Jenny

The conversation was a revelation. It was the cold splash of water that forced me to face facts. I don’t know Nikos at all. Or more to the point, I only know the physical. That part of him is spectacular, which doesn’t help. I’ve had to try hard to get the images of us together out of my mind.

Can you fall for a man just because he’s beautiful and sexy? You shouldn’t. I know that. I’m smarter than that and stronger. Yeah. But oh, how it felt when he touched me. How it was to talk with him. But it all pales in the light of reason.

What if he has a drug problem?

What if he’s got a girlfriend?

Or three?

What if sex is all he has to give?

And worse than any other scenario I can imagine is the thought that what passed between us is nothing special to him. What I wanted from Peter was the physical. What I crave now from Nikos is the heart of him. Ironic that I yearned for sex from the holy man and a spiritual connection from the Vegas bad boy.

Sigmund Freud would have plenty to save about that.

And it’s already apparent I want much more. It’s also just as clear it’s not going to happen. I’m asking an orange to taste like an apple. If I had kept my own rules of conduct, I would have saved myself heartache, Nikos a broken elbow and a lost job, and Sophia a plate.

It’s getting increasingly difficult to be around him. The last few weeks have proved that. He tries everything there is to steal a look or a touch, but I’ve avoided getting in the position where we’re alone. Except during his physical therapy sessions, I have no problem focusing on my job then. It’s the moments in between that are difficult.

He usually calls at night, before he goes to bed. I can’t cut that off. I’ve gotten used to hearing his voice and the way he says goodnight. I know I’m stabbing myself in the heart and making things harder than it has to be. But it’s such a small blessing.

And soon that will be gone too.

I’ve taken to going to bed early. In bed by nine. Lights out at ten, waiting for his call. Television off by one. I’m having a hard time sleeping, although it’s the only escape from reality.

Why isn’t he calling tonight? I shut off the light an hour ago. Shit.

As if he felt my heart skipping a beat, the cell rings.

“Hi,” I say with a note of relief I’m unable to disguise.

“Hi you.”

“What’re you doing?”

“Waiting for Fallon to come on. What about you?” he says.

“The same. I want to see Justin Timberlake.”

“Great minds think alike.”

We both chuckle a little then there’s silence. But through the phone I feel something more than unspoken desire. The only thing is I think it’s all coming from me.

“Jenny, why are you being so distant? Did I do something?”

“I’m not being distant.”

“Come on. Let’s not pretend. Tell me what’s wrong and I’ll fix it.”

“It’s not something that can be fixed. I’m just trying to protect myself.”

“From what?” I stay silent because I’ve got to be careful what I say next.

“Tell me.”

“You’re leaving next week.”

“And?”

“And there’s no upside to continuing…well, I mean it would hurt too much to get any more involved.”

“Are you saying goodbye?”

“No. We still have a few days of therapy. But I will be after that.”

Now he’s silent, which embarrasses me.

“I want to thank you, Nikos, for one of the most beautiful days of my life. I’ll never forget how you made me feel,” I say.

“Why does it have to end? There’s these new inventions called phones and airplanes.”

“That wouldn’t work.”

“Why not?”

“Because I know I belong in St. Helena, and your “real world” is in Las Vegas.”

I hear the deep sigh that leaves his lips. But no denial.

“If it wasn’t that you’re so close to leaving I’d say maybe it’s better to say our goodbyes now. But you’re doing so good with your therapy and being that your injury was all my doing I want to see it through these first weeks.”

“I hate where this conversation has gone,” he says.

“It’s gone in the only direction it could.”

“I disagree. And I think it’s a mistake to be so rigid.”

“Well, that’s your prerogative. I’ve got to get some sleep, Nikos. I’ll see you tomorrow.” My voice breaks with emotion.

“Wait! What’re you doin’?”

But I disconnect, because I can’t hold the tears back one more second. We don’t have a ghost of a chance.

So when he calls back, I don’t answer.

Obviously I made an impression on him. Since that night last week he’s put up a wall. From that day he hasn’t given me one single look or made one comment that could be interpreted as a come on. When we’re together his focus has been on his exercises and listening to my instructions. Friendly and warm, but just a client and a therapist. Exactly as I hoped and precisely what I feared. Today has been more of the same.

“Okay Valentino, your turn.”

“Thanks. See you tomorrow,” Nikos says as he leaves the room. I watch him walk up the stairs and out of sight. A door closing punctuates the end of today’s appointment.

“Hello? You hoo, Jenny!”

I turn to see Valentino waving.

“I’m sorry! Were you talking to me?”

He tilts his head and smiles. “No. I was standing here showing you how strong my leg is getting. But you’re somewhere else I see.” He laughs.

Just what I want to avoid. Any impression of impropriety. If they knew what Nikos and I had been up to when the accident happened it would change the way they see me. I’ve barely known them a month and I care about their opinion. That’s how much respect I’ve come to have for this couple.

“No! I’m here with you. The leg’s really coming along beautifully. You’ve done well, Valentino.”

“Prego. But you’ve been overworked by the Santini family lately. I think you need to have a little fun. Sophia and I want to invite you to a party Saturday night.”

