Love Finds Its Pocket

by Mary Scarpelli

  Monica tagged one piece to be given to Toni and Kat – the idiom of the piece was uncharacteristic of anything else she’d ever painted; the aesthetic, being evocative of her conception of pure love. The texture, contrast, color choices and juxtaposition of varying perspectives produced a reaction in her that unearthed the envy she’d been holding onto about people who seemed to find it so easy to let down their guards, to let go of whatever past suffering they’d encountered and live in love.

  Her bitterness and profound sense of isolation were so central to her core that any momentary elation she’d been lucky enough to experience from selling her work was as ephemeral as to be indistinguishable from a puff of air. Nothing thus far had been successful in keeping her from falling away and she knew that nothing ever could.

  ‘Doomed: From Womb to Tomb’ is what she titled the piece although it spoke to something quite different; she trusted that Kat would understand the subtext: shrewd, insightful, loyal Kat. Monica was giving Kat and Toni her depiction of the love she thought they shared. They would never know how deeply she cried the entire time she was painting it, lamenting the loss of what could have been hers had life not soured her so early on. She knew they would display it prominently and appreciate it with hearts opened wide, suspecting it had been made with the last vestiges of beauty and peace that she possessed. They would be humbled every time they thought about the painting and how it was imbued with the love that she felt for them.

  Monica resented the necessity of maintaining such a defensive posture – it had been crafted out of an initial instinct to survive, fortified during her adolescence, providing more durable protection than any ancient city gates ever could have; Toni tried so desperately to keep her from succumbing to her all-encompassing depressions, by giving her undivided love and attention but nothing was or ever could have been enough.

  With whatever humanity remained in her reserve, Monica planned her death so that it would inflict the least disruption to the lives of the people that had given her so much love – love that she was ultimately unable to appreciate or reciprocate but felt nonetheless. Her diligent planning efforts left her feeling empowered, the satisfaction of no longer having to endure the torture of living, a relief.

  Regardless of Monica’s efforts to improve her condition by embracing and diligently working through of a multitude of therapies, not one method ever resonated with her; she would always remain that terrified child, angry and resentful that her mother had walked away from her simply because she wanted to pursue a more interesting life, free from the constant demands of a child, perplexed as she was that her mother had not sought out an abortion, which would have saved them all from living in misery. Monica had never even considered the possibility of herself having children, cynically labeling the need to breed as superfluous nonsense in an already overcrowded world. She held the entire concept of child-rearing as an utterly contemptible exercise in narcissism.

  Despite her repulsion toward breeding, within the beating heart of every woman resides a creative imperative; alas, her overcompensation at not having created life was to feel an odd sense of satisfaction that she was producing a durable legacy in the form of art. Giving her prized piece to Toni and Kat would be her way of apologizing for high-velocity hurling her angst at them and nearly demanding that she be loved without any possibility of reciprocity, being so unsustainably problematic and putting them, Toni especially, through hell.

  Neither Richard nor Desmond had any desire to sell her work; she had advised them of several new pieces that purportedly spoke to an inner calm, requesting that they retain those for their private collection. She knew they would be able to appreciate the aesthetic quality better than anyone else. They were able to understand, intrinsically, how relieved she was to be implementing her plan and how it was the best decision for all parties; the depth of her gratitude, once they finally realized that fleeting indications of calm and clarity were not enough to sustain a person indefinitely, was profoundly felt. She didn’t want them to feel remorse or regret, rather a sense of peace on her behalf.

  She placed one fairly obvious clue in the bottom left corner of her favorite piece that she knew would make her point, just in case they were too sick with grief to connect the dots without the aid of a gentle shove.

  Richard and Desmond were already on a plane heading east, scheduled to arrive late in the evening hours. They held hands, fighting back tears for the entire duration of the flight as they discussed everything and anything without depth of content.

  Monica sat back and smoked a few bowls of her finest designer weed, which she laced with heroin to help dull the ache in her pounding temples. No one lives forever, she mused aloud and this was as good a time as any to make her exit, just shy of forty but long past a palatable expiration date. Her plan would be set in motion the following day.

