Malena Lott - Dating da Vinci

“Don't go,” da Vinci said, tugging at my arm. “Puppy can wait.”

Another annoying trait: da Vinci could be selfish. Maybe a younger, more interesting girlfriend would've stayed with him, but I was a regular woman with two boys and a puppy, which was a lot like having a newborn. “Da Vinci, I've got to take care of Bellezza. I'll see you tomorrow.”

He sat up in bed, pulling the sheets over him. “Is that man coming tomorrow?”

I slipped on my house shoes. “Cortland? I have no idea. Why do you ask?”

“He's been over too lot.”

I rolled my eyes. “He's been over a lot. He's just helping with the puppy. He's being nice. I haven't had a dog since I was a kid.”

“I had six sheepdogs back home.”

“Well, Bellezza isn't a sheepdog, is she? She's a German shepherd, and if Cortland wants to help, I appreciate it.”

“Something not right about him. How you say, fishy? He's not welcome in house.”

“I can't believe this,” I said, grabbing the door, the sound of Bellezza's barks growing louder. “You're jealous of my sister's boyfriend? Do you know how crazy that sounds? And since when is it your house?”

He clicked off his lamp and turned away from me in a huff. What a baby, I thought, unsure of whether I should be flattered or turned off by his behavior. I decided to blame it on too much sugar and retreated to take care of my other baby.

She caught me off guard. Again.

I was walking Bellezza around the park when I got The Call. It felt out of the blue, though my heart had skipped a beat every time my cell phone rang the last week and a half. This time, I was too preoccupied with waiting for my puppy to pee to think that it could be Her.

“Ramona? Hey, sorry it's taken me so long to get back to you.”

Her voice was unmistakable, like an angel's, though not a sweet cherub, but a powerful angel like Raphael or Gabriel.

“God, I did it again. Sorry. It's Monica. Blevins. I was going to call you when I returned from Japan?”

“Yes, of course. How are you?” I looked down to find Bellezza urinating on my sneaker. A half-acre to roam, and he picks my Nike. “Dammit.”

“Excuse me?”

“No. Not you. My puppy just peed on my shoe.”

Monica laughed. “I don't hear that every day. Shall I call you back?”

“No, no. Don't hang up. It'll dry, right?”

“Well, if you need to, call me back when you have your calendar in front of you.”

I imagined Monica was the type of person who couldn't live without her planner directing her every move, but my schedule was in my brain: Monday, Wednesday, Friday at the Panchal Center, Tuesdays and Thursdays volunteering at the school, and every day from 3:30 to 8 p.m. was booked with boys' activities, and then dinner, homework and bed. “Not at all. What works for you?”

Monica made exasperated noises on the other end: moans, sighs, ticks, as she moved through her frenzied days. She must be important to be so booked up. “Okay. Got it! I was nervous for a minute there, but I have thirty minutes two weeks from Monday.”

“Two weeks?” I'd already been a nervous wreck waiting for her to return and call me back. Now I had to wait two more weeks for her confession? For those huge Unanswered Questions she was going to hit me with?

“You're right. That's too long, isn't it? Let's see what I can move around.”

“Oh, you don't have to do that for me.”

“It's no big deal. Besides, Joel was special to me. It's the least I can do.”

I nearly dropped the phone. I wanted to say, “Forget it. Let's just get this over with on the phone. What do you mean by special? What precisely is your definition?”

“What about tomorrow then? Coffee at 8 a.m.? That Starbucks on 89th?”

The one where Cortland and I had our spat. “I might be a few minutes late. I drop the boys off at 8.”

“That's fine. I'll see you then.” And she was gone. I was left standing in the park, staring at Joel's bench, with warm dog piss on my shoe.

The next morning, I woke up with a racing heart as though I had anxiety even in sleep. It was 6:30 a.m., just enough time to look half as good as Monica. It would have to do. I would exfoliate my entire body in the shower and use the expensive lotion my sister got me last Christmas. I would even wear eye shadow and attempt to curl my hair.

Forty-five minutes later, when it was time to wake the boys, William wasn't in bed. My adrenaline still pumping, my voice rose an octave. “Bradley?” I shouted, shaking him awake. “Where's your brother?”

Then I heard it. Gagging noises from the bathroom. I followed the trail of spaghetti vomit down the hall and to the bathroom, where William sat hunched over the toilet, puking.

He looked up at me with those big, sad eyes, drool hanging from his mouth. “Mommy, I don't feel so good.”

I leaned against the doorframe. “You don't say, buddy.” I caught my reflection in the mirror and hardly recognized the woman staring back at me. Dare I say she was pretty?

After I washed his face, cleaned up the mess, and put him back in bed, William, hot with fever, held my hand in his. “Why are you so dressed up? Is it a special day?”

I thought of Monica and our fated meeting that wasn't meant to be. “Nope. Just a day to get you better. Now I'll call Grandma to give your brother a ride to school, and you and I can stay home and be bums.”

Monica didn't answer when I called her, which was for the best. As a mother herself, I was sure she'd understand. I'd waited for two years for the truth. What was two more weeks?

When da Vinci came into the kitchen later wearing only a pair of khaki shorts and flip-flops-much too cool for early November- he shrugged me off when I hugged him from behind. He was not a morning person and on this day, perhaps he had a sugar hangover.

He sipped his coffee and scrutinized my face. “Too much makeup,” he said. “I like you plain.”

So that's what it was. Someone like da Vinci is attracted to Plain Janes with soft tushes. Go figure. “Well, you can't please everybody.”

“I won't be home tonight. Study hall at the fraternity.”

“You joined a fraternity? But you said they were juvenile.” I felt hurt he hadn't asked me first.

“They are juvenile, but they promised free tutoring. And they have nice gym in basement.”

There was no way in hell I would let da Vinci drag me to frat parties. Why didn't he just break up with me now and get it over with? “Well, if that's what you want.”

He sat at the breakfast bar and I tossed dry toast to him. In the last few days, I'd felt more like his short-order cook than his girlfriend. Hadn't I thought just the opposite weeks ago? When he'd first moved in, he had cooked more for me than I had for him. Da Vinci took a bite of the toast and eyed me evenly. “We are learning American history slaves,” he said. “Did you know the masters used to keep their black lovers in small house in back of property?”

I could feel my cheeks burn and wondered if I should let it slide. Had Cortland been planting something in da Vinci's ear? Da Vinci, love slave? How could he possibly think that? “I've heard that,” I said coolly. “Perhaps you should move into the fraternity house, then. You can work out all the time that way.”

“Smells like urine and beer,” he said, shaking his head. “Besides, I want to move into your bed. I'm beginning to think I not good enough for you.”

I exhaled. Here I thought I was the jealous one. Da Vinci wasn't just jealous of Cortland, but of my dead husband, and rightly so. Though Joel was gone, his territory was still clearly marked. “Oh, honey. It's not that. It's just doesn't feel right. I'm going to buy a new bed, then I promise you are welcome in it.” I couldn't take it back after I 'd said it, and it had clearly pleased him.