The Solitude of Passion

by Addison Moore

  He shoots a look over to Janice. “Made it.” Colt gives an apprehensive smile that says something else all together.

  “Who are we picking up again?” I’m so scatterbrained these days. He might have mentioned it. I look from Colt to Janice, but they’re lost with their eyes fixed firmly on the passengers as they step out of the elongated hall. “What color hair does she have?” I ask, only half-teasing.

  Colt frowns into me, his entire demeanor downgrades to something just this side of pissed, but if I didn’t know better, I’d swear it was sorrow.

  “What’s going on?” I latch onto his shoulder and step into him. Something in me lurches as if instinctually I know this isn’t good.

  “Lee.” He presses his lips together until they bleach out like paper. “I need to tell you something.”

  “What?” A fire line rips through me—panic a mile wide. A palpable buzz ignites in the air—an electric clatter of people speaking all at once. Happy passengers reunited with waiting relatives sink into the crowd. “What?”

  His Adam’s apple rises and falls as he eyes the gate behind me. He doesn’t say anything else. An explosion of tears fills his eyes and spill out on the front of his T-shirt. He holds his stare, stone cold like a statue, as if he’s been eviscerated on an emotional level, and I can’t figure out why.

  “Colt?” Everything in me goes numb.

  I turn slowly and follow his gaze. The world warps, the voices morph into one another until it sounds outright demonic. A bomb is about to go off, and I have a feeling Colton led me straight to the fuse. Janice gasps. She clutches at her throat as if she were struggling to breathe, her eyes still locked in the distance.

  The planet, the universe, it’s all off kilter. My insides transform into a ball of nerves because I can’t for the life of me figure out what in the hell is happening.

  My breathing picks up. My adrenaline surges like a cyclone. I can hear the echo of a heartbeat in my ears as the world clots up around me.

  A line of photographers nine deep garners my attention. All eyes are focused on the small dark cave that spits passengers out in sparse numbers. They light up the room with a photomontage and the ceiling quivers like lightning.

  A body stains the doorway with its shadow. Swear to God, if Colt dragged my ass down here to see some celebrity, some aged hippy who makes his living singing about margaritas, I’m going to—

  Janice screams—she howls like a jackal in the desert, a primal scream so visceral it rails along my nerves like the serrated edge of a very sharp knife. I snap my head back to the holding area as passengers continue to stream out into the clearance. They move briskly around a man who remains steadfast—he catches my stare and holds it, doesn’t move a muscle.

  It looks like…same glowing eyes, same hair, but it couldn’t be. I don’t want to say his name. I don’t want to burn this day to the ground, and judging by the way Colt and Janice are acting, its already in cinders, headed for the ash heap.

  The man offers a heavy smile, and I blink up at him in amazement. His smile slowly stretches into a grin. He holds that familiar face I’ve longed to see for an unimaginable eternity.

  “Oh my, God,” it comes out less than a whisper.

  The ground warps and shifts. Time freezes—the frenzy, the noise, the population at large ceases to exist.

  “Mitch?”

  Everything in me loosens. A slap of shock so violent jars my body I lose the ability to feel, to breathe, to understand a damn thing I’m seeing. I part the manic sea of bodies like swimming upstream, never losing eye contact, never daring to blink. This feels like a dream within a dream. The illogic of the moment drowns out the voices, circumvents the laws of nature, and he’s still here, stepping toward me—hesitant—alarmingly familiar.

  Mitch.

  I don’t question the illusion, simply race to his likeness.

  “Lee,” he says my name with those lips—his voice clear and strong.

  Our bodies collide, and he remains solid as I wrap my arms around him. He doesn’t evaporate like smoke, like so many times in my nightmares. I jump up and hike my legs over his hips, knocking the two of us to the ground like bowling pins. I crash my lips over his and devour his mouth, his tongue, his teeth as I dig my fingers into his shoulders.

  God I can feel him, taste him. I’m sinking into the lie, and I never want to let go.

