by Tiana Laveen
“You heard what my brother said. Do you feel that you were wrong or right about me now?”
“I don’t know. The jury is still out on that. What I do know is that sometimes things like this are complicated. You’re complicated, Van. I’m complicated. Life is complicated. See, here’s what you don’t seem to understand. I am not someone who needs a man. I was that woman before I met you, but that was years ago. After what I’ve been through in life, the final straw being my nightmarish time with Damien, I had to do some soul searching. Life is so short and precious… I almost allowed a man to make me think mine wasn’t worth a damn. For the record, that same man had the audacity to stop by my house unannounced the other day. He went as far as to remove his clothing in my living room while I searched for his stuff. That’s how I found him… and none of it affected me in the least. I didn’t tell him I was in love with someone else. I didn’t have to. He figured it out.”
A thick, sludge-like heaviness filled his belly. Her words channeled his possessiveness, triggered his jealousy, his greed for her love. He clenched his teeth, then quickly pulled himself together, but it was no easy talk. Flashes of the naked ball player trying to seduce her in her home burned within him like the sparked flame of rage that it was. “But what really got him, whether he admitted it or not, Vangelis, is that regardless of whether you were in the picture or not, he would not have a way back inside my heart. Ever.”
I suggest you mean that… I don’t share. Ever.
“I am too important, too precious, too wonderful and gifted to ever allow a man—be it Damien, you, my brother, my father or the man on the moon—to control me once more to the point that I am unable to value all the blessings I possess. I am a doctor… a damn good one, I might add. I mean something in this world.” Her eyes glossed over as she smiled. “I have friends and people who care about me. I have hobbies. I enjoy wine tastings, taking photographs of people. I like going to fairs. I love to write poetry, Vangelis. It’s my little hidden, private thing that I do. My lines don’t always rhyme or make sense, but they’re mine, and they are from my heart. Many times I can create one in my mind at the drop of a dime. It’s my medication…
“I have a drawer full of notebooks filled with nothing but poetry. My emotions, my heart, my love… and yes, my hate, spilled out on paper like wine stains from a glass I’ve toppled over in a fit of indignation, or perhaps, if I’m lucky, passion. They’re my diaries, so to speak. So here we are… back to your question which basically is, ‘Why do I fuck with you if I know you are damaged, that you run from the idea of a wedding like it’s the plague and seem to be keen on hiding secrets?’ I fuck with you because we’re crazy compatible. I fuck with you because you care about me, Van. You genuinely give a shit if I live or die… you take good care of me. I fuck with you because I can see you struggling to be a better man in spite of it all. I see you look at me, and you struggle, asking yourself if you should speak, say your truth! When we make love, I hear your confessions, the things you couldn’t say while fully clothed.
“I fuck with you because you are the first damn person to believe me about my leg and not make it seem like I was crazy or exaggerating! I fuck with you because you know how to touch me. Not just physically, but in my heart.” She placed her hand against her chest. “I fuck with you because you’re smart and caring. I fuck with you because for some strange reason, you are in my life right now and you make me feel good every time we cross paths! You might be here for only a season.” She shrugged her shoulders. “Hell if I know… but I think we are supposed to teach each other some things. We’re supposed to learn and grow from this experience. That’s why I’m sitting over here in your home with you, Van. That’s why, okay?”
He nodded his head as she returned her attention to the magazine. Silence reigned for what felt like an eternity. His mind raced. So many thoughts and emotions…
“I love you,” he finally stated.
“I know you do,” she said behind a yawn.
“Can I tell you what Nico was talking about now?”
“Only if you want to.”
He took a deep breath.
“I do. Okay, here’s what happened…”
Mariya Takeuchi’s ‘Plastic Lover’ started to play at that moment. Reaching out with both hands to pick up the glass of red wine he’d been nursing for the past hour, he stared down into the burgundy liquid and reflected.
“Harmony was a woman I was in love with. She was a lawyer. My mother hated her… as usual. She doesn’t want me with anyone who isn’t Greek. Not only that, Harmony was very headstrong and my mother has this idea that women can’t be feminine and still in charge of their own minds and opinions. Anyway, Harmony was half Japanese and half White. We were together for almost five years. She believed she loved me more than I loved her. That wasn’t true.
“I wasn’t ready to settle down, like get married, and she kept pressuring me. Instead of telling her that we weren’t good for each other because she wanted something I didn’t, I cheated.” He took a big gulp of his wine, then set it down. “I didn’t want to lose her, so I took the easy way out. It was a horrible, cowardly thing to do. I didn’t think anyone knew, but apparently, she told Nico. Nico was the one that introduced us, actually. He’d consulted her for some property he was trying to purchase and one day I met up with him there at her office since he and I were supposed to go motorcycle riding that day.”
“You like meeting women through brothers, huh?” She teased.
He could barely smile, so all he did was nod.
“Yeah… seems that way. And here I was yelling at Nico about cheating. I know it looks and sounds bad, but I don’t see my situation the same as his.”
“Why not? You both messed around on someone you professed to love.” The bite in her tone was unmistakable. It was more than evident that the notion of cheating was a sore spot for the woman. He couldn’t say that he blamed her.
