Chat Love (32 page)

“So, you’re married?” she asks Helen sweetly. “That’s so great! I’m currently dating Ian Smuckler. You remember him, don’t you?” Danni smirks smugly.

Helen’s face drops. It’s no secret that she’d had a massive crush on Ian in high school, and we all knew that she’d never fully gotten over the heartbreak he’d caused her. In an attempt to change the subject, Helen suddenly turns to me.

“Are you dating anyone, Lucia?”

Danni answers for me, explaining that I have an incredibly attractive British boyfriend. I don’t bother to correct her lies.

“Where is your husband, anyway?” Danni adds.

Helen quickly replies, “He’s at home with the baby. Where’s your Brit, Lucia?” she asks me.

“He couldn’t make it,” I lie.

Helen raises an eyebrow. “Of course.” She gives me a fake smile. “I saw Matt Davis walking around earlier; you should go and say hello if you get a chance. I heard about him breaking up with you over the phone. That must have just been terrible.” She feigns concern, “I can’t imagine how humiliating is must have been to have your boyfriend break up with you over the phone for another woman. He’s married to her now, isn’t he?”

I nod politely and remain silent, not knowing what to say. I finally decide to just leave the conversation, and as I turn away I hear Danni start to brag about her and Ian’s sex life. I grab her arm and drag her along with me, offering my apologies to Helen.

“Would you just give it a rest already?” I hiss to Danni as we walk away.

Danni smiles widely at me. “Lighten up; I was just having a little fun. Come on, let’s go get some drinks.”

After a few cocktails and some socializing with other classmates, I make my way to the bathroom. As I come out of the door, I hear a woman moan, and I’m almost positive that I recognize the voice. Sure enough, I turn a corner and see Ian pressing Danni against the wall, her legs wrapped around his waist. She leans her head back as Ian kisses her neck, and her hands squeeze his arms, working their way southward. I clear my throat loudly and they both look at me, still clutching one another. I quickly apologize and ask what time we’re planning on leaving.

Still tangled in Ian’s arms, Danni ignores my question and instead asks, “Was Helen Longo still in the bathroom when you came out?”

“Yeah, she was busy putting on more makeup. Why?”

Ian chuckles. “Danni wants to make her even more jealous, so we’re waiting for her to come out and see us going at it.”

How tacky
, I think to myself. I wish them luck with their devious plan and walk away, making my way over to a table near the dance floor. A slow song is playing and I look on as Autumn and Wayne dance together, both gazing lovingly at their partner.

“Isn’t it strange how everyone has changed so much?” says a voice out of nowhere. I recognize it instantly, and I feel my stomach twist into knots. I turn around and see Matt standing there looking extremely handsome and mature. He gives me a big smile and looks me up and down. “You look stunning, Lucia! How have you been?”

I finally locate my voice and reply, “I’ve been doing well. How are you? You look very nice.”

“I’ve been OK,” he replies. “Things have been different, but in a good way.” He rubs his face and I see his silver wedding band glinting in the light.

“I heard you got married,” I say. “Congratulations!” I hate having to feign genuine excitement— just one more reason why I’m not a fan of reunions.

He face turns red and he looks embarrassed. “Yeah, we got married last year.” He takes a seat at the table. “Lucia, I would have invited you, but to be honest, I thought that you hated me.”

Corey and Sandy pass us on their way to the bar, and Corey says a quick hello.

As they walk away Matt says, “You know, I caught the two of them having sex outside earlier. I would never have thought that Corey would be in a committed relationship.” He shakes his head, chuckling.

“I wouldn’t have either,” I reply, once again reminded that I’m the only single one in my group of friends.

Matt then asks me the question I’ve been dreading. “What about you? Are you dating anyone?”

“Not really,” I say. “I mean, there’s a guy I’ve been seeing here and there, but I don’t really know if I actually want to date him or not.”

Matt’s face takes on a confused expression. “Why not? Do you like the guy?”

“Yes, I do,” I reply.

Matt continues, “And do you think that he feels the same way about you?”

“Yeah, I think so.”

“Then what are you waiting for? You deserve to be happy, Lucia.” He smiles at me, revealing that he genuinely means what he’s saying.

