by Xavier Neal
He wedges the end of the stogie into his mouth on another laugh while I mimic his stance.
We linger wordlessly in the afternoon air for a few moments. The peafowls are chatting, wind whispering, and guards crunching leaves during their patrolling. It’s not the most soothing combination of sounds, yet I somehow find serenity in them. Tobacco continues its calming task of letting clarity ensue and the soothing of my seared senses.
Forcing Chantal to be her old self is like me trying to force Miko to stop challenging Shay.
It’s a wasted effort.
It’s going with the grain of the steak when I should be going against it.
I don’t want toughness.
More meat that’s hard to chew.
I want to savor my meal and be fulfilled by what has been bestowed upon me.
“You know, Beni,” Miko casually begins on a slow release of smoke, “sometimes the answers for our struggles appear when we stop looking for them.”
The question of what he’s referencing rushes to the tip of my tongue, but is instantly stopped from appearing.
Jazzy, cheerfully, pulls her dog past a member of security to keep the stride of their walk solid.
An idea begins to percolate in my mind forcing my stare to his.
He mischievously grins, indicating we’re thinking two completely different things.
I remove the cigar and breathe out my smoke on another amused headshake.
He may train Dario to do his job. Hell, he may even learn to do it better, but the truth is, there are parts of my cousin that no one will ever be able to replace.
And, those are the parts that I know I’ll miss most.
Chapter 10
Miko plucks another piece of cantaloupe from my bowl of fruit. “That Kellar dude needs to get his shit together.” He pops the chunk of melon into his mouth and continues his rambling, “Like, what the fuck is his problem? How can he be so blind to the fact that that chick fucking loves him?” There’s more smacking. Another hunk grabbed. “And, why the fuck am I so invested in this show now?”
The tiniest laugh lingers at the back of my throat like it tends to nowadays.
Instead of releasing it, letting it have a full life, and possibly be appreciated, it stalls there.
Gets stage fright.
Fear never used to be bigger than my joy.
Fuck, fear never used to have so much fucking control over me.
Now, it taunts me every fucking minute of free time it gets.
It’s why engrossing myself in television has become so important to me.
It’s helped lead me to a state of acceptance. It allows me to understand that there are situations I can’t control, yet even within them, there are things that I can. With just the simple press of a button, I can stop everything. Rewind a moment. Push past another. I can hear them as loud as I want or not at all. Dr. Greggory recommended I cope with the dynamics of power and powerlessness in whatever healthy way I could.
I’m pretty sure this isn’t what she meant, but since she didn’t specify, I’m gonna say fuck it, and keep doing it until I can handle doing something else.
“Fuck, she’s hot,” Miko mumbles about the onscreen lead taking the center of the ring in a provocative costume. “Really,” he pops a grape into his mouth, “the whole fucking cast is hot.”
“Smettila,” Beni fusses from the doorway of the room.
Stop that.
“She needs her strength,” he insists during his stroll inside. “Sta mangiando per due.”
She's eating for two.
“Yeah, well, so am I,” Miko immediately retorts. “Me and her.”
Another laugh leaps up my throat; however, it still doesn’t make it past my lips that are curling.
My fiancé stops beside his second who’s sitting in the seat at my bedside, eyeballing the half-eaten bagel. He lets his exhausted gaze fall into mine on a warm, “Buongiorno, Mia Bella.”
It hurts to know I’m the reason he isn’t sleeping.
And, I know he’s not.
No one could ever actually get any quality rest contorting in that chair rather than stretching out on a mattress.
And, while part of me longs to share the bed with him again, have his warm, firm body braced against mine, adding that layer of protection I loved that only he could, the other part refuses. Doesn’t want to be trapped in a small space with another human being. Wrongfully worries that he might try to touch me when I don’t want to be touched – all because of what happened on that island.
Fuck that island and all its inhabitants.
Fuck that island and all of them even more for starting a war inside of me with no projected victor.
Fuck that island and them for stripping me of my dignity, sanity, and strength.
They took almost all the fight I had in me.
Even that in itself is nauseating.
One week?
One fucking week is all that I could take before breaking?!
Of that, just two days of…physical and mental torture?
What would Dad say?
How fucking disappointed would he be?
“No, good morning in return?” Beni inquires in a seemingly polite way.
Too bad I can hear the slight tremble in his voice.
The small ache of sadness that’s getting harder and harder to ignore.
I spot the tiny tick in his cut jaw and additional pain appears in my chest.
God, I miss touching his face.
I miss feeling the stubbles against my cheek.
My thighs.
Momentarily silencing the fearful side, I offer him a soft smile alongside a simple, “Buongiorno, Beni.”
Gratitude grows instantaneously in his expression.
Our days aren’t exactly filled with much conversation anymore. Sometimes it’s because that part of me is locked up so far in the back of my mind, he couldn’t hear me even if I tried. Others, I don’t know what to say or where to start. We can’t just pick up like I’ve been away on a long vacation, but I’m not ready to recount the things that I went through.
Not with him.
