I feel like I've spent the past twelve hours drinking of the most potent elixir and have yet to come down from my high. Closing my eyes, I rinse the lather from my hair, letting my hands slide over my throat down the entire length of my body. Every muscle is sore underneath my fingertips, and as the shower head pulses scalding hot water at the back of my neck, I squint my eyes to watch the scent of our lovemaking slide from my body and swirl down the silver drain at my feet. Sunlight penetrates through the slightly frosted glass of the window inside the shower stall, and I raise my eyes to watch the leaves of a tree being blown by a gentle breeze as I turn the faucets off. Even though I am frightened, not knowing where Danny and I will go from here, I smile in spite of myself when the birds outside begin to sing a beautiful melody. A good omen... I hope.
Changing into a pair of shorts and a knit top, I neatly fold each article of clothing that I flung off in haste last night, and pile them gingerly inside my overnight bag. Draping Danny's jacket over it, I push it against the wall with my foot as I stand to dry my hair and apply a light covering of makeup. Stepping into the room, I find Danny in the same position as when I left him, clutching my pillow to his chest, his nose buried deep within its downy softness.
Tiptoeing to the bed, I sit on the edge of the mattress and study him silently as he sleeps. The curve of his tanned hip is only half covered by the mint green sheet slung over it, exposing a tiny dimple near the top of his right cheek. I have to fight the urge to press my lips to it, not wanting to wake him just yet. I let my eyes travel up his narrow waist and long torso, feasting on each sculpted muscle illuminated by the warm sun streaming in through the window.
No longer able to resist the urge to touch him, I lightly trace a fingertip over his strong, square jawbone and feather my fingers through the soft, sweaty hair at the nape of his neck. "Happy Birthday, sweetie," I whisper as he starts to stir. Abandoning the pillow, he turns to me with eyes still closed and wraps his arms around my hips.
I trace the outer edges of his rosy lips as he says, a soft smile curling the corners of his mouth, "Morning, baby." He kisses my fingertip and then turns his head slightly to press his lips to the skin of my bare thigh. "Mmm," he says, opening his eyes and looking up at me. "You smell like vanilla," he finishes, turning his face back to my thigh and letting his tongue slide out to taste me with each kiss that he presses to my skin.
Smiling down at him, I run my fingers across his bare back and say, "That's because I just took a shower."
His lips hover over my skin as my words sink in, and he lays his cheek against my thigh and looks up at me, saying with a tiny bit of disappointment in his voice, "Without me?"
"You haven't seen that shower, Danny," I begin, jerking my thumb through the air in the direction of the bathroom. "There's barely enough room for one person to turn around in there... let alone room enough for two," I explain, cradling his face in my hands as he scoots up to lay his head in my lap.
With a fake pout on his lips, he argues, "We could have figured something out, don't you think?" Turning his face into me, he lifts my shirt slightly and presses several warm kisses to my midriff before whispering against my skin, "You shouldn't underestimate my skills, Michelle. I'm very resourceful. I was a boy scout, you know?"
Laughing, I turn his face so that I can look into his eyes and say teasingly, "Were you now? Hmm... but I can think of a few other skills that you've mastered that I'm sure they don't teach in Boy Scouts." When a cocky grin spreads over his face, I bend down and press my own smiling lips to his and repeat against them, "Happy Birthday." Our faces mere inches apart, I ask, "So... how's it feel to be thirty?"
Tucking a dangling strand of loose hair behind my ear, he answers, "A million times better than it did to be twenty-nine."
"Really?" I ask, a look of confusion spreading over my face as I wait for him to explain.
Cradling my face in his hands, he strokes my cheeks with his thumbs and gazes deep into my eyes, and I feel our souls connect as he says, "Now I know what it feels like to make love to a woman that I love."
My heart sings. "I love you, too," I manage to utter before he draws me closer and claims my lips with his own, his tongue gently sweeping sweet caresses over mine. I want nothing more than to make love to him again... to reaffirm my love... and his roaming hands tell me that he wants the same thing. But my head wins out over my heart and I summon a great deal of willpower as I sit up, removing his hand from my breast and pressing light kisses to each fingertip before saying, "Why don't you go grab a shower, and I'll clean up in here?"
Looking at me through a sensual haze, he asks, "What's the rush?"
Cocking my head to the side, I say, "Danny... we can't stay here forever. We've got to get back sooner or later."
Grabbing my hand, he presses his lips to the inside of my wrist, and I can feel my pulse quicken when his hot breath hovers over my skin as he says, "I vote for later."
The desire he feels for me radiates off of his body, echoing my own, but I insist, "I'm serious, Danny. Don't you think abuela might want to see her grandson on his birthday?"
Reaching around me, he turns the clock on the nightstand towards us and says, "It's only a little after ten, Michelle. The party doesn't start for almost five hours."
