Silk

by Heidi McLaughlin

  When we get back to Bondi and Adam is out of hearing range, I call Conner out on it. “Why are you acting like this?”

  He glances around, making sure Adam isn’t near us. “Just having some fun, driving your fella mad.”

  I smack his arm and point at him. “Stop it. I’m stuck on a plane with him tonight.”

  He drapes his arm around my shoulders in a move I know will piss Adam off and hugs me to him. It’s pointless. He’s having too much fun. Adam doesn’t look happy when he walks up to us moments later.

  Conner grins. “If I’m ever in California, will you be my tour guide?”

  I slip out from under his arm and put some distance between us. “Of course.”

  Adam is quiet during the trip to the airport.

  As Conner pulls away from the curb, Adam turns to me. “Still don’t like that kid.”

  “He’s not that bad,” I argue, following Adam into the terminal.

  We’re flying to Argentina. From there, we have a connecting flight to Rio de Janeiro. By tomorrow evening, we’ll be back in the Americas, one stop closer to our trip being over.

  I’m trying to keep what Adam said in my mind, that we’re together now, but I can’t stop thinking about when we’ll have to say good-bye. I’m obsessing over it. That, and the fact that we’ll be staying with a friend of my mom’s. I’m dreading the sleep-arrangement conversation. There will be no way to disguise we’re something more than just travel companions.

  Constance and my mom were college roommates. Constance moved back to Brazil after getting her degree. She and her husband, Raul, never had children. I’ve never met her, and I can only hope she’s cool. South America has a large Catholic population. I’m worried about her opinion on premarital sex.

  “Worst case, we can always get a hotel,” Adam reminds me once we’re seated on the plane.

  “Part of the reason my parents were cool with me even going to Brazil is because we’d be with someone who lives there.”

  We’ve both seen the news. Brazil, Rio in particular, does not have a reputation for being the safest place. At least Constance lives in Leblon, a safe, high-end neighborhood.

  I have a hard time sleeping on the plane. There’s a toddler a few rows behind us who cries off and on for long portions of the flight. I pity the parents while I wish the little one would just go to sleep.

  Adam sleeps straight through. I eventually find a documentary in which the narrator’s monotone voice lulls me to sleep. However, I’m still exhausted by the time we land in Argentina.

  Not caring that I take up an extra seat at our next gate, I lie down with my head in Adam’s lap. We have a three-hour layover before our flight to Rio. I sleep through most of it and can still hardly keep my eyes open once we board.

  Our flight to Rio isn’t long but going through immigration is. It’s over an hour before we make our way to baggage claim.

  “Aubrey?”

  I turn to see a slim dark-haired woman behind me. “Mrs. Alberto?”

  “Please, call me Constance,” she says, opening her arms to hug me.

  I introduce her to Adam. We wait together for our luggage and then follow her to the parking area. She drives a high-end compact car. Adam loads our bags in the trunk, and at my insistence, he sits up front to have more legroom.

  With traffic, it takes some time to get to her apartment. Constance points out landmarks along the way. She parks in an underground lot beneath her building. Her apartment is on the ninth out of twelve floors. It’s light and airy with big floor-to-ceiling windows in the main living and dining areas.

  “Your rooms are this way.”

  We follow her down a hallway, and when we get to the rooms, I clear my throat.

  “Would it be all right if we shared a room?” I ask, my face getting red.

  She looks at Adam and then back at me. “Does your mama know about this?”

  I slowly shake my head.

  She takes a deep breath. “You are both adults. I appreciate you being upfront and asking. Of course you may share a room.” She pauses. “The blue room has a bigger bed.”

  Adam moves our bags into the blue room. Thankfully, the master bedroom is on the other side of the apartment.

  Adam and I shower separately and change into fresh clothes before meeting her in the living room. It’s strange being observed. If we had been in a hotel, we might have made love already and ordered room service. Instead, she has a tray prepared with sliced meat, cheese, and crackers. We snack and hang out on the balcony until Mr. Alberto, Raul, comes home from work.