  Everything in me electrifies as I dissolve into kisses as strong as a power surge. These were deep lingual epithets that gave testament to the glory that is known as love. Dynamic convulsions erupt in my body beyond any pleasure I have ever known. My insides quiver as I dive deeper and deeper into this mysterious new abyss.

  We must have been in a spectacular crash. I must be lying in a coma or lying in state because I’m devouring Mitch—soaking in the familiar feel of his frame beneath me. It is all so real I want the world to recognize this master delusion—quantify it with their own optical imagery. I would have thought he was a stranger had he not said my name. But he came back to me. He moved a mountain and found his way back.

  We roll over the floor like bear cubs in a lust driven tirade. I pull away a moment and catch his sweet smile before we both break out in tears. My lips fall over his, and there is nothing in this world, above or below it, that can take away the exhilaration of this moment.

  “I love you, Lee.” His voice strains as he presses his lips to my neck. “God, I missed you.”

  “Mitch,” I whisper. It’s more than a dream. It’s real.

  He rolls over on top of me and rains kisses over my face with his lips before running his tongue deep into my mouth with a renewed vigor. These magical kisses stretch out for weeks, for months, for five long years.

  A soft prod lands on my side, and we both look up at the unfriendly face of airport security.

  I pull Mitch over to Janice and Colton. They fall over him with tears and laughter, a scream still locked in his mother’s throat. Colt pulls back and socks him in the arm as if he had simply returned from a grocery run.

  A young man with a sharp gold tie takes Mitch by the arm, redirects him over to a handful of film crews as a crowd of microphones are thrust in his presence.

  Mitch looks over at me, and his smile widens.

  I can’t stop staring. I can’t stop shaking. This is real, and all of this madness unfolding around us is because he’s back. The whole world held its breath for five long years, and today we exhale together.

  “I’m pretty tired,” Mitch whispers into the microphone at the helm of this media circus. “I think for now I’ll defer all questions to my skilled attorney. I’ve got a wife and family to get back to.” He gives a wink to the sharp dressed man by his side and heads back over.

  A knot settles in my stomach and rips through the enthusiasm with an unpleasant surprise. His words burn through my heart. Wife and family. For a moment I wonder if I qualify for either of those things.

  The sharp sting of reality comes back in a rush. I’ve done the unthinkable and married his longtime rival—handed the keys to the kingdom over to Max Shepherd—Max who I love.

  I push all thoughts of Mono out of my brain.

  I’ve got Mitch now and a three-hour car drive. I’m not going there just yet. I’m going to enjoy Mitch. My husband.

  Mitch wraps his arms around me and presses his lips over mine. It feels so familiar, so achingly real it guts me on a primal level.

  “What happened?” I whisper. “Where were you?” An entire tidal wave of questions beg to erupt.

  “I went to some makeshift church service and never came back.” Mitch presses into me almost apologetically. “I got arrested for being a spy.” He tightens his arms around my waist and blesses the top of my head with a kiss before continuing. “They sent me to something just this side of a prison camp—called a reeducation center.” His eyes squint a smile all their own. “No judge, no jury—the police decide who goes and how long they stay.” He glances over at Colt and Janice. “They locked me u
p and threw away the key until that guy showed up.” He nods over at the attorney still wading through questions. “He helped untangle the knots to get me released.”

  “What the hell were they educating you on?” Colt looks good and pissed.

  Mitch washes his gaze over me and presses out a sad smile. “Heartbreak.”

  A herd of photographers make their way over, and Colt pushes us toward the exit.

  “And we’re out of here.” Colton leads us out of the terminal and into the streets, where we breathe the same fresh air for the first time in years.

  Mitch and I dive into the backseat of Colt’s Suburban and lock into one long embrace. We fall over our I love yous as our lips collide like a dream. We run our hands over one another as though we were mapping out new terrain.

  I don’t want to think of the confusion, the fallout of Mitch’s great life reprisal. This is my waking fantasy come to life, and I just want to take in every moment he’s here safe in my arms.

