“Nothing, bella. You look good—very beautiful.”
Luna had on black flared yoga pants and a tank top with a graphic image of Ganesha the elephant, remover of obstacles—though he also places obstacles in the path of those who need to be checked. Shaking her head as if to brush off his flirtation, she replied, “You always tease me, Nico. Why do you do that?”
He replied innocently, “I don’t know what you mean, Luna.”
His hair was significantly longer than the last time Luna had seen him, and she wondered if it was by design or if he’d just been lazy about getting to the salon. Drinking in the sight of him, she observed he hadn’t shaved. His scruffy beard made him even more alluring, conjuring up the image of a rogue figure from a romantic novel. Luna began to feel heady and unsure of herself, but, thankfully, a breeze swept in from the ocean through the open glass doors. She peered out at the sea to avoid his penetrating gaze.
“Luna, what is it you’re thinking? Is something troubling you?” Nico prompted.
She turned back to face him. His smoky green eyes smoldered. She always felt like he could read her mind, making her uncomfortable. Suddenly she felt uneasy being in Sofia’s house, as if her presence was illicit. Pushing her thoughts away, she collected herself. “Everything’s fine. Can we do our session outside like you suggested?”
Nico gave a knowing chuckle. “Of course, bella. Let’s get to it.” He got up and took her hand, escorting her onto the deck. Seeing the mats were already in place, she felt a pang of jealousy, assuming he and Sofia did this together all the time. Sitting on the mat, she followed Nico’s lead as they began an hour of yoga kriyas together. Sharing this moment with Nico, revitalized by the rhythmic sound of the waves, the smell of the salt water, and the feel of the ocean breeze through her hair, a peaceful contentment flooded her.
Focused on the kriyas, she drank in the sight of him without inhibition. A lock of his black hair fell over his brow. Guiding her through the mantras, his hypnotic chant mesmerized her. His spine erect in Siddhasana, arms resting elegantly on his knees, he appeared tranquil, his movements graceful and unhurried. Mimicking the asanas and mudras perfectly and synchronizing with his breath in the pranayamas, she felt as if their bodies moved together in a pas de deux. She wished he were always in this state of grace.
When she heard, “Namaste,” the sun was high, raising the temperature on the deck. Luna stood up and stripped off her yoga pants and tank top—she was wearing a two-piece swimsuit underneath—and dove in the pool, taking Nico by surprise. But just as she had expected, he dashed in headfirst right after her and playfully swam between her legs. Luna sat on the side of pool, leaving her feet dangling in the water. Sweeping her hair to one side and twisting it around to keep it in place, she watched Nico swim laps, doing a perfect flip-turn at each end of the pool. Then he hoisted himself onto the ledge next to her, his wet suit clinging to his thighs and outlining his manhood. Shaking his wet hair like a dog, he splashed Luna, who giggled with delight and pushed her hands against his chest as he laughed. Dispensing with her towel, she lay down next to him on the deck to dry off, basking in the warmth of the wood against her back. Closing her eyes, all sense of time evaporated.
“Come, bella. Let’s walk on the beach.”
Startled back into the present, she squinted, blocking the sun with one hand. Nico was standing over her. Luna obediently got up without questioning and padded behind him down the stairs in her bare feet. They walked a short distance to where the tide came up, where Luna watched the waves systematically erase each of Nico’s footprints in the warm sand. Walking without speaking, she occasionally picked up a shell or small piece of sea glass, then finally said, “Did I tell you I won the Costume Designers Guild Award?”
Nico shook his head. “That’s great, Luna! When?”
She looked down as they kept walking. “The awards were at the end of February. It was for best costumes in a Contemporary TV Series, but I doubt I’ll get nominated for an Emmy.”
“There’s always next year,” he offered.
Luna shook her head slowly. “No. All the period pieces get nominated. Like Boardwalk Empire, Downton Abbey, and Game of Thrones. I don’t know, Nico. I’m getting to the age where Hollywood starts to push you out. I’m probably just about done with my career.”
