Draw Me In (21 page)

I
stopped talking, mostly because my tongue felt so thick in my mouth that I
might actually choke on it. Instead, I zeroed in on the peaceful cadence of Leo
’
s breathing next to me. Rise and
fall. It sounded like he
’
d
drifted into sleep, the way he slowly pulled in air and let it back out again
in a steady flow.

Should
I sing him a lullaby? That was a good idea. Sleepy people liked lullabies.
Well, mostly babies liked lullabies, and since I had these crazy dreams of
making babies with him someday, I should let him know I could totally handle
the whole lullaby thing. I
’
d
be an incredible mom.

I
started humming, though it probably sounded more like moaning because the
humming did awful things to my brain and made me grit my teeth really hard. It
shouldn
’
t
hurt to hum, but at this point, everything was starting to hurt, like bruising
from the inside out. I stopped.

“
Julie?
”
Leo rolled toward me and swept his
hand through my hair. Fingers combed out every strand, and in that moment, even
the hairs on my head had their own sensitive nerve endings. His voice hung in
the air, a low, dreamlike tone.
“
You
asleep?
”

So
I know this was totally wrong to do, but I didn
’
t answer. Like a six-year-old girl
fake-sleeping in the car just so her daddy would scoop her up and carry her to
her bedroom, I pinched my eyes together tightly and slowed my own breathing to
convince him of this lie. I even added a cute little snore for dramatic effect
—
not a loud one
because I didn
’
t
want to scare him off completely, but one that hinted that I
’
d reached the REM cycle of my sleep.

“
You awake, Julie?
”

Silence.

Man,
I was good.

Leo
scooted closer to me and with gentle movements, and he lowered his head onto
the pillow and slunk his arm across my body, tugging me closer to him so we
were practically spooning. Ha! What a funny thing to think about. There were a
few other utensils that came to mind, but I was happy with the spooning for the
moment. Leo was a good spoon.

“
So you
’
re not going to remember any of this,
but maybe that
’
s
a good thing.
”
His breath fell against my ear as he spoke.
“
And maybe we can have this talk again
when you
’
re
sober, but I have some things I really want to say to you.
”

 
Instead of falling further into slumber,
that last statement completely jolted me awake. My faking became much harder to
pull off, and I could tell that my closed eyelids were fluttering with nerves.
Leo would be able to see that if we were actually face to face.

“
Have you ever met someone that you
just know will be your last
‘
I
love you
’
?
”
He paused. My breathing was shallow
and shaky and I gulped back a forced swallow. It felt like I was trembling in
his arms, but he held me so tightly he didn
’
t appear to notice.
“
I saw you so many times at that
coffee shop over the last year. I watched you interact with the customers and
witnessed your relationships with many of them. Honestly, for a while I was
jealous, and even tried to pinpoint what kind of person it was that you were
drawn to. Because I wanted to be that person to draw you in.
”

I
clenched my breath so tightly my insides quivered with the effort. Shaking
within myself, I waited for him to continue.

“
But there was Harry the professor and
your art students and other random customers that would come through and you
were the same with all of them. You were just you. So it wasn
’
t like any one person brought that
joy out in you, it was just like it was something already there. It
’
s who you are.
”

Hearing
him mention the coffeehouse triggered a small jolt of sadness, because that
place had honestly been home to me for the past few years. But the funny thing
with home was that sometimes we moved. Sometimes we relocated. Sometimes we
started over.

“
Julie,
”
he breathed, a faint echo of real
noise. I felt the small divot of his chin pressed into my hair.
“
You make me laugh, and I honestly haven
’
t had much laughter in my life. You
know who you are. You
’
re
confident and quirky and unassumingly beautiful. You
’
re so real. You
’
re pretty much everything any man
should ever look for in a woman, and if he
’
s
not looking for it, he
’
s
a complete fool.
”

Oh
goodness, he was giving my crazy too much credit.

“
I look forward to falling in love
with you.
”
Leo
’
s
lips pushed onto my crown of hair and he sighed quietly.
“
Because you
’
re real. So I know that when it
happens, that it will be the real thing, too.
”

There
was no way I was going to be able to sleep for the next week with those words
tinkering around in my brain. Who said things like that? And seriously, who
thought things like that? About me?

I
couldn
’
t
leave him hanging. Not after he bore his wide-awake, thoughtful soul to my
intoxicated, sleepy one. Digging my shoulder into the mattress for momentum, I
twisted at the waist and flung around toward him.

