The One (83 page)

She opens her eyes when she hears the
click of the door. She knows he was there, she felt him caress her hair. She
sighs; she can
’
t get mad at him for doing it. He
’
s happy to see her, reassured. How many
times had he done it in the past after one of her trips? She can
’
t recall. Countless times.

She goes to the bathroom and looks at
herself in the mirror.

You can do this
, she tells herself.

((~~!~~))

She meets him on the terrace, where the table is set.
He
’
s reading the newspaper and having a glass
of wine.

I wish I could
, she thinks, but says out loud,
“
What a beautiful day! I had forgotten how
magnificent Sydney could be.
”
She sits, he smiles, and lifts the different silver
dish covers hiding her food. She laughs when she sees her favourite avocado and
shrimps salad in one of her special bowls.

“
Marina has outdone herself today, so the
day is perfect in all aspects
”
he chuckles. She nods, and asks,
“
You
’
re not eating?
”
as she notices he
’
s not even looking at the food.
“
Sure, I
’
ll have a little. But this is mostly for
you.
”
he says, smiling gently.

She dives in, and can
’
t help herself, but moan as the flavors
hit her tongue. He looks at her intensely as he sees the physical side effects
and her face is getting flustered, but he then avert his gaze when she catches
him.

Dear God, does she even realize?
, he thinks, marvelling at the fact that
she is still doing it.

Of course, not, it
’
s not like she is doing it on purpose, just
be grateful, she still does it,
he admonishes himself.

He barely touches his plate during the
entire meal; he is so engrossed in the sound of her.

When she is done, he is amazed at the
amount of food she has ingested.

Where does it all go
, he wonders, looking at the empty plates
but he
’
s distracted when he hears her laugh.

He looks up, and she is laughing,
carefree. He feels his heart swells, and asks,
“
What
’
s so funny?
”

“
Me,
“
she replies.
“
I can
’
t believe how much I
‘
ve eaten! But in my defense, I blame
Marina! What was the woman thinking putting out all this yummy food in front of
me?!
”
and she chuckles, again.

“
I
’
m happy to see you haven
’
t lost your appetite!
”
he says, enthused,
”
I can recall when you used to clear out
the table
…”
his voice
trails, and he doesn
’
t finish, as he sees her eyes darken. They
both recall, that time in their life.

God, I should have been more careful, I
hope he doesn
’
t
suspect anything
, she
thinks.

She clears her throat, and asks,
“
Ethan, can you take me for a spin to Pearl
Beach?
”

“
Sure.
”
He says, surprised by the unexpected
request.
”
Are you planning to swim?
”
he wonders, curious.

“
No,
”
she says,
“
We
’
ll walk. It will help me digest
…
and, we
’
ll talk.
”
she adds with a bright smile.

((~~!~~))

She chooses one of her convertibles to go there. She
doesn
’
t even seem surprised that her 5 sport
cars,
–
I bought her one for each birthday she
has spent in Australia-, are still here, in the garage. She caresses her silver
Pagani
Zonda
C12, almost
like she would an old lover, looks at me and smiles, but then she goes straight
to the shiny black powerhouse: the Gran
Turismo
Convertible, the least ostentatious of the five but as powerful, the one she
mostly drove when she was still happy. But today, I
’
m the one at wheels and as I speed
throughout the northern highway, her curls are flowing in the breeze and she is
making these little joyous cries as I increase the speed by changing gear. She
’
s always loved sports cars.
The faster,
the better, but they have to be sexy too
, she used to say. I indulged her
every year with a new one just to see the joy on her face on her birthday when
her latest toy was unveiled. I think it must have been a while since she
’
s been in one. I
’
ll have to ask. It makes me think of all
the things she has repressed while she
’
s been away, and I feel guilt. But is goes
away quickly when I hear her shout, nothing intelligible, but a shout none
less. She looks at me, her eyes are gleaming, her cheeks flushed, and she is
spotting a blinding smile. When we get to the beach, and the car is parked, she
simply says,
“
Thank you.
”
I want to hold her in my arms, instead, I
say,
”
Anytime. I
’
ll drive you anywhere you want.
“

She
’
s not wearing any shoes. She actually left
the house as she was while having lunch; only wearing a sundress. She says,
pointing at my covered feet,
“
E. hurry, the beach is awaiting!
”
I am a bit shocked by her enthusiasm. I
mean the day is going well, maybe too well. I am almost afraid of what she
wants to talk about now that we are here.

As we descent the dune toward the beach,
she lets me take her hand, she doesn
’
t recoil, nor say anything. She feels warm, and so does my heart.

