Unwanted Girl

by M. K. Schiller

He moved away from her then. He laid her head on the pillow and rolled to his side of the nightstand.

  “Why did you stop me?” she asked, disappointed she couldn’t finish what he started.

  “I didn’t. Your body stopped you. I just happened to be listening.”

  “Nick—”

  “Shyla, I don’t enjoy your discomfort.”

  He opened and shut the drawer. He rolled the condom on. He clasped her breast, slowly squeezing it, making her nipples harden. His tongue licked her left nipple while his thumb flicked over her right. He slowly sucked while she clutched his hair. And when she couldn’t stand it anymore, he reversed course.

  He shifted her to her side. “You have a beautiful back, do you know that?”

  She wasn’t sure how to answer, especially since she never gave much thought to her back. As if to emphasize the point, he traced her spine with his tongue.

  “It makes watching you go almost as hot as watching you come…almost.”

  She gasped as he penetrated her. His thrusts were slow, allowing her to get used to the new position. His hands caressed her front. They travelled lower until they reached her mound. His thumb circled her nub. Her mouth searched for his until their lips found each other. He drew farther out and pushed into her with a new force, leveraging his legs against hers, their bodies working in tandem.

  Their voices intermingled with the plains of passion, a symphony where they were the conductors building to that crescendo.

  “I love to worship this body,” he whispered in her ear, his fingers digging into her hips as she let go.

  When it was over, he kissed her shoulder, his warm breath washing over her skin, relaxing her and causing new sensations at the same time. She watched as he walked to the bathroom to discard the condom. The dim lamp provided just enough light to illuminate his muscular form.

  When he once again slid beside her, his arms wrapped around her. She turned around, leaned her chin against his chest, and stared at the outline of his face against the darkness.

  “Do you know one of the many things I love about your body?” she asked between kissing his chest. Although he could not see, she was sure he felt her playful smile as it pressed against his skin.

  “What?”

  She traced his lips with her tongue. “That beautiful muscle you possess. When it flexes, it causes two tiny dimples on your cheeks. It robs me of all coherent thought.”

  “You like my smile?”

  “I love your smile, Nick, but I was talking about your arse.”

  His hearty laughed echoed through the room.

  * * * *

  Dressed in his T-shirt, she carefully propped herself against the hard wooden headboard with one of his yellow legal pads and an ink pen. He slept soundly, his arm across her lap. She tried not to shift because she didn’t want to wake him or cause him to move. He always gravitated toward her, even in his subconscious.

  Nick preferred legal pads for writing and silver cross pens. “For those occasions when your thoughts come so fast, you need to freeze them,” he had said.

  Tonight her thoughts flew through the air, scattered as if they were frail leaves, hurdling without direction at the mercy of turbulent wind. She was unsure if this was the right ending, but every story had to conclude. And it was time to end…both stories. She wrote the words to the last chapter in her own writing, her fingers clasping the pen so hard her knuckles ached. It wasn’t a modern or comfortable way to write, but she wanted the cramps in her hands and the stiffness of her fingers—anything to distract her from the pounding ache in her heart.

  Chapter 29

  The Choice Less

  Asha was a childless mother and a disgraceful wife. She hadn’t borne him a son. He blamed her questionable origins as the source of why she was incapable of performing the duties of a woman. Her family concurred she was barren. She deceived them for a long time, carefully swallowing the white pills in the dark of night without the aid of water, and then hiding them inside the rip in the mattress. She was successful in her sham.

  Until that warm night she walked to the river after the recent rains. She heard his loud, crunching steps against the soft earth before she saw him. Her body immediately trembled. Aditi never came to the river.

  “Asha, dear wife, why do you always come here?”

  She kept her back to him, not wanting to show the fear on her face. “It’s peaceful.”

  His hand grasped her shoulder, his fingers digging roughly into her skin. “Look what my mother found today.” She turned her head, but she didn’t have to look to know what he was holding.

  “What are they, wife?”

  “Medicine.”

  “What ailments are you suffering from?”

  She swallowed, her head hung low as her eyes searched for weapons. There was nothing, not even a rock.

  “I’m waiting for your answer, sweet wife.”

  “Vitamins. They give me energy.”

  “Liar.” The accusation hung in the air, like a lead weight.

  “Husband, please—”

  She didn’t get a chance to finish the statement. He kicked her in the back. She tried to scream but no sound came out. He clutched the back of her head in his heavy hand and pushed her face into the water. Her mouth filled as she struggled against him. Her head pounded with pressure. Just as the pressure gave way to lightness, he pulled her out. His voice screamed words laced with rage. His face contorted into that of a monster’s. She couldn’t understand the statements he screamed at her.

  “You deceived me. Everyone is laughing, saying I’m infertile. Why did you do this?” His expression twisted with anguish. His eyes were wild. “Answer me, bitch.”

  For some odd reason only one phrase came to mind. And if she was capable of speech, she would have vocalized it. It was a girl and she was beautiful and she was ours! Her head plunged into the water again before she could even make sense of her thoughts.

  “You don’t provide a dowry and now not even a son. You are a useless woman, one that should have died a long time ago on this very river. I will correct the mistake today.”

