Pesto and Potholes

by Baganz, Susan M. ;

  “’Twould be most appreciated.”

  Tony winked. “As you wish.” Off he went to procure her a glass of the punch served at the end of the room.

  When he returned, she complimented him. “I didn’t know what to expect, Tony, but you look superb.” She surprised him by pushing up on her tiptoes and purring in his ear. “Oh, and the smell of garlic. Delicious!” She licked her lips, and Tony turned red.

  “I must say, I’ve never seen a more beautiful princess. I only wish I could whisk you away.”

  “And where you would whisk me to, my pirate?”

  “A magical land where there is only love and laughter.” His arm extended out in dramatic fashion.

  Renata’s smiled faded. “I only know of one place, my pirate, and you are unable to whisk me there.”

  “You have spoken true, milady. One such as I reaches high to seek your favor.” Tony grinned but looked at her seriously and spoke in a soft voice. “But trust me, milady, you are temptation enough for any man to seek to do brave deeds.”

  Now it was Renata’s turn to blush.

  The unmasking, for those who wore them, was an hour later, although there were few surprises. They ate some snacks, and music played in the background. Soon people sat to watch a short video on masks, how people all wear them, and how important it was in their lives to have people in which there are no such barriers. The video went on to explain how Christ’s death on the cross removed the veil, or mask, that separated sinful man from their Creator God. Renata thought it had a wonderful message and prayed those there who did not know Christ would drop the mask of their pride to accept Him as a real and personal friend. She glanced over at Tony and remembered Bryan’s anger and how that man had kept a mask up, even with his best friend. How painful that must be for Tony to realize. She prayed for him.

  * * *

  Tony sensed her gaze on him long before he let her know it. How did he luck out to have such a beauty by his side? He could hardly believe she chose to be by him at these gatherings, even though she was now acquainted with a variety of men there. They were not exclusively dating, but most people considered them “an item,” and men did not approach her for anything more than casual acquaintance. He was pleased that this most beautiful princess would choose a rogue like him.

  Later, Tony walked Renata out to her car. She looked less like a princess with her winter coat on, as the evening was colder than normal for this time of year.

  “I had fun tonight, Tony.”

  “Me too. Having a gorgeous woman by my side sweetened the evening for me.”

  “Ah, but a pirate has pillaged my heart. What choice did I have?”

  “One always has choices, princess. I’m glad you have a liking for pirates.”

  “Silly man.”

  “Beautiful woman.” He saw her breath catch.

  He leaned in toward her and saw her eyes widen.

  She is afraid. What did I do wrong now?

  His eyes searched hers for answers, but came up empty. He leaned down, lifted her arm, and kissed the back of her gloved hand. She relaxed.

  “Good night, Renata.” He opened her door to help her up into the truck and arrange her dress.

  “Good night, Tony.”

  He watched her leave, feeling much like Westley must have when they had snatched his princess from him. What would it take before she trusted him enough to allow a kiss on those delectable lips? He shook his head and headed for his car.

  An hour later, as Tony reclined in his bed to go to sleep, his phone beeped. It was a text from Renata.

  Edith would have thot you a ninja. Good thing you didn’t bring me home 2nite. You would have lost one of your fans, Mr. Studmuffin.

  Tony laughed aloud.

  CHAPTER TEN

  Tony didn’t want to go to Bryan’s funeral, but years of friendship taunted him. Ginger had said she would work for him, as it would be easier to cook for hundreds than to satisfy the various tastes of six children aged two to eleven. Tony gave in and left at five o’clock, as the dinner shift was ready. He ran home to change into his suit and headed off to the funeral home. Pastor Dan met him there.

  Tony had not attended many funerals. The last one he remembered was for his brother, Bertie. When he walked in to the funeral home, he was as lost as that six-year-old little boy had been. This time he didn’t have his mother’s skirt to cling to. He was an adult now. He found Dan, and together they went to offer their condolences to Bryan’s parents. Tony had run tame at Bryan’s house in their later teen years, and when his mother saw him, she grabbed him and burst into tears. He held her and didn’t know what to do. Finally, Mr. Torquist disengaged her.

