The Unforgettable

The phone starts to feel sweaty in my hand, my heart rate increases and I remember that I still don’t have anything to say to him. I could totally hang up now, I doubt he’d call back. And too late, he answers.

“Hello?” his accent sounds thicker over the phone.

I take in a breath, “h- hello.”

“Hi. . . How may I help you today?”

I bite my lip and tuck a strand of hair behind my ear, “It’s Gianna. . .”

There’s silence and then I realize that he may not even remember me, why would he? I’m just a random woman he met on a random day, probably uses the lines he used on me on all recruited patients. My cheeks burn with embarrassment, I start to feel stupid again and I have a half a mind to hang up and pretend I didn’t call.

I sigh, “you bought me pie . . . We uh went on a walk afterwa-“

He cuts me off, “I remember,” states it matter of factly.

There’s silence again, rustling on his end and I huff, “are you busy, did I catch you in the middle of something?”

“No, no, no,” he says then sighs. “I’m sorry I am in the middle of filling out all of my papers, I guess I’m lacking in actual conversation. How about you stop by my office? We can chat in person. Being in the presence of one another I won’t forget you’re here if you’re physically here. If we’re on the phone it is a different story. But these papers are going to take me a few hours and I can’t put them off any longer, I’d really enjoy your company as well.”

I blush again and close my eyes. “Uh, okay. What’s the address?”

“Ready, have a paper and pen?”

I say yes but just use the notes app on my phone to take down, 0420 Marigan Blvrd, 67421.

“It’s just outside of the downtown area,” he says.

“Okay, got it.”

“Great,” I can hear the smile in his voice. “See you soon then, call me if you have any issues getting here.”

I say okay and goodbye, end the call and toss the phone onto the floor where it’s still plugged into the charger. This is really turning into a real deal therapy session, there’s no way this isn’t a rope in to become a new client.

After an hour I’m in the back of a cab giving the address to the driver and we take off. My hair’s pulled up high into a tight ponytail, I’m wearing jeans and a green button up blouse and I rub some chapstick on my dry lips. I lean back against the backseat and rest my head in a position that lets me watch the road and the people on the sidewalk. Leaves are falling from trees, orange and red cover the grass, green is hardly visible from where I am.

It’s a 20 minute drive, traffic isn’t terrible because it’s after lunch hour and before the rush hour at five. We’ve hit the downtown area which means we’ll be at his office any moment now. I suck in a breath and my heart starts pounding again, I still don’t have anything to talk about. Why am I even going, what the hell am I doing?

The cab pulls up to an old, chipping, egg shell colored brick building.

“This your stop,” the taxi driver says.

I look at the building more, it looks like it’s going to crumble any day now. I huff, dig for my wallet in my purse and pay the man with a thank you then I hop out.

I stand there as the cab driver quickly pulls out into the lane before the oncoming traffic gets too close and have to wait for an opening. I watch as he drives through the traffic light and out of sight. I don’t know why I watch him drive off, stalling I guess. I hike my purse onto my shoulder and walk towards the building, it looks almost abandoned. I walk to the front and up the crumbling concrete stairs I get to the large dusty decaying wooden door to see a scratched away sign next to it.

I can barely make out, “Billy’s Insurance is Your Insurance.”

Shit this isn’t even the building, that’s better I guess. I look up and down the street to the buildings are more abandoned places then the further you go it turns into housing. I look across the street, the buildings look more occupied over there when the road is clear of cars I hurry across the way and up the sidewalk. These buildings are also brick, in better shape, the normal red rustic brick color. I read the building numbers, 0412, 0415. There’s buildings at the top too, I back up to read those, 0413, 0414, I walk down further and finally get to the 0420 building upstairs. I sigh, this is not what I was prepared for, good thing I didn’t wear heels. I make my way to the metal steps and go all the way up I stop in front of the heavy looking black door. Under the building number is a sign with Giancarlo’s name on it and underneath says, let’s just chat.

I roll my eyes, it’s kind of annoying how much he’s trying to appeal and appear as a friend, it’s kind of funny too. I stand there because I’m not sure if I should go in or knock, I almost expect there to be a door bell. I don’t know I feel like there would be a lobby area, I don’t think I’m going to walk right in the middle of a session if he’s in one. I grab the cold rusty door knob and it doesn’t budge when I try to open it. This time I push the door open ramming it with my shoulder and burst into the room. It’s kind of dark in here with the dark wood paneling and yellowish orangish tint of the lamps throughout the room. No one’s in here, I shut the door and let my eyes adjust to the dimness while looking around.

