Page 8 of Loss and Damages

Jemma

I close the gallery an hour early. I couldn’t help anyone, not with the way Dominic Milano left me. My heart shredded, my nerves frayed.

I kept my cool while he stood in my shop, the painted teacup looking ridiculously small in his huge palm. Like he could close his hand into a fist and crush the porcelain into little bits and pieces with no effort at all.

Dangerous, his dark hair pulled back into a stubby ponytail, whiskers covering a strong-as-steel jaw. Bloodshot eyes. I’d never say so, but his skin reeked of alcohol. He’d gotten drunk and his body hadn’t recovered.

Leo’s funeral took place yesterday at the biggest Catholic church in St. Charlotte.

I rarely watch the news, but I let the TV play while I made dinner.

I recognized Dominic as a pallbearer along with five others who had similar coloring.

All the Milanos boast dark, shining hair, olive skin, and eyes so deep brown they look black.

After cashing out my register, I listlessly sort through my stock.

I have a few things I can display in place of the tea set Dominic bought, but I’m not in the mood to decide which pieces to put out.

My best work came from the days Leo would sit with me and experiment with color for his own paintings and chat about life.

I loved those afternoons, when I could get lost in his words and the paint.

I’d have plates and cups and vases and washing basins and pitchers done before I knew it.

Painting isn’t a chore, I love it and I love that my grandma passed down her patience and talent to me, but being a creative can be lonely and Leo took a lot of that away.

I lock up and fix a light dinner consisting of a ham and Swiss cheese sandwich and potato salad that I eat while sitting on the porch, the breeze ruffling my hair and the sun shining in my eyes.

The gallery blocks some of my view of the lake, but I don’t mind.

I could sit on the gallery’s porch if I wanted a front row seat, but I like my garden and sitting near the firepit in the evenings.

Leo used to love that, but I was hesitant to tell Dominic too much about his brother’s time here.

It unnerved me he kept asking if I was pregnant, and he looked disappointed when I assured him I wasn’t.

I understand a baby would have been Leo’s legacy, but it’s not a burden I would have wanted to carry.

I don’t trust the Milanos, and I didn’t believe Dominic when he said he wouldn’t pursue custody.

Of course he would, and if he wouldn’t have, his mother and father would have.

They wouldn’t have let a no-name girl raise their grandbaby.

Not the all-powerful Milano family who always gets what they want.

The thought of him standing in my shop still sends a shiver down my back.

Dominic’s sexy as hell. He could be penniless and that wouldn’t take away from his mesmerizing allure.

It isn’t any wonder he hasn’t settled down, not when he could have any woman on the planet. I pity the woman he falls in love with.

There won’t be anything left of her.

Gloria rings her bell as she bumps along the path to my cottage. “Hello, hello!” she calls, waving, her little dog sitting in the basket as usual.

I wave, a piece of crust between my fingers. At least I’ve already eaten and won’t have to invite her to stay for dinner.

“Can you spare a bowl of water for Coco? It’s warm out here today,” she asks, parking her bike and lifting Coco out of the basket.

“Of course. Do you want anything?” I ask out of politeness.

Now that Leo’s gone, my customers and Gloria are all I have unless I drive into the city, something I don’t often do.

I’m content in Hollow Lake with my gallery, the coffee from the café, and the meagre grocery selection in the little market.

“I wouldn’t turn down a glass of wine,” she says, settling in the chair next to mine.

“Sure. I’ll be right back.”

Inside, I pour us both glasses of a local wine I buy in town, and out of the goodness of my heart, I cut slices of the cheesecake I made last night in an attempt to keep myself from crying. It didn’t work.

“Thank you, dear.” Her eyes light up when she sees the cheesecake and she all but rips it out of my hands. I set our wineglasses on the narrow table between our chairs and go back for Coco’s water bowl.

Now that my hospitality has been given and received, I sit in my chair, put my feet up on the railing, and breathe deeply.

