by Shayne Ford
I slide my elbow under my head and look at him, my gaze drifting across his chest, his muscular neck and masculine jawline. His beautiful lips.
Peace and calmness read on his face.
It takes a few more moments before he moves his arm and cracks an eye open as if he knows I’m staring at him.
He glances at me.
“What are you doing, Eve?”
“Nothing.”
He pops an eyebrow up.
“How long have you been staring at me?”
“About a minute or so.”
“It worked,” he says, smiling.
“What do you mean?”
“You woke me with your stare.”
I grin.
“No, I didn’t.”
“Yes, you did.”
He rolls to his side to face me, props his head on his arm just like me and shuts his eyes.
“Are you sleeping?” I ask after a few moments.
“I’m trying,” he murmurs, a small smile tugging at his lips.
I bring my hand to his face and gently stroke his cheek before I run my fingers through his hair.
He doesn’t bat a lash.
There’s something so mesmerizing about this strong, wild man, who could turn lethal at a drop of a hat if he needed to, being so settled and peaceful under my touch.
“You like it?”
“Mmm-hmm,” he murmurs without opening his eyes.
“I missed having you around,” I say.
He opens his eyes and looks at me through his lashes.
“Me too.”
“What did you do this past week?”
“I waited for you to get out of the hospital, and get better so that I scold you for being irresponsible and not listening to me,” he says quietly, flashing a grin.
I push myself closer to him and kiss him on his cheek.
“What is it about you that I want to have you in my home and wake up with you?” I ask quietly.
“You... love me?”
I find his smile adorable.
I breathe out a quiet chuckle.
“You already know that.”
“Mmm-hmm.”
He closes his eyes again.
“Do you have to go anywhere today?” I ask.
“Yes.”
My silence prompts him to open his eyes.
“I’ll be back. And I’ll bring food,” he adds after a moment.
He searches my eyes.
“So when do you plan on moving back to Colorado?”
“Before Valentine’s Day.”
A grin tilts his lips.
“Why are you smiling?”
“No reason.”
“Rain said that I could stay with them until I find a place to live. I don’t want to live with my parents.”
“I understand.”
“What about you?”
“What about me?”
“Am I going to see you on Valentine’s day?”
“I’m sure you will.”
Brushing his face with my fingers, I mull over a memory of us.
“When I talked to you that night...” I say, no longer smiling. “You said there was something else that made you react the way you did at James’ party. What was it?”
His grin vanishes as well.
“It’s a long story.”
“Can’t you tell me about it?”
“Maybe some other time,” he says, sleepy.
He stretches his arm, prompting me to slide closer to him. I shift my position so that my back lines his chest. His arm closes around me while his lips fall asleep in my hair.
Soon my body warms up from his, and I drift off to sleep, wrapped in his love.
8
EVE
I haven’t slept so well in a very long time.
It must be late morning, I muse, as I crack an eye open and get a glimpse of the sunlight gliding onto the windows sills.
I register movement behind my back when he rolls off the bed and walks out of the room. A moment later, the water starts running in the shower.
Smiling, I close my eyes, relishing the sweet feeling. I’m at peace with having him here with me. I’m happy that somehow we didn’t get lost from each other.
The water stops running before his footsteps resonate down the corridor. A scent of body wash and fresh mint drifts through the air as he passes by my bedroom and enters the kitchen.
Soon after, the aroma of espresso travels to me.
My phone begins to ring.
“Rain?”
I push up to my elbow, shifting the phone so that she can only see me, no background.
“Hey. Did I wake you?”
“No, no.”
“How are you feeling today?”
“Great.”
“I’m happy to hear that. I just wanted to check with you and make sure that you’re all right.”
“Everything is fine.”
I barely stop speaking when Tiago’s words echo in the air.
“Are you hungry, baby?”
My eyes are locked with Rain’s when her eyebrows shoot up in surprise.
“Who is that?” she asks, smiling.
“No, one. Give me a second,” I say, sliding the phone onto the pillow, face down, the microphone muted.
I jump out of bed and dash to the kitchen.
I barely set foot in when he turns around, and his bare chest enters my line of sight. His dress shirt is open, his suit pants on, his belt buckled.
“I’m on the phone with Rain.”
“Okay,” he says unfazed. “Your coffee’s ready.”
He motions to a delicate glass cup filled with creamy coffee.
“It looks and smells deliciously,” I say, picking it up from the table.
I take a rushed sip.
“I’m not hungry yet. You?” I ask.
“I have to leave now. We’ll eat later. Okay?”
My heart swells.
“Are you coming back soon then?”
“Mmm-hmm.”
Smiling, he buttons up his shirt and tucks it in his pants.
His hand comes to the back my hair next. He curls his fingers around my neck and places a kiss on my cheek.
“Go back to bed,” he says as he breaks away from me.
