In This Life (10 page)

I drifted off and was in and out of one dream after another.

“Blue? Blue, wake up. You’re having a dream. Wake up, baby. You’re safe here with me.” He shook me lightly until I opened up my eyes to look into his face.

And suddenly it became clear to me. I saw my mother in a different light. “She died happy, Gray. My mother died knowing real love. The night that I saw her with him. She never looked at my father that way.”

“Not very many people can say that they found that in their lifetime,” he said, lightly tracing the outline of my face with his thumbs.

“You’re still awake?” I asked in a croaky voice heavy with sleep.

“I don’t want to end the night without letting you know how much I’m going to miss you.”

“I’ll miss you too,” I whispered.

He cradled my face in his hands and kissed me.

I would always remember that kiss. It sealed my fate to him forever. With that kiss I released my heart and soul into his hands, and I knew that my life would never be the same. It was a promise kiss, a goodbye kiss, a kiss that signified the end but also the beginning.

When you lose your soul to a kiss… it’s irretrievable.

“Anna,” he said with his eyes closed, pressing himself to me so that there was not a bit of space between us. I felt his desire against me and it pleased me to know that he wanted me just as much. “Anna Dillon. My gift, my heart. I want you again, and again, and again.”

And that was when I broke my own heart.

“What happened between us can never be replicated,” I whispered. “That moment we just had. That’s what I want you to remember. If you forget anything else about our time together, don’t forget this.” He smiled weakly at me. His face was masked in disappointment but his eyes, they showed me relief. We had sealed our connection in the physical sense. There was no need to reaffirm anything else. “And Gray?”

“Yes, Blue,” he answered.

“What you said about fate. I really believe that we have the power to change it.”

I yielded to my exhaustion, wondering how I could recover from the events of that night. I lost my mother and I gave away my heart. And I was left with nothing to take home with me. Not one single thing.

I woke the next morning to find a wooden strand of beads wrapped around my hand, a beautiful rosary made by the children of the mission. Despite the crashing of the waves and the piercing screams of the hungry seagulls, that day was marked by the blaring silence all around me. My mother was dead, my heart was gone, and I was left all alone.

“
The streets of town were paved with stars;

It was such a romantic affair.

And as we kissed and said “goodnight”,

A nightingale sang in Berkeley Square.”

A Nightingale Sang in Berkeley Square

Manhattan Transfer

“WELCOME BACK, BABY,”
Dante gushed, sticking his head in the window of the driver’s seat as I unstrapped myself from the car. He greeted me excitedly with a kiss. Mikey was settled in the passenger seat, eyes closed, earphones in place, iPhone in hand.

“Hi.” I kissed him back, tired as heck but happy to be able to spend two days with him at our apartment in midtown Manhattan before having to head back to work at the hospital.

We’d just arrived from the long drive from New York City to Tully Hill, a trip that we made at least once every other month. The three hour drive to the rehab facility where my father stayed was an easy one, lovely and scenic during the early fall when the bold red and golden colors of the leaves blanketed the ground, and the cool crisp air was a welcome respite from the hot days of summer. But the hours that followed were difficult and discouraging. Michael needed to see him more than I did, and I was determined to be there for my little brother despite the toll that seeing my father took on me. Life had bombarded me with lessons, and I’d learned most of all that promises were made to be broken. I never heard from Jude again. By the time Dante arrived from Thailand one week after I left, the callback on the number that was saved to Dante’s phone had been shut off. I counted the months to the day he was supposed to be done with his trip to Australia. I waited for him to call, gave him the benefit of my trust, detached myself from the world around me, and stayed suspended in anticipation. I would have tried to find him, but I didn’t know where to look. Sure, I knew that he was from Westchester and all, but then I began to doubt the stories that he had told me. And then the months became years, and the years ran away with the hope I had held in my heart.

“How was your visit?” Dante asked as he pulled the handle on the car door. The parking garage looked empty. Not that it mattered because Dante held two prime spots right in front of the elevator.

“Same. Apologies, tears, Mikey having a hard time saying goodbye.”

He smiled weakly before walking towards the trunk of the car.

It had been five years since my mother had passed away. I arrived back in New York in time for her funeral. It was a quiet event attended by family and friends.

And her lover, of course. He reminded me of Delmar—blond with blue eyes, a slim build, very well put together. He looked much older than his years, aged since the last time I saw him at the restaurant. The man she claimed to have loved stood steadfast among the many faces of disgust and resentment, unwavering and committed. He watched as we cried and mourned, watched as we committed her to the dust, and then he disappeared forever.

