I was barely out of the shower when I heard the doorbell.
Seriously, how the hell can it be that the probability of people showing up at your door or calling your phone increases significantly when you're in the bathroom? One of the great unsolved mysteries of the universe perhaps? Or maybe it simply seems that way because of the annoyance factor?
"If it's important they can damn well come back later," I growled irritated and commenced applying aftershave to my face.
But for once the true and tested method of outlasting my opponents by ignoring them failed miserably. Whoever was at my door clearly had no intention of giving up or postponing the untimely intrusion in my routine - the bell just kept droning on and on and on. The sound was getting on my nerves.
"This better not be a Jehovah's Witnesses or some stupid salesman," I thought as I rinsed my face and threw on my bathrobe.
And no - it most definitely was NOT a Jehovah's Witness. In fact the tall attractive blonde leaning against my doorbell would be far more likely to bear witness for the other guy - you know, the one downstairs. My ex-wife's face lit up with a dazzling bright smile when she saw me.
"Hi honey. I'm home."
I was too stunned for words. Not that any were needed or expected – Gina was always very talented in the noble art of one sided conversations - and I caught a whiff of her perfume as she gave me a swift peck on the lips and sailed past me into the house like she owned the place.
"What the...?"
I managed to collect myself and headed after her. She was already in the kitchen, currently busy checking out the content of my fridge.
"Amore, you eat like a stupid teenager! Hotdogs – no good. Microwave dinners – don't even constitute human food. Ketchup – how come you drench everything you eat in that nasty stuff? Candy – no good for you, goes in the garbage. Pop Tarts – are you really eating that? Beer – how come more than half of your fridge is occupied by beer? That's not food. And this hamburger is way out of date..."
I sat down at the table and tried to wrap my mind around what was happening.
"Gina? What exactly are you doing?"
She looked back and gave me that thousand watt smile again.
"Why, making lunch of course Silly – don't you know what time it is? Oh tuna, egg and shrimp – so you DO have real human food here. And cheese too. I think we will have a nice frittata..."
"GINA!"
"Yes amore? "
I finally had her attention. Time to find out what the hell was going on. So I asked her the most pertinent question.
"When did you cut your hair?"
She struck a pose and made a 360 spin modeling-style, "You like? I did it when starting work. In the world of corporate law long haired blondes are mostly secretaries and I wanted to be taken seriously as a lawyer."
I had to admit that the short blonde hair and the understated yet elegant pantsuit made her look all business. And adapting a more conservative style certainly hadn't taken anything away from her attractiveness. She was still as hauntingly beautiful as she had been when I last saw her almost six months ago.
Well, technically only five months, twenty-one days and ten hours ago – but who's counting?
She had been the typical beach-blonde back then. Amazing how radically a person can change in just a few months – and sadly this goes for relationships as well. She had walked out on me in a really bad way and in doing so broken my heart. We were as good as over.
"Gina. You know we're divorced, right? Do you realize what that means?"
She continued stirring the eggs while talking.
"I'm a lawyer amore. I know very well what divorce means. And we are not, nor are we ever going to be. Do you want peas and shredded carrots in yours? Veggies are good for the stamina you know."
Huh? Had she fucking lost it?
"Gina. You know as well as I do that papers are filed and our divorce will be final in two months. There is nothing..."
"You silly boy," she laughed. "We both made a promise to God till death do us part. You can file all the papers you want but one does not simply break a promise to God. You have a wife and she is not going anywhere in this lifetime. There is nothing that you, the courts or all the kings men can do to change that. Now stop acting stupid and tell me where you keep the oregano. Please tell me that we are not out..."
"YOU walked out on ME Gina. Remember? What was I supposed to do? What was I supposed to think?"
"I didn't walk out on you amore. Never. I just needed a little time-out to collect myself after you told me about your problem. What did you expect? I was deeply shocked and distraught."
"PROBLEM? What problem? I have no fucking problem. It's a preference – or a fetish, if you will. I'm a guy for Christ sake. We're turned on by various parts of women's bodies. It's the natural way of things. Your god made us like that."
She turned the frittata – it smelled delicious.
