A Taste of Utopia

by L. Duarte

  “Pity I can’t say the same about you. In fact, I never heard your name until the news of this absurd wedding,” he says without omitting the displeasure in his voice. His hand remains unmoving along his body.

  “Well, I do believe I owe you an explanation,” Seth offers, dropping his hand. The muscles across Seth’s shoulders appear ready to snap. To his credit, he maintains a level head, and his eyes remain on Dad’s.

  Admiration for my husband floods my chest, bubbling with warm fuzzy feelings.

  Dad comes from a lineage of great men. He is intimidating. He is arrogant. He is egotistical. He knows his place in this world. Along with the pedigree he inherited, Dad has a sense of entitlement, and a superiority complex.

  “Damn right, you do. And I intend to collect.” Dad’s voice is glacial and all sharp angles like an iceberg sticking out of the ocean. His stare is as bone chilling as an arctic wind.

  “Uh, Dad, can we talk about this some other time? Let’s not upset Mom during lunch.” There’s a long pause in which he continues staring down Seth. Seth doesn’t flinch. I’m in awe of him.

  “You’re right, darling,” he finally agrees and smiles, his face possessing the levity of someone who doesn’t have a care in the world. It always puzzled me how Dad can flip an internal switch on his emotions.

  We circle the table. I forgo my usual seat next to Dad in favor of sitting between Seth and Jake.

  Mom and Granny serve a crab salad and cold chicken sandwiches for lunch. We exchange pleasantries as we eat.

  Grandpa leads the conversation with his easygoing personality and funny jokes. What I love the most about him is how he amuses himself. He often laughs at his own jokes. His exuberant and jovial demeanor is contagious. Within the hour, Seth eyes him with a glint of admiration that warms my heart.

  The usual disdain Dad offers Jake, today he extends to Seth. I resent Dad for his indifference to Jake. He shuns his one and only grandchild. All because he never accepted or forgave Caleb for marrying Luna.

  I love the man to death, but Dad is bigoted and intolerant. He thinks we’re superior to other humans. To him, bloodline, tradition, and the color of the skin, are absolutes. Subsequently, not even money can equal lineage.

  Take Chloe for instance. Her father has amounted a massive fortune. They have gazillions more money than we do. However, because her dad is self-made, my dad doesn’t deem him worthy of respect.

  “What’s your profession, son?” Grandpa asks Seth, snatching me out of my reverie.

  “Sales,” Seth responds after taking a sip of Chardonnay.

  “What kind of sales?”

  “Men’s clothing. Mainly intimate apparel.”

  “What, exactly, is your position?” Granny inquires.

  “Marketing. But I do administrative work when needed,” Seth responds.

  His answer is evasive. He omitted the name of the company, and the fact that he is one of the owners. Seth has this mystery about him. Although he always presents himself as genuine, there is always a shadow surrounding him. No, it’s like a cloak of mystery covering secrets. The bummer is: I can’t put my finger on the cause.

  “Hey, little man, you done?” Seth asks Jake.

  “Yep. Can we watch Dragon Tales now?” Jake asks.

  “If it’s okay with your grandma.”

  “Yeah, sure. He’s been dying to watch the show,” Ana says, turning to Jake. “Just one episode, hun.”

  “Okay, Grandma.”

  “Let’s go then, buddy.” Seth stands and stretches his hand out to Jake.

  I can’t understand why, but Seth looks at Jake in a very peculiar way. Does he have children, and Jake reminds him of them? Perhaps he wants children, and Jake triggers the thoughts. But it’s useless to speculate, I guess.

  Before they leave, I say, “I’ll help Mom clean up and then I’ll join you.”

  “Okay,” Seth says, leaning in and pecking a kiss on my head. Then he leaves holding Jake’s hand as if they were lifelong friends.

  Mom’s eyes sparkle with delight as she watches them leave. Dad’s eyes could poke a hole in Seth’s back.

  “Your husband appears to be a decent man, Lottie,” Grandpa says.

  “Don’t be absurd. We just met the man,” Dad grumbles.

  “A decent character is easy to detect. Especially nowadays, when it’s so scarce.” Grandpa turns to me and asks, “Everything ready for law school?”

