A Life Sublime

by Billy London

  Men tended to look at a happy woman and wonder if they could make her happier — usually with however many inches that man carried between his legs. Massimo stared back, the message in his eyes clear enough to not require subtitles. She is mine. Eyes back in your heads or lose them.

  The exhibition crossed the Southbank between the National Theatre and the Millennium Bridge. The wind from the Thames whipped at them, and Belinda cuddled into Massimo until the musicians began to encourage the crowd around them to dance. His pleasure came not just from the music, joyous and rhythmically infectious, but from Belinda’s laughter. It warmed him from the inside out. She warmed him.

  “Civilised is good, I told you!”

  “This is my type of fun, just more dressed,” he reminded her, his mouth close to her ear. She spun back into the circle of his arms and wrapped herself closer.

  “You’re making me very happy,” she murmured. Massimo blinked in complete surprise. What did she just say to him? “I thought you should know.”

  He leaned down to kiss her, only to feel a prod from his front. A glance up tightened his jaw and flexed his muscles. An idiot was attempting to grind his hideous self against his sweet Belinda’s generous bottom. The man sent Massimo a grin, as if to say what a free for all!

  Massimo caught the man in a stare that had in the past induced heart attacks. “Go. Away.”

  The man gulped and disappeared into the crowd. Belinda looked up with a frown. “What was that?”

  “Nothing.”

  “Is this going to happen a lot?” she asked, the frown deepening. He kissed the frown away.

  “Be very aware, Bella. I tolerated many things in my previous life and I learned a difficult lesson. The children being the exception to the rule, understand that I will not share you. With anyone.”

  “It was just a dan…”

  He raised both eyebrows. “Anyone.”

  She pressed her lips together, hiding a smile without much success and gave a nod. “All right. You won’t get into any fights though.”

  “I will respectfully disagree with you on that point,” he replied, distractedly looking around them and seeing the subtle looks of envy from the male members of the crowd. Yes, I do satisfy my woman. “Shall we go and ensure you have everything you need to stay with me tonight?”

  Belinda gave him a lingering kiss on the lips. “Yes. Let’s.”

  Triumphant, he walked them to the Embankment and hustled her into a taxi to the West End. Stopping first at Rigby and Peller, Belinda chose a slinky nightgown and matching wrap. He convinced her into selecting several daring pieces of lingerie, that he was under no circumstances allowed to see until they were alone — a caveat instilled by the severe senior saleswoman. Belinda was not given the opportunity to argue with him when he paid for all of them.

  “I do have my own money,” she frowned.

  “Save it. Spend it on the children instead.”

  They then went to SelfridgesTM and there bought her a full range of toiletries, a complete wardrobe of clothes and suitable shoes. Massimo also replaced the sunglasses he’d thrown from the yacht with a designer pair, presented with an apology which was graciously accepted. “I’m paying for dinner,” Belinda insisted as they left the store looking like a walking advert.

  “I am not comfortable with that,” Massimo replied, coaxing her in the direction of the small Italian family run restaurant he frequented.

  “Get comfortable,” Belinda said indignantly. “I’ve saved enough money, now don’t argue with me. Has anyone ever taken you out for dinner?”

  Good point. “Not that I can recall.”

  Belinda made a sound of disapproval in her throat. “That’s not right. Well then, let this be your first experience of many. If you even touch your wallet, you’ll lose hair from your head I will hit you so fast and so hard.”

  He stopped her in the middle of the pavement, a large warm hand on her tummy as he pushed the bags out of the way so he could curve her body into his. “Bella, you must take care not to threaten me so in public. It makes me desperate for you.” He touched his mouth to her neck, nibbling softly. “It is very uncivilised for me to take you in a public rest room, so do not tempt me.”

  “You wouldn’t dare,” she challenged. “Besides, look at the size of us! We wouldn’t fit.”

