We Will Always Have the Closet

by Natalina Reis

  Petra

  In her head, Petra reviewed all the conversations she had had with Alina, past and present, trying to find something that would reveal whether what Sam had just told her was even a possibility. She couldn’t deny it; Alina had always acted strange around Linden, as if she was hiding something. And since she had been back in Petra’s life, her actions seemed contrite somehow, as if she was playing a role in a play. She had been duped. Again. When was she going to learn not to be so trusting?

  “Listen, honey,” Sam was saying. He stood up and moved beside her and was now rubbing her arms. “We can’t be sure about it until I check it out.”

  “Don’t bother,” she said. “Why else would she all of a sudden stop calling me? We had been friends for years before Jonas came into my life.” Her eyes were red with unshed tears of anger and frustration. “I should have known. Do you know that she was after Liam also? As soon as she found out that we had gone on a few dates, she started pursuing him. I didn’t believe it at the time when Liam told me. I thought he was just trying to make me jealous, but…he wasn’t lying after all.”

  Sam crossed his long arms around her, nestling his chin between her shoulder and her neck. Petra leaned into him, feeling the comforting pressure of his body against her back. “I am a fool, Sam,” she said. “I wanted to believe she was my friend, that she cared about me, but all she cared about was stealing what I had. I’m not very good at judging people.”

  “What are you talking about?” Sam protested. “You have impeccable taste in guys, for one. Otherwise why would you have chosen me?” She giggled. “And Liam never went for her, either, did he?”

  “No, Liam is too smart to fall for her tricks,” she agreed. “Can’t say the same about Jonas, though.”

  Sam hugged her tighter and brushed his lips on the side of her neck. “Well, he’s an idiot. And even though you don’t believe it, a criminal to boot.”

  Petra turned herself around in his arms and looked up into his fluid green eyes. “What do I have to do to convince you?” she asked.

  “You can’t,” he said simply, depositing a moist kiss on her chin. “I know it in my bones. That guy is a felon.”

  Even though Petra disagreed with him on that point, she couldn’t help but smile at his expression of utter certainty. “Would a kiss sway you a bit?”

  “No way,” he exclaimed. Then, lowering his voice he added, “But I won’t be upset if you try to convince me.”

  He finished the sandwich while Petra sat next to him a bit pensive, mulling over the idea that her friend had been using her. Sam watched her with worried eyes. Then, he cocked his head and shook it.

  “Why don’t you get changed?” Sam suggested, standing up and coming around next to her. “I want to take you somewhere.”

  “Am I not dressed up enough for you?” Petra said, staring up at him with a sarcastic glint in her eye. “All right, I’ll put on something dressier.”

  “Actually, just make sure you’re warm and have good walking shoes. That’s all,” he said, a tiny smile popping on the corner of his lips. “Go. Before it gets dark.”

  In less than twenty minutes they were both out the door heading toward the mysterious locale Sam had chosen. They didn’t go far. Sam exited onto a dirt road that led to a decrepit old house by the water. “Don’t let its looks deceive you,” he said, opening the car door for her. “It’s full of surprises.”

  Petra didn’t argue. She followed him around the side of the shack into the back, facing the water. Surprisingly, there was a well-maintained boat slip and two small boats which were obviously not as old or neglected as the house itself. “What? Are these yours?” she asked.

  “No, they belong to someone I know in town,” he explained. “He bought this place a few years ago, but it was already so rundown he couldn’t afford to renovate. But he was able to build a small pier that’s hidden from the road so he can use it for fishing trips.”

  Petra stopped for a minute, thinking over the information he had just relayed. “We’re going fishing?” she said with a frown. “You do realize I, one, don’t like boats, and two, don’t like fishing, right?”

  His laughter echoed over the body of water. “I know, I know,” he said. “We’re not going fishing, but you will have to get on a boat for, like, ten minutes tops.”

  With a grimace, she allowed him to lead her into one of the small boats, attach a life-vest to her and himself, and then turn on the boat’s ignition. “It’s a short trip, I swear.”

