Rushed(101)

Luisa





I woke up the next morning with an ache in my heart, one that I knew was because of not having Tomasso with me. My narrow twin bed was too small, and despite the warmth of the offered blankets and the fact that we were in high summer, I was cold on the inside as I got out of bed and dressed for the day.

As I brushed my teeth, I looked at the reflection of the woman who stared back at me. In so many ways, she was identical to me. Her hair was golden blonde, her skin the light hint of natural tan, and she still had the dark eyes and little button nose.

But I didn't know this woman. She looked happy, something that I didn't think I’d truly felt in years, even though the highlight of her day would be to help Tomasso in the gym, carrying plates to and from weight trees. She was dressed like an American, with a plain t-shirt and casual shorts on instead of a designer set of clothes. Her makeup was practically non-existent. There was little there that would compare to the composed, made up, tightly-controlled and fashionable woman who had stepped off the plane a few weeks before.

But most of all, she looked happy. I spit into the sink, swirling my mouth out and looking back at myself, and wondered. Was I truly happy? Me, the woman who’d sworn to herself that I would never let a man be the one to be in charge of me. Was I truly happy wanting to be a servant to a man, an American man at that?

"You don't want to be his servant, though," I whispered to myself, admitting the truth out loud, even if it was at a volume so low I could barely hear it. "You want to be his partner, his equal. You want him to serve you as much as you serve him. You want the impossible, and you want it from one person in particular."

I nodded and saw a hint of sadness in my eyes. I knew what I wanted was impossible. I wanted what I could never have, especially once my father found out. Guillermo Mendosa wasn’t one to give up on his ideas lightly, that was for sure. He hated Americans, and the only reason he wanted the business connection with the Bertolis was because he wanted the money. I'd come up here with the same intentions. Make the connections, get the money, and get out. Our family was doing well, but it was a small player in a country that had much larger sharks. The Bertolis were to be an advantageous alliance, nothing more.

And now here I was, wanting the impossible. I saw a tear fall from my eye, and I wiped it away, not letting the coldness that was still roiling in my stomach creep out. Instead, I practiced smiling in the mirror until I could convince myself that Tomasso wouldn't notice, and then I left my room, heading for his.

He was awake when I got there, already dressed in basketball shorts and a tank top that highlighted his muscular arms and chest. I'd never really been into the thickset muscular look in a man before, but it worked for Tomasso. It certainly got my pulse beating. "Good morning."

"Good morning, Luisa," he replied, adjusting the straps on his brace. I noticed the smell of my baby powder body spray in the air, and I smiled. It was one of the little things he did that showed me he did care about me, even if we never said it. He’d started to spray his brace ever since I made a comment that it stank. “How'd you sleep?"

"I slept fine," I replied, looking him over. "How was your ankle pain?"

"I woke up twice with twinges, but your techniques helped me go back to sleep quickly," he said, grabbing his crutches and getting to his feet. “Thanks again for that. Listen, after breakfast, would you take a bit of a walk with me?"

"Are you insane?" I asked, surprised. "Sorry. Just, the idea of you crutching for miles is painful to my armpits."

Tomasso chuckled and rubbed at his arms. "Yeah, those are getting a bit chafed. But I'm not talking going downtown or anything. Actually, that does sound nice. How about you and I get out of the house and you drive me over to Golden Gardens Park? It's on the ocean side—the water’s too cold to go swimming, but we can talk. Privately."

I caught his intention and plastered on a reasonably authentic smile. "That sounds great. After breakfast and your workout, though. Today, we're doing the isometric work for your leg as well as working your good leg too. If we have the time, of course."

"Of course we do," Tomasso replied. "But let's try to get out there by noon. I want to enjoy the warmth of the sun, if we can, and the beach gets a wicked breeze off the ocean later in the afternoon."

I took Tomasso to the dining room, where the chef had already laid out our breakfast for us. We sat down to lean cuts of steak, with eggs and even some pancakes. “Well, I guess I'm going to have to join you for your workout," I complained good-naturedly. "Is your chef trying to say something about me with the use of steak? I mean, since I did come here with that in mind and all."

Tomasso shook his head and sliced into his filet. "I doubt it. He’s probably trying to pack me full of protein, and for you, well, he most likely read somewhere that your area of Brazil eats a lot of beef. Don't stab him, please?"

I cut my steak and chewed, smiling. It may not have been Brazilian, but the chef knew what he was doing, and it was delicious. "For a chef this talented? I'd be mad to do that. Anyway, what is this Golden Gardens Park?"

"It's a place on the Pacific Ocean side, one of the bigger parks in town. I'd forgotten about it because I usually used a private beach when I was younger, and the water there is cold. You've gotta wear a wetsuit if you want to go in, so it’s mostly kayakers, canoers, stuff like that in the water. But the view's nice on a day like this, and most of the time, the sun is warm. I should have taken you there already.”