Hell, I don’t know that I will ever be able to talk about those things with him.
“Did you actually get to eat anything, or did my cousin do most of the damage to that plate?”
Miko moves the tray from my lap to his. “Let’s stop attacking me for being mindful about wasting food.” He prepares to take a bite of my bagel. “You’re gonna miss me doing this shit when I’m gone.”
His words dart my brow down in confusion.
What the fuck does that mean?
Where the fuck is he going?!
My mouth moves to interrogate them on the subject when Beni promptly questions, “Would you like them to make you something else, Mia Bella?”
I dart my stare back to his.
“You haven’t requested anything specific to eat, so I’ve just been having them tailor the menu to Doctor Gregory’s suggestions.”
The Playboy model they hired to tend to me.
She’s nice enough.
Articulate as fuck.
There’s a certain grace to which she makes commands that they feel more like suggestions.
If she ever decides to give up medicine – doubtful by the passion she has for it when she speaks – she could always take up a career in gold digging. It wouldn’t be hard, but they certainly would be. I mean…Miko constantly is, and she’s already informed him she’s more attracted to Jazzy than him.
Unfortunately, hearing that just sent him spiraling in the wrong direction.
“She has a whole list of recommendations for what a woman can eat broken down by trimester.” His hands find their way to his jet-black suit pants pockets. “We can review it together if you like. You can…circle your preferences. Give the kitchen a more definitive direction to go.”
Trimester.
Pregnant.
God, I’m really pregnant.
How it surviv
ed the hell of that week I endured is a miracle. Maybe Dad was the guardian angel ensuring our journey back here. Or, maybe the combination of stubborn genes between Beni and I somehow have it already built to be a fucking fighter before it’s even finished growing in the womb.
I want to be happy that I’m pregnant.
Excited.
I want us to celebrate this life we made and get to raise, yet all I keep wondering about is what horrible shit they will have to face. What monsters in the dark will wait to try to take him or her like they took me? I continuously wonder how do I swallow that trepidation along with all the other anxiety that doesn’t seem to understand its place anymore?
Beni clears his throat to capture my wandering attention once more. “È un no?”
Is that a no?
“Later,” I quietly surrender to the suggestion.
“Very well then.” He attempts another polite smile that is obviously painful. “Would you care to join us for some fresh air this morning?”
My eyes cut Miko a curious glance prompting him to rapidly shake his head.
Confusion crawls into my stare at the same time it soars back to him.
“Dario,” Beni swiftly summons.
The tall, tan buzz cut man that’s always stationed outside of my room when Beni and Miko aren’t in it strolls in with the most unexpected surprise.
“Tank!”
He scrambles across the floor the best he can, considering it's too slick for him to grasp good traction. His wiggling body continues to squirm during his pursuit to come closer while Dario – a face I feel I’m going to need to become more familiar with – struggles to keep himself from being dragged.
“Jazzy had business to tend to in Keleston this morning, so I offered for us to walk him. Perhaps even toss his toy around.”
Amusement is invited to cover my face. “You hate dogs.”
“Sì, they are far from my favorite, but,” his head angles itself to one side as adoration dances in his gaze, “I will buy a thousand of them to see that joy in your eyes again.”
Love swells my chest to a size I was starting to think it would never grow again.
“Mille?” Miko mocks between bites. “Who the fuck do you think you two are? Roger and Anita?”
“Who?” Beni’s genuine perplexity prompts me to snicker. The sound sends his attention back to me. A mixture of hope and happiness and relief spins out of control. “E stai ridendo?”
And, are you laughing?
I can hardly fathom the action myself. However, instead of dwelling on how it broke free or whether I shouldn’t be able to do it at all, I simply slide out of the bed while teasing, “How do you not know who Roger and Anita are from 101 Dalmatians?”
His cluelessness remains.
“Seriously?!”
“Te l'avevo detto…” Miko mocks more.
I told you…
“He has lived a very sheltered life.” His cousin chortles as he leans over to feed Tank a piece of melon.
“You know Hugh Laurie from House-”
“I fucking loved House,” Miko immediately gushes.
“When do you find time to consume this much television?” Beni battles his instinct to scowl with the one to smile at the sight of me wiggling on the pair of tennis shoes that haven’t been touched since I arrived.
“I don’t know…it just happens.”
His casual response successfully pulls a frown to Beni’s face.
“Hugh Laurie was actually in the live action version with Glenn Close,” I inform on my way around the bed for Tank. “He played Jasper.”
Miko dramatically gasps. “What?! I don’t remember that shit!”
I enthusiastically nod.
“Huh,” he huffs out, voice dripping with his classic brand of humor, “just when you think you know someone.”
More giggles spring free of their own accord, and my hand rushes to my mouth to stop them.
“It is alright to laugh, Mia Bella,” Beni promptly reassures. “Whether it’s with him or at him doesn’t really matter.”
“Hey!”
Another set of snickers slips past my sprawled fingers, shoving aside the emotions in my mind that demand I only succumb to fear. Foreign feelings of content continue to clamber their way forward, and I do my best to reach out for them.
