Dating da Vinci

Monica gathered her things. “I wish I didn't have to. Judges are sticklers for promptness. Let's get together again soon, though. Wow. I already feel better talking to you like this.”

And I felt strangely worse. “I can't wait another two weeks. Can you come over tonight?”

“My daughter has a basketball game and then I have to take the red eye to New York. As soon as I get back, though. I promise.”

“How long?”

“Three days. Four tops.”

I watched her leave as elegantly as she had arrived, though she was now a different person in my eyes. I knew her secrets. Some of them, but not all. Not the one I needed to know the most. I knew she was a cheater. Jonathon was a cheater. But what about Joel? What about my husband? And was I the rebound girl that became the rebound wife?

Was Joel just seeking revenge when he took me as a wife?

Alfred Lord Te

I knew I needed escape. I took Bellezza for a jog around the neighborhood when I really wanted to jog to the local 7-Eleven for a box of Ding Dongs. I had helped the boys with their homework and began putting away the mountain of clothes in my closet. I found pieces of apparel I had forgotten I even had. Brightly colored clothing. Blues, greens, reds, purples. I told my mother I didn't need help this week. I told Anh I was cutting off the organizational umbilical cord. I had to do it myself, for myself. If she and my mother kept cleaning up my messes, I would never learn. I knew I could not become Normal when my world was still so cluttered.

As I vacuumed the dust bu

I had become da Vinci's security blanket, making America a little easier for him, just like he had made life a little easier for me. And I owed it to da Vinci, Panchal, and especially myself, to straighten things out.

So I implored Zoya, who was usually up eating a bowl of cereal with her pregnant appetite, to stay at the house with the boys so I could go fetch some Italian.

I had expected to find the frat house pumping with party music, but it was strangely quiet, the side door propped open with a large rock, making it all too easy to sneak in. I had no idea where I would find him, but I began climbing the stairs when a young freckled-faced frat descended the stairs with a beer in his hand. He immediately put the brew behind his back. I must look like someone's mother and he assumed he was in trouble. “Are you here to apply for the house mom job?”

My ego deflated, but fortunately, it wasn't that big to begin with. “House mom? Definitely not. I'm looking for Leonardo da Vinci.”

“Einstein? Oh, he crashed in Pickler's room.”

Einstein? Pretty rude, wasn't it? Just because a person doesn't know English very well doesn't make him dumb. “Could you show me the way?”

“Sure thing. Right this way. I really think you should consider the house mom thing, though. You get free room and board, and I'm sure the guys would like you. Our last one was a real old bat.”

I couldn't even get my own boys to clean their rooms, let alone a hundred hormone-crazed frat boys. I wasn't sure if I should feel complimented or insulted.

The frat boy-who told me his name was T-Bone, which seemed like an awfully big name for such a small man-led me through the stained-carpeted hallways, passing by the TV room with three guys asleep on the couches. The pungent odor was worse than da Vinci had described, a combination of alcohol, urine and gym socks.

T-Bone rapped lightly on the door, then peeked inside and turned to me with a grin. “He's busy,” he said taking a swig of his beer. “Sure you want me to disturb him?”

I shook my head, feeling hot tears rush to the surface. I should've left it alone. A few more weeks and da Vinci would've weaned himself from me. Why rush it? I heard moaning from inside the room and considered rushing in to surprise him and just end it right there.

“She's sick,” T-Bone said as he walked away. Intrigued, I stuck my head in and saw that a girl was throwing up in the trashcan next to the bed. Da Vinci lay on the bed, in the position I was so familiar with: one arm on his belly, the other above his head, in a deep sleep.

I entered the room to help the girl. I held her hair as she threw up and helped her to the bathroom to wash her face. “Jell-O shots,” she said, clutching her stomach.

I 'd forgotten all about those lethal jiggly things. Jell-O was strictly a kids' thing in my world. “Guys use them to wear down your resistance,” I told her, thinking it didn't seem like da Vinci to get a girl drunk to take advantage of her. A girl didn't need to be inebriated to want da Vinci.

The girl studied my face, the color returning to hers. “I'm Cheye

“I'm Ramona.”

Cheye

I could hear da Vinci begin to snore. “That's right. How did you know?”

Cheye

“He does? But I thought… well, you were in here with him.”

Cheye

“He is?” I looked back and watched da Vinci's chest rise and fall, and longed to touch him. He'd been so distant lately, so not the guy that had strolled into my classroom two months before.

Cheye

“He said I was thirty?”

“Think so.”

Bless him. He gave me six years. Then again, he didn't even know my real age. The only time he'd spoken of our age difference was to say that it didn't matter. “So he's never been with a girl here? Even when he's drunk and not knowing what he's doing?”

“What? Oh, no. The girls try, but he says he's with Mona Lisa. He's kind of become the big brother of the house. All the guys look up to him.”

“Really? Because he's been skipping his English class and not showing up to work.”

Cheye

“So they mean it as a compliment? But what about his drinking? Doesn't he party all the time?” God, I wasn't sure if I sounded like his jealous girlfriend or his nosy mother.

Cheye

“ My da Vinci does that?” My heart swelled with pride.