  ******

  “Hey, babe? Have a minute?”

  Kat was in the kitchen hoping to concoct an edible delicacy for their evening meal, both having become disappointed by the loss of their two favorite neighborhood eateries, shuttered due to a flailing economy; the fare at their replacements was inedible, which ensured they too would eventually suffer the same fate. As such, they decided that rather than rush to seek out new establishments from which to order or go out and dine, they should simply increase the frequency with which they prepared meals at home. Healthier and hopefully more personally gratifying is how she presented it to Toni.

  Toni loved to cook; ironically, employing a methodical process as her baseline approach allowed her to feel comfortable in bending the rules to express creative inclinations she hadn’t realized she possessed. She’d been spending so many late nights at the office that she barely had time to prepare a meal let alone have the energy to chew, swallow and digest it once it was ready. However, they were intent on starting a new trend of healthier living and Kat thought that the team sport of food preparation would draw them even closer together.

  “’Sup, Kat?” Toni croaked through an accumulation of phlegm.

  She had inadvertently taken a catnap after having sat down on the sofa and closed her eyes for what seemed like mere seconds. Apparently, the latest mathematical formula conclusively proved that hunger plus exhaustion equaled rapid onset narcolepsy.

  “I’d like to make a quick sauce for tonight’s dinner but I need your help. What do you think should be added?” Kat was looking through the pantry. As she spoke she could feel Toni’s eyes feasting on her ass.

  “There’s no recipe on my ass, my love. Can you please keep your mind on dinner?”

  “Thought I was. But, well, okay let’s see. Ah-ha! See those beautiful tomatoes sitting over there, rotting away in that basket? They’re really ripe so let’s use them; flavorful stuff, you know? I’ll dice some onions and prep a few garlic bulbs. Do you know where the garlic press is? Great, thanks. Oh, do we have any fresh basil? Excellent, we can use that too. Oregano is essential and if you don’t mind, I’d like to add half a can of tomato paste; we have the one that comes with garlic and basil so the flavors will be complimentary.”

  Toni set up all of the ingredients like soldiers ready for battle. She pulled out the extra virgin olive oil that she loved, so flavorful and robust, perfect for sautéing although she was careful not to let it overheat in the skillet. Once everyone was in the pool, she turned on the flame to bring a pot of water to a boil.

  “You probably want to eat that spinach pasta you picked up at Dean & DeLuca, right? Aech... Okay fine, but I can’t promise you it won’t make the sauce taste like shit.” Toni gave in without a fight although she preferred the durum wheat semolina variety of pasta, but since they would never learn what works and what doesn’t unless they experimented, she measured out two cups of the spinach pasta, the one that had been fashioned into little corkscrews, and shot Kat a look that said ‘you’ll be treating me to dinner if this tastes like crud’.

  “I also picked-up some porcini mushrooms and the freshest, most
thinly sliced prosciutto imaginable; nearly translucent. Thumbs up?” Kat was clearly enjoying herself. She and Toni moved smoothly around their galley kitchen like ballroom dancers perfecting their routine.

  “Oh, maybe that packet of prosciutto has a few less slices than it did this morning – sorry babe, but yeah, they would taste great wrapped around some melon wedges.

  “I’ll slice up the mushrooms and sauté them separately in olive oil. Come to think of it, let’s sauté them together with the onions and garlic, then we can add everything together to absorb each other’s flavors after they’ve had a chance to cook separately for awhile.” Toni was in the zone and clearly enjoying the proceedings.

  “You mean like us?” Kat walked by and kissed her deeply, yet gently on the neck – at the exact location in which Toni sported a massive, super-sensitive erogenous zone. She nearly fell to her knees, but then regrouped quickly, promising to remind Kat post-dinner that she had some unfinished business to attend to.

