“What was it?” I say as though to myself. “Ah,” I grin at him teasingly. “Adultery, Daniel Stark, adultery. Even past events are now considered adultery.” I mirror his words from when Dave called me; he chuckles again and bends to plant a lush kiss on my lips.
“Plenty, Daniel?” I raise an eyebrow.
“What can I say,” he smirks. “I had to release the tension of all the hours I spent working hard.” He shrugs and I let out a grunt.
“So just casual sex, nothing serious?”
“Didn’t have the time or the inclination.”
Though I absently shake my head, I’m surprised at how similar we are after all.
“Well, sweetie, you want to talk about your past in that department?” he questions with a semi-annoyed yet wicked smile. I wince. “Thought so,” he mutters. “Don’t worry, that’s the last thing I want to hear about, especially here, given my punching bag is back at home.”
~~~
When Daniel eventually leaves for the beach I fall asleep under the caressing warmness of the noon sun, surrounded by “Baja Carols” pleasantly playing in the background.
“Hayley,” I am awakened by an unfamiliar voice; turning sleepily to the source, I notice two dark figures standing nearby. Blinking, I lift my hand to block the blinding light and with the shade I can get a better look at Rafael and another guy who seems his age and who actually resembles him. Looking around I realize Daniel hasn’t yet returned.
“Hi Rafael,” I say, confused about why he’s here.
“Hello Hayley, is Daniel around?”
“He went surfing,” I say, bothered by the way Rafael’s friend’s eyes trail slowly over my barely-covered body.
“I came to pick up a couple of textbooks I left here yesterday.”
“You can go ahead and get them, the house is open.” I nod toward the balcony doors.
“Just going to get them,” he mentions to his friend as he makes his way into the house. Feeling uncomfortable with the blunt gaze of Rafael’s friend I turn to sit upright. The thought of lying down under his observant eyes makes me self-conscious.
“Nice view,” he says with a sleazy grin, his eyes somewhat glossy, stare fixed on my breasts. I nod, squirming. Will he stop with the gawking? What is he doing? To my shock he boldly turns to sit next to me on the lounger, his closeness at the verge of intrusion. He’s so close his thigh almost touches mine and I can smell fumes of alcohol on his heavy breath.
“We can communicate from a distance,” I say, disturbed but making an effort to be subtle, given he is Rafael’s friend, perhaps even Daniel’s. Maybe I’m misreading the situation. But I want him far away from me, as far as possible.
“Why?” His eyes flicker wickedly. And then, to my complete alarm, he sends his finger running up my thigh, running up, way too close to the hem of my bikini bottom, inches from sliding under the fabric. He murmurs croakily, “You are so hot.” My heart beats frantically, probably palpable. I couldn’t be more repulsed by his touch.
And just as I am about to slap him and push him the hell away, I hear Daniel seethe, “What the f …?”
Next, as though in slow-motion, I watch him grab the guy by his shirt, yanking him from beside me, throwing him to the opposite side of the deck as if he were weightless. Losing his balance, Rafael’s friend falls onto the parallel matching recliner. Distracted by a moving figure, I turn to see Rafael standing by the door that leads to the deck, observing the scene from the side. From the expression on his face I realize he is as shocked as I am. He looks utterly exasperated as he begins to scold his friend in Spanish.
Daniel seeks my gaze. Finding it, he stares at me, absorbed in checking whether I was hurt in any way.
“I’m okay,” I mouth quietly, still shaken. His eyes smolder. His entire psyche reflects a need for blood. I’ve seen him angry before, but never like this. He has a lethal glint in the depths of his stare.
He turns to look at Rafael who shrugs with a tormented expression, what appears to be embarrassment at his friend’s behavior. I actually feel sorry for him.
Daniel returns his stare to the other guy and in an ice-covered voice, says, “Next time, if you even accidentally breathe her way, you will end up needing to breathe with the help of a machine.” Slightly releasing his clenched fists he adds, “Now get the hell out of my house, before we both regret the outcome.” Luckily it takes Rafael’s companion less than a few seconds to sober up and comprehend the magnitude of Daniel’s threat and makes himself scarce in the blink of an eye.
