The Hateful Heavy Heart | 18+

11 - Decisions

Much to my dismay, Ruggiero did not get me off upon his return. He was too tired, said something about complications at work. There had been a small brawl, between an angry customer—something about a diagnostic test gone wrong—and one of the newer mechanics. There apparently had been a lot of pushing and shoving, he explained, and he didn't jump in until someone almost got hit with a wrench. I agreed; it seemed like a long day indeed.

Wanting to do something nice for him, I fixed him dinner and ran a bath for him. I didn't know how Ruggiero liked baths, but they always managed to help me ease the tenseness in my body. While the bath ran—I was partially excited because I'd use one of my favorite bubble bombs to make it look nice and fluffy; the scent was chamomile and lavender—and the food cooked, Ruggiero sat next to me, wearing only his wife-beater, his boxers, and his socks. I explained to him that he didn't have to strip himself just to be comfortable on the couch, but he insisted, saying as he didn't want to dirty my couch with the dirt of his uniform. As reruns of I Love Lucy played on the television, Ruggiero reached out to grab my hand.

"Yes?" I asked, acknowledging the weight of his hand mine. "Is everything okay?"

He nodded, even going as far as to offer me a lazy smile. "I just wanted to apologize, dolcezza. We were supposed to have such a good session that your toes curled."

Rolling my eyes, I smiled back a little. "It's okay, Ruggiero. You're a working man. Your tiredness is all but expected." He nodded appreciatively and I left it at that.

Much to my dismay, Ruggiero didn't seem to be done talking. I didn't mind the sound of his voice. No, I rather enjoyed it. But I was irritable tonight. Maybe it was because yes, he was supposed to make my toes curl when he came back. Maybe it was because what we were doing felt too domestic. I couldn't quite figure it out. "Can I ask you a question?" he said, his hand gripping mine a little more tightly.

What could he possibly want to ask me? I would never know if I never listened. "Humor me."

Nothing in that moment could have prepared for what came out of his mouth. Not even a mix of vodka and orange juice. "Why did your last relationship end?" It should've been a simple question with simple answers, but it was complicated for many reasons. Not all of them I could explain.

"Tell me about work," I said instead. He already had, but that didn't mean he couldn't tell me the second time. Maybe this time he could be more enthusiastic about it.

He didn't seem to be dropping the topic. "I know that sometimes you're a little hard to get through to, but you're not awful. And whether you believe it or not, you're quite domesticated, not like an animal. Domesticated as in you're tidy, you cook well, you have good personal hygiene." He sat up a little straighter on the couch, turning his body to me. I didn't make eye contact. "You're sweet, too, amorina, when you want to be. I don't have to tell you this because I know you know, but sex with you is amazing, too. So, forgive me, but I am curious."

The air around me became thick. Because he believed I was unlovable, I wanted to say, and maybe I was. I was hard to love, I knew, and no matter how hard I tried, people only got bored or only used me for the vessel between my legs. It was whatever. I was used to it. As long as I was in control. It had been different, though, with Garret. I thought I had finally found love and acceptance. Naturally, it was difficult for me when he decided to leave. But I wouldn't dare to let that show, not to Garret or anyone at that. Like the headstrong bitch I was, I took it with a grain of salt, accepted the next month's rent money, and went on with my merry life.

I sighed and hoped he could tell it was a sigh of annoyance. "Assuming I even had a previous relationship to tell you about, let's just say it ended for various amount of reasons," I told him. "Arguments, mutual dissatisfaction, mutual loss of interest, adultery." I wasn't completely lying. The first and the last reason were very true. We argued constantly and when it got too much for him, he found solace in the arms—well, between the legs—of another woman. I didn't hate her. No, Katherine was all types of sweet. But Garret? He was sour as hell.