May passed, moving into a cool June. Cassandra kept busy, hoping Clayton would discover the final piece of the puzzle that would put her life back together. She was enjoying her "paid vacation" in Toronto and the hotel staff was
more
than accommodating – including one rather nicely-hung desk clerk and a very sexy black maid – but Cassandra found herself getting Cabin Fever.
July came and Cassandra decided to do something about her situation. Toronto is July can be very muggy, yesterday it had poured rain, so Cassandra had called her dear friend Kobe – they'd become very close – and the two women spent a rainy day in bed, eating chocolate and drinking wine and having naughty, kinky, girl-on-girl sex.
Even when having a wonderful time with Kobe, Cassandra found herself feeling a small bout of melancholy. She wondered if the
old
Cassandra would have been attractive to the sensual Asian woman? She assumed so, but it saddened her that she wasn't sure.
July in Toronto also has lots to do – including Caribana, which Cassandra promised herself she'd attend for at least one afternoon – but this day, she decided to venture out to Kensington Market. It was a warm day, so she wore a gauzy, cream-colored summer dress, nearly bare underneath, and a pair of strappy, high-heeled sandals. She'd been spending some time in a Tanning Bed, so she'd forgone stockings because of the heat.
The cabbie got her there in short order, charging her a flat fee – partially because he kept looking back at her every chance he got, Cassandra assumed. She got out of the cab and took it all in.
It wasn't hard to figure out why she'd liked this place so much – it was so
diverse
and colorful, with different ethnicity's milling about, shops with wonderful foodstuffs and products, people hustling and bustling – it just seemed to be
alive
and Cassandra loved that.
Around 1 PM, Cassandra found herself ravenous. She and Kobe hadn't eaten a lot of – food – the previous day and she was ever-so-slightly dizzy from the heat. She remembered what Clayton had told her about Tratorria D'el Arte and thought that a nice meal of Pasta would suit her well. She made some inquiries and made her way there.
The minute Cassandra entered the cozy-looking restaurant, Sense Memory kicked in. She
had
been here before, there was no doubt about it. The aromas of Italian cooking washed over her like a fine mist. The up-tempo sound of Italian music, the happy chatter of the customers, the ambiance – someone was even singing in Italian in the back. This was one of her most vivid memories yet.
She took a cursory glance around and saw someone scrambling from the back kitchen, singing in Italian. She didn't get a good look at him, so she followed the man to the nearby table, where he served 2 customers their lunch.
"Excuse me – are you the owner, I'd like a table, I'm famished!" Cassandra said as she tapped him on the shoulder.
"I'm not the owner, I'm the chef and ...
CASSIE!
!"
"TONY!" she responded and the world went very, very black.
Cassandra awoke – she wasn't sure how much later – in a room that was very familiar to her. She knew it well, she'd been here many happy times before.
"I wasn't sure when you were gonna wake up" a voice from the corner said. Tony came into view and sat beside her on the plush bed. She peppered his face with tiny, loving kisses, the tears flowing readily. Looking into his beautiful dark eyes, she could see that his were as full of tears as her own.
"Mama sent up some Minestrone, time to eat beautiful!" he said, placing a tray with a pink rose – she didn't care for red, she remembered – on the bed in front of her.
She
remembered
not liking red roses. She
remembered
Tony's mother's rich, wonderful Minestrone and how good it tasted. She sipped the soup, still hot, still fresh and remembered
Angela's
round, beaming face the first time Cassandra had told her that. She
remembered
it
all
.