by A. L. Singer
“I know an old Italian restaurant not too far from here,” Sorin said.
He rolled onto his side, wrapping his arms around me and gathering my body to his. He did this with an ease that made me feel like he had taken me in his arms a thousand times before. I felt my face warm, but once I accepted his forward gesture, I relaxed. I closed my eyes and allowed my body to mold to his. I lay wondering what the next day would bring. Sorin moved me closer to him, in a full spooning position. It felt wonderful lying next to him, even if there was a comforter between us. He kissed the back of my head. “What are you thinking of, Mia?”
It was becoming increasingly effortless to answer anything he asked. “Just wondering what the future will bring.” I paused. “Actually, I’m feeling a little nervous about dinner tomorrow night.”
Sorin gave me a light squeeze and asked, “What are you nervous about?”
I thought about it for a minute. “I haven’t left the house in several days now, Sorin. Haven’t talked to anyone face-to-face other than you. A part of me wants to just continue this way for a while longer.” It was saddening to say, but true.
I eventually fell asleep. No dreams greeted me.
For the second time, Sorin was waking me prematurely. “Mia, a delivery truck is outside. …Wake up.” As he said it, the doorbell rang. I blinked a few times and pulled the sheet away from me. I stood and started to stumble to the door. “Mia, just sign for the package and bring it upstairs.”
I stopped and looked at him “Package?” I asked, confused.
The doorbell chimed again, and Sorin lightly smiled. “Mia, answer the door … sign for the package … bring it upstairs so that I can watch you open it.” He motioned me to the door. I realized it was the order he had placed from Monique.
I opened my bedroom door just wide enough to walk through, stepped into the hallway, and hurried down the stairs. I cracked the front door, causing the sunlight to spill in. I shielded my eyes while accepting the clipboard handed to me. I signed it, and the woman handed me two boxes. We exchanged thank yous, and I closed the door.
Yawning, I started back up the steps. I stopped halfway and sat down in the middle of the staircase. Sorin had assumed there would only be one box. I set both boxes on the step beside me and took a closer look at them. Both were medium in size and had “fragile” stamped all over them. I lifted the first box; it felt so light, almost empty. I shook it and could hear a light crinkle, like tissue paper. I switched boxes. The second was much heavier, but no movement or sound when I tilted it.
Sorin cleared his throat loudly, and I jumped. “I’m coming!” I called up the stairs, embarrassed that he’d caught me trying to guess what the gifts were. I scooped up the boxes and returned to my room. I slipped back inside, closing the door behind me. I climbed onto the foot of the bed, next to Sorin. “Can I open them?” I asked, placing the light one on my lap first.
He scowled and sat up, his eyes examining both boxes critically. “Let me see the packages, Mia.” He leaned forward and stretched out a hand. I refused to just hand them over. I could tell he was displeased about something.
“You ordered them for me … didn’t you?” I held the box close to myself.
His eyes drifted from the box in my hands to the box on the bed next to me. Eventually his eyes locked onto mine, and he spoke in the voice that made the world melt away. “Please hand me the packages … just for a minute.” His voice was low and invading.
As usual my head lightened, and my surroundings became fuzzy. I couldn’t refuse anything he asked of me when his voice touched me like this. I kept the light box on my lap and pushed the heavier one to his side. He picked it up, looking at it intently and tilting it sideways. I watched him listen closely and saw his nostrils flair. His face relaxed, and he passed the package back to me. He held his hand out for the box I protectively held. “Trade me.” His voice flowed. I reluctantly handed over the box, and as soon as I did, irritation came over Sorin’s face. He didn’t smell the second package. I assumed he knew what it was simply from the weight. He brushed the comforter aside and walked from the bed to my closet.
“What are you doing?” I demanded, upset. He ignored me, putting the box on a shelf and shutting the door. “Sorin?” I said a little louder. He sat back on the bed and looked at me. “I did not … request the contents of that box for you.” I could hear him choosing his words carefully.
I sat for a minute, trying to decode everything. “So you know what is in that box?” I asked, pointing to the closet.
