Tiago's Love Read online

  Rain’s face glows with an unbridled passion for the life surrounding her. Another set of pictures follows. Daria and her little girl. Rain’s mom and her dad, and then her father’s family.

  They did their best to forget their tumultuous past, live the present, and embrace the future.

  A few of the photos were taken outside–- in her backyard and downtown. I fill my eyes with snapshots of the Main Square and the City Hall, even Red’s.

  The horse-drawn sleighs and the park buried in snow, illuminated by streetlights, make me feel nostalgic.

  I set the phone down, and take another sip of coffee, absently checking the time.

  It’s two o’clock in the afternoon, and the sky has already darkened.

  Mechanically, I check my recent calls too.

  It’s been quiet for the past two days. Since Thursday evening to be exact.

  Andy got the message and left me alone. Or, so I think.

  Tiago... Well, it’s not as if I expected him to call me.

  Everything that needed to be said was spelled out on Christmas Eve.

  I’d lie if I’d say that my conversation with him didn’t break me. I knew that he dived deep into me and had me, but I didn’t know my feelings for him were so strong, still. I didn’t know that I could feel for someone so intensely after only a few weeks.

  By the time, I returned to our dinner table that night, he was already gone. His friend too.

  David and I left a little later. He dropped me at home where I spent the rest of the evening alone.

  Next day, David flew back to Europe.

  If Tiago wanted to ruin my evening, he certainly succeeded.

  I couldn’t look with the same eyes at David or even myself.

  As I processed the things we talked about that evening it dawned on me that what we had was much more complicated than I thought.

  Until I talked to him, I couldn’t possibly imagine the ramifications of our little affair.

  I told him things about James and Rain that he shouldn’t have known.

  And keeping our secret now, only makes things worse.

  But I don’t have a better choice, although not being able to talk to anyone bothers me. I can’t share my story with my mom, and I can’t confess to Rain.

  I finally tear my hand away from my phone and eat the last piece of almond tart I scooped out from the fridge.

  It tastes good.

  I wash it down with a sip of coffee before I set my eyes on the small dessert box. The name of the bakery is printed on the lid in golden calligraphy letters.

  I read the name of the dessert below.

  ‘Tarta de Santiago.’

  I stare blankly at the letters as a door opens in my mind and I walk through it, revisiting that day.

  My body relaxes in my chair as I get transported to that time. Suddenly, every detail of that evening comes to me. The time we spent in Central Park, the trip to the restaurant, and the bakery we shopped in later on. My kitchen filled with the aroma of fresh food and this delicious dessert.

  And then I remember... his first touch.

  Everything pulls to a stop as I linger on that moment.

  Oh, yes…

  His touch.

  It felt so good, my heart clenches even now. So warm and tender and hot.

  So sexy.

  Spellbound, I followed him as he led me to that perfect place where he won my trust and made me feel safe and hungry for him.

  My heart races as I relive that memory.

  He was good and felt so good, the pain swirling in my chest reminding me that he is gone.

  I taste my tears on my lips as I realize that he felt so damn perfect for me.

  With a soft motion, I wipe my tears away from my cheeks. And he felt so real. That’s what fooled me the worst.

  He. Felt. So. Real.

  Perhaps he was... But now, my trust in him is gone and with it, so is the possibility of him happening in my life again.

  Brushing away more tears, I stare at the dessert box.

  How strange things are.

  How twisted my life.

  How much power time has over everything.

  One winter evening, this beautiful man and I walked into that gourmet store. We wanted to buy something sweet and picked our favorites before he ordered something else.

  ‘Tarta de Santiago.’

  He picked this on purpose–– now I realize. He wanted to tell me something he couldn’t tell me back then. He wanted to hear his name–– even if in a twisted way, coming from my lips, so he ordered this dessert.

  He asked me to repeat the dessert name so that a part of his name could be uttered as well. Somehow, he told me what he couldn’t say to me otherwise.

