A Handful of Fire

by Alexis Alvarez

  “Shai, you’re my destination. And Michael and I? We’re yours. We’ll be together and support you while you figure it out. I promise. I’m begging you. Asking you. And promising, at the same time.”

  “Are you sure? Because if we do this, I can’t handle… like before. Another split.” Her voice is low.

  “I’m sure.” And I am. “I can’t promise you perfection, but I can promise you that I’ll try. I have things to work on, too—anger management. Not retreating into emotional distance. But I want to be a team with you. Life’s unpredictable and terrifying. But. Do you want to—do life together? With me?”

  “Yes.” She smiles at me. “Let’s do it.” And I smile back, and the world is good again when I see the love in her eyes.

  “Okay.” I kiss her again, and it feels right, and in the space of a few seconds it’s like we were never apart. That might sound fucked up, unreal, a dream—and it’s all of that. But it’s also fundamentally exactly the way our lives were meant to be. I feel like we were two puzzle pieces that always needed to click together, and it just took us time, twisting, turning, trying different angles, and now—finally, now! We got it. We got the right arrangement and we’re together, meshed, and our picture is whole now.

  We sit there on the rock together until it gets too cold, holding each other. “Let’s go home,” I say, pulling her to her feet.

  “Yes,” she agrees, in her soft, sweet voice. “Let’s go home.”

  When we get back to Gabriel’s house, Michael comes hurtling out the door and hits us both, a cannonball of energy. “Shai!” I pull him up into my arms and Gabriel grabs us both. It’s a three-way hug, and we’re all laughing and talking at the same time.

  “You came back!” He shouts it to the sky, to my face, to his dad. “You brought her back. I love you, Dad. I love you, Shai. Don’t leave again. Don’t ever leave again.”

  “I won’t.” I hold him and it suddenly occurs to me—he’s mine now! Really, truly mine. He’s my boy, as well as Gabriel’s. It’s like all of the Christmases of my life in a single punch to my heart. What a miraculous gift.

  “Did she say yes, Dad?” Michael’s voice is anxious, eager.

  “She said yes.” Gabriel’s smile is brilliant and he ruffles Michael’s hair.

  “Then I can give her the thing!”

  We go into the house and it’s warm and smells like bread. Natalie must have baked something earlier.

  “Shai, come into the living room! We have to give you something. Come now, okay? Hurry.” Michael tugs my hand. “Sit on the couch. Dad, who should go first? You or me?” He turns to me. “We both have something for you. Mine’s better.”

  I laugh. “Okay. Then you go first.”

  He runs out and returns with a small box, my name printed on the lid. I open it. Inside, there’s a piece of gray stone next to a bar of steel several inches long, and I cock my head, before it hits me.

  “It’s a flint.” His voice is proud. “I researched online, and this is the best kind. It’s for you, Shai. Because you’re a flint, too. You have good things inside of you.” He’s so proud of his gift and I start to smile, unable to stop.

  I take the flint into my hand. It’s got a nice heft. It’s solid and scratchy and I love it instantly. “Oh, Michael. This is the perfect thing. The best gift ever.”

  “So we should go into the courtyard and try to light a fire with it in the BBQ pit. I watched videos on how to do it. You have to use both the flint and the steel, did you know that? And what starts the fire? It’s when the flint chips off a tiny piece of the metal, an unoxidized part, and that catches fire. The sparks you see are actually small pieces of the metal on fire in the air. The flint is so strong that it can break metal, Shai. We can experiment with different kinds of kindling. Maybe even have a competition on who can start a fire fastest!”

  Gabriel clears his throat. “How about I give her my gift first, okay, Son?”

  “Oh. Okay. Yeah.” Michael nods. “His is good, too, Shai, but I think mine will be more fun in the long run.” He nods and jumps up to stand beside his dad.

  Gabriel hands me another box. When I lift the lid, I find a silver locket, similar to the one I gave Michael. More expensive, I can tell, with a fine chain and filigreed designs on the front, it shines in the light of the room.

  “I didn’t know if you’d want me back,” Gabriel explains. “But we wanted to give you these things, even if you didn’t. To show you how much you meant to us. Michael and I talked for a long time about what happened, and how it was important to show our love no matter what. So you would know how much you meant to us. So here we are.”