It looks like an old library, there is a tall shelf of books that stands next to a chair under a skinny tall lamp. I look at the pictures on the wall. There’s several frames of blooming flowers over the entire wall, there are two big green plants that look a little wilted and dry sitting on either side of another door. The other side of the room there’s a couch pushed against the wall with a tiny table holding a stack of magazines and next to the front door I walked in is a huge heavy looking desk covered in scattered papers, books and a cup of pencils. As I stand in the middle of the room on an area rug patterned in an abstract manner the door in between the two what may be Ferns opens letting in more light into the room and making me squint and startling me a little.

“Oh!” Carlo says stopping in his tracks, apparently I startled him too.

We both laugh a little when we realize that we’ve scared each other and he waves me over to follow him into the room he stands in the doorway of and I do.

“I was going into the lobby area to wait for you,” he explains. “I expected you any moment. How long were you here?”

I shrug as I look over this brightly sunlit room and take a seat in the leather chair that’s pushed against the wall under a large window.

“A few minutes, I wasn’t sure where to go or where you were so I took to looking around.”

He nods, sits behind his cluttered desk with a computer, books, filing, stacks and stacks of papers and a printer.

“I was expecting a call or text to let me know you made it here,” he starts flipping through a stack of papers.

I simply nod and look around this room silently. It seems smaller in here, but it’s cozy. The messiest thing in here is his desk, the large windows are a very great touch. Then I realize what was missing in the lobby, windows. There isn’t one window in there and the dim lighting doesn’t help anything. I stare out of the window that’s positioned behind Carlo.

All I see is the green field that seems to spread and go on and on for forever meeting up with the sky.

Carlo looks up from his papers and at me, “what’ve you been up to today?”

I sigh, “sitting at my house mostly.”

He gives a small smile leaning back in his office chair, “no work?”

I bite my lip, “not today.”

He closes his tired eyes and leans back in his chair, “ahh. I would love to have the day off, get away from these papers.”

I smile and glance out of the window behind him again, a squirrel is chasing after another.

His eyes still closed he asks another question. “How’ve you been feeling since we met?”

I shrug again, “fine I guess.”

His mouth forms into a line and his eyebrows crinkle, “why do you guess?”

I suddenly feel like I’m in a session being pried into with questions and I am very uncomfortable.

I push a gust of air out of my nose and clear my throat. “Look Carlo. . .”

He opens his eyes finally and sits up looking at me.

I continue, “I didn’t come here for a therapy session okay? I don’t want to be analyzed or questioned or read. I just. . . I want someone to talk to because I honestly have no one else to do that with.

That’s all, stop making me feel like I’m under a magnifying glass all of the time for Christ sake.”

I said all of this and I feel it’s a bit harsh, I hope he isn’t offended.

He gives a gentle smile “I’m sorry Gianna.” He straightens his shirt and continues talking. “I get in the habit of going too far, uh crossing the line they say? I don’t really spend much time with anyone outside of this office, if I’m not here I’m alone buying my groceries, or spending my time at home.”

I frown, “sounds like a lonely life.”

He laughs now, “not lonely at all. I peruse the town on my off days, if I get an off day that is. It’s pretty nice, I don’t have anyone around to make me feel bad for not focusing on them or paying more attention to my clients rather than the relationship.”

I give a sad smile, “you speak from experience?”

He groans a little, “ah slightly. It ended before we even got to that point, but I foresaw it coming.”

We share a look then he groans again loudly this time because he’s stretching. “Scusami,” he says. “I’ve been at it since seven this morning, I’m quite tired. These papers need to be done and faxed before tomorrow at noon.”

“Damn, how much more do you have?”

He slams his hands on the two stacks of papers in front of him. “These two here.”

I raise my eyebrows, “wow. Could I help in anyway to help the process go by quicker?”

He huffs and spins the chair back to his computer, “I wish. I have to go through these papers and retype them and fill in the blanks for what needs to be changed.”

