Sociopath's Obsession(24)

Dominic stood, flipping something on the stove with a spatula as his other hand grabbed a glass of wine nearby and poured it on the dish, which immediately sizzled and created a little steam. The air was filled with the smells of garlic, tomato sauce, and grilled chicken.

“Smells really good.” He glanced at me over his shoulder and winked.

“Penne Arrabiata with chicken. Should be ready in five.” A man who could cook, seriously? It was a wonder Dominic was still single and no woman had snatched him for herself.

I hopped on the bar stool and, oddly enough, found the whole image in front of me relaxing. Finally, he shut off the gas, placed the meat on the pasta, and put it in front of me. Then he picked up two glasses of red wine that stood on the counter, ready.

“Thank you.” Grabbing the fork, I took the first bite and closed my eyes in pleasure. Italian food, in my opinion, was the best in the world. “It’s really good.” The wine was too sour for my taste, but it calmed my nerves.

“Mom’s recipe.” His words made me pause with my fork halfway to my mouth, and I wondered if he would continue. Hoped, even. “She used to make it for us when we were upset or down. We loved it so much that Damian and I eventually learned how to prepare it. Sort of stuck with us, I guess.” He shrugged, but the pain in his voice was hard to miss.

“That’s sweet.” I chewed a bit more, and then whispered, “My mom never cooked in her life. I think she found it beneath her.” No matter how much I tried, it was hard not to be bitter. Deciding not to dwell on it much, I finished my food and shifted my focus to the huge piano. “You play?”

Dominic followed my gaze and nodded. “I do. Do you?”

My cheeks heated up. “No, I wanted to learn, but I guess it wasn't meant to be. But I’d love to hear something though.” He put the dishes in the sink, went to the instrument, and opened it. He then sat on the bench, looked at me, and motioned with his finger for me to come closer.

Dazzled, my legs followed and I ended up next to him.

“What do you want me to play for you?”

“You want me to choose?”

“Yes.”

“Anything. I just love the sound of it.” He stayed silent for several seconds then cleared his throat and slowly started to play the melody, which I recognized instantly.

“The Way We Were” by Marvin Hamlisch.

Dominic’s eyes were closed, like in a trance, as he gave everything to the music. The sense of sadness and longing overpowered me, and the only thing I wanted to do was hug him and make it all better.



Dominic

October, Harrison residence, 1995



“Mama, again!”

My mother was so beautiful. She was laughing and hugging us as we played the piano. It was cold, really windy, and rainy, so there wasn't much to do outside. Mama came up with the idea of pasta and music night. Daddy was at work and was supposed to be back any minute now.

“Dominic, that’s enough, don’t you think? We’ve already played five songs. Aren’t you boys tired?” We shook our heads and she laughed again. That was the thing about Mommy; she always smiled, was kind, and smelled like cookies. And she was always there when we needed her.

“The piano, Mommy!” Both of us begged, because it was our favorite. Usually, Daddy was home by that time, and we would sit on his lap and watch Mama play. Since tonight it was only us, she made us scoot aside as she sat between us and motioned with her finger for us to be quiet.

Then she played.

Damian and I swayed to the music as we listened, and watched her fingers move quickly and effortlessly on the keyboard. We heard the door open, and Dad came in, greeting us with a smile. He quietly put his briefcase on the kitchen counter, came behind Mama, and kissed her softly on the neck, which earned him a smile from her. Then he patted us on the head and closed his eyes, allowing himself to relax and enjoy the music.

Damian and I slowly dozed off to the music as we always did, and then both Mom and Dad carried us to our beds and kissed us goodnight.

We slept tight.

Then the next morning, life as we knew it was over.

We ended up in a constant nightmare that lasted eight long years.



I opened my eyes on the last cord of music and shook my memories off. It was constantly like that. The minute I played something that reminded me of my parents, everything felt like shit, and it always came back to that last night all those years ago.

Sapphire was sound asleep on my shoulder, her breath even, and she looked so damn innocent. She made my heart clench. I closed the piano slowly then shifted and picked her up. She mumbled something in her sleep, but said nothing. Laying her down on the bed made her bathrobe disclose every secret her clothes could hide from me. I gulped because she was the most beautiful woman I’d ever seen, but I covered her up quickly. Leaving her side and making sure the nightstand lamp was on, I closed the door and went to my room.