| |
“DON’T FOLLOW ME,” DOMINIC yelled down the hallway into the living room.
“Why? Where are you going?” Tonita’s questions were answered by the sound of the door slamming. She hesitated, a moment’s indecision, and then picked up her coat and ran down the short hall to the front door. She pulled the door open to the screech of tires and acrid smell of burnt rubber, as the black Mercedes sped away, maneuvering easily down the narrow street. Tonita watched for a moment until the car, taking Dominic with it, was out of her sight. Exasperated, she slammed the door to Dominic’s apartment behind her and headed out onto the street in the opposite direction of the speeding car. She was tired, fed up, and she was going home.
With anger, frustration, and concern fueling her stride, she made the few blocks to her apartment in quick time and had arrived at her door almost without realizing it.
Once inside, she stripped off her clothes, letting them lay were they fell and headed to the bath. She turned on the water and was about to let the tub fill, when she decided she could wait no longer and pulled up the little knob on the water spout that converted her bath to a shower. She stepped in and let hot water, streaming from the showerhead, beat against her. Tonita leaned against the tiles of the shower, their cold slick feel contrasted with the heat of the water and it eased the pain of tension in her shoulders. Her arms and her back ached. She should never have tried to move the old man’s body or hold him down when he was convulsing, she thought. Hell. She should’ve never gone to Dom’s apartment in the first place. That was stupid. Helping him with the old man was stupid. Getting involved with the situation was stupid. Getting involved with him was unplanned and stupid. It was all stupid and she was unbelievably confused.
She closed her eyes and let the sound of the water bouncing off of the shower curtain and splashing in the small tub, lull her to near sleep. She thought back to the first time she had seen Dom.
He was standing by an ancient fig tree, near the old Roman baths in the hills surrounding the city. She walked by and although she did think he was very nice looking—she wasn’t really interested—she said hi, just to be nice.
“My family was caretaker to most of the fig trees in ancient Rome.” Dominic was matter-of-fact speaking as though they had been carrying on a conversation that he was continuing.
Tonita didn’t know how to respond, so she just said, “Really?” And then regretted saying it.
“My uncle, a great uncle many times over was a senator in the early days of Rome and he oversaw the fig crops.”
“Really?” she said it again without thinking and this time she wanted to slap herself.
Dominic turned to her. “You don’t believe me?”
“Why wouldn’t I believe you?”
“I don’t know, but you keep saying ‘really,’ as though I’m making this up.”
“No, I don’t think that,” Tonita said in her defense. “I believe your uncle was a Roman senator. Why wouldn’t I?”
Dominic looked in her direction, brushed the hair from his forehead and smiled, “Good. You’ll find that I don’t make things up.”
She turned the water off and stepped from the shower. Grabbed a towel and wrapped it around her.
It started to rain, she recalled with a bit of smile forming on her face, that afternoon by the fig tree at the ancient Roman baths. Dominic didn’t have an umbrella, and neither did she. She wasn’t prepared for the rain. He didn’t seem to care if it rained. They pushed in close and huddled under the canopy of the fig tree as the rain intensified.
“You visiting?” Dominic picked a small stone up from near the trunk of the tree and turned it over, examining it.
“Sort-of. I was just visiting when I got here. But now I think I’m staying for a while.”
“School?”
“Pre-med,” she laughed. “Pre-everything.”
“You don’t seem to know.”
“You’re right.”
“I understand,” Dominic said, dropping the stone back to the now muddy ground. “It’s the same for me.”
“Really?” Oh God! She promised to kill herself if she said that stupid word again.
Dominic smiled. “Really?”
Tonita twisted the towel around her, folding one corner into the wrapped terrycloth securing it tightly in place. She picked up a brush and drew it through her hair. From the cabinet she took out a bottle of Avon Skin-So-Soft bath spray and applied it, pushing down on the pump top and letting the oily mist float down onto her. She loved the scent of the oil and the smoothness of it on her skin. She rubbed it over her and watched as the water beaded up on her arm.
“You must be getting cold,” Dominic said peering out from under the ancient fig. The rain had slowed. “You’re getting goose bumps on your arm.”
“I am a little,” Tonita said, rubbing her hands up and down her arms. “Should we chance it and make a run for a café?” She surprised herself a bit at being so forward with this man she had just met.
Dominic put his hand out. “Dominic Renzi,” he said.
“Tonita Clifford.”
“Tonita Clifford? Dominic’s eyebrows arched.
“My dad’s Irish. My mother’s black. And before you say it, I’ve heard it already.”
“Say what?” Dominic laughed, letting a smile take shape on his face.
Tonita’s gaze reflected on herself as she came out of the trance of memories and stared into her eyes in the medicine cabinet mirror. She contemplated what she had gotten herself into, thought about giving up, turning away and going back. She couldn’t. It was too late.
She dropped the towel onto the bathroom floor, pulled on the pair of jeans she had thrown on earlier when Dominic had called in a panic, grabbed a clean T-shirt, and then pulled on a sweatshirt over that. She stuffed all the Euro she could find from inside the dresser drawers, purses, and on top of the dresser, into her pockets. She dug out her credit cards and passport, which were hidden under the corner of the carpet and headed out the door.