After covering a few more about bills and taxes, the agent closed his manila folder. “Last question, Mr. Marchesi. How did you propose to your wife?”
“Unromantically. I didn’t kneel, didn’t have an engagement ring. I just told her how I felt. I want to spend my life with her.”
“How did she react to such a proposal?”
“Said I was too young for her, that we were very different. But we love each other, and that’s all that matters.”
31
June
“Pretty tidy for a guy. Sometimes he’ll leave his shoes under the desk, and there are always guitars lying around. Especially his blue one, the Strat. He worked hard to get her when he was younger, and she’s always with him.”
The agent looked at me with a smile. “A guitarist. What’s his favorite band?”
“He has several, but The Edge from U2 is his favorite guitarist. He even has a tattoo in his honor.”
“Does he have many tattoos?”
“Oh, yes, eight of them. He’s wearing a dress shirt today, but he has a few on his forearms, one on his neck, another on his chest, and the one I mentioned before is on his side.” I ran my hand from my rib cage diagonally down to my waist.
“Do any of them have any words in them or are they only drawings?”
“‘Songs of Surrender.’ That’s the one on his side. And two on his forearms have Italian. My favorite is the one that says, ‘aim, love, music.’ It sums up Angelo so well. He’s hard-working, optimistic. He grew up in a tough neighborhood and taught himself everything. He’s a fast learner, his English is almost perfect. Music runs in his blood; he’s always playing or planning preamps, and pedals, and sounds. He makes the instruments he handles the best they can be.” I chuckled.
“What’s funny?” the agent asked in a friendly tone, as if we were having coffee rather than her interrogating me.
“I was just remembering how he said that I try to perfect life by engineering it too much. I have lists and lists, and … he’s right. He taught me to let go sometimes. He’s enthusiastic and creative, and … he can be brash sometimes, sarcastic, smug even, but he’s caring and generous, and protective and … he gives his all.” I faltered.
I love you. I should have said it back. I could still hear his whisper echoing in my ear.
The woman looked at me as if I had just split an atom in front of her eyes. “How did he propose? He sounds romantic.”
I cleared my throat. A ball of unshed tears clogged it. “He probably would have been if I didn’t ruin it by pointing out all the ways we were different.”
“How so?”
“I mean, I’m older, and he’s … truly amazing. He could have any woman, but … I don’t think either one of us saw this coming or chose it.”
The agent looked at me with a smile again. “I’m sorry I have to ask, but what side of the bed does he usually sleep on?”
“Right.”
After covering more questions about bills, insurance, and taxes, she closed the folder. “Thank you, Mrs. Marchesi. We’ll notify you of our decision soon.”
I noticed only later that I hadn’t felt the need to correct her toMs. Raine.
She escorted me back to the waiting area. A moment after she left, Angelo and the other agent reached it, too.
The man nodded at me then left.
After more than two hours of interrogation, we were finally alone.
Angelo took my hand in his and began walking. I drew strength from it. Only when we were at the entrance level where Esther rose to meet us, we spoke.
“Guys, walk me to my car and tell me how it went? I got a call, and I need to get to my office urgently. If you parked where I told you to, we’re in the same lot,” she said as soon as we reached her.
We hurried with her and spoke on the way.
