“What are you saying? You don’t want me to visit you?”
Cees couldn’t decide whether she was surprised or relieved by the idea.
“I’m saying I’ll be Þ ne. You don’t need to feel obligated to come here. I’m tired. I think visiting hours are over with anyway.”
“You’re lying,” Cees said as she pushed herself forward and toward Arie’s bed. “You’re lying,” she repeated, dumbstruck by her realization.
“You need to leave.” Arie’s voice was calm but Þ rm.
Cees sat down in a chair and looked at her.
“Did you hear me? I want you to—”
Cees continue to stare. Whether Arie intended to say “leave”
or “go to hell,” the words never came. Cees stared until Arie closed her mouth and looked away.
“Do you know you look off to the left when you lie?” Cees asked. “You looked off to the left when you told me to leave, when you broke things off with me, and you’re doing the same thing now.”
“I’m not lying. I want you to leave. I’ll call the nurse if I have to.”
“You don’t have to do that. All you have to do is look me in the eye and tell me you want me to leave.”
Arie said nothing, glaring at the TV instead of at Cees. Cees snatched the remote up from the bed and turned the television off. She set the remote on the bed and leaned forward, her hand palm up as if inviting Arie to take it. Arie’s eyes looked glassy and Cees noticed that her Þ ngers had curled into white-knuckled
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Þ sts. Cees quickly sat back and removed her hands from Arie’s bed. The joy at her discovery receded. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you. I just…I just realized something, and I guess I got overzealous. Do you really want me to leave? I didn’t mean to scare you. Please look at me.” Arie’s eyes didn’t stray from the TV, but the loosening of her Þ sts gave Cees hope. “The last time we were together, you said some pretty hurtful things. I was afraid that if I continued to come here, you would say them again.”
“What did I say that hurt you?” Arie asked.
“You told me to leave.” Cees forced a smile in the hopes that Arie wouldn’t guess how devastated that request had left her.
Arie’s inhalation was audible, and Cees was unable to stop a tear that appeared and dropped before she could will it away.
Cees laughed and brushed roughly at her check and then wiped her hands on her pants.
“I’m sorry,” Arie said.
Despite the fact that Cees knew she didn’t remember all of what had been said, had no inkling of the pain Cees had gone through, a weight lifted from Cees’s chest. She placed her hand on the bed again. This time, Arie reached for it.
v
“Tell me what I did wrong. Let me Þ x this.” The voice resonated with pain and confusion. Arie fought against hearing it, but couldn’t escape. The voice was spoken in a tone so low that Arie couldn’t make out everything, but she didn’t need to understand all the words to know they were spoken in distress.
When the voice lightened, it should have brought relief, but didn’t. She could still hear the confusion. The pain was no longer as obvious, but it was there, hovering just below the surface. She will get over me. I know she will. It’s better this way.
“Hi, it’s me,” the voice said. “I just wanted to tell you that…” She paused, and Arie struggled to hear what she said next. “I’m sorry for…well…you know. And if you want it back…it
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was a dumb move and…if you ever want to talk…no pressure…
I’ll still…”
Arie cried out, and the voice went away. She was relieved until another voice bloomed in her head. This one didn’t make her cry; it made her angry. She was glad of the anger. Anger she could deal with.
“Stay out of my business,” she heard herself say.
“Then handle it better. Don’t just make her wonder what she did wrong.”
“I told her it wasn’t her fault. She didn’t do anything.”
“Yeah, she told me you said that right before you sent her packing. You really have no fucking clue, do you? You’re killing her. You went from loving her to kicking her out of your house.
How the hell is she supposed to move on if she’s still in love with you?”
“Arieanna, it’s me—Cees. You’re having a nightmare. Can you open your eyes?”
Arie gasped, reached out, and caught hold of something warm—yielding.
“Arie.” The voice was close to her ear, confused, sleep-clouded. She trembled. Sweat dripped down her temple. She remembered the hospital and that Arie was her name, and she remembered the voice crying. She closed her eyes, and ß ashes of light kept pace with the pounding in her head. She dug her Þ ngertips into her temple and pressed.