  “Can you hand me the salt shaker? Thanks. Oh – since we’re having spinach pasta, we might as well have a spinach salad, mixed with red leaf if you don’t mind?” Toni and Kat silently agreed that Kat would prepare the salad plus the prosciutto and melon while Toni attended to the pasta, simmering tomato sauce and mushroom/onion/garlic concoction.

  The smells permeating throughout the apartment were divine, forcing a growl from their ravenous bellies. Toni poured the strained pasta into the skillet containing the mushrooms and onions, stirring gently, folding the contents until she saw full saturation. She then relocated the entire contents of that skillet to join the simmering tomatoes.

  Concurrent to dinner preparations, Toni had also cored and thinly sliced two apples, placing them in a pot along with a few tablespoons of sugar, brown and white, along with a generous helping of cinnamon and lemon juice and placed the mixture on simmer where it would remain until they were finished eating dinner. There was no time for her to prepare dough so she decided to use the ready-made package of puff pastry she had removed from the freezer earlier that day and placed into the refrigerator to thaw. In a pinch, one simply had to accept the need to employ and make do with prepared foods.

  Kat had already filled their water glasses and poured two fairly generous servings of their favorite Bordeaux blend and set the table. Her salad, as artistically rendered as Kat’s lovely mane, was colorful and enticing. Kat prepared her patented balsamic vinaigrette dressing, which sat, after having been lightly shaken, in a carafe awaiting its moment in the spotlight. The usual floral centerpiece lost its prominent display, having been usurped by the bowls of food.

  Kat reentered the apartment after having taken a quick trip to the basement to make a contribution to the compost bin – better there than in their garbage can where the probability of attracting all manner of uninvited vermin was fairly high, and smelled anew every aspect of the flavors in the meal they were about to devour. She looked over at a diligent Toni who was effecting the finishing touches on the evening’s meal. She smiled, taking in a deep, appreciative breath that she was able to live in the moment, so grateful to no longer have any worries about losing her love. She’d come so very close to having Toni ripped from her life forever that just the thought of how horribly corroded her heart would have become without Toni’s love brought about a spasm of unwelcomed shivers.

  Kat’s lips made one more appreciative grazing visitation directly onto Toni’s hot spot, her right hand moving slowly down between her legs, squeezing gently throughout her descent as a reminder of exactly what the second dessert would consist of.

  “Oh, god,” Toni moaned, as she paused to allow the full effect of Kat’s luxurious kiss on her sensitive neck and the intensity of sensations coursing through her body, to linger as long as possible.

  Unable to resist, she turned around and began kissing Kat in return, digging deeply into her lips and back, body tightening on the verge of orgasm. Kat pulled away and smiled, shaking her head in the negative, implying they would have to wait until after dinner, silently promising that she would make their patience well worth it. Toni was swooning with pleasure, her head swaying, her lips smiling sweetly, her eyelids having fallen to mere slits.

  They both drifted out of the kitchen, Toni’s knees still wobbly, carrying their pasta filled bowls to the table. An elation borne of mutual love had been building in them ever since moving in together, after realizing that their decision to cohabitate, albeit not perfect and at times overburdened with ceaseless external demands, was exactly right for them. Their love-making had taken on additional dimensions of depth: emotionally deeper, far more passionate with mind and body combined as one, so intensely pleasurable and immediate that at times they would just look at each other in amazement, brows furrowed as they tried to grasp what was happening to them.

  The intensity of their lovemaking continued to increase exponentially. They were amused by the thought that the pleasure they experienced might escalate to a point where one or both would stroke-out from extreme physical explosions. Even with the high probability of death-by-orgasm looming over them, they were thoroughly grateful to have had the presence of mind and maturity of heart to forgive and reconnect. They had agreed not to lament the years they spent apart but rather to live in the moment and enjoy every day of their future together.

  There they were, sitting across from each other, starting their meal, enjoying every bite while anticipating how wonderfully the evening would end. The excitation of expressing their love for each other as often and experimentally nuanced as either wished provided Kat with the variety of lovemaking she required but with the added benefit of having a partner whom she knew would always love her irrespective of a foul mood, a bad day, after the exchange of an angry word - whatever; nothing ever could create a lasting rift between them.

