by K Larsen
Matteo trudged to the fridge, grabbed a beer and cracked it open. He retired to the living room for the remainder of the evening, leaving his dirty plate on the table for another time. Cece would chastise him for it if she were there. He flipped through the pages in her journal until he found the entries from 1996.
~***~
1996 - Spain
There was a memorial service for me. It’s been so long now that no one holds out hope that I am coming back . . . or alive. Matteo went. Asked if anyone had contacted Mara. No one had, they couldn’t find her current contact information. Gabriel didn’t speak to him. Refused actually, so Matteo said. Made some sort of scene and left early. It struck me as odd until Matteo finished his tale. He drove by my old house. Gabriel’s house. Monique was in the living room window. Holding an infant. Waving her free hand through the air clearly angry at something. Hurt rips through me when I think of it. I don’t want Teo to see me crying, to see me weak, so I keep my tears in.
That night in our adorable Spanish cottage Matteo lay in bed with me, traced my scar. It made me shiver. He asked my wishes, that I say out loud all my darkest desires. He promised no judgment. I talked of ripping apart Gabriel’s life. Of being cunning and calculating and slowly stripping him of all he cherishes. Matteo asked how. To really dig deep, dive into the fantasy and get it all out. My tongue moved without thought, words tumbled from my mouth. Gabriel’s career. Gabriel’s child. Gabriel’s relationship. All must go. All must be destroyed. A tense moment passed between us. Matteo stared so deeply into my eyes that I thought for sure he could see the seed of fury that grows inside me. I thought for sure he would see the depths of hell reflected in my eyes. He kissed the tip of my nose. He smiled. He said ‘How would you go about that?’ and without hesitation I rattled off ideas. Suddenly, I feel like a newborn.
Vulnerable and exposed.
Covered in deceitful stickiness.
I fell asleep the next afternoon. When I woke, I was sweaty. Guilty. The constant push and pull of desire and restraint warring inside me. I want so badly to be able to hold on to it. Love is powerful. It can heal, it can lift - it can also drag you down into the depths of hell and burn you until you’re no longer recognizable. So I must be careful with my heart.
And that next evening, I kissed Matteo.
I did it.
I was aching. Lingering in the past like a fool. I blew on the window and drew in the fog and this whole world opened up right before my eyes. Matteo made my life right, light. I took a leap. I stepped forward, closed the gap between our bodies, stood on tiptoe and kissed his lips. He didn’t pull away from me.
His hands on my hips. My kiss on his lips. I didn’t want the moment to end. And it struck me, I could do this forever. His love, his commitment, it saved me. When I lost it, he held my hand. And he rushed to me and it set us free. He’s my fault. My weakness. Is it a sin that I want Matteo so badly? My name on his lips, my sweat on his skin?
~***~
Night arrived shrouding the world in darkness. The moon had been the only light. He had seen the storm set in Cece’s eyes. And right there curled up together as she spoke they tumbled and fell. Mountains had crumbled to the sea. The fighting was over. Through the storm they reached the shore, together. She didn’t cry. Whatever made her happy, whatever she wanted he would provide. He vowed silently to be whatever Cece needed—whenever. Matteo remembered that day clearly. His memory needed no help to conjure the events that led to that halcyon moment.
She drew a broken heart shape in the fog on the window pane. Matteo had trudged up the stairs, a bag of groceries under one arm, and seen the heart. He drew a question mark in the fog. She sadly half-smiled through the cloudy window at him. He set the bag down under the small portico and exhaled a great breath against the glass. He drew a heart opposite her broken one. Then he drew a sad looking bridge between the two, from his side to hers. Right then he wanted to hold on to the feeling that coursed through him at her expression. He placed his bet on them, on Cece and himself. He picked up the bag and went inside. She watched him as he set the bag on the counter before approaching her.
“I’ll cross over Cece. I’ll come to you and we’ll repair your heart together.” His hand cupped her cheeks. He meant what he said. And right then, plain as day in her eyes, he knew his feelings for her were returned.
