by Ivy Raine
Stash threw his head back and laughed. “My fantasy is my reality. Apparently you haven’t frequented a mirror lately.”
Marta shrugged. “From the neck up.”
“Then it’s time to invest in a full-length, because you’re not seeing what everyone else is.”
Frustration mounted. “Can we not talk about this, please? Looks aren’t important. It’s who you are and what you do with your life that makes a difference.”
“Admirable and true,” said Stash, “but still only half of the story. You know as well as I do that these things do make a difference. They have to. Without attraction, the human species dies. Besides,” he said, bumping his shoulder into hers, “if I was blind, I’d still be attracted to you. You draw me in like no one I’ve ever met. Your voice, your laugh, your mind.” He smiled. “And you have no idea what I’m talking about, do you?”
Marta shrugged, tears filling her eyes. She didn’t want to understand and she definitely didn’t want to rip a hole in her safety net. “Oh, just shut up,” she grumbled.
He laughed again. This time is was an easy laugh. He knew he was getting to her. “The beach is just through there,” he said, pointing toward a patch of short, thick trees. “There’s a spot down there where the water swirls into a little cove and when you talk, your voice is projected a hundred feet away. I’ve never seen anything like it. My brother says it’s called the talking pool.”
Marta perked up. “The talking pool. It sounds mysterious.”
A small flock of birds swooped down in front of them and disappeared into the tunnel-like path up ahead. Pinching her hair in her palm to keep it from getting caught up in the low lying limbs, Marta stooped down into the overgrown path. Twenty feet later they emerged into a sandy field with tufts of tall grasses scattered here and there.
“I thought you said this was a pebble beach,” she said, picking up one foot and shaking the sand from between her exposed toes.
“It is. Odd as it may seem, it gets rockier the closer we get to the water.”
Stash caught up her hand again and led her through the maze of dry, stiff shrubs. A strong breeze blew back against them, sending Marta’s chocolate curls twisting in the wind. She reached up and grabbed at her hair before it whipped back around and into her eyes.
“You don’t expect us to swim, do you? I didn’t bring my suit.” The sparkling ocean water looked benign, but Marta knew what lay beneath its mask - hateful disregard for human life and swift willingness to sacrifice what doesn’t belong to it. The closer they got to the ocean, the more Marta’s heart banged against her chest.
“You’ve got the only suit you need, beautiful.”
Marta barely heard him, and what she did hear, didn’t register. Twenty more feet and the water would etch between her toes. Eighteen – sixteen – fourteen.
“Coming?” Kyle coaxed Marta with a can of cold beer. “Get it while it’s cold!”
“I can’t stay for long.” Marta sat down in the sand beside him. “We’re leaving for Arizona later this evening and I still have to pack.”
Kyle grunted. “Arizona. Why in the hell would your parents drag you out to the desert where you’ll likely die of thirst when you can stay here – in paradise?”
Marta shrugged. “Mom thought it would be nice to see the Grand Canyon. Maybe go horseback riding or camping. You know. Family stuff.”
Reaching around and pulling Marta close, Kyle bent down by her ear. “Why don’t you practice riding horsey before you go?”
“Whoa!” Stash stopped, pulling on Marta’s hand. “I don’t think you want to get your sandals wet, do you?”
A rush of air raced into Marta’s lungs, expanding out her chest and filling her with a jolt of natural caffeine. “Shit!” She jumped back just before the wave sloshed up across the pebbles.
“You looked like you were hypnotized!”
Marta looked down and blurred out the pebbles with her tears. “I guess I wasn’t paying attention.”
Stash led her to an outcropping of rocks jutting out over the water. “I hope you don’t walk through traffic like that.”
“I’m not that bad. I just happened to the thinking, is all.”
“About what?” Stash took off his sweatshirt and spread it out for Marta to sit on.
“Nothing, really,” she said, kneeling down beside him.
To say the word ‘nothing’ in conjunction with her thoughts was more than shameful to Marta. ‘Nothing’ had changed her life forever, and here she sat, pretending it was … nothing.