  He lifted his head, grinning at the curve of her lips and the drowsy lust in her eyes. “I assure you, we would fit perfectly. Whether we would be permitted to return to the restaurant is another matter.”

  “Hmm, maybe the shock of you not paying will help. I knew from the first moment I laid eyes on you that you’d be trouble.”

  Massimo took some of the bags from her left hand so he could hold it. “Ah, is that what that expression was? I thought you may have been quite impressed.”

  “That too,” she muttered reluctantly. He gave her hand a squeeze, leading her into the conditioned cool of the restaurant.

  “I promise, I will never tell a soul.”

  Twisting his fingers in Belinda’s silky hair, Massimo watched how the silver glinted against the shiny, coal black strands. He now knew how long she took to get her hair done, because after he ‘messed it up’ he would be the one to wait until she was ready and presentable. Approximately two hours if she was swift. It was enough to teach Massimo to reacquaint himself with Dante. Whilst Inferno amused him greatly, it was never as entertaining as Belinda. He’d stubbed his toe on a wooden box in her bathroom which was overflowing the potions and lotions.

  “What in the name of the holy mother is all of this?” he winced, rubbing his foot as Belinda hunted for a plaster.

  “Before you start playing with my hair and pulling what’s left of it out, it looks quite nice. That,” she jerked her chin in the direction of the box, “helps it look nice.”

  “All of them?”

  “Every last one. Aha. Now, sit down and I’ll see to your foot. Silly man.”

  “I was not paying attention.”

  She grinned up at him, “You were thinking with your cazzo.”

  “Is that really the only word in Italian you can recall?” he asked as Belinda slapped on the plaster with practiced ease.

  “Why would I remember anything else?”

  He laughed, “A very valid argument, Bella, but would you not like to learn?”

  “And what do you know in Fanti?” she demanded, softening her request with a kiss to his shoulder. Massimo picked up her hand and pressed the tip of his finger to her own with every word.

  “Shut up. Come here. You are handsome. Please. Give it to me...”

  Blushing, she muttered, “Enough. Naughty.”

  “Oh that word too.”

  “Stop it!” she admonished, burying her face in his neck.

  “May I stay with you tonight?” he asked, touching his mouth to her mused hair.

  “Of course! Since you’re such a good mattress.”

  “You should confess for those lies.”

  She looked up, frowning. “I should go, I haven’t been to church in weeks.”

  “You have attended mine,” he corrected. It had been rather enjoyable to walk into church with Belinda on his arm. He didn’t think he could shock his congregation any more until Belinda opened her mouth and sang Love Divine at the top of a wonderful set of lungs.

  “She’s like Dame Kiri,” a congregation member whispered loudly, much to Belinda’s embarrassment.

  “You have a wonderful voice,” his priest congratulated at the end of the service.

  “It helps to have something good to sing about,” Belinda replied, giving Massimo’s arm a caress.

  “Could you possibly mean me, Bella?” he asked lightly.

  “Of course you!” she retorted, rolling her eyes. “What else would I be singing about?”

  “Your devotion to the Lord.” Without waiting for what would be a sarcastic reply, he nudged her to the exit. “To home. I believe Paul will be cooking for us all.”

  She blinked
, “The children are coming?”

  “Yes, and Paul will be roasting pigeon because his brother enjoys it.”

  Belinda had a soft smile of contentment on her face. “That sounds wonderful. Drive quickly.”

  The meal had been wonderful, with the six of them together. His family felt complete once more. More so with Belinda in his life. Almost dislodging her comfortable position on his chest, Massimo leaned under his bed for her present.

  “Why are you moving?” Belinda grumbled. “Mattresses don’t move.”

  “Here. For you.”

  She half sat up, clutching the silver flat box. “You’re buying me presents again?”

  “Not so much a present. More of a stamp at the end of a letter.”

  She frowned, “I don’t understand.” When she opened the box, she gave a little gasp. “Oh. I see.”

