 A gentle but persistent knocking rouses me from the sleep-induced stupor that I have fallen into. Opening my eyes, I roll over and glance at the clock... 11:13 PM. Looking around the room, my eyes settle on the dry, wilted petals of the once beautiful yellow roses atop the mantle. Groaning, I lay my head back against the pillow as the events of the last four hours flood through my mind like a tidal wave. The knocking continues, this time accompanied by Danny's whispering voice, "Michelle... may I come in?"
"Go away, Danny," I reply, staring at the gap between the door and the floor, watching as he shifts his feet as if considering whether he should stay or go.
Laying back against the pillow, I stretch my body against the soft comforter. When the knocking returns, I slam my fist into the mattress and exhale through gritted teeth. "Please, Michelle... we need to talk," he implores.
Squeezing my eyes shut tightly, I scream, "I don't have anything more to say to you." On the verge of fresh tears, I chastise myself for letting this man affect me so.
A cool burst of air filters through the room when the door slowly creaks open. Even though my heart races wildly, I refuse to turn and face him as he stands in the doorway of my room. "Well... then let me do all the talking, ok?" he begs, shutting the door softly behind him.
Sitting up, I swing my legs over the bed and grasp the covers on either side of me, balancing myself as I stare through the patio doors at the millions of stars in the sky. "Get out, Danny," I demand.
Taking several small steps closer, he sits on the opposite side of the bed and whispers, "I'm not leaving."
Bolting from the bed, I lunge for the patio door, barking, "Then I am." Stepping onto the deck, I feebly make my way in the dark to the patio swing on my left, feeling my pantyhose tear and snag against the wooden planks beneath my feet.
The exterior house lights come on, and I look at the brightly shining bulb overhead that illuminates the swing. My eyes drift back to the patio door and I see him standing there, his left hand on the light switch just inside the room. There is a softness behind his eyes that he generally reserves only for abuela and I look away, my nerves feeling like exposed live wires ready to snap. A deafening silence falls between us. The rain has stopped and the smell of wet grass clings to the night air. The only sounds I hear are the low-pitched croakings of tree frogs in the distance.
"Michelle, please... I didn't know," he insists, sighing heavily.
Shooting daggers in his direction, I bark, "And now you do. Congratulations." Seeing his stance soften under my stare, I can't help but wonder about the tongue lashing that he must have gotten from abuela earlier. But I don't relent, adding, "So you know the entire sob story from beginning to end? Don't tell me you've grown a heart all of a sudden."
He sits next to me, causing the swing's supports to creak as they tighten to accommodate his weight. I scoot as close to the edge of my side as I can get, hugging the arm of the swing and staring off at some nonspecific point in the darkness. "Why didn't you tell me, Michelle?" he whispers, touching my shoulder.
Shrugging off his touch, I turn to him with glistening eyes and ask, "What difference would it have made, Danny?"
Having no good response, he stumbles over his words, answering, "I just... I just wouldn't have..."
"Wouldn't have what, Danny?" I ask, not waiting for a reply. "You wouldn't have treated me like shit if you'd known?" I watch as he studies his clasped hands in his lap, letting me vent my anger. "Or maybe you mean that you wouldn't have treated me like some whore, always accusing me of fucking Bill here right under your nose. Is that what you mean, hmm?" I ask, grabbing his chin and forcing him to look me in the eyes. I want him to feel just an ounce of the hurt that he's inflicted on me.
I watch as his eyes close tightly, no longer able to look at me, and I know that my words are affecting him. "Bill is my best friend, Danny... nothing more," I explain, waiting for his eyes to open. When they do, I finish, "He helped me get through this nightmare. Without he and abuela, I don't know how I'd have made it this past week."
Dropping my hand from his face, I turn and face forward. Meekly, he whispers, "You should have told me. I could have helped you through it, if you'd come to me."
Sighing heavily, I drop my head into my hands and answer, "You and I don't exactly have the sort of relationship where I'd feel comfortable sharing something so personal with you, Danny. If you don't trust me enough to open up to me, you shouldn't expect me to expose my heart to you at the risk of it being broken in the process."
"I just still wish that you'd..." he insists.
Cutting him off, I say, "Well... you know what? There are a lot of things that I wish you'd done differently, too... ever since the day we met. But you can't change the past. Sometimes life deals you a shitty card and you've got to just pick yourself up and move on." Standing, I turn to him, hands on hips and say, "So maybe you're right, Danny." His eyes drift up to meet mine as I continue, "Maybe I should have told you the truth. Lord knows it would have saved us most of this heartache." His eyes fall from my face and he leans forward, resting his forearms on his knees. "But you know what, Danny?" I ask, waiting for his eyes to meet mine once again. "One thing remains the same. I didn't want your pity then, and I don't want it now."
