An Affair Abroad

by T. K. Richards

  “I give you my word, we’ll set a date. I’ll have some things moved around tomorrow, then we’ll go from there. Cool?”

  “Anh huh.”

  “I planned something special for us this weekend. Say you’re still coming with me.”

  “Have I ever let you down?”

  “Not once,” he turned my face towards him and kiss my lips. “So this is what it’s like to argue with you huh?”

  I blushed and turned to face him. I placed my arms around him and replied, “That was not an argument. More like a disagreement.”

  “I don’t know you got a little feisty a second ago.”

  “You call that feisty?”

  He grinned, “It kind of turned me on. Do you need help getting the rest of it out of you?”

  “Oh no. I have work to do.”

  “So do I,” he picked me up and carried me to the bed.

  ‘Why can’t I say no to this man.’

  In the morning, I cancelled my flight home and packed for Barcelona. I was curious about these special plans he spoke of. Once again, my feet touched the soil of Spain. Its colored beauty could not be ignored from the sky, but to see the murals and buildings up close were breathtaking. My host knew the ins and outs and kept me on guard for pickpockets, while we roamed the city exploring the streets and museums.

  The next day was an early one, as Mash wanted to show me more of the city before reporting to sound check. We took a brief stroll in the Gothic Quarter. Narrow lanes and eerie architecture eventually led us into a shopping market, with novelty and keepsake items targeted for tourists.

  My eyes locked in on a kiosk selling handmade rings, made from wire and beads. The intertwining of a black and blue band spoke to me, and with permission the attendant allowed me to slip it on my finger. My face expressed I liked the piece before I could verbally say so, and without asking, Mash purchased it. He then asked the artist to take his measurements, and make him one to match mine.

  With an hour to kill before picking up the order, we ate street food, sat and listened to a band, followed a map of the well-known historic churches, then returned to the market.

  The craftsman earned a healthy tip, by crafting matching bracelets with the identical pattern of the rings. I couldn’t stop admiring my matching set. It reminded me of the hand-crafted jewelry sold downtown on the market in Charleston. I stuck my hand out and dangled my wrist side to side, at least a dozen times, fascinated at how the colors moved and shined in the sunlight.

  “You love it that much?” Mash teased.

  “I do. I respect the work of creative people, and I love to support artists. I know it’s only wire and beads, but working with beads requires talent.”

  “You can have my bracelet. One for each arm.”

  “Thank you. I’ll take it.”

  “One more thing. Marry me tomorrow.”

  “Don’t play.”

  “I’m serious. It’s the only reason I wanted the ring.”

  “I thought you just wanted to match mine.”

  “Yes. As husband and wife.”

  “My feisty side didn’t scare you away?”

  “I’ve had this on my mind for a while now. I had this whole thing planned out for when we went home, but I don’t want to wait. Let’s do it here.”

  “Wait. Tell me the worst thing about you.”

  “I’m jealous.”

  “So am I.”

  “I’ve seen enough to know I will weather any storm with you. Say you’ll be my wife. Say you’ll marry me.”

  The concierge in our hotel located a priest to perform the ceremony on the beach. I bought an inexpensive white sundress in the village, and tied white flowers around the thread in the hotel sewing kit. Pinning it into my hair, I walked barefoot on the beach, admiring my soulmate in his white t-shirt and slacks. The wind and the mist blew my straight hair curly, while the sun blessed its light for those spectating to see. Hand in hand, we eloped. No big show. No drama. Just he and I, vowing to love each other forever.

  Chapter Nine

  Mrs.

  I smiled to myself for most of the flight home. Thinking about the way my husband couldn’t have picked a better moment, a better place to ask me to be his wife. My face was flushed, looking down at the stillness of the ocean beneath me. Giggling to myself as I reminisced about our consummation. The flickering candles. The calla lilies thrown all over the floor. The tenderness he displayed the moment I undressed when we returned to the room. The wind against my breast, the second time we made love on the balcony. The beast he became outside slaying me against the glass door.

  We were rabbits before, so I didn’t know what to call us now. Jack rabbits maybe? Whatever the species, we were animalistic with each other. I couldn’t get enough of him. And now, his home was truly my home. Our home. The way that sounded put a bandage on my being homesick for a while. Instead of searching for flights to America, I was scheduling when and where we would honeymoon, researching dual citizenship, and contemplating how to break the news to my mother. To my friends.

  The response from the embassy took days, and the information we needed turned out to be complicated. I had to prove I was living with Mr. Sharper for over a week, then we could apply for a license in 21 days to make our union legal. I would also have to apply for a visa. The only visa I was ever interested in was the kind that swipes.

  My first time travelling out of the states, led me to see parts of the world I never imagined I would visit, and changed my life. I no longer felt I was losing myself. I finally understood I was gaining a partner. The person I had been looking for.

  Mash’s tight schedule allowed us four days to honeymoon. Giving me total control, I chose Italy. It was the only place I could get the perfect wedding gift—The best pizza in the world, and meet my mother-in-law.

