by Emerson Rose
I lean over to scratch my new friend on the head. Having a veterinarian as a father made me a natural animal lover. He purrs like a loud motorbike and nudges me for more attention.
“Sorry, Imani. I’ll take him for you; he’ll drive you mad begging for attention now that he knows you like him.” I shake my head and mouth the words, ‘It’s OK,’ to her, and she leaves him be.
Dr. Bava moves to take Elena’s coat and then mine, hanging them in a closet automatically as if he’s done it a thousand times. Maybe he has. I hold my hands out and look left and then right as if to ask, ‘where is he?’
“This way,” Elena says, but first she pauses and turns to me. “You’re sure about this? I can stay with you and so will Enrique if you really want to do this.” I nod and we continue; her clicking and me clomping in my rubber boots down a short dull hallway to a door on the end.
The house smells of fresh linen and is neat and tidy but doom and gloom hangs in the air. Maybe it’s because I know this is a place of deep pain for two people I care about.
She flashes me one more look. I nod and she reaches into her pocket for a key to unlock the door. He’s locked in from the outside.
I take a tentative step inside and she points to the opposite side of the room to another door.
“In the closet,” she says softly.
I look at the aged door with its chipped paint and back at her. Then it starts to come back to me. He told me when he was little his mother would lock both of them in the closet. She forced him to pray to unknown gods and starve them.
Fuck, I hate this.
I’m drawn to the door, to him. Nothing can keep us apart, we share two halves of the same heart. I stop in front of the door and lean forward to press my cheek against the wood and listen.
Nothing. I wrap my fingers around the brass knob and pause.
Am I ready for this? Am I prepared to deal with whoever lies behind this door? My heart answers with a resounding ‘yes,’ but my mind isn’t convinced.
I look back at Elena for support, but she is gone. The door has been left open to tell me she’s not far away.
I slowly open the door and look down at the massive man filling the tight musty space. He’s frozen, unmoving even when the light of the room floods the closet.
He is on his knees resting his backside on his haunches. His eyes are closed and in his hands, he’s holding the crucifix that always hangs from his neck. This is the man I saw kneeling by my bed on the airplane when I thought I was dreaming.
All of my physical pain evaporates at the sight of him. In its place is soul-gripping emotional pain. I tilt my head back and look at the ceiling blinking back the tears. I can’t see this, I don’t want to see this, but for him I have to.
Hot tears spring from my eyes when I look back down at him. I kneel down, holding onto the doorjamb and reach out to touch his arm cautiously.
I’m still afraid of who it is that I’m dealing with but the atmosphere in the room feels like my Marcus. The air is charged with pain and sorrow instead of the cold hatred I felt in his Aunt Angelica’s dining room.
He turns his head, opens his glassy eyes. Many emotions flash through his eyes starting with confusion that morphs into recognition and settles on despondence.
“Why are you here? Stay away from me, Imani. Why, why did you come?” he asks, shaking his head.
I answer by laying my palm on my heart and then reaching slowly to do the same on his.
He drops his head chin to chest squeezing his eyes shut tight. I scoot closer on my knees and wrap my arms around his shoulders, burying my face into his neck.
We both cry but he makes no attempt to return the embrace.
“We can’t be together, Imani. I could have fucking killed you today. Please, please say you will go home. I can hardly take a breath without you in my life but I will not risk hurting you again. I don’t remember, I don’t remember, baby, I don’t…”
I press my lips against his ear, “Shush.” I weave my fingers through his hair on both sides of his head and pull him away from me to look at him straight in his eyes. His ultra-bright green eyes are dim and desolate today. Everything about him seems defeated and broken and it tears me up inside.
I can’t talk but my eyes speak volumes. His arms circle my waist and pull me against his chest. He squeezes me tight until my lungs are wrung of air. We cling to each other in his childhood prison trying to solve an unsolvable problem.
There is one thing that is crystal clear to me now; we can’t do this alone. We need help, and we need it fast.
