Authors: K. Larsen
Some say that joy is greater than sorrow, and others say sorrow is greater; I say they are the same. When one is with you, the other is simply asleep within you. Sometimes I pity myself. Memories jolt me painfully. They hug me as I cry. I despise the power that lies in those wet drops that fall from my eyes. When that sadness surfaces in front of me, larger than any I have witnessed before, I realize that something is happening to me. That life has not forgotten me. That it holds me in its hand and will not let me fall. Learning to live is learning to let go. Unanswered questions are a part of life. Strange, that all that is, all that was, now isn’t. Perhaps gradually, someday far in the future, I will, without even noticing it, be content. Be open. Memories can tell me only what I once was. They cannot help me find what I must become.
I wonder what Matteo would do if I turned to face him and kissed his mouth. I watch him often. The way he looks at me. The way his lips move when he speaks. His gentleness with me. His devotion. There is a tension growing between us. Intensity. It’s sublime torture. The way he looks at me. The way he’s patient with me.
~
***
~
In hindsight, that had been the start of their union. Their friendship long established, those early days in hiding, in healing, had sparked something inside her. Something that wasn’t innocent or friendly. It was the start of furtive glances stolen, smiles that promised something more, innocent touches that burned brighter than the stars. The tension that kept rising, and the undeniable attraction grew more tender with each day that passed. He hadn’t known then of course, but reading her words took him back to a moment he’d long forgotten.
He’d cancelled his appointments for the day effectively calling in sick. Pushing through the studio door he surprised Celeste. Startled by the unexpected visit she let out a small puff of air that set Max on high alert at the end of her bed. The dog lay back down quickly.
“What are you doing here?” she asked wearing a grin. She lazily pet the dog. He sauntered to the kitchenette and set down a paper bag. He poked through the cabinet until he found a suitable cup for the flowers under his arm.
“I wanted to spend the day with you. I know you’re bored.” Setting the flowers into the water-filled cup he carried them to her nightstand and set them there.
“Did I do something to deserve your company?” she laughed before admiring the bouquet.
“No. A man can miss a woman can’t he?” He was nervous. His statement was more suggestive than friendly and he wasn’t sure how it would be received. He’d long been in love with Celeste. Since the class they’d met in so many years ago. She regarded him with a half-smile and nodded. Pulling a paperback from the paper bag he tossed it onto the bed. He watched as she reached toward her feet to retrieve the book. Picking up his own novel and a bunch of grapes he made his way back to where she lay. She scooted, as best she could to the left, allowing more room for him to sit comfortably next to her. Their shoulders had brushed together.
He sat, book open in his lap, watching her read. Watching the way her expression changed each time she read a scene. The way she popped grapes into her mouth. Her lips. The way the hair on his arm stood up with a static-like feeling each time their arms brushed each other’s. There was a tension between them that never was before. Every so often he’d catch her watching him and vice versa. Stolen moments that seemed to drive the temperature in the small space up.
Still healing, Celeste grew tired easily. As she drifted off, he played with a strand of her hair. If she only knew how much she played with his emotions. What would it finally be like to kiss her? To feel her lips on his. Soft pink lips. He sometimes caught her looking at him with want. But that couldn’t be. Not now. Not so close on the heels of her husband. The mere thought of Gabriel ignited something deep inside him that had never existed before. Hate. It ran deep too. Watching Gabriel pull her into his arms that day. Watching the knife come out. Knowing she couldn’t see it. He’d been blind with rage. With a fury so explosive that he’d almost fucked their entire plan by showing himself. Never before had he needed to use such great restraint. But he had. He’d seen the truth behind all of Gabriel’s lies in that moment. And now, now she was here, safe for now, alive. He watched her snore lightly and smiled at her. He would do, had done, anything for her even if his feelings were never returned.
Matteo set the journal aside and cracked his neck. He’d been in his wife’s life for the better part of four decades. Their story was a difficult one; not always, but enough so that he was certain that they would make it through anything if they were together. He’d sacrificed much for her but ultimately, if he could go back and change anything, he wouldn’t.
Not everyone would understand their connection. Their mutual desire for resolution. It bonded them further. It was unique to them and he coveted it. It was also nearing its end. They had worked, watched and sat idle for years upon years and now they were winding up for their grand slam, where the game would be won and then what? They had shared dreams, of travel, of relaxation, of seeing what the world had to offer to those blessed with the wealth to pay for it but a small part of him worried that it wouldn’t be enough for her. That she would feel a letdown when this was all over.
He shook the thoughts from his head and stood,
stretched his back, hearing the gratifying pop of vertebrae
. It was late and he needed rest. Tomorrow he needed to visit a few nurseries. Shop plants. It had to be just the right one.
