by Monica Rossi
That was exactly how Melissa felt, how could she go flitting through life having fun like everything was normal when her sister, her other half, the person she thought would always be by her side, was cold in the ground.
“But that’s not how life works,” Owen continued, “We don’t get to choose when or how our loved ones leave us. We just have to cope with it. And I know it’s clichéd but no one who really loved you would want you to spend the rest of your life mourning them.”
Felicia wouldn’t have wanted her to mourn at all, she’d told her so. Before she’d died she asked to have a party instead of a funeral, with a DJ and everything. Her mom had thrown the party, inviting all of their friends and making up a video montage of all of them telling about the best memories they’d had with Felicia, but Melissa hadn’t gone. To her it had felt like a slap in the face. It had felt like the final blow in a fight she couldn’t win.
“What she wanted was to imagine me going through life, happy without her. It gave her an excuse to give up. I wanted her to fight, to fight with everything she had to stay here with me, but she just gave up.” Her tears dried up, turning into anger.
“That was her choice, it was her life,” he said softly.
“But it was the wrong choice, can’t you see that?” Melissa sat up, staring at him incredulously.
“The wrong choice for you. You haven’t told me the whole story but I’m guessing she decided not to go through treatment?”
She nodded, “She wouldn’t even take any of the experimental drugs, or try any alternative treatments. She just gave up.”
“To you it felt like giving up. What do you think it felt like to her?”
“She said she wanted to enjoy the time she had left without being poked and prodded and made even sicker by the drugs. But if she had just tried then she might have recovered.”
“And if she hadn’t recovered, she would have died anyway and suffered a great deal more,” Owen put his hand on top of hers. “It was her choice.”
“So I’m just supposed to accept it? Accept that my best friend, my sister, my twin, decided that life wasn’t worth fighting for?”
“What else can you do?”
Such a simple question, asked with tenderness in his voice. It floored her. There was nothing she could do, being angry, making herself miserable, distancing herself from everyone, none of that was going to change what had happened or how it had happened. Melissa’s hands flew to her face.
“I just miss her so much,” she sobbed, broken by the realization that none of her suffering mattered. None of it was going to bring her sister back.
“I know sweetheart, I know,” his arms encircled her and he held her for a long time while they rocked and she cried for her lost sister.
⋆⋆⋆
The hot bath was exactly what she needed. Owen had carried her into the large bathroom and settled her on a simple wooden bench that sat across from the tub as he turned the taps on the bathtub. Then he’d left her to soak, alone with her thoughts.
Her body felt drained from the crying jag and the sudden realization that she had been selfish. She’d spent the past six months angry at her sister and taking it out on her family and friends, secluding herself away from them as punishment for something they hadn’t been able to control any more than she had.
It was going to stop. She had to start living again. Not for Felicia, not because she would have wanted her to be happy, but for herself. Maybe she’d never be the same perky girl she had been a year ago, before sickness had turned her life upside down and stolen her sister from her, but she could figure out who she was as she went. The only other option was to continue as she had been, eeking out an existence fed on nothing but misery alone. That was the easy thing to do, to wallow in her grief to stay angry, to blame the world, her sister, and God for things that couldn’t be changed, but she wasn’t going to do it anymore. She was going to start living again.
And she was going to begin with thoroughly enjoying the wonderful man who had held her so tenderly in his arms while she’d cried. She was going to stop second guessing everything and just enjoy the little presents life sent her way. Like a gorgeous artist, who blew her mind in bed and then turned around and soothed her soul.
No, it’d be a shame to pass up such a gift from fate, especially when he seemed to be exactly what she needed.
Owen pulled out a frying pan, drizzling a little olive oil in it before setting it on the stove. He’d woken up with Melissa curved into his body. She felt warm and soft, like she was made to fit exactly where she was. But he knew that she wasn’t, he knew that last night had been a mistake. For a lot of different reasons but mainly because she was young and vulnerable and he should have known better.
He did know better but he hadn’t been able to resist. He knew she’d wanted him and knew that she wore that damn see through dress just so he’d lose control and he’d played right into her hands. It had been stupid of him, but seeing her there on his porch, the sunlight shining behind her outlining every delicious curve of her body, the hint of pink nipple under white fabric, the uncertain look of need and embarrassment in her eyes. How was a man supposed to resist that? Much less him, someone who hadn’t been with a woman in four damn years.
That was stupid too. He might have still been hurting over his Lindsey’s death but he was human, and humans had needs. He’d realized that while he was talking to Melissa about her own refusal to embrace life. He had been doing the same exact thing she had just to a lesser extent. Denying himself the pleasure of being with a woman, for both sex and companionship, was to some extent just as bad as Melissa cutting everyone out of her life. It also led to doing stupid things, like sleeping with a vulnerable girl who is still coping with the loss of her sister.
He broke the eggs and swirled them in a bowl with a whisk, adding a touch of milk, salt and pepper. On the other hand, maybe it was something she needed. A distraction. He wasn’t sure he’d call what happened between them a distraction, there had been too much of a connection, energy surging between them like an electrical storm. He hadn’t had a connection like that since he’d lost Lindsey. Maybe it was what he needed too. A hot and fast affair that would get him back into the swing of things, ease him back into being with women in general. Maybe this was exactly the thing that would help both of them climb over the huge swell of loss that seemed to accumulate inside if you didn’t work to dispel it.