Forty-Five
“Can you speak?” he whispers against my neck. I shake my head and his arms tighten around me again, every muscle in his body is taught.
He scoops me into his arms and stands as if he hasn’t been kneeling for hours and carries me out of the closet into the bedroom. I don’t know how he does it. My legs were stiff and numb after squatting in the tub all afternoon and I could hardly walk but he strolls across the room without so much as a limp.
Across the room, he pulls back the duvet on a full-sized bed and lays me down gently. He kneels again on the floor next to me and rests his head on my chest not facing me.
“I haven’t kneeled once since my mother died, not even before God at church. But since I’ve met you it seems like I belong on my knees. I don’t deserve you. I’m a terrible man. I’ve done things that would make you physically ill. Look at you. I nearly killed you today, even if I don’t remember doing it.”
He trails his fingers along the bruising on my neck watching his fingers as he speaks.
“You’re in danger; this will never happen again. If I have to lock myself in a cell and send you to the other side of the world to prevent it, I will.”
I take his head in my hands and lift his face to mine to get his attention. Then I wiggle the tiny notepad from my back pocket while he moves away from me. No pen, damn it. I make a writing motion over the paper and he understands what I need. Turning to the tiny bedside table and opening a drawer he passes me a pencil.
I came for you. I’m not leaving without you. Ever. I need a test at the hospital, a CT scan, sound familiar?
I show him the paper.
“You do? Imani, goddamn it, are you OK? Why didn’t you let them take you to the hospital? I’m getting Elena.” He begins to stand but I catch his sleeve and pull his attention back to me.
‘No,’ I write.
“Yes, you’re having it, let’s go.” He reaches for me and I scoot away. I write again using the manipulation tactics I’ve learned from him.
I won’t go unless you go, too. I want a million second opinions on having that tumor removed. He reaches across the bed and removes the notebook from my hands and, without reading it, he lays it face down on the table and moves to the end of the bed. That’s not how this is supposed to go, he needs to read it.
I watch, pissed off but curious as he begins removing my borrowed boots. He stops when he sees the bandages that are protecting my bleeding feet and turns his head away. With closed eyes, he sighs and places the boots together neatly on the floor.
I watch his height unfold as he stands and walks to the door. He closes it and returns to the end of the bed.
He tugs me down to the center of the bed and begins removing my jeans. What the hell is he doing? We are both in severe need of medical attention and he’s thinking of sex? I scowl at him but he’s not deterred. He is however surprised by my lack of undergarments. I can tell from the way he lifts his eyebrows when he finds me bare under his sweater and my jeans.
When I’m naked, he covers me up and starts removing his own clothes. As insane as this all is, I can’t move. I’m frozen under a spell in which common sense and reality have been pushed out of this bedroom to wait right outside the door. A bubble of security surrounds us, protecting us from the shit storm of our lives.
His eyes never leave mine as he removes his clothes. They’re so full of pain and love it’s hard to know wh
ich one is greater.
He slides between the sheets and gathers me into his arms, my back to his front, tangling his legs with mine. The heat from his body seeps into every pore of my skin and nothing in the universe matters. Marcus reaches for my still damp braid of hair that’s fallen between my breasts and slides the rubber band off the end. Working his hand to free my hair from the braid he spreads it out over my shoulder.
“You’re an angel sent straight from heaven to save me, you know,” he says, curling around me and breathing me in.
“At first, I thought a merciful God was trying to save my soul with a last-ditch effort, pulling out all the stops with you, baby. But then I realized the irony of it all. I’m being punished, not blessed, for every single horrible thing I’ve done in my life. This is how I will pay. I’ve been given the greatest gift any human can be given, a soul mate. An epic pure love. I’ve been given you. But the sick twisted glitch is this tumor. It’s the very thing that helped bring us together and it will be the thing that separates us one way or another in the end.
I squirm to get free and communicate with him, but he holds me closer, tighter.