A smug smile quirks the corners of his lips when he sees my jaw drop in shock. "You knew?" I very nearly scream, pushing at his shoulders. He nods his head, and I ask incredulously, "How?"
Shrugging his shoulders, he says, "I overheard Olga inviting Josefina and Guillermo." When he sees the look of disappointment in my eyes, he lays his head on the pillow and rubs my leg, saying, "Don't worry... I'll pretend to be surprised."
"You better," I scold, knowing how much work abuela and Olga put into assembling aunts, uncles, and cousins.
Sitting up, he grabs my pouting face and pulls me towards him for a tender kiss. "I will," he reassures. Running his fingers through my hair, he asks, "Did you save some hot water for me?"
Nodding, I point in the direction of the bathroom and say, "Your clothes are in my overnight bag on the floor in there." He stares at the bathroom door and then back at me, confusion flashing behind his eyes. "I didn't think you'd want to go home in a wrinkled tux," I explain, feeling my cheeks stain with color.
Stifling a laugh, he asks, "You packed some clothes for me, Michelle? How long have you been planning this?" Sensing my embarrassment, he goads, "Well... you're nothing if not prepared. Surely you were a girl scout?"
Shaking my head 'no', I retort, "Campfire girl."
Smiling, he says, "Oh, I see." Throwing the covers off of his body, he walks unashamed in his nudity around the foot of the bed towards the bathroom. With his hand on the knob, he turns and says over his shoulder honestly, "I'm glad you planned this, Michelle. Last night was perfect."
Relieved that he feels the same way that I do, I release a shaky breath and say, "I thought so too."
Returning my broad smile, he says, "I won't be long," before disappearing behind the door. I sit glued to my seat, my eyes skating around the room. Shaking the nagging voice of doubt from my head, I rise and pull the sheets from the bed, piling them on the floor and retrieving a fresh set from the closet. As I remake the bed, my hand lingers over the still warm spot where Danny slept just minutes before, and I can't help the smile that crosses my face. Picking up the articles of our clothing that lay strewn over the floor, I neatly fold and pile everything on the dining room table.
Grabbing the neck of the chilled bottle of champagne from the refrigerator, I open cabinet doors both high and low, looking for glasses. Finding only a handful of coffee mugs, I quickly snatch two from the cabinet, turning to look at the bathroom door when I hear the shower cut off. I gather the candles in the room in my arms and deposit them on a closet shelf, making room for the bottle and mugs on the nightstand. The strawberries from last night have fully ripened under the punishing rays of sunlight streaming in through the window, the skins are dimpled and juice seeps out from under each stem. I close my eyes as a warmth spreads through my body and my toes curl against the hardwood floor, remembering the sensation of the juice trickling over my nipple and the pressure of Danny's lips as they closed over it to taste my flavor mixed with the strawberry's.
The bathroom door swings open, ripping me from my reverie, and I turn to look at him, a blanket of steam silhouetting his body as he walks towards me. The black t-shirt is stretched taut over his broad shoulders and the tight blue jeans accentuate the bulge of his crotch perfectly. Surely he is one of God's finest masterpieces. "Hi," I say as he wraps me in his arms and buries his face in the crook of my neck. "I missed you. Are you hungry?" I ask, swallowing hard as he bares my shoulder to suck at my feverish skin. Not making love to Danny Santos is going to be an exercise in self-control, I'm learning.
Between smacking kisses, he asks against my skin, "What... are... you... offering?"
Pushing at his shoulders, I step back slightly and point to the nightstand, answering, "Breakfast, Danny."
Lifting the bottle of champagne, he begins to remove the foil wrapper from the cork as he walks to the opposite side of the bed, saying, "Mmm... the breakfast of champions." Smiling, I plop down on the bed and lean against my pillow, turning on my side as he climbs into bed next to me. I close my eyes and turn my head when the cork flies across the room and ricochets off the far wall. "Wimp," he mumbles under his breath as I hand him a mug that reads, 'Life's a Beach'. When it's full, I set it aside and hand him the other mug, and he turns it towards him as he pours and reads, "Number One Dad. Hmm... guess in all your planning, you forgot to pack the champagne flutes, huh?"
Sticking my tongue out at him, I say, "Not very romantic, I know." He rolls to his side to face me, smiling as he sips from his mug, and I put the pint of berries on the bed between us, popping one into my mouth as I finish, "But hey... at least it's got some sentimental value. I bought that with my allowance for Father's Day when I was ten."
Wiping the trail of juice that escapes my lips and trickles down my chin, he sucks on his finger and chooses a berry for himself before locking his eyes with mine and saying, "Tell me about your dad. Were the two of you close?"
"I guess so," I say, shrugging my shoulders. "Until I became a teenager."
Wrinkling his brow, he asks, "What happened?"
