Romeo of the Streets (15 page)

My mother was sitting in the large conservatory area facing the gardens when I found her and I walked down to her couch, sitting beside her as I placed my arm on her shoulder.

“Hey mom,” I smiled.

She turned to look at me and I was a little saddened by how much older she looked, even though it had only been a couple of weeks since my last visit. Every time I came out here she seemed older, the lines on her face a little deeper, the cogency in her eyes slightly duller.

“Who’s that?” she asked.

It was funny, as the disease took more and more of a hold over her throughout the years the Sicilian tinge in her accent had become more and more pronounced. When I was a little girl you would have thought she was as American as anybody else (and she practically was, having spent most of her life here. Both my parents had emigrated from Sicily at a young age, separately of course—only meeting each other later in the Orange Grove.) Now though, it was like all those years in between were slowly being wiped from existence. It was no wonder she didn’t recognize us.

It’s me, mom,” I said, “Sandy. Sandra.”

“Ah,” she smiled, nodding in what was a clear attempt at fake understanding. “Sandra, of course. How’s your father?”

I knew she didn’t mean my real father—she would ask for him later, surely—but still I winced.

“Look what I brought you,” I said, taking the rose from my pocket. “It’s from Gino.”

Her face lit up with recognition and my pleasure at seeing her joy was tinged with a sadness at the fact that she never responded to
my
name that way—though I knew in my heart that if her mind had remained intact she would have twice the glow now to think of me and Lou. It was almost a blessing that she didn’t know what it was that she’d lost.

“Gino?” she said, “why, that scoundrel! It’s beautiful. May I?”

I passed her the flower and she held it to her nose, taking pleasure in its gentle fragrance.

“He better watch out Luigi don’t see it, eh?” she chuckled, “he not be so happy!”

“No,” I said quietly, “though I’m sure he wouldn’t mind between friends.”

“Yes,” Mom nodded, “between friends. Do you know where he is my girl? Have you seen him?” She studied my face. “Have you seen my husband, Luigi?”

It was always the same. It was like she’d been stuck for eternity in some terrible loop, doomed to repeat the same solitary moment over and over again. She no longer recognized her children and she would be looking for her husband forever. I couldn’t end up like that, I refused to. How many families on the Orange Grove entered their twilight years in tragedy, I wondered? How many widows? It wasn’t fair, it wasn’t right, and that was why I could not be with Romeo Mancini.

But you know, even though I really did feel that sentiment strongly, part of me still wanted to see him. I told myself that it would be for the best if I let him know where things stood between us as soon as possible—that if he cared for me anywhere near as much as I did for him, it would be wrong to let him go on thinking that there was any possibility of a serious relationship between us—but looking back now, I think that no matter what my mind was telling me to do, my heart just wanted to see him again and any excuse would have sufficed.

As I left the nursing home that afternoon I sent him a text, asking him if he’d like to meet me for a coffee. I’d never actually deliberately tried to arrange a meeting with Romeo before, but I presumed that it probably wouldn’t be a simple procedure. In fact the guy acted like so much of a mystery that Lisa had told me once that even Lou didn’t know where he was half the time.

Nonetheless, before I’d even reached the gates, my phone beeped with his return message.

“
Hey Sandy, I’d love to but I’m downtown at the minute. Don’t suppose you can make it out here. If not maybe tomorrow – R
.”

I had no idea what kind of business Romeo would have in the city that day (he certainly hadn’t mentioned anything the night before, but then again why would he? He knew how much I disapproved of his “work”), but the way I was feeling I was more than willing to make the trek out to join him. It wasn’t that far from the rest home anyway, though it
would
mean a longer and more convoluted journey back to my apartment afterward. Nonetheless it was what I wanted to do, especially because if Lisa and Lou’s night had gone well the evening before (and if it hadn’t then I would have heard about it by now) the apartment would be totally deserted and I didn’t feel much like being alone right then. It was possible, maybe even likely, that meeting with Romeo now would only result in more sadness over all, but I still had to see him. I guess the heart wants what the heart wants.

