Runaway Love

by Nicole W. Lee

  Genie's sigh of relief was almost audible. “Is that all...I mean, really?” She shrugged. “I don't know about living again. We are only friends. That's all.” Why did she say that?

  “Good. He needs a close friend...a close friend who is a woman.”

  “Yes, but--”

  “Mio amico, Lorenzo will be very sad if you leave,” Bernardo interrupted, driving in a large nail. “But I am a practical man. In my experience, I meet many people who do things that make them sorry later.

  “Yes, I'm sure,” Genie said uncertainly.

  “But, if you believe you really must leave mio amico,” he continued, “I will be honoured to personally attend to your safety - if you must leave us.”

  “Thank you, Bernardo.”

  “Everyone will be sad, if you leave,” he said. “Even I. I will be very sad.” He shook his head. “But most of all, mio amico Lorenzo will be very, very sad if you leave.”

  His English was far from perfect, but it was obvious that he knew the effects of stressing “if”. It was working too. Genie experienced a stab in the heart every time he used it.

  “I wonder what's taking Lorenzo so long,” she said, eager to change the subject. “Perhaps I'd better go--”

  “No. Un attimo.” He retrained Genie with a light touch on her arm. “Since Anna,” he continued, “You know Anna, his wife?”

  Genie nodded.

  “She is dead now.”

  Genie repeated her nod.

  “When she die, mio amico, Lorenzo, he die too. He is much loved in San Rafaele and everyone sad there too.” He shook his head to show his sadness.

  Genie remained silent to respect Bernardo's sad moment.

  Suddenly, he broke out in a wide grin, lighting up his face with a brightness that threatened to eclipse the sun. “Now you come. You come and he lives again.” He laughed briefly. “Now everyone in San Rafaele happy again because mio amico Lorenzo is happy.”

  “We...I..,” Genie started, wrestling with her true feelings about Bernardo's matchmaking. On the one hand, she felt trapped. It was just like home. Everyone tried to match her with passing males there too.

  On the other hand, on this occasion, the other half of the match was Lorenzo.

  That was a whole different story.

  Bernardo patted the back of Genie’s hand. “You are good for mio amico Lorenzo,” he said. “But, he will be very sad if you leave.”

  The good Commissario missed out a 'very' that time, but, he didn't leave out that 'if'. It had all the effects of Chinese water torture, dripping incessantly on the same spot on her head. She felt the beginnings of a headache.

  Genie took a deep breath and blew it out slowly through pursed lips. What could she say? Nothing. She opted for something simple. “I wonder what's taking Lorenzo so long.”

  Bernardo nodded and patted the back of her hand again in a fatherly way. 'Mission accomplished' was written all over his face.

  Two more days passed and Genie and Lorenzo somehow avoided the topic of her departure.

  There was a slight change in the general activities, however. When work permitted - more truthfully, with Lorenzo's good grace - Genie took time out from her duties to pay an occasional visit to San Rafaele.

  From the first visit, Bernardo's lecture about the local depth of pleasure the 'San Rafaelians' felt about her as 'La Signorina di Lorenzo' was borne out. She was bowled over by the attention of local members of the populace. They treated her as though she had been around all her life, engaging her in vigorous, friendly conversation.

  “I ran away from all that attention only to get more of it here,” Genie told herself.

  But, she had to admit - this kind of attention was a lot more pleasant.

  These people appeared to be genuinely pleased, even excited, to see her - and their enthusiastic demeanour rubbed off on her. They didn't have hidden agendas - at least not as far as Genie could tell. They appeared to take her at face value.

  What a blessing that was.

  The resultant rapport deepened by the second as they worked at trying out their English with various levels of success, and Genie responded with her limited Italian. Their mutual linguistic efforts brought much amusement.

  “You have become quite famous in San Rafaele, it seems,” Lorenzo said.

  “Ah no,” Genie retorted. “I am only basking in the glow of your fame. Without you, I'd be just another tourist.”

  During subsequent visits, Genie’s chats with the locals became increasingly long and complex and the early casual acquaintances swiftly blossomed into real and open friendships.