Taking a slow sip of champagne, I answer, "We grew apart after mom died. I blamed him for the car accident."
Swallowing hard, he looks at me with compassion in his eyes and asks, "Your mom died in a car accident?" I nod my head, knowing that he is thinking of Pilar, and he continues, "And your dad was driving?"
Lifting my head from the pillow, I prop my cheek against my hand, pressing my elbow into the mattress, and I reach out to stroke his cheek as I shake my head 'no', saying, "No, Danny... she was driving." Seeing the look of confusion clouding his eyes, I continue, "She had just found out that he had had another affair and she took off in her car upset. She died instantly." He averts his eyes, fingering the stem of a strawberry, and I lift his chin so that I can look into his eyes, and I vocalize what he's thinking, finishing, "Just like Pilar."
Rubbing my arm, he lets his hand settle over mine and curl around my fingers before looking into my eyes and asking, "What was it like growing up without your mom?"
I speak openly and freely, from my heart to his, knowing that he understands what it's like to suffer the loss of both parents. "I had no time to prepare. She wasn't battling some long-term illness... she wasn't even sick. One day she was smiling and laughing, and the next she was gone. I realized that she would never see me graduate... never see me marry... never see me start a family of my own, and I was angry... so very angry at her for leaving me when I needed her the most."
His grip on my hand tightens when my voice begins to crack, and I blink through my tears as I ask, "It was the same for you when you lost your parents, wasn't it?" Nodding, he smiles bravely as he swallows around a lump in his throat. "Less than a year after she died, I got my first period," I continue, unashamed to expose my vulnerable heart to him. "Luckily... one of mom's good friends stepped in and was kind of like my surrogate mom."
Laughing softly, he says, "Pilar had abuela for that, thank God. She came to me with everything else, but when she got her first period, she swore abuela to secrecy."
My heart aches for this man whose smiling face belies the pain I see behind his eyes... a lifetime's worth of pain. Cradling his chin in my hand, I ask, "Who did you have, Danny? When your father and grandfather died... what man did you have to turn to for guidance?"
Shrugging his shoulders, his lip quivers slightly as he answers, "Uncles... cousins. I don't know."
"Hey," I say, waiting for his eyes to connect with mine before I continue. "I think abuela raised a fine man." He's embarrassed by the compliment. Lightening the mood, I add, "Your jealousy and your temper leave a lot to be desired, but other than that, you're pretty incredible." A gentle smile spreads across his face, and I lean into him, feathering light kisses from one corner of his upturned lips to the other.
Laying my cheek against the soft fabric of the pillowcase, I ask after a brief moment of silence, "So... you've never been in love?"
"You mean before now?" he asks, bringing my fingers up to his lips, and I nod my head as I bite into another berry. "Honestly... no, I haven't. I always wanted to have the kind of love that I remember my parents having. You know what I mean?" he asks, and I wrinkle my brow, waiting for him to explain. "You know that all-consuming love that you think only exists in the movies or in one of those books that Pilar always kept her nose in? The kind of love that hits you over the head and knocks the breath out of you. The kind of love where you share every bit of yourself with the other person, not holding anything back." I nod my head in understanding, and he continues, "My parents had that, and I knew that I'd never be happy unless I found it for myself. I had almost resigned myself to believe that I wasn't going to get that lucky, and then one day you
were in my courtyard... and I felt something pass between us when I first saw you."
"Anger," I laugh, remembering our less than romantic meeting.
Tilting my chin up, he presses his lips to mine and whispers against them, "Electricity." Backing away from me, he folds his arms across his chest, and I watch the sunlight sparkling in the depths of his eyes as he says, "Don't tell me that you didn't feel it."
"I felt it then... and I feel it now," I murmur seductively, licking my hot, dry lips, and laughing inwardly when I see his eyes fixate on my darting tongue. Tracing the back of my finger along the hollow of his throat, I purr, "In every touch." Lifting his hand to my face, I press my moistened lips to the inside of his palm, letting my breath skate across his skin as I add, "In every kiss." I lean in towards him and press my forehead against his, looking deep into his eyes as I finish, "And in every glance... I feel it."
When he opens his mouth to speak, I expect him to tell me that he wants to make love to me, and I know that I will be unable to resist him this time, the longing I feel for him growing to insurmountable proportions. But he surprises me, asking instead, "What about you? You've been in love before. You were engaged, right?"
Choosing my words carefully, I say aloud for the first time, things that I haven't even had the courage to admit to myself yet. "I thought that I loved Jesse very much. It broke my heart when he left. We had been slowly growing apart for a long time, but I was in denial. We quit making love three months before he left, but even that didn't make me want to give up. But... hindsight is twenty-twenty, and looking back on that relationship now, I realize that I was in love with the idea of love."
Sitting up and turning towards me, he asks with a measured amount of concern in his voice, "And how can you tell that things are different with me?"