I
didn
’
t
say anything with words
—
I
didn
’
t
even open my eyes
—
but
I just pushed my mouth onto his, surrendering to his statement and to his hopes
with lips on lips. His surprise was evident at first as his mouth froze
suddenly
—
all
rigid and unyielding
—
but
that hesitation quickly receded and he offered me the most assuring, most
tender reciprocation possible as our lips came together. It was a quick kiss,
but sometimes the fleeting things were the most intense. Pulling back, I
slipped my head down to his chest, letting Leo finally lull me to sleep with
more soft strokes of his fingers through my hair and that steady, metronomic
heartbeat.

I
wasn
’
t
sure if it was a dream or if the wine was still toying with my senses, but the
last thing I remembered was his mouth against my forehead, and the words,
“
You
’
re going to be my last
‘
I love you,
’
Julie,
”
slipping through them, a promise
made on a breath. Then, after an exhale that felt more like a release than a
necessity, he whispered,
“
Quite
honestly, you
’
ll
actually be the first.
”

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

Leo
was gone when I woke up.

There
was no rustling of life down the hall, no clanging of plates in the kitchen,
indicative of a house beginning to wake. I took my time getting ready, throwing
on a pair of worn jeans and my oversized navy sweater before sweeping my hair
back into a low ponytail at the base of my head. That
’
s all I had the effort, or talent,
for.

For
as bad as I felt during the night, the morning proved much kinder. No headache,
no stab of nausea. Just the feeling that I might end up operating a little more
sluggishly than usual, but hey, we were
“
on
holiday,
”
so that sort of relaxation was acceptable.

Not
quite sure when to head down the hall to see if anyone else was up, I decided
to stall for a bit longer in my room. Leo had suggested reading. That was
always a good time killer.

There
weren
’
t
any bookshelves lining the walls, so I walked back to the bed and pulled on the
handle to the nightstand drawer. Maybe they had one of those Gideon bibles like
in the hotel rooms back home. Not that I would even know where to start with
one, but
“
In
the beginning
”
seemed pretty appropriate.

Unfortunately,
there was no bible.

Not
even a book.

Nor
a notepad.

Just
an envelope with
“
For
my Leo,
”
scrawled in perfect cursive, tied up in a neat little raffia bow like a ribbon
hug around the parchment.

Defeated,
I closed the drawer and shrugged my shoulders. Oh well.

Wait!
What?
A love letter to Leo?

I
yanked on the handle again and ripped out the envelope in one fast swoop.

It
had to be from Sofia. At least I hoped it was, because it wouldn
’
t be very fun to think not only of
Sofia as an ex-girlfriend, but to also uncover another hidden relationship that
lurked in his past. I figured I probably had enough to compete with already
with Miss July. I didn
’
t
need August and September in the mix as well. Enough with the calendar girls.

In
some countries it was probably considered illegal, but I slipped out the
envelope and held it in between two shaky fingers. The back flap was unsealed
and the paper was crinkled and yellowed with age from the repetition of opening
and closing it so many times.

This
really wasn
’
t
any of my business, but if I was going to attempt to justify for the sake of
making myself feel better for doing something so inherently wrong, I could
probably rationalize it away with the assertion that Leo said it
‘
certainty was
’
my business whom he was kissing.
Though I figured this was the past tense version of that, I could make it work.
Really it just came down to word choice.

I
withdrew the lined paper from the envelope. It was folded into four precise
sections, and I could see the ink that seeped through the parchment and onto
the backside, bleeding blue lines veining across the page. It didn
’
t smell like perfume and I couldn
’
t see any lipstick kisses pressed on
it, so that offered me a little relief.

Curiosity
getting the best of me and probably killing a cat somewhere, I flipped it open
and started to read.

March 8, 2004

My Dear Leo,

I
’
m
really tempted to start this off dramatically with
“
If you
’
re
reading this, then...
”
but let
’
s
face it, if you
are
reading this, then your
life has been dramatic enough. Well, look what I did there. Sorry about that. I
guess there really is no other way to start.

I love you. I know I
’
ve said it a million times, and if I
could say it a million more, it would never be enough. What you have endured
these past three months is beyond what any young man your age should ever have
to face. You should be playing football (or as they call it here,
‘
soccer.
’
Not the American kind of football
because you have a good neck and it shouldn
’
t
be broken). You should be hanging out with your friends (but not Joe because he
smokes pot and I know you
’
ve
smoked it with him before, too. If you
’
re
going to smoke pot, then you should do your own laundry, my dear). You should
be going to dances (and then coming straight home. When someone says,
“
Want to get a hotel room after the
dance?
”
you tell them that you have a nice, comfy bed at home and you
’
ll pass on their offer. But don
’
t let them think that
’
s an invitation into your bed. We
bought you a twin for a reason. Two people do not fit in a twin bed. Do you
hear me? Two people do not fit in a twin!).

You should be fifteen.