And she wasn’t that young anyway, eight years could be forgiven, couldn’t it? She wasn’t a child that was for sure, her body was slim and lithe but filled out in all the right places. He remembered the feel of her breast in the palm of his hand, the curve of her bottom as he grabbed her and pressed her to him. His body responded at the thought and he grinned to himself. No she was certainly a woman. All he had to do was keep it light and simple and everything should be ok. For both of them.
“It smells like heaven in here,” she said from behind him, he turned his head to respond but stopped. She stood leaning against the door frame, wearing nothing but one of his white tee shirts that clung to her damp skin, giving the tantalizing outline of her body. Her dark hair curling around her shoulders and sticking to her skin where neither had yet dried. The words he’d been about to say died on his tongue as need flared inside him and his already half hard erection came to full attention. It was ridiculous for someone to be able to have that effect on him.
He cleared his throat, making sure to keep his body pointed towards the stove, “I’m making omelets, I thought you might be hungry. I know I feel like I’m about to starve.” That was the truth but he’d much rather throw her down on the counter and ravish that damp body and leave the stupid eggs to burn.
“I could eat all the eggs in town and a few of the chickens too,” she pulled out a barstool and settled herself at the island in the middle of the kitchen, “This is really a beautiful kitchen you have.”
He glanced around at the spartan room. Everything was functional, he felt li
ke he had enough art crowding the rest of the house, but he still couldn’t resist trying to tie beauty in with necessity. “Thank you, I don’t actually spend a lot of time here. There are so many great restaurants close by that I have a hard time convincing myself it’s worth the time to cook for just myself.”
“But you like to cook, why else would you have a…” she held up a marble baking slab, “one of these things, or that thing, or that,” she pointed out different cooking utensils he had hanging from a wire rack above the island.
“I do, but it just doesn’t seem like it’s worth the effort,” he shrugged as he folded the omelet in half, incasing the ham, mozzarella and fresh basil he’d plucked from a pot by the window. Lindsey had worked long hours, so he had started cooking because somebody had to, but as the years went by and they’d had a child he’d found he loved trying new recipes and serving a hot homemade meal to his family. It was just another thing he’d lost when Lindsey and Parker died.
He plated the omelet and sat it down in front of her. “Aren’t you going to make yourself one?”
“Yes, but tell me what you think first. I might have to make you a different one and eat that one myself if you don’t like it.”
She cut the bright yellow semi-circle with her fork and tested one bite, her eyes rolling back, “If you try to take this from me we’re going to have to fight.”
Owen smiled and turned back to the counter that held the eggs, he’d forgotten how nice it was to feed someone good food.
“Seriously,” she said between bites, “You can cook for me anytime you feel like it.”
“How about tonight? I’ve got some work to do today but I might have time to swing by the market and grab the stuff to make a ratatumbo,” he asked impulsively, before he changed his mind.
“I don’t know what that is, but I’ve had enough fast food this summer to last a lifetime. I’ll gladly try your… ratumbo. As long as it doesn’t actually have any rats in it.”
He laughed, “No it’s a cross between ratatouille and gumbo. It’s delicious but it’s basically just a big stew with everything thrown in the pot.” He sat down on the stool beside her with his own omelet, she’d already cleared her plate and was eyeing his before he even got settled. “Did you want another one?”
“Maybe just a one little bite of yours, I’m pretty sure it looks better than mine.”
He smiled and cut a piece for her, holding it out on his fork for her to bite. Her lips closed over it and slid slowly back, savoring it as she chewed. Owen was entranced. He’d just gotten his body back under control after her appearance in the doorway but he couldn’t help it. He wanted her.
He placed the fork on his plate and turned towards her, his hands skimming up her bare thigh and under the hem of the shirt. He heard her sharp intake of breath and knew that the bolt of desire he’d felt was hitting her too.
Leaning in close to her he kissed her neck, inhaling the scent of her freshly scrubbed skin before whispering softly in her ear, “You can have it all, for a price.”
Her arms wrapped around him and she pulled his body closer to her, rubbing those maddening lips lightly across his, before crushing herself to him. Owen let the need take over, picking her up and propping her on the counter as he ripped off her shirt, his boxer shorts hitting the floor shortly thereafter. He entered her hard and fast and she moaned out his name as she arched against him in the bright morning light, hunger of a different kind taking over.
The song spilled out of her unnoticed as she grabbed her toothbrush and toothpaste from off of the counter in the bathroom. Not that she minded sharing Owen’s after all the other bodily fluids they’d exchanged but if she was going to spend almost every night with him she might as well have her own toothbrush. And shampoo. And deodorant, she reminded herself, snatching it off the shelf as well.
