Standing on her front porch under the moonlight, Laia looked up into Jonathan’s eyes. He had just brought her home from the tiny Italian restaurant where they had been wined and dined by Pete and Maria, the owners, who were in their sixties. They had eaten there before, but tonight, everything was special. Pete had pulled out all the stops, waiting on them himself, bringing various samples from the kitchen, and hovering over them for a reaction to each one. He even served them a better bottle of wine than the one they had ordered.
Maria, who usually waited the six tables in the restaurant, made several subtle attempts to pull Pete back into the kitchen.
“But-ah I wanna do dis, Maria. It’s-ah love!” he said, putting the fingertips of his hand together as he gesticulated. “You no remembah?” Pete suggestively raised an eyebrow.
Maria blushed and went toward the kitchen. She turned to look at her husband and after a moment, he cleared his throat and excused himself to follow. Laia was charmed by the dynamic between them. That was what she wanted for herself. Love that traversed time, with Jonathan. On this magical night, everything seemed possible.
As a private joke, Jonathan had taken on the role of a ‘gentleman caller’ and what they had was closer to a formal courtship than to dating. Laia quickly warmed to the chivalrous approach, enjoying the tease of their growing desire for each other, but getting to know him and his personal values over the last six weeks had been the greatest benefit. The grave undertones of Jonathan’s humor and intellect gave a new dimension to this ruggedly handsome construction worker she had intense feelings for.
They had held hands during the long, pleasant walk from Pete & Maria’s to her house on this mild evening, and now, here they were at her doorstep. On their last date, Jonathan had finally kissed her, leaving them both wanting more and though her knees had been trembling, she had politely said goodnight and went into the house.
Now here they were on the porch holding hands. His touch was electric and she hoped he wouldn’t notice the dampness of her palms. They’d been quiet during most of the walk; she wondered what he was thinking. He would surely kiss her again. What should she do? Should she let her feelings guide her? Should she remain aloof? He had started their dynamic, after all.
Laia’s anticipation turned to confusion when he guided her to sit on the steps leading to her front door. He sat down next to her and took her hands in his. He looked uncomfortable. Upset? Resigned? Something was wrong, horribly wrong. In that instant, realization dawned on her. Oh, dear God, he was going to break it off.
Laia’s face burned as she watched Jonathan’s mouth make incomprehensible sounds. She knew her face was growing redder as he spoke. Here and there, words and phrases stood out punctuated like drops of blood on fresh snow: “…hope you can understand…” “…can’t continue…” “…my brother…” “want us to be friends…”. After a while, she just stopped listening and tried not to blink free the tears filling the corners of her eyes. He leaned over and kissed her on the forehead and got up and walked to his car which he’d left in her driveway.
In a daze, Laia watched him pull away. Inside, she changed into a short nightie, put her hair up into a sloppy bun and went into the bathroom. She brushed her teeth, washed her face, applied moisturizer, and caught her own eye in the mirror. The tears began to flow and a moment later she was on the bed sobbing incessantly. She cried until it felt like she had no more tears to shed and then she cried some more.
It was nearly dawn when Laia thought of the road that had brought them here. It had all started with his brother Andy.
