids, which it’s not. It’s about her ability to lie with such ease, her callousness at making such a life-altering decision on her own. Here I was expecting her to say she was with another guy or in love with someone else. I probably would have handled it better. Who am I kidding? I definitely wouldn’t have.
I check my watch; I’ve been running for over an hour but need to head back, or else I’ll be late to pick up the boys from their music lessons at the North End Music & Performing Arts Center. I run toward the Dartmouth Street Footbridge to cross Storrow Drive and jog the last few blocks to my apartment.
After picking up the boys from music lessons, we walk down to Regina Pizzeria to grab a pie for dinner. The boys love pizza, and you can never go wrong with Regina’s. Thankfully, when we get there, there’s no line. There are times the line here stretches down the block in the dead of winter; that’s how good the pizza at this place is.
As usual, it’s a full house inside. Lots of locals sprinkled with tourists. It’s a casual place, most everyone in jeans, donning their favorite sports team hats or hoodies, with a few after-work-crowd people still suited up.
We’re taken to the back-corner booth next to the window, past tables of people and families chatting, eating, and laughing. The boys love sitting along this wall because they look at the pictures hanging one right next to the other and ask questions about the people in them, most of them celebrities, both local and well-known. They can also see all the police and fire department patches that adorn the wall from different places.
> As I sit here staring at my little guys, I can’t help but think about Lena, and the last time we came here a few weeks before she left me.
Nine Years Ago
Her sister, brother-in-law, and their four kids are visiting from Florida for a week during the kids’ school vacation in mid-March. It’s the night before they have to return home, and we meet them here with one of Lena’s brothers, his wife, Lena’s other sister who lives in Medford, and their parents. There are thirteen of us, and we take up most of the area back here. Whenever we’re with Lena’s nieces or nephews, she always sits with the kids no matter where we go for dinner. She wants to be among them, laugh with them, tell jokes, draw, or listen to their stories.
I like sitting across from her because when she’s with the kids, her face glows. Her eyes turn up and crinkle from laughter. She’s relaxed with them, and the kids are drawn to her, all wanting to sit next to her or on her lap. Being with the kids is like second nature for her. Every time I see it, all I can think about is what a great mom she’s gonna be.
“Dinner was fun tonight. I love it when the whole family is together. My heart is full when we’re all gathered around a table,” Lena says while removing her jeans in the walk-in closet. “I wish we all lived in the same city. I miss those kids a lot, am missing so much of them growing up.”
I join her inside the closet and take her into my arms. “I can’t wait to grow our family, put a baby in your belly,” I tell her while drawing circles on her stomach. “You’re fucking beautiful,” I say, as I pepper kisses along her face, down her neck, over her breasts, stopping at her belly and resting on my knees. “But when I get you pregnant, and you’re wicked swollen with our baby, you’ll be,” I pause, “I don’t have words to describe it—Lenalicious.” I howl back in laughter. I have a huge grin sprawled across my face because thinking of Lena with a swollen belly, swollen with my baby, a baby we created from love, makes my heart burst with happiness, makes my dick hard.
“You say the craziest stuff.” She chuckles, running her fingers through my hair. When I look up at her, Lena shifts her eyes away from mine while fiddling with her glasses.
“I am crazy! Crazy for you, for us, and for the family we’re gonna have.” I pop up to my feet and open the bottom dresser drawer. “I know this is way early, but last week when I took my mother to Target, I saw this and couldn’t resist buying it.” I pull out a tiny white onesie and unfold it to show her. It says, “50% Mommy, 50% Daddy, 100% Perfect,” in stacked lettering.
She starts crying. Not even like tears dripping from her eyes, but full-on gushing tears and runs out of the closet.
“What’s the matter?” I ask, following her.
“Why would you buy that? We’re not even pregnant.”
“I know we’re not, but I’m just excited and couldn’t resist because look how cute it is.” I hold up the onesie closer for her to see. “It’s fine! We’ll be pregnant soon.” I wrap her in my arms and kiss the top of her head.
“It’s not fine! What happens if we never get pregnant?” she screeches, wrestling out of my arms.
“Lena, what’s wrong with you? We’ll get pregnant when we get serious about trying. Stop freaking out over it. It’s just a onesie. Seriously, it’s not that big of a deal.”
“Actually, it is a big deal, but whatever!” she yells while slamming the bathroom door behind her.
“One large cheese pizza,” the waitress says, placing it on the table.
I serve the boys and grab a slice. “Wait a couple of minutes, guys. It’s too hot right now, don’t want you to burn your mouth. Blow on it a little, so it cools off.”
“Daddy, you remember the time I burned my mouth?” Lucio asks.
“Yes, buddy. I do.”
“I never burned mine, right, Daddy?” Leandro asks.
“No, you didn’t, which is why you have to be careful now.”
My thoughts go back to that night when I showed Lena the onesie I had bought. Now it makes sense why she started crying and freaked out the way she did. That night she already knew she couldn’t have kids. Why wouldn’t she have told me? None of it makes sense.
