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Authors: Margaret McHeyzer

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BOOK: A Life Less Broken
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Chapter 21

“If you want
an early dinner, we need to leave now so we have enough time to get the
furniture store first to find you a mirror,” Dominic calls from the front door.

My stomach
is in knots and I’ve locked myself away in the bathroom. The butterflies are fluttering
like crazy in my stomach.

“Alright,” I
call out, not knowing how the hell I’m going to find the courage to leave this
bathroom.

“Allyn,”
Dominic says from the other side of the door. “Can you hear me?”

“Yeah, I can
hear you.”

“Do you know
what I’m looking forward to?” He’s trying his signature distraction technique,
but right now, it’s not working.

I wring my
hands together, nervous that I’m going out to be among people for the first time
since that day.

“What?”

“I’m
ordering the tortellini tonight. Yummo, the Nonna who’s the cook, makes it in
this rich, creamy, white sauce. It’s laden with cheese and butter and bacon and
mushrooms. And the tortellini itself is home made. But the thing about her restaurant
is you never really know what the house specialty will be until you get there.
Everything she makes is so delicious.”

“It is?” I
call out from inside the bathroom.

“Oh yeah,
one time I went there and the only thing she was offering was soup and garlic
bread. That was all. And you know what? It was pumpkin soup, something I’d
never tried before. Have you ever had pumpkin soup?”

I open the
bathroom door and look at Dominic. I can only imagine the perplexed look I must
have on my face, because…pumpkin soup? Really? “No, I’ve never had pumpkin soup
before. How was it?”

“It was so
damned good, I asked for a second bowl. So I have no idea what we’ll get
tonight. In a way, I hope it’s lasagna, but really, it’s whatever she felt like
making.” He shrugs his shoulders then holds his hand out to me.

“I’m not
sure what to have there then.”

Holding
hands, we walk to the door. The alarm’s already off, because I’ve being leaving
the wooden door open with the screen door locked. Dominic unlocks the screen door
and pushes it open for me to walk through.

I take a
deep breath and step outside onto the porch.

Dominic sets
the alarm and taking my keys, locks the house. He stands beside me and wraps his
arm around my waist. “Ready?”

I slide my
hand into the back pocket of his jeans and we walk to his car, like any normal
couple.

“You have to
try her iced tea. She makes the best I’ve ever tasted. But she may not feel
like making it today. It really is pot luck with her.” He opens the door for me
and I easily slide in.

When
Dominic’s seated beside me in the car, there’s a comfortable silence between
us. He presses something on the steering wheel and soft music starts to fill
the car.

“I can never
drive.”

“I know.”
Dominic continues to drive and pay attention to the road.

“If I ever
want to go somewhere I’ll either have to go by public transport or a cab.”

“Or me. I’m
happy to take you wherever you want to go.”

“But you
have to work,” I say as I turn my head to look at him.

“No I don’t
have to, I choose to.”

“What does
that mean?”

“It means I
come from a long line of money, and I’ve made a lot of my own, too. It means
that we can live comfortably for an eternity or longer. It means that you and I
won’t ever have to worry about money, ever.”

“Why are you
including me in that statement?” I ask, perplexed by the bizarre words that he
just rattled off.

“Because I
see you in my future, and if you’re with me, you don’t need to worry.  I’ll
look after you.”

“That’s not
how this works. I don’t need your money, Dominic.”

“I’m sorry
if I gave you the impression I thought you needed it, because you’ve done fine
on your own financially. I’m saying that I’m going to look after you because I
care for you.”

I’m
momentarily stunned.  Clearly, Dominic is serious about his feelings for me. A
thought occurs to me as I look out the window and ponder his protective manner.

“Dominic,
what have you been doing with the checks that I’ve been giving you at the end
of each week?”

His jaw
flexes, and he doesn’t answer. I can tell he’s hiding the truth from me.

“Dominic?” I
question him.

“Um,
nothing.” His eyes focus on the road and he doesn’t look at me.

I press the
button on the radio to turn off the background music.

“What do you
mean by ‘nothing’?” I say, signaling air quotes when I say ‘nothing’.

“Exactly
what the word implies. I’ve done nothing with them.”

“Have you cashed
them?”

Dominic
screws his face up a little and shakes his head.

“None of
them?” I ask.

“No. Don’t get
me wrong, at first I forgot to give them to Lauren to take to the bank. And then
well, you know,” he says coyly.

“No, I don’t
know, which is why I’m asking you.”

“Then we
happened. And before we happened, I knew I wanted us to happen, so there was no
need for your checks.”

“What? That
doesn’t even make sense.”

“It makes
sense in my head. It comes down to this… I don’t need your money, Allyn. I
don’t want it. Matter of fact, I want to be the man to look after you and fulfill
all your requirements. Regardless of whatever those wants or desires are, I
want it to be me who’s there for you.”

I’m stunned.
I don’t know what to say to him, so I remain quiet for the rest of the car ride
to the furniture store to get my mirror.

Or maybe,
it’s
our
mirror.

When we get
to the local Art Van Furniture store, Dominic parks the car and gets out to
open my door.