“I am so sorry, Daniel, Hayley,” Rafael stutters, completely sincere. Daniel just glances his way with the same expression that’s inhabited his face since he came back.
“It’s okay, Rafael, you did nothing wrong, it’s not your fault,” I say in a velvety voice. Trying to further soothe him I change the subject and ask whether he was able to find his textbook, at the same time trying to provide Daniel with an explanation of Rafael’s presence.
“Make sure he doesn’t set a foot here ever again. You can leave now,” Daniel growls. I stare at him, concerned, ready to jump in, hoping he won’t take it out on Rafael.
“Daniel,” Rafael tries, but the look Daniel grants him makes him stop. He just nods and takes it as a cue to leave.
What a brutal awakening to such a serene sleep. I sigh, still somewhat shaken.
As we’re left to ourselves, I look up at Daniel, and he stares back at me, still looking infuriated. There’s something about the way he looks: his wetsuit hanging loose around his waist, his exposed chest, tanned, bare and carved, his damp hair falling in gold clusters over his tawny, handsome face and the gaze in his eyes, that raw murderous gaze. A wild need starts inside of me, drawing every part of me to him. Trembling inside with raging desire I stand up and walk toward him. I inch up and grab his face with both hands as I reach his side. Pulling him forcefully, I literally drink his mouth. It takes him less than a second to register my intentions and as he does, he reciprocates my outburst in the same animalistic manner; anger quickly shifts to feral need. In no time we’re all over each other, stroking, touching, biting, kissing, and gasping anxiously as though fighting for the ultimate release, and right after reaching it we both collapse on the recliner. We level our short rapid breaths in laced hands, deep in thought.
Daniel rests his forehead against mine and with his closed eyes murmurs, “If something ever happens to you …”
I squeeze his hand.
“I love you too,” I whisper to his lips.
Chapter 29: Hippie Commune
“Ready to meet Mommy?” Daniel asks, with a wide smirk.
“Sure.” I beam back at him, though now that I’m here I am a tad nervous. Knowing how he feels about his mother, all of a sudden it becomes extremely important to me that she’ll like me too and approve of me.
“It’ll be fine, she’s cool.” Daniel winks at me, squeezing my clenched fist reassuringly.
I am taken aback by the look of the house as we get closer; it could not have been more different than what I had pictured; it’s a one-level, small, old but charming house with an equally small yet groomed garden. The house couldn’t have more than three bedrooms. The place screams modesty, not exactly what I anticipated for Daniel Stark’s mother. Daniel opens a rusted turquoise gate to let us in. Stepping in, I notice that the garden is surrounded by close-knit grapevines that give it a fairytale, secret garden look.
Daniel doesn’t knock but opens the unlocked door that leads to a cozy interior, to velvety, crimson, majestically patterned, wallpaper-covered walls. Indian oil lamps are scattered around; some hang from the ceiling, some are placed on furniture around the room. Soft, colorful saris are laid on two adjunct mocha sofas standing firmly on a dark wooden floor. The room gives the impression of a refined ashram, hippie chic. Again, the exact opposite of what I anticipated. Daniel and hippie don’t go hand in hand, at least not in my mind.
A tall, lean and graceful lady almost Daniel’s height wa
lks toward us from a lengthy corridor; she has the most tranquil, gentle smile upon her lips. A jingling sound from the few bell anklets decorating her bare feet accompanies her movement. She’s simply dressed in jeans and a Boho linen blouse, yet still looks elegant. I stare at her, captivated by the serenity she emits. Approaching us, she appraises me with a silky hazel gaze, that same color as Daniel’s, though her eyes are different, inducing sheer peacefulness. They exchange caring, meaningful stares between them; the expression in Daniel’s look is of reverence, and it deeply touches my heart.
“Hayley.” She turns to look at me, my name is a soft melodic tune in her voice. “I’m Iris.”