I turn to look at all of my friends, each enjoying the company of their partner. Watching them causes my heart to ache with loneliness, and I turn to Matt and ask, “Are you happy? Being married, I mean.”

He clears his throat, “Yes, very.” He puts his hand on my shoulder. “Please understand that I wasn’t ever unhappy with you, Lucia, but I think that we just grew apart over time. It wasn’t meant to be, and that’s OK.”

I add, “And then you met Cindy.”

He nods seriously. “Then I met Cindy.” He looks up at me and I see genuine concern in his eyes. “I know that I handled that situation badly, and I’m sorry for hurting you. Cindy was—and is—the one for me. I know that someday you’ll find that too, Lu. You’re too good not to.”

The feeling of closure is comforting, and I’m actually glad that Matt and I found an opportunity to talk. Losing him as a friend had always upset me more than having lost him as a boyfriend, anyway.

Suddenly we hear a woman scream and turn to see Helen stomping into the room, followed by a smug-looking Danni and Ian. I roll my eyes and explain the situation to Matt as he laughs.

“Lucia, I want you to meet my wife,” he suddenly says. He motions to a petite woman standing near the drink table, and she comes over. Her brown eyes reveal intelligence and she politely offers her hand to me as an introduction.

“Cindy, this is Lucia Fabbo. She’s the one I’ve told you about.” Matt is practically beaming, and I’m glad to see him so genuinely happy.

Cindy smiles warmly. “It’s so nice to finally meet you! Matt has always spoken of you so fondly.”

Matt smiles and wraps his arm around her waist lovingly. As he pulls her closer, I notice a small baby bump showing through her dress. Once again, it seems that I’m the only one without someone special to share their life with.

After the reunion, I spend the night at my parents’ house. Frankly, leaving my friends—who are all getting hotel rooms with their lovers—to go stay with my parents just adds insult to injury. When I walk into the house, I see that both my mother and father are patiently waiting up in the living room, just as they used to when I’d go out in high school. As I walk by, they both notice the tears running down my cheeks and ask if I would like to talk. I decline, telling them that I’m just tired, and go to my old room to get some rest. I toss and turn all night, once again plagued by dreams of Jackson.

I wake up the next morning with a pounding headache, my eyes red and sore from crying. I sit up and look around my room, rubbing my eyes. It’s been left untouched since I moved out to go to college, and my old pictures and paintings still cover the walls. I look at a few of them, realizing that I’m no longer the innocent and naïve girl who thought that she would marry her high school sweetheart, no longer the girl who thought she had it all figured out and had no fears about the future.

I take a few of my favorite paintings off the wall and set them down near my suitcase. I’ll take them home and put them up in my apartment; they’ll be a nice reminder of what it was like being young and carefree. I hear a quiet knock on my door and see my mother standing there, watching me with curious eyes.

“What are you doing with your paintings?” she asks.

“I thought that it would be nice to take a few of them home with me,” I reply.

My mother smiles. “I see.” She walks into my room and gives me a hug. “I’m about to make breakfast for everybody. Are you hungry?”

“Yeah, breakfast sounds good, Mom. Just give me a few minutes so I can shower, OK?” She nods and kisses the top of my head, padding off to the kitchen to start cooking.

After my shower, I walk into the kitchen and see my mom generously heaping scrambled eggs onto my father’s plate. He has his glasses on and is busy reading the newspaper. There is already a plate full of food at my seat, and I lower myself into the chair as my stomach growls with anticipation. My mother makes herself a plate and we begin to eat in silence. I can tell that Mom has something to say by the way she keeps glancing at my father. Finally, she speaks.

“Lucia Pia, would you like to come with us to the hospital after breakfast?” she asks. “We’re going to visit Antonia.”

I look up and see her giving me an encouraging smile, trying her best to cheer me up. “Of course,” I reply. I turn to my father and ask, “Dad, would you be able to drop me off at my apartment after we leave the hospital? I want to take some of my paintings home with me and I think I’ll have trouble carrying them all on the train.” He nods and continues eating.

My mother decides to change the subject by asking, “How was your reunion last night?”