  “No, please.” She flailed her arms, trying to find purchase on any object to keep her grip, but he was too strong.

  He pushed her head in again. Her lungs burned as if they were on fire. She forgot about holding her breath as the water filled her nostrils. She forgot about searching for a weapon or pleading for her life. She forgot about not swallowing the water into her lungs. She forgot she had lungs. She forgot about surviving.

  He grasped a fistful of her hair and pulled her out so quickly she couldn’t remember to spit out a lungful of water. He pushed his face into hers. “I gave you everything. Why did you shame my family this way?”

  She shook her head, unsure of the questions, and even more so of the answers.

  He spit in her face.

  He plunged her into the water once more. This time she didn’t fight.

  Her mind traveled to the lit corners of her safe places where her imagination could go freely, even if her body could not. Unlike the times before, she didn’t head to the Mississippi River to help a slave get his freedom. Or to Meryton in Hertfordshire near London to chat with Elizabeth Bennet. She didn’t journey to New England and later New York with Jo March. Instead, she traveled to a place she’d never been…one where a little girl with a huge dimpled smile held her hand and called her “Ma.”

  She went home.

  Chapter 30

  NYU’s commencement was at Yankee Stadium. The air didn’t smell like hot dogs and beer today, but of excitement and hope. There were no foul-mouthed fans waving foam fingers. Today, there was a sea of violet caps and gowns. The ceremony was long, the keynote address given by a famous actor and activist. It brought back memories of Nick’s past when he took the very same stage five years earlier as a jaded, cocky kid who believed the world owed him something. He’d learned the truth through hard lessons.

  He clapped loudly for her. In his hear
t, he’d dreaded this day for so long, but now he only felt hope. He thought about just asking her—spontaneously laying it out. Perhaps a wiser man would have hinted at such a huge step, tested the waters so to speak, but Nick wasn’t feeling particularly rational, especially not when it came to her. He wanted her to remember their engagement in a romantic sigh-worthy way. Out of left field, taken by surprise, and heart-pounding were phrases he hoped would capture the moment. Nick wasn’t particularly old fashioned, but he had concluded that a man shouldn’t propose to the woman he loved in a half-hearted way or without the benefit of a ring. His heart was completely full, and thanks to the fine jeweler’s of Tiffany & Company, he had a ring as well.

  No, a proposal would not be sincere without a ring, a grand gesture, and a heartfelt speech. So he had plotted the moment, carefully constructed like a major plot twist. He wouldn’t ask her today, though. Today was her day and hers alone. He would not steal even a second. The day he asked her to be his wife was their day, and it deserved its own mark on the calendar.

  He waited for her outside the stadium. The streets flooded with a sea of violet until the waves receded and there was just him. A tiny hint of panic set in, although he dismissed it quickly. He was being ridiculous. Even though he had convinced himself she was fine, he still breathed a sigh of relief when his cell rang with her number.

  “Where are you?”

  “Nick, I’m so sorry. A friend of my family’s came for my graduation. It was a surprise. He’s only in town for the night.”

  Him?

  “I know you made plans for us, but he wants to take me to dinner. Do you mind?”

  There was something in her pattern of speech that felt rehearsed, as if she was nervous to veer from her sentences. “Do you want me to join you?”

  “Actually, we’re already on our way to the restaurant. Nick, I’m so sorry. I wasn’t expecting him to show up.”

  Nick could take a hint. He wasn’t wanted. But something about this seemed suspicious. Then again, her family probably leaned toward the conservative side, so it made sense she wouldn’t want to combine her two worlds. That was his biggest fear about proposing in the first place, and the one setback he’d prepared for.

  “Will you come over tonight?”

  “It’s been a long day, and I’d like to get a good night’s sleep. Can we do something tomorrow? I promise I’ll make it up to you.”

  Nick let go of his pestering contemplation. He’d read too many mystery novels. Shyla had never given him a reason not to trust her.

  “Sure, sweetheart. I just wanted to be the first one to congratulate you.”

  “It meant so much to me that you were there today, more than you’ll ever know.”

  “I wouldn’t have missed it. I’ll see you tomorrow. Come over at eight.”

  “So late? I don’t work anymore. I can make it earlier.”

  Nick would have loved to spend the day with her, but he had many things to set up. There was no way their night wouldn’t be perfect.

  “Come at eight. I have some errands.”

  “Okay, I’ll see you then.”

  He tried to cancel their reservations at the five-star Indian restaurant in the vicinity, but their phone was busy. He walked to the exit to hop on the train back to midtown. He tried to keep his head occupied with his grand plans for tomorrow and not focus on the disappointment of her cancellation. He realized he was fairly close to the location in question and, as it happened, he was starving, so he walked in. They seated him in a back booth with plenty of privacy per his request. He studied the menu, wishing Shyla was there to help him order. In the end, he went for a fusion dish that featured a more Americanized version of a classic Indian plate.

  Nick wasn’t used to eating alone and, as a result, he hurried through his entrée and paid the bill quickly. On the street, he paused to admire a shiny Aston Martin parked at the curb. What his gramps would have called “a highfalutin’ machine.”

