Page 90 of Strum Me

A black Mercedes waits and she doesn’t speak when I help her into the car and close the door behind her. I slide into the driver’s seat and lean over to kiss her. It’s a soft, gentle kiss. But it says everything she needs to know.

I’m hers.

“You ready?”

“Where are we going?”

“Somewhere special.”

The drive is about an hour and we don’t say a word. She sits, staring outward, her right hand in her lap, her left hand entwined with mine, resting against her thigh.

I can feel her skin through the thin fabric. And in the silence, I remember the last time I ran my finger along the length of that leg, fingertips dipping in the curve, digging into its suppleness.

Most of the drive is watching the car’s headlights illuminate a track barely a few feet ahead. We watch the road turn from city asphalt to country road. There are small mounds of melted snow along the sides, but mostly it is just dark.

She doesn’t ask me again where we are going, and I don’t tell her.

There’ve been too any words between us. Words leading to misunderstandings, miscommunications, hurt feelings. It’s better for now we leave them behind, I think.

We near the destination and the road begins to wind.

Even inside the car, the air seems different. Colder, yes, but fresher. There’s a trail of something that’s been draped in a vibrant seaweed, salty but not fishy. Like the first ever breath of life.

The car climbs higher and the steepness of the road pushes her back against her seat. Her head falls back and the moonlight, brightened by the fresh air somehow, bathes her skin with a luminescence that is so radiant I wish I could photograph it.

Winding, winding, winding.

The road becomes narrower as we climb. There’s nothing on either side. No trees to catch the car’s headlights, nothing to reflect the artificial light back on us, to give her a clue where we are.

And then out of nowhere, a gate. Just up ahead. I slow the car and drive up close. Press a button.

She doesn’t move, still watching straight ahead.

There’s a creak and metallic click. The gate opens and swings toward us. I wait for it to open completely before I drive up the cobblestone driveway, glancing in the rearview mirror, watching the gate close behind me.

There are trees now. Wild, unkempt, unkept trees. Branches swaying in the wind, rooted to the ground by their trunks, stopping them from fleeing to an adventure in the ferocious breeze. I park the car underneath one, its branches bare, reaching out into the night. With a turn of the switch, the car lights die, bathing us in a benevolent black.

We sit in silence again. This time little our eyes adjust to the dark. Slowly, the view forms in front of us. A short gray pebbled walkway leading up to a small cottage peeking out from behind the trees.

Pushing against the car door with my arm, I let myself out then jog to her side. I wait until she turns to smile at me through the window, then I pull her door open, helping her out. The wind whips her jacket open and she grabs the side and holds it tight around her body.

“Come.” I lead her, pressing gently on her back up the path. A soft light comes on as we near the front door.

I dig around in the orange terracotta pot next to the welcome mat and pull out a key. I slide it into the lock and turn it, pushing gently on the door and letting it swing open. The entire cottage lays open in front of us. No doors or walls, just furniture blocking the floor into different spaces.

A living area with two couches and a white sheepskin rug on the floor face the fireplace. A dining room table with eight chairs is set up in front of a large open kitchen. A four-poster bed is laid up against the far wall, facing a window that runs from ceiling to floor. Everything luxurious. Everything promising decadence, but function.

There’s a soft light inside and the fireplace is crackling, warming the cottage, and I know that my instructions have been followed.

“Where are we?” she finally asks.

“We’re…home.”

“Home?”

“This is…this is the first place I bought when I realized we had more money than we could ever spend. And I try to come here whenever I need to be alone.”

“It’s beautiful. Did you..?”