Across The Pond, page 10
“You sure this is the collection you’re looking for?”
“Those Sorensens stole that collection from us! It’s ours! Have you forgotten?”
“But they’re gone!”
“Tchah!” the woman waves a hand at him as she takes a tentative sip of her tea. “The sins of the fathers and all that crap.”
“I’m still uncomfortable about all this,” he whines. “It just doesn’t feel right.”
“It’s not as if we’d be stealing! It’s just taking back what’s rightfully ours. What goes around comes around, you know?”
“But she’s got nothing to do with this!”
“She’s a Sorensen. That’s good enough for me. Payback’s a bitch, ain’t it? Tchah! Stop looking at me like that! No one has to get hurt, do they? The hell d’you think I am? A monster!? Sheesh!”
“You’re the one who talked about a Plan B,” he replies sullenly.
“Only if necessary,” she tuts at him, waving a finger before him. “Only if necessary. Now that we know it’s no longer in the house, we can chuck that out the window. How’s that? Feel better?”
“I guess.”
“There’s a good boy. I raised you right, didn’t I? Even after those Sorensens killed your ma and pa.”
He flinches.
“Yup. Don’t forget, boy. They did that. And they’re screaming for revenge, you know they are. What kind of a man doesn’t seek justice for something like that? How’s the house coming along, by the way?”
“It should be finished in about two more weeks.”
“That’s good. That’s good. She’ll be getting ready to leave soon after that.”
CHAPTER 6
~ Daniela
"Well, it's about bloody time! I was beginning to think you were turning into a carpet-muncher! Not that I'd love you any less if you did!" Angie cackles over the phone. "So my best mate's going on a date, at last! I'm so happy for you!"
"It's not a date!" I insist weakly. "He's just going to show me around, is all!"
"Is he bringing his daughter along?"
"Well, no. I don't think so. Not that I'd mind."
"Hah! Then it's a date, alright! I'm so glad you're moving on, at last. Wish you did this sooner. Ooh, a Latino! You're so lucky. I hear those men are extremely passionate!"
"He's not my boyfriend, Angie!"
"Have you two at least had sex?"
"No!"
"But do you want to have sex?"
I am about to deny it indignantly, but what comes out is a squawk, followed by giggles. Laughter seems to come to me more easily now, and I like it.
"I thought as much. Best to grab him before I come over there and take him for myself, luv. Seriously, though. You really like him?"
That's my Angie. Small on the small talk and quick to go for the jugular.
"I do. The physical aside, he's very professional, very hard working, not at all under his mother's thumb, a devoted father, and he's very kind. And hot."
"Look, my advice is this: just go out and have fun. Don't over- analyze anything. That's always been your problem, luv. You are Ms. Cerebral Girl."
"Am not!"
"Are, too! Look, don't take it the wrong way, yeah? Just go out with this guy, have fun, and live in the moment. Don't go knocking yourself over the head about whether what he says or does means anything, or if you should let yourself go with this guy or not. Which is not to say don't trust your instincts.
"If he turns out to be a creep, then back off. Scream for help, if you have to. But if it seems to be going well, then relax and enjoy the moment, yeah? Worry about tomorrow when it comes, is all I'm saying. Will you at least promise me that? Or promise me that you'll at least try?"
"Of course, I will. And he's no creep, Angie. He takes good care of his men. But you're right. I'll be leaving in a few more weeks, yeah? So why worry about what it all means? I understand, oh great guru."
"Just how many more weeks are we talking about here, exactly?"
"Rob thinks it should be finished in about two more weeks..."
"Meaning another month."
"Ever the pessimist, eh, Ms. Lawyer?"
"I said it before and I'll say it again: the rule of thumb when it comes to contractors is to take whatever estimate they give you and double it. That's for the good ones. As to the bad, the equation goes up exponentially."
"At this point, I wouldn't mind if it took longer!"
"I'm sure! So when's this date, Danny?"
"Now. I'm dressing up as we speak. He should be here soon."
"That I would keep a woman from her pre-mating rituals, perish the thought!”
“Pre-mating!? When was the last time you had any yourself, huh?”
“Speaking of which, I have to go off and perish someone with the sword of justice. Talk to you soon. Ta!"
And she hangs up, as usual.
