Mafia Desire (Erotica)

I was lost in my thoughts for a while, thinking how much Amy would love to check out the architecture around here, when I heard a feminine voice speaking to me. Her Greek accent was thick, but her English was flawless.

“It’s not their best dish, is it?”

I looked up to see a very attractive, tall, slender woman with olive skin and green eyes smiling down at me. She had long, dark hair pulled back in a light ponytail and was dressed in an elegant black dress with a small black purse in her hand.

“It’s fine, really. I’m just not that hungry.” I replied.

“Do you mind if I join you?” She asked, politely. I couldn’t think of a polite way to decline her on a moment’s notice, so I gave her a small smile and motioned her to a chair.

“Thank you. I get tired of eating alone at lunch every day.” She smiled again. “You don’t recognize me, do you?”

“I’m sorry, I don’t.” I was now puzzled. Did I know her from somewhere?

“I’m Natali. I work at the gallery.”

“Oh, right! I’m sorry, I should have remembered.” I pondered if I had ever seen her there. I never paid much attention to the people there. I think I vaguely recalled seeing a tall, dark haired woman around.

“How do you like working for Mr. Cain?”

A waiter came up and she ordered moussaka without so much as a glance at the menu.

“It’s a good job. Keeps me busy, but still allows me time to work on my own paintings. He and his wife are good people.”

“They seem to be.” She agreed.

After a few moments of silence, Natali asked, “So what brought you here from America?”

“I don’t know. A fresh start somewhere new. I wanted something different.” I shrugged.

“Somewhere new? You are in one of the oldest cities in the world!” She laughed brightly. It took me a moment to realize she was making a joke.

“Yeah, well. It’s not Austin, so it’s good enough for my purpose.”

“Austin? Texas?” She asked, her green eyes seemed to stare through me. It made me uncomfortable, even though she was polite and friendly.

“Yeah.” I replied as I picked at my pasta. It was the sauce, I decided, that made the dish unappetizing.

“You don’t look like what I picture an American from Texas to look like.” Smiling at me again.

“I left my chaps and spurs in the States.” I quipped.

She looked me over for a moment, a couple of wrinkles appearing between her eyebrows. Then one of her eyebrows cocked to a high point.

“You are joking with me.” She decided aloud. I couldn’t help chuckling.

“Ah, you are!” She exclaimed, delighted. “You should smile more. You have a nice smile.”

She put a hand gently on my forearm, and it finally dawned on me that she was flirting.

“Thanks.” I picked at my food some more, scraping the offending sauce away.

“You really don’t like that very much, do you?”

“Not really,” I admitted. “I’m not used to the food here, yet. Still trying different dishes.”

“Would would you eat if you could have anything?”

“That’s easy. Egg rolls. Hot and sour soup. Some good lo mien.” I replied.

“I know a place. If you’d like to meet me for dinner?” Her eyes met mine expectantly.

I looked back down at my plate, trying to think of how I could turn her down without hurting her feelings. The obvious answer occurred to me a half second later.

“I’m sorry, I’ve got to head back in a couple of hours.”

“Oh. That’s too bad. Maybe another time.” She briefly looked down, her smile faltered a little. But it returned almost immediately.

“Maybe so. When I don’t have to get back to the island so soon.” I lied, aiming for politeness.

“Sounds good to me.” She replied, brightly.

We finished our meal, or more accurately, she finished her meal as I picked at mine in disdain and paid for our bills separately. I turned to wave goodbye to her and instead was met with a brief hug. She gave me her business card with a home number written on the back and walked back toward the gallery.

She seemed like a nice girl and was certainly beautiful, I thought. But the idea of getting involved with anyone just made my stomach churn. There was only one person I wanted to be with. I flipped the card over in my hand and read over it.

“Natali Panagakos,” Her name was followed by some Greek lettering that I assumed meant sales representative or something similar. The only other thing I could read on the card were the words “fine arts.” Fair enough, I shrugged. I slipped the card in my back pocket and walked back to the ferry.

Back on Milos, I told the Cains about the encounter over dinner. They both listened with great interest. Margaret was, of course, completely amused at my obliviousness to having been hit on by a girl until she had touched me.

“I know her family,” Theron observed. “They are nice people. You could certainly do worse if you decided to pursue her.”

