Feral Hearts Read online

  There was a loud gulp of coffee from behind the newspaper and then silence. He wasn’t getting in the middle of this one.

  “I’ve lived,” Lucy said defensively.

  “You’ve taken a ton of classes, you’ve done well, but you’ve never been out on your own. You’ve never had to budget, pay bills, or plan for your present and your future. Lucy, Honey, your whole life has been in preparation to live one. You’re not going to find your entire life’s fulfillment in your job. You have to go out and create a life for yourself.”

  Lucy was silent, processing her mother’s confrontation. Apparently her mother had been waiting for some time to unleash this intervention. Her mother waited expectantly for Lucy’s reaction.

  “Wow,” said Lucy, taking a deep breath and looking down at the table in embarrassment, “I guess I never thought of it that way.”

  Her mother regarded her with regret. “I’m sorry, Honey. I guess I didn’t want it to come out like that. I didn’t mean to jump down your throat. I just want you to be happy.”

  Lucy looked her mother in the eye. “No, Mom, maybe I needed to hear it that way. You’re right.”

  Relieved, her mother reached across the table and took Lucy’s hands in hers. “That’s wonderful, Honey. You know, it’s okay to be nervous about it. At your age, it isn’t unreasonable to think that you’ll never meet anyone.”

  “It isn’t?”

  “No, it isn’t. Then, one day, it just kind of happens.”

  “But I don’t feel I should be looking for it,” declared Lucy, again a little too authoritatively given her very limited experience.

  “Ah,” said her mother, “I believe this is what you shrinks would call a defense mechanism. A good guy just won’t drop in your lap. You need to go out there and find him, just like I had to go out and find your father.”

  The newspaper lowered and her father raised a sardonic eyebrow. “How do you know I didn’t go out and find you?”

  Her mother reached out and touched his arm, and his expression melted. “We found each other,” she said.

  Lucy perked up a bit. “I did always want to go somewhere in Europe. I have about ten thousand saved up from my teaching. I was going to use it towards getting an apartment.”

  Her father folded up his newspaper and placed it on the kitchen table in front of him. “Once you start working you’ll have the money for an apartment. Use your savings for something fun, something frivolous, while you still have the chance.”

  Lucy, getting into the spirit, stared into space as if conjuring up some scene in her imagination. “I always wanted to go to Italy.”

  “That’s it, Honey,” said her mother, looking pleased. “Go online and go find some tour. There are plenty of them. Your father and I have been on a few, and they’re great. They take care of everything for you—hotel, transportation, meals, itinerary. Maybe find one that caters to your age group.”

  Lucy went online that night and searched the worldwide web for tours to Italy. There were a few, most within her price range. The question was what part of Italy she wanted to see. The country was so diverse—rolling hills, forest, beaches, mountains. After poring over tourist photos and reviews, she decided on the Tuscany region. In fact, she found a tour that covered the Chianti region and Cinque Terra, covering both rolling hills and the coast. What’s more, it was geared towards young singles.

  The next day Lucy awoke with doubts in her mind about the trip. Excuses not to go flooded her brain—it was too expensive, it was too frivolous, it was money she should save in case her first job didn’t work out.

  Her mother saw the doubt on her daughter’s face at the breakfast table without Lucy ever having to verbalize it. “Lucy, Honey, how are your friends—Amy, Mary, Lisa?”

  “I don’t know. Okay, I guess.”

  “You’re wrapping things up in your program. Don’t you think it’s time to start reconnecting? I’m sure they’re anxious to hear from you.”

  Lucy stabbed at her scrambled eggs. “Mom, I have to prepare for my defense.”

  “Honey, it’s a month away. One night won’t derail you. Besides, you know your stuff inside out.”

  “I guess I can call the gals.”

  “One of these days you have to teach me how to stay on my diet, Dr. Ricci.”

  Lucy smiled. The title sounded so odd to her, but it was nice to hear. “You look fine, Mom.”

  “No, really, Dr. Ricci, I need some advice, and I expect a family discount.”