Ooh! The door! My, he's early. I hope it means he's as eager for this... date(?) as I am. I run to the foyer and open the door, trying hard to tone down the grin that's plastered itself on my face since I woke up this morning.
But the man standing at the door isn’t him. In fact, although I’ve known this man for a number of years, his being here is so out of place that it takes a while for my mind to wrap itself around the thought.
“Danny,” he says with a weak smile, holding up a bouquet of flowers. “I’m sorry I didn’t call first. I tried to ask Angie for your number, but she hung up on me.”
“Damien!” I gasp, my mind still reeling at the sight of him standing there. I was so happy and excited to see Rob. Instead, I get this: a heart attack waiting to happen. “The hell are you doing here!?”
“Ah. I see you’re not too happy to see me. Look...”
“I don’t want to look,” I say as anger starts to build up in me. “Where’s your mother, anyway? Did she drive you over?” but I see the taxi pulled up on the curb before my house. Besides the driver, there’s no one else in it.
“Danny, that’s not fair...”
“I don’t give a rat’s ass about ‘fair!’” I yell at him. “I asked you again: what the bloody hell are you doing here!?”
The look he gives me is one of hurt, but instead of making me back down like it usually did, it only makes me angrier. A part of me is surprised at this vehemence of mine. I have never let myself be angry at him, always blaming myself or his mother.
In a flash, I realize that I’ve been angry at him all these years, but have refused to acknowledge that fact. That I have preferred to direct that anger at his family instead of at him. At myself, instead of at him.
Even when we divorced, I placed the blame squarely on his mother’s shoulders. No wonder that woman never liked me.
I feel a weight lift itself off of me at the realization of my stupidity, my self-imposed blindness all these years. I look at the boy who only grew up in terms of years, but never really became a man, and recognize the person I once fell in love with. Yes, I truly loved him once. He’s still there, somewhere, as is my love for him.
I realize that somewhere along the way, however, I’ve changed. And judging by those puppy dog eyes of his, he hasn’t. He is expecting me to go “awwuugh, come here, it’s alright!” Even the flowers are part of the same old game.
In a flash, I realize that I feel sorry for him. It wasn’t all his fault, nor all mine, nor all his family’s. After all, how do you make a man grow up?
Somewhere along the way, perhaps since coming here, I’ve awakened.
“I came to see you, Danny. I thought you’d be happy to...”
“To what? See you? Are you daft? I divorced you for a reason, Damien.”
“Look, I’m really sorry about what happened. That’s one of the reasons I came. To apologize. You’re looking very good. These are for you.”
“Damien, the last thing I want from you areis flowers. Who the hell told you where I was?”
“Angie said you went to America. I remember you said you had a gran here. That you spent some time here in your childhood. It didn’t take too long to get the address. You know we have people...”
“That’s fine, Damien. But I’ve got to run,” Rob’s pick-up has just pulled up behind Damien’s cab, so I turn, lock the door behind me, and sprint down the steps to where my contractor is just parking.
His window’s down, so unable to resist, I lean forward and give him a peck on the forehead. I scarcely register his surprise before I run to the passenger side and let myself in.
“Don’t bother parking, if it’s not too much trouble. Off we go,” I say at his stunned look, waving a hand forward, somewhere in the direction of the parked cab ahead of us.
He sits there gaping at me for a few more seconds, looks out the window at Damien who’s still standing on my porch looking down at us in shock. The expression on the face of the boy I married is priceless. I wish more than anything to capture it with a camera, but I don’t have one at the moment.
Rob sits immobile for a few seconds longer, and I’m about to prompt him again. Fortunately, he hasn’t yet shut the engine. With a shrug, he pulls away, thenand then drives off.
“Sorry about that,” I finally manage with a sigh of relief. “Long story.”
“Uh, Danny. Who was that?”
“My ex.”
“He flew all the way here to see you?”
“Hah! Damien’s not that gallant. No. He flew here for some business. I’m just an afterthought.”
“Wow.”
“Indeed. Still, I’m glad he came by.”
“Why’s that?”
“Because now I know, really know, what I realized some time ago but never admitted to myself.”
“Yeah? And what’s that, if you don’t mind letting me in on it?”
“I realized that Damien and I were over a long time ago. Angie will be so happy.”
“Seriously?”
