Athena
As I watched Luciano disappear around into the elevator, a bittersweet ache settled in my chest.
Deciding to take a little walk and clear my head, I dressed in simple jeans and a sweater, throwing on a brown coat to ward off the cold. Grabbing my purse I went down the elevator too.
If he thought I was going to languish in his expensive suite, waiting for him dutifully like his obedient wife, he was very, very wrong.
I took a taxi as soon as I got out of the lobby, this was going to be my first night out alone in forever.
The city, with its bustling energy and countless stories hidden within, had once been my playground. Now, it just felt distant, foreign even.
My first stop was the small, cozy apartment in Brooklyn I had called home. The walls seemed emptier, the faded paint a stark reminder of the vibrant colors of my former life. I stood at the entrance, memories coursing through my mind like an old film reel.
“You remember that time we tried to fit a sofa through that narrow doorway?” I muttered to myself, a hint of a smile playing on my lips.
Months of lying in bed, with little physical activity, recovering had left me with a few extra layers of fats, which I preferred to refer to as insulation, under my skin. Normally I didn’t care about it, but seeing how small my old apartment felt, I made a mental note to start working out as soon as I got back to Sicily.
With one last look at the place, fighting the single tear drop that had insisted on breaking out, I walked out of the room.
Making my way down the road, I found myself strolling down the cobblestone streets of the East Village, passing by the eclectic cafes and vintage shops that had once been my sanctuary. The aroma of freshly brewed coffee filled the air, invoking memories of lazy afternoons spent lost in thought, scribbling away in my journal.
I had taken them all for granted, the freedom I had then. Relative that is, I don’t think I had ever been free in my life. The obsession with taking down Luciano had kept me in a mental prison, unable to enjoy life until I avenged my father’s death.
And now the killer was dead, you’d think I’d be free right?
But I wasn’t. Whatever I had for Luciano still kept me captive, I was still a prisoner. A different type of prison of course, but a prison either way.
* * *
Lost in thought, my wandering feet led me to an art gallery in Chelsea, adorned with eclectic pieces that I had no idea what they meant. Gazing at the vibrant paintings, I wondered what it would feel like, to take all the pain and sadness I felt and express them on a piece of canvas for an unfortunate art lover to obsess upon.
As I studied it, unsure of what I was looking at, someone walked up next to me, an elderly woman admiring the supposedly breathtaking abstract piece. She turned to me, a knowing spark in her eyes. “You miss it, don’t you? The passion, the freedom of expression that once consumed your being.”
I looked at her, surprised. “Excuse me?”
“You are an artist aren’t you? Nobody comes to Chelsea unless they are educated in Fine Arts” She said smiling, before I could answer, she leaned in to me whispering like she was passing a well kept secret, “They think it’s too modernist, the public, personally? I think they are uncultured swine.”
I wanted to tell her that she was wrong, that I was a college dropout failed FBI agent who had gone ahead to fall in love with the man who I was supposed to investigate, that I didn’t know anything about art at all, that I was just as much an uncultured swine as the next person but I didn’t, I just offered her a weak smile, “How did you know?”
The woman smiled knowingly. “Because, my dear, I have seen it in your eyes. That fire may have dimmed, but it is not extinguished. Rediscover yourself. Embrace the artist within.”
Her words lingered in the air as I thanked her, my heart instead of rising with hope, sank further in despair. And not because she thought I was an artist down on his luck and looking for inspiration.
But because I had spent so much of my life seeking revenge for the loved ones from my past, that I had forgotten to enjoy the present.
A delicious irony if there was ever any, made even funnier by the fact that I was still, in one way or the other, bound by that life of vengeance, even though I had long carried out my revenge.
Turning around before the tears gathering in my eyes started dropping, I hurried out of the gallery, the woman looking at me puzzled.
* * *
As I stood in the door way of the cafe, staring into the lively room, the bright lights gleaming from inside as the customers went about their business, sitting in pairs in booths, calling on waiters and ordering coffee from the bar. The sun was just about setting, a warm, orange glow bathing the New York evening with a beautiful kaleidoscope, I couldn’t help but wonder if someone’s life in this very Cafe was about to change, just like mine did when I decided to accept coffee with Damien here. Now, standing away from it all, looking at it after having survived it, I wondered what would have happened if I hadn’t appeared here that day, of I rejected his invitation to coffee. Where would I be with Luciano? Where would I be with Frederick? Where would I be with myself?
“Excuse me miss.” A soft voice said behind me, “But I have been waiting here for quite a while now and I am starting to wonder if you are actually conscious.”
Turning around to see the owner of the voice, apologizing briskly, I was struck by the frame of a massive man, whose voice didn’t even come close to matching his appearance at all, smiling at me.
“No nevermind,” he said, walking past me to hold open the door, “We all have those days don’t we?” He winked, “After you my lady.”
I returned his smile, struggling to hide the fact that I was blushing furiously, “Thank you.”
He followed me immediately, his long legs catching up to me, “Hey, mind if I buy you coffee?”
An image of what Luciano’s face would look like if he saw me having a drink with a man after he nearly killed my doctor flashed in my eyes.
“No, thank you.” I said, my voice apologetic, “I’d much rather drink alone.”
“You sure?” He asked, raising his eyebrows, “You might use some company you know?”
“I don’t think that is a good idea.” Good looking as he was, I wasn’t even in the mood to talk to anyone at the moment, I just wanted to spend sometime alone.
“Oh come on…” He said, stopping in front of me, “Think about it, who better to tell your deepest secrets than a totally unqualified stranger you literally just met in one of the most dangerous cities in America? What could POSSIBLY go wrong.”
I chuckled, he was audacious at least, I’d give him that, and his sense of humor wasn’t bad. “Okay, fine, just one drink.”
We ordered, mine with full cream, his black, no sugar.
“I promise, I am not trying to be pretentious,” he said, catching my eye, “Just trying to lay off the sugar for a while.
I glanced at him again, he didn’t look unfit. Not exactly a buff guy either, just lean and tall, with beautiful hazel eyes and close cropped hair.
“So,” he said as we waited for the coffee, “Mind telling me what was bothering you?”
Suddenly, as though scales had fallen from my eyes, I jerked up.
He was a stranger.
I was trying to reconnect to my past life and dissociate with Luciano by opening up to this stranger. That was, well, stupid.
I shook my head, standing up “I am sorry, I have to go.”
He frowned, “What? Wait-”
“Thanks for the coffee, but I really have to go.”
Without another word, I strode out of the cafe. That was enough strange encounters for one evening.
* * *
Leaving the diner behind, I walked outside, still feeling his eyes on me. There was one last place I had to visit before I went back to the hotel. I glanced at my watch, eight pm, Luciano would soon be back, it didn’t matter, I wouldn’t take time.
I hopped on the next bus that stopped, dropping at the gates of the school I had tried to ignore all my life. I walked over to the park, just opposite the massive, gothic style gates, the sound of my footsteps echoing amidst the lush greenery. The serene beauty of the park provided temporary solace.
The students from Columbia University walked into and out of the gates, chattering happily like they had no care in the world. When I was younger, I had frequently wondered if I was smart enough to get in. My grades in school weren’t that excellent, but maybe, just maybe if I had put in more effort, I might have made something?
Well, we would never know I guess. I was about to stand up and leave when I heard a voice behind me.
“You know, Cara, you are the most annoying woman in the world.”