3. Blindsided

Chapter 3

Blindsided

H ugo stood with his back to the warm glow coming from Antonio’s Italian Ristorante. Hugo shivered from the chilled night air as he fiddled with his tie one more time before sticking his hands into his black leather jacket pockets. He carefully scanned the town center as a handful of cars drove down the street. People strolled behind Hugo, some entering Antonio’s, while others continued on with their nighttime activities. Hugo inched closer to the curb to avoid anyone bumping into him, or having to talk to anyone who recognized him.

Ornate streetlamps lined the town center. Dark green and intricately carved to look like vines crawling up the posts toward two lamps, a mixture of glass and elegant twisted metal. The lights flickered inside to give the impression of old Victorian streetlamps from which they took their inspiration. Wreathes of orange, yellow, and brown leaves decorated each lamp to celebrate fall. Hugo leaned against the closest streetlamp and glanced up to the giant banner stretching across the street promoting the “Newbury Grove Fall Festival.” He checked his watch and scanned the street again.

Please cancel, Hugo thought as each car passed. A silver sedan slowed down and pulled into a space across the street. Please don’t be her. Please don’t be her. Don’t be her. The car door opened, and he briefly considered running.

The words of Oliver entered his mind, ‘You might enjoy yourself.’ He straightened his posture and removed his hands from his pockets.

A woman with dark hair wearing a black jacket, red blouse, gray pants, and black ankle strap pumps hurried across the street. She noticed Hugo waiting, gave a smile, and waved.

Damn it , Hugo thought before giving a forced smile and nodding. He extended his right hand and greeted her. “Sarah? Nice to meet you. I’m Hugo.”

“Nice to meet you,” she replied as she shook his hand.

Hugo led her toward Antonio’s.

“I haven’t been here in years.”

“This is the best restaurant in all of Newbury Grove. As a matter of fact, it might be the only restaurant in Newbury Grove,” Hugo joked as he opened and held the wood door. “After you.”

“A gentleman,” Sarah complimented as she stepped through the doorway. “I like that.”

“Well, I try to be. Most of the time.” Hugo entered the restaurant after her.

Antonio’s Italian Ristorante was intimate. Round tables filled the black and white checkerboard tiled floors. Tables for two were up front, while larger tables and booths were in the back. The staff meticulously decorated each table with white linen sheets, glassware, silverware, and a glass tea light candle holder of either red, white, or green.

Dim lighting attempted to hide the other patrons to create a sense of intimacy for the diners. Soft music from crooners muffled the conversations of patrons at the tables. Aromas of recipes brought from old world Italy permeated through the restaurant.

They approached a host standing behind his podium. “Reservation for two under Dodds,” Hugo said.

The host checked his schedule and map of the restaurant tables, then made eye contact with Hugo. “Right this way, Mr. Dodds. We saved your usual table.”

Hugo peered over at the front corner. The empty table for two sat prepared and waiting. Hugo’s breathing increased. He clenched his left fist.

“Umm, not tonight. Do you have something with more”—Hugo struggled to find the right words—“umm… privacy.”

“Absolutely,” the host said, as he grabbed two menus. “Right this way.”

“More privacy, huh?” Sarah smiled.

“Well, I thought it’s best to stay away from prying eyes,” Hugo said.

The host guided them to a table for four near the back. He placed two menus next to each other and said, “enjoy” before returning to his podium. Hugo pulled out the chair facing the front of the restaurant for Sarah, but she pulled out the other for herself. A brief thought of moving entered Hugo’s mind, but he didn’t want to appear rude. He removed his jacket and hung it on the back of the wood chair before taking his seat.

“What do you recommend?”

“Well, you can’t go wrong with any of the homemade pastas. The meatballs are world famous,” Hugo replied.

A waitress approached the table. “Welcome to Antonio’s,” she said, addressing Sarah more than Hugo. “My name is Amanda, and I’ll be your waitress tonight. Can I start you off with some drinks?”

“I’d like to see a wine menu,” Sarah replied.

Amanda flipped the menu over to the back. “Our wine selection is very extensive.”

Sarah scanned the list. “Wow, so much to choose from. What do you recommend, Hugo?”