  Valeria was stunning. Frail and tanned with strong cheekbones and wavy chestnut brown hair. Mash looked a lot like her. She cried at the sight of him standing in her doorway, speaking her language with what I assumed ended with many emphases after each word. “Vita! Vita!” she shouted.

  Thumping noises came from the top of the house. A cute middle-aged woman peeped around the wall and shouted more words in Italian. I stood patiently by the door, watching the two women pinch Mash’s cheeks and chin and hug him. It was the first time I saw him cry. Which led to me shedding a few tears.

  Shortly, they settled down and he reached for my hand. I joined him at his side as he introduced me as his wife. Valeria held her face then held mine. “Bambino,” she said. My eyes widened and I responded, “No bambino, no bambino.” ‘Hell no I’m not ready for that. Should I be offended?’ I thought shaking my head side to side.

  Vita then stood next to her and eyed me from head to toe. My heart pounded literally being in Valeria’s hands. The two spoke Italian to each other briefly, and I looked over to Mash for help. He placed his arm around me and joined their conversation, then Valeria sweetly said, “Figlia.” She and Vita hugged me, gave me an extra once over, then pulled me by my arms to the sofa. I didn’t understand a word the three of them were saying, but I picked up on telefono when Vita started making phone calls.

  Within the hour, the house was packed with cousins and uncles from all over Vomero. The news Maximus was home travelled quickly, and the news he married a cocoa colored American surprisingly went better than I expected. His family showed me love and made me feel welcome, speaking in very little English and forcing me to eat. Our union received the warmest reception as his family blasted music and cooked food way into the night.

  The former Mrs. Sharper wouldn’t allow us to stay in the hotel we reserved. She forced us to stay with her in Mash’s old room, with the thin walls, full size bed and loose headboard. We laughed most of the night, trying to sneak in a quick one, eventually giving up and dozing off.

  By morning the house was already filled with family. Some who spent the night because it was a special occasion
, and others who wanted to get a jump on the festivities. It was a repeat of the previous day. Family all around. Music blasting. People dancing. Matriarchs cooking. Children running. Everyone singing.

  Before the sun set in the evening, my new cousins drove us around the never-ending hills to a spot overlooking the city, and Mount Vesuvius in the distance. The buildings looked like they were stacked on top of one another, but the sight was one to behold.

  Cousin Primo convinced us to check out a sports bar where he bragged to any and every one, his cousin was famous. I put on a brave face as I watched everyone, except me go berserk when a team scored a point in the soccer match on the television. The place rocked with stomping and cheering, celebrations and beer splashing, from the tall glasses being thrown around.

  The family kept the same energy when we returned to the house with more food, music still blasting, and more blankets laid out for the night. Seeing Mash around his family was an image I would always remember. He came from beautiful, loving people who instilled their values in him somehow from a distance. It was a side of him I needed to see, to cancel any doubt he was the one for me.

  In the middle of the night he woke me, nibbling on my face, “You picked the best place for our honeymoon. What made you decide to come here?”

  “Ibiza would have been ideal, but I know we’re going back there this summer. And I wanted to meet your mom. Plus, I didn’t want to go anywhere tropical.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because I’ve been too embarrassed to tell you, I fall into the stereotype when it comes to water,” I mumbled beneath my pillow.

  “We do have a coast and seas you know.”

  “I know, but you don’t think of boats, and oceans when you think of Pompeii. You think of the volcano and landmarks.”

  “True, but what stereotype?”

  “I can’t swim. I’ve tried to learn, but I can’t hold my breath long under water, and when I try to move in the water, I go nowhere. It’s quite comical.”

  “I can teach you.”

  “I will frustrate you.”

  “No, you won’t. It’ll be the first thing I teach you. The second will be how to make a proper mix.”

  “My mixes are fine.”

  “Remember I’ve seen your playlists,” he joked.

  I squeezed his nose. We wrestled and giggled then he pressured me into taking a lesson from him, “I’ll give it one lesson. But I’m telling you I’m pretty bad.”

  “I love a challenge. I’ll have you swimming like a fish by the end of the summer.”

  “God, you’re confident. Go back to sleep.”

  “I had something else on my mind,” he placed my hand on his wood.

  “The walls are too thin,” I whispered, “You know someone will hear us.”

  I rubbed it regardless of my excuse, breaking him free from his boxers. He tasted my lips, “I don’t care. I want you now.”

  “I hate saying no to you,” I sighed.

  “Then don’t.”

  I slipped under the covers and kissed him softly on the tip of his head, then slicked him with strong pulls from my throat to my lips. My plan was to suck him off quietly, so the family wouldn’t hear the headboard knock against the wall, or squeaks from the bed as I was being pillaged. But my performance was stellar, and Mash’s delight was far from quiet.

  I rose from below and looked at him with a smile and shrugged my shoulders, then placed my finger over his lips. He flipped me over to the edge of the bed, then pulled me to my feet. I dropped to my knees for a second taste of him, gliding my hands against his abs, and looking him directly in his eyes. The taste of salt tinged my tongue. I froze and grinned at him.