“God, it hurts.” The pain was too familiar. She had hauled herself from the nightmare by grabbing on to someone and pulling herself from the dream. “It hurts,” she whispered, hoping the nurse or whoever it was would just give her something to make the pain go away.
“Should I call someone?” Arie winced and turned away from the voice, then realized that it wasn’t more of the nightmare. Cees had Þ nally come to see her, and then she remembered how she
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had acted like a spoiled child. She tried to open her eyes to see, but tears blurred them.
“Cees?” she whispered.
“I’m here. Tell me what you need. How can I Þ x this?” The words sounded so helpless and scared. The nightmare, the voice, the one that had hurt so much to hear had been Cees’s. Arie pushed the memory of the voice away, pushed it so far away that even the pain from the migraine couldn’t reach it.
“I thought you left me.”
“I fell asleep in the chair. Arie, I need to get a nurse for you,”
Cees said softly near her ear. “They don’t know I’m still in here.
If they make me leave, I’ll come back tomorrow, okay? I promise I’ll come back, but I need them to get you something.”
“Don’t leave.”
“If they let me, I’ll come back in. Otherwise I’ll be here after work, okay?”
“It’s just a migraine.” Arie tried to open her eyes. All she could see was Cees’s outline hovering over her. Cees’s left hand was holding hers while her right was stroking the side of her face.
Arie leaned into it and closed her eyes.
“It seems bad.” Perhaps it was the hour, perhaps she was imagining the depth of concern in Cees’s voice. But hearing it, knowing it was there felt better than any medication she could take.
“I’ve gotten them since I woke up. The stuff they’ll give me makes me sleep.”
“I’d rather you slept than hurt.”
“Okay,” Arie relented. Not because the pounding in her head had gotten so bad that she actually needed the medicine, but because she needed time to explore her thoughts on Cees.
“They aren’t going to like the fact that I was in here after hours, but I’ll be back tomorrow.” Cees repeated the promise, but Arie couldn’t answer, caught off guard by a wave of nausea so intense she was seconds from asking Cees to help her to the
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restroom so that she could vomit. Arie felt Cees’s Þ ngertips on her temple and then her breath fanning her damp brow. She thought for a moment that Cees was going to kiss her, and she felt herself tense.
“Okay?” Cees asked again.
“Yes,” Arie said softly, and the shadowy Þ gure hesitated and then was gone. The door opened and Arie hoped that Cees would turn around and look at her. Arie caught a glimpse of disheveled hair, jeans, a polo shirt tucked neatly into belted jeans before the closing door blocked her view. Arie lay blinking at the darkness, the hammering in her chest outpacing the one in her head.
v
“He
y, you sure you’re up to doing this right now? You look a little out of it.”
If the question had been asked by anyone other than Philly Panadara, Cees would have made light of her sleepless night. But Philly wasn’t just her construction lead, he had been her father’s crew leader. Cees had known him all her life. Philly would know a brush-off when he heard it.
“I’ve was at the hospital visiting a sick friend yesterday, and I’m afraid I didn’t sleep much last night.”
“I can see that. Looks like Edith had to use a pot of makeup on the luggage under your eyes alone.” Philly sighed and leaned back in his chair, exposing his rounded belly and the straining buttons on the front of his plaid shirt. “You know I think of you as family. Your dad would want me to make sure you were okay, so if there is anything I can do for you, anything at all, you let me know. That goes for your friends too.”
The sincerity in Philly’s voice made Cees want to crawl into his lap and cry like she had when she was six and had been scolded by her father for wandering too far out of sight on a job site.
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“That really means the world to me, Philly.” Cees looked down at the table until she was convinced that her eyes wouldn’t Þ ll and then back at Philly. “Work is the only thing that is keeping me sane right now, but I’ll let you know if I need to hash it out with someone. You mentioned something about changing the doors?”