  “Son, thank you for coming. You always were Bryan’s best friend. It was a tragic thing that happened to bring us to this point. Having you here brings comfort.”

  “Thank you, Mr. Torquist. Bryan and I were friends for too long to spurn him now. May I introduce Pastor Dan Wink from Orchard Hill Church? Bryan and I attended a lot of gatherings of young people at the church with Pastor Dan.”

  “Nice to meet you, Pastor Wink. Thank you for coming.”

  “We are sorry for your loss, Mr. and Mrs. Torquist.”

  They moved on toward the casket where Bryan was laid out in his favorite shirt, jeans, and leather jacket. Tony gave a wry smile. He was glad Bryan’s family hadn’t dressed up his friend to make him more respectable than he had ever been in real life. Bryan had made Harleys and lived in his jeans. It seemed only fitting he would be buried in them. It seemed weird to see his friend lying there, peaceful, when their last scenes together had involved such rage and violence. He wished he knew what had happened to his friend.

  Was there anything I could have done, had I known the path he was taking?

  Dan put his hand on Tony’s back, and they went to sit down for the service. The entire event of the small memorial given was without hope and did not do a thing to indicate the man who occupied a box of wood. The generic service saddened Tony. When the ceremony was over, Tony and Dan walked out to their cars.

  “Closure is good, Tony.”

  “I still wish I understood why. What happened to cause him to do the things he did? That was not the person I knew, the person I went to youth group with.”

  “Don’t let the questions plague you. There is nothing you can do about them now.”

  “I know. Thanks for coming with me, Dan.”

  “Not a problem. Bryan was someone I cared about too. I’m sad he died as he did, angry with God and with his friends. His last weeks had to have been miserable.”

  “It’s over now.”

  “Good night, Tony.”

  “Thanks again, see ya tomorrow.”

  The two men parted, and Tony drove as if on automatic pilot to the restaurant. He didn’t want to go home or be alone with his thoughts. He relieved Ginger and finished out the evening at De Luca’s.

  * * *

  November 2009

  Renata looked at the sweet blue invitation in her hand. Gabrielle and Paul had given it to her at church. They had invited her to come to celebrate Jacob’s first birthday this coming Thursday evening with family and friends. One year old. Her heart froze. Yet how could she refuse to go to their celebration? Gabby had become a good friend, and Renata knew at some point she was going to have to learn to be comfortable around young children again. She picked up the phone and accepted the invitation.

  Tuesday night, after work, Renata stopped over at the baby store at Northridge Mall. She had avoided the baby food and diaper aisle at the grocery store for over a year. Now she was in an entire store dedicated to little ones.

  I can do this. I can do this. It’s only a little gift for a one-year-old boy. I can handle this.

  She wandered up and down rows of toys before finally selecting one that looked like fun. A musical cube. She was enchanted by the tinny music and by the adding and subtracting instruments. Good. It had educational benefits as well. She made her purchase and went
home to wrap it.

  At home, with the baby blue paper before her and the gift sitting in the center, the tears came. This should have been her time to plan such a party and purchase gifts for her little girl. Oh, how am I going to do this? She pulled paper over, matched it, and taped amidst tears and lost dreams. She placed a bow on the gift and said a brief prayer to God to take care of her lost baby girl.

  * * *

  Thursday evening, Tony arrived to pick up Renata to take her to Gabby’s house. She was silent and withdrawn, and he wasn’t sure what to say. Maybe she was nervous about being with the entire family? He smiled at her as he helped her out of the car and put his arm around her waist as he led her up the walk. He was grateful she let him embrace her. He remembered that first night and how she had recoiled at the mildest touch. They had come a long way in two months.

  He heard her muttering to herself: “You can do this. Suck it up, you can do this.”

  “Do what, Ren?”

  “What?” She looked at him as if surprised to see him there beside her. “Nothing, giving myself a little pep talk, that’s all.” Her smile was weak.

  “There’s nothing to be afraid of, Ren.”

  “That’d be where you are wrong.”

  Her words surprised him.