I’m still trying to come to terms with the fact that Leo will never again park his Aston Martin in my driveway and lope across the grass to my cottage, a big smile on his face and news to share.

I sip my wine.

I was able to say goodbye and if I wouldn’t have had that, there’s no way I would be this calm and accepting.

No, not accepting. Resigned. Though, it’s only been a couple of days.

Maybe the shock hasn’t hit yet. That would be a more likely explanation, and I gulp my wine in preparation for what’s coming.

Coco lays in the sun.

Crickets buzz.

Gloria is as quiet as she can be, her mouth full of cheesecake.

It’s pleasant.

It would be more pleasant if she were my age and not my mother’s.

I need friends, and friends who live in Hollow Lake, not the city.

Tara and I are close. She’s the closest thing I have to a best friend, but she was Jeremy’s girlfriend, then wife, first, and she’ll always put Maya before anything I would ever need.

It’s tough to meet people. When I was growing up, I gave all my time to Grandma Darcie and I wouldn’t have the business I have now if I hadn’t. I should try harder, but thinking about it makes my head hurt.

“How are you doing?” Gloria asks in a voice that’s much too quiet for her.

I look at her out of the corners of my eyes, but she doesn’t have the gleaming eagle eye she usually does whenever she’s looking for gossip.

Her hair is shorter than the other day when we heard news of Leo’s accident, and there’s less gray, too.

Maybe that’s what I need—a trip into the city to go to the salon.

I could definitely use a trim and some new makeup. Maybe a new dress.

I could ask Tara to go shopping, and we could take Maya and have ice cream.

Lifting a shoulder, I say, “Okay, I guess. Dominic Milano came into the shop—”

Gloria gasps, and I hide a smile against the rim of my wineglass.

“He said he found the gallery’s brochures at Leo’s apartment, and he was curious.

I told him we were friends, that he liked to drink wine and talk about art.

I guess he wanted to know what Leo was doing driving from Hollow Lake into the city in the middle of the night.

He never came right out and asked, though. ”

No, he didn’t ask because he was too busy wondering if I was carrying his brother’s baby, but I’m not getting into that with Gloria. I’m not talking sex with a woman twice my age.

“Did you show him Leo’s paintings?”

“No. Leo asked me not to tell anyone, and I won’t.”

She gives me a dubious look. “Did he mean in death, too?”

“Well, he never came right out and said so, but I don’t think dying was on his list of things to do. There’s no harm in keeping it to myself, is there?”

“I suppose not, unless Dominic Milano decides you’re keeping a secret and tries to bully it out of you. Do you think he’ll come back to your shop? To talk about Leo some more, I mean?”

I freeze in my chair. I don’t think I could handle seeing Dominic again.

He’s too overpowering. When I saw him in my showing room, my heart felt like it’d been hit by lightning, and it’s not something I want to repeat.

“Nope. Absolutely not. He got what he wanted. He bought that Johnny Jump-Ups tea set, though. That was nice.”

“Hmmm.”

“What?”

“Jemma, you were the last person to see Leo alive. If Dominic Milano misses his brother, he’s going to latch on to you.”

“What is this, some kind of Psych 101?” I try to joke, but I don’t like that what she’s saying sounds all too possible.

“Nothing so fancy as that. Human nature, I suspect. But maybe you’re right.

He’s gotten what he came for. I better go,” she says, standing and patting me on the knee.

“Call if you need anything. Leo was always around and I took that for granted, but us ladies out here alone, we have to stick together.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Gloria lifts a sleeping Coco into the basket attached to her bike and wobbles down the gravel path to the road, the back wheel flattening under her weight.

One day, and one day soon, she’s going to need to find a different mode of transportation to her shop.

I watch until she turns the corner onto the road, her house not far from my cottage.

I sit on the porch until the sun starts to go down, pinks and oranges streaking the sky. I try to convince myself that tomorrow will be the day I’ll paint, something small like a ring dish, but even a piece as small as that weighs heavy without Leo’s company.