“Yeah, I was saying if we used one glass door instead of double, we don’t have to worry about blocking this egress. We would also get the added beneÞ t of more sunlight in the master bedroom.”
Philly pointed to a spot on the blueprints. Cees nodded and tried to focus her eyes where his Þ nger rested on the paper. She told herself to concentrate on what Philly was saying, but her vision had blurred with more unshed tears. Philly’s baritone faded into the background as once again, against her will, she remembered.
v
Light, nickel-plated and cool, settled cautiously on the ravaged bed covers. The scent of their lovemaking hung in the air and on her lips. If she had cared to guess, Cees would have placed the time close to noon on Sunday. From the moment Arie’s Þ ngers had slipped into her body to the moment her muscles had reluctantly released them, she had stopped questioning time or date. Cees lifted Arie’s hand, and almost as if she had been asked, Arie spread her Þ ngers so that Cees might slide her own between them. Cees held their entwined hands aloft, staring at the contrast, loving the way her larger, lighter one Þ t just over Arie’s smaller, darker hand. She straightened her Þ ngers, and Arie did the same.
Cees’s were longer, but not by much.
“How come you never get as pale as I do?” Cees’s voice was still thick from their lovemaking and soft from the secret desire not to disturb the air around them.
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“My mother’s parents came here from Brazil. I must have inherited my skin tone from her,” Arie said, turning her palm toward Cees’s and lowering their hands onto the bed.
“I should have been able to guess that.” Cees pulled their clasped hands up between her breasts so that she could continue to look at them. She liked the way their Þ ngers folded together.
A puzzle completed.
“Why would you have been able to guess something like that?”
“Because you even sound like you have the remnants of some sort of an accent.” She could have gone on; she could have mentioned how Arie’s skin had that luxurious copper tone that didn’t require lying out in the sun. Although Arie and she shared a similar hairstyle—the classic ponytail, Arie’s hair was thick and the darkest Cees had ever seen. Anytime Cees fantasized making love with Arie, it started with digging her Þ ngers into Arie’s hair.
Arie laughed. “My mother’s parents—whom I never knew, by the way—were from Brazil, not me.”
Cees wanted to leap into that opening, wanted to know everything about Arie’s parents and grandparents. Starting with the question of why Arie never spoke of them, but she knew from past attempts that she had to tread carefully.
“And where are you from? I don’t think you ever told me,”
she asked and immediately regretted it. Arie’s languid muscles stiffened, and Cees closed her eyes. Why did she have to insist on knowing everything now? What difference did it make if Arieanna was reticent to talk about her family? Arie was here with her now.
Why couldn’t that be enough? It wasn’t as if she had any family to speak of either. Yes, but you’ve told her everything there is to know about your father. Just like Lilly said, family is everything, and if she won’t talk about hers…
“I was raised in Seattle.” Arie spoke as if the words were being pried from her with a crowbar.
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“I Þ gured as much after you told me your grandfather’s lawyers were there.” Cees sat up on one elbow and frowned down at Arie. It wasn’t just the slight lilt of an accent that confused her. “Arie, why don’t you ever talk about your parents or your grandfather?”
“There’s nothing to talk about. I didn’t know either of them.
My father died just before I was born, and my mother died in a car accident soon after. I spent most of my school years in boarding schools in Europe. My grandfather was too busy to deal with a kid. We don’t all have happy childhoods, Cees. Mine was better than most. I had a roof over my head and clothes on my back. I had what I needed.” Arie spoke as if she were trying to convince herself as well as Cees.
“Sweetheart, I am so sorry.” Cees rolled over until she was on top of Arie.
“I don’t want to go down there tomorrow. I felt bad when he died, but he kept himself separate from me all my life. When I was a kid, the only way I could make myself feel better about him avoiding me was by convincing myself that something made him scared to love me. For a long time I thought there was something wrong with me that made it hard to love me.”
“I love you.” Cees held Arie’s face in her hands until the distant look dissipated. “I love you, and I always always will.
