Summer always says that walking is a great stress reliever so I started with an evening walk around Encino after I changed and tried to check on Aunt Milly who turned out to be gone. One lap around my neighborhood turned into me walking across the street to CVS, shopping for some late night snacks, and then being distracted by the constant texts of Bash. I kept telling him it was fine that he cancelled our upcoming date on Saturday's but he was so adamant about telling me how sorry he was. To be honest, I really didn't care. I was seeing him more in the light of a friend than anything but a nice date would've been a good distraction from thinking about—my boss. Walking down the street, a few houses down from my place, I received another text from Bash. But this time, it wasn't an apology. My eyes stayed fixed on the screen as I examined the name of the PDF he sent me titled: Is this the 2003 case you were talking about? I couldn't even properly examine its contents when suddenly some man called out my name—nearly causing me a heart attack as I stayed clutching the CVS bag to my chest. Whipping my head around, I first saw the red car and then Ennio standing in front of it.
"You scared me," I gasped, still clutching the plastic bag.
I was about to ask him what he wanted and that he could have called and then I saw the small scratches and dried blood on his chin. My mouth stayed shut as I walked over and tried reaching a hand out towards his chin but he stepped back then told me not to ask.
"At least let me disinfect it and bandage it up," I exclaimed, grabbing his wrist and pulling him towards my front door.
Immediately, I regret my bold decision of trying to play doctor. As soon as I open the front door, I catch a monkey jumping from coach to coach. Slamming the door back in place, I glance to the confused Ennio who's wondering why we're not going in. Then, he catches the shadow of one of the other rascal monkeys jumping by the kitchen window before it leaps out of sight.
"What was that? Did you see it too?"
Genuinely, I feel bad for how stunned he looks right now. But I have no time to explain.
"Stay right here. I'll only be five minutes," I say as quickly as possible when I barge into my place and shut the door quickly behind me before a monkey can escape.
"Aunt Milly," I shout out.
I forgot that she left hours ago and the absence of light in her room set as a reminder.
Crap. She could have at least closed her room door before heading out.
Not only are the monkeys out and having a blast in the kitchen that they know they're not allowed in, but it's an absolute mess in here and in the living room thanks to them. It feels like a whole workout as I throw clothes back into her room. Thankfully, my room door remained closed so there was no need to clean up there. But the living room has picture frames knocked down and other decorations on the floor. I tried setting them up as fast as I could when I heard from outside:
"Marcie, is everything good in there? I heard you scream."
My eyes locked onto the fattest monkey on the kitchen island and I tried to contain my frustration that wanted to scream out for a release.
"You," I grumbled with my pointer finger at his fat belly. "You think you can just jump around here and make noises without consequences?"
He cocked his head as if he understood me then jumped with the other two on top of the fridge. They are insanely cute but moments like these make me want to have a pet tiger—or whatever animal eats monkeys. My eyes locked at the sight of the pink ceramic jar on the counter. I know I shouldn't do this but—I have to. As soon as I opened the pink candy jar, all three monkeys locked eyes at it.
"Yes, come to mama." I pulled a purple gum drop out and waved it in front of me.
They jumped forward as if it was a race but they didn't see the other thing in my hand: the now empty CVS bag. When they put their little paws on the gum drop, I quickly swooped them up in the plastic as they cried and cried. I moved fast to their cages in Aunt Milly's room before they could tear up the plastic. Then, I did something I probably shouldn't have done but—whatever. I slipped some melatonin gummies in between the cage's bars so their little chatters will continue in the dream world. The sugar gliders are silently playing with each other in their cages in the next room and in the corner, I do see Cinderella's cage up. It's hard to see her because of how well she blends in with her environment but I'm sure she's in there.
Finally, I open the front door to let him in as I ask how bad his chin hurts; ignoring his mouth opened for questions about the noise.
"You don't want that perfect face getting ruined," I say, as I quickly pick up a bra and throw it in the other corner while he's looking elsewhere.
"I'm glad we can agree on that."
