Colour My Ugly

by A. Giannoccaro

  My phone alerts me to an email. I will have to work tonight I guess. Callum’s eyes snap to mine he knows what that tone indicates. I know that this little bubble of real life with no cold-blooded business to deal with is over. Callum thanks Lauri for dinner and makes his excuses so that he can make a swift exit and I can get to work.

  I help Lauri clear the table and pack the dishwasher. I have to get a new maid, I fucking suck at housework I am already running out of clean clothes. I need to broach the topic of work with her again and I know she is not going to be happy.

  “Lauri, I have to work tonight. I probably won’t be back before tomorrow evening. I know you don’t want to know but I can’t just walk out without saying anything at all.” I try to sound as warm and fuzzy as I can about telling her I am about to go and kill a man in his sleep and then burn his business down. I keep packing the dishes waiting for the explosion that is bound to follow.

  “It’s fine, if you have to work, you have to work but let’s just decide right now I am not your child Rowan. I am a grown woman you don’t have to tell me where you are or what you are doing I don’t need or want to know. So if you really need to share your shit with me then just say you are needed at the office. I wanted to go shopping tomorrow anyway. I am a little tired of the clothes you chose. No offense but they are not the best selection ever.” The scathing tone of her voice is intended to make sure every word is a stab at me. I figured she would comment about the clothes eventually she has hardly worn any of them, I didn’t realize I was buying for a lady who kept herself completely covered up all the time. I smirk and nod at her, not letting her know that her words wound me when she is so intentionally nasty.

  “Fine, we are roommates then I won’t treat you like you are a child but we can at least be friendly about it. I will arrange a new maid today as well. I hate housework and you are not a slave here.” I hate watching her clean up my home.

  I turn away and go to my office my mind won’t focus as I pack my work bag and leave through the office door. I could have done with some sleep after last night my eyes burn from being awake too long and the nap this afternoon was cancelled out by the shock awakening I got, but sleep will have to wait I guess. I throw my bag in the boot of my car. Her sleek red one parked next to mine makes me smile a little. She is a breath of fresh air in my life and I can’t help but think it’s going to mean trouble for me in all kinds of ways. I am already feeling things I shouldn’t feel, I should not feel at all, life was so easy when I didn’t.

  Before I leave I send the estate manager an email from my phone, for her to hire a maid for the main house ASAP. Before I have to work in my skivvies, no one will take a killer seriously in his Calvin Klein’s.

  I drive into the dark of the night and all I can think of is the beautiful woman I have left in my kitchen. I really should be concentrating on the job, it’s been in the works for months just waiting for the call to come and give me the go ahead to do it. My brain cannot focus on anything but her since she arrived at my home in the middle of night drugged and at my mercy.

  She has undone all the years of conditioning to make me an unfeeling monster, with one fucking look she has crushed my walls and defences and she has forced her way into my world. A world she has no place in, but I cannot let her leave.

  I am going to go and kill a man now and while I do all I can think of is her. I want her, I want what I know I cannot have and it is going to be the end of me I just know it.

  I need to find a way to keep her out of my head.

  LAURI

  “Life becomes easier when you learn to accept the apology you never got”.

  ~ Robert Brault

  It’s been six months since I died, six months of finally living every single day like it’s the last one. Yesterday was my last day of sitting for Robin to finish covering my scars with his beautiful ink. He called me his colouring project in the end. I am not quite sure what I am going to with all my extra time now that he is done, I am also not sure he is done. I absolutely adore the artwork he has woven into my skin and I am pretty sure even though my scars are gone that I will want more. The pain of the needle on my skin has been my therapy over these months erasing the pain put there by Renzo and replacing it with a pain that is my own. It is my pain and I own it. His wife Amya has become my friend, a genuine friend that I can simply be a girl with. We drink wine, shop and laugh together as often as we can. She has taught me to embrace my newly coloured body and exactly how to flaunt it. She has this wild rockabilly style that I love, but can’t pull off so she has helped me create my own sort of laid back version of it and I love it. She is trying to convince me to get some piercings, of which she has more than I actually cared to know about but I am not sure I like the idea of being pierced. I am not saying no just maybe not right now.

  I have learned over the last six months that just because I was breathing before it didn’t mean I was alive. My life as a wife was not living it was dying. I died a little every day for eight years and now I plan to make up for it every second. Rowan and I seem to coexist rather well. I fired his maid after a day and just took over managing the house myself she was creepy and I liked my time at home to be my time and not worry about some person invading my space. I cook every day and it is my passion now even more than the day I left culinary school. We have Callum over for dinner often as it seems my cousin is either malnourished or in love with my food. He and I have become close and it is a comfort to have family even if he is a criminal, underneath that he cares for me like only family can. Although I don’t trust him, something in his eyes makes be believe that there is more than what we see and I am afraid of it. I wish he would cut his hair though, really it is awful. Both Cal and Rowan bug me often to show them more of my tattoo but I just can’t. I am not ready to share it with the world yet. I found out a few weeks ago that Callum had seen pictures of my scars I was mortified and cancelled a few of our get togethers, Rowan hadn’t known how to explain to him why I wasn’t leaving and Callum had been concerned. He actually asked me if I wanted to see his therapist. I’m not sure what made me laugh harder the thought of him talking to a therapist or that he thinks I need one. He said I have Stockholm syndrome that no one actually would choose to live with Rowan. My demons will stay right where they belong, buried alive in my soul.