I took the L up to the corporate and financial district of the city which was, for who knows what crazy reason, where Romeo was working and said he had to stay close to that day. As I sat in the train, watching the buildings of the city move by me, I wondered just how far into the criminal underworld Romeo and Lou had gone—surely not so deep that they now had connections in the upper-income professional corners of the city? The thought of Lou teaming up with white collar criminals was too bizarre to even think about. What did they call that Enron movie, “
The Smartest guys in the Room
”? I thought of Romeo and Lou in pinstripe bankers’ suits constructing a financial conspiracy in the upper offices of some gleaming city skyscraper—Lou tapping a pie chart with a wooden pointer and Romeo standing grim-faced beside him—and laughed into the back of my hand. The idea was too preposterous.

Romeo had suggested we meet in a little French place at a busy street corner that was swarming with professionals on their way about their business and the clientele inside were much the same, jabbering into cellphones or talking loudly to their colleagues over strong espressos and buttery French pastries. At first I thought I’d arrived before him, until he called my name from a booth way down at the back of the place, beside the door to the kitchens. Jeez Romeo I thought, way to keep things on the down-low. If he was any more out of the way in this place he’d be all the way back outside again.

“Hey,” I waved, “you hiding from an ex-girlfriend or something?”

Romeo smiled, standing up as I joined him and sitting again as I did. “Not exactly.”

I was silent for a moment, unsure of how to broach the subject that I’d come there expressly to talk about. “You order yet?” I asked, deciding to avoid it for now and just enjoy being in his strong, masculine presence.

“No,” he said, “I was waiting for you.”

“Well here I am,” I said.

Romeo stared at me, his big brown eyes serious and searching. For the first time that day, I realized how tired he looked. “Listen,” he said, “would you do it? I’m not avoiding anybody exactly, but at the same time I’m not supposed to be seen here right now. It’s complicated.”

I rolled my eyes. At least such complications and subterfuge would no longer be my concern, I considered, but was that enough to make it truly worth it to do what I’d come there to do? To forbid myself from that which I really desired—the soft brush of his lips against my own again, the fresh taste of his kiss that had seemed the night before to banish all other worries and concerns from my mind completely. “Whatever,” I said, doing my best to hide my own inner turmoil, “Americano, right?”

“Yeah,” Romeo said, “black, unsweetened.”

I ordered the coffees and waited until they arrived, carrying them back to the table myself, reasoning that by the look of him Romeo would prefer not to deal with the waiters in person right now. What the hell was he even up to out here, I wondered?

“Thanks,” he said, taking a sip before setting his coffee cup down again on the table. He looked at me and sighed. “Listen, about last night…”

“Yeah, I’ve been meaning to talk to you about that, I think—”

“I don’t think it’s a good idea for us to see each other,” he said, cutting me off and causing the words to catch in my mouth.

No, I had not been expecting that, but for some reason I smiled right then, which was strange because I didn’t feel it in my heart, not at all. In fact, I felt the opposite, I felt stung—almost betrayed—by his words. “What?” I said.

“Sandy,” Romeo frowned, watching me intensely and reaching out to take my hand in his, “I really care about you, you know that, right?”

“Romeo…”

“But this isn’t the right thing for us. You and me, it wouldn’t be right. I could get called back to New York at any moment by my uncles and you—well, you need to stay away from guys who are involved in what I’m involved in. Period.”

I took my hand from his and giggled, the laughter sounding phony even to my own ears. All I wanted to do right then was reach out and grab him again, throw myself into his dominant embrace. It took everything I had just to keep the quaver from my voice when I spoke. “Romeo,” I said, “this may seem like I’m just saying this after that, but I came here to say the exact same thing to
you
.”

He stared at me and, for just a second, I thought I saw hurt in those deep, impossible eyes… and then the expression disappeared completely, reverting back to his standard unreadable composure. “You don’t say…” he said.

“Yes,” I smiled, “I care about you too Romeo, you’re a good guy and I wish to hell you’d get out of that gang stuff for your own sake, but it’s your life and I’m not going to try to change you to fit into mine. You are who you are and that’s ok. It’s fine.”