“Well, umm, I usually get one of the blends.”

“I’ll take that,” Sarah answered.

“Perfect. Two regulars?” Amanda asked Hugo, holding up two fingers.

“Uh, just make it one. I’ll take a water,” he quickly replied.

“I’ll be right back,” Amanda said and moved toward the kitchen.

“So, you’re on a regular drink basis with the staff?” Sarah chuckled.

“I may have visited here more than once.”

“I love the intimate feel of the place,” Sarah said as she scrutinized the restaurant. “It’s nice and cozy.”

Amanda returned holding a tray. She placed the glass of wine in front of Sarah, a wine goblet full of water in front of Hugo, and a basket of complimentary breadsticks in between them. “Have you decided what you want?”

“I’m still deciding.” Sarah glanced back at the menu. “You go first.”

“The usual for me,” Hugo said.

“That sounds good. I’ll take that,” Sarah quickly chimed in.

“You don’t even know what my usual is.”

“I’m sure it’s perfect,” she replied.

“Two usuals,” Amanda said before leaving.

“Carol talked highly of you,” Sarah said.

“She tends to exaggerate. Hopefully, she didn’t spill all of my secrets.”

“She didn’t say that much. Where would the fun be in that?”

“Yep. Fun,” Hugo said with a chuckle and a hint of sarcasm. “Since you know a little about me, what about you?”

“I’m recently divorced, but we’ve been separated for a while.”

“I’m sorry,” Hugo responded.

“Don’t be. It probably lasted a few years longer than it should have. It was amicable. We had no kids. No pets. So other than a few years of stress, it was for the best.”

Hugo offered Sarah a breadstick before taking one for himself. He then unfurled the napkin from the silverware and placed it on his lap. He bit off a piece of the breadstick and reached for the glass of water with his left hand. Sarah’s eyes locked onto his wedding ring as he gripped the glass .

“I thought Carol said you weren’t married?”

“I was married,” he replied.

“Divorced?”

“Widower.”

“I’m so, so sorry,” she pleaded. “I didn’t know. Carol didn’t mention anything.”

“Don’t worry about it.”

“How are you doing? It must be hard on you.”

“I’m fine. Just fine.”

“So, why do you still wear the ring? It gives off the wrong impression if you’re looking to meet someone.”

Hugo took another sip of water and placed the glass behind his plate, stalling to find the right words. He cupped his right hand around his left. He held the ring between his index finger and thumb, rotating the black onyx band.

“The ring has never left my hand since I put it on,” Hugo replied as he focused on the ring. “I… I can’t bring myself to take it off. We knew each other since we were kids. We went to college together. If I take it off, then that means it’s over.”

“I can’t even begin to imagine what you’re going through.”

Hugo glared at the empty table in the corner at the front of the restaurant. “No one does.”

“Do you have any kids?”

“Just a dog.”

“I don’t even want to think about what it would be like if you had kids involved,” Sarah said, trying to reassure Hugo.

Hugo’s eyes fixated on their usual table. The dim lighting attempted to obscure it, but his eyes found it. He fought against the vision. Each moment he fixated on the table drew out the ghosts of the second worst night of his life.

“I was thinking we could try again, since it’s been six months since your last treatment.” Hugo smiled at Elizabeth. “Wouldn’t it be nice to finally have a little Max or Maxine running around the house?”

Elizabeth gave Hugo a half smile before concentrating on her plate. The hair from her auburn wig fell in front of her face to shield her from his gaze. She pushed the fist-sized meatball and spaghetti noodles around her plate. His smile slowly receded into terror. His face turned pale. He extended his arms across the table and placed his hands over hers.

“Is everything okay? Did I say something wrong?”

Elizabeth placed the fork down and brushed the frizzy hair back behind her ears. She slowly raised her head and locked eyes with Hugo. Her eyes watered. The white of her eyes turned a pinkish red color. A single tear escaped and left a trail down her face. “I wasn’t going to say anything until later.”

“Oh, God,” Hugo blurted out as he fell back in his chair. His heart skipped a beat. He forced himself to take a breath as his throat tightened.

“I wanted one more meal,” Elizabeth explained, “where it felt normal.”

“No. No. No,” Hugo pleaded.