I start to ask him what are the papers for but I feel like that’s a bit personal or at least confidential. “Why don’t you just fax the papers, load them to your computer and then you can just insert the words into the blank spaces.”

The look that crosses his face is picture worthy, I burst into laughter.

“Gianna, I don’t know why but I have never thought of that. It’s not like the gentleman receiving will care about the appearance of the paper just that it possess all of its content. He readjusts and reprints anyway. Well then. . . “ He looks brightened up and takes a deep breath. “If you don’t mind, you can definitely help me with this faxing process. The fax machine is across the room from my desk and it would make it faster and easier to finish this all up if I pass to you.”

“I’ll help, it’s what I offered,” I smile.

Rising from my seat he passes me some papers and gets positioned behind his computer, then I go over to the fax machine and begin the process of uploading files on his computer, he edits then sends them off the whole process take about 45 minutes and then we’re all done.

“Amazing!” Carlo exclaims. “I honestly didn’t think I would get this all sorted out and finished by the deadline. Thank you so much for your help.”

I smile at his excitement, “I’m happy to be of service.”

He rises from his seat and with a big smile looks at me. “Would you like to celebrate with me this wonderful victory. You must!”

I laugh, “what are we going to do?”

He hums to himself, “hm. What about this brewery a little bit up the way?”

“Day drinking?” I ask a little caught off guard.

He laughs “and Italian food as well as American. It’s a place I go to when I miss home, when I need to taste something that reminds me of childhood, it gives me the strength to go on and not return home.”

He shrugs his shoulders then continues, “I only order drinks on a rare occasion, celebratory or a stressful day which ever deserves the most recognition,” he laughs again.

“Nice, I haven’t really tried Italian food other than pasta dishes.”

With that it’s agreed that we’re going out to eat. I let myself out and back into the lobby while he collects his things. When he comes out I’m observing his two dried up plants.

“Your plants look a little thirsty,” I laugh a little.

He joins the laughter then slides the strap of his bag onto his shoulder. “Yes, I’m not very good with growing or taking care of things. These were very well taken care of before I became responsible of them.”

“Aw, well you should tell their parent they can pick them up any day now.”

He laughs and shakes his head, “unfortunately that is impossible. Ready to go?”

I don’t think anything of the way his face changes from cheerful and a smile to serious and a slight frown, I only nod and follow him out. We climb down the stairs, down the sidewalk and into his car. We ride listening to jazz and making small talk about the ways of the world.

At the brewery, which looks like an enlarged cozy cottage with a giant distillery with huge windows to peer into. We’re seated at a red and white clothed table which is next to a fireplace and handed menus.

“This place is so cute,” I say looking around at the vinery and paintings decorating the room.

Carlo smiles, “I hoped you’d like it here. The décor reminds me a bit of Italy, I feel good here.”

I smile too and we quietly look through our menu. There are a lot of drinks on here and I start to think about when the last time I had a drink. Hm, let’s see. I’d say the last time was last year at my job’s Christmas party. I had two glasses of Merlot and soon after I felt a buzz. I had to stop after the two because Chris hadn’t gone with me that year and I was driving myself. . . Now I wonder if he was seeing her at the time because I recall us having a conversation and verifying we’d attend both of our work’s Christmas parties in the beginning of December like we do every year and not really plan to do much for Christmas that year. Then as it came around to it he had an excuse on why he couldn’t go to mine and I couldn’t go to his but he needed to be there.

“But we’ve been doing this every year, what’s changed?” I whine.

I really wanted to go, I rarely go to parties anymore and both of our jobs have had great caterers the previous years so why not save money, eat a nice meal and get a little schwasty for free twice at the end of the year.

“Sweetheart,” he’s unbuttoning his work shirt standing in the threshold of the bathroom door as the steam fills the room. “I know that we said we were going, but I’m not even going to be at the party I’ll be in a meeting with Mark, Josh and Taylor. We couldn’t all meet during the work week and the company’s closing for the next two days so we don’t have time to do it any other time. When work restarts after the little break we need to already have our game plan set and in progress. I don’t want to leave you alone with my co workers that you hardly know for hours.”

My lip puckers out, “but it’s the night before Christmas Eve.”

“Yes love. . . But it’s not Christmas Eve yet, it’s tomorrow and we’ll be at your job’s Christmas party right?”

“Yeah if you don’t bail on me.”