  Grateful for the change in subject, I proceed to give a rundown of my academic life.

  Seth

  LIFE IS A MEAN bitch, and the world is not nearly as big as I had thought.

  I study Jake’s profile as he slides the DVD inside the player. “Do you like Dragon Tales?” he asks.

  “Don’t know, little man. Never watched.”

  “My dad loves it. Mom says it’s because he’s two. But he’s not two. He’s older than me, and I’m four.” He puts up four fingers.

  “What’s your mama’s name?” I hold my breath. Some masochistic side of me wants to hear it from him.

  “Luna. It means moon.”

  I swallow hard and rub my clammy hands over my shorts. Thousands of black spots cross my eyes. I sink into the couch.

  Jake slides next to me. With his feet hanging off the oversized sofa, he leans on me and finds a comfortable position to watch the show.

  I want to wrap my arms around his shoulder and hug him to my side. Hell, what I really want is to cry. In my wildest dreams, I never thought this would happen.

  Luna was part of my past. She died to me the same day I died to her. Yet, here I am, sitting right beside her flesh and blood.

  I study him. His mane of blond hair and eyes are like mine, which in turn are like Luna’s father’s. The genetic pool keeps physical traits well and alive. Jake reminds me of a younger version of myself. But what overwhelms me the most is his name. Luna named him after me. The notion that I meant that much to her is humbling, daunting, frightening even. An onslaught of thoughts rush through my mind, making me dizzy.

  The past is finally catching up with me. I have a feeling I won’t be able to outrun it any longer.

  I fix my gaze on the screen as my mind goes back to before I died.

  Luna was everything I had. She was more than just my cousin. She was my moon, my sun, my best friend but most importantly, she was my savior. Because of her, I didn’t end up in a body bag or get my ass locked up in jail.

  Luna came into my life after Uncle Simon died.

  Because of Luna, I learned what love was. She was the perfect definition of unconditional love. We became inseparable. It was her and me against the world. A small world composed of a drug addict for a mother, an abusive fucker for a father, and an empty belly at the end of the day.

  Memories I tried to gouge out of my mind stomp through my head like an untamed herd of bulls hurtling down a ravine.

  My stomach coils and lunch threatens to come up. Images I thought I had purged resurface. They stab, burrow, and twist, causing a lifetime of pain to flare up.

  Luna has been my hero ever since the day she killed my dad.

  Disordered and muddled snapshots of the last time I saw Dad run through my head.

  I hear the hiss of Dad’s panted breath behind my ear. My nostrils fill with the stench of cheap liquor, rancid sweat, and stale cigarettes. I feel the pain of when Dad’s fingers sank on my hips, bruising my skin and charring my soul. I remember the hard ramming of his pelvis on my back, rattling me down to my bones. Echoes reverberate in my head from the blows of his fist on my ear. I still hear the crackling sound of my ribs when my chest caved under the steel toes of his beige boots. I feel the bite of his belt on my skin. I smell the putrid stench of urine as he pissed on me.

  Then, the merciful veil of unconsciousness shrouds me.

  Two days later, I woke up in a hospital. A psychologist told me of Dad’s fate. Luna had killed him with a baseball bat. She cracked his head open. Dad would never rape me again.

  �
�ARE YOU OKAY?” Lottie asks, peering at me from the opened door.

  I repeatedly blink, snapping out of the haunting memories. I raise my eyes to meet hers. A frown creases her forehead.

  “Huh?” I shake my head slightly.

  “Are you okay?” She sits next to me.

  “I’m all right. Tired. Too much sun.” I stretch my arms over my head and link my fingers behind my neck.

  “Looks like someone didn’t watch the show after all.” She nods to Jake, who is now sprawled on the couch, his head resting on my thigh.

  I look to the TV screen. It’s blue. I wonder how long I’ve sat here, lost in the past. My hand finds Jake’s mane of blond hair. My fingers sift through the fine strands. It’s soothing.

  “Hey, if this is too much, and you want to bail out, I won’t hold it against you,” Lottie says, wringing her hands.

  I glance at the door. The last thing I need is someone prying into our conversation.

  “What makes you think that?” I study her face. Her lower lip trembles.

