by A. L. Singer
I opened the patio doors and stepped outside. The air was cooler than expected, still heavy from the rain yesterday and last night. I left the screen open so some warmer air could fill the house. There were puddles of water on the outdoor furniture. I tilted one of the chairs, letting the water run off it. Watching the sky change, I eventually saw the colors fade. Everything turned dark. Sounds greeted me. Children playing a few houses away. A dog barked, and eventually the music of crickets started filling the air. The last rays of scant light disappeared behind the trees, and a mosquito buzzed near my ear. I waved it away and decided to go inside. I slid the door shut behind me, locking it.
As I walked in through one side of the kitchen Sorin entered the other. He stopped and looked at me, and his brow wrinkled. I couldn’t hear exactly what he said from across the room, but I made out some of the words. Something about my “color being worse” or maybe it was, “Could her color be worse?”
I took a few steps forward, feeling defensive folding my arms across my chest as he walked up to me. “I’m sorry. I didn’t hear that clearly.” I sounded obviously unimpressed.
“I said that is a flattering color on you. You look rested,” he offered, but I knew he was lying.
My mouth filled with saliva again, and there was a bitter taste. I went to get a glass of water, taking two glasses out of the cupboard. I pressed them into the refrigerator door and let a few ice cubes fall in each. The stool moved, and Sorin sat down. I took two bottles of water from the counter and placed them between us. “How did you sleep?” I asked wondering, why he was so late waking up.
“The bed was wonderful,” he stated.
I pushed the glass of ice cubes and one of the water bottles closer to him. I opened the other bottle and poured some water over the ice. “I can make you something to eat. You must be starving.” I motioned to the fridge.
The corner of his mouth turned in that odd way I had noticed last time we talked. “I stepped out while you were sleeping, so I have already eaten. But thank you for the offer.” His voice trailed off.
The bitter taste grew, and I drank half my glass of water. Lemon would help me get rid of the taste in my mouth. “Would you like some lemon for your water?” I asked, nodded toward his glass. Taking a lemon from the counter’s fruit bowl, I put it on top of a cutting board I removed from a drawer.
“How did you sleep, Mia?” His voice was soft and caring. I took a knife from the wooden block in front of me and cut off the ends the ends of the lemon. I paused, thinking. Sleep. Well, sleeping is easy. … Waking up and living every day is another story. “As well as expected, I suppose,” I said flatly, cutting the lemon into thin slices. The citrus scent tickled my nose.
Sorin had more questions for me. “Why are you staying down here in the guest room?” He sounded curious. I halted the knife again. Because I can’t bring myself to go upstairs, I thought, picturing my room, the wine-colored walls plastered with photos of my parents and me. Twenty-three years of memories stored in one room. Each picture ran through my head. My mother and I at a spa day, green seaweed masks and cucumber over our eyes. She had slipped her camera to one of the aestheticians. My parents and I at my high school graduation; I was between them, wearing my purple cap and gown. The three of us at a beach in Daytona two summers ago, the sun setting behind us. …
I looked down at the knife in my hand. I let go of the lemon and turned my left hand palm up. My eyes studied my wrist, the bruises from the day before had faded some. I made a fist and saw a vein rise. I looked back at the knife, tracing the blade with my eyes. “Sorin, you are not a doctor, correct?” It came out just above a whisper.
“No.” His voice growled, and I jumped a little. I blinked and finished cutting the last part of the lemon. He had saved my mother years ago. But she had wanted to live; I didn’t. “Mia … some lemon, please!” His voice boomed, and I dropped the knife and spun around. Sorin sat, rubbing his temples and glaring at me. I reached back and picked up a few lemon slices. I gently slid two into my glass, shooting him a foul look as I plopped the other two in his glass. They made a small splash.
“You don’t have to yell,” I retorted.
He relaxed and glanced back at the dining room doorway. “Come join me in the other room, and we will sit and talk.” His voice could just flow through me at times. It was starting to irritate me. He stood up and came around the counter. I turned toward him on my stool, waiting to see what he was doing. I thought he was going to the refrigerator for some food after all. But he passed it and walked right up to me. He stopped just a foot away.