  I muster a smile.

  Like me now, he didn’t know what to do. So he did what he knew best. He kept hiding his lie while dealing with remorse.

  I don’t know if this small detail is enough to make me believe him, but it’s a start. Still, it doesn’t change a thing. What’s done is done.

  Slowly, I run my fingers across the letters as if I brush the name of someone I hold dear on the coldness of a tombstone. My mind spins a yarn again, bringing a sad smile to my lips.

  One winter evening, a man and woman entered a small store, and they bought this delicious cake, their hearts warm for each other, filled with anticipation and hope. Their bodies were hungry for each other too, and their feelings couldn’t stop growing.

  That winter evening they got a taste of something different and proceeded on a journey that took them to a special place.

  They lingered in there for a little while and learned a thing or two about each other, and when they thought that they were safe, something happened and severed their bond.

  The bond that Rain and James always had.

  The bond that I’d never thought I’d have with someone.

  A long sigh leaves my lips as I slant my eyes down, my vision blurry with tears.

  One winter evening, a man bought this cake for me, his heart and mine filled with excitement for what was about to come, neither of us realizing that one winter afternoon, I’d be staying at this table, staring at this box, feeling hopeless and bereft as if looking at a gravestone because he was long gone, and my heart was buried in the ground.

  14

  EVE

  I use the back of my hand for the second time to wipe away the tears trickling down my cheeks before I push my chair back, drink the rest of the coffee, collect everything from the table and head to the kitchen counter.

  Reluctantly, I toss the dessert box in the garbage bin and walk away, heading to the bathroom.

  I spend an hour in the shower, washing away my tears and thoughts. I wish I could flush away my regrets and memories as well.

  Close to four o’clock, I finish drying off my hair.

  I enter my kitchen, a few messages waiting for me on my phone––several from Rain, one from my mom, and one from Andy.

  He asks me to stop by at his place again, if not tonight then tomorrow.

  I don’t reply to any of them.

  I swipe the screen with my thumb and pull up my list of contacts.

  It takes me several moments before I find the courage to tap one of the names.

  This is so crazy and inappropriate to an extent, but it’s the only thing that I can do.

  Slowly, I type a message.

  Me: Good afternoon. I hope you had a wonderful time this Holiday season. Is there any way I could talk to you on a private matter one of these days?

  I dwell for a few more moments before I press ‘send.’

  A couple of minutes pass by.

  I start to type again when a call lights up my phone.

  “What’s going on, Eve?”

  “Oh, nothing. I’m sorry,” I say with a hesitant voice, smiling. “I hope I didn’t intrude. I know that you are on vacation, like everybody else, and I don’t want to waste your time.”

  Samantha Jackson’s chuckle echoes in m
y ear.

  “You’re wasting my time now if you’re not telling me what it is.”

  She seems to be in a good disposition.

  “As I said before... It’s something personal, and I’m a little uncomfortable to talk to you about it over the phone. Would it be possible to meet with you one of these days? I want to ask you something, but I’d rather do it face to face.”

  “How about now?”

  “Now?”

  “Mmm-hmm. How far are you from downtown? I meet a friend for drinks, but her car broke down in Connecticut so she’s going to be late. You can talk to me before she gets here.”

  “Oh. Okay. Sure. I’ll get a cab and be there soon.”

  “Good.”

  She gives me the address before she hangs up, and I run to my walk-in closet. I pull on a pair of jeans, a sweater, boots, and a winter jacket. I spend about two minutes in the bathroom to brush my hair and put on some lipgloss and mascara before I run out the door.

  I get there in fifteen minutes.

  Located on the first floor of a hotel, the bar is a small place with carved wood chairs and tables, velvet upholstery and soft lighting that spreads around the space.

  Samantha Jackson is on the phone when I enter the room. I take a few steps in her direction before she notices me and waves at me.