Sighing, I walk to the door and with my back to him, say, "I'm tired of fighting you on this. I'm tired in my bones, and in my brain, and in my heart. I can't do it anymore." Walking in, I slam the door and turn off the outside light, leaving him sitting under the thick blanket of the night's
darkness.
Still fully dressed, I crawl underneath the covers and cry myself to sleep.
The sagging of the mattress beneath me wakes me and my eyes flutter open, adjusting to the light as they focus on a hazy figure right above them. Blinking several times, Danny's face comes into view as he leans over me, and I realize that he's sitting so close that our thighs are touching. Scared, I sit up and scoot back against the pillows, grabbing his arm to support me. I watch as he raises his other hand and begins to gently dab a wet washcloth underneath my left eye. I must look a wreck, I think. "What time is it?" I ask, unable to rip my eyes away from the delicate strokes his hands are making on my face long enough to look at the clock.
Folding the washcloth over once to expose a clean area, he moves to give equal treatment to the right eye before answering, "Almost four in the morning."
"What are you doing here?" I ask.
"Your stomach was growling in your sleep, so I heated up your dinner," he says, pointing to the tray of food on the desk in the corner of the room. Studying his face, I see that his eyes are weary and fatigue is evident in his slumped shoulders. My heart swells at the thought of him sitting in this room, watching me sleep for the past five hours. I didn't even hear him walk back into the room, let alone leave to warm my food.
Locating the four pins that are securing my hair in this style, he removes them. Closing my eyes, I press my face against his arm, feeling the muscles contract and relax as he runs his fingers through the strands and shakes the curls loose. The tiny hairs on his arm are like the softest silk as they caress my cheek. Holding my face in his hands, he smoothes my hair behind my ears with his thumbs, whispering, "Why don't you go change?"
Nodding my head, my eyes fly open and watch his full lips curl into a warm smile. "I picked out some things, if you don't mind?" he says, pointing to a neatly folded white t-shirt and a pair of plaid pajama bottoms on the nightstand.
I feel like I've stepped into the twilight zone. Danny's pampering has caught me completely off guard, and I grab the washcloth from his hand and throw the covers back, scooting out of the opposite side of the bed. Gathering up the pile of clothes in my arms and holding them against my chest, I stumble to the bathroom, mumbling, "It's fine. Thank you."
Once inside, I lean against the door for support, feeling the cool surface of the mirror pressing against the feverish skin of my back. Stepping towards the counter, I throw the washcloth into the sink and turn the hot water on, watching the thick black mascara slide off and swirl down the drain. Setting the pile of clothes down, I look at my reflection and survey the damage. "Yikes," I gasp as I untie the halter and shimmy out of the dress, letting it puddle on the floor.
My eyes are swollen and red and my hair is a frizzy mass of wild curls. First things first. Bending over, I slide the pantyhose down my thighs and calves, sitting down at my vanity to remove them from my feet. Examining the runs and tears I acquired from the patio deck, I ball them up and throw them in the wastebasket. Brushing my hair, I fasten it to the top of my head with a clip as I stand and walk to the sink. Turning the cold faucet on as well, I wait for the water to become lukewarm before lifting the washcloth to my face and finishing what Danny started, scrubbing away all traces of makeup. I pull the t-shirt over my head and step into the pajama bottoms, cinching the elastic waist with the two ties and making a neat little bow.
Taking a deep breath, I open the door and walk back into the room. Waiting for me to get comfortable under the covers again, Danny stands next to the bed, tray in hand. When I reclaim my spot, he places the tray over my legs and fills my wine glass from the very bottle that he snatched out of my hands earlier. Beside the plate, there is a small, clipped yellow rose bud. Where did he get that?, I wonder, looking at the week old flowers in my vases and then back down at the tiny, delicate bud. Smiling up at him weakly, I remove the lid from the plate and pick up my utensils as he walks to the chair near the fireplace and sits, facing away from me.
The delicious aroma rises up and fills my nostrils and I eat every bite of the generous helpings that Danny served onto the plate. Finishing up the last bit of wine, I move the tray to the opposite side of the bed and wipe my mouth, saying, "Thank you, Danny. That was wonderful." I watch as he lifts the tray from the bed and redeposits it on the desk, and with a full stomach, I scoot down in the bed and draw the covers up to my chin, closing my heavy eyelids.
"Dance with me?" he asks, and my eyes flutter open to find him standing over me, one hand outstretched and the other twirling the yellow rose between two fingers.
Abuela obviously left out none of the details when she talked to him, including my love of dancing. "What?" I ask, faking a yawn. "Danny... I'm tired."
"Please?" he begs, and then jutting out his lower lip, he finishes, "I'm no Fred Astaire, Michelle... but how can I deny such a beautiful woman the one thing that would bring her the most joy?"
Searching for a way out, I insist, "Danny... you don't have to do this... really."