“But see, I hadn’t married Harmony, Sahara. To me, marriage is a big deal, just like I told you. I can look you in your eyes and tell you that I would never cheat on a woman that I took vows with. Even though she and I were together, I didn’t see us as… what’s the word?”
“Committed?”
“No. We were committed. But that thing that goes on between two people, that cord that keeps us together hadn’t formed. I wouldn’t allow it. It was me… definitely me. Anyway, unlike Nico, I did tell her right away that I had messed around. Naturally, she was upset, but we got through it. Then a year or so passed and…” He looked down into the wine glass once again, his heart beating so fast and hard. “I found out that, uh, she was fucking my best friend, and it wasn’t a one-time thing or payback from when I had cheated. It had been going on for a while.”
Sahara’s eyes grew large and her mouth dropped open.
“Here’s the kicker.” He ran his hand along his face. “The night I found out, I had an engagement ring for her, Sahara. I had gotten us a reservation at Baci, her favorite Italian restaurant.”
“Baci is lovely.”
“Yeah, it is… and I had it all planned out. I lied to her and told her I had to work late. So, my plan was to stop by her house, surprise her with flowers and a present, and tell her we were going to have a late dinner. I had a key to her place, so I just let myself in. I immediately knew something wasn’t right when I walked in. I went upstairs and there they were… fucking. I stood there watching. They had no idea I was at the bedroom door. I can still see everything so vividly. I watched as he shoved his cock in and out of my girlfriend, his pale ass pivoting up and down… stealing what was rightfully mine. Enjoying what was supposed to be just for me.
“I listened to the sounds they made, and I could smell the sex in the air. I… I was never the same after that. I stood there taking it all in—my senses on overload. They were screwing each other in the same bed I had fucked her in just that morning. I couldn’t believe it! I hadn’t told anyone I was going to propose. I just knew I was r
eady! I went against my family. I tossed my fears away and told myself, ‘She is the one, so stop playing around and just do it.’ I saw red, Sahara. Finally, Harmony saw me and screamed. I snapped! I tore that entire place up! I beat the hell out of my friend, the police were called… I had blood all over my hands.
“I’m a gun owner, so thank God I didn’t have it with me that night because I promise you I would have shot and killed him, Sahara.”
Sahara drew closer to him and wrapped her arm around his waist, pulling him in for a kiss.
“Despite how I may come across, I … I’m really possessive of who I am dating, especially if I am in love. I made a mistake.” He shook his head as a tear fell from his eye. “I messed around on her and broke the trust. I was wrong, but I would have never messed with a friend of hers and I definitely wouldn’t have taken her back after she cheated only to stay and plot payback. She wanted to hurt me… get back at me… and boy did she. If she didn’t trust me anymore, she should have just left me.”
“I completely agree with that.”
“I took it as a sign that I’m never to be married. I mean, what are the odds of that, you know? Me finding out what she’d been up to on the night that I was to ask her to be my wife?” He shook his head. “After that, I just gave up on the idea that I would ever have a wife. I never told anyone what happened.
“I dated, I would have sexual relationships, but as far as marriage, it was the furthest thing from my mind. I didn’t trust women, Sahara. It was totally traumatic. Apparently, she neglected to tell Nico that part of the story.”
“Your reaction was completely understandable after what happened, Vangelis. It all makes sense now why you feel the way you do.”
“It took me so long… so damn long to get to the point where I was comfortable committing and then for her to turn around and do me that way… I was ruined. She tried to reconcile after we didn’t speak for a few months, but I just couldn’t. There was no way I could get that image out of my head. Funny, I don’t even know why but after things had cooled down and we communicated again, I asked her if he was better than me in bed.” He laughed mirthlessly. “I didn’t ask her if she loved him or he loved her; I didn’t ask her any of that. At that point, I didn’t even give a shit. Anyway, she told me he was mediocre, and that I was the best lover she’d ever had. I asked her why she would risk that then, you know, that kind of connection. She explained that it had nothing to do with sex… that I always made her feel special and wanted when we made love. She explained it had to do with how I behaved and acted when we weren’t…”
“That’s deep. How were you acting?”
“Detached. Uncaring. Critical.” He dropped his head and fought the budding tears. He wasn’t crying over the end of the relationship. He was crying because, at that moment, he realized he still had some of the same fucking problems that he had all of those years ago. Where was his evolution? The realization stung. “She said for years it seemed every day I was judging her, telling her what she was doing wrong and what needed improvement. She said she never felt like she could please me. There she was, a highly sought after attorney. She was beautiful! She came from a well off family and we enjoyed each other’s company but then… I did what I do, and I nitpicked… I nagged… I became highly upset if she would not follow my suggestions in her professional and private life.
“She was doing things that didn’t make sense to me… emotional decisions that weren’t based in logic. I was only trying to help, Sahara! But now, years after Harmony has long gone, I am once again confronted with the fact that I have a pattern of behavior. A very bad pattern! I am the problem, Sahara! Not the countless women!” He tapped his chest with his index finger. “I became convinced that I’d just be a better boyfriend than husband. Not because I couldn’t be faithful, but it seems the more I care about a woman, the more things fall apart. It was better to just stay away. But then… I met you…”
She smiled. Taking her face into his hands, he brought her closer and crushed her lips in a kiss. “I’m ready for love again. I want you so badly, baby.”
