All her life, she knew how to stir up drama and take care of herself while using and abusing other people.
Everything she’d instilled in me came with perfect examples of her ruining other people’s lives.
A silent sigh leaves my chest as I break away from recollecting things I don’t enjoy.
The condensation grows on the glass beneath my fingers while my eyes hover over the trees guarding this side of the house.
The sea and the sky make love in the distance, a quiet prelude to the dusk floating over the shoreline, decked out in bejeweled tones of blue, pink, violet, and orange.
There, at the end ofmyworld, a night dipped in variegated shades of sin wraps around a different universe that exults in crowded restaurants, open-air cafes, noble churches, and preserved ruins drenched in history.
Life happens at a brisk yet quiet pace with fashionable dresses, and men eagerly looping their arms around the women’s bodies, smiling to distract them and conceal the hunger of their flesh.
There, at the end of my world, freedom swirls at a dizzying pace, beaming with promises.
I could be there, dancing alluringly and sultrily kissing the men, with my back pressed to the warm stone of a church, cheating on everything and everyone on this earth.
Allowing the men to feel me up, run their hands up my skirt, touch me, and offer me the relief I want from him.
I’ve looked for him in random men so many times that I’m now sick of it. The disappointment and lying to myself have been too much to take lately.
No matter how hard they get, how famished they are, and how deft they are with their hands… No matter what they say, how they touch a woman’s body, or if they give them pleasure or not… Nothing compares to him.
So even if I want sex and find some relief, bitterness and deep frustrations still gnaw at my psyche.
I could have all that. The big romantic gestures, the flowers, the words… Oh, the words.
And then their kisses, their skin against mine, sticky with sweat, their hands kneading my breasts, parting my folds, teasing my point of pleasure to exhaustion.
They could mistreat my body in the most delicious ways, yet in the end, they wouldn’t be him.
I wouldn’t have him on top of me, with his eyes gleaming, unfocused, cloudy with pleasure.
With his lips flashing spellbinding smiles.
On the other hand, the men I’d use to get my rocks off––as Bianca had done so well her entire life–– would lose their minds over me, and I might get them killed, when all I want is him.
I will have him.
Even if I pay for it with my freedom or my life.
4
LEILANI
I’mas certain of accomplishing this––having him–– as I’m sure that a hundred lemon trees are scattered around the property.
The estate thathe thoughtwould be the best place for me to recollect my thoughts.
After having that unexpected conversation with him that sent me into a tailspin two years ago after my mother’s funeral, he dared to argue in his riveting husky voice that I needed this house all for myself so I could grieve over Bianca’s passing and think about my future.
Coward.
There is no future without him.
I push up on an elbow, pick up my glass of lemonade, and bring it to my lips, my eyes glued to the horizon.
A sip travels down my throat.
