One Life To Live

I laughed, “When? When was this?”

“Ah, first grade?” Greg grinned, handing me my mocha. I was getting the feeling that this guy was a morning person – which I’d say was very rare among men.

“You proposed to your teacher in first grade? Oh my isn’t that—”

“Pathetic? Yeah,” he smiled.

“I was going to say cute,” I bit my lip, sipping my coffee. “How old was she? Did you know?”

“Probably in her mid twenties,” he shrugged, “she looked like quite the fox to me when I was seven.” He laughed at himself shamelessly.

I laughed at his obviously enjoyable memory. “I bet,” I paused, taking another sip – man, this coffee was good. “So what do we have in store today?”

He shrugged one again. “I didn’t really have much in mind. What do you feel like doing?”

I thought about it, surprised for a moment that he didn’t have anything in mind. Though, I guess it wasn’t always the guy’s job to pick what the dates would be like. Women had say, too.

“Um, well since we’re in the city,” I shrugged this time, “perhaps just walk around? Take in the sights?”

“You sound like a tourist,” he chuckled.

I smiled. “I’ve only been here a couple years. I hardly really go downtown a whole lot.”

“That’s right. I bet being a college student doesn’t really allow you time to shop.”

“Money, either.” My nose crinkled – no, definitely doesn’t allow for a lot of that.

He nodded, looking ahead at the rush of oncoming civilians – well, mostly jaywalkers taking a stroll in the middle of the street. I could tell he wasn’t one for the hectic part of New York City – which I thought was ironic. He was most likely born here, though, so it didn’t look like he had much of a choice. Greg placed his hand on the small of my back and led me across the crosswalk and I sighed in contentment. I could see the Broadway musicals on display, Hard Rock Cafe down the street, and a crop of tourists taking pictures of Time Square. It seems to hold so much possibility and room to re-start your life which was exactly why I was attracted here.

Greg and I walked down 42nd street and I glanced around taking in all there was to see. It never got old – walking down these semi-crowded streets and seeing people with all different agendas. Whether it was a woman in slick khaki pants in heels leading a group of business professionals, or two individuals like Greg and I who had snuck out from their apartments to have a lunch rendezvous.

I saw a Godiva chocolatier and I salivated in envy – chocolate was one of my biggest weaknesses. I peered over at Greg, and he just smiled. He wasn’t big on small talk – not that I needed him to say much. I just couldn’t help but think about how Lance would’ve seen my glance at Godiva and demand he buy me some. I frowned to myself. For one thing, I shouldn’t be thinking about Lance and another thing – how selfish of me. It’s not like Greg would want to go into Godiva and spend $50 on a box of chocolate just because we were on a date, right? My shoulders sagged, my mind wandering to Lance again. Yes, I thought firmly, he would definitely insist on doing something like that. He was so perceptive of everything I did. It was hard not to compare him to Greg. Though, Lance could have more money than Greg and could offer those things. I guess I was just used to being spoiled by Lance.

Greg and I finally decided on Bryant Park. We walked into the area and sat down on one of the tables. I smiled at him and flipped my hair back. He spoke. “I’m being pretty boring, aren’t I?”

I was taken aback. “Not at all. I like just walking around.” I shrugged, looking up at him with a smile.

He sighed, and took one of my hands, twiddling my fingers. “You’re very different from the girls I’m used to,” he gave me a crooked smile.

Amused, I grinned. “Oh? And is that a good thing?”

He rubbed his chin – which was a little scratchy, “I would say so. I’m just used to – high maintenance girls. Girls who can’t be quiet enough,” he laughed. “I’m not used to talking all that much.”

Funny, I thought, because it seemed like he did a lot of the talking that first night I met him. I wondered if it was a that-was-a-party-and-now-I’m-actually-alone-with-you kind of thing. It was a lot like that with guys I’ve dated. “It’s all right,” I said to soothe him, “it’s just one of those days for me. The not-speak-at-all, just-listen kind of day.” I smiled. “I go hot and cold sometimes.” It was kind of a lie. I’m not bipolar, I just choose to be quiet when other people are.

He seemed to be comforted by this because he nodded. “I agree. I’m like that too.” He glanced over at a couple who seemed so engrossed in each other it was hard not to want to know what they were talking about. I sighed.

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On our way back, Greg insisted that he buy me lunch, and I was okay with it. We stopped at Olive Garden, and I got my usual – the ziti. He bought us red wine, and we laughed and chatted over lunch. Greg was more open now – clearly over the silence he had earlier this morning. Our waiter, Eric, was a very hospitable blond haired college student who was enthralled by me – it was really obvious. Greg raised his eyebrows at me and gave me a knowing smile. I shrugged at him, trying to look noncommittal. Eric was very daring because when he gave me the check, he had written his number on it. I flushed, embarrassed, and Greg shook his head like he couldn’t believe what just happened.

“I’m going to have to watch my back with all these guys trying to get in with you, huh?” He smiled flirtatiously.

I rolled my eyes, and smiled. But on the inside, I felt like if I had met Greg a week sooner he would’ve had to worry – because I somehow always seemed to run into Lance. At Walgreens, at my house when I had to sew his arm, and even at the party when I actually met Greg. Now, however, I hadn’t seen him for at least three or four days. It seemed he was finally done with me. Which should’ve relieved me. Instead, I couldn’t have felt more alone and unsettled. Even if I was seeing Greg.

Greg took the check and I protested, “I can pay for some.”

He slanted me a look, and shook his head. “No. I let you get away with it the first day, but not anymore.”

He paused to take out his check card, and I couldn’t help myself. I leaned forward and saw the name, GREG LUCA, printed on the front of it. Huh. Why did that name seem so familiar?

I thought and thought. Where have I heard that before? I stared at the table, and finally remembered where I heard the name, ‘Luca’.

Jimmy Luca.

Lance’s best friend.

My jaw set and my shoulders tightened. A sinking feeling drew me in and I couldn’t believe it. Greg was really related to Jimmy Luca. I wasn’t ever going to escape being drawn back to Lance, was I?

Though, I caught myself, I could be getting in over my head here. How did I know Greg and Jimmy were related? Luca wasn’t an uncommon Italian name. There, I thought relieved, that’s probably true. It wasn’t like Greg knew Jimmy.

Once we were on our way out of the restaurant and toward Greg’s car in the parking lot, I needed to know. “Hey, your last name is Luca?”

He turned his head to me, with a blank expression. “Yeah, why?”

“Do you- do you know Jimmy Luca?” I asked, my breath stilling in the back of my throat waiting for his answer.

“Yeah, he’s my cousin.”

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Greg dropped me off at the college, and I couldn’t help but think, Holy God.

I picked the lock on my door, and bust through the frame falling face first on my couch.

What. The. Hell.

I should’ve known better – I really should have. I mean, I met Lance at a party. It wasn’t unlikely that his friends would frequent them.

And host them.

I shook my head into the fabric, groaning. It seemed I couldn’t ever date in New York City without the guy being somewhat related to Lance.

That was just great for the girl who was trying to get over him. Unsuccessfully I might add.

Damn it.