Flashback

by Dawn Carter

  ●●●

  The next morning, Spencer winced several times while trying to straighten out her legs. When she looked at the half-made bed to her left, she frowned. Natalie was nowhere in sight, her belongings, which usually sat neatly on the bedside table, were also gone.

  Even if Spencer had wanted her to stay and work it out, it would not have happened. Spencer had already faced the reality that her mind, heart, and soul were wrapped up in the mysterious woman from her dreams.

  “It’s better this way.”

  There was no reason to dwell on what she could not change. The answers were out there, and she was going to find them.

  Time to get ready, she mused, trying to focus her tired eyes. It took several attempts to read the illuminated numbers on the digital clock. “Shit, I’m late!” She tripped over scattered shoes, landing in a loud thump. “Fuck!”

  The second she entered the bathroom, her heart sank. A single word was written in red lipstick on the mirror; ‘Goodbye.’ There was only one toothbrush in the cup, the bottles of perfume were gone, and the distinct pink bottles of shampoo and conditioner had been thrown in the trash.

  Spencer looked at her reflection in the mirror. The soft tissue surrounding her brown eyes was swollen. Her black hair was disheveled, and she looked exhausted—more than she had in days past. The dreams were affecting her health, and if she didn’t get the answers soon, she would end up in hospital.

  ●●●

  It was the end of another long week. Spencer threw her keys on the table and slumped into her favorite armchair. She stared down at the band on her finger. A single tear welled in her eye, but it was a photograph that caused the tears to burst Spencer’s dam of restraint. She clutched the solid wooden frame tightly in her hand, able to see her own ghostly reflection in the thin sheen of glass that covered it. She looked past her own dreary eyes and stared upon Natalie’s face, caught in a moment of perfection. It had been a happy day when she’d first admitted she had feelings for Natalie, and asked her to be hers. Her gaze focused on Natalie’s eyes, glistening with the twinkle of laughter that she’d once loved. Now, they laughed at her. They reminded her of what she had lost. Doubt sat at the edge of her consciousness. She clutched the frame tightly, pressing it hard to her breasts, wishing she could rest her head upon Natalie’s shoulder one last time.

  It was at that moment that Spencer realized she no longer knew how she felt. She was numb, yet somehow in agony. She longed to be free of the chains that were binding her. She found herself second guessing everything. Just then, Natalie’s voice rang in her mind. ‘If you keep pushing me away, one day I will leave and never come back.’

  “I hope I did the right thing.” Since the day Natalie had left, Spencer had worked long hours trying to block out the reality of her personal life. She was reluctant to ask herself if it was really over between her and Natalie. Now, alone in her sorrow, with her own thoughts, she was faced with the reality of her choices. For the first time in her life, she found herself alone. The quiet of the apartment consumed her frail form. Her mother wasn’t there to soothe her fears, nor was her father, who would tell her stories to make her feel better. It was just her, alone in the loft, the same loft Natalie had found for her, using her resources as a real-estate agent to get Spencer the best deal.

  Soon after she had moved into the loft, the dreams returned. Deep inside, Spencer knew it was so much more—it was the constant images that consumed her mind. Had she really lived a life before this one? If so, why did she feel so isolated from the memory? Yet, at the same time, the bronze beauty of her dreams was all she could think about.

  Pen in hand, she sat upon the ledge overlooking the city, and spied on the rushing traffic. Everyone seemed to be in a hurry to get somewhere, yet all Spencer wanted was for the world to stop and give her answers.

  Dear Diary.

  I’m so confused. I don’t know if I made the right decision or if I fucked up. I don’t know what to think anymore. It’s been four days since Nat left, and I’ve not heard anything from her. Deep down, I know it’s for the best, but today would’ve been our second year anniversary. I figured she would have called me by now. I can’t believe she just walked away and left things like this. Who does that?

  I’ve called her seven times and she’s not called me back. Maybe I should’ve left a message. I wanted to, but I didn’t know what to say. Now, I wonder if I had, if she would have called me back.