“I’m not going to pursue her. That wouldn’t do anyone any good, I don’t think.” I replied, thoughtfully.

“I understand.” He replied as he exchanged a slight glance with Margaret, who shrugged. I didn’t know what that meant and I didn’t ask.

I was pretty sure that I was better off alone at this point. The relationship I’d had with Amy was irreplaceable. There wasn’t any reason to bother with anyone else as far as I was concerned.

* * *

Eventually, November rolled around and I realized for the first time that I had a pretty decent idea of where I could find Amy. She would likely be in Colorado for the week, as called for by family tradition. I pulled out my laptop and priced flights to the US. I chose a flight and sat with my credit card in my hand, about to put in the information to buy the ticket when I froze up. I must have lingered there for ten minutes, indecisive. What would I even say at this point? How could I approach the entire family that way? It’s not like I could just knock on their door, walk in, hug everyone except my parents, and sweep Amy up in my arms. What if she didn’t want me anymore? The very idea sounded absurd. I closed the laptop and went for a walk.

The afternoon of Thanksgiving Day, which meant nothing other than Thursday in Greece, I sat at my kitchen counter staring at my phone for a few long minutes. I finally picked it up and called Aunt Linda’s place. On the fourth ring, someone picked up. I could hear the jovial atmosphere in the background. I swallowed hard at the sound of Aunt Linda’s voice.

“Hello?”

“Happy Thanksgiving, Aunt Linda.”

“Oh my god, is this Adam?!” She exclaimed.

“Yes, it is. I’m sorry I couldn’t be there this year. I miss you guys.” I tried to sound better than I felt.

“I’m so glad you called. We miss you, too! Holly! Holly, it’s Adam.” I heard Aunt Linda call to my mother. Shit, I thought to myself.

“Aunt Linda!” I tried not to shout, trying to get her attention back.

“Yes?” She sounded puzzled by my desperation.Property of Nô)(velDr(a)ma.Org.

“Is Amy there?”

“No, she’s not, Adam. She stayed in California for the break. You didn’t know that?” Now she definitely sounded confused. My heart sank. California? How the hell was I supposed to find her there?

“Okay, thanks. Send everyone my love.” I replied.

“Don’t you want to say hello to your mother? She’s right he-” I hung up before I had to face that conversation.

I slumped at the counter and stared at the wall for a long while.

* * *

When I left the United States, I had originally expected to be gone for just a few months at most. I had now been in Greece for three years. I had come to really enjoy living there and the idea of returning to the States filled me with a sense of dread. At one point I looked into renting a house near Theron and Margaret’s home, but they were adamant that I continue living in the small apartment built off of Theron’s studio. I felt that I was about as comfortable as I could ever expect to be, and although the gaping hole in my life that Amy had once occupied was still there, it had diminished somewhat. I can’t say that she was ever far from my thoughts.

Over time, Natali’s gentle persistence eventually wore me down and we went out on a date during one of my visits to the mainland. Before the date even started, I knew that it was a mistake. I carefully explained to her that I was just not in a place emotionally where I could handle being in a relationship with someone. I made sure that she understood it wasn’t about her and that I thought she was a great person. She claimed to understand and, after a slightly awkward couple of weeks, we settled into a comfortable friendship. I had worried that she was holding out hope for me to eventually want to be with her, but she began dating another guy soon after and I relaxed.

She was a fan of my work and showed some of my pieces to a friend who worked at a gallery in Rome. Before long, I had pieces showing in a gallery there, as well. When I traveled to Rome to deliver the pieces, I stayed at the Palazzo, the same hotel Amy had stayed at when she was in Rome several years before. I pulled out my phone in the hotel room and looked through the pictures she had sent me from that very hotel. As silly as it seemed, even to me, I wondered if I was staying the the same room that she had. I sat on the balcony that night, listening to Swans’ “Love of Life” album, and wished she were with me.

A few months later, I was in my biggest gallery show yet. This time in London. Theron had a big show there and had pulled strings with the gallery owner to be sure that I was included in the show. Theron gave me a thirty foot section of wall space near the entrance to his gallery and ensured that my name and art was included on the promotional materials for the gallery opening. As I selected pieces for the show, I joked that I felt like the opening act for a concert. He commented that it was a good comparison.