  The driver got out and opened the door, looking almost mechanical in his movements. He wore a cap and suit, and Nick had an urge to greet him with, “’Ello, governor.” He laughed, wondering if maybe he should rent a car tomorrow and take Shyla on a drive through the city at night. Maybe even a motorcycle. He hadn’t been on one since the accident, but the thought excited him. There was nothing like the power and freedom of riding a bike. His mind jerked back to the present when he heard her familiar laugh. The man who accompanied her was older with reddish hair and a stiff build.

  “Thank you, Rich,” he said to the driver in a noticeably British accent.

  “Where to now, sir?”

  “The lady and I would like to go to the lounge.”

  The rich bastard gestured for Shyla to get into the car first. She smiled graciously at him before entering the vehicle. If she had looked to her left, she would have seen Nick. But her eyes never veered.

  Nick’s first reaction was…what the fuck? By the time he regained his composure, the Aston Martin was speeding along the street.

  He knew the answers to his questions as soon as they entered his mind. This was all kinds of wrong. Shyla had never mentioned a family friend. And she came from a middle class Indian family in a village. It didn’t add up that her parents would be friends with a white, extremely wealthy British man, although some part of him realized he passed judgment where he shouldn’t. Because if he really analyzed their relationship, their backgrounds were vastly different, and yet they had become friends…best friends, actually. But there was also the fact the man had said they were going to The Lounge, which Nick knew was a chic martini bar on the East side. She had been nervous during their brief conversation. All of these thoughts rushed toward him as the D Train hurtled through the tunnels deep underground the city.

  He crammed them all down before he made a mistake and pushed her away. He’d ask her, but not tonight. Maybe tomorrow.

  Should he ask before or after he proposed?

  Will you marry me? Who was that guy? What’s going on? Nope, there wasn’t any natural rhythm to those questions. The whole thing pissed him off, so when he got home, he went for a jog around the city. He almost veered into her neighborhood, but he stopped himself. He wasn’t this petty, jealous man who showed up at his girlfriend’s house demanding answers to ludicrous questions.

  He told himself everything was fine. Today would not influence tomorrow. And tomorrow would be the beginning of a new chapter for them…unless she said no.

  Then it would be the end of them.

  Chapter 31

  She smiled brightly at him the next night when he opened the door. He wore a charcoal gray suit and a navy pinstriped tie.

  “You look so handsome. Are we going out? I didn’t know we were dressing up.”

  “No, we’re staying in…sort of. Don’t worry, you look perfect as always.” She wore dark jeans and a simple white tank top, but damn she looked sexy just the same.

  He took her messenger bag and set it inside before taking her arm and leading her to the stairwell.

  “I thought you said we were staying in.”

  He punched the up button. “We’re going to the roof.”

  He’d never taken her there. She’d asked him once how far into the city you could see. The building was on the shorter side, so it wasn’t too far, but he figured the privacy and open space would be the right backdrop for what he had in mind.

  He led her to the flat roof of the Bleecker Street building and mentally patted himself on the back when she gasped.

  Her eyes darted from one corner to the next. He stood, hands in his pockets, watching her.

  When Carrie and Tara found out what he was doing, they both wanted to be involved. Actually, they’d insisted. Nick complained they were taking things too far, but when he saw Shyla react with such awe, he silently thanked them.

  Tall shrubs planted in large stone urns stood along the parameter of the square space, each decorated with a string of white lights. Baskets of white tulips, hydr
angeas, and peonies stood at attention, their petals glowing against the moonlight. Flickering candles danced on top of a table built for two.

  “I can’t believe you did all this.”

  “I had help.”

  “It’s beautiful.”

  “Let’s sit,” he said, taking her hand and leading her to the table.

  “I’m starving. Did you make this?” she asked, staring at the vegetarian lasagna on her plate.

  “I got it from the Italian place around the corner, but I did take it out of their containers and arranged the food on my own plates. That has to count for something.”

  “It does. This is lovely. I hope this wasn’t what you were planning for yesterday. I’m really sorry.”

  He poured her a glass of wine. Each of her wrists gleamed with the glint of silver—one adorned with the cheap bangles he’d bought her and the other a watch.

  “It was for tonight. Is this new?” he asked, taking her wrist.

  “A graduation gift.”

  “From your friend?” The word friend came out much sharper than he’d intended.

  “Yes. Is something wrong?”

  “How was your dinner?”

  “It was nice.”

  “Can you extrapolate?”

  She gave him a confused smile. “Extrapolate?”

  “Just wondering how he became your family friend. I saw you last night. Ironically, we were at the same restaurant. I watched you leave with him. The explanation you gave was mysterious. He’s older than you, but not by much. He’s very rich, and you went to a bar afterwards. I trust you. I’m not the kind of man who shines suspicion where it doesn’t belong, and you’re not the kind of girl who would hurt me in that way, but I also need more information from you. I’m trying my best not to become a monosyllabic caveman, but I have to tell you, I’m losing the battle. So yeah, please extrapolate.”

  She took a deep breath. “I suppose I shouldn’t have said he’s a family friend. He’s my friend, Nick. The Charles Breckenridge organization sponsors schools in third world countries.”