Reaching for my hand under the covers, he pulls me reluctantly to my feet and leads me to the center of the room, saying, "Maybe I want to." Smiling, he draws me close and pushes the short stem of the rose behind my left ear, wrapping his arms around my waist as he whispers, "I promise not to step on your toes."
Giggling, my arms instinctively wrap around his neck and I press my face to his chest as we begin to sway to no particular beat. Breathing in his cologne, I memorize the tempo of the beating of his heart as it pounds against my cheek. Closing my eyes, I run my fingers through the hair at the nape of his neck. His fingers blaze a trail from the small of my back up over my shoulder blades and he pulls me away from him slightly.
Confused, I look up into his eyes and see passion, desire, concern, regret, and longing swirling in their depths. Totally hypnotized by the spell he's weaving, I feel my knees go weak and the familiar surge of heat begins in the pit of my stomach and spreads like wildfire down my center to my innermost core as I become wet with arousal. Licking my lips, I feel myself reeling backwards as his strong hands reach out and spread over my ass, steadying me and sending tiny waves of electricity from my thighs to the tips of my toes. Pressing his forehead against mine, our gazes lock as he asks, "Which one?" When my eyes follow his to my chest, I know what he's asking me.
Looking back into his eyes, I answer, "The left." Averting my eyes in embarrassment, I fix them on the ornate carvings of the fireplace mantle.
Cradling my chin in his hand, he forces me to keep eye contact with him, asking, "Is it still sore?" I shake my head 'no' before he lifts his from mine to place a delicate kiss upon my forehead. Then he tilts my head back and I watch his lips draw ever closer as he leaves a soft kiss upon my chin. Turning my face first one way and then the other, his lips brush kisses across each of my cheekbones. Returning his forehead to mine, his right hand leaves my backside and I watch as he gently cups my left breast in his hand. "I'm so sorry this happened to you, Michelle," he whispers into my ear.
The tenderness in his voice and touch is overwhelming, and I can no longer keep the floodgate of my emotions closed. I lay my cheek upon his shoulder for support and sob loudly, muffling my cries against his shirt as he massages me, his fingers fanning out lightly back and forth over my straining nipple. The contact between our bodies is erotic and healing all at once. It's been over six months since I've made love, but even then, I've never experienced the level of intimacy that I feel at this very moment.
I've missed feeling desirable and beautiful, and cherished and needed, and Danny Santos has made me feel all of those things and so much more. Reaching down, I place my own hand over his and whisper, "Thank you," before cradling his face in my hands and kissing the lips of the man that has haunted my dreams since we first met. My boldness catches him off guard as much as it does me and he is hesitant at first, but then quickly gives in to the moment, opening his mouth under mine as his hand leaves my breast to cradle my face. Sucking gently on his lips, I taste my tears on them before his warm tongue slips inside my mouth, caressing mine. He tastes like manna from heaven and I let him feed my tortured soul.
Sweeping me up in his arms, he carries me to the bed and lays me gently against the cool sheets, never breaking the kiss. He reaches for the edge of my shirt, slowly working it up my body, and I place my hand over his and back away slightly, shaking my head 'no'. He looks at me through a sensual haze, his cheeks flushed and his eyes fully dilated with passion. "No, Danny," I say, stroking his cheek.
Removing his hand from where it rests on the exposed skin of my belly, he looks me in the eyes and says, "I'm sorry, Michelle. I didn't mean to take advantage of..."
Silencing him, I rub the tip of my finger over his swollen, rosy lips and shake my head 'no' again, saying, "No, Danny... you didn't take advantage of anything. I didn't even know how hungry I was to be touched." Then smiling, I lean in and whisper against his lips, "I want this... I do. But, not like this."
With his chin in his hand, he props his elbow on my pillow and stares down into my eyes, asking, "Not like what? Not like me?"
I lift his free hand and kiss the palm before draping it over my waist so that I can snuggle closely against his body. "No, Danny... it's you that I want. Please believe that. I've been attracted to you since I first saw you and I've even dreamed of making love to you."
"You have?" he asks seductively, tracing a finger down the length of my arm, lifting my hand and wrapping it around his neck.
Recalling a fantasy, I breathe into his ear, "Mmm... vividly. Especially since that day in your bedroom."
Laughing softly, he says, "Pity how Olga had to get the flu to set things into motion for us, huh?"
Nipping at the sensitive flesh of his neck, I ask, "Can I make a confession about that day?" Feeling him nod his head above mine, I finish, "It was the first time that I ever saw a circumcised penis."
He laughs hysterically, his body convulsing next to mine, and my eyes fly to the clock. I sit up slightly, cupping one hand behind his neck and the other over his mouth. Pressing his head down into the pillow, I order, "Danny... shh... shut up. It's a little after five. You're going to wake the entire house." When the devilish spark leaves his eyes and his breathing returns to normal, I ask, "If I take my hand off, will you be a good boy?" He shakes his head and I release my hold.