You believe me, don’t you?”
“Yes, I believe you.” It wasn’t the smile or the kiss Cees had hoped for, but it was better than the anxiety.
“Maybe you should call the lawyers back. Tell them you’ll need to come down next weekend so I can go with you.”
“No, I should go, get it over with. Do we have to talk about this now? I just want us to be happy together. Who cares about yesterday or tomorrow? I just want now.”
If Arie’s obvious panic wasn’t alarming enough, the look in her eyes frightened Cees into action. “Shh, baby, we don’t have to talk about it,” she said and she pushed the doubts, both Lilly’s
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and her own, from her mind. The only thing that mattered was that they loved each other, that they would have a lifetime of living in each other’s arms.
Cees kissed Arie softly. There was something about being kissed with little to no pressure that drove Arie nuts. It was as if she felt that Cees was teasing her. Arie’s hand went to the back of Cees’s neck, forcing Cees to increase the pressure.
Cees intended to move slowly, to soothe away the fear she had unwittingly caused. But the feel of Arie’s satin skin beneath her and the way Arie’s thighs fell apart when Cees settled on top of her caused her to forget her good intentions.
Cees moaned and arched into the vee created by Arie’s legs.
They stared at each other for a long moment, and almost as if choreographed, Arie turned her head and Cees feasted on the pulse at Arie’s neck. Arie pulled Cees closer, her hips rotating in the slow circles that meant she was already close. Cees moved so quickly that Arie barely had time to utter a moan of protest before Cees buried her nose and then her tongue in a sea of moisture, happily drowning herself in Arie.
Arie sank her Þ ngers into Cees’s hair, her wor
k-shortened nails scraping at Cees’s scalp. Cees edged her shoulders between Arie’s legs, spreading her wide and then imprisoning Arie’s clitoris with her love-swollen lips so her tongue could begin its slow torture.
Arie’s harsh breathing was now a cry, and Cees yearned to hear it peak and go just beyond real control, but she dreaded it too because it would mean she would have to stop, and eventually the taste and the smell of the woman beneath her faded.
The next time, no matter how soon, was never soon enough.
Arie was calling Cees’s name now, which meant she was too close to stop. Cees opened her eyes to see Arie’s bronzed, lean body arching off the bed. The pose was almost artistic. Her back was arched and every muscle was tense and perfectly still, then a loud gasp escaped Arie as the orgasm struck. Cees continued to hold Arie in her mouth until she felt her body become boneless.
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Finally, Cees rested her face on Arie’s hip and closed her eyes, unwilling to lose the connection just yet. Much to her own surprise, she felt too shy to look at Arie for fear she would see how much these moments meant to Cees.
She felt Arie’s hand beneath her armpit seconds before she found herself ß at on her back, looking up into Arie’s black olive–
colored eyes.
“I—” Cees said and stopped because she didn’t know what she was going to say. “You don’t have to—” she said, but cut herself off as Arie glared at her. Was she angry? Why? “Arie, did I do something—”
Arie cut her off with a kiss so full of passion that heat ß ushed through her. Arie was the Þ rst to pull away, but she was breathing hard, and for the time being, the tension was gone.
“A lifetime wouldn’t be long enough for me to get enough of you, would it?” Cees asked.
Arie’s eyes clouded. She looked like she wanted to say something, but Cees couldn’t resist the temptation of Arie’s parted lips and kissed her. This time she wasn’t gentle, and the increase in Arie’s heartbeat told her she didn’t want her to be. Cees’s hand was covering Arie’s breast, and she was already thinking about Arie’s lips when she felt strong, work-roughened hands on her ass. Even though she had watched Arie methodically rub hand cream into them nightly, she could not prevent the calluses from scraping gently at Cees’s bottom. Cees deepened the kiss, no longer trying to drive Arie crazy and temporarily forgetting her plan of action. Arie had spread her legs and pushed the down comforter off both of them so that the sun was hitting Cees’s rear.
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