~
***
~
Matteo’s day was rather bland. He’d purchased a potted Gloxinia plant for his wife. Dropped it at the rental then left to follow Tad around for a few hours. The tennis pro was a bore. His tan was fake, his gleaming white teeth displayed an obnoxious glare and the way he not-so-discreetly manhandled Monique was offensive. He’d rather be home reading, watching terrible daytime TV or really doing anything else. But this was a critical part of the plan and needed time invested into it. Monique had been seeing Tad for a good long while now. It was full blown love, easily readable in her expressions. Whether or not Tad truly returned that love, wasn’t as obvious. No matter. All that was needed were Monique’s feelings. It would truly be a shame the day she got his suicide letter insinuating she was the cause. She was mentally frail since losing her son; it was as obvious as the sun shining. So frail that it would only take one more small intrusion to break her.
He thought about Cece, how she looked like an angel in the bright summer sun. The way the glassy blue water seemed to wink at her on clear days. So full of grace that when she walked, she floated like a feather. So special. His.
Monique turned in Tad’s arms outside the hotel. Kissed him passionately. When they tore themselves apart Matteo could practically see the thorn twist in her side. There was hope in their eyes, as if they were thinking that through the storm they would reach the shore together. But Monique would be landing on the shore alone. Matteo smiled. His hands were tied, for now. But the longer she gave herself away to Tad, the more effective the revenge.
April 2014
~ Matteo ~
LYING IN WAIT- waiting and watching for an opportune time to act. The lying in wait need not continue for any particular period of time provided that its duration is such as to show a state of mind equivalent to premeditation or deliberation.
He could hear it in her voice as she talked about the girl and it made him nervous. Celeste seemed almost giddy when she relayed their first few visits.
What a brat she is, Matteo. I think she likes me. She’s got something broken in her. It’s evident in her eyes. I can use this. I can use this to build a relationship with her, to gain her trust.
It was beyond him why she cared about gaining Annabelle’s trust. Being at the assisted living facility was just a cover, a means to an end. She didn’t need to stay longer than necessary but as their visit progressed, Celeste made it clear that she intended on staying till the end of Annabelle’s sentence. That the plan had changed. She was telling Annabelle the story of her. Of them. It was dangerous and he said as much but Cece wouldn’t be swayed. Doubts were dangerous. Matteo sighed and smiled at his wife. She was a force to be reckoned with and he knew that no matter how much he wanted this to play out quickly she was now bent on making this last piece of revenge personal. Very personal. He leaned in and kissed her forehead.
“I know Teo. I know,” she sighed. “This wasn’t the plan.”
“No, but if it is what you need, I will wait.” Cece looked up at him and grinned. She grabbed his face and pulled him to her. The kiss fiery and passionate. He kissed her back forcefully, truthfully, ardently.
“You are my moon Teo.” He pushed her soft hair over her shoulder.
“And you are my tide fiore mio.” She rested her cheek on his chest.
“You smell delicious. I miss this smell. Cigarettes and soap.”
He smirked. “I miss you. How can I possibly survive for six months only seeing you twice a month?” He sounded weak but it was also the truth, and they were always honest with each other. Over the last twenty years there had been only a handful of times they had been apart more than a few days. This would test them, challenge them, but he knew deep in his soul they would survive. They had to.
“This gloxinia is gorgeous. I’ll think of you every time I look at it,” she commented.
“I know love, that’s exactly why I brought it.”
“You jealous? How unlike you,” she laughed. He smoothed his thumb over the apple of her cheek.
“Jealous of the other residents? No fiore mio, jealousy has nothing to do with it. My motive is selfish. I want you thinking of me, of us, of our future, while you’re here.”
“Teo, Teo, Teo. You’re worried.”
He was. And he knew Cece could read him without effort. Why he tried concealing anything from the woman was unknown. “Sì, Celeste. You aren’t as ruthless as you want to believe. And that’s okay. It’s why I love you. I don’t want you to grow to like the girl-”
“Annabelle,” she cut him off. He sighed and ran a hand through his cropped hair.
“Yes, like
her.
Gabriel’s daughter,” he amended.
Celeste’s eyes held his. A moment passed between them. He knew that she heard him. That she understood his concerns just from a look.
“I won’t get too close my love. I’m doing this for us. You are my future. We’re so close now to having our lives back free and clear,” she said.
“Yes. We are.”
Celeste pushed up to her toes and snaked her arms around his neck. He bent slightly and scooped her up, hands holding her very tight, very perfect rear. “Enough talk of things we already know. Give me something to dream about until I see you again, husband,” she cooed. Matteo carried her to the bed and reverently stripped his wife bare while placing lingering kisses as he exposed each new section of golden, cashmere-soft skin. “Anything you want fiore mio.” With the ghost of his lips still on her skin, he rid himself of his clothes and worshipped the body that belonged to the woman he loved so deeply.