  “The look on your face,” she says in a small voice and fixes her eyes on her hands.

  “Hey,” I say, lifting her chin. “Hey, look at me.” She peers at me. Fear and insecurity cloud her face.

  “Well, I’m not going to lie. This whole thing has been overwhelming. Meeting your folks, especially your dad, has made for quite a day. But I’m not going anywhere, okay? Not unless you want me to.” I tuck her hair behind her ear. It’s all true, but there’s so much more to this day. If she knew, her greatest concern would be getting a divorce.

  Unconvinced, she bites the corner of her lower lip.

  I don’t know if it is the simple gesture or the innocence displayed on her soft features, but I want her something fierce. Lottie is uniquely innocent in a world of perverted inauthenticity.

  “Let’s go for a ride?” I need to get the hell away from her family. Get my mind in order.

  “You’re tired. Wouldn’t you rather take a nap?” she asks.

  “Nah, I need to move. Get fresh air. Do you want to go for a hike? I looked up a local map. There’s a beautiful three-mile trail marked ‘easy’ close to here. You game?”

  “Okay.” She retrieves the remote control and shuts off the TV. “I’ll let Mom know we’re heading out and meet you in the bedroom. I want to change into something more appropriate.”

  “Get some water bottles, would you?” I ask, gently removing Jake from my lap and tucking a throw pillow under his head.

  “Yep,” she responds.

  We head in opposite directions, Lottie to the kitchen and me to the bedroom. Fortunately, I cross the house without bumping into the other guests.

  Granny placed us in a suite at the far end of the house, probably to give the newlyweds a measure of privacy. Once inside, I raid my luggage for hiking boots, and I put some hiking gear in the backpack. Since I’ve been on the island a few times, I know there are many trails offering breathtakingly beautiful views.

  After changing my clothes, I stand by the back door leading to the beach and watch the postcard landscape. The sky is cloudless. A cool breeze carries a whiff of salt from the sea. Waves break on the shore forming a white foam.

  The bedroom door squeaks open. My head turns to see Lottie entering the room. She casts her eyes my way for a brief moment but remains silent.

  I turn and prop my shoulder on the doorframe to watch her across the room. She fidgets with the lock on her suitcase until it opens.

  “Put on a bathing suit. The trail leads to a waterfall,” I inform her.

  She gathers her apparel and disappears into the bathroom. I smile, shaking my head. My wife is modest. I need to help her out of her shell, at least in the bedroom. Call me a selfish bastard, but as far as the rest of the world is concerned, she can remain shy.

  “I’m ready.” She reemerges from the bathroom, hair in a ponytail, khaki shorts, and a tank top that hugs her small waist. My eyes peruse her body, stopping for a bit at the swell of her breasts. I have half a mind to throw her on the bed and sink into her warmth until I find oblivion.

  “Let’s go then.” I grab her hand and lead her out.

  AFTER A THIRTY-MINUTE drive, I park the car. I gather the gear from the trunk, and we head to the trail.

  “To the waterfall and back takes around two hours. So we should be good,” I say. Though the sun is riding low in the sky, there are at least another four hours of sunlight.

  “I told Mom not to wait for us for dinner. It’s promptly served at seven, right after sunset,” she says.

  We climb a gravel path that will lead to the trail deep into the forest. According to the map, it’s a nature feast for the eyes.

  Lottie is silent. I’m the one who usually initiates conversation. I need to get my head out of my ass and enjoy these moments with her. When we get back to the house, I’ll have to focus on putting on a brave face.

  I want to make small talk. However, the small forest, alive with noises, is distracting. We immerse deep into the tangle of trees, zooming through mazes of wild beauty, synchronizing with the environment. Birds and crickets chirp. The wind whistles through the leaves. Twigs crack under our muted steps. It’s a festival of sound and color.

  An hour later, a sheer layer of sweat covers our skin. I’m questioning if we took a wrong turn when the hypnotic sound of a waterfall beckons us out into a meadow. Shimmering streams of water hurtle down onto rocks, spilling into a small lake that’s the color of an emerald. Lottie and I stand side by side, soaking in the peace and seclusion the place offers.