  Lord, how else has she been hurt that I don’t know about?

  They were welcomed into the house by Paul, who took their coats and hung them up. Renata had a larger purse with her tonight, and she chose to keep it with her. Tony noticed how she hugged the bag to her stomach like a shield. She swallowed hard, and he could see her rapid pulse at the base of her throat. Concerned, he went to get her a glass of punch and brought her to a loveseat where they could sit together and watch the chaos around them.

  Jacob had learned to walk. His blond hair, bright brown eyes, and huge grin were enchanting. All his aunts and uncles were trying to get him to come to them, and the little boy was confused at hearing his name coming from all directions. Tony laughed as he watched the nieces and nephews encourage their cousin. It was delightful pandemonium. His family. He was grateful Alexandr worked for him tonight so he could share this with time with Renata.

  Renata sat still next to him. Tension radiated from her. He reached over to place a hand on her knee and give her a squeeze. When he looked at her face, he saw a deadness in her eyes, similar to what he had seen on the night Bryan had attacked her. Something was definitely wrong. He reached over, took her glass, set it on a side table and rose to help her up.

  “Come.” She looked at him as if she’d forgotten he was there. She rose and allowed him to lead her.

  “Renata, I’m glad you could join us.” Gabby was her usual exuberant self until she saw Tony’s motion for her to stop.

  “Where can we go? She needs a few moments—”

  “Oh, um, how about the study down the hall?”

  “Thanks, Gabby.”

  Tony led Renata gently into a darkened room, shutting the door behind them. He escorted her over to a small gas fireplace and lowered her into an overstuffed leather chair. She sat stiffly in the chair as he went to turn on the gas fireplace and flicked on a few lights. Looking back at Ren, he noted a tear running down her cheek.

  “Come on, Ren. What’s wrong?”

  She startled and gazed at him for a moment before she pulled out a small scrapbook from her purse. It had a pink and lavender cover tied with a yellow ribbon. In slow motion, she handed it to him. Puzzled, he took it and sat in the chair across from her. “Do you want me to open this?”

  She nodded.

  Tony lifted the cover to read the dedication on the first page.

  To my little angel. May I never forget you. Save a place in heaven for me. Your mommy.

  He flipped to the next two pages and saw pictures of Renata dated the previous year. Three months pregnant. She was gorgeous. Fourth months, he saw a baby bump. Fifth month, an ultrasound photo. A baby girl. He flipped the page to see a picture of Renata with a puffy face, all black and blue, eyes swollen shut. Across from that were hospital bands for a maternity ward. He looked up at Renata who gazed at the fireplace, saying nothing. He flipped again to see a picture of a tiny baby girl, held in a hand. The date was August 2008. There was a page of narrative.

  The Lord gave me this little life. My daughter, Angela Rosalind Blake. She was wanted by me, and murdered by her father, Michael Blake. Her due date was November 5, 2008. She was born dead on August 7, 2008. May her soul rest in peace in the arms of our Savior.

  That was it. No more pages. Tony looked up, and Renata stared back at him. Finally, she spoke. “This is the anniversary of her due date. She would have been Jacob’s age.” Renata said the words in a flat, emotionless voice.

  “I’m sorry, Ren. I didn’t know.”

  “I need to tell you my monster story.”

  “I’m listening.” He closed the scrapbook and handed it back to her.

  She clasped the book to her chest, took a deep breath, and let out a sigh. “I fell in love with Mick in college, and my family adored him. Good Catholic boy, nice family. Good job. It appeared my relationship with Mick was the only thing I ever did right. I was a good Catholic girl too. I wanted to be a virgin on my wedding night. Mick raped me the right after I accepted his marriage proposal.” She paused, taking a deep breath. “What kind of woman marries the guy who rapes her? I felt I had to. I needed him. He had already taken my virginity. As damaged goods, I had nothing else to offer any other man. No one would believe me anyway. ‘Everyone has sex before marriage, what’s the big deal?’ he would tell me.” She stood up and paced. “Well, it was a big deal to me.”