Their first kiss. Matteo recalled it vividly. That divine moment when all the walls came down. When their friendship blossomed into something he’d dreamed about for years. He had felt like he owned the world the moment his lips pressed against hers. There were no words to accurately describe what it felt like. What it made him feel. This woman, this friend knew his soul. She was his other half and he had always known it. He’d long ago been convinced that his only option to keep her in his life was to be happy for her and to be her friend. The torture of that reality had been excruciating. He’d watched passively as she dated Gabriel. As she said yes to his proposal. As she walked down the aisle to marry him. As she struggled, as she soared - he was there for it all, and it had been devastating. There were times he pushed her away, times he’d considered coming clean to profess his feelings but he hadn’t. They were young. She came from a different lifestyle than he. There were other pressures of course and if she said no, he wouldn’t have even had her friendship. No. He had never risked it.
Everything had changed when Dr. B died. When they discovered truths they weren’t supposed to and in the end, when he’d saved her. He waited as she recovered. As she warred with herself, with her guilt, her fury and her heartbreak. And then, then he’d waited some more. The tension between them that first year together had grown to epic proportions. When those soft, supple lips he’d dreamed about met his he knew he’d never let them go back to anything less than lovers.
“You have no idea how many nights I’ve lain awake imagining this moment . . . what it would feel like to have you in my bed, my arms. I want your lips on me, your hands. I want to taste you . . . savor you . . . devour you fiore mio. I’ve lusted for so long.”
Her eyes had darkened at his words. And in those next seconds she’d made his dreams come true. Cece had leapt into his arms, wrapping her legs and arms around him. Clung to him desperately. They couldn’t get close enough. They couldn’t go fast enough. He’d let out a low groan, his kiss grew urgent and hungry. Her reciprocation, just as hungry. Any space between their bodies had been too much. They had been starved and had devoured each other time and time again that night. He’d whispered to her in Italian all the emotions he’d kept from her over the years. She’d cried and laughed and come so hard he was sure the windows were shattered from her scream.
It was after that he watched his soul-mate rise from the ashes of devastation and betrayal and become someone else. Someone he helped cultivate. For as much as he wanted Celeste, he wanted Gabriel to pay for the destruction and pain he’d caused. He stepped into Cece’s hate-fire willingly, stoking the spark of revenge until a fire roared. It wasn’t just Cece who changed - it had been him as well.
~***~
1996 - Spain
My tears may be dried up now, but the heart never forgets. Just as entire can forests burn to the ground and eventually grow again, whatever I suffered, I kept on growing. There was a rip, a tear in the fabric of my life that won’t ever be completely mended. But memories that let in both the darkness of the Hell and the bright celestial light comfort me. I can let my pains bleed for a while yet still be open to the many joys in my life. I am grateful for the pain because I’ve learned from it.
These emotions are beautiful, the weakness that comes after suffering. The conviction that follows after grief, and the rousing to love again.
Anonymous packages began arriving at local news stations in France. Letters. Photographs. Details about the renowned biochemist Gabriel Fontaine. Stories started running on television and in the papers. Biochemist testing on human subjects. “Respected biochemist, Gabriel Fontaine working with CIA.” “Infi
delity afoot in unsolved biochemist’s wife case.”
It’s funny to see my own words appear in the news. Gratifying really. I sat back and found myself smiling as week by week Gabriel made the papers. And wouldn’t you know it . . . he’s vanished. No one can find him. Consequently, no one can find Monique either. Shamed. Shunned. Embarrassed. I imagine they are all of those things now. I don’t care where he’s gone to. Not really. His career’s been killed. Exposed. All those years and years of research for naught. I find myself smiling at the thought.
Delighted.
I’ve had dreams recently. I’m trapped in a room. It’s always unfocused. Gabriel’s voice on the other side of the door taunts me. But unlike my old dreams, in this one, when I open my eyes and blink the pixels away and look around, I’m in a nursery. But I am a snake. There’s a baby. Silky and new. I slither around it, pulling it close to my chest, to my heart. Monique’s voice rings out over Gabriel’s and when I look down, the infant doesn’t belong to me. Shock rips through me. Suddenly the tiny infant’s eyes turn black and cold. The longer I look at the baby, the less I feel, until I’m just a person again and I’m holding the baby out the window and letting go. And I’m laughing and careless as Gabriel and Monique’s screams fill the space around me.