  I hate this. I cared about her so much, but I know I hurt her and she didn’t deserve it. I’m all fucked up, and she deserves better than a psychologically messed up woman.

  Last night, it occurred to me, I don’t think I was in love with her. I don’t know if it was because she pissed me off for acting jealous of the woman from my dreams, or what.

  What’s wrong with me? From the moment I met her, she did everything to make me happy. She even helped turn the loft into a home of hope, and we did build a lot of wonderful memories together.

  Grr, now I’m starting to get pissed off. What’s wrong with me? I can’t seem to keep a healthy relationship with anyone. Every time anyone tries to get close to me, I either break up with them, or push them away. Natalie was the closest thing I’ve had to normal in my life, and I blew it. She was honest with me and never once lied. I just couldn’t let her in.

  Oh well, it is what it is. Tomorrow’s a new day, and I’ve got regression therapy. I’m hoping we can find out more this time. For now, I will close this day out.

  Setting the journal down, Spencer glared at the phone on her nightstand. Rolling her eyes, she stood, slid on the joggers and t-shirt that were draped over the back of the chair, and sat on the bed. She reached for her running shoes, but instead she shook her head, pulled her hand back, kicked her legs up, and rested her back against a pillow. Not tonight. She looked at her fingers, admiring her nails, shiny and clear, just as she liked them.

  Spencer gazed at her left ring finger and then her right. She thought about getting a tattoo, maybe with the word “Love” on her index finger, most likely the left one. “It’s not like I’m ever going to get married.” The closest she had gotten was with Natalie, and that had failed miserably. Letting out a hearty laugh, she remembered the day they’d met. Spencer had been out with her work colleagues. She had excused herself to use the bathroom, and struck up a conversation with a beautiful, five-foot-seven, blue-eyed blonde woman. They had spent more time in the bathroom than they should have, talking, but Spencer had not wanted it to end. They had introduced themselves, Spencer learning that the woman’s name was Natalie.

  Several women had walked into the small space, laughing. Spencer had shot them an irritated glance over her shoulder for interrupting. She turned back to Natalie. “If I give you my card, will you call?” Spencer handed her a business card, hoping she would not only call, but also join her at the bar. Instead of a response, Natalie nodded, gave a shy smile, and left.

  When Spencer had rejoined her friends, she saw Natalie sitting at a table with a man. Inwardly laughing, Spencer sat at the next table, with her back to Natalie, a martini in hand. She smiled and glanced over her shoulder several times to see what Natalie was doing, but the last time she’d looked, the table was empty.

  A few moments later, her cell phone buzzed, and a number she didn’t know flashed on the screen. She was going to click the ignore button, but something told her to answer. When she said hello, an angelic voice replied.

  Holding her hand up, to silence the chatter, Spencer raised her brow, smiling to her friends. “Well, hello there.” She listened to the nervous Natalie expressing how she could not leave without asking her out for coffee. Eager to taste the forbidden fruit, Spencer had agreed to meet with her the following Monday for lunch.

  “Is that the woman you met in the bathroom,” Jennifer had asked, poking fun at her. The corner of Spencer’s lip curled as she nodded, and the group of women laughed in unison.

  Puckering her lips, Tameka had teased, “Gir
l, you got it going on.”

  “Yeah, yeah.” Spencer wiggled her eyebrows while sipping on her martini. Taking another gulp, she huffed, “Okay girls, I’ve got to get home.” As she was about to stand, she heard a familiar voice. When she turned, Natalie was standing two feet away from her, smiling.

  “May I pick up your broken heart and mend it back together?” Reading her lips, that’s what Spencer thought she had said. Of course, she knew that was the alcohol. What Natalie had said was, “Hello, I was in my car, and decided to come back in. I wondered if you would let me buy you a drink before I go.” All Spencer could do was smile.

  The group of women stood back and watched the relationship unfold.

  It had been great while it lasted, Spencer mused. She reminded herself that if she had stayed with Natalie, there would have been no future, no white gold diamond ring, no wedding, and no children. Her mind focused back on the woman from her dreams. The anxiety she’d felt seconds before melted away.