His heart beat harshly within him as she gripped his shoulders and wrapped her warm thighs around his waist. Depositing her on her back, he stripped her naked, drifted low and devoured her pussy one longing lick at a time. Her moans married the music as he held her close to his mouth, her pussy like a cup pouring libations against his eager tongue. He soon realized he was grinding against the couch, his body fucking the cushion, desperate to get closer to her. He eyed her carefully, ensuring he was taking her to cloud nine as she ran her fingers through his hair and pushed him deeper into her sweet abyss.
“Oh God…” she cooed, pumping her hips against his face.
“You taste sooo good, baby. You’re mine now, you know that, right? We’re together… I’m your man. No more pussyfooting around and dancing about in limbo. We’re together… committed. Exclusively.” He pulled gently on her clit, surrounding it with his lips then released it before tongue stroking it as fast as he could muster. She exploded against his mouth, her back arched. He held on tight. “I helped heal your leg. Now we can help heal each other’s hearts…”
Pulling her up to a sitting position, he hugged her hard. He couldn’t describe what was happening, but his damn heart was exploding in his chest. He silently cried as she embraced him, and traced the side of his face with soft kisses as he buried his head against her breasts. Tearing himself away from his wave of self-pity and worries, he flipped her on her stomach and entered her fast and hard. She screamed out, clawing at his couch, her fingers dragging down and digging deep into the expensive material.
“Vangelis!” she screamed as she shuddered beneath him.
His thrusts were jerky, lovely and violent… his sexual need for her in overdrive.
“Just let me have you! Let me fuck you deep, baby. Your pussy feels so good! Wet and warm… beautiful as you want to be. Oh yes, baby… the doctor is inside of you…”
He made love to her with all his heart, mind, body and soul. Nails digging deep into her hips, he hissed as he came hard, jerking and fighting his demons. Reaching forward, he gripped her breasts and squeezed them as his body shook ferociously against hers, expelling the last of his velvety gift…
Sweaty and spent, he fell down upon her, pressing her into the soft throw pillows that had toppled over during their tryst. He kissed her back as he wrapped his arms around her. After being hot and bothered for so long, he now felt a coolness in the air.
“Do you have any of your poems memorized?”
She was quiet for a spell. Perhaps his question seemed out of left field… but it wasn’t. He was always thinking about her, replaying the words she said inside his mind.
“Yes…” He turned her over and nestled between her thighs. Taking a few strands of her hair between his fingers, he twisted them slowly. They lay naked against one another, their body heat and heartbeats merging and becoming one.
“I want to hear one.”
“It’s personal…”
“I understand. Maybe we can make a deal. Can I trade you something to hear one?” She looked at him quizzically. “Is there something very personal you want to ask me or have from me in exchange?”
She wrapped her arms around his shoulders.
“No. What I want in exchange is for you to be willing to be free, Vangelis. I want you to not run from vulnerability. You expect open hearts and full disclosure from others, but don’t always give it. I can’t be with you if those are the rules of engagement.”
He cocked his head to the side and glared at her.
She doesn’t play fair. Is this how she barters? But I already said I need to change and work on just what she described.
He mulled her words over in is head… around and around they went like a Ferris wheel.
But I want her. And she wants me. She needs to trust me. But how can she fully trust me if I want her to be open with me, but I do not give the same in exchange? I told myself I w
anted this to be different. Sahara is not Harmony, and frankly, I am not the same man I was all those years ago, either…
“All right. I will put forth the effort.”
“Okay. I am going to hold you to that, Vangelis.”
“Please do.”
“Oh, before I give you what you asked for, I heard your brother call you Angel a few times during your argument with him.”
“If he is the only one talking during ninety percent of it, then it is hardly an argument.” He chuckled.
“Point taken, but uh, is that a nickname or something?”
“Yeah. My mother calls me that. When they call me that—my brothers, that is—it’s to tease me.”
“Well, I like it.”
He smiled at her words.
“So, are you gearing up to try and say you want to call me that, too?” He smirked.
“Not necessarily, I just pay attention to names and terms of endearment is all. It interests me.”
He nodded in understanding before giving her a peck on the lips.
“Okay, I want to hear your words. Tell me a poem about love… about us.”
She cleared her throat and closed her eyes…
“When I look in the mirror I see a woman covered in ash…
Her waist is bound in chains like a metal and iron sash.
Her hair is curled like rolling waves from the ocean…
Her hips frame the most succulent black potion.
When I look into his eyes I see hills of green smoke…
Greek history, Greek present, Greek great European hope.
I see a cage built around a Greek heart…
Greek past, Greek lies, Greek endings, Greek starts.
When I look into our hearts I see blazing twin flames…
Our pain masks the hurt of a million miles we travelled with no names.
We are hopeless and yet when I touch him, I feel the love of a beautiful man…
Tan flesh, dark hair, and a past like a Mediterranean desert, covered in the hills of sand…