“Hello, nice to meet you.” I smile and she hugs me tight in return, not a light hug but a full-hearted embrace that leaves me somewhat surprised. Stepping back she puts her hands on my cheeks, studying me carefully for a few lengthy moments. I can’t help but blush at the extensive attention. From the corner of my eye I can see Daniel’s lips lift up.
“You were right, my boy,” she says. “She is beautiful. Such delicate features,” she adds. “You have an angelic face,” she murmurs, keeping her grip and her stare on me for too long to feel comfortable.
“That’s my Hayley,” Daniel says, pride linking his voice.
My Hayley … I can’t get enough of the sound of that.
“Now, let go of her before she runs for the door,” Daniel jokes, sending a hand toward the small of my back, reassuring.
She smiles at him, then at me, and finally lets go. If I could think of the one person unlikely to be my beloved psycho’s mom she would be the one.
“Sit by the table, I’ll bring the food,” she offers, her expression full of tender joy. Before turning on her heels she says, looking at Daniel, “Already in love, aren’t you, my boy?” She doesn’t wait for an answer but heads to where I suppose the kitchen would be. A flawless, tender smile crosses Daniel’s face as he stares fondly at her back, which is decorated by a long, thick, blond braid, till she disappears in the hallway.
“Scared yet?” he teases, nudging my shoulder.
I chuckle. “The last word I would use to describe your mother is scary. She’s different, I must say. Well, from you,” I add.
“Different? You mean all this spiritual, hippie mumbo-jumbo crap?”
“I mean calm and serene as opposed to wild and impulsive.” I grin at him when he pulls me closer, smacking my behind while planting a steamy kiss on my lips. I try to pull back for the sake of appropriate conduct. He doesn’t let go, but stays me with his tight grip on my waist. He kisses me yet more absorbedly; this time his hand finds its way under my white cotton dress.
“Daniel!” I scold to his mouth.
A jingling sound approaches. “Don’t worry, Hayley, I’m more than fine with some show of affection. As far as I’m concerned you kids can go to the next room and make sweet love,” Iris comments, coming back into the room holding a ceramic pot.
Oh my god. Daniel releases me from his grip, biting his lip, subduing a broader smirk at my shock and my flushed cheeks.
“Hales, do you want to step into the next room to make sweet love to me?” He chuckles.
I choose to disregard him completely. I can literally feel the deepening of my blush.
“Maybe later, the food will get cold,” Iris mutters.
Please for the love of all that’s good in this world, let this be her sense of humor speaking. Daniel laughs, taking pleasure at my discomfort, a little too much.
There is a tagine at the center of the table along with several savory-looking side dishes; the smell is of middle-eastern spices and herbs, with cumin and cinnamon scents dominating the air.
“Moroccan lamb tagine, I hope you like spicy,” Iris says to me. I nod in confirmation and she responds with a curve of her lips and a kind stare.
“Looks delicious, Iris.”
“You can eat it with your hands or with pita bread,” she suggests.
“Maybe next time at our annual tribal dinner,” Daniel jabs, slightly shaking his head.
Iris rewards him with a fond smile. I can’t help but notice the deep connection they have between them. She holds the power to set him in a peaceful mood.
“So, Hayley,” she addresses me as I put a spoonful of some tomatoes, parsley and onion salad on my plate. I turn to look at her, waiting for her to continue. “I feel like I already know everything there is to know about you.”
“How’s that?” I question, not so sure if I should be delighted or concerned.
“My boy usually doesn’t share too much information, I usually have to force it out of him, but lately he can’t stop talking about one subject: you.” Her kind smile widens. I turn my head to look at Daniel and he shrugs, highly engaged with his food.
“How is your new job?”
Oh, she did get a full briefing about me. “I’m actually very pleased with it. It’s given me the opportunity to learn so many new things I’ve been keen to work on for a long time and I’m thrilled at the chance.”
“That’s priceless, to get to do something you’re passionate about.”
“I understand you are an artist. What kind of medium do you create?”
“I sketch and paint, everything from landscapes to portraits to abstract. I mostly use charcoal, though from time to time I go for oil,” she explains, her face illuminated; her love for what she does is clearly reflected by her deep smile and gleaming eyes. I can relate to the feeling; this is exactly how I feel about my illustrations.