“Does it have anything to do with that guy you dream about every night?” Stash picked up a few pieces of broken rock and tossed them far out into the water.
Marta had to laugh at that one. She hadn’t dreamed about a man for at least six months. “It wasn’t you, if that’s what you’re hoping.”
Stash leaned back on his elbows and looked up at Marta. “Whoever he was, he was in a hell of a hurry to leave you.”
The skin on Marta’s face got tight and she turned ten shades of ghostly white. “If that’s supposed to be funny, you failed miserably, Stash!”
“Not trying to be funny. Just trying to figure you out.” He reached over and tapped her knee with his thumb. “Who was he and why did he leave?”
Brushing his hand away, Marta turned her back to him. “I don’t know what you’re even talking about. I don’t dream about anyone in particular.”
She felt Stash’s hands come to rest on her shoulders and he began working his thumbs into the sore spots on her back. “You’ve called for the same man at least seven out of the last fourteen nights, Marta. I’d classify that as particular.”
She felt his steamy breath close to her neck and nearly melted when he gently touched his lips to the soft skin just under her jaw line.
“Let me take his place, Marta. I promise you won’t cry anymore.”
Marta tensed. Her efforts to hide her tears apparently hadn’t worked too well. What more did he know that he wasn’t telling her?
“Please,” he groaned in her ear. His hands slipped around her waist, and before she realized what was happening, his fingers were drifting up under her tee shirt and tracing over the bottom of her breasts.
She didn’t want to make him stop, but she had to. She couldn’t allow herself to have something so beautiful – something she hadn’t taken care of – something that she treated like a game. Too many times in her life, the memories came crashing back to destroy everything in their path, and this time would be no different.
“No!” Marta forced his hands away and jumped up, her legs tingling from being bent beneath her. “I told you,” she said, her voice shaking. “Friends.”
Stash didn’t flinch, but his lively, gray eyes scoured her. “You know,” he said at last, “whatever happened is behind you. You need to move one before it eats away your life.”
Marta looked out across the mocking water and felt a fresh wave of tears building. “You have no idea what I’ve gone through. It’s not something I can put in a neat, little box and shove under the bed.”
Though she hadn’t heard him move, she felt Stash behind her. She was too drained to shove him away. He rested his chin on her shoulder and wrapped both arms around hers.
“If it’s that bad, then I think maybe you should get some counseling.”
Marta shrugged. What Stash didn’t realize is that she’d gone the counseling route for a few years. It did help, initially, but it could never erase or change what happened. It would forever be her fault.
“Why don’t you let me call when we get home? I’ll even go with you if you want.” Stash gave her a quick kiss on the cheek. “God knows I could use some counseling myself.”
That one, little, innocent gesture made Marta feel safe. She wished she could let Stash into her life – she wanted to. But, it would always be right behind them chipping away at their love – love that she didn’t feel she deserved. She was so tired of running away from herself, morphing hersel
f, and hating herself. To look in the mirror would be a mystery because she no longer recognized the eyes looking back at her. She used to be bubbly and happy with a smile plastered to her face. But after that day, things turned black and she’d been trying to stay just ahead of the cloud where the colors, though pale and fading, still existed. Without the colors, nothing would matter anymore.
Stash didn’t press her further, and they spent the next few hours chatting about little things, carefully avoiding questions that would demand hard answers.
“I’m scheduled to work tomorrow at eight, you know.” Marta leaned back against Stash and closed her eyes. “This day went really fast. This entire weekend went fast.”
Stash buried his face in her hair. “Yeah. I thought maybe you could call off tomorrow. You need sleep.”
Marta laughed. “You mean you need sleep. You almost fell asleep at the wheel on the way here.”
Stash yawned. “I’ll admit it. I’m tired. The sofa’s not as comfortable as it looks.”
A pang of guilt shot through Marta. “Sorry about that. Why don’t we trade for a while?”
“Absolutely not!”
His voice boomed across the water, startling Marta.
“Sorry,” he said, rubbing her shoulders. “I didn’t mean to scare you, but I’ll not have any woman of mine giving up her bed for me.”