His lips pressed together, not wanting to answer. “Yes,” he forced out.
Silence filled the air for a minute, and a hint of bitterness registered in my mouth. “How could you know what is in a closed box … that you say you did not order? Explain the bitter taste.” I thought I should make it clear I wasn’t going to lose interest so easily. “I do not know exactly what is in the package I put on your shelf. … But I know Monique, and I can guess what she sent. Monique loves to live vicariously through others. She is an amazingly talented woman … and the oldest vampire I know personally. But she injects herself into others’ lives any chance she gets.” His tone was irritated, and I could see he was a little uncomfortable.
I recalled how he looked while talking to her. “Is Monique … a love interest?” I couldn’t help but wonder.
His face twisted, appalled at the thought. “Certainly not.” he said. “An old friend that has a habit of overstepping.”
Happy with the answer, I returned to the gift in question. “Is it something for me? … I mean, are the contents intended for me?” The box had felt almost empty, and his willingness to just say what it was only fueled my curiosity.
His face transitioned from irritated to simply defeated as he rested his head against the wall behind him. “Mia … the item, or items, in that box would be for you, yes. But I did not request any of it, nor do I feel it should have been sent to you without my approval. Please trust me. Promise me you will not open the box.” I wasn’t sure if it was in response to my expression, but after a moment, he added, “I am not saying you can never open it … just not right now.”
His voice was firm, but it was obvious that whatever was in the box would upset me. Or somehow put more stress on Sorin’s and my relationship. I knew I couldn’t possibly persuade him to change his mind. He was only thinking of me and protecting me somehow. I looked to the closet, wondering what would upset me so much. Or maybe whatever it was would scare me, douse any hope Sorin had of my turning my back on my current life.
“Mia, just open the other package, please.” He sounded disappointed. I quickly forced a smile and reached for the box, not wanting to hurt his feelings. I ran my thumbnail through the tape and carefully opened the box. I slowly moved the layer of tissue paper from the top and then edges. Carefully I opened the first ball of bubble wrap and held a beautiful crystal jar in my hand. “Open it,” Sorin chuckled. The container alone was so beautiful, with intricate etchings. I didn’t focus on the contents, which looked like crystals or salts. I removed the lid and pure orange scent flowed out. I inhaled deeply and closed my eyes. It wasn’t diluted by vanilla or any other under note.
I opened my eyes and offered a real smile. “This is unbelievable.” I closed the jar and placed it on the bed. I opened the next ball of bubble wrap. This one had a narrow body and a delicate blown-glass stopper dipped into what looked like oil inside the bottle. I put a drop on my wrist and smelled it; my smile deepened. “Orange blossoms and honey.” I sighed.
“Last one?” Sorin said nodding to the box. I unwrapped the third item, another bottle with scented oil in it. I opened it and inhaled, expecting another citrus scent. But it was strong and floral, quite unexpected. I quickly lowered the bottle and rubbed my nose. I looked up at Sorin and tried to explain. “I-I thought it would be another … citrus scent,” I stammered. “I like it … really. I just wasn’t expecting. …” I took another sniff. “Honeysuckle?” I asked, not sure if I wa
s correct.
Sorin’s eyes narrowed as he peered at the bottle. His nostrils twitched, and he shook his head “No … not honeysuckle. I would presume it is from a flower Monique created.” His tone was serious.
“I figured she was a perfumer, not a botanist.” I was pretty impressed.
“Both, actually … Monique gets bored every three or four decades, and so she develops new interests. Not only in her professional life but private also.”
I was fully impressed until I caught the possibility of his age. I discarded all the bubble wrap and placed just the bottles of oil inside the box, keeping the jar on the bed. “So how many … professions have you known Monique for?” I asked apprehensively.
His eyes studied me, circled my body. I instantly knew what he was doing. “Does age influence your opinion of me?” His eyes circled me again. I thought about it, wondering how many centuries he had really lived. I decided not to dwell on how old he might or might not be.
I raised an eyebrow and challenged him. “You tell me.”
Sorin titled his head a little and finally smiled after a minute. “It could be wishful thinking … but no.”
