Second Chances (14 page)

As their waiter cleared the table, he addressed Pashmina. “I have a few weeks off before I start at Brown and I’m thinking of taking a vacation, maybe to Greece.”

“Really?” Amelia turned to him in surprise. “How long have you been thinking about this?”

“Not long,” he shot her a meaningful glance. “What do you think Pashmina?”

“Next to here, Greece is my favorite place on Earth,” she beamed, “and I think it would be even if I hadn’t been born and raised there.”

“So why did you leave?” Inquiring minds wanted to know, or at least he did.

“Some things are beyond our control,” she said simply. “I came here because I had to but I’ve never regretted it for a minute.”

“When did you come here exactly?”

“Oh, a long, long time ago. 1979. Back then I was tall, thin and blonde,” she joked. Used to admiring glances from men she couldn’t help but notice Tim hadn’t taken his eyes off her all night.

“That’s what Tim always says!” Amelia chimed in squeezing his hand affectionately. “He’s always teasing me and his friend Ben that blondes have more fun but I’ll take his dark swarthy looks any day.”

Pashmina considered him through slit eyes. “Mmm, you do have a bit of the bad boy look about you,” she teased turning his skin bright red, “maybe even a little Mediterranean coloring, where are your parents from?”

Feeling like a bug under a microscope the question caught him off guard. “Tim’s adopted,” Amelia answered misinterpreting his silence for embarrassment.

Pashmina smiled and reached to touch his hand gently with her own. “I’ve always admired people who become parents to children without any of their own. You must feel very blessed.”

At that moment, whatever thoughts he’d had about what would happen when he finally met his mother, went out the wide-paned window beside him. Feeling like a bucket of water had slapped him in the face, Tim was stunned.
WTF?
Was she really that callous or was it just an ‘out of sight, out mind’ mentality that erased the guilt of giving up her own baby?

He snorted derisively. “Is that what you call it? You think I’m blessed that my real mother didn’t think I was good enough to hold onto? Or, maybe I’m just blessed because she gave me to an adoption agency instead of ditching me on a doorstep somewhere.” Tim’s head was pounding with a bitter resentment he hadn’t expected and couldn’t control. He had to get out of here, now, before the train completely derailed.

Pashmina was a statue in her seat. Through all the years she’d mourned the loss of her child her only comfort was the fervent belief that her baby was safe and part of a loving family. How could anyone feel unloved and rejected by parents that were good and kind?

Silence stretched between them as Pashmina collected her thoughts and Tim struggled to contain his emotions. Amelia stared at him speechless and wide-eyed from behind her water glass, as Monte cleared his throat repeatedly, their actions speaking to him louder than words: ‘fix this’.

But he couldn’t, not here, not now, not after that awful outburst. “I’ll go get our coats,” he said to Amelia. “Thank you for dinner,” he nodded to Monte then let his eyes light on Pashmina one last time. “I’m sorry for snapping at you. It’s been a long week and I’ve got a lot on my mind. I hope you’ll forgive me.”

Unable to speak Pashmina nodded good-bye, tears welling inexplicably in her eyes as she watched him leave the room. A few minutes ago she’d felt trapped by his endless questions and piercing gaze, now he was gone and all she wanted to do was run after him and bring him back. And she hadn’t the slightest idea why.

*   *   *

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

Tim waited, one foot tapping impatiently for the elevator to reach the lobby only three floors down. “C’mon,” he commanded slamming his hand on the wall of the slow-moving cubicle, “I don’t have all day.” As if on cue, the elevator came to a halt its shiny doors barely sliding open before Tim raced through them startling Ben waiting calmly on the other side.

“Whoa, where’s the fire?” He grabbed Tim’s arms, steadying them both. “Wait, it’s Saturday right?”

Tim snorted taking in Ben’s disheveled appearance. Wearing yesterday’s suit, the jacket carelessly slung over one shoulder, a golden shadow on his unshaven face, and a bed-head of tousled curls, he looked like a teddy bear heading home from a night of lovin’ at the Jamboree. “Well, well Mr. Morning After how’re we feeling today?”