“Giacca, Mia Bella,” my fiancé kindly states. “It is a bit brisk this morning.”
Finding no reason to argue otherwise, I whisper to Tank it’ll be just one more second until I can pet him and attempt to rush over to where a jacket is hung. The fast movement is a mistake. My under used muscles threaten to collapse underneath me in a rebellious act. Apparently, just getting up to shower and pee and, on occasion, vomit due to morning sickness isn’t enough practiced movement to then sprint across the room.
There’s panic and movement behind me. “Chantal are you-”
The obvious lie tumbles to the tip of my tongue to acrobatically leap off when I lift a hand instead. Rather than pretend I’m fine – something I know I’m not – I state what it is that keeps getting drowned out due to the despair. “Let me do this on my own.” A pleading look is shot over my shoulder. “Please.”
Beni’s stretched out hand falls to his side.
He, begrudgingly, takes a step back.
Motions his hand forward.
Regardless of the redness of embarrassment building in my cheeks, I push through to resume the goal of retrieving my jacket. The long strides are a bit painful yet invigorating. From the bed, the room doesn’t seem so large. Given that the bathroom and the doorway for entry are all on the same side, it almost seems tiny; however, now that I’m moving for more than just a moment, it’s easier to realize how massive it truly is. If necessary, there could be two beds in here for two patients. Possibly even three. More than one doctor and damn sure more than one nurse could work effortlessly around one another. It almost feels selfish to be occupying this much space when it’s probably needed for real soldiers instead of…just a wounded wife.
Future wife.
Assuming he still wants to marry me after the way I was touched by people who weren’t him.
“Mia Bella,” Beni calls out cautiously, “I don’t know where you’re going in that beautiful brain of yours, but ti sto supplicando…I am begging for you to just grab your jacket. Join me and Tank…for a walk.”
His words propel me to push away from the sorrow seducing me to relish in the love being offered to me right now. I, eventually, grab my jacket, slide it on, and release a deep, self-motivating breath.
When I turn back around, the site of eager and excited faces has me shaking my head in a playful way. “This stare fest is only mildly creepy.”
“Buono,” Beni unexpectedly states. “We were aiming for fair to medium creepy, so mildly is a victory I will take.”
Hearing his impish side return fills my veins with more relief.
Lately, he’s been hovering so hard, UFO’s could take notes on how to properly linger in someone’s airspace. It’s not hard to understand his need to be close or desire to not leave me for longer periods of time than absolutely necessary – the reason he turned the living room in this house into his office – but his instinct to be overbearing is somewhat suffocating. And, I don’t know how to tell the man who is just trying to love me that I need the very opposite of what it is he’s providing.
That I need room to breathe on my own.
To grapple with my unsettled emotions…on my own.
That, after having so much of my freedoms taken, doing some shit on my own might be what’s best or most empowering.
Once I cross the room – stride wisely slower than before – I squat down to give Tank some love and take the leash into my possession.
The three of us make our way outside, escorted from a distance by Dario. I silence every inkling inside me to investigate whether the change in security is due to an upcoming trip in which he will take Miko, leaving me here with someone he doesn’t w
ant me to mistake as a total stranger or if there’s something bigger at play that I’m not aware of and try to focus on the fresh air filling my lungs.
Deep breaths are happily taken every step, baptizing me in simple bliss I had forgotten existed.
There’s no pressure to speak.
No insistence that he lead.
Not even an overly cautious reminder to watch where I’m going.
For the first time since I’ve been back at the estate, Beni doesn’t treat me like the fragile female he found, but the capable woman he fell in love with.
“Should we get a dog?” He casually asks from my side as Tank stops to sniff around some bushes.
The absurd question lifts my stare to his.
“I read an article that said caring for a puppy was a good preparation for caring for a child.”
“Fifty bucks says I could find ten articles to dispute that in under three minutes.”
His shoulders shake from his small snigger. “It said it was adequate practice for sleepless nights, unexpected fluid accidents, and unbecoming behaviors that appear in adolescent development such as biting and boundary challenges. It also noted that if you get a puppy at the start of your pregnancy, it’ll bond with the baby in your stomach, and they’ll have an early connection that will last the length of a canine’s lifespan.”
“So, you’ve traded in reading spy thrillers for pregnancy tips?”
Beni immediately frowns at the observation. “I’m trying to be proactive.”
“Proactive would be determining which room will be the baby’s or picking out paint samples for it. Not adding more responsibility to the person who is already going to be doing most of the baby shit on her own.”
“That’s a no on the dog then?”
“That’s a hell no.” My wink is followed by me calling Tank to resume walking.
Beni doesn’t let more than a couple breaths pass prior to stating, “I want to be more present than my father was.”
Shouldn’t be hard from what I understand.
“I’m not sure I could ever measure up to yours,” he cautiously continues, making sure not to say my father’s name, “but I’d like to at least try.”
The warmth of his words receives a matching smile.
Dad was far from perfect, but his flaws only made him more amazing.