“Baby, no not twice in a row.”

Now only in his briefs he walks over to the bed where I am lying under the covers and he leans down to kiss me.

“I’ll bring you home some food.”

“You better,” I pout.

His mouth goes to my neck and he softly bites then nibbles my ear, “I’ll have dessert too,” he whispers.

I giggle we share another hot kiss then he disappears into the bathroom.


Little naïve me believed him when he said he’d go to my Christmas party. He came back home that night more than buzzed. I remember his shirt collar was popped and his belt went over one of the loops on his dress pants but I didn’t think anything of it. He likes to get cool sometimes pop his collar and show off his goofy dance moves, and it’s especially true when he’s gotten a few drinks in him. For the missed belt loop, I thought it was merely when he went to the bathroom, maybe take a shit because he has no problem doing that in public and when he was done, missed the loop re-buckling.

He bumbles into our room where I’m lying, reading a book at 12am and he drunkenly smiles at me with low eyes.

“Hey baaaby,” he elongates the word.

My eyebrows knit together and I shake my head in disbelief.

He bites his lip and walks into the room completely and shuts the door.

“Seriously.”

“What hun?” he’s trying to unbutton his shirt, fumbling with the buttons.

“You’re drunk! You said you had a meeting, what the hell how’s this fair at all?!”

“Baby,” he mumbles and the rest of his sentence turns to gibberish. I roll my eyes, shut off the lamp and turn away from him in a huff letting him fend for himself.

Now all the excuses I made sound idiotic and asinine. Who takes off their belt when they go to the bathroom? Unbuckling it, yes, taking it completely off, no.

Anyway the next night he didn’t go with me, said he was staying home. . . An hour before we were supposed to leave.

“Baby,” he says sweetly. He walks up behind me while I’m prepping my hair at the sink winding his arms around my waist and resting his chin on my shoulder.

“Hey,” I’m fluffing my hair trying to maintain the curls I fried into it 20 minutes ago.

He sighs and looks at me in the mirror with sad eyes I can feel the disappointment growing inside me and I huff putting my arms down and face him.

“What Christoph,” I say squinting my eyes at him.

He pouts, “I don’t feel good.”

I stare at him with hard eyes.

“Feel my forehead,” he says softly.

I roll my eyes and put my hand to his forehead, it’s a little warm.

“You’re barely warm,” I huff.

He rubs his stomach, “my tummy hurts. I think I’m still suffering from that hangover.”

I get an attitude, “so what are you saying you don’t want to go?”

He pouts, “baby I don’t feel the best. You know I wanted to go because we didn’t go together last night.”

“What the fuck! Why were you even drunk last night, you said you were going to a meeting! I waited up for you having a boring night alone and you went out and had a great time without me! I bet you didn’t even have a meeting.”

He sighs and tilts his head the back of it tapping the door, “yeah I know it looks bad and I’m sorry. But our meeting ended early, my plan was to say hi to everyone I had a couple beers I was going to stay there max 30 minutes. Then when I was leaving Taylor called me out in front of everyone and pressured me to take a few shots. I don’t know what I drank, but once those hit along with the two beers I knew I hit the level I wasn’t planning on hitting and I know I didn’t make it home until late last night. It was selfish. . . All I can say is I’m sorry and I’ll take you out tomorrow since I’ve royally fucked up both nights and I promise that this will not happen next year.

I groan and close my eyes then sigh in defeat. “You suck. . . Go get in the bed, I’ll make you some tea.”

“Aww baby,” he pulls me into his arms and I bury my face into his chest. “You’re the best, sweetest girl I could ask for.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” I mutter into his chest.

I pull away, he smiles at me kisses the top of my head and gets in the bed while I leave for the kitchen and start his tea in a pissy mood cursing to myself. When it’s done I go to him and hand it over.

He takes a sip, sets it on the night stand and smiles.

“You should still go, no point in babysitting me I’m going to try and sleep this off.”

I nod, “I was planning on it.”

He arches an eyebrow, “oh really?”

“Yes. You didn’t even bring me food, you seriously dropped the ball I’m going to enjoy myself without you. . . Asshole.”

He nods and laughs, “nice. Well have an amazing time then sweetie, you deserve it.”

I sigh, “you’re still an asshole. But I love you,” I lean in and kiss him.

