(another excerpt from the novel in the drawer)

As it turned out, she didn’t see him for several days. She tried not to worry about his absence, but trying not to worry just seemed to cause her to fret all the more. Even Flo noticed, telling her at one point to “Go get some fresh air, love. I can’t bear to look at that long face.” She had said it kindly, but Margaret sensed the irritation beneath the words. She supposed that she was moping, but she didn’t know how to stop.

            Her instincts told her that if she were to drop by Niccolo’s apartment, he would be annoyed at her. She wasn’t sure why she knew this—she just did. Besides, if he wanted to see her, he knew where she was, but such resolutions within her felt as if they had the strength of jam.

            It was another angry-sky day. The clouds were black and tall and seemed to roll in like ships from the sea. She could feel the wind picking up. No doubt it would be raining again within the hour. The past few days had been a succession of thunderstorms and sun breaks. She was tired of it. It needed to be one or the other, she thought.

            She was two streets over from Niccolo’s apartment. If she turned right at the next corner, she could be at his door in a few minutes. The cross-street got closer with each step, and she could feel that familiar battle seething within her. Her head told her that she should just leave Niccolo alone. He obviously didn’t want to be bothered with her. But she needed to see him, to make sure he was all right, still there. With each step, she felt as if she was going back and forth in the argument. Stay away … go … stay away … go. She decided that whichever foot hit the edge of the last building in the block first would determine whether she would go or not, and then started hoping it would be the “go” foot—which it was.

            Now that she was headed toward Niccolo’s apartment, she felt better, less weighted down. She felt the familiar flutter in her stomach and groin, the sudden knowledge that she would be close to him soon. Her steps took on a new cadence: please … don’t … let … him … be … angry … please … don’t … let … him … be … angry. Over and over again until its repetition had brought her to his building, up the stairs, and at his door. She knocked. And waited.

            She heard him approach the door, stop. “Who is it?” his voice asked.

            “It’s me, Margaret.”

            No answer. What was he doing? “A moment, please, cara. Just a moment.”

            She could hear him retreat back into the apartment, the sound of things being moved. She smiled. The apartment was no doubt a mess. He was tidying up for her. She wanted to tell him not to bother, that it was fine, the mess wouldn’t bother her, but she didn’t. Eventually, the door swung open. He looked terrible. She was sure he hadn’t slept since the last time she had seen him.

            “Oh, Niccolo,” she said, moving toward him. “I’ve missed you.” She threw her arms around his neck and immediately noticed how ripe he smelled. Sweaty, acrid. There was something else there, unfamiliar. “Love, you look so tired. Have you eaten? Have you slept? What have you been doing?”

            He held up his hand. “Please, cara, stop. I can take care of myself. Stop it.” His tone was sharp. The tears sprang to her eyes. She knew she shouldn’t have come. What should she have expected? Perhaps he had a new lover. Maybe that was it. She turned away so he wouldn’t see her cry.

            “Damn it!” he said. “I’m sorry. I did not mean to be harsh to you. I am tired. So tired. But I have so much work to do. But I am happy to see you.”

            He had his hand on her shoulder, pulled her back toward him so that she was leaning against him. She willed the tears in her eyes to stay put, wondered how long it would take them to dry if she didn’t blink. “I’m sorry, too” she said. “I was just so worried about you.”

            She put her hand up, stroked his whiskers with her palm. He kissed her palm. “I am hungry, cara. If I give you some money, could you go find us something to eat? I’ll clean myself up while you’re gone. I’m sure I stink.”

            She started to nod her head no, then began to laugh. “Well, to be honest, Niccolo, you do smell … awful.”

            He nudged her toward the door. “Well, let’s get you out of here before you suffocate.” He pulled money from his pocket, thrust it into her hand. “Whatever you want, love. Take your time, though. It’s going to take me a while to get clean.” He was pushing her toward the door. It was only after the door had closed behind her that she realized how strange it all seemed. He was tired, she told herself. And hungry. And obviously grouchy. She smiled. Perhaps she could fix that.

It must have been almost an hour before she was able to make her way back to the apartment. While she was out, there had been a heavy downpour, and she had taken refuge beneath an awning to wait it out. She had eventually  made her way to a café and now carried two box dinners—meatloaf, potatoes, and apple pie for dessert. She figured he hadn’t eaten anything sensible for days. This would stick to his ribs, and she would make sure that he ate most of her portion, too. The sky rumbled overhead as she walked into the building. When she knocked on the door, he answered immediately, and she was pleased to see that he was clean-shaven and freshly scrubbed.

He kissed her as he took the two boxes from her. “Thank you Margaret.”

She followed him to the kitchen, watched as he poured them each a glass of wine. He looked as if he had lost weight since the last time she had seen him. It had only been a few days, but he looked haggard; his clothes hung looser on him. She reached out a hand to touch his belly. “Niccolo, if I didn’t know better, I would think you hadn’t eaten. Is Schlomo driving you so hard?”

He offered her the glass. “Drink, cara. I don’t want to talk about work right now. I just want to enjoy this moment with you.” He took a long sip of his wine, his eyes never leaving her face. “I am hungry.”

They sat at the small table. She was surprised though at how little he ate. He seemed distracted, somewhere else, as if the simple motion of lifting his fork to his mouth required too much concentration. She was tempted to offer to feed him, but shied away from asking, afraid he would think she was mocking him. She was wary of his mood, and she found that she did not eat much either. It was hard to relax, but she forced herself to smile, to make small talk, to pretend not to notice just how far away he was.

“It was lovely of you to bring me some dinner, cara” he said. “But I really must get back to work now. I don’t mean to be rude, but I think you should go back to Flo’s.”  He had picked up the plates from the table, was carrying them to the sink as he spoke to her. She was being dismissed.

She slammed her hand down on the table. “Niccolo. This is ridiculous. Have I offended you? Have you met someone else? Tell me.” She knew she sounded shrill, and yet she couldn’t stop herself. She rubbed her stinging hand against her skirt.

“No … no … ssssh. Come here. That’s it,” he was stroking her back as he held her against him. “I am just so busy right now, cara. There is so much to do. So much to be done.”

“What are you doing?”

“I am working. I told you that.”

“But what are you working on that is keeping you so busy? And how can you work here? Are you going back to the shop so late?’

“Please don’t ask me to tell you these things,” he said. “Just trust me when I tell you that I am working.”

“Niccolo. Why should I trust you when you do not trust me enough to tell me where you are going? Is it to see another woman?”

“Oh cara. There are things in this life that are more important than other women. Don’t be silly.”

“Silly? I haven’t seen you for days and you’re rushing me out of here as if I have leprosy, and you’re calling me silly?”

“Right now, I am working on something that is more important than us. Please understand.”

“How can I understand if you won’t explain it to me?” She slapped his chest with the palm of her hand. She pulled back her hand to do it again, this time with her fist closed, but he grabbed her arm.