  “It didn’t stop there, either. We married and I thought, naively, things would get better. They didn’t. He was verbally and sexually abusive. I cannot speak of the horrors he put me through. He would say the most awful things in private, but acted a charming and doting husband when his friends or our families were around.” She cried as she put a fist in her mouth. Tears streamed down her face. “He financially tied things up. I was at his mercy. My family thought he was wonderful and heaped more abuse on me if I dared to complain. I thought it couldn’t get any worse.

  “But it did.

  “Stephanie visited and shared with me about Christ. I accepted Him as my Lord and Savior and started attending a good Christian church, or so I thought. It was a small church. I went to the pastor to tell him about my marriage struggles, and he told me I needed to stay and submit to my husband in order to win him to Christ. My husband hated my new faith and forbade me to go to church. I read my Bible when he wasn’t around and listened to Christian radio for my teaching and worship while he was at work. I was all alone. The church abandoned me. I was shunned by my family. I still believed God, at least, saw and cared.”

  Tony shook his head. This was the stuff of fiction, wasn’t it? This couldn’t be someone’s real life. Her pain weighed down his heart.

  “My family wouldn’t help me. The church wouldn’t help me, and Stephanie was in Milwaukee. She knew what was going on and encouraged me to leave, to come live with her. But I had nothing. No money to leave with. No resources to file for divorce. I was trapped and helpless. I wanted to die. Mick told me if I ever left him, he would hunt me down and kill me. I believed him.

  “I became pregnant. Mick was not pleased. Did you notice all those pictures show me with long sleeves? Stephanie took the pics when she would come up to visit me once a month. Whenever I went out in public, I had to cover my bruises.” She gave a short laugh. “Even now, I have a hard time wearing anything that shows my arms or even my neck. You’ve noticed I wear scarves and turtlenecks a lot.” She shook her head. “I don’t even have anything to hide anymore but the scars.”

  Renata stopped pacing and flipped the book open to the ultrasound picture. “A girl. I was excited. I was going to have a little girl. My parents hated us girls. Mick was a misogynist himself. My younger sister committed suicide and left a note about incest by an uncle. Ro
sa would be twenty-one now if she had lived.” Renata touched the picture, and her voice softened. “But I found out I was having a girl, and I was thrilled. Mick was furious when I told him. He beat me like I had never been beaten before. Kicked me in the stomach, loosened my teeth, broke ribs, and damaged my spine. And the words. The words hurt more than anything. He left me lying there in my own blood to go hunting with his buddies up North.

  “Somehow I managed to get to a phone and dial 911 and was taken to the hospital. I went into labor, and Angela was stillborn. So tiny. Any hopes and dreams I had crashed with her death. I filed assault and murder charges against my husband with the encouragement of the social worker at the hospital. My family was furious. His family blamed the abuse on me. Somehow I had deserved to be treated that way.” She gave a disgusted laugh and closed the scrapbook, clasping it tightly to her chest.

  “I was in the hospital for over a week due to complications from the birth and my injuries. I wanted to die and be with my little girl. Anything to escape the nightmare in which I lived.” She glanced at Tony. He watched her take a deep breath and continue. “Before I got out of the hospital, the news came that Mick had been killed in an accidental shooting. Too much beer and not wearing his orange. He died instantly.

  “You would think that would be the end, right? Wrong. His family and my family were furious that I had accused him and soon suspicion fell on me. Yes, me. They fingered me for the murder. How could I murder my husband? I was in the hospital the entire time. I had no financial resources of my own to hire someone. It was a stupid, drunken accident and nothing more. It took several weeks for the detectives and insurance to clear my name. Neither of our families, though, ever agreed to exonerate me. In their minds, I’m the murderer and no proof otherwise will make them believe differently.

  “There you have it, Tony, the unvarnished, brutal reality of the woman who stands before you now. I am a tortured, wounded widow, with empty arms that ache for the child taken from me. A woman so brutally abused by men, I wonder whether I would ever be able to marry another. Who would have me? I’m defective and damaged goods in every way.” At this, Renata, fell to her knees on the rug, dropped the scrapbook, covered her face with her hands, and sobbed.