  “Mitch,” I breathe his name, memorizing his features as though they were all brand new to me, and on some level they are. I let my lips familiarize themselves with the landscape of his forehead, his eyes, cheeks, his chin. He’s perfect. This is perfect love. A dream I refuse to wake up from.

  “I love you, Mitch. Thank you for coming back to me.”

  Mitch

  Lee settles in my arms, and I rest my head over hers as I watch the grey highway needle into the horizon. Cars whiz by in a blur. The trees in the distance dot the ever-increasing blue expanse, and I marvel at how big the sky is. All of this is new again. It was buried there in my memory, and, now, here I am, experiencing it all for the first time in years. But its Lee my body is keyed into—her steady breathing—her amazingly precious face that hasn’t aged a day. She looks identical to the last time I saw her, so does Colt and Mom—makes me wonder if any of it was real, if China exists at all.

  The baby filters through my mind but I’m too afraid to say anything. Lee hasn’t mentioned it. Maybe the trauma of losing me caused her to have a miscarriage? Maybe she forgot she was having our baby all those years ago so I don’t bring it up.

  Soon as we can, Colt pulls over, and we step into a fast food restaurant to grab a bite. I don’t take my arms or eyes off Lee, beautiful, gorgeous, stunning Lee. I hold her like I never left, like it hadn’t been far too long since I touched her in the flesh. I bury my face in her hair and take in her clean scent. My fingers curve around her back to the beginnings of her soft breasts, and it makes me want to pull her into the bathroom and have my way with her.

  Mom goes on forever about how thin I am while itemizing all my favorite foods and putting together a verbal grocery list.

  We get our burgers and opt to eat outside beneath a giant red umbrella. The pink hue washes over Lee and makes her glow, tints her hair, and I take her in like this. Colt sets down a tray, and I take a careful sip from my soda. It tastes like heaven. The burger looks enormous, like ten meals in one, but I can’t focus on anything else but my beautiful bride. I’m hungry, but it’s nothing some ground round is going to satisfy.

  “I almost forgot.” Her mouth opens with a renewed surprise. “You have a daughter! Stella.”

  “A girl.” A small laugh trembles from my chest. A wave of relief collapses over me and I fight the urge to cry. “Stella? I love that.” I pull Lee in and close my eyes—I remember the days I called Lee, Stella. “That’s a perfect name.”

  “I have a picture.” She fidgets with her purse.

  “Gorgeous girl,” Mom says. She opens her mouth to say something else then closes it again.

  “Here.” Lee holds out a svelte black square of a phone like the one Kyle Wong had. I hold it up and examine the picture.

  A girl stares back at me, and I’m stunned at how old she looks. She’s almost five, I know this, but for some reason I pictured her as a newborn, a toddler at the most. Her hair is blonde like Lee’s, long in twin braids. I can see myself in her smile, her lawn green eyes.

  “You’re right Mom,” I whisper, my voice breaking at the sight of this sweet daughter I’ve yet to meet. “She is gorgeous just like her mother.” I swallow hard unable to take my eyes off her. “Can I meet her today?” It’s strange to ask permission. I’m still not sure where I fit in or if Stella knows anything about me.

  “Of course, you’re going to meet her today.” Lee says it with forced determination. She takes the phone back, shuts it off before replacing it in her purse. “Mom, we’ll go to your place.” She bites her lip when she says it. Lee always bites down on her lip when she’s nervous. That small action unsettles me, makes me wonder what has Lee rattled other than my spontaneous resurrection.

  “So, where do you live?” I give a gentle smile to Lee and my insides bounce as if they were hungry for something only her flesh could offer.

  Her eyes round out with surprise and I’m suddenly regretting going there so soon.

  “Sorry”—I glance down at my food a moment—“I promised myself I wouldn’t pry, but if you’re an hour away or more, I wouldn’t want to put you out.” Truth is, I want to put them all out. Something about the conversation is strained, and it’s starting to feel like I have to dig for details. I’m not sure why, but I thought they’d spill the news of their world like an oil slick on the drive over.