  My little pseudo family of me Rowan and Callum has truly made me feel like I am real. I haven’t had a panic attack in a few months and I seem to be getting over my irrational fear of people and feelings. Some other fears however we just don’t get past. I am still terrified of physical contact, intimacy and sex most of all sex. I cannot even watch sex in a movie on the telly without wanting to die. I also realised that I have a deep seeded fear of babies I nearly passed out standing in line at our local deli behind a mom and a crying baby. I, in fact dumped my shopping and left. That wound is too raw and since it is the one pain I haven’t shared with anyone its mine to deal with all alone. Seeing a baby just reminded me of the ones I had lost. No, not lost they were stolen from me. Murdered and I still feel the pain of their deaths deep in my heart. My childhood dreams of a husband and kids were shattered and I don’t think I will ever want those things again. The image is tainted by the brutality of my reality. In all honesty I question whether or not love even exists. I think maybe that it’s just a picture and up close it’s as ugly as anything else in our lives. I see things through new eyes now, mostly I see that there is a whole world of evil out there and no one really cares. I am starting to embrace it myself and wonder if in fact anyone is truly good. I know that the thoughts the fly through my head every day make me a little more monster and a little less human all the time.

  Rowan still works all the time and my feelings about it have become ambiguous I feel my suffering for what my father did and cannot help but wonder if what Renzo said about the sins of the fathers being paid for by the ones they love will be true for him. The truth is I have never seen h
im like anything or anyone never mind love so maybe it will end with him. There is no one close enough to Rowan to hurt for him. I sometimes wonder to myself how it would feel to take a life and my feelings of wanting to spare Renzo are being replaced with revenge everyday a little more. I want him to die. I find myself wanting to inflict pain on him, hurt him and make him pay for what he has made me. I made Rowan promise that he wouldn’t kill him unless I asked him to, so for now he lives believing I am dead and I heard he has a pretty new fiancé now. I am sure she is in for a rude awakening. I almost feel guilty. Almost. I feel I might be becoming a bad person like my Father, Like Rowan and even Callum is a bad man, in fact I think Callum may be a true villain the kind you read about in books he just keeps it very well hidden. I have feelings now, I am no longer numb as I was before but I am worried the feelings I have now are not the ones I should have. I wonder if there isn’t a little more ugly in my soul than I want to believe. I am after all born into a family of murder and blood and all the ugly things no one wants to see.

  Tonight I am cooking a dinner to celebrate the completion of my tattoo I have invited Robin and Amya to join the three of us and I am really looking forward to it. Yesterday I had lunch with Amya and she said that they had never been to the estate Rowan was somewhat a hermit apparently. You could have fooled me, I have seen the trail of women that get brought home and then removed in the middle of the night by a driver in suit waiting outside my window. I have also had to hear his wild, loud and somewhat distasteful sexcapades through the wall that separates our rooms. I have turned his own tactic against him and simply turn the music so loud I don’t hear them. I have caught a glimpse of a few scorned faces as they get sent packing after being used and I am pretty sure by the sounds of it abused. I am in no way surprised, good Lord Rowan is something to look at and he would turn any warm blooded woman’s head. He even gets the little teenager’s heads turning his way. His dark hair brooding blue eyes and body that couldn’t get any harder if he tried, combined with those tattoos and there is no way you cannot look. Heaven forbid he actually open his mouth and that gravely sexy Irish voice comes out any one would melt. I do, yes you heard me, and I often catch myself staring at him. I have gotten better at not getting caught by him but I still look. I have had a strange pang of jealous rage pulse through me few times when I saw or heard him with another woman. I quickly reminded myself that I may live here but Rowan doesn’t belong to me. In fact I am pretty sure that he will never belong to anyone, he uses them and send them away never the same lady twice. It’s better that way. No one will pay for the life he has chosen, no one gets close enough to be worth hurting he safeguards them that way. Besides who could love a murderer? He is never going to change who or what he is.

  Amya has suggested I try finding a man a few times. I don’t want her to know that I am terrified of being touched and that the thought of sex paralyzes me. So I just brush it off and say I’m not ready to date or I am holding out for someone special. She buys it occasionally but I know she won’t drop it until I actually show some interest in men. She did ask me if I preferred girls once too. This resulted in me choking on my wine while trying to control a fit of laughter. I am most certainly not into girls; I do believe I am just not into anyone who comes close enough to touch me. I am excited to have my friends here to eat my food in my home.

