The Art of Starting Over

Chapter 13 - The Ultimatum

"When did Carmen get a dog?" she asks curiously as she adjusts the blinds with her fingers so that she can get a better view.

"He's not hers. One of her sons is abroad with the wife and kids and he asked her to take care of him while they're away," Millie answers. "She's not very fond of him though. She's been threatening to kick him ever since they brought him over."

"Well, if she doesn't I will," I interject, plopping myself onto a chair. "The damn thing starts yapping at the first hint of daylight. I think it has an identity crisis and thinks it's a rooster or something."

"Hmm... Looks more like a rat," Sosa mutters as she sits down next to me. Nanna brings coffee to the table singing, She loves you, Yeah, Yeah, Yeah!

"Thanks, Nann."

"Thank you, Mills."

She takes the remaining chair and looks expectantly at me, Sosa mirroring her by her side. I ignore them and focus on my coffee. I try desperately to enjoy its energising warmth as the caffeine runs through my bloodstream, but it's proving difficult under the scrutiny of their eager stares.

"What?" I ask through gritted teeth.

"Nothing," Millie sings with a sickly sweet grin.

Ugh, I knew I should have stayed in bed. "Look, I told you both already, Shaun and I are going out again tonight even though my three weeks are technically over. What more do you want from me?"

"We want to know if you like him," Millie fires back. Sosa nods her head furiously next to her, holding her cup with both hands.

This is hopeless. I'm going to need more juice to keep up with these two today. I pour the hot water over another large scoop of coffee. No sugar. No anisette. I take a gulp of the strong liquid and lean against the cupboard facing them.

"He's nice," I announce because it's obvious they're not going to relent unless I give them something to prey on. "And his looks don't hurt either," I muse remembering his sculpted torso glistening under his running gear as he jogged up to me after his marathon yesterday. "I guess he's alright."

"Just alright?" Sosa protests throwing her arms up in the air as Millie boos loudly and makes a thumbs-down sign at me. 

I gape at them, shocked at their childish reactions. "What? You know I'm not the type to get head over heels for some guy," I sigh defensively.

Though in all truth, I have no problem giving my heart fully to Mr Fitzwilliam Darcy. Then again, Fitzwilliam Darcy is fierce and brooding and to my greatest dismay, fictional.

"But he is sweet and since Sosa went through so much trouble to have the man's body carved out of marble I might as well see where this could go, right?"

Millie and Sosa giggle and I smile despite myself as I put my empty cup in the sink.

"That's good enough for me," Sosa declares happily, "and you're welcome."

Millie brings their own empty cups next to mine and says, "I'm happy for you, honey. I know it's not easy for you to let people in."

I don't know if this is exactly letting people. I look out the window at the beautiful Mediterranean sky. Carmen's rat of a dog is still on the windowsill peering up inquisitively at the birds chirping loudly on the power lines. I hear women gossiping down the alley and the sound of traffic coming all the way from the main road. Good old Saturday mornings in Bormla.

The summer is still young but the days are already becoming hot and sticky and despite it being rather early, I already have a thin film of sweat covering my body. "I'm off to have a shower," I proclaim.

"Do you have plans for lunch?" Millie asks.

That's code for, 'Are you meeting up with Jeremy?'

Because lunch with Jeremy has become a thing. We may have changed the restaurant but the routine is the same.

He picks me up at one p.m., drives in complete silence and chooses a table as though he owns the place, usually the one in the furthest corner. We drink, we eat and we argue. I say something hurtful and he shuts down and refuses to even look at me. Every time, he drags me onto the same roller-coaster ride of emotions and drops me suddenly and unceremoniously, leaving me with a confused head and an arrhythmic heart for the rest of the week. And then he's back on Nanna's doorstep, ready to do it all over again.

Earlier this week, Jeremy even found the occasion to force me to make good on my promise of going with him to one of his work galas. What an experience that was!

First off, Jeremy asked nicely and two days in advance, so I agreed to go with him. The event was just as boring as Jeremy swore it would be. His father didn't even turn up. I smiled and pretended to laugh at the dull jokes of dreary men whom Jeremy did nothing but glare at. I tried hard not to be affected by the scrutinising gazes of their peacocked wives and mistresses, none of whom bothered to mask their disdain for my presence. And I tried to ignore how they leaned against Jeremy when they spoke to him, how they cackled shrilly and twirled their hair around their red-nailed claws, how they touched his chest and arms when they asked him who his new 'friend' was.  

Forty minutes in, we were talking to his father's broker, who was rather handsy, when Jeremy grabbed me by the wrist and tore us out of the hall, snatching a bottle of Dom Perignon on the way. He strode purposefully through the hotel lobby with me clattering behind him, trying to keep up with his long strides without falling flat on my face until we reached the deserted pool area. 

I gaped as The Boss rolled up his trousers and sat on the edge of the pool with his legs dangling into the water. Then he popped the champagne and toasted loudly to bungholes everywhere and their pretentious wives who constantly threw themselves at the youngest, richest men in the room.

I wanted to disagree with him. I wanted to tell him that they didn't throw themselves at anyone but him. But before I even opened my mouth he winked at me and said, "Don't you dare oppose me tonight, Sparky."

He handed me the bottle as I sat next to him, and we drank the whole thing in under thirty minutes. I would never admit it of course, but it was the best night I'd had in years.

"No," I reply to Millie with a knowing smile, thankful she was thoughtful enough to use code in front of Sosa. Just mentioning Jeremy makes Sosa's eyebrows run for cover beneath her mass of curls.

"Okay, great. I made Lasagne." Ha! I knew it. "Would you like to join us, Stephanie?" Millie offers.

Sosa's face lights up. Home-cooked meals are a rarity in her household, so she always jumps at the opportunity to eat with us.

"I'd love to. Rachel's not home so there's no point in me going back there and Derek got called in to work. I wouldn't mind hanging here for a while. If it's no trouble to you."

"Of course, not. You're always welcome, dear."