"Whatever. I was weirded out and you made me very sad too, realizing that I did not correspond to that odd fetish of yours. I had to talk to Nonna about it and decided to live with her for a short while – she always knows what to do. Unfortunately she is getting older and is no longer so healthy, so I guess my stay became a little longer than planned. I am sorry amore, I should have talked to you much sooner, but then I started work and time just trickled away."
I always found Gina's grandmother on her father's side – Nonna – a little scary. You know the kind of person that gives you the feeling that they're looking right through any pretense or bullshit? The kind of person that just seems to know all about you five minutes after you meet them? That was Nonna in a nutshell – an Italian version of Agatha Christie's Miss Marple. She might have been old and frail, but she was the undisputed grand matriarch of her family. She was the one everybody in her family looked to for guidance or assistance, and I was positive that she had approved of me as a suitable husband for Gina before my proposal was accepted.
Knowing this, it made perfect sense that Gina had seeked out Nonna as her safe harbor in a storm. I should have thought of that when she disappeared and I couldn't reach her. What I didn't get however was WHY she had been so upset over what I said in the first place. It's not like I was into hard bondage or torture or something.
Gina walked behind my chair and put her hands on my shoulders. They felt dry, slightly cool and so good I got goose bumps.
"Ohhh you are SO tense amore. I think I need to massage these sexy broad shoulders of yours a little while the food cooks. Then maybe we can see about the rest of your various... areas of tension... after lunch."
She bent down to my ear and whispered.
"Remember that you are dealing with a woman in her prime who has not had any kind of sexual satisfaction for six months."
I tried to turn my head, but she held me in place and kept kneading my shoulders.
"Surely you masturbated regularly..." I began.
"No. I am a married woman and I refuse to do my mans job for him."
"So you have really been celibate for ALL that time? No dating, no fingering on the dance floor, no quickie with an old boyfriend, no nothing?"
"I have been unfailingly true to my vows amore. As have you."
"Eh, how do you know...?"
I jerked up and turned to look her in the eyes.
"Fuck Gina! You had me followed, didn't you? You had a goddamned tail on me!"
"I asked Papa to put a couple of men on you, yes. There are so many women out there who would love to get their hands on somebody like you, regardless of the fact that you are spoken for already. I trust you with all my heart amore, but I do not trust THEM. I had to protect our marriage."
Now I was pissed.
"Trust is good but control is better, huh? Is that it? That stunt has NOTHING to do with trust Gina. So how about yourself? I didn't have anybody spying on you. How do I know for sure that YOU haven't been sleeping around on me with other guys?"
I didn't even SEE the hand that hit me, and I more 'heard' than 'felt' the slap that made my left cheek burn. My ears hadn't stopped ringing yet when a large carving knife was slammed half an inch into the tabletop right in front of me with a sharp thud. Gina held the handle in a white-knuckled grip and stared at me intensely, her brown eyes like smoldering embers of burning coal. There was no smile on her face now.
"Don't you DARE question my honor Lance – EVER!"
She held my gaze for a second, until I blinked. Then she jerked the knife free and turned to continue her cooking. I heard a cucumber getting sliced with a lot more ferocity than normally needed for the task.
Whew. Our time apart certainly hadn't dulled that temper of hers. And considering her aggressive sexuality, living half a year without orgasm probably didn't help her mood. I briefly considered saying something about double standards, but swallowed my clever comeback and remained silent. This was not a good time for a biting retort. Sometimes silence is gold.
****
The meal was delicious and I realized that lack of sex and companionship wasn't the only reason why I had missed Gina.
You know how some women live by the saying: 'the way to a mans heart goes through his stomach?' That's a lie of course, perpetuated by ugly or frigid women who would rather cook than fuck, but being a great cook never hurts your popularity. Gina grew up in a family of gourmets and could play the kitchen like a concert pianist plays a Steinway. I hadn't had a home cooked meal for a long time and enjoyed the hell out of this one - to her obvious delight.
But we still had some major issues to straighten out and no amount of food would fix them for us. I told her so much and she somberly agreed. Thus we found ourselves in the living room in a pair of easy chairs recovering from over-eating and enjoying a glass of quality Recioto.