  Michael breaks in. “I wanted to show you that you’re cool, and I’m sorry that when we first met I said you weren’t as pretty as the other women my dad dates. Because you really are the prettiest one of all because you’re beautiful on the inside. I mean, you look okay, too, on the outside. But you know what I mean. So even if we didn’t get to hang out again, or if you stayed mad at Dad, I thought you could have your own flint. And if you go camping, it would be handy. Dad said he’d let me see you again after the therapy follow-ups were complete, even if you didn’t want to see him, because it meant a lot to me. So I thought maybe we could try the flint out together. I hope you like it.”

  I laugh. I love this kid so much. “I do, Michael. It’s perfect.”

  Gabriel adds, “Later on, we’ll have to tell you what Michael did with your locket.”

  “I gave it to Anna,” Michael cuts in again. “It was on the beach. And I—”

  Gabriel rolls his eyes over Michael’s head, and I smile. “Michael, just let me tell her about this, and then you can share the whole story. Shai. You can put your sister’s picture in there if you want.”

  I click the clasp and the heart swings open, empty. I imagine Mani’s face on one side. “I will do that,” I say. “And on the other, I want to put a picture of the three of us.”

  Kelsie and Anna are over to help me pack, but right now we’re sitting in the kitchen eating cookies while Gabriel tapes up the last of my boxes in the living room. I can hear the shiiiiiick! and rip of the packing tape as he pulls long swaths. Michael takes about seven cookies from the plate and loads them into his bowl.

  “Michael,” I chide.

  He gives me a look. “I have to keep them now, because my germs are on them.”

  “The cookies will be fine. The germs will bounce right off. Besides you don’t have a cold or anything. You can have three right now, and that’s it.”

  “Fine. But don’t blame me if you all taste boy cooties.” He makes a face at Anna and puts the cookies back into the bowl, running his hands over all of them as he does.

  It’s been an interesting switch, going from therapist to future stepmom. It’s not easy, but neither is it hard. It’s right, and we’re figuring it out, together.

  Anna laughs and screams. “Ick! I need a cookie he didn’t touch.”

  I hand her the package. “Take one from here.”

  She licks a cookie and looks at Michael sideways, with a little grin. “That’s the real way to get your germs on there. Then nobody wants it back in the bowl.” She licks the cookie again. “See? Get a big line of spit on there, like this.” A shiny line of drool traces down the cookie.

  “Nice.” His voice rises. “That’s awesome, Anna!” He eyes the cookies on the plate.

  I shake my head. “Don’t even think about it.”

  “I’m not. Why would you think I am? ” He’s still looking. I just know he’s going to do it soon, at home, but it will be funny and I don’t care.

  Anna pulls apart the Oreo and licks the frosting. She wanders to my fridge with a half in each hand, and turns to me with a bright smile. “Shai! You have lots of things on your fridge now. That’s good. Because just one drawing up there, by itself? It would get lonely up there and be sad. Now it has friends to hang out with.” She leaves the cookie halves on the table and runs to the front room. “Uncle Gabe, c
an I try the tape thing?”

  Michael follows. “I’ll show you how to do it. I have an idea of how to make the tape dispensers easier to use. I’m going to design it on my computer and enter it into the Young Inventors Contest this summer. Want to hear about it?”

  Anna seems agreeable. “Sure, Michael. Sometimes tape is hard to use. I bet your project will be very useful.” She sounds so mature, like she’s placating someone far younger, and Kelsie and I snort, hiding our giggles behind our hands.

  Kelsie turns to me. “Doesn’t it feel good?”

  “Yes.” I smile at her. “Amazing.”

  I hand her an old, yellowed Keds shoebox. “These are the things I wanted to give to you and Anna.”

  She peers in and I explain. “It’s some stuff I saved from when Mani and I were kids. I got it from my parents’ house. It’s totally cool again! There are some Strawberry Shortcake dolls, the vintage ones. Some My Little Ponies. Chinese jacks—we loved those so much. Lots of fake jewelry. My mini music box.” I twist the key and open the lid, and a tiny ballerina turns to the tinkle-y tune of the “Dance of the Sugar Plum Fairy” from the Nutcracker Ballet. “It’s still in great shape. I thought she might like them.”

