Page 14 of Loss and Damages
“How are you doing?” Gloria asks in a voice that’s much too quiet for her.
I look at her out of the corners of my eyes, but she doesn’t have the gleaming eagle eye she usually does whenever she’s looking for gossip. Her hair is shorter than the other day when we heard news of Leo’s accident, and there’s less gray, too. Maybe that’s what I need—a trip into the city to go to the salon. I could definitely use a trim and some new makeup. Maybe a new dress.
I could ask Tara to go shopping, and we could take Maya and have ice cream.
Lifting a shoulder, I say, “Okay, I guess. Dominic Milano came into the shop—”
Gloria gasps, and I hide a smile against the rim of my wineglass.
“He said he found the gallery’s brochures at Leo’s apartment, and he was curious. I told him we were friends, that he liked todrink wine and talk about art. I guess he wanted to know what Leo was doing driving from Hollow Lake into the city in the middle of the night. He never came right out and asked, though.”
No, he didn’t ask because he was too busy wondering if I was carrying his brother’s baby, but I’m not getting into that with Gloria. I’m not talking sex with a woman twice my age.
“Did you show him Leo’s paintings?”
“No. Leo asked me not to tell anyone, and I won’t.”
She gives me a dubious look. “Did he mean in death, too?”
“Well, he never came right out and said so, but I don’t think dying was on his list of things to do. There’s no harm in keeping it to myself, is there?”
“I suppose not, unless Dominic Milano decides you’re keeping a secret and tries to bully it out of you. Do you think he’ll come back to your shop? To talk about Leo some more, I mean?”
I freeze in my chair. I don’t think I could handle seeing Dominic again. He’s too overpowering. When I saw him in my showing room, my heart felt like it’d been hit by lightning, and it’s not something I want to repeat. “Nope. Absolutely not. He got what he wanted. He bought that Johnny Jump-Ups tea set, though. That was nice.”
“Hmmm.”
“What?”
“Jemma, you were the last person to see Leo alive. If Dominic Milano misses his brother, he’s going to latch on to you.”
“What is this, some kind of Psych 101?” I try to joke, but I don’t like that what she’s saying sounds all too possible.
“Nothing so fancy as that. Human nature, I suspect. But maybe you’re right. He’s gotten what he came for. I better go,” she says, standing and patting me on the knee. “Call if you need anything. Leo was always around and I took that for granted, but us ladies out here alone, we have to stick together.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
Gloria lifts a sleeping Coco into the basket attached to her bike and wobbles down the gravel path to the road, the back wheel flattening under her weight. One day, and one day soon, she’s going to need to find a different mode of transportation to her shop. I watch until she turns the corner onto the road, her house not far from my cottage.
I sit on the porch until the sun starts to go down, pinks and oranges streaking the sky. I try to convince myself that tomorrow will be the day I’ll paint, something small like a ring dish, but even a piece as small as that weighs heavy without Leo’s company.
A mosquito lands on my thigh and I let her suck my blood. It stings, but I don’t stop her.
I wonder who Dominic is going to spend his night with. A nameless, faceless, warm body? The online rag mags report his every move and I know he’s not in a serious relationship. They call his dates the flavor of the week, a woman never lasting longer than seven days.
Would I let him take me to bed if he showed up, right here, right now, and offered?
I try to think of something else, but I sit, let the mosquito drink her fill, and I can’t get the sight of my little teacup sitting in Dominic’s palm out of my head and what other things he could do with his hands.
I toss and turn all night. I haven’t been sleeping well since Leo passed away. It’s crazy how easy it is to get used to something,someone, and the empty bed taunts me as I brush my teeth. I can’t help but remember how Leo would lie on my bed as I went through my nightly routine, talk to me with his head propped onhis hand while he waited. I think watching me change into my pajamas and brush my hair was his favorite part. I don’t know why. He was always relaxed and casual at any time of the day, but in the evening, what little tension he had would ooze out of him and he would cuddle me and talk about whatever was on his mind.
He never spent the night, and one evening I asked him if he was going home to a woman. Brushing a kiss over my cheek, he said, “You’re the only woman in my life, Jemma, but this time isn’t ours.”
I didn’t know what he meant by that, and I still don’t.
I wasn’t seeing anyone when he came to the gallery that first day, but I don’t know if he broke up with someone to start spending so much time with me.
There are a lot of unanswered questions, and they’ll always remain that way.