“I want to feel you one last time, memorize every curve of your body and the way you smell like cotton candy.” He inhales deeply and exhales with a sad sigh.
“I never want to forget the way your hair feels sliding through my fingers, the tiny mole on your shoulder, or the dimples on the small of your back.” His hand trails down my arm and snakes over my hip to my belly stopping just below my navel.
I’m caught between panic and desire, frozen in his arms I allow his torment to continue. His warm breath on the back of my neck causes goosebumps to breakout all over my skin.
“The sweet taste of your skin on my lips,” he says and kisses the back of my neck.
A chill races down my spine following his tongue as he licks a path down to the small of my back. His hand roams along my ribs to my breast where he traces my stiff nipple.
I liquefy beneath him, my head spins like it always does when I’m with Marcus and I feel faint. But I hold on, this isn’t a moment I want to miss. I want to enjoy it and soak it up because something tells me this could be the last time we are together like this for a while.
I tuck my chin to my chest and my hair covers my face as he peppers my entire body with soft warm kisses until he reaches my feet.
He stops, crouched between my legs, and asks, “How did this happen?” His voice is deeper than I’m used to, thick and full of emotion. I hardly recognize it and he’s upset that I can’t answer him.
I place my hand over my throat to remind him we can’t talk about this and he bows his head. This isn’t happening, I’m not wasting this precious time we have together watching him suffer with guilt about what can’t be undone. I sit up and take his hands from my feet and pull him over me feeling his thick, hard cock pressing against my belly. An electric jolt brings my battered, tired body back to life.
Straddling me, he props up on his elbows and smooths my hair back off of my face. He tucks my hair behind my ears and feathers his thumbs over my forehead, cheeks, and finally my eyelids and I feel what he wants.
I close my eyes and wait for his lips to meet mine. So much love can be relayed through a simple kiss. I feel it flowing between us now. His masterful tongue is caressing mine, he gives me everything, all of him, he is mine and I am his.
“Keep your eyes closed,” he whispers pulling away. I mourn the loss of his mouth on mine but since I’m voiceless I can’t protest.
My heart is pounding as he laces his fingers with mine and takes his kisses on a journey away from my mouth. He moves down my neck pausing for only a moment to show attention to each breast. He traces my nipples with his tongue and softly bites. I arch my back up and he moans.
He continues down my belly and I’m so lost in our dreamy world I’ve forgotten about my period. When he reaches ground zero, I tense and try to sit up.
“Relax, I know. This is for you, baby, just you.”
I don’t even get a chance to open my eyes before he slides his hands under my ass and pulls my hips to his face. My back rests against his abdomen and my legs are draped over his shoulders.
He worships my clit with his tongue, circling and sucking. I grip the bed sheets while my body absorbs every ounce of pleasure and my orgasm builds. I try to call out his name but it’s only a whisper when the explosion hits my core. I come hard over and over. My body pulses and arches into him releasing all the tension that has been building for weeks.
I turn it all over to him in the most intense orgasm I’ve ever experienced. He continues to hold me while I recover. I open my eyes, sated and melting and allow myself to fully relax and look at this man that clearly adores me.
His trademark smirk tugs at one corner of his mouth and I know he’s OK. For now, anyway, both of us are OK.
Forty-Six
No words are spoken, although, I couldn’t speak if I wanted to. Marcus silently and gently, dresses me. He stops after he has my jeans buttoned to search my eyes for something, forgiveness maybe?
I gaze back trying like hell to give him what he wants. I love him, I’m wholeheartedly devoted to him, and forgiveness isn’t necessary because my Marcus hasn’t done anything wrong.
Finally, when he slides the clunky boots on my feet making a disgusted face, I smile. He hates these polka dot boots.
“These are hideous, you know?” he says, crouching between my legs. I roll my eyes and point at the pad of paper on the night table so I can respond to him. He reaches for it, scanning my message from earlier that he ignored.
