Fire In His Eyes (19 page)

By Wedne
sday, we were on our way back to our dad’s place.  Thursday, Ana and I spent the day visiting our friends from high school and college borrowing our father’s car.  We spent the morning with Tammy, my dearest friend from college.  In the afternoon we went to see Ana’s best friend, Louisa, and her daughter, Veronica.

Friday, we went for a hike in the woods
with our dad, played cards in the afternoon, and then had dinner at a restaurant where we met my dad’s new girlfriend.  Ana and I were both anxious to get home, so we packed our bags for the return flight early the next morning.  All in all, it was a nice visit, and we enjoyed ourselves, but the highlight of each and every day for me was the phone call I got from Victor each night.  On the night before my return, he had told me, “I really, really miss you.  I didn’t think I would miss you this much.”  His words were sweet.  He did sound like he was missing me.  That had to be a good sign, right?  I was wrong.

Even though it was a five A.M. flight, I was happy about that. It just meant I would be seeing Victor soon.  He had told me the night before that he would be able to pick me up at the Tampa International Airport at 11:00AM.

When we got off the plane, we exited the terminal and took the shuttles to the main lobby.  I saw
Victor right away.  He stood leaning against a pole looking so good in faded, ripped jeans, and grey shirt, I could have gobbled him right up. I was that excited to see him.  It was funny, too, because he was also standing right next to hunky bartender boy and they did not know that the other one was picking up one of the sisters. Teddy was waving at my sister like crazy jumping up to see over the other passengers who had disembarked from the tram before us.  I looked at my sister and giggled.  She rolled her eyes at me and stated, “You’ve got your ride; I’ve got mine.”  She shrugged her shoulders and opened her arms as the hunky bartender ran in to them, picked her up and swung her around.  Shaking my head, I continued to walk to Victor, and got up on my tip toes to kiss him, but he turned his face and I caught him on the cheek just barely.  He was looking around nervously.  “Come on, babe.  I don’t have a lot of time.”  He turned and I, a little put off, followed him to the elevators.

In the elevator without listening ears, a little
miffed, and little envious at the way my sister had been met by Teddy, I remarked sarcastically, “Nice greeting.”

“Sorry,
I’m a . . .” he paused, “just a little distracted.  I told Juli—I would be back as soon as I could, and that I was helping a friend move.” He looked at me then and I saw panic.

“Who is Julie?”  I asked trying not to sound suspicious.

“A, a family member,” he replied and looked at his watch.

“Oh, o
kay, but why did you tell your family you were helping someone move, when you were coming to get me?” I was confused now.  He didn’t answer.  Then a light went on. “You haven’t told your family about me,” I thought out loud.

“Umm,
I . . . no . . . I did not know where this was going . . . I don’t tell my family about my one night stands.  Would you?”  He snapped.  I could see he was getting agitated.

“Umm, my sister maybe, but no, not the rest,” I answered truthfully. 
Then added because I was hurt, “But, we are not a one night stand. You could have mentioned me later.”

“You just never came up,” he said lamely
as the elevator door opened to let other passengers in.

When t
he elevator door opened onto the sixth floor he began to walk out peering at me to see if I was following.  He shook his head, and he took my suitcase then.  He just seemed to notice I had been dragging it along behind me this whole time.  “Sorry, about that,” he said indicating the suitcase and turned a little bit abashedly.  I followed in the parking lot practically jogging to keep up with his longer strides.

“Victor, please slow down,” I stated breathlessly.

“Oh, sorry,” he apologized again.  “We’re here, anyway.”  I looked around but did not see his car.  “My car wouldn’t start so I had to borrow this one from someone in my family, this Chevy here.”  I was standing behind a massive black Chevy Suburban.

“Oh, okay,”
I stammered.

“That’s why I was so distracted.  I was thinking about how
and when I am going to find the time to get my car fixed.”

“Uh-huh,” I murmured. 
“Anything I can do?”  I asked.  So, that was why he had been upset and rushed.  It made some sense. I had never seen Victor like this, he looked so rattled.  Stop questioning him, I told myself.  He’s upset by the car, and he is a busy.  This weekend he had moved things around to come get me, I told myself.  I’d cut him some slack.

He put my suitcase in the back
of the Suburban, and shut the door, but not before I noticed some toys.  It must be a family member or friend of his who had kids, I thought.  Maybe this Julie person was his sister, and he had some nieces or nephews.  He did not mention his family much, I didn’t even know if he had a sister, and Kat had warned me not to ask about his family, so I kept my mouth shut.

But w
hen we left the parking garage, I was startled again.  He had mentioned going to his place for a few hours, and then taking me home later.  But, he took the exit that led to the Veteran’s Expressway and my home.  When I looked at him he winced, his eyes pleading with me to understand.  “I’ve got to get the truck back, sorry, really sorry.” He looked like he meant it, too. I could see the disappointment in his eyes.

“It’s okay,
don’t worry about it,” I said.  “We always have Thursday.”  I gave him a smile and hoped it looked genuine.  He patted my knee and smiled back, then concentrated on his driving, both hands on the steering wheel.  I turned to look out the passenger side window watching the other cars fly past on the Veteran’s.  I imagined those families doing things together on this remarkably beautiful Saturday in June.  I stared out the window the whole way home hiding the tears of regret that glided down my cheeks.

I felt his hand caress my knee through the white capris I wore, but I couldn’t look at him.  I just couldn’t. 
If I did, I knew I would lose it.  I did reach for his hand and he held it there the rest of the ride home.  The whole way was silent and neither one of us said a word.  I knew he, too, was just as disappointed.