Sorin’s gaze passed over me, and he raised a hand to my face. His fingers traced my jaw, stopping at my chin. I could smell that wonderful scent of sandalwood and something else so familiar. My head started feeling light. This was definitely irritating. I wasn’t a young schoolgirl anymore. Even in school I was not affected so easily when a boy showed some attention. His fingers curled under my chin, and he lifted my face up to his. He whispered my name, and I blinked a few times, trying to clear my head. But his eyes were pale blue pools in front of me, and I was drowning in them. He said my name again, but it barely registered. My eyes grew heavy, and I struggled to keep them open.
I swear he fought a smile before he leaned in. A shiver climbed my spine. “Mia, go sit and relax in the other room. I will bring you some food. You will eat and tell me more about yourself.” His voice purred like before. It made me melt; my brain had become obsolete. Just like last night when he talked to me. I seemed to absentmindedly obey, trying to say “yes or okay. Anything. But my lips wouldn’t move. A pitiful cross between a moan and whimper was all that echoed in my head. I couldn’t really tell if the sound had escaped my lips.
Sorin smiled against my face. I could feel his facial muscles change, and a light chuckle escaped him. “Go on … I will join you before you know it.” He gently turned me and gave me a light push off the stool. I felt sedated, like I was floating, even a little drunk. I couldn’t finish a thought, much less speak; I could hardly walk. I was moving, though—the walls were passing me. First the dining room, and then the foyer as I passed the stairs. I felt like maybe I was in a dream, all fuzzy and warm. I slapped at the light switch as I passed it. The light over the fireplace on the far wall lit up, and I moved on. I continued to the larger of the two couches and sat in the corner facing the kitchen. I swung my legs up and stretched them out in front of me. Grabbing a blanket off the back of the couch, I laid it across the lower half of my body. I smoothed the blanket, and a moment later the rest of the room illuminated fully.
Sorin’s hand instantly appeared in front of me with a plate of food. My head bobbed to his face and then back to the plate. He put it on my lap, sat in the opposite corner, and rested his arm on the back of the sofa. His body was turned in my direction, with one leg bent and resting near my feet. The other leg hung over the side. Sorin lifted his left hand and pressed his fist against his temple. He just sat there, looking relaxed. “Eat, Mia,” he said softly, picking up a cinnamon roll with his free hand. He held it in front of me until I took it from him.
I slowly ate it, tearing it apart. I glanced up at him between bites. Every time I looked up, his eyes were on me. But never the same place. I saw Sorin looking down at my feet peeking out from under the blanket. Another time it was my hands while I was tearing the roll apart. Then his eyes followed the food to my mouth, watching me lick my lips free of the icing. The way he watched me should have caused my heart to race. But I felt calm, like the world didn’t exist at the moment. After the roll was gone, Sorin turned the plate so some grapes and strawberries were in front of me. I picked them up and ate them. After the third or fourth one, my head started to clear. The fog slowly lifted, and I took a few deep breaths. It helped; I no longer felt sedated. So I took a few more deep breaths and blew them out slowly. I looked at Sorin. This time his eyes were locked somewhere between my neck and collarbone. I started to gather my thoughts and looked down at my plate now
half empty. Even though I hadn’t wanted to eat anything. I felt how at ease my body was. The last of the cobwebs lifted from my head.
My true emotions slowly bubbled up inside me. It was déjà vu—exactly like last night. Sorin talked to me in a voice I could feel caress my skin. I even began to feel a part of me crave it. He spoke, and I agreed to whatever he requested. My eyes darted forward, narrowing and settling on him. He instantly lifted his gaze from my neck. I could feel my body begin to tense as I tried to figure out what was happening to me. Sorin’s eyes widened a little, and he lifted his head from where it rested against his hand. I looked at the food and thought for a minute. No, it wasn’t the food. I always became dizzy before I ate, not after. Tonight all I’d had was a glass of water, so it wasn’t strange that I felt light-headed, given how many hours it had been since I’d last eaten. But something still didn’t add up. The more I thought about it, the more my frustration increased.
I looked back at Sorin. His arm fell from the back of the sofa, and his back straightened. “What are you doing to me?” I accused.
He shifted slightly, and his eyes became piercing. The smooth skin between his eyes tensed and wrinkled. His lips pressed tight and he blurted out, “I have no idea to what you are referring, Mia.”
My stomach lurched, and that horrible taste filled my mouth. Bitter, the flavor of something metallic or medicinal. I grabbed my stomach and shrieked. “The hell you don’t! What is this awful taste? … Did you do something to my food?” I was starting to panic. I felt out control.
