The gotcha smile plays on her lips. The smile that says “You’re wrong about me and kids. Here’s proof.”
“I’ll make toilet then leave.”
As she walks to the bathroom, I walk to the kitchen on a mission.
I can’t wait to dispose of these.
I tear the extras into small pieces and throw them in the kitchen trash, dumping yesterday’s wadded tissues and the morning coffee grinds onto the pile. Turning back toward the entryway, a smile of radiant joy marks my triumph.
Okay, change. Here she comes. Be perturbed.
“I call you later,” she waves me away, dismissively as if swatting away a fly.
After closing and locking the door behind her, I go to the bathroom to check the medicine cabinet. The smell in the room is noxious like rotting trash.
She didn’t flush the toilet.
The ugly sight of bloody water and floating poo makes me hold my nose, turn away and gag. Turning back to flush the toilet with the pull chain, I notice a piece of string.
I can’t flush this because her tampon will probably clog the pipes. This is DISGUSTING! Accident or not? Regardless, I’ve got to fish that out to flush.
Going back to the kitchen, I grab a large straining spoon and the trash, towing it behind me. Holding my breath, I fish out the tampon and place it carefully on top of the coffee grinds, and flush the toilet. With great care, I twist and knot the trash liner. I tote the bag to the front door, unlock it and open it. With one big heave, I hurl it toward the stairs.
33. THE NOTE
Tossing and turning, I finally give up on my hope for sleep. Since I haven’t really slept in days, I check the clock—hoping I logged a few hours.
It’s midnight here; so, probably, noon in the US. My thoughts revert to Dad and how he’d take charge.
Dad, please call me. There’s so much to do, to worry about. It’s overwhelming! The priority is Ethan; then, us. Ethan’s arm could require amputation at this point. Dad always said “Don’t worry about things you can’t control.”
Got to dig deep like I did after the riding accident. Got to be strong, focus on the positive. Got to leverage everything within reach! Hopefully, Viktoria helps me. And Natasha. What’s going on with her? The bathroom, the bullying, the… the blood on her face…the blood that matted her hair. Got to study that, figure it out and use it somehow.
***
Someone is pulling my hair. Is this the dream in which I think I’m awake? Did I fall asleep? Where’s Zack?
With a start, I wake-up. Zack’s hand coils in my hair, tugging to get my attention.
Sitting up, I scoop him up and kiss his hands and head. He grabs my chin and squeezes.
He always makes me smile. He’s perfection in this polar prison.
“Okay, I get it. It’s breakfast time.” Grabbing his little hand, I gently tap the tip of his nose smiling indulgently, sunbeams of happiness warming the moment.
A peek at the clock quickens my pace.
“Wow! Both of us slept late. It’s nine o’clock.”
Like we can go anywhere, do much of anything, like we have to be somewhere. BUT we can enjoy each other. And that is exactly what I plan to do!
After breakfast, I play horsey for Zack to proudly sit on and lie on, my hair reins that I never knew existed. A short time later, we sit on the couch while I read a book to him. The tick tock of the clock interrupted suddenly.
Knock, knock.
Someone is at the door. No one is supposed to be here now. They always call.
I freeze statue-still and listen again before giving Zack a binky and putting him on the bed with his red and white toy.
While walking to the door quietly, I notice the knocking stops.
Standing at the door, I cock my head to use my ear at closer range, leaning into the door.
Is someone still there? They probably heard me reading to Zack. Do I open the door?
No, I need to stand here and figure this out. Neighbor or mafia? No, the neighbors are probably scared and private. And the Mafia would shoot through the locks.
Looking down, I stroke my chin with my forefinger, the wheels of analysis rotating quickly like the tires of a speeding car.
The answer is in front of you.
A snippet of white catches my eye—white on the floor at the door… white under the door…rammed under the edge of the door… half of it in the room. Sitting down on the floor, I begin to take a closer look.
It’s an envelope! Can I pull it through?