  Her eyes stung from lack of sleep. It was Friday night, but Spencer had no desire to go out; instead, she decided a well-deserved nap was needed. The nights had been tough. Most of the time, sleep had evaded her, leaving her feeling like an empty shell, each noise echoing through her.

  As her eyes closed, the room went dark, even though it was still well before sundown. She could feel herself falling into a deep sleep. From the dark, the buzzing of her phone on the table pulled at her—she tried to reach for her ever trusty “tech companion,” but couldn't move. She was past exhaustion. It didn’t matter who was trying to call her at that moment. She gave into sleep.

  Chapter 3

  Under the starlit sky, the two lovers held on tightly to one another. Tenderly, with the tips of her fingers, Anai caressed her way down Yiara’s torso. Breaking the kiss, she lowered her head to take a nipple into her mouth, sucking gently, nibbling lightly. Yiara’s hands buried into Anai’s long, black hair, pulling her head closer, wanting to take more of her into her mouth, but Anai resisted, choosing instead to continue teasing. Yiara tried to muffle her moans, but her body ached, and soon her desire got louder as her arousal continued to build.

  Anai’s hand reached down and began to tease Yiara between her folds as her tongue and teeth continued pleasuring her lover’s right breast. That was all Yiara could take. The building orgasm flowed slowly at first, until Anai impaled her trembling body with her fingers.

  Breathlessly, Yiara whispered, “Don’t stop.”

  Driving two fingers deep inside, Anai moved skillfully until Yiara gasped and cried out, “Oh yes, Anai, that feels so good,” encouraging her to move inside her faster and deeper. Anai’s fingers were coated with thick juice as they drove further in, the wetness making a sucking sound as she pulled out. Lost in euphoria, Yiara continued thrusting her hips onto Anai’s hand.

  Anai moved up and covered Yiara’s mouth with hers to muffle her screams as her fingers slid even deeper, filling her body completely, causing it to convulse. At first, Yiara coiled, then released as the orgasm continued for several minutes, her breathing rapid and gasping. Once it subsided, Yiara’s limbs remained still, the muscles pulsing against Anai’s fingers still deep inside her. With each withdrawal of fingers, another ripple of spasms spread through her, until she was finally limp.

  Pulling Anai up, cupping her hips, and pressing her pubic bone hard against her own, Yiara sighed. “My heart soars, and my body demands more of you, my Queen.”

  “Your Queen? I am no such thing. I am your chamber-maid, and my body is yours.”

  “You are more than my chambermaid.” Yiara’s tone became serious. “You rule by my side.”

  “You are…” she muffled when she heard someone in the room. Covering Yiara’s mouth with her hand, she whispered. “Someone’s hiding in the dark.”

  “Who’s there?” Yiara called out. There was no answer, but several moments later, they heard footsteps running from the room.

  ●●●

  A knock at the door startled Yiara. She spun around and gazed upon Anai as she walked in, her head down, trying to hide the trails of tears along her bronze cheeks.

  “What is wrong?” Yiara ran to her side, taking the slender hand in her own.

  “He knows about us. I am being sent away.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “The King has just ordered me to leave the palace and never return.”

  “It’s because of the love we share. I will not let him send you away.”

  “It’s done. I leave before the moon rises.”

  “I will not let him take you from me.”

  Anai lowered her head and turned her gaze to the door as it creaked open.

  “The King wants you to join him in his chambers, my Queen,” Tiran, the king’s guard, said softly, keeping his eyes fixed on the ground.

  Looking to Anai, Yiara pointed to the balcony for her to wait until she returned. Yiara allowed the guard to escort her. As soon as they reached her father's chamber, the servant quickly left. She knocked nervously, then entered when he bellowed for her to come in. Keeping tradition, she bowed her head and stretched out her arms in the respectful position.

  “Rise, my daughter,” he said lovingly, lifting his hand and gesturing gracefully to the chair next to his.