  “Yeah, I hope you remember what happened the last time I followed you into a boat,” she said, sitting gingerly as far as she could from the edge. “You don’t want to be puked on again, do you?” Laughing, he maneuvered the small vessel through the waters of the Sound. She couldn’t imagine where he was taking her.

  With Petra holding on for dear life to the sides of the boat, they made their way through the still waters of Puget Sound. The cold of winter didn’t seem to bother Sam, but it sure bothered her. Her teeth were chattering, her skin covered in goose bumps in spite of the warm coat she had on. “Are we going far?” she yelled, trying to be heard over the sound of the boat engine slicing the water.

  Sam chuckled, well aware of her discomfort. ‘We’re almost there,” he yelled back. Petra chanced a glance behind her toward the front of the boat, but she couldn’t see any destination ahead. Other than a few of those small islands that populated the Sound, there was no harbor, no pier, not even a bank to land on. “Stop fretting. You’ll be fine.”

  Easy for you to say. Her stomach was already somersaulting and vibrating like a washing machine. Soon she would be saying goodbye to the lovely sandwich she had for lunch. The engine stopped and she felt the boat slowing down, using only momentum to move forward. She looked back again and saw that they were heading toward one of the islands. What was he up to now?

  “We’re here,” he announced unnecessarily, slowly guiding the boat to a sand bank.

  The boat stopped abruptly and Petra almost fell forward from her perch, while Sam, as sure of his footing as if he was standing on solid ground, jumped off the boat to pull it more securely onto the sand. Then he offered his hand to help her out, which she accepted gladly.

  “You have told me that you had fantasies about these islands,” he explained, walking alongside her further away from the water lapping close to their feet. “So, I thought we would come and take a look, see if we can find any elves or unicorns or whatever…”

  Much to his surprise, Petra threw herself in his arms, hands around his neck, holding him in a tight embrace. “Not that I am complaining…” He quickly realized she was crying great big, heartfelt sobs. “What happened? What did I do?”

  Her head moved side to side. “No, you didn’t do anything wrong,” she managed to say between sobs. “It’s just that I used to think there were fairies in these islands that could bring my parents back. I know better now, but just being here…”

  His long arms crisscrossed behind her as he pulled her closer. “I’m sorry,” he said. “This was meant as a good thing. If I knew it would upset you…”

  Her face jerked up to him, tear tracks smudging her makeup. “No, I love it, Sam, I truly do,” she said, still fighting to control the sobs. “These are happy tears.”

  They stood there for a few minutes, holding each other in silence while Petra slowly stopped crying. “Shall we hunt down a few fairies?” Sam whispered in her ear.

  Laughter came as suddenly as the tears had. She wiped her eyes with her sleeve and smiled at him. “Let’s. I hear they’re tricky, though.”

  “You forget I’m a trained investigator,” he said very seriously, sending her into another fit of laughter. “They can’t hide from me.”

  No fairies were to be seen that day on the tiny island, but they had fun searching until, spent from the running, they both fell into the cold sand side by side. The evening was falling and the moon was already visible in the sky. Fingers entwined, they laid in silence l
ooking up at it, almost expecting it to speak to them.

  “You’re okay?” Sam whispered, turning his head to her.

  “I’m all right,” she said, tightening her hold on his hand. “Not easy finding out your old friend was really not your friend at all…but I have you now, don’t I? You won’t betray me, will you?”

  Sam turned on his side toward her. “Of course not,” he assured her. “I am here for you no matter what.”

  Petra also turned toward him. The icy sand scratched the side of her cheek. “You know, what I don’t understand is why she wanted to be friends with me again—or pretend she was,” she said. “What purpose did that serve?”

  He tilted his head, visibly as confused by it as she was. “No idea,” he confessed. “Maybe she felt guilty about what she had done and wanted to atone for it?” It was a lovely thought, but Petra much doubted it. Whatever motives Alina had, it was over.

  “We probably should be going,” Petra said, sitting up. Sam followed her, sliding an arm over her shoulders. “Thank you for bringing me here. I will never forget it.”