“Seriously. So,. Wwhere are you taking me on this date?”
“Is this a date, Danny?”
His voice is calm, and perhaps Angie’s right in that I read too much into things. I cannot, however, resist the conviction that there is more to his question.
“For me, it is,” I say with more boldness than I feel, too scared to look him in the eye, suddenly finding the familiar view fascinating. “I’m really over him, Rob. I realize now that I was over him some time ago. I think a part of me will always love him, but it’s not the same as before. I hope cab fare from Manhattan to here is expensive.”
His laughter fills the pick-up, and I can’t get over how good the sound of it feels as it hits my flesh.
***
It has been a week since our first official date (excluding the dinner I had at his house). Despite this, Rob and I still pretend to have a strictly business relationship. This early in the game, I doubt the men have reasons to wonder why their boss finds reasons not to leave the same time as they do.
It’s not as if Rob hasn’t stayed behind in the past. Still, he and I know that it’s only a matter of time before the questioning looks begin.
At the moment, however, neither he nor I care. The sex is fantastic as I knew it would be, perhaps egged on by the desperate nature of it, by the sure knowledge that I will be leaving soon. We do not speak of it, however. I would love for him to spend the night, but I am mindful of his waiting daughter. This too, we do not speak of.
Lying beside him, feeling the warmth and hard solidity of him, is almost as intoxicating as what came before. We have already established a ritual for his leave-taking, mindful of the world outside my door, careful to re-establish the professional demeanor and distance between us before I open it.
Despite Angie’s urging, I have not yet put out ads for prospective renters, even though both the house’s interior and exterior are already largely presentable. Despite the fact that Rob, in his endless attention to detail and professionalism, is actually on schedule. We have one more week before the house is finished, and after that, this charade can no longer be maintained.
Not that I would have to leave right away. Once the house is fixed, I would still have to wait for someone to move in first. Rob assures me, however, that such wouldn’t be a problem in this neighborhood. Bad as the economy is, there are always those who are immune, those who have actually thrived in this challenging environment.
Fortunately, Rob is one of them. As am I.
***
“So how long will you be gone?,” he asks me as I snuggle up to him.
“Mr. Chase says I need to be out of the country for at least a month. Then I can come back in on another three-month tourist visa.”
“I’ll miss you, Danny.”
I thrill at that, and snuggle up into him further. It is amazing how well we fit together, almost as if we were designed for each other. In a few more hours, his mother and daughter will be here for my farewell dinner. With the house done, and him at another site, the pretense is no longer necessary. At least with his men.
As for his family, I don’t think we ever fooled them.
“I really want to take you to the airport, Danny.”
But I shake my head, “I’m not too good with goodbyes, sorry. I’m coming back, that’s all that matters, surely?”
“And then?”
I sigh and shake my head, once more. If he takes me to the airport tomorrow, I know I’ll lose it in public, and that’s the last thing I want. Besides, I have a few things to take care of, first. I can do my business anywhere in the world, soas long as I have access to the internet.
I’m taking Angie’s advice and just winging it, feeling like a love--struck teenager once more. I have no plans, no idea if I can even work here. I’ll leave that to Mr. Chase. According to him, I have a good chance of being allowed to live here, especially since I’ll be paying property tax on this house. For the time-being, however, I need to wrap a few things up back in London. The thought of leaving him behind hurts, however.
Am I in love or just madly in lust? I still don’t know. Perhaps, I’m still not as able to let go as I should.
Pulling myself together, I give his nipple a little bite, laughing as he jerks beneath me.
“Come on,” I say, getting up. “That dinner isn’t going to cook itself.”
“Uh, yes, ma’am!”
***
“Mrs. Abramovitz! More muffins?”
“It’s a bribe so you’ll let me in,” she grins as she hands me the wicker basket covered in red cloth, so domestic and cheerful. “I’ve been dying to see what you’ve done to the place. Must be good, considering that Rob’s had to do a lot of overtime.”
Ooh! The nosy bitch! “Where’s Fritz?” I say to change the subject.
“Oh, I wouldn’t want him to scratch up your brand new floors. Wouldn’t want the smell of tiny accidents scaring prospective renters away, now would we? Speaking of which, found any decent people? You can’t be too careful about who you let stay on, you know?”
