Friends Without Benefits (Knitting in the City) (22 page)

The most distressing—one of t
he songs that I’d never heard before—was a very low key, somewhat uncategorizable genre, pseudo rock song. It was about the last days of a person’s life from the perspective of the one left behind.

The line just before the chorus, and the chorus for that matter, caused a lump to form in my throat. The singer stated:
Love is watching someone die
which was then followed by a chanting: W
hose going to watch you die?

It gave me chills, instantly made me think of Gar
rett and his last months; hospice coming to his house, sitting with him the week before he died, watching him sleep. Musically, the song was remarkable and beautiful, and I loved everything about it other than the words. I had no desire to hear it again.

There were a total of seventeen
songs. I’d stopped my yoga poses for the last two and, instead, laid on the couch, just listening to the music. The last stanza of The Drifters’s “Save the Last Dance for Me”
marked the end of the CD.

I didn’t get up
. Instead I lay on the sofa and stared at the ceiling, only the faint sounds of Chicago traffic marring the silence. Nico was right. The music he’d selected for the CD was
good
music. I missed good music.

I walked to the stereo and hit play again.

~*~

I listen
ed to the CD over and over for the rest of the day—another attempt at yoga, doing laundry, bills, checking email, knitting two more newborn hats, then starting on Angelica’s sweater, eating Chinese takeout—but always skipped song number six, the one about being left behind.

When
9:45 p.m. rolled around I wandered up to Nico’s penthouse.

I felt strangely satisfied after spending the afternoon listening to good music
, and I was excited to see Nico. I knocked on the door before I opened it with my key, hopped in, and bounced to the living room. All the hopping and bouncing—quite unlike me—betrayed my anticipation.

I heard noise coming from the kitchen so I called out, let anyone in the vicinity know I’d arrived, then crossed to the infusion chair to prep the space for Angelica.

“Hi Elizabeth! I’m in here. Just give me a minute to finish up.” Rose called from the kitchen. A moment later she came out holding a plate full of biscotti and a cup of tea. “Well, these are for you. Let me go get Angelica. She’s been asleep for the last few hours.”

“I’ll get her.” I
offered, moved toward Angelica’s bedroom without waiting for a response. “Isn’t Nico here?”

“No. But he should be right back. You
just missed him when you left earlier. He and Angelica have been playing My Little Pony all afternoon, bless him. They wore each other out I think. And now he’s gone to the market before it closes.” Rose set my tea and biscotti on the coffee table.

“You sent him to the market? Won’t he be recognized?”

She tossed her hand in the air, waved off my concern. “I need fresh sweet basil. The least he can do for his mother is help out around here once and a while.”

“Why not just send one of the guards?”

“They wouldn’t know sweet basil from oregano. He’ll be fine. He likes to do it.” With that, she walked back to the kitchen; a moment later I heard the unmistakable sound of dishes being done.

I
found Angelica asleep in her room, her face covered with a night mask connected to her breathing apparatus. I carefully picked up her small body in my arms and wheeled the apparatus after us. It would be ideal to interrupt her sleep only briefly while administering the study drug.

One of her small hands rested on my chest over my heart as I carried her. I
smiled, felt warmed by the contact, and deposited her gingerly into the living room. Rose sauntered out of the kitchen just as I finished the infusion and took Angelica’s vital signs. Rose handed me a blanket, which I used to wrap up the little slumbering patient, and I carried her back to her bed.

Before I left her room I kissed her on the forehead. Something about
a sleeping Angelica, likely a fairy dust she exudes while dreaming, makes leaving her without a kiss completely impossible. I also loitered by her bed, watched her sleep, brushed her hair from her face. Then, telling myself I was being ridiculous, I kissed her hand and left.

As soon as I emerged from the hallway I glanced at my watch. It was 10:45 p
.m.

“Come sit next to me and have some tea
. I made these cookies just for you.” Rose patted the sofa beside her; she held her cup of tea as well and was wiping crumbs of biscotti from her bathrobe.

I wanted to stay. I hoped Nico would come home soon so I could talk to him about the CD. I liked the idea of chatting with Rose and catching up on all the
Manganiello gossip. I liked her biscotti, and I loved peppermint tea.

And,
I had a dark, empty apartment downstairs full of nothing interesting. So, I stayed.

At first Rose talked a bit about the family and the restaurant
with swift precision. She made her way through all her children—in order from oldest to youngest—and focused a bit longer on those who were not married, who were career-minded.

It was the
tea and cookies that ultimately led to my downfall.

Rose had
successfully distracted me with yummy treats and, therefore, I didn’t realize until it was too late that her not so subtle hints—about community and family and love being much more important than work—were leading to a stealth attack.

“Take for example you and Nico.”

I stopped moving my jaw mid-chew and stared at her, likely resembling a deer caught in semi-truck headlights. She smiled, like a fox, and continued.

“Nico is twenty
-seven now, did you know that? He may not realize it yet, but he’s ready to settle down with the right girl, start a family. I feel certain that the two of you have been brought back together for a divine purpose. I always said to your mother that the two of you were meant to be.”

I gulped my tea, swallowing a large chunk of the almond cookie and glanced at my w
rist where I wasn’t wearing a watch. “It’s getting really late Rose, and I have to get up early for Angelica’s next—”

She placed a staying hand on mine, held me hostage with her clever eyes and authoritative posturing. “No. You’re going to stay with me for a minute. I want to talk about this with you. You might think it’s none of my business, but Nico’s happiness,
your
happiness—these things are my business. I love you and care about you, I held you when you were a baby.”