A fresh scent of cologne lingers behind him.
“Okay.”
I follow him in the hallway and watch him pull on his jacket.
His eyes drift down on my soft pajamas before he lifts his gaze and locks mine.
A small smile curves his lips as he closes the space between us and brings his index finger to my shoulder.
“I like this print. It’s really cute...” he says, his gaze hovering over the baby bears frolicking on a white background.
I watch him set his focus on a bear. He chooses one that sits just above my nipple.
“What I like even better is what lies underneath,” he says, touching the swell of my chest and squeezing my nipple through the fabric of my top.
Tingles swirl beneath his touch.
He leans closer, runs his lips along my jawline before he presses them against my neck, igniting a fire in my skin.
“I’ll see you later,” he says.
With that, he straightens his back and pulls away.
A moment later, he winks at me and slips out the door.
It takes me a few good moments to realize that Rain is still on the phone–– if she hasn’t given up on me and hung up already.
Cheeks burning and heart pounding, I sprint to the bedroom.
I sweep my phone off my pillow and crash onto my bed.
To my surprise, she hasn’t hung up, yet I don’t see her face on my phone screen either.
“Rain?”
“I’m here.”
Her voice resonates somewhere in the background.
“Do you have company?” she asks before she brings a pink lady apple to her mouth and takes a bite.
“Uh...”
“Eve?” she chides
me, smiling. “Come on now, I’ve heard the man talking. The question was rhetorical.”
A shy smile creeps on my lips.
“Yeah, he was here.”
“Your mysterious man?”
“Mmm-hmm. That’s exactly him,” I mumble, looking down, toying with an idea.
I need to put an end to this story. Use a different lie for the future.
She doesn’t say a word when I lift my gaze to her.
“Yeah, he came to see me.”
“Did you introduce him to Renee?”
“She left before he got back in town.”
“So he spent the night there?” she says as she chews on a bite of an apple.
“Yup.”
She studies me for a moment, my reluctance to share details registering with her.
“Okay. Shifting topics then... Your room is ready for you.”
“Thank you. I won’t stay at your place for long. I’m sure I’ll find something quickly. Unless mom wears me out and convinces me to move back home.”
She laughs, her blue sweater and blonde hair, sparkling in the morning light.
“There’s a new apartment building not far from James’ office.”
“I know. I’ve checked it already. I talked to a real estate agent who emailed me a bunch of information. I’m sure I’ll find something soon.”
“Good. Just so you know, I’m not kicking you out. I just want you to be at ease.”
“I know.”
“Good. That’s all I had to say. I need to leave now. I have lunch with Thea.”
She pulls up from her chair, picking up her cell phone as well.
“Let me see you,” I say as I run my eyes down on her.
She angles her phone so that I get a better view of her.
“Oh, my God. It’s growing.”
She chuckles.
“That’s the whole idea.”
“When are we going to know if it’s a boy or a girl?”
“We might not want to know.”
“Aren’t you curious?”
“I am, but we’re not sure if we want to know it or not. If we opt to know, we will find out sometime between the 18th and 22nd week.”
“Two more months, huh?”
“A little bit more.”
“I can’t wait.”
“What’s it to you?”
“I’m curious. Besides, I want to go shopping with you.”
She giggles again.
“You’re late, girlie. I’ve already started shopping. In fact, after I’m having lunch with Thea, where do you think we’re going?”
I laugh.
“You can do online shopping.”
“Not fun. The stores are so cute. I can’t wait for you to come here and browse them with me.”
“Me too,” I say, flooded by a good feeling. “I missed you, Rain,” I say quietly.
“I missed you too.”
Her eyes glimmer with a smile.
“Let me go now before I start crying. I don’t want to smudge my mascara.”
“Say hi to Thea for me.”
“I will.”
“Bye.”
I set the phone down, and smile for a few good moments before I bring the cup of coffee to my lips.
My drink is no longer hot, yet still warm enough to make the flavors blend. It’s sweet and aromatic and made with love.
Absently, I take another sip before I put on a robe, collect my phone, and walk into the kitchen.
I scoop out a small slice of almond cake and stroll back to the living room. The place is washed with light, the sun sitting high in the sky, a golden glow dripping on the rooftops.
Absently, I watch the street while taking bites of cake and drinking coffee. When I’m done, I spin around, chewing on the last crumbs when I notice something on the coffee table.
I set my empty cup next to it and pick it up. It’s a small leather-bound journal, one of those notebooks with pretty vintage-looking covers. There’s a small note next to it.
‘You asked for my writings.
Tiago.’
EVE
As cryptic as his message is, I sense the warning buried in his words.
Heart pounding, I pick up the leather notebook, slowly curl up on the couch, untie the strings that keep the covers together and start reading.
