“It’s a game we used to play at slumber parties and get-togethers when I was in high school. One person chooses to either tell the truth to a question asked, or do something on a dare.”
“Sounds stupid,” he retorted, feeling himself growing more irritable with every passing moment.
“What’s the matter, Pandolinni? Scared of a silly schoolgirl game?” Her eyes sparkled brightly.
“Fine, I’ll play,” he replied, smiling jauntily in answer to her challenge. “So, how do we start?”
“I’ll start. Truth or dare?”
“Truth,” he answered, wondering what exactly he was getting himself into.
Her blue eyes gazed at him directly. “Who was the first girl you ever kissed?”
“That’s easy,” Tony said with a laugh. “Her name was Linda Cooper and she was an older woman. She was in sixth grade, and I was in fourth, and I thought she was the most beautiful girl I’d ever seen. I was invited to a birthday party where she was also a guest and somehow we started playing spin the bottle.” His eyes were a warm gray as he tilted his head to one side, a grin lifting his lips. “It was my turn, and I prayed and prayed for that bottle to spin to Linda and when it did, I thought I would die from happiness. I leaned over and kissed her, and she wiped her mouth and said ‘Yuck!’” He laughed at the memory. “Needless to say, my infatuation with Linda died a harsh and brutal death.” He eyed her with a wicked smile. “Now, your turn. Truth or dare.”
“Truth.”
“Who was the first man you made love with?”
Her face colored to a blossom pink. “Bill. Oh, I know it’s dreadfully old-fashioned, but I was a virgin on my wedding night. Vinnie drummed it into me. ‘Why would a man buy a cow if he’s getting the milk for free?’ he used to tell me over and over again, and to me it made a crazy kind of sense. Of course, I’m not so provincial now.” Another blush swept over her face.
“Hmm, so you’ve had lots of lovers since Bill?”
“Not fair. One question at a time,” she said with a teasing smile. “My turn again. Truth or dare?”
“Truth.”
“Why have you never married?”
Tony folded his hands on the tabletop, gazing at them thoughtfully. “I decided a long time ago that marriage wasn’t for me. The Pandolinni men really don’t make good husband material.” He looked back up at her. “Truth or dare?”
“Truth.”
“Why did you and your ex-husband divorce?”
She smiled. “Bill wanted a very different woman than what I was. He wanted somebody who would be happy sitting at home waiting for his return. He wanted somebody to sit on the bench at his baseball games and ooh and ahh about his skill. I’m not a bench-sitter, never will be. To me, marriage is a partnership…a give and take. Bill didn’t want to give. He only wanted to take.” She pushed a strand of her shining blond hair behind her shoulder. “Bill will eventually be all right. He’ll find the kind of woman he needs in his life and he’ll move on. It’s just a matter of time.”
“Will you marry again?”
“Not fair,” she reminded him. “That’s two questions. It’s my turn. Truth or dare?”
“Truth.”
“Why do Pandolinni men make poor husband material?”
Tony frowned. He wasn’t accustomed to talking about himself, baring himself to anyone.It’s just a game,he reminded himself. “My father was a great cop, but he was horrible as a husband and a family man. He was cold, detached. The characteristics that made him a good cop made him a miserable human being.” His hands clenched into fists as he thought about the man he’d worked so desperately to please. “I joined the police force in an effort to make him happy, get some sort of validation from him. I watched my mother slowly fold into herself, escaping his coldness by warming herself with a bottle of gin.” For a moment he forgot where he was, who he was speaking to, as memory after memory assaulted his brain.
“When I was in fourth grade, I noticed my mom getting quieter and quieter, and when she tucked me in at night, I’d smell the liquor. By the time I was in sixth grade, I smelled the gin when I got home from school in the afternoons. And when I was in high school, she rarely got out of bed. I hated her, but I hated my father even more, because I knew he was the one who’d created her. He’d made her a shadow. I finally quit the police force so I wouldn’t become a man like my father, and I vowed I’d never take a woman into my life and subject her to the life-style that destroyed my mother.” He jumped up from the table, suddenly angry that he’d said too much. “This is a stupid game and I don’t want to play it anymore.” He walked to the front door, needing to escape from her and her provocative ways and probing questions. “I’m going to see if I can’t find a newspaper at one of the stores. I’ll be back later.”
Libby watched him slam out of the door, surprised that such an innocent question had obviously touched a nerve.
She ached for the little boy he had been, trying to please a cold, distant father. She hurt for the child who’d never had his father and had lost his mother, as well. But more than anything, she mourned the man who had made himself a vow long ago…a vow created by disillusionment and bitterness.
Didn’t he realize that by keeping himself isolated from love, by refusing to consider the possibility of sharing his life, he would eventually become a cold, detached man just like his father?
She hadn’t meant to pry into his personal life, although she had to admit she’d hoped by playing the silly little game that she would learn a little bit more about him.
She got up from the table and grabbed her purse, digging in the bottom until she found her nail file. She had to do something, anything, to pass the time.