Keeping his end of the bargain, he only laughs slightly when he asks, "First one, huh? Well... what did you think?"
Stroking my chin as if in deep thought, I ask, "Honestly?" He shakes his head in reply and I add, "I thought is was spectacular." When a smug smile begins to quirk his lips, I lean into him and whisper in his ear, "It made me want to find out what you taste like."
I can feel his hot breath against my scalp as he whispers into my hair, "What stopped you?"
Propping my chin on my hands which lie across his chest, I answer, "Well... you and I were always getting into a fight and I was always storming off mad. Not exactly my idea of romantic."
"Foreplay," he says, wiggling his eyebrows one at the time. Smiling, I lay my cheek against his chest. After a brief silence he asks, "Michelle?" Lifting my head, I look into his eyes as he says, "I'll give you as much time as you need to make sure this is what you want."
Moved by his patience, I sigh as I try to explain, "This is what I need, Danny. More moments like this when I feel close to you... feel like you're allowing me inside your heart." Giving him a soft kiss on the lips, I continue, "The physical attraction between us is evident and undeniable, but I want to get to know you as the person you are. I could never make love to someone until I felt that emotional connection. My ex-fiancee and I dated for five months before we ever made love." Leaning over, I let my tongue dart inside his ear and I gently suck on the lobe before whispering, "Don't worry, Danny. I won't make you wait that long. I'd never last."
"Do you know when I knew that I had feelings for you beyond lust?" he asks, and I shake my head 'no', waiting for him to continue. "Whenever I saw you and abuela together for the first time." Smiling, I lean back against my pillow and look into his eyes as he talks. "You were so gentle and caring and patient with her. You were exactly what she needed... giving her everything that I couldn't."
I study his handsome face for several moments as he lays facing me before saying, "This is what I want, Danny. I want you to feel like you can share things with me that you can't share with anyone else."
Interlacing his fingers with mine, he whispers in my ear, "Come with me. I want to show you something."
I'd follow you to the ends of the earth, I think, scooting across the bed and following behind him as we step through the patio doors into the crisp night air. "Where are we going, Danny?" I ask, savoring the feel of the wet blades of grass under my feet and between my toes.
Looking back over his shoulder, he whispers, "Shh... it's a surprise."
He pushes through a gate that sits underneath a giant iron archway and when I step inside, the smell of citrus rises up to greet me. There are two short rows of some type of fruit-bearing tree that I don't recognize on either side of the entrance to the most exquisite garden I've ever seen. In the center of the garden, there is an enormous cement bird bath, filled to the brim after tonight's rain. Surrounding the bird bath, there are dozens of varieties and colors of rose bushes. Suddenly, I realize where the tiny, yellow bud on my dinner tray came from.
Pulling on his hand, I force him to turn towards me, and I stand on the tips of my toes to feast on the sweetness of his lips. The kiss is needy and desperate and it leaves me breathless. Bending down, I breathe deeply as I walk from bush to bush, memorizing the aroma of every different variety. Grabbing my hand back up into his, he insists, "Come on."
Following him to the far edge of the garden just beyond a clearing, I see a large gazebo come into view. Stepping inside, he sits in one of the large wicker chairs and motions for me to sit in his lap. Burying his nose into the crook of my neck, he whispers, "This was Pilar's favorite place." When he opened his mouth to speak, I was prepared to hear more seductive words or sexual innuendoes, but not this. I know that I should say something, but the words elude me. "Even when we were little, she'd drag me out here with her. This was her haven... her sanctuary."
Finally finding my voice, I say, "It's beautiful, Danny."
"And this was her favorite time of the day," he says, pointing towards the east. I watch as beautiful shades of gold and orange dance across the horizon. "She loved to watch the sunrise," he adds, and I suddenly recall all of the distinctive sunrises captured in the oil paintings on the walls of the third floor hallway.
Maintaining my composure even as I feel tears prick the backs of my eyes, I say, "Thank you for sharing this with me, Danny." We continue to cuddle, watching the sun make its ascent into the sky before I say, "We'd better get back. I need to get ready for this morning's therapy session."
As we walk back to my room holding hands, I can't help but think about how right it feels. Saying our good-byes on opposite sides of my door frame, he says, "I'm going to take the day off. You have four hours between the morning and afternoon therapy sessions, don't you?" I nod my head and he asks, "There's something that I need your help with. Spend them with me?"
"I'd love to," I answer sincerely, and a huge grin spreads across his face and lights his eyes.
Looking down at the floor, he says sheepishly, "You know, Michelle... after everything you've just been through, I'd understand if you wanted to take a few days off and go home for a while."
Wrapping my arms around him, I pull him tightly against me and whisper in his ear, "I already am home."
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