  “I’m still at the beach house.” Her features relax. Her lips curve at the edges. “I’d never leave. That’s all I had of you—other than Stella.”

  My heart soars. Our house. She never left. Maybe she’s single? I glance down at her ring finger. It’s bejeweled and quite nicely. It’s not my ring though. This one is much bigger, and the diamonds are in the wrong configuration. My stomach lurches and suddenly just being near food makes me want to vomit.

  “How’s the vineyard?” I shift in my seat, directing the question to my mother.

  “It’s in great hands.” Her voice is calm, even-keeled. She looks serene when she says it, so I believe her.

  I glance over at Colt. “Are they your hands?”

  “Nope,” he shoots back. There’s an undertone of irritation when he says it so I take it Colt doesn’t approve of the hands it’s settled in.

  “Then it must great,” I tease. “Tell me about your life, Colt.” I slide in tight next to Lee, wrap both my arms around her like she might float into the air if I don’t.

  “Same old, same old. Still skin diving, enjoying life.”

  “You took up diving?” I’m surprised by this. I tried to get Colt to surf for years. Colt swore he was allergic to water.

  “Diving for women,” Lee corrects. “He’s become the predator we always knew he could be.” Lee gives me a squeeze while brushing a series of soft kisses along my neck.

  “Excellent. And you?” I direct it to my mother. Her dark hair looks freshly died, her bright lipstick neatly applied. She looks beautiful in her own right. “How’s the world treating you?”

  “Better now than ever before.” It comes from deep within her, soulful. I could see the years of hurt etched in her eyes, and I’m damn glad I lived long enough to help take it away.

  “We need to marry her off”—Colt eases into a grin—“find her some old playboy that can keep up with her.” He nudges her gently, and she makes a face. I can’t imagine Mom with anyone but my dad. Too bad he didn’t feel the same.

  “How about you, Lee?” The words come stilted from my lips. Something about asking Lee about her personal life scares the hell out of me. “What’s going on with you?”

  A bird chirps in the background, a car pulls into the drive-thru—all the world fills in the void of this inescapable silence.

  Colt plucks his drink from his mouth. “We better hit the road. Traffic’s going to be a real bitch.”

  Lee and I bag our food. Neither of us took a bite.

  She’s quiet on the ride home. Our bodies are intertwined, but there’s a notable decrease in the number of kisses she offers. Something tells me the number is about to plum
met the closer we get to Mono.

  My mother’s home erects itself like a relic from some bygone era, still wearing all the pride from my childhood. The palm trees out front stand like watchmen on either side of the entry, the bright red Impatients dot the border garden in the exact same pattern they had when I left.

  We head in and I take in the familiar scent of refried oil, the slight hint of garlic permeates the air. Everything is exactly as it was the day I left—the furniture sits unrepentantly the same. I stride around the house of my youth and inhale the familiar scent held hostage in my memory for so long. It’s unbelievable on some level. I half-expect my father to come down the stairs and greet me.

  Mom ushers us into the family room. There’s a breathtaking view of the vineyard with a tangerine sunset just cresting the hillside. It ignites the landscape with all its salmon-colored glory. The frame of the window makes it look like an oil painting. The bright green rows of precious vines still line the property.

  “It’s still here,” I muse.

  “It’s still here, Mitch,” Lee whispers warm into my ear and circles her arms around my waist. “Come on.” She coaxes me over to the couch and kicks off her shoes. Lee pulls me in and settles herself in my lap. Her head falls over my chest without hesitation and we hold each other just like we used to in high school.

  “Colton, call for take-out,” Mom barks the order while hauling in a tray with a pitcher and glasses. “We need to get some meat on those bones, Mitch.” She sets down her load and pours both Lee and me a glass of lemonade.

  A widescreen television sits hooked to the wall and demands my attention. The only new addition in five years, and I’m pretty sure Colton’s purchasing power was behind it.

  “You okay with Chinese?” Colt asks, his eye twitches like there’s genuine concern behind the question. “You’re not gonna go post traumatic on us, are you?”