A combination of concern and surprise washed over his face. Sorin moved toward me.
“No!” I yelled, jerking my knees up to my chest and holding both hands out to stop him. The plate fell from my lap and hit the floor, neither one of us even flinching at the sound.
He moved back to his side and stared at me. I wrapped both my arms around my midsection, laying my head on my knees.
He finally spoke. “Mia, I promise you … I put nothing in your food. Nor in your drink.” His voice was filled with anguish.
I didn’t want to hear it, but it was unmistakable. It wasn’t the thought of him poisoning me that upset me so much. Just last night, a part of me had wished he would murder me as I slept. But the absolute calm he made me feel was unnerving. It was beyond calm; I became numb. I couldn’t do this—feel the worst pain and loss of my life one minute, only to be totally calm and oblivious the next. I felt myself start to slowly rock back and forth. All Sorin had to do was look into my eyes and whisper into my ear, causing me to feel peaceful. I felt the cushion shift near my feet and I screamed no into my knees as I continued to sway my body.
It wasn’t fair that a stranger could affect me like this. Sorin could make me briefly not mind continuing to live without my parents. There were moments that he didn’t feel like a stranger at all; it was as if I had always known him. A small part of me craved how he made me feel, and it made me ache for more. But he would eventually leave, just like everyone else. I would be abandoned yet again. He would leave and take that wonderful feeling of peace with him. I was so angry and frustrated that my eyes stung with tears. I fought them the best I could. He moved closer again, placing his hands on my shoulders, gently squeezing them. My body stilled, and a whimper escaped me. He moved closer, sliding an arm between me and the sofa. Sorin’s other arm slipped under my knees. In a soft fluid movement he brought me to him. Laying my legs across his lap, he pressed my body against his. I couldn’t help but mold to him. Protectively wrapped in his arms, my head rested at the top of his chest.
“Shh, Mia … just breathe. Take a few deep breaths, and it will be better. I promise.” He said it slowly, softly, as he kissed my temple. I knew if I did as he said everything would melt away, and my mood would totally change. His sweater was soft against my face, a few tears absorbed into it. Sorin’s scent filled my nose. His scent, I thought and pulled away from him. I pressed a palm to his chest. I shook my head and kept him at arm’s length. Sorin’s arm fell from around my body, and he rested it just above my knee.
My head was already spinning, and I started to babble, fighting the jumbled mess that filled my head. “No!” I yelled, shoving my hand harder against his chest. “’Cause it’s your scent that does it.” My eyes moved over his body, my hand dropping away. I shook my head and lowered my tone. “No, it’s your voice … that makes me … it makes me fade.” My voice cracked. I felt utterly confused. I looked at his mouth, studied his full pale lips. I closed my eyes and could hear words he had spoken to me earlier and last night. Suddenly I was imagining his eyes, deep ice-blue pools, hypnotizing me. My eyes shot open and collided with his. “Is that it?” I accused in a low tone. “Are you hypnotizing me somehow?”
Sorin just sat there, one hand holding my calf on his lap. The other hand left my back and lay above my knee. His eyes were wild with emotions. He looked hurt, confused. His jaw flexed, and his lips pressed tighter, but he didn’t say a word.
My face felt flushed and my hands became fists in my lap. “Talk!” I finally yelled at him. “Say something! Explain it … don’t deny you are doing something to me.”
Sorin’s shoulders slumped a little, and his eyes fell to my knees. “I am sorry, Mia … truly.” His voice was apologetic, sincere. His eyes left my knees and slowly lifted higher.
I turned my head away. I couldn’t trust myself to look at him. I took a deep breath and tried to pull my emotions in. “Is it drugs?” I demanded.
“No,” he assured me.
I relaxed a little. “Are you hypnotizing me somehow?” I turned my head back toward him but looked down at his hands. His right hand started to slowly massage my calf through the blanket.
“No.” Sorin paused, and his hand stopped for a brief moment. “I am only trying to ease your pain. If only a little … for a short time.” He chose his words carefully, drawing each one out. “It is forgivable, Mia. To let go of the pain in your heart for a moment or two.” And then his voice changed to that soft, seductive tone that I had yet to ignore. “It is natural, Mia … to let go when it becomes too much.” His hand crept up my thigh and covered my hands. I wanted to fight it, but my body betrayed me. My hands fell open and I slumped to my right.