  As a result, Genie fell into an unreal state. It was easy to believe that this was her life now. Indeed, as immersed as she was in the companionship of Lorenzo and the genuine friendliness of the San Rafaelians, she had found it difficult to even think about it ending.

  On every visit, Genie made a point of visiting Fabiana and Violetta. Sometimes it was to engage Fabiana to take care of her hair, and even to make the odd purchase from Violetta, but mostly her visits were social.

  It hadn't taken her long to find a shop that had the capacity to print digital pictures. The owner knew who she was, of course, and immediately rocketed her discs to the top of the pile. Since her happy-snapping had taken up all her discs, she bought four more, just in case. There was no way she was going to destroy the precious images of Lorenzo and Domino on the discs she had. She'd download them onto her computer when she got home.

  Right away, she sorted out the pictures she'd taken of San Rafael's finest at the Questura. Sergeant Antonelli almost snapped to attention when he saw her and called everyone together to look through the photographs. Bernardo with his usual sixth sense fully charged, trotted down the stairs a few seconds after her arrival.

  He paid close attention to those, taken at Lorenzo's farm - particularly the photos of him and Genie together.

  “Better not let your wife see those,” Genie said.

  At first, Il Commissario frowned, probably weighing up whether or not it would be a good idea. Then a smile broke out. “She will like. She has a - how you say - a wide mind.”

  Genie managed to control a smile and her tongue. Correcting Il Commissario's English in front of his men would not go down well at all.

  Seeing the open enjoyment of these men shuffling through their photographs made her think of her own feelings studying Lorenzo's paintings. How she wished Lorenzo would start painting again.

  Her promise with Anna, She had to fulfil it.

  “Bernardo,” she said, “is there an Art supplies shop around here anywhere?”

  He furrowed his brow.

  “You know a place that sells paints - for Lorenzo?” She moved her hands to trace out a square shape. “Paintings?”

  “Ah. Comprendo. Quadri.” He moved his lips like an opera singer in preparation for getting them around foreign words. “Pain...tings. Si, si.” He moved towards the door and beckoned. “Come. Come. I show you.”

  The Art Supplies shop was a mere three minutes walk. Bernardo insisted on coming in with her and delivered an official-sounding instruction to the bemused elderly shop owner. Genie, once again, heard the immortal words, “La Signorina di Signor Lorenzo.” With that, the owner nodded at Genie, kissed her hand.

  “I must leave you now,” Bernardo said. “I have many criminals to catch.” He marched out of the shop.

  Genie felt embarrassed when, after Bernardo's intense machinations, all she wanted was a drawing pad, some suitable pencils, and an eraser. She was also embarrassed when the owner tried to waive the charge. However, she insisted and paid him what he asked. Even then she was certain he undercharged her. But, at least, she felt she'd managed a small victory.

  “Let's see if this'll get you started painting again, Lorenzo Calderone,” she said, making her way to the rink for a cup of coffee and to catch up on the local gossip with her new friends.

  Chapter Thirty

  That same evening, Genie initiated her pla
n. Sitting in front of the log fire after dinner, she put pencil to her new pad.

  “What are you doing?” Lorenzo asked.

  “Drawing.” She looked up at Lorenzo for a second and then added a few lines to those already scattered over the page.

  “I didn't know you could draw.”

  “I don't know, either,” Genie said. “I thought that since I'm in the home of an artist, I'd better do as artists do.”

  Lorenzo laughed. “Let me see how you're getting on.”

  “Ah-ah. Not yet. Wait until it's finished.” She glanced at him again and held up her pencil vertically and squinted at it, and Lorenzo beyond, through one eye. She'd seen artists do it on TV. What she was supposed to achieve by it, she had no idea, but, it looked professional - sort of.

  “You're drawing me?”

  “Yep.”

  “Haven't you had enough of me? You have worn out your camera taking so many photographs.” He lounged back and stretched out his legs. “And now, a drawing of me. I think you will wear me out, too.”