“Like a million bucks,” Ben grinned jokingly flexing his biceps, “Ready for anything.”

“Great, then do me a favor and take care of Amelia for me while I’m out.”

“What do you mean?”

Tim snuck a glance at his watch. “Look I don’t have time to explain right now but Amelia’s totally pissed at me and she’s on her way over to let me have it.”

“And you’re leaving?” Ben watched in disbelief as Tim headed for the front door. “Dude, you can’t do that. You can’t do that to Amelia, you can’t do that to me!” he shouted as the revolving door turned like a windmill shooing Tim out of sight.

Dodging and weaving his way through the busy city streets, his mind focused on one thing only, Tim barely noticed the Saturday morning crowds. He had to see Pashmina right away and make up for last night’s disaster. He winced, so much for taking George’s advice to cut her some slack. Contrary to having the upper hand, being the only one ‘in the know’ about Pashmina’s identity was proving to be a real disadvantage.

“There are two sides to every story,” Ben had once said, explaining his winning courtroom strategy, “and somewhere in the middle lies the truth.” Well he knew his story, lived it and didn’t much like it. Blaming the mother who’d forced it all on him was only natural. But if he was honest with himself there was more to the story than just what he knew and he owed her the chance to explain. He owed himself the chance to hear it.

*   *   *

Amelia knocked heavily on the door of Tim’s apartment, the hearty rap of her knuckles sounding like a battering ram to her self-conscious ears. Silence. Praying the neighbors wouldn’t notice she bombarded the door with another rapid fire volley. Did he seriously go back to sleep after her blasting phone call earlier? She pounded on the door again.

“Just a minute! Ouch, ow!”A moment later, the door swung open inviting her to enter.

“Hey!” Ben called from the small galley-style kitchen. Poking his head around the corner he smiled and waved at her. “Come in, come in. Sorry to leave you hanging out there, I just had a small emergency.” He stepped out of the kitchen, a bath towel wrapped round his waist, a blood-soaked dish towel pressed firmly against his neck.

Amelia blanched. “Oh my God what happened?” Ignoring his protests, she gently peeled the cloth from his skin revealing an elongated strip of coagulating blood underneath. She whistled softly, tracing the tip of her finger down its narrow length. “Impressive. Turbo blade or regular?” she teased. Ben scowled.

She laughed, “Well it was close but I think you’ll live. You might want think about some shaving lessons before you try it again though.”

“Thanks for the diagnoses and the tip.” With a mocking bow he continued, “Now if you’ll excuse me for a minute, I’m going to finish washing up and put some clothes on.”

“No problem. Hey, send Tim out here will you?” she called after him.

Cursing silently he turned back to apologize, “He’s not here right now.”

Amelia exhaled not even realizing she’d been holding her breath. Somewhere deep inside she’d known he wouldn’t be here. It was his MO not to be around when it mattered most, but it still didn’t hurt any less. And on top of that, now she was confused too. What the hell happened last night? Rude didn’t begin to describe Tim’s awful behavior.

Ben fidgeted awkwardly uncertain what to do. Sweetly comical, she might have laughed at his discomfort except she knew exactly how he felt. “When did he leave?” she asked plopping disheartened on the couch.

“A while ago.” He moved to join her. Lost in their own thoughts, they sat half listening to the sounds of the day drifting lazily in through the open window. When a raspy chorus of blaring horns broke the lull he asked, “What do you want to do?”

She turned her head to look at him leaning comfortably back against the cushions. “What I really want to do is slap him and say ‘what the fuck’s wrong with you, why are you always such an asshole?’ ” She shook her head and laughed. “But my mother who is a wise and wonderful woman, and by the way would never believe I’m saying nice things about her, always says that there are two sides to every story.”

“So you’re saying there’s a good reason Tim’s an asshole?”