Marta froze. “Any what of yours?” She waited for him to correct himself, to take back the words, to tell her he was teasing.
“You heard me. My woman.” He squeezed her tighter. “That’s what you are whether you like it or not, and one of these days you’re gonna realize it.”
How she wanted to tell him it was true and that she would always be his – but the words wouldn’t come. They were stuck somewhere back in time with her memories of Kyle. He wanted her to say the words, too…
“Don’t hold me to it, Stash. I think that part of my heart is broken.”
Stash groaned and dragged himself to his feet. “Come on, beautiful. The mosquitos are coming out for supper.”
The ocean didn’t look quite as menacing now as she and Stash skirted along the rocks and back to the sandy patch of ground. With his warm hand wrapped around her cold one, something tiny poked in the center of her chest – happiness – just a jab, but definitely there. Was it possible for her to put the past behind her? Marta shivered and soaked in the glimmer of hope for the future. She hadn’t been this close to life since the day she stared death in the face.
The overgrown path glowed with sunlight funneling through from the other end. The limbs, thick with foliage, curled down around like a giant ocean wave, disrupting the view of everything except the light at the end of the tunnel. Stash went through first to knock down any webs that may have appeared since they came through the first time. They were nearly to the end when he lurched to a stop.
“I saw something move up there.” Stash craned his neck to see what it was. “It’s probably just Rosko.”
With less than twenty feet to go, Marta lost her sandal and stopped to put it back on. That’s when it happened.
“Son of a bitch!” Stash stumbled forward onto the thick lawn at the end, choking and waving his hands through the air. “Stay back! It’s a skunk!”
The nasty perfume of Mr. Skunk twisted down the path and circled all around Marta.
“Please don’t tell me you were skunked!” She inched forward a few feet.
“Well, I can tell you I wasn’t, but that would be a lie – a very big lie.” He sniffed himself. “God! I smell awful!”
Marta bit her lip to keep from laughing. “Is it gone?” There was no way she was going to risk getting a dose of that.
Stash looked over his shoulder. “The tailless little bastard hit and ran,” he grumbled, taking off his rancid sweatshirt. “I’m burning this.” He held the sweatshirt out on the tips of his fingers. “Now what?” he said, looking at Marta like a lost child.
“Well,” she said, pinching her nose, “I can tell you one thing for sure. You’re not getting back in my car smelling like that.”
Not knowing what to do, Stash danced back and forth before nodding toward the house. “I’ll just have to get a bath.”
The gorgeous mansion glimmered in the sun like it had been splattered with pure gold, and the delicate ivy twirled its tendrils around the two smaller columns gracing the back entry. The closer they got, the more Marta doubted his decision to go in.
“I don’t know.” The thought of dragging his skunk laden belongings through the house terrified Marta. “What happens if it gets on something?”
“It won’t.” Stash tossed his sweatshirt in the outside fireplace and immediately began to strip down. “I’m going in commando.”
“You’re not serious.” Marta tried her best to sound appalled, but it didn’t work. “What if someone sees you?” Her heart missed a beat when he pulled down his jeans.
“We’re the only ones here.” He glanced over his shoulder and winked, sending a ripple of white hot straight through her. “I sent Jack home after he unlocked. It’s just me, you, and Rosko, and I don’t think Rosko’s gonna tell.”
He was about to take off his boxers when Marta squealed and turned her head. “I didn’t think you meant completely commando!”
Stash laughed. “I do all or nothing, beautiful. If it bothers you that bad, why don’t you strip down and join me?”
No amount of ribbing could get Marta to go that far, even if it did sound exciting. She put a hand over her eyes and waved him on ahead. “You go in. I’ll wait out here.”
The smell of skunk grew stronger and before she knew what was happening, Stash had her free hand, dragging her across the threshold.
“I need help with this, Marta. I can’t get this stuff off by myself.”
“But, I’m not …I can’t. I don’t know anything about bathing another person.” She stumbled forward over something in front of her.