I sit up and face him, putting the strawberries and mugs on the nightstand before interlacing the fingers of both of our hands and answering, "Because... what I felt for Jesse then doesn't hold a candle to what I feel for you now."
Releasing my hands, he wraps his arms around my waist and pulls me against him, and I wrap my arms around his shoulders as his mouth descends on mine. I part my lips, and when our tongues touch ever so lightly, I feel the electricity that we talked about just moments before beginning a slow course through my body.
Letting my hands slip from his shoulders to his cheeks, I turn his face to the side and trail my lips over his jawbone, pressing one final kiss to his ear before whispering, "I've got some surprises for you."
Dropping his lips to the upper swell of my breasts, he answers, "You are one mysterious woman, Michelle. I can't wait to find out all of your secrets."
Lifting his face up to mine, I see the devilish twinkle in his eyes, and say, "Birthday gifts."
Raining sloppy, wet kisses all over my face, he pauses only long enough to say, "Bringing me here was gift enough... not to mention the gifts you gave me in this bed and in the creek last night."
I feel my cheeks begin to flush as a nearly unbearable heat passes between us, and I pull back and say, "Don't move."
He gives me a mock salute, and I grab the footboard for leverage as I pull myself to my feet and walk on shaky legs to the closet. Sliding the gift across the floor, I watch as he swings his legs over the side of the mattress, resting his elbows on his knees, and I can tell by the perplexed look on his face that he's trying to guess what it is. "Happy Birthday," I say, waiting for his hands to replace mine on the two top corners of the present when I stop in front of his feet.
Stepping back, I watch with great amusement as he digs his fingertips into the festive paper and sends scraps flying like an eager child, revealing the gift underneath. He studies my face intently and then hoists the painting up off of the floor, propping it on his knees to look closely at the image. I sit next to him, wrapping my arm around his shoulders as I watch his fingers curl and uncurl around the antique frame. "I love it," he says sincerely, turning his face to mine to lightly kiss my cheek.
Reaching out with my free hand, I trace the tip of my finger over the images in the oil painting. Two brunette children - a boy and girl - are sitting in a field of wildflowers, their arms wrapped around each other's shoulders. Staring off into the distance, their eyes are fixed on the beautiful rising sun in the sky. "I thought you should keep a remembrance of Pilar, too," I explain. When he buries his face into the crook of my neck, I whisper, "When you look at this, I want you to remember how the two of you used to sneak off to that gazebo in the garden to watch the sunrise."
Sensing that he is too moved to speak, I press my lips to his cheek and ease the painting off of his lap. With a hand on his thigh, I reach for my purse on the nightstand and bring it to my lap. "Speaking of Pilar," I begin meekly, unzipping the zipper as his eyes fall to watch my hands dig through the contents. Withdrawing the small, wrapped box, I place it in my upturned palm and extend it to him sheepishly. "I found this when we packed her things the other day."
He swallows hard and looks deeply into my eyes before he lifts the box with a trembling hand, studying every inch of it. Placing it on his thigh, he removes the card that I've already read and reads aloud, "Happy 30th Birthday, Big Brother." Delicately and slowly, he removes the bow and paper, lifting the white lid on the box and folding back the tissue paper. Peering over his shoulder, I see that there is some sort of gold trinket inside. There is a heart etched into the very center and inside the heart there is a tiny, sparkling emerald. When he presses the clasp, the lid flies open and I see the hands of a needle pointing due north. A compass.
He looks into my eyes and we share a brief look of confusion before I notice a note tucked inside the bottom half of the box, and I point it out to him. Handing the compass to me, he digs the paper out of the box and opens it up against his thigh. Not wanting to invade his privacy, I close the compass and study the ornate detailing of the heart that surrounds the precious gem while he reads. I can feel his eyes on me and I turn to look at him, my heart breaking when I see the tears streaming down his cheeks. Rubbing his back, I ask, "What, Danny?" I can hear the pain in my own voice echoing the pain that I see behind his eyes, and my heart feels like it's splintering in two.
Handing the paper to me, he puts his face in his hands, leaning over to rest his elbows on his knees. With one hand still massaging calming circles across his back, I open the note with the other and read to myself. 'Danny... You have been my big brother, my protector, and my best friend. Thank you for always knowing when to guide me and when to let me find my own way. One day I will leave to start a family of my own, but I will never forget where I came from, and I will always know how to find my way back home. Remember that when you look at this compass. Emeralds are my birthstone... did you know that? I asked the jeweler to place an emerald inside the heart on the lid of this compass, because I want you to look at it and remember that even when we are separated, I will always be with you in your heart. I love you, mi hermano... Pilar.'
Tears spring to my eyes as I pull Danny into a loving embrace and let him sob against my shoulder, crying the tears of someone who has just found closure.
 |
|
|