“Imani, I’ll go with you if that’s what it takes for you to be examined, but there is no sense in me speaking to anyone about my condition, the tumor is inoperable. I can tell someone has let you in on my secret and, as a nurse, you have to know it’s nothing that can be fixed.”
I snatch the notebook from his hands and write furiously.
So, you’re giving up? You won’t fight for your life? For me? I shove it into his chest. He reads it and runs his fingers through his dark hair.
“I’m not giving up, Imani. Go with me and I’ll prove it to you. I promise. I’ve never lied to you, have I?”
Well, no, not that I know of anyway. He skirted the truth about his tumor being inoperable, but I’m interested in finding out how is he going to prove it to me.
He knows I have an incurable curious streak. I nod and so does he. He takes my hand to help me to my feet but I’m not on them for long. He sweeps me behind the knees and cradles me heading for the door. I’d tell him it wasn’t necessary to carry me if I could but the note pad is conveniently in his pocket now.
That’s his way of controlling the conversation. Yep, that’s my Marcus: possessive, controlling and stubborn. But I love him; every insane, irritating, frustrating trait that he has balances out perfectly with the way he cares for me. He is endlessly generous and ridiculously easy on the eyes.
I make an effort to humph but no sound comes out, just the puff of air from my nose and he looks down at me.
“What? Something funny?” I roll my eyes. I can’t answer him but, yeah, he’s funny alright. Not ‘ha, ha’ funny, more like ‘Wow, I-can’t-believe-this-guy funny.’
“Hmmm.” He narrows his eyes and looks at me like a project he needs to finish.
“This no talking thing is going to be challenging,” he says, and I roll my eyes again but harder this time and he chuckles as we enter the living room where Elena and Dr. Bava are lounging by the fireplace drinking wine together on the couch.
They are definitely a couple. The chemistry between them is obvious now that I’m not so focused on my problems.
Elena looks relieved when she catches sight of us.
“Oh thank God, I thought you two were never coming out of there,” she says, with a nervous chuckle.
“We need to go,” Marcus says. Straight to the point, he’s not much for small talk.
“Okay, so
to the hospital?” she asks, scrambling to her feet with Dr. Bava close behind.
Marcus ignores her and stands me on my feet for a moment and gathers our coats from the closet. He helps me on with mine and scoops me back up heading out the front door with his sister and the Enrique struggling to keep up. Marcus is on a mission, and nothing’s stopping him now.
I feel like a child the way he tends to me, buckling my seat belt and arranging me in the back seat next to him but what can I do?
My smart mouth has been effectively silenced and it’s making me a little crazy. The ride to the hospital is much longer than the one to Marcus and Elena’s home. Marcus sits quietly with his fingers laced with mine on the seat between us. He has his elbow propped against the window with his head resting on the back of his hand, deep in thought. I leave him alone and let my thoughts wander.
What’s he going to do to prove that nothing can be done for him? I’m in the medical field, I know better than to give up hope. I’ve seen miracles happen to people who had no chance of pulling through. They went on to live a long happy life.
I don’t see Marcus as a quitter. He always gets what he wants, so what’s holding him back from scouring the earth for someone to cure him?
Maybe he’s already done that. I don’t care if he has, we will look harder. He also has the absurd idea that he deserves to die as punishment for all the sins he’s committed.
No way, I’m not accepting that either. I believe there is a God that is not intentionally cruel or vengeful. Everyone deserves forgiveness, even Marcus Castillo.
Dr. Bava parks in a spot assigned to him close to the doors of the Pronto Soccorso, which I assume is the ER. We exit the car and Marcus helps me to the doors like I’m an invalid. I convince him not to carry me into the hospital by telling him we don’t want to draw attention to ourselves.
Inside the admitting clerk speaks with Enrique, and we are taken back to a small triage room. All three of them help the nurse take down my medical history.
By the time we are finished, I’ve used all but one piece of paper in my notebook. Everyone in the room knows I’ve had the chicken pox, the mumps, and my blood type is O+. I use my last piece of paper to ask Marcus a very important question.