Amelia laughed again. “I don’t know about a
good
reason, but yeah there must be some explanation. So I guess I’ll just wait for him to come back and enlighten me.”

“This should be good,” Ben said heading towards the kitchen. “In the meantime how about some breakfast?”

*   *   *

From where he stood across the street Tim could see Pashmina moving gracefully about the living room, organizing a few magazines here, shifting a chair there adjusting the drapes that framed the over-sized windows. Spotting him, her eyes widened and her busy hands stilled, clinging to the fabric for support. For a moment, they watched each other, wary, suspicious until Pashmina blinked and stepping away from the window, she moved out of his sight.

Squaring his shoulders he marched purposefully up the front steps just as she opened the door.

“Well, this is a surprise,” she said dryly, “I didn’t expect to see you again. Did you forget something, another hurtful remark or an insult maybe?”

Wondering if he deserved such animosity and deciding he did after his dinner time tantrum he apologized, “I behaved badly last night, I’m sorry. But if you’ll give me a few minutes to explain, I think you’ll understand why.”

Still guarded, Pashmina searched his face intently for some clue to why he was there. Not even a shadow of last night’s dark display lingered in the bright sweetness of his boyish features. A minute passed and then another as she struggled to control her growing curiosity. Who was she kidding? She never could resist a good mystery. “Come in,” she invited at last.

They walked together through the front foyer and down a short hallway into a cozy room Tim recognized as the site of Pashmina’s earlier tidying. Now inside, he could see it was impeccably neat except for a large desk topped with a computer, reams of paper stacked in piles of varying height, a coffee mug full of pens and pencils, and a small pewter picture frame, back turned as if hiding its contents from the rest of the room.

“So this is where the magic happens,” he observed casually making his way over to the desk. He pointed to the piles of papers, “Is this what you and Amelia are working on?”

Pashmina started to reply then stopped watching nervously as he picked up the frame from her desk and studied it for a long moment. “Is this you and…..?”

“Me and my husband,” she answered, taking the frame and carefully returning it to its place of honor next to her computer. How many times had she lost herself in the memories of this photo? Harry, so young and handsome in his uniform, standing with his arm draped protectively around her sun kissed shoulders as she clasped both her arms tightly around his waist, the summer wind teasing her long hair like Medusa’s head and making them both laugh out loud. “He’d just returned from a nine-month detail.” She smiled remembering. “We were so happy he was home.”

“His name was Harry?”

She stared sharply. “Yes, it was. How did you know?”

With a final glance at the smiling couple Tim settled comfortably on an elegantly appointed Louis XIV sofa with silk cushions the same ice blue color of Amelia’s eyes. She was probably at his place right now bending Ben’s ear about last night, but he couldn’t worry about that right now, he had some talking of his own to do.

“My dad told me.” The full weight of her attention fell on him and he was thankful to be sitting down. “My biological dad that is, I just met him for the first time.” He smiled, it still felt so good. “He didn’t even know I existed until recently but then he hired a private investigator to find me.”

Mesmerized, Pashmina watched with growing unease as his widespread fingers slid smoothly through waves of dark, silky hair like a swimmer gliding through water, reminding her of someone else.

“Can you imagine,” he said with almost childish wonder, “twenty-nine years old and I just met my dad for the first time? Out of the blue, BAM! There he was in my office.”

Her mouth too dry to speak above the roar of blood rushing through her ears, Pashmina smiled weakly as Tim explained.

“You know, all I’ve ever wanted was to know who my real parents are. Of course I’ve tried to find them too but this was so much better, he found me.”

“I’m happy for you,” she said, her voice cracking like a pubescent boy’s, her eyes drinking him in, his face suddenly as familiar as her own. “So, is he in Boston, does he live around here?”

Their eyes locked knowingly. “No,” he spoke softly, choosing his words carefully still holding her gaze with his own. He licked his dry lips nervously. This was hard but he was tired of beating around the bush. Time to come clean. “George is from Greece, like you. George Levendakis is my father and…..”