  “You hated them, didn’t you?” she asks bluntly.

  My entire body swivels toward Lottie. I cup her face. Her brows are deeply furrowed, her lower lip quivers. Her crumpled face fills me with understanding. It’s important to Lottie that I like her family and vice versa.

  We got into this position because of an impulsive action. However, Lottie is as invested as I am in this crazy relationship we have going.

  “No, not at all, babe. But we’re going to need time to get into a friendlier zone.” My thumb traces her trembling lip. “Don’t worry. I promise I’ll have them in love with me by the end of this trip.”

  My job, my lifestyle, requires me to say things that I don’t totally mean. Often, I lie and make empty promises I have no intention of fulfilling. It’s part of what clients expect. I only say what they want to hear. And I’m paid enough money for it. But at this moment, it tears at my heart to make a promise I’m unsure I can deliver. However, I will say anything to chase her worries away.

  Because I have nothing else to say to calm the storm I see in her eyes, I do what I do best. I crush my lips to hers in a hungry kiss.

  Her body responds instantly to mine, yielding, molding. My hands surge over her body, exploring, bruising, and searching.

  My fingers pull the tank top over her head. I step back to admire the tits covered only by a tiny strip of fabric. A loud growl rises from my throat.

  I grab my shirt and drag it over my head. With our eyes locked, Lottie shimmies her hips as she pulls her shorts down her thighs. We both work on kicking off our shoes. It’s a festival of tossing clothes and shoes.

  Our lips clash again. Hungry. Desperate.

  We are both down to our swimwear. Her generous breasts are pressing against my chest. A possessive feeling grabs hold of me. I cup behind Lottie’s knees so her legs can hook around my hips.

  I step into the lake, our mouths moving at a frantic pace. As our bodies submerge in the water, Lottie’s becomes weightless. With a firm grip on her ass cheek, I grind her core against my throbbing erection. She moans loudly, her head falling back, her nails biting into the skin of my shoulders. My mouth seeks her neck, sucking her soft skin. My teeth scrape her collarbone, my hips gyrating, pushing into her pussy.

  “I need inside you. Now.”

  “Yes, please,” she cries with the same desperation in her voice.

  “Behind the waterfall.” I let go of her. Wi
th a few strokes, we dive under the curtain of water and emerge from behind it.

  My need to fuse our bodies together is frightening. Whenever I have sex, though I’m paid to pleasure my partner, I take as much as I give. I enjoy the carnal connection. I savor the ecstasy of coming inside a warm body. Plain and simple, I like sex.

  But this is different. There is a frenzy surging through me, humming over my nerve endings. The blood in my veins boils. My skin is too tight for my body. A haze of desperation blinds me.

  Under the water, my hands seek her hips. I flush her body to mine.

  “I’m not using a condom. I need to feel you bare.” Though my tone is commanding, my eyes seek hers for permission. “I’ll pull out,” I promise.

  “I’m on the pill.” She shakes her head. “Don’t pull out,” she says, her voice trembling.

  A groan escapes my throat. I move us until her back is pressed against a smooth wall of stone. Droplets of water saturate the air surrounding us. The green from the trees’ canopies filter through the clear cascade. It’s a piece of heaven on earth.

  I draw back and look at Lottie’s face. I urge myself to slow it down, make it pleasurable for her. Then, I remind myself that this isn’t an assignment. Yes, I want to please her, need to please her. But not out of obligation. Her pleasure is my pleasure.

  The stream offers us solace. Water hitting the stones creates a sound barrier. We have our own little world.

  I pull the strings on either side of her bikini bottom and shove it inside my trunks pocket. I repeat the same with her top.

  I draw back to exam her. Her wet hair falls into a curtain around her breasts. Her eyes are wide. Her pupils dilated, her lips swollen and parted. Her hands are bracing the wall on either side of her body.

  She is breathtaking.

  My dick, strained inside my trunks, throbs demanding action. I ignore it. The need to be inside her is all consuming. But damn if I won’t make this moment last as long as I can. Savor the sight of her. Pliant. Docile. Waiting for me. Her chest rising and falling in expectation. Her need matching my own. No. This is not to be rushed. This is sacred.