“Yeah,” Romeo nodded, definitely looking a little uncertain now, “yeah, exactly,” he said.

Had he meant those words himself, I wondered? Because somehow I couldn’t shake the sense that he desired me at the moment just as much as I longed for him and if that was so, was this really the right thing to do after all?

“I think we can still be friends,” I said, forcing myself to go on, “and as long as you’re still buddies with Lou—and as long as Lisa’s still going out with him—then I’m sure we’ll still see each other all the time.”

“Of course,” Romeo said, but he avoided my eyes as he said it, and I sensed that there was something he wasn’t telling me. If I’d known what he was really going through in his own life right then, I think I might have thrown myself at him—covered him in kisses if only to try to soothe the terrible danger he was under—but how could I have known?

“Everything’s ok with you and Lou, right?” I said.

“Sure,” Romeo answered, “of course. Why do you even ask?”

“I don’t know,” I shrugged, “but you remember the promise you made to me about him, right?”

He actually appeared to be almost in pain now and when he answered, he looked up and directly at me. “Yes,” he said. “I do.”

We parted ways on good terms—like friends—and I was definitely feeling positive all the way back to the L station, when out of nowhere and for no good reason I could think of, tears started streaming down my face. I couldn’t understand why I felt so sad all of a sudden and, feeling averse to the judgmental eyes of others, I rushed into the restrooms to clean myself up.

An older, professional looking-woman was fixing her makeup when I entered, rushing past her to the sink to run the hot-water faucet and clean up my streaming mascara. As I waited to splash water on my face, she placed her hand gently on my shoulder and said “All men are pigs, sweetheart,” before walking back out of the restroom again. I couldn’t help but laugh—choked noises that sounded manic, halfway between joy and heartbreak.

For the next two or three weeks things were quiet, me and Lisa had some big tests coming up and that occupied most of our spare time and attentions (no more cocktail nights for now until things were back in the clear, that last streak had cost us all) and though Lou stopped by the cafeteria to have lunch with Lisa every now and then, I didn’t see him nearly as much as I had over the previous weeks and I only saw Romeo Mancini once in all that time and even then only from a distance, when he stopped by the campus to pick up Lou. He’d given me a friendly, almost over-the-top platonic wave and I returned one that must have looked exactly the same, kind of hating myself for it as I did. Sitting in the car in the backseat behind him I noticed were those two thugs from the Orange Grove who’d been with them the night of the Delta Gamma party. The creepy one, the guy they called Eyeballs or something like that, was staring straight at me and when our eyes met he smiled and gave me a strange little nod.

Gino finally got out of the hospital and, with the help of a sleek black walking-stick (a joint gift from Lisa and Lou), had now re-opened the café at full working hours. Back at the helm, he seemed happier than ever and I was delighted to have the chance to work with him again whenever I could.

One day around lunchtime, I walked into the cafeteria and nearly jumped out of my own skin with shock. Lisa had gone ahead to meet Lou while I printed out some papers in the library and now, not only was her boyfriend sitting with her at their table, but she was also joined by three other men. It was the two hoods from the Grove, Lou and Romeo’s gangster friends, as well as an older man who was maybe in his late twenties or early thirties and looked every inch the wiseguy gangster that he most certainly was. Unsurprisingly, Lisa seemed absolutely mortified. What the actual hell, I thought…

Taking a deep breath and well aware that everybody else in the cafeteria besides the guys at Lisa’s table were staring at me now, I walked slowly towards them. Jesus Christ, this was bad. What were these guys doing here? Hadn’t Lisa warned Lou to keep this shit away from us? I was so mad at my brother I didn’t even know how to find the words.

“Lisa,” I nodded. “Lou, you want to tell me what’s going on here?”

“Uh, hey sis,” Lou said, sheepishly glancing up at me. His girlfriend didn’t say a word—she didn’t have to, because the look she gave me then told me everything I needed to know. It was time to get her away from here as fast as I possibly could.

“Hey, you must be Sandy!” the older guy said, “Your brother’s told us all about you.”