  Sam brushed his fingers along her cheek in a tender caress and smiled. “No, thank you for being here with me. By myself this is just an island, but with you, it’s a magical place.” His lips descended upon hers and she tasted the sweetness of his words. With a whimper she leaned against him, wanting more. Sam laughed softly. “We better go before I decide to join the fairies and live here with you as my fairy consort forever.”

  Almost reluctantly, they got in the boat and returned to shore with hearts full of magic and warmth. Strange how bad things sometimes led to wonderful ones. But who were they to complain?

  ***

  Sam

  The day had started like most every day in the Northwest—slightly cloudy, promising rain, maybe even the first snow of winter. Nothing was out of place or out of the ordinary. Yet, here they were, locked in yet another closet, hiding from another potentially very dangerous situation.

  Breakfast was a quick affair of oatmeal and toast. Petra was feeling much better; her arm was now out of the sling and the stitches on her forehead a mere bruise. Unfortunately, feeling better also meant she was plotting again, figuring out various original ways of getting herself, and him, in trouble. Sam had tried to keep her distracted with movie outings, long trips to the seashore to watch the whales, even a visit to a local museum, but sooner or later she always went back to the investigation, bent on proving her ex-husband’s innocence. Sam had yet to be convinced that Linden was indeed an innocent bystander in a ring of criminal activity, and he certainly did not want to have her involved in any potential dangerous situations. It was like trying to harness a hurricane.

  Sometime after they had both showered and dressed, Petra became hell-bent on the notion of going into town for a cup of coffee. Sam wanted to believe this sudden need for caffeine, but deep inside he knew she was up to something. He could have faked a stomachache or some other infirmity, but he was certain she would find a way around it. So he caved in and told her he would take her to the nearest Starbucks for coffee.

  Seattle and its surrounding areas were littered with coffee kiosks, small caffeine dedicated drive-thru huts. Anyone with a caffeine addiction would never go wanting in this area. However, Petra had set her mind on this particular Starbucks, which just happened to be a block down from Liam’s place. Shortly after his visit, Petra had decided if anyone had any incriminating—or perhaps clearing—evidence of Jonas’ less-than-legal comings and goings, it was Liam. He took care of all the art related business for his friend. First, she had offered to visit Liam in his studio and play the muse-card to try to extract any information she could from him. Sam had vehemently refused to let her do it, claiming it was too risky. The truth was, he was afraid Adonis would get the upper hand and convince Petra they could re-ignite their lost romance.

  So, he found himself driving toward Seattle with a heavy heart and the distinct feeling he was the one being taken for a ride. Petra’s mood was ebullient; her chatter had not ceased, and at one point Sam had to shut her out to focus on the road and the traffic. She didn’t seem to notice and kept on. Once in a while he would catch words like latte or amazing, or at one point dictator. Convinced he must have misheard that one, and deciding that it was probably wise to pay attention to what she was saying, he tuned in again, trying to find his bearings in the tidal wave of words springing from Petra’s mouth. The desired coffee shop was just around the corner, so Sam parked the car in the first available spot in front of this nondescript high rise.

  “Look,” Petra was saying as she stepped out of the car. “This is Liam’s studio.” He had parked right in front of the one place he wanted to avoid. “Let’s go see if he’s there.”

  “Come on, Petra,” he begged without much hope of being heeded. “Let’s go get our coffee. Liam is probably busy doing whatever it is that artists do.” He knew exactly what they did, having a few artists as friends, but jealousy was gnawing at him anew.

  “He won’t mind,” she said with certainty, heading to the door of the building. “Come on.”

  He followed her reluctantly, hoping he wasn’t home. Petra was ringing the doorbell on the intercom with gusto. “I haven’t been to his studio in over a year,” she was saying. “I wonder if he has changed it much.”

  “He’s not home,” Sam stated after waiting for a few moments. “Let’s go. I need my caffeine.”

  “Don’t be silly,” she said with a laugh, and, bending down, she dug up a key from under a loose tile under the welcome mat. Holding it high in front of her face, she declared, “He always keeps a spare because he keeps losing his keys.”

  “Are you crazy?” he exclaimed in shock. “You’re not serious. Please tell me you’re not serious. We can’t go in there while he’s out. That’s trespassing.”