Once we are on the beach, she run towards
the water, and dips her feet up to her knees in it, and she closes her eyes.
She doesn
’
t move. It
’
s almost like she is praying. The water is
swaying against her, making some part of her dress soaked, but she doesn
’
t move.

I can
’
t help but just watch her, mesmerized. I
know what
’
s happening here. She is feeling. Feeling
the salted water, feeling the sand between her toes, letting the ocean smell
hit her nostrils. Once again, I wonder how much she has repressed during those
years.

Finally, she opens her eyes and looks at
me. He dress is wet and clinging tight against her body. She looks like a siren
coming out of the ocean. I can feels my loins awakening at the sight.

Dear God, she is beautiful.

As she comes towards me, I feel paralysed.
As she stands in front of me, she looks into my eyes, and in a steady and clear
voice says,
“
E. Do you hate me?
”

I am stunned. Of all the things, she could
have said, this is the one I didn
’
t expect.

((~~!~~))

I remove the sweater I
’
m wearing and tell her to put it on as I
see goose bumps on her skin.

Once she is covered, I hold both her arms,
and says, looking straight at her,
“
Shouldn
’
t I be the one asking that question?
”

She stares back and doesn
’
t reply, but says,
“
Let
’
s walk.
”

We walk in silence for a long time, our
hands brushing against each other occasionally. We
’
ve covered a good stretch of the beach
when she finally stops and turning towards me, says,
“
No Ethan, I don
’
t hate you.
”
Her expression is unreadable, her eyes
are just clear.

I inhale deeply, as I realize I
’
ve been taking shallow breaths during the
entire walk, so afraid of her answer, it prevented me from breathing normally.

She is still watching me. I had forgotten
how these green eyes could make me feel all kinds of shame. I just say,
“
Let
’
s go back to the car. I don
’
t want you to catch a cold on your first
day.
”
she just nods, and follows me.

The entire ride back home is in silence. I
can
’
t talk to her. Too many things to say, she
would be overwhelmed, it
’
s too soon for that.

My free hand is resting on her knee when I
’
m not changing gears. Her eyes are closed.
I know she is not asleep, but thinking.

Thinks a lot, says little.
I used to tease her.

Vic has never been one to waste words. I
smile.

She has given me a gift today by telling
me she doesn
’
t hate me. I don
’
t want to spoil it.

I know why she thinks I hate her, truth
is, I never could, no matter how hard I tried.

Tomorrow will come soon enough.

((~~!~~))

That night Marina has left us alone. When we return from
the beach, a note is informing us, she is spending the evening at her daughter
’
s, and will see us for breakfast in the
morning.

I smile at the foresight of the dear
woman, she has been with me for over 15 years now, and she knows more than
anyone how Vic changed my life, what having her back means.

As we are in the massive kitchen, I watch
my wife eat. Once again, her appetite mesmerizes me.

She still looks as thin as she was when
she left, - she never was one to gain much weight, except during the pregnancy,
and that
’
s when her appetite has been heightened
the most-, and I wonder what changed to make her eat that much. Is she
compensating for the lack of something? I want to ask, but restrain myself. I
don
’
t think it
’
s good idea. She looks way too happy to
eat like a starving woman on her first meal. It must be something else.

The conversation is light, she asks me
about my work, and I ask about hers, how it feels to be practicing law again
and the perils of being at the mercy of wealthy, capricious clients. We laugh.
We still share the same derisive and caustic sense of humor.

We clean the dishes together and laugh
some more at the incongruity of us being in our kitchen sharing such a mundane
act.

We have a nightcap on the terrace, herbal
tea for her, scotch for me, and as I look at her, I feel happy, for the first
time in such a long time, I don
’
t know how to react. I just can
’
t quite believe, she is here, alive and
she doesn
’
t hate me.

It
’
s perfect. Almost.

I want to mention Luca, but I can
’
t. I feel the familiar lump in my throat
when I think of him, and get up from my chaise saying, we should retire for the
evening; she must still feel tired after the flight.

She looks puzzled but doesn
’
t contradict me, and we head upstairs.

We kiss, and surprisingly, she is the one
who initiates it.

As we say goodnight, and we are standing
in front of her bedroom, she comes into my arms and whispers against my neck,
“
Goodnight. E
”
. I hold her and caress her hair, smelling
it, returning the same words.  Our eyes meet as our bodies part and she
says,
“
Thank you for today.
”
I tilt my head, understanding, but she
surprises me by rising on her toes and landing a light kiss on my lips.