  Constance wants to hear about our trip. She has Adam power up his laptop, so she can see all of the pictures he’s taken so far. Once Raul retires, they plan to travel the world.

  “Don’t wait. Go now while you can,” I burst, out of nowhere.

  She looks at me, eyes wide. When it hits her, she puts her hand on my arm. “I’m so sorry for your loss, querida.”

  That night we go to Platforma, a place where we have dinner and then watch a carnival-style samba performance. The costumes are incredible, and while some of the dancers give lackluster performances, the show overall is a lot of fun.

  As we walk back to their apartment, Raul goes on about Carnival. “Sure, getting around town is miserable during the carnival, but this is Rio, and you must come back sometime to experience it. There is nothing like it.”

  Constance rolls her eyes at his exuberance but agrees that if we ever want to see the real carnival, we’re welcome to stay with them.

  “Thanks. Might take a break from traveling for a bit after this trip though,” I admit.

  Sinking into Adam’s waiting arms is the best part of my day. I’m tired of traveling, tired of seeing new places. As much as I don’t want the trip to end, I crave normalcy. Adam has become that for me—my constant. He folds me into his arms in yet another new bed. We don’t make love that night. Sleep takes us away before anything can happen.

  I awake to his lips on my skin the next morning. He’s making up for lost time, wanting to taste me before he has to share me.

  We’re comfortable lovers by now, our rhythm down. My hips rise to meet his in our choreographed coupling. We’re quiet, and he’s gentle.

  I’m in love with him. I wonder how he feels about me, but I’m too scared to ask. I don’t want to ruin our last days together.

  I leave him in bed as I go shower. When I come back into our room, he pulls me back into bed and licks stray beads of water from my neck and shoulders.

  We freeze when Constance knocks on our bedroom door. “Do either of you drink coffee?”

  I cover myself even though I know she can’t see me through the door. “Coffee would be great. Thanks.”

  After another lingering kiss, he takes his shower while I get dressed. I don’t wait for him, and I join Constance on the balcony. He is there, with us not long after.

  That day, we go to Corcovado to see the Christ Statue. It’s crowded, but the views of the city below are amazing. We have lunch in the city afterward.

  “And how is your mother?”

  I have to think for a moment. It’s been so long since I’ve seen her. “She started volunteering at an animal shelter. It makes her happy and gives her something to do.”

  “Your aunt.” She shakes her head. “It was such a shame.”

  “It was,” I agree.

  Adam reaches under the table to hold my hand, his thumb moving back and forth across the top of it. His simple gesture pierces my careful mask. I don’t break down, but I have to blink away tears that were not there a moment ago.

  After lunch, we make our way to Sugar Loaf Mountain. There’s a cable car that takes us to the top. My mother told Constance that I would have some of Ally’s ashes with me to spread. It was my mom’s idea to do it here. I can’t decide which view is better, Corcovado or Sugar Loaf.

  What is nice about Sugar Loaf is that there’s more room to move around and explore. There’s even a small gift shop where Adam fi
nds another charm for my bracelet. As I wander off, trying to find the perfect place, I come across a couple of small monkeys.

  I don’t approach them. I just stand still and watch them as one climbs up on a post and looks back at me. He’s a furry little guy with dark hair all over, except for the white tufts of hair at his ears. If I wasn’t so scared that he’d probably bite me, I might try to get closer to him. Given the amount of people that visit each year, I wonder how tame the monkeys are.

  I take his appearance as a sign of where Ally should rest. Up this high, there isn’t a bad view, and somehow, the fact that the little monkey watches me spread her ashes comforts me. It makes me feel like I’m not leaving her alone, that maybe he’ll continue to watch over her.

  I’m more emotional than I have been the last few times I spread her ashes because I know I’ll be finished soon. I’m not ready to really say good-bye to her.