“Rose
.” I closed my eyes, hoped she’d yield to the pleading within my voice.

“I’m not going to leave it alone until you explain to me why you don’t like my son.”

My eyes flew open. “I do like your son!”

“Is it me? The family?”

“No. You know I love your family.”

“You think you’re too good for him? Because you’re a doctor?” She pushed.

“God, no! It’s the other way around. He is definitely too good for me.”

“Nonsense. At least be honest with me.”

“I am. I’m being honest.” I set my cup down and turned to face her more completely. “I know you think I’d be good for your son; but, I promise you, I wouldn’t. He deserves so much more, so much better than me. He . . .” I let my face fall into my hands. “He’s such a bright shining star of awesomeness. He’s sweet and clever and so damn funny. He needs a girl whose name can be blended with his to form one of those Hollywood super-couple combinations—like Benifer or Bradjalina. Our name together is Nicabeth or Elizaco. That’s awful.”

“
What are you talking about?”

My hands fell to my lap
, and I shook my head; I met her silver-green eyes directly. “I’m not for him. I’m not like him. I’m ordinary, my feet touch the ground. And, honestly, I haven’t worked through all my issues.”

“
Elizabeth Finney, you are extraordinary. And for heaven’s sake, no one ever works through all their issues. Perfection is the definition of boring.”

“
But I carry baggage. I’m stubborn and selfish and I’ve hurt him.”

“And he still loves you.”

“But he shouldn’t. He shouldn’t love me after what I did.”

“What did you do?”

“I can’t tell you.”

“Because I’m his mother?”

“Because I don’t want you to hate me.” I answered honestly then latched on to my selfish self-preservation as another reason Nico and I were not suited. “See? I’m a coward. Surely Nico deserves better than that?”

“Yes. He does. He does deserve better than that.”

I searched her gaze. Before I could respond she continued.

“But you also deserve better than that. I don’t know what happened to make you feel so down on yourself, so undeserving of happiness, but I can tell you that your mother would be appalled.”

I studied my fingers, unable to hold her gaze. “I’m not down on myself. I just don’t want . . . I don’t want . . .”

“Happiness? Someone to love you?
Is this why you try to hide the fact that you make all those baby hats and wanted me to give Angelica your gift last week? You don’t want someone to care for you?”

“Yes.”

“Why not?”

“Because he’s not Garrett.”
My heart was carried out of my body through a loud exhale. My stomach actually cramped.

“Oh, honey
.” She
tsked
. I felt her sympathy though my stare was firmly affixed to my hands.

“That’s not exactly right
. I just don’t ever want to—it’s like—” I turned my eyes to the ceiling. “I know it was a long time ago. I know it’s been eleven years and I can honestly say I’m not carrying around my love for Garrett like it’s a burden. It’s not holding me back, it’s keeping me grounded. I remember loving him and I remember the good. But, I can’t do that again. I can’t do that again with anyone.”

“Because you’re afraid?”

“No.” I pressed my fingers to my chest. “Because
I
can’t. Because I don’t think I’m actually capable of returning those kinds of feelings. If I tried and I couldn’t, I can’t bear the thought of hurting Nico.”

Rose was silent until my eyes lowered and met hers. She was watching me with a sober smile. Her pretty eyes framed with lines of wisdom and grace.

“You are stubborn,” she said.

“I am.”

Rose breathed in through her nose, glanced over my shoulder as though clearing her vision, then leaned forward. Her gaze pierced mine, held it hostage. “Let me just say something, you don’t need to say anything—okay? Just listen.”

I nodded, not sure what to expect from this woman I’d known and respected and, honestly,
admired my whole life. I felt like I was letting her down. But, I’d rather deal with her moderate disappointment now than incur her wrath by breaking Nico’s heart later.

“
Dio li Fa, poi li accoppia
[5]
.”
She paused after making this proclamation in Italian. I stared at her blankly; she smiled swiftly. “Despite what you say, I do know that you and my Niccolò will make each other very happy. In fact, I think part of you is already in love with him too. Why else would you be fighting so hard to protect his heart?” She held my gaze, and I fought a chin wobble. “I think you push him away mostly because you fear getting hurt, losing someone else, like you lost dear Garrett. He really was a beautiful boy. . . but there is something else you need to know. Since you’ve been so honest with me I feel I should be honest with you.”

“Ok
ay.”

“
I have to warn you that I’m going to be relentlessly working to get you and Nico married.”

I frowned. Blinked. “Um
. . . What?”

She placed a well
-manicured hand over mine and squeezed. “One day you’ll find out what it is to have children. How you want to give them everything their heart desires, especially when it’s good for them. His heart wants you, Elizabeth. It has always wanted you. Since the two of you were children his heart has known that you are
the one
. That the two of you
belong
together. And I have watched him struggle with his heart all his life.

“
As you know, I love to spoil my children and the people I love. So, again, yes, I know you two will be very happy together when it happens and that is wonderful. But also, selfishly, as a mother’s prerogative, I think he deserves to get everything he wants and if that just so happens to be the lovely, clever, stubborn daughter of my dearest friend—God rest her beautiful soul— then so be it.”

I opened my mouth to respond
, but couldn’t. I gaped. I stared at this woman who sat before me as though seeing her for the first time, and I really
looked
. I really
saw
her.

She was completely insane.