But I look
around the parking lot, and notice it’s fairly busy. There are people coming
and going, some carrying bags in their hands, and some with nothing.

“I can’t go
in there,” I say as I point toward the store.

“Why not?”

“There are people
everywhere.”

I can feel
myself begin to shiver and my eyes are darting everywhere, looking around.
Scanning. Making sure there’s no one suspicious around.

“Yes, there are
people everywhere. But the mirrors are inside that store. And unless you’ve
developed telekinetic powers like x-ray vision, then the only way you’re going
to be able to get the mirror you want for your room is to go in there and buy
it.  I want you to take my hand and know I’m right beside you. I won’t let you fall.”

“There are
so many people,” I whisper to Dominic.

He squats
down beside the car and takes my hands in his.

“It doesn’t
matter where you go, there will always be people everywhere. But remember, I’m
right beside you, and I’ll move heaven and hell to ensure you’re safe. You need
to trust in yourself again or you’ll never be able to move forward. And I want
that beautiful mind as healthy as possible, because we both deserve our own
happiness, together.”

I gulp down
the huge, hard lump sitting in my throat.

Dominic
stands and extends his hand down to me.

Trembling, I
reach out to touch the warm fingers of the kind, generous man standing before
me.

Slowly I
slide out of the car and hold onto Dominic like he’s my buoy in rough seas.

“You can do
this,” he says and kisses me on the cheek.

Putting one
foot in front of the other and with several stops to slow my racing heart, we
finally enter the doors of Art Van Furniture.

My throat
begins to constrict, sweat beads on the back of my neck, and I can feel it trickling
down my spine. My stomach is in knots and as soon as we’re inside, it feels
like knives are relentlessly stabbing me in the stomach. My knees start to buckle
and I cling to Dominic with both arms tight around his waist.

“I can’t do
this.” A shrill, jittery voice replaces mine.

I’m quaking
and shivering and I can barely see straight. I begin to blink rapidly and I
feel myself becoming clammy all over as I start to slip into darkness.

“Okay, let’s
go.” Dominic turns us around to head out the door when I see a mirror that I
like.

“Wait, I
want that mirror.” Dominic stops us right in front of it. I can’t see my
reflection because Dominic is the one the mirror reflects from this angle.

“Do you want
us to get it now, or would you prefer I came back to get it tomorrow morning?”

“Can you
come back tomorrow please?” I ask. Even though my body’s calming, I can’t risk staying
here any longer.

“Of course.”
He bends and kisses me softly.

Immediately,
I lose my fear with his touch. My shoulders release the tension that held them rigid,
and I feel more at ease.

“C’mon, let
me take you to dinner,” he mumbles against my lips.

His warmth
illuminates my darkness, giving me hope that I’ll be okay someday.

When we get
back in the car, I sit quietly for a few moments and think about my reactions.

“I’m so
sorry for what happened back there.” I feel like I let Dominic down.

“You have
nothing to be sorry for. You did really well. You got out of the car, and even though
you recognized the trigger of all the people around, you went inside the store.
You even picked out a mirror you like. Really, there’s nothing for you to apologize
for.”

Hmmm. I chew
on my lip and let my gaze go to the outside surroundings.

“I suppose I
did all those things, didn’t I?” And suddenly it occurs to me that I didn’t
feel that awful, premonitory fear that something bad was about to happen. 
Maybe I am getting better.

I watch as
the sun moves over the hills, quickly disappearing as dusk falls upon us.

He’s right.
The restaurant is tiny. There are no more than ten tables inside and another
four outside on the incredibly snug terrace.

“Oh, Dominic.”
The old woman with gray hair piled on top of her head greets us. She grabs his
face and kisses him on each cheek.

I smile,
watching his face blush as the extravagant old woman pinches his cheeks.

“Who is this
bella ma travagliata
?” she says, kissing my cheeks before I can make a
move to stop her.

“Sorry, what
did you say?” I ask.

“I say you very
beautiful, but have many troubles,” she says in her thick accent. “But you be
alright. I see you happy,
bella
.”

Her words
take me a little aback and I don’t know if I should smile or cry. Am I so
broken that it’s obvious to everyone?

Or can this
old lady see something that only a blessed few can?


Sedersi,
sedersi
.” She points to a booth at the back of the restaurant.

“She’s
saying for us to sit down.” Dominic translates.

“Do you know
Italian?”

“Oh no, but
I’ve been here a lot of times and I understand a few words that she says, like,
sit.”

We seat
opposite each other and the old lady looks on with a huge smile, looking between
Dominic and me.

“I make for
you
insalata e lasagna
. You drink
chinotto
, you like.” She walks
away without us ordering anything. I’m not entirely sure what just happened.

“See? She’s a
force of nature. She’s bringing us a salad and lasagna and we’re drinking
chinotto
.
It’s a traditional Italian soda made from oranges. But it’s not exactly sweet,
it’s a little bitter-ish. It’s definitely an acquired taste.”

“Okay, I’ll
try it; if I don’t like it I’ll switch to water.”

I look
around the restaurant and notice just one other couple sitting inside, holding
hands and talking.

BOOK: A Life Less Broken
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