  When we get back to the Albertos’ apartment, we do laundry, and when Raul gets home from work, we walk to a local restaurant. I’ve started trying different foods along the way with Adam. I still have a fairly bland palate in comparison to him, but when I like something that I didn’t think I would, he smiles every time.

  It’s late when we get back to the apartment. We didn’t eat dinner until nine that night. Adam and I aren’t tired though. We stay up, later than we should, enjoying each other.

  I wore a short dress tonight. Adam doesn’t even bother getting me out of it once we’re alone in our room. He simply pushes himself inside me. His impatience makes me feel powerful.

  I know he wants me and is turned on by my nakedness. It thrills me that even covered up, he has to have me. He’s frantic in the way he takes me. Normally, I can match his tempo, but tonight, I just hold on to him. It’s fast and hard and thrilling, but when he finds his release, my body is still moments away from mine. He knows.

  Afterward, he slowly undresses me and makes up for that, over and over. Just when I think I can’t take it anymore, he pushes inside me once more. His earlier attention leaves my flesh primed. I’m lost in an ocean of him. When the waves crash over me, more powerful this time than any previous, I drag him under with me.

  He props himself over me with his arms, and we stare at each other. He sinks down onto me, turning me, so we’re on our sides, facing each other.

  He reaches up to brush some hair off my face, his hand coming back to hold my cheek. “What are you doing to me?”

  It’s more a statement than a question.

  ***

  Even though it’s winter in Brazil, it’s still warm enough to go to the beach the next day. Constance takes us to Ipanema Beach. This is the first time Adam sees me in a bikini. He smooths sunblock over my skin. I thrill in returning the favor, seeing the looks other beachgoers give him. We lay out for most of the afternoon.

  We return to the apartment to shower before our flight. Constance is more sentimental at my leaving than I expected. I can see she misses my mother. Now that my father is easing into retirement and once I’m home, I can talk my parents into visiting Rio themselves.

  Adam and I have another long evening flight. The sun wore me out, so I don’t have a problem sleeping on this flight. We fly to Miami. It’s odd to be in the States again. This is our stopover as there were no direct flights to the island.

  We land at midday in St. Martin. A car takes us to the resort. Again, we have rooms with a connecting door. After we started sharing a bed, Adam wanted to cancel the extra rooms for the rest of the trip. I stopped him. It’s silly, but I don’t want my parents finding out that way. Since all the travel arrangements are on my dad’s credit card, it’s better to say nothing.

  The walls are white, and golden brown furniture with rattan inserts fill the room. I step out of my shoes and onto the cool blue tiled floor. The tiles match the bedding and accents.

  As pretty as the room is, it’s the view that captivates me. A sliding double door leads out to a small patio with privacy walls on each side. The ocean is right there, just steps from the patio. I open the door and move out onto it, the ocean breeze on my face. Adam follows, standing behind me, his arms around my waist.

  It’s good to be on our own again. We change into our suits and go straight to the beach. The ocean water is warm but still refreshing. In Brazil, we did nothing more than get our feet wet. Here, we swim. We play like children, splashing and dunking each other. We’re soon exhausted. We rinse off in the outdoor shower before napping away most of the afternoon.

  I surprise Adam that night by ordering a buttered tilapia for dinner. He says nothing but watches me intently as I take my first bite. I know he’s waiting for a reaction, something to let him know if I like it or not.

  I lift my napkin, daintily dabbing the corners of my mouth, before dropping it back in my lap and leaning toward him. “Absolutely delicious.”

  He bites into his king-sized shrimp with gusto. “Alfredo next.”

  I wrinkle my nose at the thought, and he laughs.

  “First girl who’s ever turned down my alfredo,” he jokes, raising one brow.

  “It’s not like you made it. It was takeout,” I argue.

  “Interesting. Would you have eaten some if I’d made it?”

  I shake my head and take another bite.

  After dinner, we share an ice cream sundae. Adam holds the cherry out for me. I keep my eyes on him as I close my lips around it. His breath hitches as he watches me.