He just gives me a peck, “go on before the party starts and ends without you babe.”

I groan again, “I can’t believe you’re not going, damn it!”

I grumble more, finish getting ready then leave.

But now that I think of it, he was persistent on me leaving once I said I was, like he didn’t want to give me a chance to change my mind. I now wonder if he was fucking her in our house in our bed.

“Gianna?” Giancarlo says concerned.

I snap out of my thoughts and realize that a black haired waitress with red ruby lipstick is standing there staring at me along with Carlo. I burn red and shift my hair tucking some behind my ear.

“Uh sorry,” I say abashedly.

“Can I start you off with something to drink?” she asks seeming annoyed.

“Mhm, ice tea please.”

“Coming right up,” she quickly turns away and sashays away in her tight black jeans.

I look down at the table avoiding Carlo’s eyes.

“Gianna, you alright? Did you blank out?” he sits up shifts in his chair.

I shake my head and laugh in embarrassment, “no I was just caught up in my thoughts is all. Sorry, how long was I unresponsive?”

He shakes his tilted head, “not long, few seconds.”

I bite my lip, he might be lying and he’s analyzing me again.

“I’m so embarrassed. . . Look I swear there’s nothing wrong with me, I’m just going through a lot right now with things at home. Sometimes it’s all I can think about I just get sucked into it. I’ll try to stay focused from here on out,” I smile embarrassed.

He returns the smile, “you’re fine darling.”

That makes me change hues like I seem to do every time I’m with him.

“Just know and I’m not pressuring you,” he says putting his hands down. “But if you have anything you’d like to talk about I’m here, it’s my job to listen but it’s also my way of life, I like to help people figure their way out.”

I look him over, look into his eyes and I see a sweet genuine man. “Thank you,” I meaningfully reply.
We look over our menus again and he begins to tell me about some of the things on the menu.

“The Arancini Di Riso is good, they fry it well they are fried rice balls stuffed with a meat sauce and cheese. . . Do you like veal at all?”

I shrug, “I’m indifferent, I’ve only had it a couple times, it was prepared well when I had it.”

“Well the Braciolone di Vitello alla Genovese are veal rolls cooked with onions, butter and herbs and white wine. It’s delicious, and the Coppa Amarena is a vanilla gelato. It comes with cookies. There’s only gelato served here as desserts but there are a few flavors.”

“What about Tiramisu? I thought that was Italian.”

He smiles and nods, “it is. They don’t serve it here, they should. I’ve been on a search for a bakery or another place that serves Tiramisu, I’d really enjoy it. It was a dessert my mother enjoyed making for us.”

“I’ve never had it before, you have to let me know when you find it so that we can go out for it sometime.”

He smiles and nods, “definitely.”

We order our food, I order the Arncini Di Riso along with a glass of white wine but only because Carlo insisted. He said he was buying, he didn’t want to drink a lone and there was no reason to pass up good wine. He went on to say that we both deserve it because he finished his paperwork early thanks to me and if I’m stressing at home take at least one day to relax.

After we order we talk about his life in Italy. I learn that he is one of four children that grew up in Italy in a town called Umbria with only his mother to raise them.

“My mother, she is a strong woman. I adore her she has such a beautiful soul and I don’t know how she raised the four of us on her own and worked. I miss her very much.”

“Aw, that’s so sweet,” my heart swells for him. “When was the last time you got to see her?”

“It’s been five years since the last time I’ve gone home to Italy. She won’t travel here to America, she’s afraid of planes and gets violently sea sick. So I must get by with the phone calls once a week and her picture on my kitchen counter. One day I can save enough to fly out and see her, stay a while.”

My heart hurts for him and I think of my own mom. Although I don’t have the closest relationship with her I don’t know what I’d do if I couldn’t just get in the car and drive to her house. She’s always there for me to go to.

Our food shows up along with my second glass of wine.

“Wow, this is really good,” I say after my first bite.

He smiles and eats a bite of his veal taking a sip of wine. “Would you like to try my veal?”

He spins his plate around and I take my for breaking off a little piece and plop it into my mouth. “That is tasty.”

“I hoped you’d enjoy it here,” he says.