  The kitchen is filled with aromas of fresh baked bread that is cooling down and the seafood sauce I have prepared for the fresh pasta I am busy rolling out. I am in heaven sipping my wine and dancing around the kitchen to my favourite songs on the iPod I have shoved in my ears. I have an idea to turn one of the old sheds down at the estate into a restaurant that will open for lunches on the weekends but I haven’t broached the topic with Rowan yet. I sounded it off Amya and she thinks it will be great but my faith in myself isn’t quite there yet. I just need something to do and I am getting bored just existing at the house all the time. I want to do what I love. I love to cook; I need to have some sort of purpose to keep going or the only place I will go is crazy.

  My perfectly cut fettuccine is ready to go in the pot as soon as our guests arrive and I am working on a chocolate dessert that could induce a sugar coma I am sure. I have set the patio table for tonight I love to eat out there in the fresh air it is just perfect with the view of the vineyards going on for miles. The dusky evening sky is so beautiful over the valley that I could get lost in it every day. I am in love with the Franschoek valley and I think I will stay here forever. Rowan may disagree eventually but for now I am home and I plan to enjoy every minute I am here. I am about to plate up a platter of antipasto to go with tonight’s Italian feast when I see Rowan’s car pull into the driveway through the kitchen window, followed by the roar of Callum’s obnoxious Mercedes. Well the men are home, I am sure Rob and Amya won’t be far behind so I pull out my ear-buds and get cracking on dinner. I am having an exceptionally good day today and I really want to show Robin how much my tattoo means and the best way I know how is with a good meal from the heart.

  The guys come barrelling in through Rowan’s office. I never go in there; I don’t want to go in there that’s where he works from it is his space I have invaded his home, but his office seems sacred somehow. The idea of it sort of scares me a little but also reminds me of my dad and his office, so I stay out. They both invade my kitchen trying to pick at my food and I have to swat their hands away a few times before Cal kisses me on the cheek and greets me with his friendly hug. I still tense at the touch. I know he is trying to distract me so Rowan can steal a piece of bread. They may be grown men but together they are a like a bunch of teenage boys.

  “Stop it you two, we are actually getting guests tonight.” I tell the two of them while trying to shoo them out. They only make it to the other side of the island but at least they can’t reach the food for now. Rowan pours them each a scotch and fills my wine glass while they watch me cooking. Callum’s eyes are wondering over my colourful arms when he interrupts my cooking.

  “So it’s finally done, are we ever going to see more than just those arms?” Callum pipes up over the noise of my cooking he is so desperate to see the rest of the artwork. The roses that cover my shoulders and upper arm are interwoven with black filigree that joins them to all the other aspects of the tattoo. On my chest is a heart almost like Rowan’s but its empty. The only place my scars are still visible sort of symbolic Robin said of the scars that are on the inside like a window into my pain. There are the most stunning hummingbirds that adorn my spine and parts of my back surrounded by the most vivid colourful flowers and the same black filigree wraps around my sides joining front and back. On my stomach there are hundreds of small detailed butterflies in bright colours over the black filigree. The filigree then swirls down my thighs and is only broken by a few small swallows that are in black and grey. I am in love with it and see some new detail every day. But I am not ready for anyone else to see it yet. Amya has seen some of it because she would sit and chat to me as Robin worked. Neither of them ever asked where or how I got my scars and I don’t think Rowan has told them either. I just shake my head at Callum’s request and give him the finger for good measure. “Not yet, Cal I’m not ready yet.” He doesn’t argue just carries on like it doesn’t bother him but I know it does. He might be my cousin but he is still a man and baring my naked flesh to him makes me more than a little uncomfortable. Since my skin is covered in art I never feel completely naked, it is as if I have an extra layer of my very own protection, but I am not baring my flesh to my cousin. It feels weird.

  My thoughts are interrupted by the gate buzzer, Robin and Amya are here. Rowan goes to open the gate as I add the finishing touches to dinner so I can greet them when they come in.

  Amya greets me in the kitchen with a big hug and a bottle of wine. She is looking her usual put together hot self and I see all three of the men looking at her. They can be such perverts. Her very sexy fitted dress bares her shoulders and her jet black ha
ir is styled in a very sexy sleek ponytail. I am sure it is the sexy as all hell red heeled pumps that make her legs look like man candy that has them all drooling the most. Robin kisses my cheek and greets me as I take off my apron and we exit the kitchen to go sit on the patio. The evening is beautiful; the cloudy sky hides the stars tonight and only a few twinkling lights from our far off neighbours can be seen in the distance. I serve the antipasto on the couches that are on the side of the patio and we all pick at the finger snacks and chat about lots of nothing. Robin asks Rowan about the wine business and I can’t help but choke on my wine. Rowan has no clue he doesn’t even drink wine, I have been making myself aware of our estate and the daily running of it over the past few months and we are pretty good if I can say so myself. Rowan however could care less as long as it runs and it seems as if he is running it. We have a very talented estate manger a young lady that has everything to prove and seems to be doing just that. Robin was just taking the piss but it has us all laughing. I get up to clear the platters off the table and Amya helps me carry them back to the kitchen. Her heels click on the slate as she walks behind me into the house.