  That night, we make love with the patio door open, our bodies matching the break of the waves hitting the shore. It’s after midnight and already our last full day together. I hope the darkness of our room hides the tears slipping from my eyes.

  I awake before Adam the next morning. I don’t need the small plastic box this time. I cradle the beautifully carved wooden box that holds my best friend and go outside. I sit with her in the sand. My legs are crossed. Her box sits on my lap.

  I watch the sunrise bleed orange into the ocean as it slowly makes its ascent. The void within me, left by her passing, hits me all over again. She wanted me to take this journey, so I could grow and find out who I am. The only things I’m sure of are that I miss her more now than I did when I started, and I know tomorrow I’ll say good-bye to the man I love.

  I press the box to my chest, its corners digging into me. It’s not designed to be held. It’s made to hold something. I sob as I open the lid. I blink and peer into the box, not believing she’s almost gone.

  Before I can talk myself out of it and hold on to her a bit longer, I tilt the box and spill her ashes in the sand in front of me. Her ashes mix right into the white sand so quickly that I flex my fingers in the spot. It’s as if I’ve lost her all over again.

  I pull my knees to my chest, drop my head, and cry. I startle when strong arms wrap around me. Adam must have woken up to find me gone, and he went off in search of me. He didn’t need to go far. I’m steps away from our patio. He holds me as I mourn Ally.

  “Shh, I’m here,” he says, holding me tightly.

  He picks me and the box up and carries me back to our room, setting the now empty box on the table beside me. He closes the sliding door to the patio and pulls the shades, darkening the room before coming back to our bed. Then, he just holds me.

  I mourn the presence of Ally in my life. I mourn the fact that she never had a child of her own. I mourn the wedding she never had. I mourn the trip she didn’t get to take, and I mourn not being able to talk to her about Adam.

  When I’m finally cried out, Adam dries my face. I reach out for him. I am empty. I need him to fill me. His touch reawakens me and pulls me past my grief.

  We don’t stray far from our room that day. The only things in our world are the sand, the sun, the surf, and each other. We’re saying good-bye tomorrow.

  Time doesn’t slow for us. The purples and blues of the sun’s descent fill the sky. It’s our last night together, and I still don’t even know if he’s going to miss me when I’m gone. I know I’ll miss h
im. I try not to think about it. I can’t imagine a day without him in it.

  We’re quiet over dinner. While the guests around us party, we hardly eat. He stretches his arm across the table, reaching for my hand, like he’s trying to get as much of my touch while he still can.

  After dinner, we slowly walk back to our room. The beach is lit up by the resort. Somehow, the black of the sky is a shade lighter than the darkness of the ocean, allowing me to differentiate between them. I try to focus on anything other than the fact that this is our last night together. Adam’s different too, tense. He fills the night with random words, almost as if the silence scares him.

  I listen, dazed, as he speaks about some of his previous trips. After an hour, I tug him inside, realizing what he’s doing. He’s delaying our going to bed. He’s using his stories to stay awake to avoid the night ending. As much as I love hearing about his travels, I kiss him to silence him.

  I want to stay awake, feeling his heart beating against mine. I need to lose myself in him again. When my lips touch his, he knows.

  Tonight, I shake in his arms and wait for him to tell me how he feels about me. I wait all night for words that never come.

  ***

  We have the same flight back to the States, stopping in Miami. From there, Adam will fly to New York, and I will go to California.

  We make love one last time that morning. I should tell him that I love him right then, but I’m scared that he doesn’t love me back. As long as I don’t know, I can always hope that he does.

  From the hotel to the airport, he only lets go of my hand once to go to the gift shop. Our plane to Miami is small, two seats on one side and only one seat on the other side of the aisle.

  I have the window seat. I blink away the tears I don’t want him to see as I watch the island disappear from view. Our flight is three hours. He pushes the armrest between us up, and we hold each other the whole flight. I want to memorize his scent, the texture of his fingertips, and the curve of his lips.

  Our connecting flights are in different directions. We stand at the halfway point, his hand on my cheek, as he kisses me good-bye.