fate!”
“That’s what he said, too. I can’t quite get on board with that idea, but I am pretty blown away by the fact that we were drawn to each other twice, more than a decade apart.”
“It was meant to be.”
“I can’t stop thinking about him,” I admitted. “I feel like a giddy high school kid, which is kind of funny, since that’s exactly what I was the first time I met him.”
Nana soon rejoined us, and we brainstormed some ideas for her singles mixer as we had a few more cocktails. After a while, I glanced up and saw Luca across the lobby, near the front desk. I jumped up and went to say hello, intercepting him as he headed toward the door. “Hey,” I said, “you’re back! Want to join us in the bar? My family and I seem to keep gravitating there.”
I could tell something was wrong the instant he turned to face me. Luca stared at me for a long moment, some sort of strong emotion churning in the depths of his green eyes. “I’m sorry, I can’t,” he finally managed.
I reached for him, and when he took a step back from me, it hurt more than it should have. I tried to downplay it as I said, “Okay. Are we still on for dinner tonight?”
“I can’t,” he said again, backing toward the door. “Please tell your grandmother I’m sorry. I’ll talk to you later, okay?”
“Luca, what’s wrong?”
He didn’t answer me. Instead, he turned and left the hotel, walking quickly, never looking back. I stood rooted to the spot, staring after him, wondering what the hell happened. Part of me wanted to run after him, but the ‘stay away’ message had been loud and clear.
I walked slowly back to the bar and sank onto my chair. “Wasn’t that Luca?” Jessie asked.
“It was. He, um, he had to go. He can’t make it to dinner, so we’re on our own.” I picked up my drink and finished it in two swallows.
“Is everything okay?” Nana asked.
“Yeah, fine. He was just distracted by something.” I changed the subject by saying, “If you want, maybe we can get a car and drive up to Catania for dinner. Afterwards, we can visit a few of those clubs and hand out flyers.” They agreed to that readily and began talking animatedly about the night ahead. I just stared into the lobby, wishing for Luca’s return.
*****
That night, I went with Nana and Jessie to the biggest, loudest gay nightclub in Catania, but my heart wasn’t in it. While they got drunk, danced and chatted with the locals, I sat by myself with a diet soda (since I’d appointed myself designated driver). I turned down every invitation to dance, and shut down everyone who tried to start a conversation with me, even though I was approached by a lot of good-looking men. I just couldn’t stop thinking about Luca. No one else held my interest.
Finally, I went outside where it was quieter and called the hotel. When someone at the front desk answered, I said, “Buona sera. Corallo suite, per favore.”
I was asked to wait a moment, and then the desk clerk came back on the line and told me in Italian, “Mr. Caruso is not answering. Would you care to leave a message?”
I left my name and cell number with the message to please call me, and once we disconnected, I lingered outside for a while with the phone in my hand, hoping he’d call right back. Of course that didn’t happen, so eventually I put my phone away and returned to the club.
I tried to cut across one corner of the crowded dance floor, but was stopped short when the crowd parted to make room for a couple who thought they were on the set of Saturday Night Fever. As I stood there trying to be patient, another couple sat down at my relatively quiet table in the corner. I stifled a sigh.
A pair of hands grasped my hips from behind, and someone leaned against me and said in Italian in my ear, somewhat loudly to be heard over the pulsing music, “Hi handsome, want to dance?”
I turned around to deliver a polite thanks but no thanks, but then I exclaimed,
“That’s what he said, too. I can’t quite get on board with that idea, but I am pretty blown away by the fact that we were drawn to each other twice, more than a decade apart.”
“It was meant to be.”
“I can’t stop thinking about him,” I admitted. “I feel like a giddy high school kid, which is kind of funny, since that’s exactly what I was the first time I met him.”
Nana soon rejoined us, and we brainstormed some ideas for her singles mixer as we had a few more cocktails. After a while, I glanced up and saw Luca across the lobby, near the front desk. I jumped up and went to say hello, intercepting him as he headed toward the door. “Hey,” I said, “you’re back! Want to join us in the bar? My family and I seem to keep gravitating there.”
I could tell something was wrong the instant he turned to face me. Luca stared at me for a long moment, some sort of strong emotion churning in the depths of his green eyes. “I’m sorry, I can’t,” he finally managed.
I reached for him, and when he took a step back from me, it hurt more than it should have. I tried to downplay it as I said, “Okay. Are we still on for dinner tonight?”
“I can’t,” he said again, backing toward the door. “Please tell your grandmother I’m sorry. I’ll talk to you later, okay?”
“Luca, what’s wrong?”
He didn’t answer me. Instead, he turned and left the hotel, walking quickly, never looking back. I stood rooted to the spot, staring after him, wondering what the hell happened. Part of me wanted to run after him, but the ‘stay away’ message had been loud and clear.
I walked slowly back to the bar and sank onto my chair. “Wasn’t that Luca?” Jessie asked.
“It was. He, um, he had to go. He can’t make it to dinner, so we’re on our own.” I picked up my drink and finished it in two swallows.
“Is everything okay?” Nana asked.
“Yeah, fine. He was just distracted by something.” I changed the subject by saying, “If you want, maybe we can get a car and drive up to Catania for dinner. Afterwards, we can visit a few of those clubs and hand out flyers.” They agreed to that readily and began talking animatedly about the night ahead. I just stared into the lobby, wishing for Luca’s return.
*****
That night, I went with Nana and Jessie to the biggest, loudest gay nightclub in Catania, but my heart wasn’t in it. While they got drunk, danced and chatted with the locals, I sat by myself with a diet soda (since I’d appointed myself designated driver). I turned down every invitation to dance, and shut down everyone who tried to start a conversation with me, even though I was approached by a lot of good-looking men. I just couldn’t stop thinking about Luca. No one else held my interest.
Finally, I went outside where it was quieter and called the hotel. When someone at the front desk answered, I said, “Buona sera. Corallo suite, per favore.”
I was asked to wait a moment, and then the desk clerk came back on the line and told me in Italian, “Mr. Caruso is not answering. Would you care to leave a message?”
I left my name and cell number with the message to please call me, and once we disconnected, I lingered outside for a while with the phone in my hand, hoping he’d call right back. Of course that didn’t happen, so eventually I put my phone away and returned to the club.
I tried to cut across one corner of the crowded dance floor, but was stopped short when the crowd parted to make room for a couple who thought they were on the set of Saturday Night Fever. As I stood there trying to be patient, another couple sat down at my relatively quiet table in the corner. I stifled a sigh.
A pair of hands grasped my hips from behind, and someone leaned against me and said in Italian in my ear, somewhat loudly to be heard over the pulsing music, “Hi handsome, want to dance?”
I turned around to deliver a polite thanks but no thanks, but then I exclaimed,
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