I roll my eyes at that comment as he turns to smile at me. Usually, I would be annoyed by his self-compliments that he always loved to throw out—but for some reason, tonight I found a sense of comedy in it. I sit him in a chair in my room and try to find my first aid kit on my desk. When I find the tiny white box, I turn his way to see him looking around my room. His facial expressions are giving—quite literally nothing—but I know he has his comments. For a man to have his whole company and his personal outfits in grey or black, my room must look like a nightmare with its vibrant colors splashed onto everything. I wait for another second for him to speak but he looks at me ready to be taken cared of. Sitting on the edge of my bed, he scoots his chair directly in front of me but at least his eyes are on the first aid kit and not directly on me. I'm using every ounce of my body right now to not give any signs that my heart has started to beat. But then I noticed something out of the corner of my eye. His hand is shaking. I accidentally look directly in his face to confirm that he's probably shaking because it is cold in here. But when I looked at him, he shyly looked away.
Focus, Marcie! The chin—remember?
Adjusting my sitting position a bit back onto my bed, I started disinfecting the scratches. I couldn't help but look at his old bruise on his nose that day I spiked the volleyball at his face. Suppressing the feeling of smiling, I focused on getting rid of the dried blood around the edges of his chin. Did he fall? Get pushed? Ran into something? My crazy brain of mine thought he said something after I placed the ointment on, so I looked up again but he looked down at me like I was the one that was trying to speak. We stayed—eyes locked—and right when I felt the tension around us warm into my cheeks, he jerked away. He jerked away to stand up so fast, I lost my balance and almost toppled to the floor.
"It was a fight," he coughed out, embarrassed to look at me.
"A fight!"
Ennio doesn't get into fights. He's the type of person to hire someone to land the punches.
"I don't really want to talk about it but—yes."
There's nothing left to do with his chin—but I feel awkward telling him to leave. But this is the first time he's in my house and it's that fact that makes me more antsy around him.
"Did you want some food before you go," I pipe up, immediately scolding myself for asking such a stupid question to make things more weird.
"Uh . . . sure."
We walked into the kitchen and I scrambled up the packets of ramen I dumped on the counter when I tried to capture those rascals.
"Well—ramen is always good unless you want me to make something else."
"I like ramen—though I never had it in one of these."
"I'm really skilled at boiling water and dumping noodles in," I jokingly say.
Ennio starts smiling back and my heart almost melted when I looked up at his face from the opposite side of the kitchen island. I pulled out a few onions and some mushrooms plus an egg to add to the flavor of the ramen. Store bought ramen always tasted good to me but for this millionaire in my Encino kitchen, it might taste . . . bland. I tried dicing the mushroom into thin slices but with him being there—just staring at my hands while I sliced—the mushrooms soon started shooting out and ending on the floor. I gave up on the mushroom and started on the onions and that was when he walked over to my side. If he simply stood by my side—I would have calmed down my nerves by sliding a bit away—but that's not what happened. He didn't simply walk over and stand to observe me prep the food—he went right behind me and looped his arms around my waist to reach for the knife in my hand. I have no idea what his objective is but there's no way that this man is romantic enough to make this gesture for the sake of it. But I watch on—helplessly, as he starts dicing the onions while my hands stay uselessly frozen on the edges of the counter. I keep watching him slice the onions as if he's some Gordon Ramsey and I can't help thinking: How can cutting onions be this emotional? Tears start streaming down my face and I realize there's a tiny burn in my nose too.
Get it together. It's the onions, you idiot, my brain screams out at me.
My head moves to the side as I move a bit back when I try to get away from the onion fumes then I hear the knife be put down.
"Marcie . . . are you okay?"
Oh shit this stuff is really starting to burn my eyes
"Yes. I—I—it—"
"Marcie?!" He asks concerningly as he turns me around and looks into my watery eyes.
"What did I do?"
"It's the onions," I laugh out, as the final tear runs down my cheek.
I'm still in his arms but facing back to the kitchen island as he moves the cutting board to the side. There's actually nothing else to cut. I toughened it out in the end but now we're just—standing here. I accidentally lean my head a bit back and when it hits his chest, he wraps his arms all the way around me. My head jerks away. I can't scold myself for reacting like this. This Ennio Fabrizi we're talking about and I still have no idea what the hell has been happening and is happening between us. The sound of boiling pot of water behind us is my good excuse to break away but then he squeezes his arms a bit tighter around me—locking me fully in place. I can't say I'm uncomfortable or that I'm hating this. It's just a clear romantic action I'm not used to an arrogant robot having.
"Let's stay like this—just for a little while. I need to test something to see if it's true," he whispers out in that deep velvety tone he has no idea messes with my head.