A mosquito lands on my thigh and I let her suck my blood. It stings, but I don’t stop her.

I wonder who Dominic is going to spend his night with. A nameless, faceless, warm body? The online rag mags report his every move and I know he’s not in a serious relationship. They call his dates the flavor of the week, a woman never lasting longer than seven days.

Would I let him take me to bed if he showed up, right here, right now, and offered?

I try to think of something else, but I sit, let the mosquito drink her fill, and I can’t get the sight of my little teacup sitting in Dominic’s palm out of my head and what other things he could do with his hands.

I toss and turn all night. I haven’t been sleeping well since Leo passed away.

It’s crazy how easy it is to get used to something, someone , and the empty bed taunts me as I brush my teeth.

I can’t help but remember how Leo would lie on my bed as I went through my nightly routine, talk to me with his head propped on his hand while he waited.

I think watching me change into my pajamas and brush my hair was his favorite part.

I don’t know why. He was always relaxed and casual at any time of the day, but in the evening, what little tension he had would ooze out of him and he would cuddle me and talk about whatever was on his mind.

He never spent the night, and one evening I asked him if he was going home to a woman. Brushing a kiss over my cheek, he said, “You’re the only woman in my life, Jemma, but this time isn’t ours.”

I didn’t know what he meant by that, and I still don’t.

I wasn’t seeing anyone when he came to the gallery that first day, but I don’t know if he broke up with someone to start spending so much time with me.

There are a lot of unanswered questions, and they’ll always remain that way.

Trying to find some normalcy, I dress in a sundress and pin my hair into a bun.

I put makeup on, hoping to disguise the shadows under my eyes.

I’ve read about grief and know missing him will never fade.

Over time, I’ll just be able to tuck it away into a corner of my heart where it won’t hurt so much.

There’s someone already waiting on the porch when I let myself in through the back of the gallery, and I unlock the front door and invite a middle-aged woman inside.

While she browses, I open the register, putting in the cash and coins I might need to make change, and sign into my Square account to process the day’s sales.

I still haven’t decided on anything to replace the tea set Dominic purchased yesterday.

I don’t have another set that large. The bigger sets always sell well, but I need so much time to finish them.

Now that Leo’s gone, I’ll have more than enough time to replenish my stock, though it will be difficult to find the motivation. I’m not used to working alone.

Toward the end of the day, I’m stiff, my muscles aching with the expectation that Dominic would come back to the gallery to talk about Leo.

I dread it, that Gloria’s prediction will come true, as much as I look forward to him stopping by.

I was the last person to see Leo alive, I’m sure Gloria was right about that, and if Dominic thinks he has a connection to me, maybe that’s not a bad thing.

Dominic is Leo’s brother, and he’s the closest thing I’ll ever have to being with Leo again.

That’s a crutch I can’t afford to lean on, I tell myself, flipping the Open sign hanging on the gallery’s door to Closed in relieved disappointment. Dominic isn’t part of my life and doesn’t want to be. Leo’s dead and it’s time both of us moved on.

Leo wouldn’t want me to wallow, and I should try not to.

After I lock up, I change into sloppy shorts and a tank top and bring a banana to my workshop.

I need to start painting again. It’s something I enjoy, but it’s also my business.

If I don’t paint new things, my money will dry up and I’d have to find work.

I’ve never held a job. I’ve always been able to earn what I need to pay my bills selling my art.

I don’t want to let that go, and Leo would be disappointed in me if I did.

I play some music, avoiding anything Leo and I listened to, and dig into my supply of china pieces. I don’t have a tea set—I’ll need to order one—but I have a large basin and pitcher and decide cherry blossoms would look lovely.

It’s soothing to paint again. After my grandma passed away, it was difficult to keep going. Every brush stroke reminded me of her and the time we spent together. Now Leo’s gone, and I’m back to that same empty place.

I paint until well past midnight, and it’s the first day since Leo’s wake that I’ve spent an entire twenty-four hours alone with no one to talk to but my customers.