I tug at it, gently like it’s an explosive device. Looks smooth not chunky. Dirt smudges on the right side.
Closing my eyes to focus, I run my semi-clamped forefinger and thumb across the half of the envelope. My mind reverts from threat to detective mode.
No metal, no wires. Crinkling means paper, letter size. I bet it’s a note! Don’t smell it! Just examine it for now.
By carefully pulling, I thread the note through.
As I rip it open and unfold it, my eyes dart to the end of the page.
It’s from Viktoria!
Sophia,
I will help you and your family if you promise protection through your Dad. It will all be his idea. You are correct about the phone—she disconnected it this morning. Ivan told me. He worries about her. She is different, angry and aggressive. Ivan thinks her 20-year-old brother is hurting her again. He lives with her. He has no job. He drinks and does not like being around people. He plays games all day. She won’t let the Government help him. She is his only living family. She says she is responsible for him.
I called your Dad. He is calling the Embassy. He wants me to check on you; so, we make signals. You put something red in the window if you are in trouble. I’ll find something for you to use. I’ll see it when I drive by. I will drive by everyday at noon. I will try to get you and the baby out of here safely.
Viktoria
34. LONELINESS
So, her brother beats her. That’s sad, but it doesn’t justify her rough treatment toward me. I don’t like for her to be around Zack as unpredictable as she is. Maybe, I can make sure that he’s tired and ready for a nap when she arrives. She always calls and gives me some notice, but now without a phone…Oh! I hope Zack wasn’t exposed to her brother when she took him for photos. Probably not! She probably has more sense than that, cares for Zack more than that.
Do I let her bully me? Do I create more problems to keep her focus off Zack?
Taking the note, I walk to the stove and hold it over the burner until it flames—holding it over the sink until it singes my fingertips. Taking the remaining bit of note, I water it down and wash it down the sink, letting the garbage disposal digest the rest.
Now, what?
The drum beat of multiple plastic objects slamming into a wall then crashing onto the floor answers my question—it’s Zack time.
***
It’s been two days since Viktoria’s note and no word from Natasha. Sitting at the kitchen table, I scribble on a piece of paper as some mindless dribble plays softly on the radio. Zack naps in the bedroom.
I guess stewing in ignorance has to be a way of life for us! I frown bitterly as the thought rips across my brain.
It’s one of those days—beyond bad, beyond blizzard. A day I’d choose to stay in, to flirt and snuggle with Ethan. A day custom-made for welding our bodies together, my she melting into his he, followed by a feast of chips and velvety cheesy hot sauce. Of course, an adventure action film marathon backdrop would add to the perfection. We’d argue about the next twist and turn in the plot line; then, wrestle and knot together once again. The sensational sex with him is better than teenage post-accident sex with Luke, by far. But what a great memory that was…
On a sunny afternoon when we had my house to ourselves, I wanted to be a good girl, but the bad girl got in the way. The” games” began poolside in our swimsuits…
***
“Do you want something to drink?” I ask like a good hostess; yet,
I’m talking to his chest. My eyes and attention focus on his chest as if it’s a chocolate fudge sheet cake, and I need a chocolate fix.
I can’t believe that I’m talking to his chest. I hope my eyes aren’t glazed with desire.
“Sophia, why not linger a while? I can make you smolder if you give me the chance.” he says with a mischievous grin as he grabs my hand, kissing the top of it and the underside of my wrist.
I like that.
I savor it a few seconds, while gazing at his dreamy attentive face, before I pull it away. There’s just something about Luke…
“Like I said how about that drink?” I wink.
I want him but not his way, my way. Exactly on my terms.
I stroll into the house taking his eyes with me. I grab two cans of Sprite. No liquor will distort this experience and maximize my penalty if Mom comes home early.
What now? Step two-drive him crazy with desire.
I pop the pull tabs and walk purposefully outside.
A sheet of diamond dust partially covers the pool. Five-foot Palm trees planted in each corner of the rectangular backyard add to the tropical ambience.