  Continuing to work and already struggling to create a face that looked like a face, let alone Lorenzo's face, she said, “I was inspired by your paintings.”

  “Thank you. I will wait to see how inspired you are.”

  “If I get it wrong, will you promise not to laugh?”

  “I promise,” he said, a smile already beginning to form.

  “Your mouth twitched,” Genie said, frowning to show her disapproval.

  “Vero? Perhaps I am nervous.”

  Half an hour later, Genie had produced a sketch of something like a face. As for being a likeness of Lorenzo's face, however... Drawing was a lot harder than she thought it would be. Somewhat embarrassed, she shuffled across the couch to show Lorenzo.

  “Interesting,” he said.

  “There's no need to humour me, Lorenzo,” Genie said. “It's a mess, and we both know it.”

  “A little bit. But it can be recovered.”

  He beckoned for Genie to hand over the pencil and eraser and went to work on the drawing. He re-shaped the features deftly, adding shading to the facial contours here and there to bring the face to life.

  But the expression on Lorenzo's living face fascinated Genie even more. He focused on his pencil work with an intensity that should have burned a hole in the pad. He was totally isolated from the rest of the world - at one with the image taking form on the paper. This was Lorenzo Calderone, the artist.

  “There,” Lorenzo said, breaking into her reverie. He held the pad out at arm's length for Genie and him to see.

  “You devil. That's me,” Genie said, giving him a playful punch on his arm. “You ruined my beautiful drawing of you and turned it into me.”

  “I couldn't see me. Your face is the only one here for me to draw.”

  “Very funny.”

  Lorenzo gave her a wide grin and handed her the pad.

  “It's incredible,” Genie said, studying the drawing. “I don't know how you do it.”

  “I'm glad you like it,” he said.

  “You have a special gift, Lorenzo.” She rested the pad carefully on her lap and continued to hold it with both hands.

  “You have too. I've seen you working with your camera.”

  “It's not the same. I point the camera and capture and image with a single click.”

  “So I've noticed - over and over again.”

  “You start with a blank sheet, a pencil and a paintbrush, and use your skill to capture an image from nothing. You have a special gift.”

  Lorenzo smiled. “You flatter me too much.”

  “Will you do me a favour, Lorenzo?” She shifted her body slightly to break contact.

  “Of course.”

  “Will you draw Domino for me?”

  He furrowed his brow. “Domino?”

  “You can draw dogs, can't you?”

  “Well, yes.”

  “I'd like it very much. It's something I can keep - to remind me - not that I'll ever forget. As a memento, then” Genie risked all by engaging him with a steady gaze - adding an extra bonus of wide-eyed innocence for good measure.

  “Okay,” he said, “Let's see what I can do.”

  “Thank you,” she said, feeling heartened that her plan was beginning to work.

  The sketch took a mere fifteen minutes. Throughout the exercise, Lorenzo kept up a running commentary to explain what he was doing, “In case you decide to draw me again,” he said. “I'd like it to look like me next time.”

  For Genie, it was a sketching lesson from a master.

  At the end of it all, the pad held an image of Domino that was equally as realistic as one of Genie's photographs.

  She studied the drawing for a few seconds, then in fun, she showed it to Domino.” “Look Dom. This is you. What d'you think?”

  His extended groan sounded not unlike that made by human pretending embarrassment - while being secretly delighted - when seeing their own photographed image.

  “Thank you, Lorenzo.” She gave a short laugh. “Should you sign it, or something?”

  “You want my autograph now?”

  “Well, when you become famous, it could be worth a lot of money.”

  “Now you want me to make you a fortune?”

  “I wouldn't sell it, of course.” She handed the pad back with a pencil. “But I will brag about it.”

  He laughed and scrawled his signature across the bottom.

  Genie touched his signature with her fingers, love swelling her heart. “I'll never sell it, Lorenzo,” she repeated.

  “Okay.”

  “Will you ever paint again?”

  “É difficile.”

  She held his gaze. “All these weeks when I didn't have my camera, I couldn't wait to get back to taking pictures. Don't you feel like that sometimes?”

  “You ask too many questions, Genie.”