  “Not if you’re a friend and you have permission from the owner to go in,” she said, so logically he almost agreed. “Liam has always told me I can come in anytime I want.” Her hand was fiddling with the door, and much to Sam’s dismay, it opened suddenly.

  “Shit, Petra,” he exclaimed loud enough to be heard down the street. “You have lost your mind!”

  She was already halfway inside. “Calm down, Sam,” she said, sounding annoyed. “I know what I’m doing.” He doubted that very much, but he followed her anyway. He couldn’t believe they were breaking into someone’s home. What next? Murder?

  Obviously familiar with her surroundings, she got them in the elevator, an old antique that reminded Sam of the terrifying one in The Shining. It clunked its way to the penthouse and stopped abruptly with a big whoosh. “Holy shit! We’re lucky we made it alive,” Sam exclaimed half-jokingly.

  Petra walked out of the elevator and went straight to the room that looked to be an office of sorts. She zoomed in on the desk and file cabinet and immediately started going through papers. “Hell, Petra, you don’t even know if anyone’s home,” he protested, watching her, fascinated by the speed in which she was checking all the papers. “Petra,” he yelled a little louder. She looked at him, her quizzical eyebrow up in a deep arc. “This is wrong.”

  Petra stared at him for a few seconds and then exclaimed, “Poppycock.” And went back to snooping.

  He stood glued in place. “Poppycock? Really? Who in heaven’s name says that?”

  Feeling ignored, Sam walked toward the window to make sure no one was coming. People came and went, hurrying down the sidewalk in their everyday shuffle. None of them had to worry about being caught doing something illegal, like he did. Sam sighed, resigned, and turned to help Petra, who seemed to be almost through. “Find anything interesting?” he asked.

  “Nothing criminal, if that’s what you mean,” she answered, reading through a particularly long legal document. “Everything is just the way it’s supposed to be. No more, no less.”

  “All that means is that Liam may not be in with the criminal part of the business,” he replied. “It doesn’t pr
ove that Jonas is innocent.”

  Having put all the papers back in their rightful places, Petra stood up and walked around the penthouse. “I used to love spending time here before I got married,” she said, opening her arms and twirling around the wide open room. There were canvases everywhere, some finished pieces, some works-in-progress. A collection of ink pots, brushes, and dirty rags were scattered around the apartment, creating a palette of their own.

  “Came here a lot, then?” he asked, jealousy edging his voice.

  “A bit,” she answered. “I loved art, Liam was an artist…”

  His vision was suddenly tinted red and his breathing was coming out ragged. “A match made in heaven, I am sure,” he mumbled under his breath while she twirled herself all the way into his arms and was now staring at him with her big beautiful brown eyes. “Did you guys ever…?”

  Her laughter sounded like metal hitting crystal and echoed through the space. Sam felt her hand grab his and she pulled him after her. “You mean, have we ever kissed…here?” She stopped right by a settee, which was obviously the location for a model. Petra stood on her tip-toes and kissed him lightly on the lips. A tingling started its way down from his lips to the rest of his body. She pulled him in another direction. “Or maybe here?” They were now by a massive unmade bed, covered in luscious soft covers and cushions. She kissed him again, teasingly, and then moved on toward a door not too far from the bed. “Or maybe in the shower while we made mad, passionate love?”

  Tall he may be, but he was also fast, and without warning he sprinted to her side and grabbed hold of her shoulders. “Enough,” he demanded, his face almost touching hers. “You can drive a saint insane.” He reached for the handle on the door next to them and swept Petra inside with him, closing it behind. It was a closet, he realized, almost as small as the one where they’d met in Linden’s house.

  With Petra nestled in his arms, pressed against his body, he relished in the heat they shared. “A closet again, Sam?” she whispered over his lips. “You sure know how to treat a woman.” Their lips melded together in a slow, heated kiss. Sam had been holding back, but now he couldn’t do it anymore. His hands took on a life of their own and crept under her shirt to flatten themselves on her bare back. The feel of her silky warm skin sent the blood in his veins on a sprint, pumping hard and leaving him breathless.