I crossed to my dresser and set the box down. I determined that if Sorin was going to make me leave the house tonight, I might as well run a few errands before dinner. I pulled some clothes out of my dresser.
“Mia, what are you doing?” Sorin asked, morose.
I held my clothes and the crystal jar of salts. “I am going to enjoy my gift, and then run a few errands.”
The end of my explanation saddened him, and my stomach felt a few butterflies. “How long do you think you will be gone?” he asked. His eyes caught the candlelight just right, taking on that beautiful silver-blue cast. It caught me offguard; he sounded like he was going to miss me as I ran a few simple errands. It was one of the recurring moments that reminded me how complicated the past week had been.
I turned to the bathroom, and over my shoulder quietly said, “Not long.” I filled the tub with water and sprinkled just a few of the crystal-like salts into the water. Pure orange scent filled the bathroom, and I started to undress. After I removed my shirt I realized the door was still ajar. I covered myself and stepped toward the door. I lightly moved it to a few-inch gap. Backing away from the door, I returned to the rug in front of the tub. I resumed undressing slowly, focusing on the bathroom door. I knew I had been far enough away from the doorway that Sorin had not seen me. When I closed the bathroom door I could only see to the foot of the bed. But the fact that I undressed without a passing thought to Sorin being only yards away distressed me. Maybe subconsciously I knew he would keep his distance. Maybe a part of me wanted to be seen by him. I slipped into the tub, feeling a touch of frustration over it all.
Candlelight spilled in from the bedroom because the bathroom door was slightly open. I lay my head back and closed my eyes, trying to relax. The citrus fragrance filled the air, and I realized I had yet to thank Sorin. “Thank you … I love the gifts,” I whispered, knowing he would hear me fine.
“I am pleased you like them.” His voice just reached the doorway from the bed.
My eyes burned from lack of sleep and I took a few minutes to plan my day. I wanted to find some heavy drapes, pick up fresh groceries, and maybe stop by the coffee shop to see the mama bears, show them I was surviving. The final stop would be determined at the last minute. I thought about what I could wear later that night, taking a mental inventory of the clothes in my closet. I remembered a deep-wine-colored dress with spaghetti straps. I had not worn it since Christmas, and I worried it might be a little loose. My hand slid under the water, and I rested it on my stomach. I felt mildly disgusted with myself as I continued slowly feeling different parts of my body, using both hands. My ribs felt far more predominant than usual. My hips had fewer curves to them. This wasn’t my body, and I let out a sound of utter disgust with myself. I stood up, triggering the drain with my foot before stepping out. I dried off and dressed in a hurry. I flung the bathroom door open and crossed to my closet for a pair of sandals.
Sorin quickly sat up in bed. “What is wrong?” Concern laced his words. I didn’t bother to look at him. I shoved my feet into my sandals and started for the door. The usual blur happened before my eyes, and suddenly Sorin stood before the door, blocking my exit. “Something is troubling you, Mia … please tell me what it is.” His fingers gently lifted my face to meet his.
I sighed. A white lie was pointless. “I am having body-image issues. I’m not the first woman to be unhappy with her body, and I won’t be the last. It’s not the end of the world.” I said it with great exasperation. “I’m fine, Sorin, really.” I brushed his hand away. “I just need to force myself to start eating better.” I put my hands on my hips and nodded to the bed. He reluctantly moved aside, and I stepped out of the room.
I went downstairs, emptied the kitchen trash can from the night before, and then dragged it to the refrigerator. It was going to be a new day, a fresh start—as much as I could make it one. I opened the door and threw away the little bit left in the fridge. Every last condiment and even the box of baking soda were discarded. I then did the same to the freezer. Everything had most likely been purchased by mother and touched by my parents. I sprayed and washed it out, then took out a second bag of trash.
I returned to the kitchen briefly for my purse and sunglasses, and then I headed out.