I hesitate with my answer, so he continues.

“It’s a thirtieth birthday celebration for Nikos. He’s leaving the next day to go back to Las Vegas, so we’re going to send him off with a celebration. Will you come?”

Every reasonable excuse I can think of in five seconds passes through my mind. They’re all rejected for my one-word answer. “Yes.”

Who is this woman living inside my brain, speaking for me? She ignored every firewall I put up.

“There’s a theme,” he says walking the path we’ve marked out around the room.

I watch intently, making sure he’s keeping the proper form and putting weight on both legs.

“What is it?”

“Sophia!” he calls her from the kitchen.

“What?” she says entering the room with her coffee.

“Jenny’s coming to the party. Tell her about the theme.”

She takes a seat with her legs tucked under her. The steaming mug gets placed on a coaster atop the end table.

“In the Santini family we celebrate the milestone birthdays in a unique way. Ten, twenty, thirty and so on. It started when Christos wanted a Mutant Ninja Turtle theme for his tenth. He loved it so much he told us he wanted it for every birthday for the rest of his life. Remember that, Valentino?”

He laughs and begins his second go around. “Of course. I think he regrets that now.”

“Why?” I say.

“Because we agreed! It started this tradition where every time one of our children turned ten they got to choose a theme that would follow them. But only on their landmark birthdays. And only with the family. Of course, what you love at ten isn’t what you necessarily want to do at forty. But we dress up and laugh and each decade it gets funnier.”

“Sixty-year-old Ninja Turtles are something to see,” Sophia says.

I start laughing and so do they.

“I love it. What’re some of the themes? And did you two get yours?”

Valentino takes a break, sitting on the couch next to his wife.

“Nikos is Dance Party. He was already taking lessons by ten and he could copy every dance on film or in music videos. He used to watch the Mickey Mouse Club and dance every day,” Valentino says.

Sophia jumps in. “Let’s see. Lana’s is the film Moonstruck, she was obsessed with that movie. Some years she’s Cher and others she’s one of the other characters. Nash came as the grandfather last year with six dogs! We laughed until a few of us peed our pants.”

“Nash’s is Michael Jackson, Alexanders’ Jurassic Park, Dion is Jumanji,” Valentino says.

“I’ve never been around a family that had so much fun with each other. It’s inspiring.”

“Thank you, dear.”

“And to your question about Sophia and my themes, we picked them for the year we had turned ten. I picked U.S.A., because my family immigrated in 1960 when I was that age.”

“And I chose the Beatles,” says Sophia.

“I’m glad you’re coming, Jenny. And Nikos will be too,” Valentino says.

“I have to say a proper goodbye,” I say.

“Do you?” Sophia says pointedly. “I mean, is it absolutely necessary for you two to say goodbye at all?”

I’m taken aback by her surprising comment and have no clue what my response should be. Thankfully Valentino takes the attention off me and onto his wife.

“Mi amore, you’re always telling me to not be so nosy. Now I’m telling you to keep that pretty little nose of yours to yourself. Let the children figure things out for themselves.”

Why did she say that?

What did he mean?

And how much do they know?

The questions swim in my mind as I get dressed for the party. In twelve hours it’ll all be a moot point. Nikos will be on his way home. My job as Valentino’s therapist winds down to twice a week visits, and I’m fairly certain the family and I go back to being friendly acquaintances.

But for tonight, for one last time with them, I’m going to have fun. I can’t second-guess myself because if I do, I’ll never make it out of the house. I’m weak. I know I am, but I don’t want to give up these last few hours.

I check myself out in the mirror, give myself a passing grade and head for the door. The ringtone of my cell stops me before I make it out. Peter.

“Hello, Peter.”

“Hello. I was just thinking of you and decided to call. How have you been?”

“Good. Nothing earth-shattering is happening. How about you?”

“Same ole, same ole. Question. Could I take you to breakfast tomorrow? I feel badly about how I walked out a few weeks ago without letting you talk. Let’s have a nice breakfast and this time I’ll listen.”

Shit.

I do not want to encourage him at all. But he’s a good man and deserves a better explanation of why we would never work. I like him as a friend and I hope I can keep him in my life. It’ll work if he really hears what I have to say.

“Alright. That sounds good. How about you pick me up at ten?”

“Great! I’ll be there at nine fifty-nine. Bye.”

Crap. I know that voice. It’s his idea of sexy. It never sounded so false as it did right then. It’s me though. I know it. I have a new definition of sexy. It’s not forced or false in any way. It flows from Nikos naturally and nothing I can do will erase it from my mind.

I left before I could be delayed by another phone call. Tonight’s for us, one last time. The Santini house is lit so perfectly. Up lights illuminate the two-story structure and cast a soft glow on the trees and plants. I’ve been standing at the door for a full minute just trying to get the courage to ring the bell. I straighten my dress for the third time and fluff my hair. The door swings open and he’s standing there.

“I tried to wait. I was looking out the peephole. Were you just hoping we’d sense your presence?”

He says it seriously but then that smile tells me he’s joking.

“I was just…I don’t know what I was doing.”

“Well, come in. The dance party’s started.”