At seven-thirty pm while I was getting ready for my date with Tall, Fair and Handsome, I received a text message. Here we go again, I thought. If he cancels, that’s going to be it! I’m so tired of the game playing and excuses. I’m done.
Reluctantly I looked at my phone. “I’m waiting for you in the lobby.”
Oh! He’s not cancelling. I’m always embarrassed when I jump to conclusions and I’m wrong. At this moment, I felt ashamed. But can you blame me? He was evasive to the point of being secretive. Cancelled so many appointments with barely an excuse. But, now we were actually going to have our dinner date and for some strange reason, I felt a little nervous. I always rely on my intuition. It’s a certain kind of feeling I get in the pit of my stomach, like butterflies on steroids. And there they were. Fluttering in abandon.
I put the finishing touches on my make-up, tousled my curly hair and took one last look in the mirror to see if I looked okay.
I walked down the myriad of corridors to get to the elevator and walked in. I was alone and introspective. When the elevator door finally opened in the lobby, I noticed Tall, Fair and Handsome was pacing back and forth like a tiger in a cage. I wondered what that was all about.
He turned and when he saw me a large smile formed on his face. I relaxed immediately. I don’t know why I had become so dramatic. It was only dinner.
We walked to the restaurant in silence. That was alright; I was lost in my own thoughts, wondering what his story was. He had promised to tell me everything, and I had already jumped to so many conclusions. Which one would be correct?
As we saw the Ponte Vecchio, he took my hand and we walked over to the very spot where I saw him dumping what I thought was cocaine in the Arno early in the morning.
He looked into the dark river, illuminated by the lights of various buildings. His eyes were soulful.
“Are you okay?” I asked, touching his arm.
“I didn’t want to bring any of my problems into our new friendship, but when I saw the look of fear and distrust in your eyes early this morning, I knew I had to tell you everything. I wasn’t being fair to you. But, honestly, I wanted to spare you from knowing this part of my background.
“My wife…”
“You’re married? Oh my God! I don’t date married men. Don’t tell me. You’re wife doesn’t understand you…”
“had cancer this past year. She didn’t know she was terminal and made me promise when she recovered, that I would take her back to Firenze. You see, we met here on this very bridge twenty-five years ago when she was an art student.”
My stomach dropped.
“Her family is from Italy and when they heard she had died, they asked me to have the body brought to Firenze to be cremated. That was my unfinished business.”
“I’m so sorry. I didn’t know. Oh God, you’ve been suffering and I’ve been grilling you like a criminal.”
“When she realized she was dying, she asked me to sprinkle her remains in the Arno River. I didn’t think it was legal, but I promised at her death bed that I would. So, I woke up early when I was certain no one would see and brought her remains. My thoughts were flooded with her until I saw you watching me. You had a strange look in your eye that concerned me. You no longer looked at me endearingly. Suspicion and fear washed over you like a monsoon. And I didn’t know why.”
A lump formed in my throat as I tried to control the tears that were forthcoming. I had never been more ashamed of myself.
“She made me promise to get on with my life. That if I met someone special, I would take a leap of faith and make a life for myself. Then I met you serendipitously and wondered if somehow she intervened on the train. I don’t think it was fate. I’m positive it was my beautiful wife who brought us together. She knew I would mourn her until the day I died unless she took matters into her own hands and spiritually handpicked the right girl for me.”
He turned away from the river and looked at me, wiping away my tears with his soft fingertips.
“I suppose we should go to dinner,” he said, looking at his watch. “We’re going to be late.”
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