~***~
Matteo knew Cece would leave with every piece of Gabriel. He never underestimated the things that she would do. That they were doing. He took solace in knowing that in the depths of Gabriel’s despair, the beast would think of them. Spring was cold and damp but soon the boiling heat of summer would be upon them bringing the fiery temperatures of hell. Where Gabriel would rot.
~***~
1996 - Spain
Matteo and I married today!
It wasn’t at all like my first wedding. It was so much better. Private, intimate, meant only to join two hearts. Shared only between two hearts. Months ago Matteo met a man while we had brunch a beautiful restaurant in town. They’d struck up easy conversation then. Over the months he and Alarico formed a tight bond. And thank God for that. Alarico is a surprisingly well-connected man. Between him and the private investigator we hired to track Gabriel, we’ve managed to give ourselves new identities. Papers, IDs and all. It is because of this I was able to have the most splendid moment with Teo.
The sun shone down on us, heavenly in its glare, while the minister from the local church married us. I was impossible to ignore a man like my Teo. It was a crime against nature and I knew that with all of my heart. I am the luckiest woman alive. When the minister declared us Mr. and Mrs. Grant we’d shared a look and laughed heartily before he swept me up in a kiss that devoured my very soul. Jezebel and Ahab Grant. They were ludacris names, stolen from history.
It doesn’t matter though; to each other we are Cece and Teo. The world outside us doesn’t really exist. My Teo. My heart is so full. He sleeps so soundly next to me right now as I scribble this memory down. I am content. I am wrapped up in his love so wholly that everything else that eats at me disappears. It is divine.
~***~
Matteo closed the journal, a smile played on his lips. Hi retrieved a cigarette, lit it and enjoyed the sensation of smoke as it filled his lungs. Their life had been more than just Gabriel and revenge and plotting. Her entries in her journal had over the years become her outlet but the moments they’d shared away from those dark thoughts had been magic.
Their time in Spain had been spent dining, walking and dancing in the small town they resided in. They had long hot nights and lazy mornings. Just after their wedding he’d caught her flipping to a blank page in her journal and furiously scribbling on the page. He’d stilled her hand.
“Teo,” she murmured, placing the pen in the crease of the journal and closing it.“Let me take this fury from you. Let me go and just take care of him, of her.”
“You would lose everything, Teo,” she’d said in a hoarse whisper.
“I don’t care anymore.” He’d leaned down and pressed his lips against hers. She kissed him back angry and hard. “I would lay down my life for you Cece. I would take the weight of it all to make you happy.” She’d stared up at him, her eyes devouring his. He saw the moment she understood the depth of his love for her. Truly understood.
“We will do this together. We will, and we will be free when it ends.”
That particular evening had been fiery and passionate. In sync, they had laid out all their desires and love and fused them together.
Matteo looked around the small home. Cece would hate it. It had no life, no flowers growing from the dirt. He’d yet to clean. He resolved to remedy that tomorrow. The least he could do was make this a place she would love when she finally joined him. Here, together, they would watch Gabriel’s final decimation on the news before going home. Cocooned in this little cabin they would smile and toast and celebrate. Yes, he needed to make the house just right for Cece’s return. Once their masterful illusion was complete she would need a home to return to, even if only temporarily.
Chapter 4
June 2014
~ Matteo ~
LYING IN WAIT; (1) a concealment of purpose, (2) a substantial period of watching and waiting for an opportune time to act, and (3) immediately thereafter, a surprise attack on an unsuspecting victim from a position of advantage[.]’ “
“Fiore mio, I’ve missed you so,” he said before scooping his wife into a bear hug. She squealed and squeezed him back tightly. “Tell me, how’ve you been? What’s been going on?” he asked as he set his wife to her feet.
“There is so much to tell! Sit, sit!” A nasty smile of expectation crept across his face.