The entries span four or five years. The earliest paragraphs were written when he was fourteen, the latest, when he was almost nineteen.
I find insightful paragraphs about his life as a teenager, finding true love later on, and even wisdom bits on world affairs.
His writing is brutally sincere, accessible, his most intimate thoughts coming to life easily in the pages of his journal.
His musings speak of a bright, sharp, overly sensitive teenager who struggles with the inherent pain and confusion of growing up and becoming a young man. Someone who was trying to adjust the best he could to the world surrounding him.
The world he so much despised.
His thoughts reveal a young boy who has no control over his destiny and doesn’t know how to cope with his strong, irrational emotions, not to say that he lacks a basic understanding of the adult world.
Pages and pages stream intense anger, a silent rebellion encased in the words that slash and slice and hurt.
A storm of contradictions, a sense of powerlessness mixed with vengeance, a cry for help addressed to no one but the universe, and his brutal conclusions and hastily drawn plans to escape his chaotic life.
As his story progresses, I notice a few significant crossroads, punctuated by moments of visceral panic. It all starts when his parents experience the beginning of their estrangement, their first family breakdown.
As much as they make an effort to spare their son, the salacious details make it to his ears.
‘They fought again last night. Actually, it was early in the morning, when he came back from a business trip. Their words made me sick. They were vile and angry and poisonous. She’s still mad at him, and for a good reason. All he gave her was a bunch of crap. How could he do that to her?
He’s been gone for three weeks.
He said he traveled to London, but was he? I happened to answer the phone when someone named Shelley called him and then some man who inquired about my dad’s whereabouts, sketchy people from what I can tell.
If I know all this, I’m sure my mom knows it too.
That’s why she is so angry. Of course, nothing good came out of their stupid fight last night.
Their shouting match didn’t clear things up.
Pure hatred dripped from their words as if they’ve never been in love. They slammed doors and accusations flew around the house, before she started to cry, and he stormed out.
Seeing her like that broke my heart.
Him leaving, crushed me too.
I was hoping to spend some time with him this weekend. To see him make some time for me in his busy schedule––as he used to.
I was hoping that he’d bring me gifts, little stupid nothings that would’ve signaled to me that he thought about me.
And for sure, I was planning on telling him about the new girl in my class, and that I like her a lot, although I can’t open my otherwise big mouth to tell her shit. I was hoping he’d give me some advice.
Well... Fuck that.
It’s not gonna happen now.
He said he’d rather stay at the hotel than here with my mother and me.
Neither of them acted as if they cared about me or what I wanted. But who can blame them really?
My dad is fucking other women. Nothing good can come out of that.’
I close the notebook just because my chin starts trembling, and a couple of tears trickle down, falling and breaking against the journal.
I set the notebook on the side, wipe away my tears, and walk to the kitchen.
I need a hot drink.
I take my time to prepare a cup of hot cocoa and garnish it with freshly whipped cream, and dark chocolate curls be
fore I make the trip back, collect his journal and bring it to the kitchen.
I set it on the table along with my drink before I lower myself into a chair, bring the cup to my lips, and take the first swig. It makes my taste buds tingle before its warmth travels down my throat.
My eyes shift to his journal again.
I leaf through it for a few moments, unable to completely break away from it.
I find the paragraph I just read and continue.
The following chapters document every fight and heated argument his parents had. Every battle that broke down his family. Every moment of panic, pain, and frustration he experienced when his mother and father were at each other’s throats.
Here and there, he mentions brief moments of relief. Sadly, those only breed false hope for an unlikely reconciliation.
An air of nostalgia permeates the chapters in which he recollects a time when his parents used to love each other, and their life was filled with happiness, not shouting matches.
When they had dinner together, and his father wasn’t traveling that much. He sees every crisis as an existential threat and has absolutely no tools to cope with it.
Not surprisingly, he rebelled every way he could and did all the stupid things kids usually do to attract their parents’ attention.
‘Happiness is an illusion, right up there with love. How can people get so hung up on ‘these two’ and let them shape their lives? Bring them so much pain? How can they build their happiness on loving someone else when people can take their love away at any given moment, and quite often without a logical reason?
How can they love people who have no idea that someone else’s happiness depends on them.
People like my parents who think that their problems can’t affect me as long as they are nice to me?
See, the thing is... I know how these things work. I’ve seen it in other homes. Entangled lives ripped apart and buried as one.
My parents screw their lives and also mine.
But this is life.
I’m already uprooted, floating in an ocean of uncertainty, not knowing how to calibrate myself and keep my emotions under control.
So here’s my plan.
I’m not going to feel anything from now on. I’ll show them–– all of them, that I don’t care or give a pure, utter fuck.
And as far as I’m concerned, I’m not going to fall for anyone or get attached to anything–– not anymore, not my parents or the girl I couldn’t muster the courage to talk to.