Luke steps in front of me as I walk out of the sliding glass door. He takes his drink and mine and sets it on the pass-through window counter next to the sliding glass door. He turns back to me and closes the sliding glass door behind me holding my gaze the entire time. Then, he puts his hands on the door above my shoulders and leans into me, closing his eyes and brushing his lips lightly against mine.
I’m loving that! What a tease! He’s going to make it tough for me to hang on to my… resolve. I’m afraid to know, but I’ve got to know.
I open my eyes slowly and focus on not puckering my lips. He stands upright before me, fighting back a smile. He gently takes my hand, kisses the back of it, and then places it on his cheek. He takes my other hand covering it with his and puts in on his heart.
How romantic! I’m faltering. Remember to make this my game! I look at him with soft eyes and smile mildly, struggling with my screaming hormones. I dare a glance down.
Oh, no, he’s so muscled, that hairy chest and those abs! Abs as seductive as tucked satin sheets, soft yet firm. Sheets that I want to touch and stroke lightly and brush my face across. Suddenly, I realize that I was grazing my hands along his abs, moving my hands softly up and down the symmetrical halves of his marbled stomach.
My hands are in the chocolate cake. Retreat quickly! Change the subject to rein myself in.
I retract my hand in surprise—the touch of a hot stove no hotter than those abs.
I pull his hand back toward me and put it on my cheekbone. Then, I drag his index finger slowly across my upper and then lower lip tracing each curvature. He gasps, pulls his hand back and takes a deep controlled breath as if he had touched a sizzling skillet.
Luke combs my hair back away from the side of my face with his hands. He turns my face toward his and kisses me lightly and slowly—just a feathery touch of his lips that leaves me hungry for more. He smiles as he hears my irregular breath. There’s more teasing over and over again with chaste gentle glancing kisses. His left hand burrows in my hair above my ear and the right plays conductor to the orchestra of sensations raging under his touch.
He moves his fingers to my lips and lets them glide to my chin to the hollow in my neck between my collarbones. He leans into me and kisses me there—a chaste kiss then a French kiss. My flushed face is now cupped in between his hands—wanton for more attention like a piece of clay waiting for the sculptor’s next thought. He stops for a moment and gazes at me. His smile looks playful and controlled like he’d just captured my knight in a game of chess. His eyes sparkle with dreamy radiance.
He’s masterful at this game. The girls were right.
Oh, my gosh, my pelvis and breasts are pulsating. I won’t let him hear me moan.
I put my hands on top of his and guided them from my face to my neck to the bikini straps on my shoulders as he kisses the sides of my neck.
He stops mid-kiss.
I press his hands on the straps in a downward motion over my shoulders. He slow kisses a trail from my upper to my lower lip to my neck to my shoulder. I lean into him pressing myself like cookie dough into a mould.
Ohhhhh…. Advantage me.
“You’d better stop there or I’ll lose my mind.” he whispers.
Game on! I’ve got him now.
“Luke, I want to feel your skin against mine. All of your skin.”
With a sigh, he tilts his head and looks at me if I’d flashed my breasts. He longs to have me. His eyes are lit. He smiles slowly and seductively. The victory of winning our game, or so he thinks, reflects in his eyes and his dirty smile. He scoops me up and carries me upstairs to my room.
He’s never seen my room—a big rectangular shape with two medium sized picture windows which overlook the street—a watchtower for traffic in and out of the house. My twin bed with the white leather headboard and inlaid flower prints is in the center between the picture windows. Two red, blue and white pom poms framed a poster of a lion hang above the bed between the windows. A picture of two handsome leading men, in a Western movie that I recently saw, hangs on the wall adjacent from my bed and above my bookshelf. The walls are snow white. Another bookshelf with a stereo system leans on the other adjacent wall. The sheets and comforter on my bed add the most color to the room, designer sheets in white with random long stem thorn less yellow roses scattered throughout. The comforter and pillowcase are soft and match the sheets.