“I wasn’t feeling well, so I called the doctor—”

Hugo shook his head in disbelief.

“They—” her voice trailed off as she failed to find the next words.

Hugo leapt from his chair. The chair rocked and fell over. She buried her head into his chest as Hugo wrapped his arms around her. Hugo squeezed her tightly, trying to let her know it would be okay. He loosened his hold to avoid hurting her. She squeezed his torso as hard as possible, but he didn’t care. He kissed her on the forehead, then rested his forehead against hers.

“It’ll be okay,” Hugo assured her. “It’ll be okay.”

“They want to start again as soon as possible.”

“It’ll be okay. We beat it once before. We can do it again. Together. ”

“I love you, Hugo,” she mustered through the tears.

“I love you too, Elizabeth.”

“Two orders of spaghetti and my world famous meatballs,” a man with a thick Italian accent said from behind Hugo as he placed the plates on the table. “They’re world famous because people in Italy know about ‘em.”

The room spun. Hugo’s head throbbed, and sweat rolled down his back. A hot wave pulsated through his body. His eyes watered, but he wiped them before any tears could flow. It took Hugo a moment to regain his bearings.

“Everything okay?” Sarah asked.

“Fine. I’m fine,” Hugo responded. “It’s just been a long day.”

Antonio was an older gentleman in his late 60s. Short, slightly overweight, and balding on top with longish black and gray hair on the sides and back. The smell of cheap cologne overpowered Hugo’s nose. Antonio always had a smile on his face and wore a nice suit.

He patted Hugo on the back and said, “How you doin’, buddy boy?”

Hugo had been around Antonio long enough to know that’s how he greeted everyone: “How you doin,’” followed by either “buddy boy” or “buddy sis.”

“I’m doing good, Antonio,” Hugo replied.

“I heard you were here with a pretty date, so I thought I’d deliver these personally.” Antonio turned his attention to Hugo’s date. “Antonio Moretti. A pleasure to meet you. Hugo here is the best guy I know, and I know a lot of people.”

“I’m Sarah,” she replied. “Pleased to meet you.”

“Don’t let him fool ya. Hugo Dodds can be quite the scoundrel, if you know what I mean.” Antonio patted him on the back with his thick hands .

“I look forward to getting to know more about Mr. Dodds.” Sarah leaned forward and turned her attention back to Hugo.

Hugo blushed. His eyes lingered on the empty table across the room before looking at the food in front of him.

“I’ll leave you two alone,” Antonio said. “And enjoy some free cannolis, compliments of the house.”

“You don’t have to—” was all Hugo could say before Antonio left the table. “Looks like we get free desert.”

Hugo held the door open as they exited the restaurant. The full moon rose and provided a bluish hue to the clear night sky. Hugo shivered as the air grew colder. It was quieter and less populated through the town center.

“Thank you for a lovely evening,” Sarah said as they headed toward the crosswalk.

“My pleasure,” Hugo responded.

“Where are you parked?”

“Oh, I walked,” he replied. “I live not too far from here. I can escort you to your car.”

They checked both ways before crossing to the other side together.

“A lot of people care about you,” Sarah said.

“I know,” he responded. “I’m really thankful for it.”

They stopped in front of her silver sedan. Sarah withdrew her keys from her purse. She focused on Hugo’s eyes. “You seemed distracted tonight. Everything okay?”

Hugo cringed at the question. He placed his hands in his jacket pocket. “Fine. I’m fine,” he replied.

“Did I say something wrong? I hope I didn’t make you feel uncomfortable.”

“No. No. It’s just that well”—his gaze dropped to the ground, stalling to find the right words—“it’s been a while since I’ve been out with anyone. It’s usually just me and the pup. It was good to get out of the house.”

“Good. I was worried I upset you.”

“You didn’t.”

“It’ll get better. I didn’t realize that until some time after my divorce. It’s hard, but it does get better.”

Hugo tilted his head up at her and gave a half smile. “Thanks.”

“Do you want a ride home?”

“That’s okay. It’s not far. I enjoy the chilly night air, anyway.”

“Take care of yourself, Hugo.”

“You too.” He turned around and strolled down the sidewalk as the headlights of her car illuminated.