As he pulled in the driveway of his temporary home he felt lighter. His visit with Cece renewed his focus. He climbed out of the car, swinging the door shut behind him. He held on tight to the memory of the feel of her hair sliding through his fingers, of her lips, soft against his skin. The strength he drew from her in the harshest times kept him hard and attached to the truth of what they were doing. Murder. Utter destruction. His softer side had bled out watching Cece lying on the cold hard pavement. It had vanished as he watched Gabriel put a knife in her back and walk away without a glance backward. He rubbed the bridge of his nose hard, as if he could rub out those memories, the sting of them, away.
~
***
~
1996 - Paris/ Spain
Matteo says it’s not safe here anymore. That we need to leave Paris now. It’s becoming too hard for him to keep up appearances and I’m restless. The last year and change has been a sacrifice but it seems there is no longer anything to gain by being here. We’ve learned nothing new in months and this one room studio driving me mad. Sometimes I think it killed Max. Even the dog couldn’t take it.
I was.
I was.
I was.
I have days where the weariness of a massive stone wall spanning the banks of endless ocean hangs in my chest. Other times I am as numb as a morning fog. A change is taking place within my soul. It’s difficult to adapt because I’m no longer that old person, but not yet the new. As the sun rises and sets I remember her, my old self. In the introduction of buds and the rebirth of spring I remember her. When I’m lost and sick at heart, I remember her. Every time I think of myself, of who I am . . . it’s based on who I was. I feel adrift. I was hopeful. I was kind. I was content, vivacious, the color yellow. Now I don’t know. I’ve been stripped of all the characteristics I associated with myself. I’m dark brown, like mud. I’m confused, anxious, furious and vengeful. I’m split. Torn between two sides of myself that battle for the limelight. Like an index finger on the trigger of a loaded gun, I can feel the temperature inside me rising. I’m coming into my own again. I’m halfway to hell; I’ve made my bed.
I gave so much heart that I am now heartless. I need to fill the empty void that is left over. There was darkness - so much darkness. Gabriel stole my soul for personal gain. He thinks he’s something but consists of only money and opinions. I’ve been black inside. But that black has morphed into diamonds under all the pressure. That’s exactly why I plot and watch and wait. Teo and I bought a one-way train ticket to Spain and I see that I am not afraid. Not really. I deserve this life for all the sacrifice I’ve made.
Maybe I’m crazy. Or foolish. Maybe I don’t know how to love. But maybe I do. And I wonder, does it blow his mind that they never found my body? That I’m leaving him far behind. I wonder, does it stop his heart to know he’s not my gravity anymore? His face is a work of art. His smile could light up the Eiffel Tower. But it’s a shame that a man so handsome has such a repulsive heart. Maybe he’ll get married someday, and maybe she will worship him and maybe on his honeymoon he’ll think of
me
. But it doesn’t matter because I’m gone.
The seasons of my grief evolve. I will not resist the tides. I will give into them. The waves will bring me back to shore. Teo is my moon guided by the tide. I believe in myself. I believe in Teo. I believe in our unlimited potential. I surrender. I surrender to my new self. To my new life.
~
***
~
Some questions Matteo asked himself at night were best left until morning. Some questions stuck up without warning, leaving him restless and anxious.
Be with me tonight, I’m lonely, cold.
He had thought.
Leave this crusade for vengeance.
But Cece was willing to be fearless and thus, he was too. The memory reminded his soul, so he would stay waiting for her. Gabriel destroyed everything Celeste thought was true and she wouldn’t be satisfied-no they wouldn’t be satisfied-until they had taken from him all his truths-his marriage, his children, his identity. Not too much longer now. They were growing ever closer. V
isualizing it was so satisfying, pulling a cigarette out of the pack he kept in his breast pocket he tucked it between his lips before lighting it. Celeste fascinated him still. He flipped through pages of her journal. He had a constant distaste in his mouth when he thought of Gabriel. He closed his eyes for a moment, collecting himself. Letting his mind wander to a time that didn’t revolve around
him.
Them in the empty field in Canada with the stars, in the quaint cafes in Spain, at the restaurant where the course of her life-Dr. B’s life, had changed, quiet candle lit dinners together, times spent in their bed talking about nothing and everything, their late night intimacy, the laughs they shared, the arguments, the make-up sex, the dancing, the kisses and arms tangled together.
He missed the intoxicating scent of flowers in the air. Flowers she worked hard to cultivate. To grow. To nurture. Matteo wanted to find a strand of her hair tangled in the button of his shirt in the middle of the day, or hear the front door open and know by the lightness of her footsteps that she was home.
He wanted to wake up to kisses from his love again.
He focused his attention, a small smile playing on his lips.
“Hearts bend because they can’t break when they have true love to guide them through all that’s thrown at them.”
Cece had whispered that in his ear long ago in a remote house in Spain. It was true. It was their truth, together they could fair anything.