I lay against the back of the couch, my face resting against the top. I closed my eyes. I could feel the frame pressing into my temple. It was uncomfortable, but my head felt too dizzy to move. Sorin slipped his hand between my face and the wooden frame. A cool palm cradled my face. His other hand left my calf and was gently moving the blanket from my lap onto the arm of the couch behind me. He rolled my head onto it with ease. Sorin’s hands slid down my neck and out to my shoulders. Gingerly down my arms to my hands, which he placed in my lap. I felt limp—that same helpless, numb feeling. I screamed at myself in my head. Fight it! my inner voice kept repeating over and over. My head bobbed from side to side, and I fought to open my eyes.
“Sorin …” I breathed. His left hand rested on the spot just above my knee where it had been before. The right began kneading my calf through my jeans. “Sorin … stop … please,” I begged, fluttering my eyes open to look at him. “You’re wrong.” I said. “This isn’t natural. I don’t know you, and you don’t know me. Yet I invited you to stay here. I have moments where I feel I’ve known you my whole life. A part of me craves whatever it is that you do to me. This isn’t me: self-destructive and unable to control my own emotions. I’m not like that at all!” As I raised my voice raised I looked into Sorin’s eyes. “This is not … natural,” I finished. Each word was a little louder, a little more pronounced, than the one before.
Slowly his cheeks lifted, and the corners of his mouth turned up into a smile. Not a big smile with all his teeth showing. But a mouth-closed smile, with his cheeks high and a tiny purse to his lips. Then his eyebrows lifted. Sorin’s eyes brightened, and his face was even more beautiful than it had been when I’d first glimpsed him. He leaned toward me, and my heart skipped a beat. “Mia,” he purred, as my hea
d clouded further. “This is simply you and me.” His eyes danced over my body and returned to meet mine. “This is what you truly want—calm and peace. And you allow me to do this for you. It is natural, the most natural desire on earth.” He sat back and paused. “If you did not want this, if you did not long for a brief moment free of heartache … for me … it would not be.” His shoulders eased and he propped his head on his fist in the same way he had earlier. He looked the most comfortable I had seen him. Like he belonged right here, had nowhere else to be but beside me.
My head swam. “Make it stop. Please make my head stop spinning.” I pleaded in a weak voice that was all I could produce just then.
His smile faded, eyebrows smoothed. “Do you want it to pass? The haze, the warm calm you are currently experiencing?” He looked a little sad as he asked. He knew exactly what I was feeling. It was eerie. My body felt great; every muscle at ease. It was my head that was screaming, fighting. “Yes!” I pleaded and rolled my eyes closed. Sorin lifted my legs and moved farther away, all the way to the opposite side of the couch. The heels of my feet just reached his lap and stayed propped there. His hands gently closed around my naked feet. “Sorin?” I whispered, waiting for my head to magically clear.
“Just relax and take a few deep breaths. … It will pass if you want it to.” His voice was empty, like a stranger giving me directions to a location. But I listened anyway. I kept my eyes closed. Head laid back and arms limp. I took a few deep breaths and paused. A little better, I thought to myself. Slowly his thumbs circled the bottom of my feet. I didn’t mean to let it, but a moan escaped me. It felt great. I didn’t normally wear high heels like I had the previous day. My feet were still tender from standing and walking so much in them. I took a few more deep breaths, and more fog lifted from my head. Sorin’s thumbs continued: small circles over the pads under my toes. Then a smooth circle to my heel and back up. Every few minutes he would squeeze my whole foot and ease his hand to my ankle and back. Sorin continued his silence. I took a few more deep breaths and gently blew them past my lips. Finally my head cleared. Not completely, but enough for me to open my eyes. I lifted my head and looked over at him. Leaving my feet, his eyes met mine. We sat there, just staring at each other. Neither one of us knowing what to do or say. Both of us waited for the other to speak, to say anything. I had so many questions still screaming in the back of my mind. I struggled to choose the most dominant ones. Who was he really? Where was he from? What else had happened between him and my mother? My heart sank a little as I wondered how much longer he would stay here with me. I sighed, wanting to ask him all this, even if I was afraid of the answers that might follow.