“I know this will be good for me, but honestly, I want it to be good for you. You’ve been through hell. I owe this to you. I’ve thought about being with you since the day we met. You’ve been in my dreams a lot.” Hearing the honesty in his voice, I look into his too committed, covetous eyes and see that he adores me.
He carefully places me on my bed with a smile. He lies next to me propped up on one elbow and gazes down at me as I lie flat on my back.
“Tell me what you want. My bad judgment almost killed you. Anything you want, any way you want. I’ve wanted to be right here right now for you for a long time. I’ve dreamed and thought about it for a long time.” He leans into me and swallows hard. He stares at me with soft sincere eyes and then moves his lips lightly against mine—an almost non kiss, a slow touch. Then, he moves his scratchy face gently across my right cheekbone as he kisses my earlobe. I gasp as his face brushes mine.
His scratchy face feels wonderful against me. I’m so into this…
“I can wait and control myself. I’m always prepared. Anything, Sophia. Anything,” he leans over, whispering in my ear. He slowly strokes my cheekbone with his curled fingers. I hear his words and feel his warm breath. I smell his woodsy fresh air cologne and his Sprite-drenched mouth.
I pull him to my face and whisper back into his ear.
“Luke, you’re so amazing and so sexy. I hunger for you. I love what you’re doing. It’s perfect, romance novel perfect. Every second is pleasure,” I tell him as I playfully nibble his neck.
He smiles confidently as he gazes at my face. He leans over me. Long sighs and loud breathing fill the room. Slow gentle kisses on my lips, kiss trails down my neck, nibbles and suction and back to my lips again. A kiss trail and a nibble from my lower lip to my chin to the hollow of my neck. As he kisses my collarbone to shoulder, he pushes my bikini straps down further. As he runs the back of his hand along the top portion of my bikini top, I exhale loudly. After he traces the vertical line that separates my abs from my tight midriff, he kisses underneath my still clinging bikini top. I felt his hot breath and the dull sandpaper edge to his face. He runs his hand along the inside of my thighs as if trying to feel every skin cell. I comb my hands through his hair. I’m stunned and dazed.
This is scary and wonderful. I have to know …
Gentler teasing, a light kiss on my parted lips—deliberate and controlled. I grab handfuls of hair on either side of his face and pull him closer, returning
his light kisses with scorching caged desire. My whole body tingles, and I want him. I put my arms around his waist and run my nails along his back roughly. I never felt more like an animal than now—my pupils feel dilated, my breathing is loud and ragged, and my heart is racing.
He pulls my greedy hands away and waives his index finger at me like he’s scolding a naughty pet.
“Not yet. Extraordinary, remember?” He glows as he raises his eyebrows and smiles.
More kisses along the trails, now both gentle and passionate. A never-ending approach and retreat that leaves me breathless. And wildfire intensity that won’t be denied any longer.
Hands knitted together and frayed, sheets disheveled and a comforter fallen to the floor—the physical release of marathoners finishing an important race and the cool satisfying spray of a fountain on overheated skin.
Our bodies blush as if sunburned red, dotted with beads of sweat like sprinkles on cupcakes. My relaxed happy body satiated by his adoring beautiful face and stroked by his patient educated lips and hands.
And I know I’ll be okay.
I’ll be just fine.
***
Standing at the window, I look out at the snow, savoring my memories of unbridled joy and triumph over a tragic twist in my life. In a flash, my thoughts turn.
Sex with Ethan will be different now. The playful domination will have to change. Ponytail ruined that for me, for us. The bad girl needs time to process all of that. It’ll have to be like it was with Luke, adoring and attentive. I’m so lonely…I feel like such a slut, thinking about Luke now when Ethan is in prison.
Sex! I wonder if Ethan is being coerced into sex. He has to be in that prison by now. I can’t go there—it’s too dark! Wait! Maybe, just maybe, the injury will isolate him and protect him from the general population for a while. If he can’t function, they’d almost have to treat him.
Beautiful Evil Winter Page 15