  Smoothly, I shed my jacket as I close the distance between us. She finishes her conversation the moment I sink into a chair across from her.

  A navy fitted pantsuit highlights her silhouette.

  Her eyes lock mine.

  “Would you like something to drink?” she asks before she takes a sip of gin and tonic.

  “No, no. I’m good. Thank you so much for meeting me in such short notice.”

  She nods softly.

  “What was it that you wanted to talk to me about?” she asks after she sets her drink down.

  I take a deep breath as I weigh my words.

  “I told you that it was personal...” I start with a shaky voice.

  She shoots me a pointed gaze.

  “What did you do, Malone?”

  “I listened to your advice.”

  “Mmm-hmm.”

  “And I took some risks.”

  “Okay.”

  “And now it’s over.”

  She doesn’t say anything for a moment.

  “And?” she asks, pushing her eyebrows up.

  “And then I remembered something else that you told me that evening in your office. You mentioned something about how regretful you were about the lost opportunities, the things that you missed out on in the past.”

  Her smile fades out to a degree.

  “Mmm-hmm. Yes, I was. And I still am.”

  “How did you know that you missed out on an opportunity? And was there anything you could’ve done differently to change the outcome?”

  She studies me for a brief moment before her gaze goes blank as she sifts through her memories.

  She lets out a sigh.

  “You always know to an extent...” she says, smiling bittersweet. “You know that something’s wrong. When you’re losing something, you feel it. But you don’t always know what it is. So you don’t feel regret right away. And that’s why it’s a painful lesson to learn. Sometimes, you see things for what they are when it’s too late. When there is nothing you can do about it. And then you go out there and try to find what you had lost, hoping that it works that way. And then you learn another crushing thing. Lost opportunities never come back.”

  I look at her, wordless.

  “I don’t want to dishearten you, but this is how life works.”

  She looks down briefly, a sad smile tugging at her lips.

  “When I was young like you, I was flushed with opportunities. I bet you are, too... But you don’t know it as it happens. Because that’s the only kind of life you know. Does that makes sense?”

  “Yes, it does.”

  “The reason you don’t know anything else is that early in life–– most of the times anyway, everything is on your side. You have a lot of time, your health, and if you’re lucky, people who love you. Family and friends and such. Everything is great. You go to school and start a career, and when it comes to love, you play the field a little because it’s fun. There are plenty of opportunities. They are all tempting, and there is no rush. Again. You don’t know much about it. Besides, everybody does it so it must be good. Most people coming your way are not perhaps what you needed, but you play along with them for fun if nothing else. Before you know it, you start to take everything for granted, and it all becomes about you and your needs. It all becomes about what people can do for you. You get a taste of power, and quickly learn that power is addictive. You can no longer see what is good and what is bad. You can’t tell the difference. All you want is satisfy your hunger, and therefore, people become interchangeable. It’s all about the game. You basically become an asshole. You know that something’s wrong, but you rationalize it in such a way so that you keep doing it. And then...” she says, grinning bitterly. “Life throws you a curveball to teach you some humbleness. But you don’t know it yet. You have no idea. You keep doing what you’re doing, and then, amongst the people that you surround yourself with, you find someone who is different. I don’t know if I knew at that point that he was different. I either pretended that I didn’t know or I was blindsided by my arrogance. Regardless, I liked that man, and he liked me too. But I wasn’t ready to do anything for him. I didn’t see him for who he was, so I played games with him, assuming that he was playing games with me too. I kept blabbering about what I needed and how I needed it and how everything came ahead of him in my life. I was so full of myself I’m surprised he lasted as much as he did. I don’t know why to be honest. I was horrible with him. I guess, he wanted to give me enough time to pull my head out of my ass. But that was not possible. Because I was young and under the impression that everything revolved around me. And if didn’t revolve around me then I didn’t need it. So... I played hard to get. He told me that he didn’t like games. He told me that we should give the idea of ‘us’ a try, see where it takes us. He told me everything I’m telling you right now, but I didn’t listen to him. Do you know what I did instead?”