  The two ladies chuckled as they finished breakfast.

  That night, a few phone calls later, Lucy was stepping into a local Italian restaurant to meet her friends, Amy and Lisa. It was their favorite place. The seafood was to die for.

  “Lucy Ricci, party of three,” she said to the hostess. Lucy was a little early, but she was of the mindset that early was on time and on time was late.

  The hostess scrunched up her nose, “Party of three? I’m sorry, I have here party of five.”

  It took a second before Lucy realized what that meant. Amy and Lisa brought their boyfriends.

  “They’re already seated,” said the hostess. “Right this way.”

  Lucy’s mind raced as she followed the hostess through the restaurant. Of course they brought their boyfriends. They were in their mid-twenties and in serious relationships. Amy told her that she and her boyfriend, Rob, were even discussing getting engaged. Still, Lucy was disappointed. She wanted her friends all to herself, but she now supposed that they had all outgrown that whole thing…well, at least Amy and Lisa had.

  When Amy and Lisa saw Lucy their faces lit up. Lucy stifled her embarrassment and self-consciousness and managed to return a smile. Rob and Mark, Lisa’s boyfriend of three years, both stood up in a chivalrous gesture of politeness.

  “Well, look who’s back from the dead,” jested Amy.

  “Hi, Amy. Hi Lisa. Hey, Rob and Mark,” said Lucy as she took her seat at the table. Still being polite, Rob and Mark sat down slightly after Lucy did.

  “So how’ve you guys been?”

  They already had their drinks. Amy and Lisa were drinking white wine, chardonnay most likely. Rob and Mark had beers.

  “Hey, stranger,” said Lisa. “We’ve been good, even without our Lucy.”

  “Oh, it hasn’t been that long,” said Lucy. “Has it?”

  “Oh, just ignore her,” said Amy. “We’re glad you called us.”

  Lucy wondered if it really had been that long. It couldn’t have been. Why, she just saw them…well, it was…wasn’t it…

  “So, Lucy, you’re almost done with your program,” said Amy.

  “Congratulations,” said Mark, raising his beer glass and taking a heavy slug.

  “Almost,” replied Lucy. “Just finishing up my internship and getting ready for my oral defense.” She suddenly felt self-conscious. “S-so, how about you guys? How’s work?”

  “What work?” jeered Rob, elbowing Amy playfully. “School’s out for summer. We finished yesterday.”

  “These lazy bastards,” said Mark. “I should’ve been a teacher.”

  “Hey,” said Amy, pointing her fork at Mark, “we put up with a lot of shit all year. We need the break. Junior high is rough.”

  “Yeah, but there’s one silver lining,” added Rob.

  “And what’s that, Sweetie?”

  “You get to see me every day.”

  There were chuckles all around. In fact, Amy met Rob at their school. He was a first year teacher, and it was her third year. She was a real veteran, battle tested. He was a rookie, vulnerable, his idealism from college rapidly eroding from the reality of inner city middle school.

  The waiter approached the table. “What would you like to drink?” he asked Lucy as he handed her a menu.

  “A glass of chardonnay please, strained over ice.”

  “That’s our Lucy,” teased Amy.

  “How about you guys?” Lucy asked Lisa and Mark, happy to have the topic of conversation off of her s
eemingly interminable schooling.

  “Work’s good,” said Lisa. “We’ve had a few big audits. They went smoothly, though. No surprises. Everyone escaped with their jobs. But it’s been real busy.”

  “How about you, Mark?” Lucy asked. The waiter placed her glass of wine in front of her.

  “There’ve been layoffs in our department, mostly older employees. You know, the bigger salaries, but sooner or later they’ll make their way down to my level.”

  Lucy sat there listening to her friends talk about their work-a-day lives with envy. Sure, they made jokes about how miserable they were. Amy and Rob complained about the kids in their school, their complete lack of drive and manners, and the total absence of parental involvement. Mark seemed to be outrunning the specter of layoffs (for the moment).