“It would be nice to sketch you; you have such even, delicate features.”
I send her a timid smile, feeling slightly self-conscious.
“You should, I’ll buy it,” Daniel says casually, raising another forkful to his mouth.
“Aren’t you eating the tagine?” I ask Iris midway through dinner, after we’ve discussed her life in Baja and the fact that she doesn’t like visiting San Francisco and does it only to see Daniel.
“I’m a vegetarian,” she answers.
Figures you would be, and I believe it’s for all the right reasons. She has an aura of a saint.
It was only when Daniel left for college, she tells me later, that she finally fulfilled her long time desire to move to Baja. I ask her why she chose this specific town as her home and one of her first replies is a question of whether I have seen the place. I immediately understand what she means. She also speaks at length about how calm and secluded this place is. I’m surprised to learn that it was Daniel who originally introduced her to this paradise, taking her with him on one of his surfing trips. She also tells me about the artistic community; apparently there are more than a few artists that chose to live in this same charming town.
“You seem very happy here,” I say. She regards me with a warm smile, her eyes gleaming with content.
“I am, very much. I feel like I belong here, especially since I can do what I enjoy the most. I could not ask for more.” She shifts her pensive stare to the open window and back at me. “I am very happy,” she confirms.
Though her smile doesn’t change I sense that her feeling is deeper than happy. The lady in front of me seems blissful and whole. She then puts her delicate hand over mine and says in her melodic voice, “You just need to think hard about what and how much is really enough. Once you find that out, it’s what makes you live in sheer bliss. Till then, there are constant doubts.”
I think about her words of wisdom and couldn’t agree more. I look over to check Daniel’s reaction, expecting either an eye roll or some sort of ridicule in his expression; I am surprised to see that he seems thoughtful. Once he notices my staring his lips pull up at the side and he slowly nods in agreement. I reciprocate with a gentle smile at the profound acknowledgement that forms between us, one that goes beyond words.
I listen eagerly as Iris shares with me stories of Daniel’s childhood, of him being a reckless, restless and charismatic child. Nothing has really changed, I think, amused.
“I ju
st hated the period when he became so introverted. You know, when Mike left.”
Mike, that’s his father’s name, and not “the coward who left us.” I notice Daniel stiffen at my side. His jaw clenches, though his annoyance seems mild. I rest my hand on his thigh and caress it gently, trying to calm him down.
“Don’t start with that,” he warns in a low, stony voice.
“It is a part of who you are. It’s one of the elements that made you what you have become, Daniel. You can’t ignore that.” Iris’ tranquil demeanor is in complete contradiction to Daniel’s growing irritation. Choosing to disregard the warning emanating from her son’s glare, she continues, saying that Mike was just scared, and that’s what led him to act the way he did.
“When your family needs you the most you man up, not run away,” Daniel argues. “You should take care of those you love. You fight for them for god’s sake.”
“My love, you need to forgive and let go of your anger. He didn’t mean to harm us, that wasn’t his intention.” Her voice is almost begging when she seeks his gaze.
“Oh, he didn’t,” Daniel retaliates in utter disdain.
“He wasn’t mature enough, and was scared. He couldn’t take care of us. He was confused. A young, scared man who didn’t know how to deal with an illness.”
How can she be so forgiving?
“Stop with this holistic spiritual shit when it comes to him. For fuck’s sake, stop.” For the first time since we stepped into the house, Daniel is offensive toward his mother, then he shuts down completely. He doesn’t even respond to my squeeze of his hand under the table.
Alert level is up to red. When I try to catch his eyes I notice that he is absorbed with pecking at his food, his stare impenetrable.
Trying to divert the conversation, I ask Iris about her miraculous recovery from cancer. She explains about the experimental treatments she went through, which eventually led to fully curing the specific type of cancer she suffered from. I learn that Daniel was frequently moved between the homes of friends and family when she was away for treatment or wasn’t able to take care of him by herself, which was for a couple of years when he was still in elementary school. The thought of him growing up that way cuts me deep inside.
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