  Kat had previously discarded the possibility that the confluence of those qualities existed or was attainable in one person. She hadn’t met Toni until after she had already become disenchanted with the prospect of ever finding her true love, had resolved to stop trying to locate that elusive entity, having relegated that wish under the category of childish delusion; this was one instance in which she was happy to have been wrong. She paused mid bite, becoming overwhelmed with a depth of emotion, the experience of which she hoped would never become commonplace.

  Toni, she mused, was her soul mate; adorable, stable, passionate, loyal. For her, love was an expected quantity; she’d known it her entire life. The impact she felt from having found her true love wasn’t quite as intense as it was for Kat. She watched as a singularly focused Toni meticulously filled her salad bowl, placing it off to the side untouched; she preferred eating her salad last, referring to that course as the digestive equivalent of a roto-rooting device. Kat laughed with pure joy and resumed eating her meal.

  “This is delicious. The spinach pasta isn’t at all incompatible with the sauce,” Kat said in between bites.

  “Oh yes, absolutely divine. We’ll have to share this recipe with Antonia.”

  “It’s funny but by the time mom’s finished making her adjustments, it’ll taste even better. She’s like a food savant or something. You haven’t tasted her meatballs yet – they’re ridiculous; you’ll be totally blown away.

  “I think Marcella shares my mother’s nose for cooking. They both have this innate sense of what works with what. Neither one needs to follow a recipe.” Toni had to stop speaking as the food continued to beckon.

  “So then we should host a Mangiarmi food fest where we all take part in preparing a certain segment of the meal and then we can all sit down to enjoy it. Oohhh – we can all wear John Max tee-shirts, like we’re constructing the meal. I think your family would get a kick out of it,” Kat said in-between bites.

  “Oh no you don’t.”

  “Huh? Don’t what!”

  “They’re your family too, Kat. They just love you to death. So from now on let’s refer to them as our family, okay? They’d be really hurt if t
hey thought you were doing an arms-length thing with them, you know? They can be a bit much so I’m more than happy to share them,” Toni added.

  Kat smiled and continued, “Obviously, Marcella will be on dessert duty, and your grandparents should focus on bread – I could get fat eating nothing but their bread every day for the rest of my life and not care a whit.” Kat said.

  “Well, you would once your ass started to voice its complaint about the tightness of the pants you’re attempting to stuff it into...,” Toni raised her shoulders and allowed the sentence to finish itself.

  “You know my folks will want to host the party at their house. Ahhhh, don’t give me that face; it’s not like we have to go to fucking Idaho! Look, how about you, me, Gene and Marcella just rent a zip car or something and drive there – no public transportation required. We can start early on Saturday morning to try and avoid bridge traffic.” Toni returned her full attention to the pile of pasta and mushrooms gracing her fork, steadying it for landing.

  “I wouldn’t mind spending the night there.” She peeked up at Toni to gauge her reaction.

  Toni could be a rather loud, vocal comer but Kat looked forward to finding inventive ways in which to subdue her lover, keeping her mouth otherwise occupied. She was finding the thought of making love to Toni under her parent’s roof increasingly erotic.

  “I’m not sure how much privacy we’d have because of course Gene, Marcella and little Dylan would also want to stay. We could always shack-up with the grand-folks; they’re a little hard of hearing and slightly vision impaired, so...” Toni said to a tsk-tsk from Kat.

  Toni was less enamored by the prospect of being part of an extended family as perhaps she’d taken for granted being loved mightily by one her entire life. However, she agreed to coordinate everyone’s schedules and set the date. Kat was feeling light and loved.

  Toward the end of their first such ‘construction’ meal, Kat managed to get everyone’s buy-in to create a new tradition, which is how their food construction soirees became a regular occurrence, scheduled for every other Sunday at the Mangiarmi household, each meal becoming more elaborate, inventive and incredibly delicious. For Kat, having a loving family at the ready was a new and exciting experience and she intended to savor every moment of it.