  However, Lucy was watching their body language. She couldn’t help it. It was her newly acquired training. They were all sitting back in their chairs with open body postures, smiling, and gesticulating enthusiastically. Despite all of their pissing and moaning, they appeared happy.

  She envied the fullness in their lives. While she sat in classes, the perennial student, they were going to work, getting stuff done, getting paid, making plans. Although she was the same age, she suddenly felt like a child sitting at the adult table, unable to relate to the conversation or participate in a meaningful way.

  “So, Lucy, what’s your dissertation on?” asked Rob.

  Dammit.

  “Oh, nothing fancy. Just studying what makes people cheat on their diets.”

  Lisa grabbed Amy’s arm in excitement, nearly spilling her glass of wine. “Ooooh, I gotta hear this.”

  “What are you talking about?” asked Amy. “You’re the skinniest bitch here.”

  “So, you did an experiment or something?” asked Mark.

  “Not exactly,” said Lucy. “I used structural equation modeling to create a roadmap of variables that lead to disinhibition…or overeating.”

  Although she rattled that statement off like she was describing a movie she just saw, it was quite the earful for her friends. There was a brief, uncomfortable moment when they all stared blankly at her. This was why she hated discussing her dissertation with people outside her program. It made her feel like such an egghead. It was so academic.

  “So,” said Lucy, changing the subject rather abruptly. “Anyone have any plans for the summer?”

  “Mark and I are moving in together,” announced Lisa, barely able to contain herself.

  “Oh my God,” said Lucy, putting her hand over her mouth, “that’s amazing! Congrats, guys!”

  “We’re looking for a place in Williamsburg,” said Mark. “We figure we can swing it with our two incomes. It’s expensive, but it’s a really cool place to live.”

  “Aren’t you worried about the layoffs?” Lucy asked, perplexed that he could be so flip in the face of potential disaster.

  “I figure I can’t live in fear my whole adult life,” said Mark. “Besides, Lisa won’t let me.”

  “That’s right,” said Lisa, leaning into Mark and slipping her arm under his. “You only live once, right?”

  “Lisa, I thought you said you weren’t ever going to leave Greenpoint,” said Lucy.

  “Oh, Luce, that was when we were kids.”

  Lucy blushed at the remark.

  “It’s still Brooklyn,” said Mark.

  “Barely,” teased Amy. “Lisa’s gone to the dark side. She’s becoming a hipster.”

  “Sorry we all can’t represent like you, Amy,” retorted Lisa.

  “We’ve been looking at a few places,” said Mark. “There’s a couple we liked.”

  “That’s great,” said Lucy, recovering quickly. She suddenly felt like the room had gone up fifteen degrees in temperature. She took a long sip of her cool chardonnay, the moisture on the glass cooling her hand.

  “How about you guys?” Lucy asked Amy and Rob.

  “We’re going to Honduras to teach English,” said Amy.

  Lucy nearly choked on a swig of her wine. “Honduras…to teach English.”

  “Yeah, we figured it would be a great way to spend the summer,” said Rob.

  “But…I thought you couldn’t wait to get away from your students,” said Lucy, again perplexed.

  “Yeah, but these are Honduran children,” said Amy, as if that was sufficient explanation.

  “How about you, Luce?” asked Lisa. “You’re almost done with your program. How are you spending your summer?”

  Now Lucy felt like she was in the pizza oven.

  “I’m…going to Italy next month.”

  Lisa and Amy traded looks. They were impressed.

  “Wow, Lucy, who would’ve thought?” said Lisa. “That’s a perfect way to celebrate getting your doctorate.”

  “I know why she’s going to Italy,” declared Amy, slurring a little from what Lucy estimated was her third glass of wine before the salads came out.

  “And why’s that?” asked Lisa.

  “She wants to meet one of those sexy Italian men, you know, with one of those manly mustaches.”

  “You mean like one of those old timey villains who ties young women to train tracks,” quipped Rob.

  “No like the Monopoly guy,” corrected Lisa. “A guy with money.”

  Lucy’s face felt hot. It was like they turned off the ventilation in the restaurant. “Well, it’s actually one of those tours for singles,” said Lucy.