  “Please, do not panic. I am not asking you to live with me,” although that will be forthcoming, “I want you to be able to come and go as you please. To think of this as your second home.”

  She traced her fingers over the key and the pendant on the ring, three waved lines that universally represented water. “Home is where you are,” she said softly. He had no idea why, but his heart kept jump starting, like a failing car engine. It was just a key, but every step forward needed to be in unison with the strength of Belinda’s feelings. Treading carefully was a skill he’d honed over many years, but it was all theory when Mrs. Afriyie was involved. She leaned down to kiss him.

  “Thank you.”

  He took her hand and pressed it to his chest, the cold metal of the key slicing through him. “Day by day.”

  “You shouldn’t look so worried about me.” She snuggled back against him, looking at the TV. “How’d you know I didn’t put the idea in your head?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “When did you think about getting me a key?”

  He thought for a moment. A few weeks ago, they had been in a hurry for dinner reservations. Rather, Belinda was in a hurry and Massimo was assured that they would wait for them. She had left her scarf inside his home and practically bounced outside the door to be let back inside to retrieve it. Not just to save himself from earache, Massimo did want Belinda to feel free in his home, to feel she had as much right to it, as she did to his body. Then Gina had dropped a hint, “Auntie cooks brilliantly. When she’s got time and space on her own to do it.”

  Belinda had pooh-poohed Gina’s praise, but the idea was then implanted in his head. Effectively manhandled by two rather sneaky women. It was the nicest manipulation he’d experienced. And hopefully the last. “As long as I came to the conclusion myself, then I am content.”

  She gave his stomach a firm slap. “Good for you. Are you sleeping?”

  “No, my sweet. Perhaps later.”

  Chapter Fifteen

  Belinda folded herself into the confessional and closed the door. “Forgive me father for I have sinned. It’s been one month since my last confession.”

  “Tell me, my child.”

  She had to talk to someone. God knows she wouldn’t be able to bear the look of triumph on Gina’s face if she spoke to her. “I’ve had long and extended carnal knowledge of a man who’s not my husband. There are times when I can’t doubt his faith and I can’t even begin to doubt the way he cares about me.”

  There was a long pause before Father Woodford asked, “Belinda?”

  “Yes, Father.”

  “Carnal knowledge?” he echoed, disbelief in his tone. “As in… sexual intercourse?”

  Belinda ground her teeth for a moment. “Yes, Father.”

  “You… you do… realise you have strayed from a path of righteousness?”

  Felt righteous at the time, she thought irritably. “So even if your husband is lazy, drunk and ungodly, as long as you’re married, you’re on the path of righteousness. Giving myself to someone I—” No lying on holy ground or saying anything that can’t be unsaid in the house of the Lord. “I care about is ungodly?”

  “A marriage is blessed by God. It is one of the sacraments of our very faith made by two people in the love of God.”

  That wasn’t quite what she wanted to hear. “My late husband before we divorced had no faith. Not in God and certainly not in me. That sacrament ended years before he even died.”

  Father Woodford sighed, sensing an argument coming from her.

  “The point is, I’ve spent most of my life alone. I don’t understand why God allowed this man into my life if not to show me that I shouldn’t be on my own. That I deserve some happiness. Love. Something.”

  “Carnal knowledge and love are different.”

  Belinda opened her mouth to vehemently disagree but Father overran her. “God may have sent that man to test you.”

  “For what?”

  “Devotion to your faith. Choosing the right path. Would a truly godly man compromise your beliefs?”

  “I didn’t say he was ungodly,” Belinda said, disgruntled at the reception. “And I don’t think my beliefs have changed.” Much.

  “You are searching for acceptance, Belinda. I cannot tell you that you have not sinned.”

  “I know I have!” she fumed. “I’m confessing. But I just need to know that I can do something about it. We’ve both been married before, I don’t think it’d be a straight forward yes or no on either side.”