“Open your eyes before you kill yourself.” Stash shoved her hand away from her eyes. “And I’m not asking you to bathe me. I just need you to see if you can find me some tomato juice in the kitchen. I can’t exactly go in there like this.”
Marta felt like an idiot. Of course he didn’t want her to bathe him. She wished she could drag the words back in and suffocate them. “Isn’t that the kitchen?” Marta glanced over her shoulder at the blur going by.
“Kitchen’s this way. That’s just the bar.” He veered her off to the swinging door on their left and slipped around the corner. “Anything with tomatoes!” His voice echoed from somewhere above her.
“Wow.” Marta stopped short at the sight of the magnificent kitchen. It was gourmet all the way with stainless steel appliances and countertops. “This sure beats the galley.”
Spotting the refrigerator, Marta forced herself back on target. “Where are you, tomato juice. Hmm,” she said, scouring the heavily stocked refrigerator. “Apparently not in here.”
Before the refrigerator door slapped shut, she was already delving into the cupboards. After a good ten minute search, she gave up and opened a can of tomato paste. Clutching the tiny can and a wooden spoon, Marta was determined to make the best of a situation that bordered on television-quality bizarre.
It wasn’t hard to find Stash. Marta simply followed the stench up the stairs and down the hall until she found the source of the running water. Looking up and down the hall, she tried to count the doors and lost track at eight. She felt like an intruder. Taking a deep breath, she rapped on the door, reverberating the quick knocks right back in her face and giving away her position.
“Stash?” Marta knocked again, louder this time. As illogical as it seemed, she had an intense urge to take cover in the bathroom.
“Come!”
The smell coming from the bathroom was something to be reckoned with. It was a disgusting combination of vanilla, pine and skunk – and the skunk was winning.
“Where are you?” Just by the way the running stream sounded as it
filled the tub, Marta knew he’d dumped a ton of bubble bath into the water. “I have tomato paste. That’s all I could find.”
Stash pulled back the shower curtain, sloshing a wave of green tinged bubbles down over the side of the tub. “That’ll have to do, I guess. Would you mind smearing some in my hair?”
Marta sighed and sat the can down on the edge of the tub. “This is truly the strangest request I’ve ever had. I’ve been asked to be best man at a wedding, I’ve been cornered with the demand to haul a complete stranger to Los Angeles, and I’ve had a new mother ask me to sniff her kid’s diaper to see if he’d pooped. All of that was strange, but this…this is just too weird.” She plopped a dollop of tomato paste on his head and began working it into his hair. “And the worst part is we don’t even know if this’ll work. You might stink just as bad as you did when you got in.”
“Or worse,” said Stash. “I’m thinking I should have stuck to the vanilla and lavender bubble bath instead of topping it off with a squirt of mountain fresh.”
“Good thing I have racks on the top of my van.”
Stash laughed. “I certainly hope you’re kidding.”
Rubbing harder, Marta worked the slimy, red mess down around the back of his neck. “Nope.”
“Then you’d better smear that stuff everywhere.” He held out his right arm, leaned back and closed his eyes. “And when you’re done with my arms, maybe you can work your way down.”
Slapping his hand away, Marta got another glop of tomato paste and threw it against his upper chest. “I go no farther than that.”
Stash shrugged. “You don’t know what you’re missing, beautiful.”
“Well,” she said, working vigorous circles under his chin, “maybe I don’t, but I think I’ll pass, just the same.”
He opened one eye and smiled up at her. “If I wasn’t so damn confident in myself, you could give me a complex. I’ve never met a woman so hard to tempt.”
Marta rolled her eyes, pretending to be annoyed. She’d never tell him just how much she liked hearing the silly little things he said to her. It was so much easier to decipher now that she was older and wiser. The sixteen year old Marta was oblivious until right before before it happened, and even then she didn’t realize just how powerful lust could be. She closed her eyes, desperately trying to get Kyle out of her head. Sometimes she saw him a hundred times a day. He was everywhere. Those were the bad days – the ones she had a primal instinct to turn from and run.