My Journey with Farrah - Alana Stewart [24]
The last three days have been a blur. I hurriedly started making plans—plane reservations, ground transportation, the hotel in Frankfurt, and the time to see Dr. Vogl. I begged my part-time housekeeper to come and stay with the dogs while I was gone. But the hardest thing of all was telling my kids I wouldn’t be cooking Thanksgiving dinner. Each of them asked me, “But, Mom, where will we eat Thanksgiving dinner? You always cook.” I felt horribly guilty, but I had to go with Farrah, and I promised them I’d make up for it on Christmas. I really wanted them to understand that it wasn’t about choosing my friend over them. It was about being there for someone who needed me more at this moment; it was a matter of life and death.
Before we left, I felt obligated to show Mimmo around L.A., at least a little, especially since I was ditching him. He really wanted to see the beach, so I drove him out to Malibu. We had a nice lunch at a lovely outdoor restaurant, took a walk on the pier, where he took pictures, and then we drove back. That night we went to my friend Nicollette Sheridan’s birthday party, which her boyfriend, Michael Bolton, was throwing for her in a bowling alley in Hollywood. I wasn’t sure how Mimmo was going to fit into the mix, especially not speaking a word of English, but he was just fine. In fact, all the attractive single women who were there were flirting with him. I hadn’t been at all attracted to him until then, but after a Cosmopolitan, he started to look cuter. Still, when we got back to my house, I kissed him goodnight on the cheek and went to my bedroom.
Last night I had to pack to leave today, so he cooked a great Italian meal for us. After dinner, we sat by the fire, drank a Ramazzotti, and chatted. My Italian was improving, that’s for sure. Up until now, I’d been clearly sending him the signal that I wasn’t interested in anything other than being platonic friends, and he had been very respectful of that. I told him as best as I could in Italian that I needed to get to know him better, that I didn’t know anything about him or how many women he slept with, and that I was very cautious about getting physically involved with anyone, especially these days. God knows it’s been forever since I’ve been in any kind of relationship. He said he had been with one woman for five years, that they had broken up almost a year ago, and that he hadn’t really dated anyone since then. He said he was working all the time and didn’t have the time to date. That was a relief. At least he wasn’t some Italian playboy.
Then the mood gradually shifted. He kissed me softly and I let him, but with little response on my part. He kissed me again. I liked that he wasn’t being pushy about it. And I liked the way he kissed me, so I let him kiss me more. I was definitely attracted to him. One thing led to another, and we ended up making love. It was very nice—a terrible word to describe lovemaking, I guess. But the earth didn’t move, it was just warm and…nice. When it was time to go to bed, I said goodnight and went into my room and he went into his. I wasn’t ready to sleep in the same bed with him; that would have been just too much too soon.
So now I’m on my way to Germany and he’s staying in Los Angeles another week. I like him. I enjoyed his company, and I feel kind of attracted to him. But I don’t know how I’ll feel when I see him again. Right now, there are more important things to deal with.
November 23, 2007
We arrived, dropped our bags off at the hotel, and went straight to Dr. Vogl’s for Farrah’s liver perfusion. It all went smoothly, and after a few hours in the recovery room, we returned to the hotel to spend the night. The driver who had picked us up at the airport told us there was a much better hotel than the “disco” hotel we had stayed at before. It was called the Villa Kennedy and it was very close to the hospital, so we decided to try it.
Impulsively