  “Marriage in hand with true desire for forgiveness and a commitment to God to not stray from his light would go some way to seeking God’s forgiveness.”

  Why wasn’t this man listening to her? “I said marriage wasn’t likely. What if he and I remained friends? If he confessed more than I know he does. Would that make it better?”

  “What do you think? Would his prayers absolve the sin or sins?”

  Belinda sighed and pleated the folds of her skirt with her fingers for want of something to do. “It didn’t feel sinful. It felt like how my marriage should have. Well, before my husband decided to leave me so he could go forth and multiply. I don’t know why I am apologizing for wanting to have this man in my life.”

  “God will judge the sexually immoral.”

  “Hebrews Chapter Thirteen. Verse Four,” Belinda quoted. The weight of her repeated decisions lay more heavily on her shoulders than when she entered the church.

  “I understand your desire Belinda, but your life cannot be lived on the right path with ‘I want.’ Give yourself to God, and he will give you your heart’s desires.”

  “God keeps putting him in front of me.”

  “Say no to the temptation and be secure in God’s love for you.”

  “I have been,” she argued. “I’ve also spent most of my life alone or saying goodbye to the people that I love. I’ve sacrificed more than anyone so forgive me if I question as to whether this is real temptation.”

  “This isn’t absolution,” he noted with disapproval. “You will need God’s blessing if you wish to continue this relationship in a more Christian fashion.”

  “And how do I do that?”

  “You won’t need to come here for a start. That’s when you’ll know.”

  Belinda gave a mutter of disgust in her throat. “That’s terrible advice.”

  Father Woodford obviously rankled with her comment and his voice turned rather cold. “You know perfectly well what to do to make this right before the eyes of your God. Admitting that you acknowledge that you have sinned would bring you much peace and further your steps to truly confessing.”

  No it wouldn’t, or she’d have felt better light years ago.

  “Belinda, are you truly contrite?”

  If she said no, God would probably strike her down where she stood. “Only that he’s not my husband.” She said gently, glancing down at her left hand which had been bare for so long. She thought of Massimo placing a ring on her finger and her stomach dissolved in a combination of joy and sheer terror. “But I will confess for my sins and pray for his eternal soul, so you and I can sleep at night.” />
  Father Woodford gave a groan, as if he were telling himself that further argument would only take time from other confessors. He would indeed be correct.

  “Sister!”

  Belinda whipped around to see Helen waving furiously from three doors from her own home. God save me, she thought. “Hello!” she waved back with little enthusiasm. Really, she didn’t have the patience to deal with her. The day had just gone from bad to worse. Helen was a ridiculous woman at the best of times and the idea of her making a nuisance of herself set Belinda’s teeth on edge.

  Helen was one of the waifs and strays that Esther and Ben collected through the church, mutual friends and other relatives. A constant and regular gossip, Belinda had often been the barrier between an outing by Helen and a secret being kept.

  “I thought I’d come and say hello.” Helen looked her up and down, saying in near surprise. “You look really well. Obviously the sunshine suited you.”

  “Thank you, come in,” she offered listlessly. The woman swept past into Belinda’s living room and sat down. Her upbringing forced her to offer a cup of tea which Helen accepted.

  Belinda sat down opposite her as she gave a long and extraordinarily detailed low down on everyone she knew. An old friend whose wife had passed away. The memorial service would take place next week and Belinda should wear the black and white kente as everyone would be. A colleague’s daughter who had finally got her degree. The colleague was to have a party and naturally Belinda should come, give herself something to look forward to. Belinda kept looking at the clock, which kept her blissfully calm. She needed to get changed and make her way to Massimo’s home. He was cooking for her! A man had never put on an apron and cooked for her. Not even her father had cooked, he didn’t think it was his place.

  “Is something funny?” Helen asked.

  “No, not at all. What were you saying?”

  “Herbert’s eldest son had bought a house,” Helen repeated, looking at Belinda over the rim of her tea cup.