  For a brief second, she hesitated. “Yes, Father?”

  He turned to her. “Daughter, you are seventeen years of age. You are a woman, and your beauty stuns easily the hardest of hearts. Though you are still young, you are mature and ready to give me an heir. I am sure you will step readily into the new position you are destined for.”

  Her eyes widened. “Father? What do you mean? I am Queen already, what do you mean by new position?”

  The King cleared his throat, looking down upon his defiant daughter. He spoke in a deep voice. “My brother, Prince Ahmose, has asked again for you as his bride, and I have given you to him. You will marry him in upon the eve of the opening year.” Once he was finished, he immediately averted his gaze.

  Yiara gasped. “Ahmose! You promised me to him? Father, no, I will not marry him.”

  “It is already done; you will marry him, and you will give me an heir to the throne.”

  “But, father, I cannot marry him! Please, don't make me. You know what he’s like.” Her eyes filled with tears as she leant down to the floor in front of him.

  The King sighed. “Yes, Daughter, I know what he is like. There will be no discussion. My health is failing, and we need a strong hand as an alliance. We need him as an ally, and he knows this.” He looked sadly at his daughter. Yiara knew the weaker her father was becoming, the more urgent their present situation became, but she was sure she could convince him she was strong enough to rule the kingdom alone.

  Yiara shook her head. “No, father, never. I will not marry him. I don't care what it means to you. This is my life!” Distraught, Yiara ran from her father’s chambers. The most recent memory she had of the cruel man, Ahmose, was when she was no older than ten. He’d cornered her in the Palace garden and forced a kiss upon her. When she’d refused to obey him, he’d slapped her and said she was a mare, and lacked discipline. Yiara had no idea what he meant, and had run off crying. She’d stayed in her chamber for the rest of his stay in the palace.

  There would be no marriage. Yiara would rather die than be forced to marry him. Her father had left her no other option; she would take Anai and hide until the moon rose high in the night sky, and then run far away from the kingdom. They would lose the lavish lifestyle, but none of that mattered to her if Anai was not part of her life.

  By the time she reached her chamber, the door was open, but Anai was nowhere to be found. Yiara ran to the balcony when she heard a familiar scream. Yiara watched as Anai fought hard, trying to free herself from captivity, but her struggle was in vein. The guards forced her onto the back of the mule. Yiara screamed, all the while extending her arm out, trying to reach for her, tears staining her face as she watched.

  Sitti
ng in a cradled position, Yiara looked into the gilded mirror, holding it up to her face. Her large, brown eyes, swollen and red, her small nose, sore and chapped, and her rosebud mouth trembled. In a fit of anger, she smashed the golden mirror against the hard surface of the bathing pool. It bounced off the corner and flew across the floor. Yiara slowly walked up to it, sand crunching under her feet. Looking down, she could see her face reflected but grossly distorted where the mirror was dented in. Would he still want to marry her if she was not beautiful? Curling her top lip, she crouched down and grasped a piece of broken stone, and raised it up until it was barely an inch from her soft cheek. She squeezed her eyes shut and took a deep breath. This is going to hurt...

  “Yiara! Stop! What are you doing?”

  She gasped and dropped the glass as wiry arms seized her and lifted her up from the floor.

  “Put me down! I order you, put me down!”

  The second her feet sunk into the sand, she angrily spun around and faced her attacker. A gasp escaped her. “You!”

  Ahmose bowed, with a mocking smile on his lips.

  “At your service, Highness.”

  She slapped his face and spat, “I will have you buried alive, you impertinent rat! How dare you come into my chambers unannounced and touch me!”

  He stared at her, his cold, golden eyes narrowed. “I am your intended, Highness, and you will treat me with respect. I have come to collect you to take you to my palace.” He clapped his hands, and two guards entered the room.

  Spinning around, ready to fight off anyone else who dared to touch her, she snarled, “What is the meaning of this? I did not call you to my chambers.”

  “I knew you would never come willingly, so I have brought some...help.” The corner of his mouth curled up, sending chills down her spine.