When we were in bed later that night, she had told me she didn’t want to talk about it, was tired, and went to sleep. I didn’t bring up the topic again because I didn’t want to upset her any more than I already had. Figured when the time was right, we would talk about it. Had I known, I would’ve forced us to have the discussion. I had put the onesie back into the bottom drawer. I still have it, tucked away with all my workout gear.
After dinner, we go to the Taverna on Salem Street. Rocco is down the Cape, and Stella is at Casa Lorenzo in the South End. I need to close up here and check in with Patty, the manager at Trattoria downtown, to make sure she’s good and doesn’t need anything. As we’re walking the three blocks, I text Camila to let her know she can pick up the boys.
Massimo: At Taverna—boys are ready when you are
Camila: OK—be there in 30
Once at Taverna, I slide the boys onto stools at the bar and ask Antonella, the bartender, to get them each a Shirley Temple to drink while we wait for their mother to pick them up.
It’s a Monday night, and the restaurant is quiet. A few couples are sitting at two-tops along the right wall. An older couple in the back corner, the man is balding, wears glasses, and has his hand extended across the table. He’s caressing his wife’s left hand, or whom I presume to be his wife since they’re both wearing wedding rings. At the two-top in the middle of the banquette are two young women, maybe in their late twenties, looking like they came for dinner after work, one dressed in a pants suit, the other in dress pants and a cardigan. The table next to the window is a young couple, both of them looking at their phones, not paying attention to each other. What’s wrong with people? They’re out to dinner. Put your fucking phone down and look at the person in front of you. You never know when they won’t be there anymore.
We sit at the bar while we wait for Camila to pick up the boys. We’re sitting near the servers’ station, and the boys are talking to Kelly, one of the servers. They’re telling her about their music class and that they like to play soccer. Kelly is one of the servers who’s been working in our restaurants since I opened Trattoria downtown over ten years ago. The boys have known her their entire lives, and they love seeing her because she gives them a lot of attention. Before we know it, Camila shows up and leaves with the boys.
I text Dom.
Massimo: Where you at? I’m at Taverna—come have a few drinks
Dom: Can’t—with Luci tonight
Massimo: Luci? Lena’s Luci?
Dom: Yeah =)
Dom and Luci? When did that happen? I’ve been caught up in all my drama. I had no idea. And Dom is so chill, he’ll just let me sulk, bitch, and be miserable and not say anything about it. That’s why he’s my brother. He’s always there for me, no questions asked. I decide to text Benny. I need some company tonight. Drinking Jack solo won’t cut it.
Massimo: At Taverna—drinks?
Benny: Be there later, 9ish
It’s 9:15 p.m., Kelly dropped the check on the last table in the dining room, and I’ve sent the other servers home. “Antonella, pour me a Jack, neat, please,” I ask, as I’m sliding onto the stool near the front window. I remove my phone from my back pocket and see one missed call from Lena and two text messages.
Lena: It’s been 4 days. We need to talk
Lena: Please stop ignoring me
She’s been calling and texting since I stormed out of The Vault last week. I’ve ignored her because I’m not in the right headspace to deal with it yet. My fingers hover over the keypad, on the fence whether or not I should respond. I know I have to; I can’t put it off much longer.
I wanted an explanation, and the moment she gave it to me, I didn’t want to hear it. There must be more to the story. Part of me is still wicked pissed. Pissed that she made such a colossal decision for me, ruined my life, and ripped my heart out.
I had zero say in any of it. But, if I want to have a normal conversation with her, I need to chill out.
“What’s up?” Benny says, extending his fist, which I meet with mine.
“Antonella, another Jack, please. Then you can go. I’ll finish up.”
Benny slides into the stool next to me, drops his fedora onto the bar, and says, “What’s going on?”
“Did you know Dom and Luci are dating?”
“Yeah, he mentioned it a few weeks ago.”
“I must be the only one who doesn’t know.”
Antonella places two tumblers in front of us, each half full of whiskey.
“You’ve had a lot going on the past few weeks. You know how Dom is. He’ll never let you in on what’s going on with him if he knows you’re going through something.”
“Speaking of, I saw Lena last week. She finally told me why she left.”
“Oh yeah, how’d that go?” he asks before sipping his drink.
“Terrible, that’s how. As usual, my temper got the best of me, and I stormed out before I said things I would regret.”
“Some things never change.”
I side-eye him for calling me out, but it’s what I need right now.
“Why’d she do it?” he inquires.
“She can’t have kids.”
“That’s fucked up!”
“That was my exact reaction too. I don’t understand why that would make her leave.”
“I was referring to her not being able to have kids, in general, and not to that being the reason she left. But yeah, it doesn’t make sense to leave over something like that,” he clarifies.
“So I’m not crazy for thinking that. I’ve been racking my brain about it. I mean, she made this decision that would change both of our lives, except she forgot to consult with me. My head is all sorts of fucked up over it. Between her and my mother’s death, I’m a mess.”