  She bites her lip as she makes an effort to smile.

  “I laughed in his face. I said that it was stupid to take things so seriously. I wasn’t ready for something serious. There was no point in settling with anyone since my career and my exploration time were everything I wanted at that moment. I also thought that it was everything I needed. According to my flawed rationale, there were so many people I was attracted to, and he was only one of them.”

  She stops to fight back her emotions, her eyes glinting with tears.

  “Unless you’re an asshole, you don’t say that to anyone. Even if that’s what you think. And even if it’s true. Anyone who is a decent man or a woman–– for that matter, wouldn’t waste another second on someone like me if they hear these words.”

  She draws in a long breath.

  “He didn’t leave right away. I guess he wanted to drink the cup of poison to the last drop, to make sure that he did everything in his power to convince me. He waited for me, hoping that at one point or another I’d know better than to act like a jerk. But I didn’t stop at words, so I had a fling with another man. Looking back, it wasn’t someone that I liked, but I didn’t do it for that person. I did it for me, to prove my power. My independence. My set of values. In the end, it was a matter of principles.”

  She laughs.

  “In my nothingness, I was righteous. I wanted to prove to a good man that he didn’t matter. That he was not important. That him offering me something so early in my life had no value to me, and it was a nuisance. That my principles reigned supreme and I was above all that laughable ‘love thing’ that most people mocked anyway. I was textbook stupid. I could’ve written the manual on how to act like an idiot in three easy steps. Lie to yourself, don’t know your priorities, and make fu
n of people who love you. Had I listen to my old principles, I would’ve fired you that day when you had the mishap with your phone, and I would’ve lost one of the most valuable people in the company. See, how much good your principles do to you?”

  I can’t comment.

  She continues.

  “When I went out with the other man, I was arrogant enough to let the man who loved me know. I told him that I was within my right to meet and know other people. I told him that I couldn’t stop myself from being attracted to other people too. And that was it. That was the last I heard of him. I finally gave him a lethal strike. I finally killed everything he felt for me. I finally proved to him that I was the idiot that I didn’t know I was. He left me without a word. Moved out of the city and I never heard from him again. A few years back, I tracked him down on social media. I found his family pictures. They have a vacation home in Maine, and they spend all their summers there. His wife is a good looking woman, blonde, petite–– nothing like me, and their kids–– two boys and a girl, are adorable. He looks happy, and so does she. His career took off after we parted ways. He is a high-rank executive in one of the most prestigious investments groups in Chicago. I don’t know if he ever traveled to New York. I bet, he did, and I’m sure he could’ve found my profile online, but he never bothered to contact me. Why would he?”

  She takes another moment to catch her breath.

  “In retrospect, he was my lesson in humbleness, and I was his lesson in how to protect yourself from assholes like me. You can knock on a door that doesn’t open so much before you move on. Interestingly enough, my social butterfly days came to a swift ending after he left,” she says, quoting the air with her fingers. “Soon after, I changed jobs, had to work longer hours, and the supply of people changed. More and more got married, and less and less were available for anything other than casual hookups. Some of them had already gone through a divorce, and life got quickly complicated for all of us. No one had time or interest in starting anything serious with anyone. The priorities switched for all of us. I guess we all became a little more mature and more prone to making calculated moves. My marriage was such a calculated move. As the pool of people started to dry up, I began to look around me. The days of picking and choosing were gone. I was looking for financial stability as much as I was looking for someone I liked and also liked me. It was easier to find the former than the latter. That’s how I learned that you don’t play with these things. I found my husband through elimination. He hit a few points on my list, and I said yes to his proposal. We lived with each other long enough to develop feelings for one another, but I’m not fooling myself. It was never the kind of love that brings children into this world or makes a marriage memorable. We basically worked on it. And when we stopped working on it, our marriage failed. You know the rest.”