  “She will, for sure. She loves treasures like this.” Kelsie smiles and pats the box. “Thank you, Shai.”

  I nod. “I want the stuff to see light again. No sense letting it sit gathering dust.”

  Gabriel comes in, his jeans low on his hips, and I wish we were alone so I could grab him, unsnap the button, and put my mouth on that ridge where the muscle disappears into the fabric. Later.

  The kids follow behind. Gabriel plants a kiss on my lips and says, “That’s the last of the boxes. The movers are coming in about twenty minutes for the big things. We can load up my car with the fragile stuff.”

  “Eeeeew,” Anna says, putting her hands over her eyes at our kiss. “Ick.”

  I laugh. “Sorry.”

  Michael says, “They do that all the time. You’re lucky you don’t live at our house.” But he’s pleased to be displeased at it, I can tell. And I’m pleased to tease him, so I give Gabriel another kiss, lingering for a split second.

  “I don’t think my mom and dad should kiss,” Anna informs me. “They should just talk and hang out, like normal people.”

  Kelsie smirks and says, “Normal is something your dad and I will never be, kiddo. Get used to it.”

  “Normal can be overrated,” Michael agrees. “But kissing really is disgusting.”

  Luckily we all agree on the “normal is overrated” part. It’s good to have people who like your brand of not-normal.

  He put on music for me, the fourth movement from Beethoven’s Ninth, Ode to Joy. I love it, but I’m more interested in the music we’re going to make together.

  The sheets are cool and his body is warm, inviting. I press my nakedness into his and wrap my arms around him. I want to make love, but first I want to enjoy just being with him, feeling his solid presence beside me, let his strength soak into my pores. To relax into his care and embrace, to do nothing but be held, safe and loved.

  We breathe into each other; I stroke his skin where I can reach, and he runs his hands up and down my back. After a few minutes, his fingers stray lower, and he cups my ass in one palm. I feel his cock twitch against my thighs and I push into him, making a breathy moan in my throat. Enough safety—I want what’s next.

  He draws his finger up my inner thigh until he reaches my soft, moist skin. He rubs there, and talks into my ear. “What do you want, Shai?” His voice is gravelly and rough, his sexy bedroom voice. I love how he changes when we’re alone like this, unleashing his inner alpha male, the one who grabs me and puts me where he wants me, who takes me hard until I cry out in pleasure, and then whispers that he loves me.

  “Fuck me.” I bite his neck. When I start out by talking dirty, he knows that’s my signal that I want him to be dominant and powerful. Sometimes I say, “Kiss me,” and then it’s a night of tender, gentle passion, soft and drawn-out, the pleasure stretching out into bands of joy that tie us together. I like that we have both in our reach.

  Tonight I want it bright and hot, the way he likes it best, and he grabs me, his teeth sinking into my neck, making me cry out. “Yeah?” He puts his lips on mine. “You want my cock, Shai? You want to feel me filling you up?”

  “Yes, I want it.”

  “Uh-uh.” He slaps my ass once, a crack that reverberates around the room. “You know how to say it. Ask the right way.”

  I blush. Talking dirty at his command embarrasses me and gets me incredibly aroused at the same time. “I want your cock.”

  “Where?” He sucks my nipple into his mouth and tugs, sending sparks racing through my body to my other nipple, to my head, to my belly.

  I pull away until he looks at me, and I purse my lips innocently, lick them. I touch my own nipples, pulling them, and moan. “Do I need to draw you a map?”

  “Fuck.” He grabs my hands and shoves them up above my head, positioning them on the pillow, and nudges my legs apart with his thigh. He’s so close to where I want him, and lets his hard length rest right on my mound until I twist my hips up, trying to entice him closer.

  He laughs. “I’m not doing it until you start talking.”

  “My mouth is busy, though.” I wriggle one hand out of his grip and put my index finger into my mouth and suck, lick, sticking my tongue out in deliberate swipes. “See?”

  “Oh, yeah? Busy? It’s about to get busier.” He pulls me down the bed and kneels over my face. “Open, Shai.”

