“Yes.There’s nowhere I need to be, and I thought you could show me what you like, what you enjoy,” he said.
Clarissa stared at him.“You wouldn’t want to do that.”
“Why not?”he asked.
“What I do is boring and...”she faded off, because it was the insult that he’d sent her way.
“And I don’t know anything about it,” Lorenzo said.“I need to learn what you like.You know what I like.I’ve taken you dancing.We’ve enjoyed movies.”
In the early days of their marriage, before he told his friends how he really felt, they did everything he loved.She would get her chance in the sewing room when he was busy with the mafia.She didn’t mind.It had been fun to learn more about him, and she absolutely loved to go to the nightclubs with him.When he would take her.She loved to dance, and although they had done it only once, it had stuck with her.
“You don’t have to do that,” Clarissa said, even more nervous.Sewing was not for everyone, and it did have the reputation of being boring.She loved it.She loved being creative and bringing fabrics to life, and it provided her an escape where she didn’t have to think about everything.
Lorenzo reached out and touched her hand.“I want to do it.”
She saw no point in arguing with him.She reckoned thirty minutes in her sewing room would be enough to send him running for the hills.
****
There was no way Lorenzowas ever going to tell his friends that other than killing people and being a Capo within the Colombo Mafia, he absolutely, one hundred percent, loved sewing.He was in shock.
Clarissa had given him free reign on her sewing machine, and it wasn’t like he’d made a lot, but for the whole afternoon, he learned the sewing machine—the speed of which to use it, and bringing strips of fabric together to create a large rectangle, to which they added some wadding between.He did two sides, and she helped him assemble the border with something called bias tape, which made it look pretty.If his sewing was neat, it would have looked amazing.She did suggest he hand sew, but he wasn’t interested in hand-stitching anything.However, from the looks if what he’d made, it probably would have been a lot better to hand sew.He loved every second of it, and after several hours, he had a quilted rectangle Clarissa said he could use on his desk, to put a mug of coffee on, with a plate of cookies.
She stood close to him as he looked at his work, and he’d removed his jacket and rolled up his sleeves.This had taken all afternoon, mainly because he had to get used to the sewing machine.
“That was incredible,” he said.He saw the smile on her face, and he realized it was the first real, genuine smile she had given him in the short time she had known him.
“You did this?”she asked.
“Hell, yeah, I can see why you rarely want to come out of this place.Show me around,” he said.
She giggled.It was the first time he had ever heard that sound, and it was magical.“You did this room for me.”
“I know, and I didn’t really understand it, and it was with your grandmother’s help.”
“My grandmother?”
He nodded.“Yeah, she wanted me to help you make this work.She said a sewing space for you would help you adjust to married life.”He saw her eyes go watery.“Fuck, that wasn’t supposed to make you sad.”
“Oh, I’m not sad, I’m just, I don’t know.I’m grateful to my grandmother.She was an amazing woman, and it didn’t seem to matter what it was, she always knew what we needed or wanted.She was always on the ball.”
“She was certainly an amazing woman.I am so sorry for your loss.”He reached out and stroked her cheek, and Clarissa didn’t immediately pull away.She also didn’t linger for too long either, and he knew an afternoon of sewing was not going to change that.
Everything faded away, and his only focus was to get the lines right and stay within the seam allowance.This project didn’t have a massive seam allowance, so he had to be careful.
Clarissa took his hand and showed him each machine.The sewing machine, the serger that helped to finish edges.There were other uses for it, but she often used it to finish edges.She showed him her haberdashery items—from scissors, to rotary cutters and threads.There was so much to learn.He listened, not really understanding all of it, but knowing this was part of her world.
His wife had designed and made her own wedding dress.There were some women at the wedding who had looked at it with scorn, but he had loved that wedding dress.It looked stunning, and it had fit Clarissa like a second skin and showed off her body to perfection.
She pointed out her cutting table, along with the many, many, many pieces of fabric in her stash.They ranged from dressmaking to crafting, and even bag-making.It would seem Clarissa was a hoarder of crafting skills.
He loved seeing her eyes as she talked about everything she loved.For a brief moment, he wasn’t the asshole husband who had said nasty shit about her.He was her husband, and she was sharing her love with him, her hobby—the hobby that had gotten her through one of the single most traumatic experiences of her life.
Her grandmother had told him Clarissa was not much of a talker.Before the incident, she used to be.It would drive her parents crazy just how much she talked and how inquisitive she was.After the incident, Clarissa went silent.Even at their wedding, when she was with her friends, Clarissa didn’t contribute much.He wanted to bring out that chatty side of her.He wanted to rid her mind of that fucking nightmare that must have gripped her as a child.
At the sound of her grumbling stomach, he pulled her in close.“Come on, I’ll take you out to lunch.”
He was not about to take no for an answer, and they made their way downstairs, he still holding his project.Before he left, and still holding Clarissa’s hand, he walked into his office and placed it underneath the coaster.It certainly gave his desk as flash of color.