Sweetness with Bitterness
When Lorenzo disappeared I wanted time to stop so I could still feel him from that morning: the scent of his skin, the touch of his hands, the warmth of his body. All too quickly these memories were from yesterday morning, then last week, then last month.
Through a terse text from San Francisco, I knew his wedding to Rainbow was about to happen… then happening, without another word. After waiting all those years to rediscover Lorenzo, I had no defense. My heart was broken.
Purely out of habit, I threw myself into studying. Here in Italy, my project involved Lorenzo’s native region of Piemonte: its language, literature and wines. So all that I was learning thrilled me at first, then left a bitter taste at the end. Just as every time I thought I glimpsed a familiar figure in the street, afterward I died a little more when I realized this was not Lorenzo’s lithe, tanned body, his tousled brown hair, his bright, golden eyes.
Months later, one afternoon I spotted someone across a restaurant with Lorenzo’s grace and such a similar white shirt that I gasped aloud — then had to cover it up when I realized this man was blonder, larger, and in fact altogether different from Lorenzo.
Was it the familiar soft, white shirt that got me to say yes to the man’s offer of an introductory drink? I almost turned and ran when I saw the waiter pouring glasses of chilled Moscato d’Asti. But I picked up the glass, swirled the bubbles, inhaled, then sipped. The well-known florals, honeys, and fruits of the wine infused my senses and I suddenly came back to earth, as if waking from a dream, a vision that had been both wonderful and terrible.
That was how I met Dan.