  I’m obedient when he orders me around, only because I love it; it makes me hotter to play at this in the bedroom. And truly, when I see how mad I can get him with passion, I know that I’m the one with the power. So I open my lips and take him in, letting his silky strength glide into my mouth, sucking and licking the way I’ve learned for him. He pushes down into my throat, and I take him in. He’s watching my face; he pulls back to let me breathe, then drives back. I close my eyes and lose myself in the rhythm of his movements, feeling his arousal grow under my tongue.

  Some women say they don’t like to give blowjobs. But when you have a man who feels so good in your mouth, who appreciates it so damn much, who reciprocates with all of his power and passion, it becomes something erotic and beautiful. It’s something I can give to him, and I enjoy the feeling of it because it’s his body, his scent, his most private pleasure, and only I can do this thing for him, this thing he loves.

  He fucks my mouth for a long time, and I feel his ass while he does, running my hands over the hard muscles and planes. Sometimes I grab his hips and pull him harder to my face, and this makes him groan out in appreciation. But as time goes by, he reaches down to grab my breast for a second, rubs it, then gets back into position, but it’s like he can’t resist my body, because he reaches down again and again, touching my thighs, my hip, my labia. And soon enough he pulls out of my mouth, breathing hard. “Your turn, baby.”

  “Both of us,” I whisper, wiping my mouth with my hand and rubbing it on my nipples, smiling to see his eyes darken and a muscle clench in his jaw. “At the same time.”

  In answer he flips me so I’m on hands and knees and lies back on the pillows, so his head is elevated. “Get on top of me, Shai.” When I hesitate, he slaps my ass again, hard, and I jerk and moan. I like a few hard spanks, punctuations to our passion. “Now.”

  I sling one leg over his warm muscular torso, stroking his chest and abs as I do; I can never resist his muscles. I back up until my ass is in his face, and I can lean down and take him into my mouth again. This time I have the control of how I take him, and I use it, bobbing my head up and down, as far as I can go. I take him so deeply into my throat that I can feel him fill me, can feel him pulse, and only let go when I need air. I suck in a gasp, and do it again. I know he loves it because he’s told me. But also, because when I do it, he makes a groan in his throat, a sound that’s torn from him, something unb
idden, and knowing I can make him feel so good is a power that pleases me. “God, that feels good,” he murmurs, so I keep doing it. And he starts using his tongue on my body, flicking it in, over, around. He’s good with his mouth; he knows what he’s doing, he knows the spots that drive me insane. He knows how to take me to the edge and keep me there, keening, waiting, dying, until he sends me over by sucking hard and touching at the same time.

  Today he wants to make me wait. He teases and taunts me with the smallest touches, just the tip of his tongue, and when I can’t take it and beg him in between mouthfuls of him, he laughs and gives me one long lick all the way up my cleft, making me cry out, loud. I tremble when he does that because I’m so close—so close! “Again, please, again,” I urge him.

  “Not yet,” he says, giving me another crack with his palm. “I want to enjoy this. Your mouth is so fucking good. You go deep again, take me into your throat. I want to see you cry from my cock and then I’ll use my tongue again.”

  I bend down and redouble my efforts, using my forearms to propel me up and down like a piston, pushing my head down onto his length, letting him linger longer in my throat, sucking harder as I pull my lips back up to release and start over. I’m panting and sweating, drooling, soon enough and he begins to push his hips into me, making my eyes water with the continued pressure and the small gags that come from time to time. He likes the sounds, and I like it, too. Finally my arms are trembling and my lips are quivering and I beg him, “Babe, please lick me again.”

  “Look at me.” I shift to align my body with his and he wipes my eyes. “Fuck, it’s hot to see you like this.” His voice is hard and reverent. “For me.” He kisses me hard, and I can taste his essence and mine on our lips, and the combined flavor is raw and passionate and makes me want him even more.

  Then he stretches me out and moves down my body, kissing along the way, biting, too, so I never know what’s coming next, and by the time his lips meet my pussy I’m jerking and whining with each touch of his tongue, ready to fly apart. He pulls my thighs to the sides and I grab his hair, pulling him closer to my body. “Please, Gabriel, Please, please, right there.” My voice is a chant, a hymn.