Matteo chuckled at her enthusiasm and sat. “She’s let on that her parents are unhappy. So very unhappy. I can’t even express how ridiculously happy it makes my heart to hear her speak. They’re terrible Teo! They missed her graduation!”
Matteo stared in disbelief. “That can’t be right. Why?”
“My God Teo, they are so wrapped up in their own stink that they’ve all but forgotten about Belle. It’s almost as if she doesn’t exist in their home. It’s tragic really.”
He shot her a pointed look. “Not too tragic I hope.”
“Very funny stud. No it’s perfect for me. She . . . she loves me I think. Like a . . . mother.” He could tell the word stung her a bit. No doubt because she’d have given anything to have children of her own. It worried him, this bond she was forming with the girl. “I had Mark, the boy she likes, and that friend Madison help me out a little. I gave her a graduation party. You should have seen her eyes Teo. Such gratitude radiating from them. Such love. I swear, this entire situation couldn’t have worked out any better. I’m just . . . over the moon about it all.”
“Cece,” he deadpanned.
“Don’t Cece me,” she cut in and wagged a finger at him. ” I haven’t lost focus on the goal. I’m telling you all this because it feels . . . right. It’s as if the last twenty years we’ve spent dreaming and scheming were leading up to this exact moment.”
“I’m happy if you’re happy,” he answered.
She narrowed her eyes at him. “Cut the shit Teo, what’s going on?”
“I’m . . .” he struggled to find the words he needed to say. He didn’t want to sound weak. He prided himself on always being strong. For her, for them, for survival.
Celeste looked at him. Took him in for a long moment. “You’re lonely.” She tilted her head to the side. “You’re feeling useless.” He felt his brows lift. It had always fascinated him how she could do that. Read him so perfectly. As if they shared some portion of their DNA. He sighed.
“I miss bringing a plant home to you every day. Our walks, watching you in the garden. The ballroom dance lessons. I miss reading aloud together at night. I miss us, Cece.” She stood then strode to him. She sat on his lap and he let his arms wrap around her waist.
“Oh Teo, this must be torture for you. I forget that you are out there alone while I’m in here surrounded by people. Never a dul
l moment you know. People rambling, fighting to find the right word that they can’t remember to keep a conversation going. I’m so very selfish, although…you do have real food out there,” she pointed out the window, “whereas I’m stuck eating preservative-ridden pre-packaged nastiness. So there’s that.”
Matteo laughed. Cece was very particular about the food she ate and this place did not live up to those expectations in the least. He could tell in the way her clothes were a little loser. She had lost just a touch of weight.
“Yes. You have been very selfish. Maybe you need to make it up to me.” He grinned at her.
“You silly man, I plan on making it up to you for the rest of my life.”
~***~
Matteo’s visit buoyed his spirits. A lump of cheese dripped to the plate from his breakfast sandwich. Tossing the half-eaten sandwich on his plate he let out a massive sigh. Rain pelted the windows. Matteo missed home. One of their favorite things was to sit on their porch and listen to the rain come down. Revel in the thunderclaps and lightning bolts that lit up the sky. A deep roll of thunder that vibrated his bones made his thoughts scatter like spiders into the dark corners of his subconscious. The storm was almost here. In just twenty-four hours’ time he would be mailing a letter meant to snap the final cord holding Gabriel and Monique together. He pulled a cigarette from his pocket. Lit it.
Inhaled.
Exhaled.
~***~
1998 - JUNE
My head spun. My mind ticked over all the opportunities that I could take or leave in life, so I got up out of bed, dressed and started walking. There was no point in lying stagnant. When I took stock of my surroundings I found myself at the restaurant. That sad place where so many died. The restaurant that serves no more patrons. I walked around and played details back in my head. It was too quiet. The air felt so warm in my lungs. Too warm. Emotions built, one upon the other and part of me just wanted to lie down there, among the ruins of that restaurant—let the building heat and the ghosts take me. I couldn’t though. Darkness makes me aware of the stars. And when those dark hours emerge they still hold a bright and lovely thing. It is in my dreams that I am able to encounter what’s departed my life and look at it. Converse with it. Alter the truth. Twist it and mold it until it suits me.
