And Yesterday Is Gone by Dolores Durando

Author:Dolores Durando
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Infinite Words

CHAPTER 28

Four months flew by in a whirlwind of work. No need to search for anything to write about in this enormous city teeming with life. The streets, my hunting grounds, provided the raw material.

Whores who called me “Sonny” offered services at a reduced rate. The wretched homeless were ever-present. At first, it was impossible to resist an outstretched hand, but as time went on, it became easier for me to walk with my eyes straight ahead. Then there were the gangs that fought for dominance and would kill for a pair of shoes. The downside of a beautiful city.

What a thrill to get an approving nod from J.W., to see my name in print in the byline on the front page. Time slipped away.

Then I was jolted back to another world by a scalding letter from Sis.

“You haven’t been home in almost four months,” she accused. “Just because you think you’re a big stud in the city. Telephone calls don’t count.”

“Stud?” Apparently her vocabulary had expanded since she’d married that marine.

Counting on my fingers, I figured she was getting close to the arrival of that little person who would call me “Uncle Stevie.” I knew I needed to go home.

Only yesterday we were fighting over everything, and Sis tattling to Ma that I’d taught that miserable old dog to hump every stationary shoe. I had to admit he was an enthusiastic student.

I called J.W. and told him I had contacted leprosy and needed some time off. He agreed that my immune system was probably down and gave me four days to recover. I made plans to go home.

I hadn’t seen Juan for months either and, as Sis said, phone calls don’t count. Her letter slowed me down and brought me back to another world.

Despite Sis’ snide remark about phone calls, I promptly called Juan. Hearing his happy voice, I realized how much I missed him and how deep was our friendship.

“Juan. It’s my party—find us the best restaurant in the city. We’ll have lunch and talk all day. I miss you.”

His delighted voice never hesitated. “The Grotto on Fisherman’s Wharf. Tomorrow at eleven. Don’t be late—I have so much to tell you.”

Parking was a challenge, but after a half-hour search, I found the only parking space available in the entire city.

Hurrying to the discreetly elegant restaurant of Juan’s choice on the wharf, I found him waiting for me, seated at a table overlooking the water. His long-ago words, “I’m waiting for you,” crept out of the depth of my subconscious, and I loved him for his innate sense of decency and his loyalty to a hopeless cause. I almost wished things were different, and wondered: Will a woman ever love me as much?

He stood, my arm around his shoulders, our hands clasped, with sad resignation in his eyes that contradicted the ear-to-ear smile on his handsome face.

We sat down at the table with spotless linen.

A slight nod brought a white-coated waiter. Juan waved the menu away and ordered something I couldn’t pronounce and a bottle of sauvignon blanc.

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