  “I seem to remember when the reverse was true.”

  He snorted. “Vero. And you didn’t answer my questions either.”

  They both laughed and then fell into a comfortable silence.

  After a few seconds, Genie began to sense that her plan was in danger of falling apart. It needed another boost. “Lorenzo,” she said, “when I look at these two drawings, and remember the paintings in your studio, I just think it'd be a shame if you never painted again.”

  “I'm sure the world will survive.”

  “But it will not be as beautiful.”

  “That's a nice thing to say, Genie but, I'm not sure it's true.” He frowned and stared at the fire.

  Genie's heart sank as she watched Lorenzo withdraw within himself. She'd seen this before and knew what it meant.

  Anna

  “She was...my life,” Lorenzo said in almost a whisper.

  Genie opened her mouth to respond, but held back. What could she say anyway? He'd now brought Anna here. She - Genie Hamilton had caused it. Better to remain silent.

  “Anna was the inspiration behind my paintbrush.” His lengthy pause filled the room with a heavy sadness. “With her, it was a close to perfect as it could be.”

  Genie's heart shrank. How could she ever get close to perfect? It was such a high standard.

  Suddenly he looked towards Genie but she could see that he was staring into the middle distance. He was looking but not really seeing. “I loved her from the moment I saw her.”

  The romantic in Genie thought it that was wonderful. The love for Lorenzo in her, she recognized, would definitely have to remain unrequited.

  “When she died,” Lorenzo continued, “everything died with her.” He flicked his head in the general direction of the studio. “I painted her portrait as a way of keeping her alive.” A frown formed. “I did not have the strength to pick up a brush ever since.”

  At that moment, Genie realized she had her answer. He would never paint again. Anna took his inspiration with her.

  He certainly wouldn't paint for her - Genie Hamilton. The memory of Anna was too strong. />
  Genie loved him for his loyalty.

  She loved him for the love that he had - that he held on to.

  Nevertheless, she began to sink into a vast chasm of emptiness. She'd known all along that Anna was still a giant in Lorenzo's mind and heart. He had shown it in so many ways. She'd tried to ignore it - and, to her shame - deep down, she'd even wished to supplant her.

  Now it was clear. Anna would always be here. No one, or nothing, would supplant her. Lorenzo carried her with him all the time.

  True, there had been moments - wonderful moments. She had felt a passion in his kiss that was real and exciting. Was it a moment of uncontrolled desire? Was it just because she - Genie Hamilton - was there?

  Perhaps, in his imagination, he was kissing Anna?

  Could she have been the ghost of Anna he held in his arms on the ice?

  Genie's sense of loss was profound. How could she think of remaining with Lorenzo and 'it be as perfect as it could be'? How could she even begin to compete with a dead woman on such a high pedestal? Lorenzo had practically elevated her to sainthood.

  Saint Anna vs. plain old Genie Hamilton.

  No contest.

  It wouldn't work.

  Abruptly, Lorenzo snapped out of his reverie. “I'm sorry Genie. I should not have burdened you with my self-pity.”

  “Why not?” She leaned forward and caressed Domino's ear to prevent Lorenzo seeing the sadness in her eyes. “We're friends - you and I. You can say what you like to a friend.”

  The St. Bernard lifted his head and pressed it against her hand in delight. He followed it with a snuffly groan of pleasure.

  “This is your gift, Genie,” he said. “Helping people to open themselves. I've never talked to anybody like that before - about Anna.” Pausing, he frowned. “Catartico...eme...cathartic - is that the right word.”

  “Yes.”

  “Si. It was a cathartic.” He nodded to confirm. “To put it outside of me. It has been inside for too long. Si. Cathartic.” He nodded again.

  Genie responded with a nod of her own and raised a smile. It was not a very good smile.

  Lorenzo lurched to his feet. “I think I'd like an espresso before I go to bed. Shall I get one for you?”

  “No thanks, Lorenzo. I'm fine.” She eased herself out of the chair. “I'm ready to put the day behind me too. One of your espressos may cause me to extend it more than I want.”