“Look, I never meant for you to ever find out about Enzo. I don’t expect anything from you, just so you know,” I pinched between my eyes because this was some bull-shit.
“Catalina, why the fuck didn’t you ever try to contact me? All these fucking years, I believed Edwardo killed you. Here it is, you had our child, and you never thought for one fucking second that I had a right to know?” I got up in her face, as I felt my calmness disappearing.
“Let’s be real clear. I was fucking a nineteen-year-old boy. Do you really think I was about to come tell your young ass you knocked me up? When Edwardo found out I was pregnant, that man damn near killed my ass. If it wasn't for Enzo growing inside of me, I really would have been dead. He put my ass out, gave me a one-way ticket to Italy with a couple of thousand. He told me if I ever set foot back on US soil, he’d have me killed. With the money he gave me, I started this cafe. I never once thought of contacting you because I knew it wasn’t right. I never meant for you to find out, especially like this.”
I listened to her explain and, I guess, saw where she was coming from. I was young, and we both had no business fucking each other. However, our affair gave us a child whether either of us liked it or not.
“So what now?” I asked; it was only fair for me to know if she wanted to let Enzo know who his father was.
“Nothing, I’m not about to cause turmoil in my son’s life, all because of an affair I had. Let’s leave everything alone, Phillipe,” I made a face because her plan sounded like ass.
“Why should I? Don’t you think it’s Enzo’s right to know who his father is?”
“Look, let’s really think about this. We’ll give it some time and then make the right decision that’s best for nobody but Enzo. In the meantime, I won’t say anything to him until we’ve decided together what we’ll do about this…deal,” Catalina said, stretching her hand out so we could shake on it.
“Yeah, deal,” I reluctantly shook her hand. Catalina smiled warmly at me as she scanned me from head to toe.
“You’ve grown into a very handsome man, you know that. How old are you now? Thirty-three?” Instead of releasing my hand, she held on to it. Catalina eyed me suggestively, and memories of the things I used to do to her flashed in my head.
“Na, thirty-five, all grown up.” Catalina blushed when I said I was grown, no longer the teenager she knew all those years ago.
“I can see that you’ve grown. I am still very surprised that you got married, though,” she said, finally removing her hand from mine. I rubbed my chin as I thought about Dior.
“Trust me, nobody is more shocked than I am,” I chuckled under my breath.
“Are you in love?” Catalina asked. I looked at her as she waited patiently for an answer.
“Mamma, I took the bread out of the oven.” Enzo appeared at exactly the right time. I shifted my focus from Catalina to the young man who was supposed to be my son.
“Thank you so much,figlio(son),” Catalina said, going to her son. Holding his face in her hands, she lovingly kissed his cheek.
“Where did Miss Dior go?” Enzo enquired, staring at me as if I did something to Dior. One thing I knew for sure, he had my mannerisms.
“She went back to the hotel,” I answered. I couldn’t help but keep looking at him, amazed that I really had a son. He stared at me long and hard as if he didn’t really like my answer.
“Phillipe was just leaving,” Catalina interjected, giving me a pleading look. I could tell she didn’t want to rock the boat, and I had no choice but to abide by her wishes…for now.
“It was nice meeting you, Enzo,” I reached over and tapped his shoulder, trying my best not to make things weird.
“Enzo, I’ll walk Phillipe out. Stay and watch the store,” Catalina said before we both began making our way to the door.
“Put your number in my phone, so I can stay in touch with you.” I took my phone out, unlocked it, and handed it to her. I watched closely as Catalina typed in her number.
“You look really good, Phillipe. It’s been nice to see you,” she said, giving me my cell back. Our fingers brushed over each other’s, and an all-too-familiar spark was felt. I sighed softly. Catalina was stirring up feelings that I believed I’d buried.
‘I’ll keep in touch,” I told her before I turned and walked off. Now, I had the very difficult task of going back to the hotel and facing my angry wife.
*****
The moment I stepped inside the hotel room, I could sense something was wrong. It was way too fucking quiet in here.
“Dior!” I hollered her name as I walked around the room searching for my wife. I was met with nothing but silence. I entered the bathroom just to be sure…nothing. Next, I made my way to the balcony…nothing.
Grabbing the top of my hair, I released curse word after curse word in both English and Italian. Dipping inside my pocket, I took my phone out and dialed Dior’s number.
“I know you fucking lying,” I muttered when her phone went straight to voicemail. I knew my hot-headed wife did not switch her phone off. “Mothafucka!” I headed for the door to find my father and Francesco. I felt like steam was emanating from my pores by the time I reached my father’s room door. I knocked on that mothafucking door like I was the SWAT team.
My father swung the door open on the second knock. “Buddha, why are you knocking on my shit like you’re thepolizia(police)? The fuck is wrong with you?” I ignored the angry folds on his forehead.