Nico stopped and embraced her. “Luna, bella,” he said kindly. “Remember what I say about age—we have made it up. Just because Hollywood might not see your talent and value your wisdom doesn’t mean you don’t have it anymore.”
His physical demonstration took her by surprise. Tearing up, she said quickly, “That’s sweet, Nico. You say wise things…”
Taking her hand as they continued walking, he smiled. “I’m sure you were the most beautiful woman there.”
They were silent for a while before Nico shared his thoughts. “Luna, I have so much going on. You know I’m going to Cannes in May to promote my film?”
They stopped at a pile of large rocks and sat down. He nervously bounced his leg. Petting his thigh, Luna politely overlooked that he had referred to Amaru of the Andes as his film. “So, Nico, that’s great news. Why are you nervous?”
He confided, “What if the film makes me look like a…” He couldn’t think of the word. “A…cartoon of a shaman?”
Luna asked, “Do you mean a stereotype? Or a caricature of a shaman?”
Nico nodded. “Yes, exactly. Like it’s a comedy or something. I want to be taken very seriously, and I want this documentary to help teach people about energy healing—that it’s ancient and to be respected. I want to open people up to its power.” He paused again. Then he looked at Luna. “Jacob showed me the first cut, and I actually like it a lot. I think I look good, but I want you to see it.”
“I’d love to, Nico.” They rose and began walking back to the house.
Nico continued sadly, “I have so much going on. I don’t know if I’ll be able to go home this year. I told Sofia I want her to come with me to meet Ita and Lucia.”
Luna caught his hand as they walked. “I’m very glad to hear that, Nico. Does this mean you’ve finally reconciled that she’s your girlfriend? I mean, you seemed pretty upset earlier.”
He didn’t look at her. “I suppose so. She’s very good to me…but it’s not passionate—as it should be—as I would like it to be. I just don’t feel that way about her, as you know. But we are best friends, and maybe I will take your advice.”
Luna winced when he called Sofia his best friend; Luna liked to think she was. Again sensing her feelings, he clasped her hand tighter. “Bella, don’t be jealous. You know how much you mean to me. But I remind you again, you’re married—and you’re holding my hand!” Still, he didn’t let go; in fact, he clasped it more firmly in his.
As they walked, he remained unusually quiet, then stopped, turned her to him, and swept her hair in his hands. “You look wild and beautiful here on the beach, Luna. Here with me.”
She didn’t respond—there was nothing she was brave enough to say. But she saw the wistful sadness in his eyes. She was usually the one to break eye contact, but this time it was Nico who looked down. “Luna! Your foot is bleeding!”
Startled, she looked down and saw that her foot was covered in blood. “Oh my! But it doesn’t hurt, Nico. Don’t worry.” She stuck her foot in the water to clear away the sand and noticed a small cut on her middle toe that must have come from a shell or sea glass. And it was still bleeding.
“Let’s walk back, Luna. I’ll fix it up for you,” Nico reassured her, holding her hand all the way to the house.
The bleeding had subsided, but Luna walked awkwardly through the living room on the way to the master bathroom, careful to not get any blood on the sisal rug.
A large antique sideboard painted a weathered shade of powder blue had been converted into a bathroom vanity by fitting a porcelain sink. It was just as Luna remembered from the party, except that Nico’s personal toiletries were no longer visible, and she ass
umed they must now have a permanent home in the drawers of the vanity. “Sit, Luna,” Nico commanded, taking charge as he gently guided her to the ledge surrounding the bathtub.
She watched with fascination as Nico opened one of the brass-handled drawers on the vanity and found a bottle of hydrogen peroxide. Dousing a cotton ball, he gingerly cradled Luna’s foot in his hand and cleaned the bloody laceration, carefully examining it to be sure no foreign object remained embedded. Asking if it hurt, he lightly dabbed the wound, then selected the perfect size Band-Aid and gently wrapped her toe. “There, that should do it.” He pursed his lips, proudly checking his handiwork. Looking at Luna from under his errant forelock, he asked, “Are you OK?”
