“Believe me, I've practically thrown myself on him, but I can't believe he's the wait-until-marriage type, even if he is a good Christian man,” she gushed as she reapplied lip gloss, then tilted her head as if to reconsider. “A few more dates I'm sure he'll give in. How can he resist this?”
“How indeed,” I said, my throat catching. Maybe I was feeling a little jealous, and though my sister had enjoyed a spirited sex life since her divorce, this one got to me. I didn't want her to kiss Cortland, let alone have sex with him. He was the only guy she'd ever dated after Michael that I liked. Not like liked, just liked in the general humankind sort of way.
“What about you? Knocking boots with Leo yet?”
I brushed through my hair, trying not to compare it to my sister's. It wasn't fair that I'd just spent $125 on a color job that I couldn't afford in the first place and hers still looked shinier and bouncier. “Don't be silly.”
“I'm not being silly. I'm being hopeful. For you. If I weren't with Cortland, I'd be in hot pursuit. You're just not interested, huh?”
“Actually, he has kissed me. I mean we've kissed. At a wine festival.”
Rachel's wide mouth opened even wider and emitted a squeal of delight. “OhmygodI'msohappyforyou. Is he a great kisser? I always imagined Italians would be the best kissers.”
“Very much so. He's young, though. I think kissing improves with age.”
“Poo. It's when they're young and hot and full of reckless abandon that it's good. I bet sleeping with him will be…” She rolled her eyes into the back of her head. “OhmygodIcan'tbelieveI'mjealousofyou.”
I swelled with pride. Of course I shouldn't have to keep da Vinci a secret. I was a grown woman. I could make my own decisions about my love life. About getting one, that is. I'd just have to deal with the teacher issue and figure out how to break the news to Judith without breaking her heart, and then we were fair game. Not that I'd let my sister's jealousy speed along any decision.
“There you are,” Cortland said as I exited the bathroom, and for a split second I thought he'd been waiting for me until I saw that my sister was directly behind me. Cortland locked eyes with me, one, two, three, then focused on my sister, who put her arm around his waist and led him away from me.
My boys were still at the table, talking football. My boys: William, Bradley, and da Vinci. When I approached, they all three looked up at me with adoration. Not as adorably as when my boys were little and they shouted “Momma!” every time I entered the room, but for growing boys and one young man, I felt very lucky. Especially when da Vinci leaned over and whispered in my ear, “ Usci-amo di qui. ”
Let's get out of here.
Chapter 9
Anagrams: Leonardo da Vinci
FOR SOMEONE OF QUESTIONABLE faith, I looked for signs only where I'd felt comfortable: within words. I thought it meant something that Cortland named his dog “love.” I thought it meant something that my da Vinci had been named after that da Vinci and that Mona Lisa was a derivative of my full name. Even though I couldn't explain it, I knew that in this time and this space Mona Lisa (me) and da Vinci (him) meant something together though. To figure it out, I searched for meaning within his name, playing the anagram game that had become second nature to me. There were plenty of messages to be found within Leonardo da Vinci:
A candid lore vino. The “lore” of our names.
A candid role vino. The “role vino” had played in our courtship at the wine festival.
A candid rove loin. Having a roving loin could be a bad thing, but as long as it was roving in my direction, I took it as a good sign.
Which led me to:
A candid lover ion. It couldn't be helped. We couldn't be helped. It was right there: da Vinci and Mona Lisa's union. Love matter. Right there in his name. All along.
As Anh helped me rake leaves the following day (the thing about leaves is, they keep falling until the last leaf is gone. The trees were now bare, which meant we were only two weeks from Joel's death date), I confessed to Anh my intentions. I'm not sure if I wanted her to give me a high-five or a stern, shake-her-finger-at-me type of warning or do a cartwheel. Instead, she stared at me blankly for a few seconds, which felt more like an hour. Then she threw her rake down and wrapped her skinny arms around me.
“Good for you, Rames.” Her hug also felt like it lasted an hour. When she let go, she had tears in her eyes.
“Oh, dear. Why are you crying?”
“Because I'm so happy for you. Because I can tell how much happier you've been lately and if he's the reason for it, then I say, more amore!”
“Well, I got him transferred into another class. I'm no longer his teacher, though I am still a teacher. Fortunately Panchal met his own wife at the cultural center, so he can't exactly throw stones.”
Anh shrugged. “You're both adults and it's not a public university. Besides, sometimes you can't help how you meet who you meet, you know?”
“And besides, it's not like we would be going anywhere relationship-wise. It would just be for companionship.”
“And great sex.”
I tossed my rake onto the ground. This is why I had to tell Anh. I wasn't looking for consensus or approval. I was looking for a sex pep talk. “I don't think I can go through with it. I'm scared. And don't you dare tell me it's like riding a bike.”
Anh put her hands on her hips. “No. It's a helluva lot more fun than getting back on a bike again. And take it from me, someone who's had more sexual partners than should probably be openly admitted and three of them very different husbands in the sack; the fundamentals are the same from guy to guy.”
“Uh, yeah. I don't need a diagram. Tab A goes into Slot B, repeat as necessary, thankyouverymuch.”
“What I mean is, once things get going, it kind of takes care of itself. The body almost goes into autopilot. Only some autopilots are a lot sexier than others.”
“Well, it did feel like if I hadn't stopped things at the wine festival or in the car that I could've gone through with it. If only…”
”… you didn't feel guilty about Joel.”
“Exactly.”
“Well, if Heaven weren't already as great as having sex every minute of the day, then he would be doing it, too. I once read orgasm is the closest thing we experience on earth to the feeling we'll have to the perfect bliss we'll feel in Heaven.”
“But you don't believe in Heaven. You believe in reincarnation.”
“It doesn't matter what I believe; it matters what you believe. And you believe in Heaven, and I do believe in bliss, so go for it.”
“A little piece of Heaven might be nice.”
“Or a lot of it. A whole lot of bliss.”
Bliss: a word missing from my personal vocabulary. What would it be like to have it back in my dictionary? To actually feel it?
“What about you? Gone blissing lately? You haven't shared, which means you either haven't or you're keeping secrets.”
Anh shrugged her shoulders. “I swore I wouldn't tell you.”
“This can't be good. Maybe I don't wanna know.”
“I had a thing the other night…”
“Great. You're telling me anyway. Fine, you had a mover/shaker thing?”
“Exactly. And who was there, but Michael.”
“As in my ex-brother-in-law Michael?”
“Mr. Republican Himself. So we have a few drinks. You know how vodka tonics do me.”
“No. Don't even say it.” I threw down the rake and covered my ears. “You slept with Michael and now neither of you are going to go to the boys' games with me, and it'll be all awkward and weird, and oh, Jesus, Anh, couldn't you stick to a safe glass of Chardonnay?”