We share another smile and finish the meal he offers to buy gelato but I pass because I don’t think I can eat another bite and hold him up for next time. We’re now back in his car idling in the parking spot while he replies to some emails and texts he didn’t check during lunch. I watch as water droplets softly begin to patter against the windshield then close my eyes and take a deep breath letting the jazz music fill my ears, the cool A/C softly blow against my face, my stomach is nice and full and I feel good for once in what seems like forever. It does also help that I’ve drank three glasses of that sweet white wine so I’m in an especially good mood compared to the rest of the week.

The song on his radio ends with a soft piano and the rain patters louder and more frequent.

“Why’d you move to America?” I ask eyes still closed.

I hear him take a breath and he responds, “I wanted to further my education, live the “American Dream.” I was in school after my primary levels and graduated with a degree in psychology. I came here at 19 and took some community college classes and also got my medical license and board certification. I worked for an office then at age 22 I found my own office that I call my second home.”

I open my eyes and look over at him, his curly hair sticks all over his face, his smile lingers on his face as he types something up on his phone. I see the dimples in his cheeks, he is gorgeous, there’s no other way to put it. He makes me melt like butter with every pleasant thing he says and he’s gorgeous, how is he single? He’s either gay or just the super sensitive type. . . Maybe he doesn’t want to be with anyone because he’s gone through a heartbreak, he hinted at some sort of relationship before.

He sighs and places his phone into the cup holder, and he turns to me seeing I’m already looking at him and he smiles.

“You look blissful,” he says.

I smile and giggle a little, I’m toasted is what I am.

“I feel better than I was earlier.”

“I’m happy to hear that.”

I sit up and run a hand through my hair, I feel really good. It’s amazing how great you can feel doing something so simple after having such shitty last few days.

I turn to him again, “what kind of wine was that?”

“Uh, Calvarino. It’s a part of the Pieropan family, grape variety.”

“Nice,” I say knowing nothing of wine and I look at the windshield again watching the rain patter and stream down.

I hear him chuckle again then take a breath, “would you like to go somewhere else? I don’t have an appointment until later today.”

I want to spend all the time I can with him God he’s so attractive, and he’s so fucking sweet or is it the wine goggles getting stronger and stronger?

“Yeah, like where?”

He smiles, “we can ride to the park it’s only 4:25.”

4:25! Now I’m more alert.

“Holy shit I have to get home.”

“U- Oh, okay I can take you home.”

My face burns red and I click my seatbelt on, “I’m sorry I- I just really need to get home. But I want to see you again, can we go to the park another day?”

He clicks his seatbelt on and smiles looking at me with crinkled eyes, “of course.”

He pulls into traffic and he drives to my house without having to ask directions, saying he’s always had good sense of direction ever since he was a little boy, he only needs to be told where to go once.
We get to my house in twenty minutes on the way I’ve been hit with another wave of intoxication, I know for sure now I really need to sleep this off. We’re sitting at the curb idling near my house. I take my seat belt off, Chris will just be getting off in fifteen minutes so I have a little bit of time to sit here.

“Thank you so much,” I slightly slur.

“I really enjoy spending time with you Gianna,” he says shyly.

I smile, “I really enjoy time with you too Giancarlo,” I try my best at an Italian accent when saying his name.

He laughs and runs a hand through his hair. “Would it be possible for tomorrow to be the day we go to the park?”

I bite my lip and nod, “I may sleep in a little though so, let me text you okay?”

He nods, I unbuckle my seatbelt look over at the door of my house, the walk up seems so far away even though it’s not at all. I turn to face him for a goodbye to instead surprisingly be greeted by his face right there, eyes closed and his lips pressing against mine.

His lips are soft and not forceful, it’s gentle as he presses against my lips more. My lips tingle and my heart rate quickens, he’s kissing me and I have no clue what to do. I just stupidly sit there as he presses his soft sweet wine tasting lips against mine. He pulls back opens his eyes and looks at me.

“I hope that was okay. I- I’m sorry,” he says something in Italian and shakes his head pinching the bridge of his nose apologizing again. “I’m sorry I don’t usually do things like this. That wasn’t right, I crossed the line.”

I bite my lip, I don’t know what to say and it feels like his is still lingering on my tingling lips.

“I should go,” I say softly. “I’ll text you.”

He looks at me with sad eyes and only nods. I give him a half smile and get out of the car, he waits for me to get inside before he pulls away, I sigh drunkenly smiling to myself.