Chapter 16
I took my time at the department store, trying to find the thickest, darkest curtains to serve their purpose. The grocery store proved a more difficult chore, as nothing appeared appetizing. In the end, I left with only a few bags, containing fruit, vegetables, milk, and some bread and pastries from the bakery. By then, it was later than expected, and I put off going to the coffee shop. Once home, I put the groceries in the fridge, along with a new box of baking soda. I nibbled on a croissant, ate a banana, and forced myself to drink a whole glass of milk. I dragged a step stool from the laundry room and then realized Sorin must be hearing all the commotion from upstairs. I considered going to him, but the thought of crawling back into bed for a few hours of sleep was too tempting.
One by a one, I took down whatever delicate sheer curtain hung on each window and replaced it with that day’s purchase. By the time I was struggling with the last window on the first floor, it was approaching early evening. Each time, I tried to cover the window completely, even nailing the edges of the curtains to the wooden frame around it. Most of the windows had only a small amount of light visible from the top of the window frame. I stood in the foyer and inspected my efforts of the day, wondering if the new curtains would be sufficient. I rested my hands on my hips and yawned. I looked to my left, then to my right, eyeing each window critically. Realizing which windows would get direct sunlight, I concentrated on what to do about it. Fatigue started to set in, dulling my focus. I had done more physical activity in one day than I had in the past week.
Closing my eyes, I pictured Sorin upstairs in my bed. I thought I was imagining it at first. His hands, unhurried, slid through my arms and gently squeezed just above my hips. Without thinking a soft moan escaped my lips, and I leaned back against his body behind me. My arms lost their tension and fell at my sides. He felt so good against me. I sighed. “You have been busy.” His voice was silken. “Mmm …” was all I could manage. “Did you do this for me, Mia?” His voice caressed my skin. My knees suddenly felt weak, and I nodded my answer. His hands lowered to my hips, squeezing them. Immediately my knees gave out below me, and I felt myself start to slip away from Sorin’s body. I felt dizzy and wonderfully relaxed. I heard the chuckle as he scooped me up in his arms.
“To bed with you, Mia,” he affectionately ordered. I turned in his arms, feeling the force of his body sweep us both up the stairs. I thought of the curtains and intended on asking if they were blocking out enough sunlight. But all that came out was, “Good?” My voice sounded so feeble.
Another chuckle escaped him, and he kissed my
temple. “Very good,” he whispered. We passed through my doorway. Sorin left the door open, carefully placing me on my side of bed and lifting the sheet over my body. I gave in to the need for a few hours of sleep, happily sinking into my bed. My pockets were full of miscellaneous items from the day’s shopping that I should have returned to my purse. I gave a light whine and lowered my hand under the sheet to undo my jeans. But my fingers wouldn’t obey, and I was slowly drifting farther into darkness.
Sorin’s hand followed mine and gently undid the snap and lowered the zipper. He brought my hand out from under the sheet and laid it on top. I felt him at the foot of the bed, uncovering my feet. Sorin removed my sandals and let them fall to the floor. He tugged at the bottom of my jeans, and I lifted my hips briefly so my pants would lower without much effort. My eyes fluttered open, and he was neatly folding my jeans and laying them on the corner of my dresser. I rolled to the middle of the bed and waited for him to join me. He pulled the comforter over himself and moved to my side. I placed my arm over him and drifted into a deep sleep.
In my dream, I walked along the beach at midday. I could smell the salt air and feel the sun against my skin. The waves were lapping at my feet when I heard Sorin say my name. I opened my eyes and blinked a few times. Staring at the ceiling, I asked, “How determined are you about taking me out to dinner?” Lying in bed was still the most comfortable place for me.
“One day at a time,” he reminded me.
I sat up in bed and turned toward him. “I left the house today, didn’t I? … Bought groceries and spoke to someone other than you.”
His eyes brightened as I finished. “You visited Jennifer?” he asked, hopeful.
I looked over his shoulder. “I was referring to the cashiers at the stores.” I frowned, knowing what he thought of my not reaching out to Jennifer.
He flung back the comforter, got out of bed, and went to the doorway. He turned back and shot me and a not-so-pleasant look. “I expect you ready for dinner in one hour, Mia.” With that, he turned on the bedroom light and headed down the hall to the guest room.