Til You Come Back to Me Again - A Love Story

Broken

Broken

Six Years Later

It was another day at work with Angelo. He had meetings all morning at the hotel, so we didn't see Suzanne. She was still in bed when we left. She usually was. Many times, she stayed in her pajamas and drank the day away, which was really sad.

When I came to stay with Angelo and Suzanne, Angelo decided to teach me at home. From the very beginning, Suzanne never participated in my education. She always said she was too busy, and it saddened me that she never gave me attention. She was the only mother I had now, but I guess it didn't really matter to her.

I was ten now, and when Angelo had meetings, I usually went with him. I would sit in his office and quietly do my work.

I learned so much from Angelo, and I don't know why, but learning quickly became a need for me. I needed to take in everything and I couldn't seem to stop. In addition to my school studies, Angelo taught me to play the piano and I practiced for an hour each day, sometimes longer, wanting to play as well as he did. We soon began to play duets. He always told me how proud he was of me, which made me happy because he was happy.

Angelo had studied martial arts for years, and one day I asked him to teach me. He told me it was actually Jeet Kune Do and explained exactly what it was and what was involved.

"As I explained to Suzanne years ago, Jeet Kune Do is a martial arts system that encompasses physical, scientific, mental, social, and spiritual knowledge. It's completely different from the other forms of martial arts."

"What do you mean?" I had asked.

"Well, it is all about using minimal movements and extreme speed to gain maximum effects. It's a set of tools that you use for different situations. Bruce Lee was the Jeet Kune Do master, and he said that the perfect style was no style, and you can use something from everything. You use what works and throw everything else away. He didn't like formalistic fighting, which is what most forms of martial arts are about. It makes sense." He had grinned at me. "But it doesn't make sense to you, does it?"

"No," I had answered, "but I still want to learn."

He just chuckled and hugged me, and I knew he would agree. So, he began giving me instruction and told me he was blown away by how fast I learned. Well immersed in the art, I soon moved on, needing to add something else.

After watching a concert on television one evening, the next day I asked Angelo if I could learn the cello.

"Are you sure?" he asked me.

"Yes, I really want to learn."

He bought me a student cello, hired a teacher and I started lessons. Studying and practicing hard, I picked it up quickly. I immediately moved on to the violin and the guitar, and Angelo turned one of the extra bedrooms into a music room for me. My instruments stood in every corner, and framed posters of great musicians hung on the walls.

A few months before I turned nine, I wanted to start studying ballet. Angelo didn't bother asking me if I was sure. He enrolled me in a class one afternoon a week. I advanced quickly and was now en pointe. He had floor to ceiling mirrors and a barre installed in the vacant game room. The room already had a hardwood floor, and I now used it to practice three times a week. Angelo said he was completely amazed by me. He called me a prodigy and always showered me with praise. He encouraged me in everything I wanted to do. It was one of the things I loved about him. He had no idea that this was how I coped. To keep from thinking about my mother, I needed to focus on other things. This is something I did not truly understand until I was older. I needed stability, and it seemed Angelo was now the only permanent fixture in my life.

While Angelo sat at his desk with Tim and Andrew, I worked in my spelling book. Sensing his gaze, I looked up and smiled. Having learned some sign language online, I lifted my hands and signed, "I love you, Angelo."

Grinning, he signed back, "I love you, too, tesora mia." He always called me his little treasure.

* * *

Angelo finished his meeting by two. After the men left, he packed up his laptop and helped me pack up my things.

"What do you say we call Suzanne and see if she wants to go out and eat with us?"

"Okay. Can I call her?"

"Sure."

He gave me his cell and I dialed. I knew there was a good chance she would say no, but there was always hope. I still loved Suzanne and I really missed the days that she loved me too. The phone continued to ring, then it went to voicemail.

"No answer at home," I finally said. "Should I try her cell?"

"Yes. If she's out already, maybe we can meet her."

While I called, I watched Angelo look over his appointment book and check his schedule for the next week. He closed it, his eyes growing distant, and he suddenly looked tired, and sad.

"Who is this?" I asked when a male voice answered. Then I heard familiar laughter and Suzanne's voice saying, to the man, "Come back to bed." I immediately hung up and handed Angelo the phone.

"What is it?" he asked, the sadness in his eyes deepening.

"A man answered and . . ."

"And what?" he said, pressing a hand to my cheek. "It's all right, sweetheart, you can tell me."

Tears rolled down my face, my young heart breaking. "Angelo, she was laughing and told him to . . . come back to bed." I started crying and Angelo held me as I buried my face against his shoulder. I was young, but I knew what I heard. I couldn't believe Suzanne could do this to him. To us.

"It's all right, tesorina," he whispered into my hair as I clung to him. "Everything is going to be all right." He kissed my brow. "Let's go home. We'll stop and get something on the way."