I bite my lip, trying to decide what to say. Overall, the reunion had been an unusual experience. I’d felt more emotions in those two hours than most people feel in an entire week, and it had been odd seeing people that I hadn’t heard from in years. Although it had been nice to see that others were happy, it was also depressing, as each contented smile reminded me of my own loneliness.

My mom clears her throat, waiting for my answer and shaking me from my thoughts. I take a sip of my orange juice and decide to lie, telling them that I’d had a wonderful time last night and making sure to avoid mentioning Matt.

After breakfast, my parents drive us to the hospital to visit my niece. Although Gabriella has been released, doctors are still keeping Antonia in an incubator to help keep her from getting sick. The car ride is unusually quiet, and I stare absentmindedly out the window, watching the passing scenery. I close my eyes and lean my head back, trying to clear my mind.

My father breaks the silence. “How’s Jackson?” he asks.

I open my eyes and meet my father’s gaze in the rearview mirror. I shrug my shoulders.

My father responds, “Your sister said that he seems like a good guy.”

My heart aches at the mention of his name. “He is,” I agree.

“So what’s the problem then? Why are you not together?” My mother turns around in her seat to look at me, obviously wondering the same thing.

Finally fed up, I raise my voice, “I’m the problem, OK? It’s my business, not yours.” I immediately regret snapping at him, but I also have no desire to talk about Jackson with my parents.

We stop at a red light and I see my father glaring at me in the mirror. After a minute the light turns green and he turns his gaze back to the road. He grunts and turns up the radio, ending our conversation.

My father parks the car and we all get out. Before I can follow my mother inside, I feel my father grab my arm, pulling me backward. My mom notices and turns around, but my father tells her to go inside without us. She narrows her eyes at him and he says something in Italian, speaking too quickly for me to understand. She nods and continues walking into the hospital as my father turns to me and clears his throat.

“Lucia, what happened last night?” he asks.

“I already told you about the reunion, Dad.”

My father shakes his head and pulls me over to a bench near the hospital doors. He sits down and pats the seat next to him, inviting me to sit. I lower myself onto the bench and bite my lip nervously. I have always been intimidated by my father, and I’m wondering what he’s about to say.

“Last night you came home upset, not wanting to talk,” he begins. I open my mouth to argue but he silences me with a look before continuing. “Did something happen last night that we should know about? Did you do something bad with Matt?” he asks.

My eyes widen and I shake my head. “No, Dad, I would never do anything like that. Matt’s married!”

He nods his head. “I know he is,” he says, “but I just wanted to make sure.” I look down at my sandals, trying to avoid making eye contact. I hear my father inhale deeply. “Lucia, I know that I can be hard on you, but I want you to know something.” I look up at him and see his eyes glazed over with tears. “No matter what, the only thing I want is for you to be happy. Do you understand?”

I grab his hand and squeeze it tightly. “What makes you think I’m not happy, Dad? I have a good life.”

“I know, but your eyes don’t sparkle like they used to—not until recently, anyway.” I look at my father curiously and he smiles. “When you came to the hospital with Jackson the other night, I saw that same sparkle for the first time in years. You looked truly happy.” My breath catches in my throat as I fight back tears. My father adds, “When that young man looked at you, I saw his eyes sparkling, too.”

The tears begin to fall from my eyes and my father puts his arm around me, holding me close. I lay my head on his shoulder and cry, and I’m reminded of my childhood.

“Daddy, I don’t know what to do,” I say, sniffling.

My father lifts my chin and makes me look at him. “Yes, you do. Your heart knows what to do; all you need to do is stop and listen to what it’s saying. You always listened to it before, so don’t stop now.” I smile as he hands me his handkerchief.

When we walk into the waiting room, Gabriella and my grandmother are sitting and talking to one another. Gabriella looks exhausted and stressed, and I can tell that she’s feeling the first pressures of motherhood. They stop talking when they see us enter, both rising to give us hugs. My grandmother smiles at me and winks.

“I’m very happy about your boyfriend, Lucia,” she says with a grin.

I cock my head. “Boyfriend?”

She hands me an envelope containing cash. “That is a little gift from me. Put it in the bank to save for the wedding,” she says, beaming enthusiastically.

I look at Gabriella for help and she explains, “The family heard that you brought Jackson with you when Antonia was born. You know how gossip travels,” she says, giving me an apologetic look.