Two years later, we lost everything. The house, the cars, the money that she made and set aside for Michael’s college education. My father sank into the depths of despair, found comfort in bottles of whiskey and gambled away the life we once lived. Our beautiful house in upstate New York, our cars, our things, all repossessed by banks and credit companies. I worked nights and weekends tending bar while putting myself through medical school and helping Michael survive high school. By then, Dante was well on his way to obtaining his post-graduate degree, set with a promising job as an investment banker in the city. Michael and I lived in a small apartment on campus, surviving on enough money to pay for school, buy books, and eat three sensible meals a day.

Dante was my lifeline. When I graduated from medical school, we celebrated by moving all four boxes that were left to my name into his grand apartment in Manhattan. Although I had loved him for ten years, I finally allowed myself to fall in love with him when I accepted the fact that Jude was never coming back.

In these five years, I had experienced two deaths. The death of my mother was clean cut, more defined. No matter what, there was no hope of ever seeing her again. The death of my feelings for Jude were more difficult and just as painful. Because through the agony of never gazing into those eyes again, there was hope and longing, and denial that it was really over. There was no hard stop or forced acceptance of loss like with my mother. My grief for Jude lingered and played with my head every day until I convinced myself that by now, he was probably living somewhere as a married man with a family of his own.

As a thriving second year surgical resident at the John Hopkins Medical Center, I’d been privileged enough to join the team at the Harriet Lane Pediatrics program. I wanted to play a part in a child’s future, but most of all, I wanted to honor the memory of my mother. She lived her life with passion. And I found passion of my own, for the ultimate genius of the human body and the way it worked.

For four years, while I mourned the loss of Jude, Dante dated many others and I reactivated my sex life. But in the end, what Dante and I had was time tested and real and I buried myself in his love. I suffocated myself in it, and I dared not come up for air, for when I did, I feared that the air I breathed would have nothing to do with the love that he gave me. That I’d find myself breathing, consuming the love of someone else. Someone I couldn’t have. Someone who didn’t love me. Best to invest in the one who loves you back.

A week before I sat for the final phase of my Medical Licensing Exam, swept up in the whirlwind of love and the prospect of our exciting future, Dante and I were married. In a simple ceremony in Los Cabos, in a century-old church in front of a century-old priest. We made it official when we returned to New York. I didn’t change my name professionally, nor did I share in the fruits of his financial success. All in the name of survival. Of proving to myself that I could manage through the pain. Secrets ruin lives and lies protect those secrets. I was the luckiest girl alive; I had everything I could ever want. Fate had replenished my empty cup, made up for my losses in the form of Dante. I could circle the globe a million times in search of true love, but I knew that I would always end up with him. I finally accepted my fate, and I married my best friend.

“Mikey, we’re home,” I said, gently nudging the arm that rested limply on the console. “Let’s gather up our stuff and go inside.”

Michael opened his eyes lazily and nodded as he began to collect his things. Empty candy wrappers and two bottles of Coke lay underneath his feet. Dante had already cleared the overnight bag from the trunk of the car. We followed him to the parking elevator and rode up in silence. The door swung open as he held the electronic nob to the keypad. My brother dropped his bag on the ground and ran in towards the kitchen.

Dante took my hand in his and led me down the long winding hallway of the apartment to the living room. The walls were lined with contemporary art from many of New York’s top galleries. Dante was a new art collector, partial to abstract works. His particular favorite was the landscape collection by Jean Metzinger. A beautiful burst of color depicted in contrasting shapes and sizes.

“One painting a year,” is what he would always plan for. So far, we’d accumulated four from that collection and about ten from other art dealers around the world.

I turned my head to address my brother, who was following right behind us. He looked so grown up, so tall and lanky, with bushy uncut hair and oversized basketball shorts. “Are you okay with being home alone tonight while Tey and I go on that double date we planned three weeks ago?”

He rolled his eyes at me. “Of course, Annie. You guys go ahead and have fun. I’m dying to get back online and do some gaming.”

I shook my head, smiled at Dante, and snaked my arm around his. “I guess we’re still on. We have a few hours to chill before we have to get ready for dinner.”

“THAT WAS SO
good, Sparky,” Dante whispered in my ear as I sat enclosed between his legs in the large Jacuzzi in the middle of the bathroom suite. Above us, dusk had settled, slowly dimming the natural glow that came in through the skylight. The scent of lilacs and lilies filled the air, emanating from the many candles all around us.

The soapy water had formed clusters of bubbles which gently touched our skin.
Like the sea foam that gathered on the beaches of Thailand.
I closed my eyes but only for a brief second. For the past five years, lingering in my thoughts proved to be a bad idea for me. Too many memories. Too many tears. Too many unanswered questions and unspoken words.