Deeply moved by this tender ritual, Luna was speechless and just nodded her head. The intimacy overwhelmed her, and for some reason, made her feel like crying—not because she had cut her toe, and not because she wasn’t going with him to Cannes or on trips to Mexico. She felt like crying because it had been a perfect act of love.
Luna looked around the room at the young pretty girls, wannabe actresses, and saw a few familiar faces.
Nico sauntered around the class, watching the students like a lion stalking a herd of antelope. His thin yoga pants and T-shirt clung to his body, revealing every rippling muscle. Passing by her mat near the front of the class, he knelt and adjusted her posture, placing his hand on her belly to feel her breath, his face inches from hers. Approaching the next student, he touched her shoulder with an eye for perfection, and Luna observed her beam in satisfaction at his attention. All eyes were upon him and vying for his attention—even the men.
After class, Luna was getting ready to leave when Nico stopped her. “Where are you going?”
“Home, I guess,” she said, somewhat indecisively.
“Why don’t you stay and keep me company?”
Skipping the locker room, she collected her things and followed him into his apartment.
He called out from the kitchen, “Would you like a drink?”
“Sure,” she called back. He opened a bottle of wine and they moved to the sofa. Though it was dark, he didn’t turn on any lights; instead, he lit a candle. Opening his laptop, he played around on YouTube, and soon Luna heard a painfully beautiful song in Spanish.
“Do you know this song?” he asked.
“No.” She snuggled close to see the screen.
The video was of Richard Marx on acoustic guitar singing “Ahora Y Siempre,” “Now and Forever.” Nico sang along, his gaze locked with hers and his eyes glowing, the yellow flecks twinkling in the candlelight. Luna only understood a few of the Spanish words, but it didn’t matter. His voice was liquid, and he sang with such passion that her body pulsed with desire. He was so close, she could feel his body heat, and it made her uneasy. Why was he singing this to her? She feared he could sense her struggling with her feelings, but didn’t want to look away and break the connection. After a few minutes, she picked up her glass of wine.
“What’s wrong, Luna?” he asked cryptically.
“Nothing,” she answered, hoping he hadn’t noticed the tears pooling in her eyes.
Nico pressed, “Tell me what you’re thinking.”
Shaking her head, she didn’t answer.
Nico continued probing. “Is everything OK with you and Tyler?”
“Yes, certainly! Why do you ask?”
He continued provoking her. “I don’t think you love him, at least not the way I believe in love. You’re good friends, but there’s no passion. I see it in your eyes.”
Defensively, she said, “That’s not true, Nico. Passion changes over time. Besides, we’ve had this conversation before! I wouldn’t change anything. My relationship with Tyler is loving and intimate.”
Nico rolled his eyes, incensing her. “NO, it’s not hot sex in the back of a truck—like with Olivia.” She was audibly annoyed. “Stop, Nico. Just wait until you’ve been married as long as I have, then let’s see where you are.”
Nico shook his head. “I have awakened your sacral chakra, Luna. I’m afraid you do want more, but Tyler is not giving you want you want—what you need.”
Luna took another sip of wine, then put the glass down and stood up. “I’d better leave. It’s getting late.” That love song had stirred too many feelings, making her uncomfortable.
Nico trailed behind her. “Luna. I didn’t mean to upset you so that you would run away. Please, sit down.”
She picked up her handbag.
“Sit down, Luna,” he commanded, forcefully. She complied, but tears spilled down her cheeks. “Come here, bella. I’m sorry.” He enveloped her in his arms, then looked into her eyes. “We’ll work on it together. I will help you, I promise.”
When she stopped crying, he clicked on another YouTube video, saying gently, “Look at this.”
It was a World Cup soccer match from 1986 with the famous Argentine player Diego Maradona. Nico excitedly announced, “He’s the best player who ever lived. Ever!” Then he went on to narrate the plays like one of the announcers, yelling, “Gooooaaaalll,” when he scored.
Luna was relieved the love song was over, and she finally relaxed and laughed along with Nico.