  “Oh, you weren’t that far off,” said Lisa to Amy. “Good for you, Lucy. Get back in the game.”

  Thankfully the salads came and the conversation slowed significantly as mouths were full of lettuce greens and alcohol. After her second glass of wine, Lucy was significantly more relaxed. She could do with a third, but unlike her girlfriends, she had no designated driver with her, one of the downsides to perennially going stag.

  Lucy sat in the crowded terminal waiting for her flight pondering the last time she had a good lay. Could it have been at that house party with the philosophy doctoral student…in the second year of the program? Her whole life for the past five years was framed in the context of her corresponding year in the program. She felt like Harry Potter, and this damned program was her Hogwarts. It was time to change all that.

  She looked around the terminal and then at her watch. She still had around forty minutes until her flight began boarding, and there was a small bar next to her terminal. She stood up and stretched her limbs, scouting the bar for a possible victim…male candidate for her to approach.

  She saw one sitting with an empty stool to his left. He was about her age, maybe a little older, sandy hair, with a square jawline, nicely dressed. He’d do just fine. She reached down, shouldered her small carry-on bag, and made to take a step towards the bar.

  Suddenly butterflies erupted in her stomach, freezing her in her tracks. She silently chastised herself. Jesus, was she this rusty? She’d been coaching socially anxious male co-eds at the university counseling center on how to approach women. It was all semantics. One had to redefine success by attempt, not outcome; one only had control over the attempt, not the outcome. All she had to do was take her own advice and she’d be fine.

  Lucy mustered up the courage to walk over to the empty seat next to the man. On her way over she passed the ladies room, so she decided to make a quick stop to check herself out in the mirror and make some quick adjustments if necessary.

  When she entered the ladies’ restroom there was an adolescent girl washing her hands. Lucy stood in front of the mirror took stock of herself. She cursed her dark circles, evidence of chronic sleep deprivation. She decided to let her auburn hair down, which helped to frame her face. She checked her teeth, but they were clean.

  Lucy was an attractive young woman but like many young women, when she looked at herself in the mirror she only saw her flaws. In her estimation her hips were a little too big and her legs a little too short, but what the hell? When she decided no more could be done to help her appearanc
e, she left the ladies’ restroom.

  She chided herself for spending so much time in there, but she still had a half-an-hour left and the seat next to the man was still empty. She strode over and took her seat.

  “Vodka and cranberry,” she said to the bartender, who nodded and turned to make her drink.

  Lucy glanced over at the man, who glanced back. She looked away quickly, unsure of what to say. She looked over again and took stock of his beverage.

  “I that a mojito?”

  The man appeared slightly startled, but he smiled and answered, “Barely. No mint, too much sugar, and 7-Up instead of seltzer.”

  Lucy smiled back, “It’s difficult to get a decent mojito outside of Miami.”

  “You can say that again.”

  The bartender placed Lucy’s blood-red drink in front of her. “Eight dollars.”

  Lucy reached into her purse and produced a ten. She slid it across the bar towards the bartender. “Keep the change.”

  The bartender nodded. “Thank you.”

  Lucy took a sip of her drink and looked at the man, who was back to staring ahead. The delicate momentum of the small talk had been disrupted leading the interaction back into inertia.

  Lucy flipped her hair. “So, are you on the flight to Florence, Italy?”

  The man looked back at her and smiled again. “Yes, as a matter of fact I am.”

  “Me, too. My first time.”

  “My second time, replied the man. I went to Rome two years ago.”

  A personal disclosure. Lucy smiled, encouraged by the apparent motion of the conversation. “I hear Tuscany is beautiful.”

  “Same here. Are you going with a tour?”

  “Yes,” Lucy said. “How about you?”

  “No. I’m meeting some friends in Florence. We’re going to rent a car and travel together.”

  “Oh, that’s nice.”

  “Which tour did you sign up with, if you don’t mind me asking?”

  “Camillo Tours.”

  “Nice. That’s the one that specializes in young singles.”