  He lifted me from the floor and bent me over facing the wall, boisterous in his delight, unconcerned with the listening ears. I restrained vocally, whimpering as low as possible, until the painful pleasure overpowered me. A gleeful sigh escaped when our skin slapped in rhythm as my husband placed one hand around my neck, bringing me closer to his body with a light choke to hold me in place. He grunted uncontrollably into my back, surely waking the house.

  The next morning, I went into the kitchen, greeted with snickers from the aunts and my mother-in-law. It was obvious they heard us. “What a beautiful glow you have this morning,” said one of them in English, and the rest chuckled at my expense.

  “It must be the water here,” I replied.

  “Mm hmm,” said Valeria.

  Italian words circled the room with giggles between them, bambino and presto frequently in their exchange. I smiled to let them know, I knew they were going in on me, then Mash and I left for a day out to ourselves.

  Traffic was heavy on the short drive to Pompeii, but the scenic route made it worthwhile during the stall. The buildings along the route were picturesque, and the mosaics the first I had ever seen.

  The closer we were to the city, we withdrew from our original plans of visiting the ruins, and roamed the streets instead. The highlight of the day was finally tasting what I heard was the best pizza in the world. I wasn’t lied to. It was magnifico. I moaned with every bite, and didn’t speak until I met the owner. After explaining how far I travelled to taste his heavenly pie, and commending him on its supreme flavor, he whispered his secret in my ear. L’acqua naturale.

  Before returning to a house full of family, we strolled down the cobblestoned streets in the neighborhood, enjoying the starry night sky, searching for zodiac signs and visible planets. We picked up cartons of gelato for the little ones, and spent our final night with family trading stories—Mash translating for me, and eating until our bellies nearly burst.

  The night ended with a surprise from Valeria. In front of the entire family, she placed a ring in Mash’s hand. He translated her wish was for him to place her mother’s ring on my finger, and made me promise to continue the tradition. I repeated, “Lo prometto,” and the family cheered as Mash slid it in place.

  The house remained filled with Pasini’s for a final night, but it didn’t stop us from repeating last night’s activities—most likely being cheered on from every room in the house.

  The next morning, we returned to business as usual, departing for Copenhagen. A one night stop, for a show I was not looking forward to attending. The name Harv Legend spilled from his lips as the headliner, and I laid low the moment we checked into the hotel.

  Travel had gotten the best of me, so lounging in the room while Mash went to work wasn’t a bad idea. Missing out on the famous crepe station, museums, and favorite spots Mash raved about, had to wait for a future visit. I was spent, leaving my bag packed due to our early departure merely hours away.

  Mash arrived some time over in the night, lying next to me fully clothed.

  The alarm sounded and the in and out trip ended just as it began. The fact I didn’t hear him when he arrived was telling of my exhaustion level. To perk us up for the trip home, he stood in line at the bistro, fetching us coffee and scones, while I settled the bill at the desk.

  I reached for the receipt from the clerk and a hand snatched it away from my grasp. Standing beside me was Harv Legend, persistently annoying.

  “So, we meet again. I thought you were long gone back to America,” he said grinning on the side of his mouth.

  “Hello again. I hear you had an amazing show last night. Congrats. Now if you’ll excuse me,” I turned back to the clerk.

  “How do you know we had a good show?”

  “My husband told me.”

  “Husband? You and Mash?”

  “Yes. Now if you’ll excuse me.”

  “Queens belong with Kings,” he said grabbing my hand.

  “Don’t do that,” I jerked away.

  Folding the receipt in half, he toyed with me. Presenting and taking it away. I huffed in frustration, then he finally handed it to me, “Mash is cool, but he doesn’t know what to do with a Queen like you.” I reached for the paper, and he held it tightly in his grip
before letting it go, “And here I thought I got lucky running into you. Remember what I said,” rubbing my shoulder. I maneuvered backwards, not knowing what to say or do as Mash now stood behind him. He slapped his hand from my shoulder, “Harv, I thought we already went through this.”

  Harv’s eyes grew big from the shock of Mash’s actions. Stunned, he stared at Mash with a dumb look on his face, then attempted to deflect his wrongdoing, “I hear congratulations are in order. Seems like you would have mentioned that last night. But then again,” he scoffed, “You two be easy.”

  ‘What does that mean,’ I wondered.

  “Don’t disrespect my wife again.”

  “Calm down big mon. You no wan it wit a real bad mon,” Harv jargoned.

  “Let’s just go,” I said.

  “Grimey fuck!” Mash groaned, and stood in front of me.

  “Oh you’re a tough guy now?”

  “I think you want to see if I’m a tough guy,” Mash belted.

  “People are staring at us. Let’s go. Please,” I pled pulling him away.

  The matter wasn’t discussed right away. Through checkpoint, the skywalk, and boarding, we avoided conversing with one another. I couldn’t find the right words to say, and he wasn’t in the right headspace to hear me. We were miles in the air before our eyes locked, and the silence was broken.

  “Thank you for standing up for me,” I said leaning into him.

  “I did what I was supposed to do,” he kissed my forehead.