When she collected her handbag again later, Nico reluctantly walked her to her car, opened the door for her, and gave her a list of safety instructions. She just nodded her head and smiled. His hand was resting on the window frame and she bent her head and kissed his knuckles, thanking him for a lovely evening. He pouted, “Ahhh, bella Luna. You are my special one. You’re the only true friend I have in this world.”
Luna whispered almost inaudibly, “I love you, Nico.”
He sighed, “I love you too, Luna.”
She started the engine, and he stepped away from the car as she pulled away.
Luna debated whether to head home or to the studio to see Nico. Earlier, Sofia had stopped by her office to say she’d told Nico she had accepted the job in New York. In between sobs, she admitted she’d been living a fantasy trying to make the relationship work—change him—make him better. She hated giving up, but knew she couldn’t take the abuse anymore. At first, he’d flown into a rage, calling her every name in the book. Then he’d shut down and left—refusing her calls.
Nervous he would be able to tell she already knew, Luna flinched when her phone rang and saw it was Nico. She wasn’t sure if she should, or would be able to cover it up.
At first, she didn’t recognize his voice, then realized he was crying. “Nico, what’s wrong? What happened?”
All she could understand between sobs was, “Can you meet me at the studio? Can you come now, please?”
When she got there, she found Nico in bed curled up in a ball. Sitting on his bed, she placed her hand gently on his shoulder. He shrugged her off, not wanting to be consoled. “What is it, Nico? What happened?” she asked.
His voice was listless. “She’s leaving me. Everyone leaves me alone.”
“What do you mean, leaving?”
Nico snapped, “Don’t play dumb, Luna. Sofia’s leaving me. She’s going to work on some stupid show in New York.”
She just went along, neither acting surprised nor admitting she already knew. “I’m so sorry, Nico. But it’s obviously a good opportunity for her. How can she say no to the studio?”
He suddenly raged, “Both of you are such idiots! Why should she go back to New York? It’s going backward! All the important people are here in L.A., not in New York! And I’m here! I’m a celebrity! If she leaves…I’m done with her.”
Luna tried explaining, “Nico, turning it down wouldn’t be looked on favorably. She’ll come back.”
He spat, “Fuck you, Luna. You women are all the same. This is what Olivia did to me, too.”
Luna went on the defensive, “Well, Nico, if you love her, you would make it work. But you already told me you don’t love Sofia the way you want, that you’re not passionate about her. So maybe this is for the best, anyway.”
Nico sat
up straight. “Did you tell her that? Did you tell her to leave me?”
She stared him down. “Absolutely not, Nico! I think she’s good for you, she loves you. I was disappointed you didn’t feel that strongly for her!”
He didn’t let up. With his heightened intuition, he always seemed to know when he was being deceived or if there were secrets or information hidden under the surface. “What did she tell you?” he asked. “Luna, you’d better tell me, and tell me now. Do not protect her. You’re my friend, not hers.”
Luna knew it was useless to try hiding anything from him. Making light of it, she gave an abbreviated version. “Sofia wrote me a couple of e-mails saying how angry you get if she doesn’t answer the phone right away. I said you do the same thing to me if I don’t answer. That it’s. No big deal.”
Nico paced around the room, persistently hammering her with questions. “So, what else, Luna? What else did she say? That’s not all, is it? I know you! You’re a busybody, always inserting yourself in my life, causing trouble.”
She was shaken, and tried to steady herself before responding. “She stopped by my office a couple of times when she was upset. She told me you frightened her by driving recklessly on the way home from your dad’s at Christmas. Nico, I worry so much about you. That was crazy. You both could’ve been killed!”
He fumed and yelled, the veins on his brow protruding. “Luna, I’m warning you. You should have told me she wrote to you and came to see you. This is a betrayal of our friendship! You’re my friend, and you had no right to talk to my girlfriend about me behind my back!”
Luna tensed, feeling the panic rising. He was out of control, and she’d already said too much. Trying to recover, she explained, “Nico, the only reason she told me these things is because she met you through me, and I work on the show with her.”
The Sleeping Serpent: A woman's struggle to break an obsessive bond with her yoga master Page 24