And today you are. And I
’
m not here to see it. I
’
m not here to take you to your
favorite gelateria since you don
’
t
like cake. I
’
m
not here to give you gifts where you already know what
’
s inside since you hate surprises.
For Pete
’
s
sake, you even arrived on your due date, Leo. There are no surprises when it
comes to you.

So I wasn
’
t surprised at all when you put your
life on hold for our family these past months. I wish I could say I was
disappointed that you did, but you know there is never any way I could be
disappointed with you. Instead, I was disappointed with life and how it chose
to play itself out for us. Moms are meant to take care of their children when
they are sick
—
it
’
s not supposed to be the other way
around. I know you tried to force me to see the fairness in it, but you shouldn
’
t have to reciprocate something like
that. It
’
s
just not how things are meant to be.

I
’
m
not going to tell you to take care of Gio. I
’
m
not going to tell you to look out for Dad. I
’
m
not even going to tell you to watch over Buster, because honestly, I hate that
dog. He
’
s
on his own. I
’
m
not going to tell you to do all of those things, because I know it doesn
’
t need to be said. You
’
ll just inherently do them, because
that
’
s
who you are. You
’
re
a caretaker, and having been on the receiving end of that, you
’
re the best damn one around.

There is one person I am going to
tell you to take care of though.
You
.
Because I know you, Leo. I know how you put others before yourself. It
’
s your default. I can honestly say I
’
ve never met any adults, let alone
fifteen-year-old kids, that have that quality. And I know the older you get,
that
’
s
only going to grow in you.

So be sure to take care of yourself.
Because for a while, that
’
s
all you
’
ll
have. You won
’
t
have me anymore to take care of you, and let
’
s
face it, Dad and Gio aren
’
t
going to fill that role. I pray someday you
’
ll
meet someone that can be there for you
—
someone
that you can care for and she can care for you.

But for now, just look out for
yourself. I know that sounds like selfish advice and it could be the morphine
talking like it was last night when I told your dad that he should grow a
handlebar mustache and get a tattoo that says,
“
I
love bunnies,
”
but I do know deep down that it
’
s
my true hope for you. Don
’
t
lose yourself without me, Leo. I won
’
t
be there to help you find you again. That
’
s
the hardest part in all of this.

So happy birthday, my Leonardo.

When you blow out your candles
tonight, please remember my wish for you and include it with yours. You
’
re a good egg, son. Don
’
t let anyone, or anything, crack you.

Love,

Mom

P.S. I could never admit it to you
before when you did it to support me during my treatments, but please grow your
hair back. You don
’
t
look good with a shaved head. I blame Dad for dropping you on the coffee table
as a baby, but to go along with being a good egg, your head is kinda shaped
like one. Grow it back out. The ladies will thank me.

 
If it was possible to fall in love with
someone in a totally platonic way, and to also have that someone be dead, that
just happened. Leo
’
s
mother was incredible. And the funny thing was, as I sat at the foot of the bed
reading her letter to him, I think I actually fell in love with Leo a little
bit. It was no secret that we didn
’
t
know each other well. I
’
d
had the hope of who he would turn out to be, but these qualities his mother
penned in what I assumed to be her final moments shed so much light on the man
that already intrigued me to no end.

It
wasn
’
t
mine to read, that much I knew. But what a gift to see Leo through his mother
’
s eyes. Honestly, I couldn
’
t think of anyone that would be able
to give a better assessment of someone than their own mother, flesh and blood.
Granted, mine would probably have some choice things to say about me had anyone
quizzed her on the subject, but there would be hints of truth in all of it, no
doubt. She knew me in a way no one else did. Of course I loved my mom and was
grateful for everything she
’
d
done in my life, but I realized you didn
’
t
have to be best friends with someone to love them.

My
eyes welled with tears at the thought that maybe Leo and his mom were that,
though. Not just mother and son, but actual, genuine friends. And how
tragically awful to lose your best friend before you
’
d even turned fifteen.

That
was more than I could handle.

Thrusting
the heel of my hand to swipe away the tears forming, I dropped the letter back
into the drawer and bolted out of the bedroom.
 

There
was that noise now in the kitchen that hinted at life beginning to stir. The
aroma that wafted through the halls confirmed my suspicion that morning was
indeed in full swing in the Carducci Villa. I wasn
’
t sure who would greet me once I made
my way into the kitchen, but it didn
’
t
really matter, so long as Leo was there.

And
he was.

Situated
in an overstuffed brocade armchair, he had one leg crossed loosely over the
over, an Italian newspaper in one hand, a coffee mug in the other. Sunlight
filtered through the expansive windows, catching the dust and making it shine
like golden specs of glitter dancing in air. Even the dust here was beautiful!