She finished in the bathroom, packing almost everything she had, and went into the bedroom and stood in front of the closet. The clothing situation was going to be difficult but she couldn’t afford to keep taking a taxi between her house and downtown every day to get fresh panties. She still had enough left out of her college fund to stay in the rental for another six months or so without scrimping but after that she’d have to figure out what she was going to do. But Melissa didn’t want to think about that right now. Right now she just wanted to be lost in the moment.
The last week and a half with Owen had been a whirlwind, a dream in a whirlwind. One she wasn’t ready to give up. She had been at his side almost nonstop the entire time. Watching him work, eating pizza in front of the tv, walking through downtown to the market to grab the ingredients for whatever he was cooking, just going about daily life… and having an insane amount of sex every moment in-between.
She quivered again at the thought of his hands on her, in the bed, in the shower, on the stairs, the balcony, even in a graveyard. A giggle erupted when she thought about the mosquito bites she’d acquired during that little tryst.
Everyday Owen found something to draw, he said just to keep in practice but she couldn’t see that he needed any, and that particular day he’d decided that he wanted to walk down to an old out of the way cemetery and draw some of the tombstones. It had been a pleasant day, not too warm with a nice breeze, and the sun was shining bright in a blue sky. A good day to be out, so she had tagged along.
They walked down Church Street and through a little side alley, past a church with crumbling paint, and through a wrought iron fence. Melissa was amazed that such a treasure was hidden so thoroughly. If you walked by the little gate you would probably expect it to lead to a tiny church yard used for picnics or children’s church, but what you actually found was a huge lot full of leaning tombstones, bricked paths lined with lush jungle foliage that gave the appearance of threatening to take over even though she could tell it was carefully landscaped. It was like walking into the wardrobe and realizing you’d accidentally found a magical land.
Owen had quickly found the tombstone he wanted to sketch, an old obelisk, taller than she was, the writing worn down and unreadable. She decided to ramble around her newly discovered Narnia while he was working. Every twist and turn held a new secret. A civil war hero. A monument to the unknown dead. Little cherubs standing guard over tiny graves. A statue that was so artfully sculpted she had to touch it, the skin so human it was almost eerie. And it was so peaceful, before she realized it more than an hour had passed and she made her way back to Owen to see how his work was coming.
But instead of disturbing him she just watched. She loved to see him work, the quick sure strokes of his hand across paper, the darting looks he gave to his subject to make sure he was capturing things just right. It stirred something in her. He had begun the painting of her on the balcony but every time he tried to work on it she somehow managed to derail him. He was just so damn sexy, she couldn’t help herself.
Light filtering through the trees dappled that sandy blonde hair that drove her crazy as he sat on the large wooden beam being used to keep the creeping landscape at bay. His entire concentration was devoted to what he was doing and she took a moment just to enjoy looking at him. He really was the most beautiful person she’d ever seen. From the depths of eyes that seemed to bore a hole into her soul when she looked into them to his finely sculpted body, he was beautiful. But it was his hands that always entranced her, they were large but with elegant tapered fingers that could paint the most subtle of shadows or entice the most exquisite pleasure when they played across her body.
She felt herself flush as she remembered how she had attacked him in the cemetery, lust taking over good sense. It was pure luck that no one had seen them, her straddling him, skirt around her waist and head thrown back with abandon. Or maybe they had and had just left without saying anything. The flush deepened at the thought, she wasn’t sure what had possessed her.
Yes she was, it was Owen. She was possessed with desire for him. And not just his body. She wanted all of him, she wanted his time, she wanted hi
s smiles, she wanted his laughter, but most of all she wanted his love.
Melissa sat down hard on the bed, clutching a pair of blue jeans she’d just pulled out of a drawer to her chest. She was falling in love with him, the realization made her a little dizzy and she fell the rest of the way back on the bed, bouncing on impact.
“Oh, lord,” she said to nobody as she let it sink in. She was falling in love. No, she was already there. The falling had happened and she hadn’t even noticed it. Somewhere between when she’d met him, numb and miserable, and now he had stolen her heart. He’d also lightened it. He had helped her cope with the complex feelings of loss and betrayal she was still feeling about her sister’s death, made her laugh even when it felt alien and weird to do so, let her talk when she needed to talk and cry when she needed to cry, until she was actually beginning to feel like a normal human being again. Normal and in love.
Well, there were worse things she could be, she figured. She could still be moping around eating frozen dinners and watching Netflix. That was worse than being in love. Slightly. Doubt filled her head, what if he didn’t feel the same way? When she was just thinking of him as a summer fling, one she’d leave and remember fondly as the guy who got her out of her funk, she hadn’t been all that worried about how he felt about her. He obviously enjoyed having sex with her, and since he kept asking her to hang around maybe he didn’t mind her company too much. But love? That was a big thing, especially for a man who had lost his wife and child. One who said he hadn’t dated or slept with anyone since she had died. Love was asking a lot of someone in his situation.
She beat her fist against the bed, she wished she hadn’t even thought the word love. It made everything that much more complicated.
Well she didn’t have to confess her love to him today or tomorrow. There would be time to figure things out. Maybe she could just continue to pretend to herself that she was just along for a fun ride and that she didn’t want to smother him with declarations of adoration.