At my door, he placed my suitcase down, and said, “We’ll talk Thursday.  Really talk, okay?”

I remained silent and just nodded, not looking at him.

He took my chin in his hands and lifted my face to meet his eyes, and the tears that I had managed to control began to fall again silently down my face.  “I really, really missed you, baby.”  He kissed me then, on the lips softly, nothing sensual, just tender.

“I missed you too, Victor,” I managed to get out.

“See you Thursday, Monica,
” he whispered, let go of my chin, turned, and got in the truck.  He waved goodbye as he backed out of my driveway and then I went inside.  Alone.

“What the hell?”  Ana yelled
, slamming her coffee cup on my kitchen table after I finished telling her about the fiasco that happened at the airport and about the ride home. I also told her about the fact that Victor had not called last night either.  “Well, call him now.  You deserve some answers!” she exclaimed with some force.

“He was probably so upset about his car, that he just forgot,” I said lamely trying to defend him.

It was Sunday night, and Ana stopped here before going to her place.  She just got back from Clearwater and spending the day with Teddy and his family.

I told her about the conversation I had with Kat.  She sat ruminating for a bit, wiping at the coffee that had sloshed over the side of her cup.  “Well, that puts a different spin on things,” she stated in a calmer tone.

“What do you mean?”  I asked with confusion while wiping my running nose.  Two days of crying did that to a girl.

“She is his friend, but girls don’t like to lie to other girls. For
a while, I was beginning to think he was married,” she stated matter-of-factly.

“Married!”  I
squeaked. “But, he lives with Kat!  I’ve been there.”  I shook my head.  What a ludicrous conclusion to come to, I thought.  She had only thought that because of her ex, and my dad, I told myself.

“Yeah, but
you’ve only been there a few times.  Have you seen anything personal in there?  Pictures?  Anything?” Her eyes widened at me.

“I saw a picture once, but he turned it down on to the dresser
before I could get a look at it.  Come to think of it, I didn’t see it all the other times I was there.  He must have moved it,” I whispered, fear now beginning to clench at my heart.  I felt all the color drain out of my face.  I felt suddenly cold, too.

She must have seen my panic, because she then switched gears. 
“Okay, let’s not jump to conclusions, yet.  He lives with Kat, no pictures.  What about his clothes? His clothes are there hanging in the closet, too?”

“Yes,
he has a lot of clothes there.  There is his stuff all over the bathroom.  There were some boxes in the corner in his room, too,” I said, giving her all the information I knew, pausing between each thought as they came to me.

“
Well, those are good signs,” she nodded and reached for my hand to give it a pat. “He has been in the Army a lot, used to living out of duffle bag, and boxes and stuff.  So, he may have not gotten around to unpacking,” she mused. “What about family?  What do you know about them?” she asked.

“He has only ever mentioned family
, no one specific, really.  His mom, she lives in Palm Harbor.  His dad passed away from cancer, he told me once.  He hasn’t mentioned anyone else? Wow, that was all I knew!  He did not mention them often, and when he did he would always steer the conversation in another direction.  I talked about my family all the time.  He listened when I talked about them, and laughed at my stories, but never shared any of his own.  He talked about his military friends more than anyone else.

“No,
sisters, brothers?” she asked, letting go of my hand and reaching for her cup of coffee.

“
He hasn’t mentioned any, but the truck he drove me home in had toys in the back.  Girl’s toys.  I saw a doll, a jump rope, a Cinderella ball.  No, he has never mentioned siblings or nieces or nephews or anything, but he did say the truck belonged to family. I remember that clearly,” I emphasized that point.

“Okay, that does
n’t mean he doesn’t have them then, so it must be.”

“Kat mentioned he is very loyal and
feels responsible for his family,” I offered her another possible clue.

“Well, that could mean since his dad passed he feels responsible for his family and that he is the man of the family, so he has to do what his dad would have done if
he were still alive.  He probably spends those family weekends fixing up mom’s house, repairs and stuff, cutting the lawn, taking her shopping.  If he has siblings, he’s Italian, and they probably do family dinners and stuff and he helps them, too,” she continued to hypothesize. Then she shook her head and added, “But, I don’t know why he wouldn’t have mentioned them.  You have been seeing each other for nearly three months.”

O
kay, these things all made sense to me.  “He does not talk about them much.” And then, “What really bugs me though, is that I don’t understand why he doesn’t want to tell them about me?” I asked hoping she had an explanation for that as well.

“Now that is the sixty-four thousand dollar question. I’m stumped.”  She took another sip of her coffee
, set it down and fiddled with the handle for a bit, and then looked at me suspiciously.

“Yes, what is it?”  I could tell she had thought of something.

“Well,” she started tentatively, “It has to be one of three things.”  Again she paused.  “It’s either that his family wouldn’t approve of you, or he’s got another girlfriend, or,” a longer pause, “he’s already married.” This last statement was said with compassion.

“But he lives with Kat!
” I repeated exasperated crossing my hands in front of me.  Then, “Plus, he wouldn’t see someone else, either.  He told me he wouldn’t do that.” I was getting angry at her now.

She reached out to soothe me. “Listen to me, Monica.
  If it is reason number one, his mom might be old-fashioned and want him to marry some little Italian girl and give her some bambinos.  If it is reason number two, he has been dating someone his family loves and approves of, but he is just not that into her, and doesn’t want to disappoint them, or three,” she sighed, “he’s married, maybe separated, I think, but hasn’t told his family because he doesn’t want to disappoint them.”