A Veil of Glass and Rain (13 page)

of blood in my ears muffles the sounds.

And the colors seem clouded.

Then my skin begins to tingle, and my

senses slowly awaken. The reason is walking

toward me.

I'm not the only one who notices Eagan's

approach. Eagan is vital. When he walks, his

feet don't merely touch the ground, but they

receive energy from it. I've seen the water

lapping lovingly at his muscles, and now I stare

at the sun stroking Eagan's skin with its light,

like a possessive lover.

Eagan doesn't just glance at the people

around him, he captures them with his greedy

gaze.

My best friend doesn't live life, he devours

it. As he reaches me, I stand on wobbly legs, I

whisper his name, then I fall down on my

knees. Immediately, Eagan kneels in front of

me and grabs my shoulders.

“Brina?” His voice is worried.

I try to smile, while I drink him in. His blue

eyes are dusky. The beard stubble shadowing

his face gives him an older and more dangerous

appearance.

I want to reach out and trail my fingers over

his soft lips.

He repeats my name. My eyes move away

from his face and settle on my hands, clasped

in my lap.

“I'm so sorry I wasn't there for you after

David died, please forgive me,” I manage to

utter.

Eagan squeezes my shoulders. “I forgive

you.”

“I disappeared. I avoided you because four

years ago something happened. I was in love

with you and I stole a kiss. It was after my

concert. You were sleeping. You looked so

lovely. I couldn't resist. I had to kiss you. But

afterward I was ashamed. We were friends and

I felt like I had betrayed our bond. I ran away

because I could not face you. I was a coward. I

know now.”

Eagan strokes his hands across my shoulders,

and along the column of my neck, then he cups

my face in his palms and tilts it upward to

meet his gentle gaze. The band-aid on his right

hand scratches my skin. As his forehead

touches mine, I close my eyes, for I'm afraid.

Eagan's thumbs caress my cheeks.

“Don't cry,” he says.

“I'm not.”

He chuckles. “Yes you are, kitty-cat.”

“I can't even feel my own tears. Damn it,

Eagan! I'm a mess without you, and I'm a mess

with you. I don't know what to do.” Then a

painful sob escapes from my throat, then

another and another.

Eagan pulls me to him and holds me tight

against his broad chest.

I wind my arms around his waist and I grab

at the back of his shirt with my cold fingers.

“Are you still in love with me?” His voice is

ragged.

I nod and exhale a broken sob, then I

desperately try to breathe the tears away. The

familiar scents of cinnamon and male sweat

invade my senses. They cause hurt and relief. I

welcome both feelings, because this could be

the last time I'm allowed to stay this close to

him.

Eagan's fingers slide into my hair and then

wrap around my nape. He pulls me slightly

away from him. I force my eyes to open and

finally I look at him. A small act of bravery.

What I see makes me tremble; Eagan's eyes

are moist and his lips are stretched into a

tender smile. A quick glance at his throat

shows me that his heart is beating wildly, just

like mine.

“What?” I whisper my question and press my

palms to his warm chest.

Eagan brushes a kiss across my temple.

“Please don't,” I tell him.

He pulls back a little to stare at my

expression.

“Why not?” There's a feeble tremor in his

voice.

“Because your kindness, right now, hurts

me.” My words are a rasping plea.

“Close your eyes. Pay attention. Trust me.”

The orders are given with kindness.

I hesitate.

“Say yes, Brina.” He insists.

I close my eyes.

Once again, he cradles my face in his hands.

His soft lips whisper across my eyelids, the

bridge of my nose, my cheekbones. When they

reach my jaw, they become more insistent,

then they part and the tip of Eagan's tongue

touches my skin.

I heave a sigh full of questions.

“Keep listening,” Eagan murmurs against my

skin.

I open my mouth, but I have no words.

Eagan nibbles at my upper lip, then at my

lower lip.

I whimper.

His tongue slips inside my parted lips and

strokes my tongue. It's a tentative touch at

first, but soon it becomes more urgent. Our

breathing grows more labored. Our hands

caress, search, clutch. Our bodies melt into

one another.

I link my arms around his neck, while Eagan

seizes my waist and lifts me, so that I straddle

his hips. As we devour each other, I grind into

his pelvis. The feeling is so good, a deep moan

explodes in my chest. Eagan responds with a

groan imbued with want. I move greedily

against his erection; this time he doesn't stop

me.

My senses awaken. All of a sudden, I smell

the humid grass beneath us; I hear the people

around us laughing and talking; I feel the brush

of the sun against my skin.

I press my body against Eagan's harder still,

for I realize that his heat is melting the icy

fingers underneath my skin.

When Eagan breaks our kiss, I utter a needy

sound. Eagan laughs softly. I gaze at his

handsome face and I see tears and bliss in his

eyes.

“Did you listen carefully?” He asks.

I nod. “You're in love with me.” Immense

elation pervades my words.

Eagan feathers kisses all over my face. My

skin hums. I want more, so I press into him. He

groans. This time, however, his arms arrest my

movements.

“Kiss me again,” I demand.

“We are in a very public place,” he murmurs

against my lips.

“Oh.”

We find a stone bench bathed with sunlight. I

sit on Eagan's lap and curl up against his chest.

His arms hold me close; a familiar cradle of

velvet and steel.

Eagan nuzzles my hair and draws me in.

“I have a story to tell you,” he says.

“I'm listening.”

“Four years ago, when you kissed me, I was

awake. Not opening my eyes. Letting you go.

Those were hardest things I've ever done. I felt

guilty. I enjoyed so much your kiss. You tasted

so good. I was aroused. I was confused. You

were my best friend. And you were

inappropriately young. But I wanted you. That's

why I let you walk away. That's why I didn't

pursue you. During the following years, I tried

to forget about your soft lips. About your hard

nipples pressed to my arms. About your sounds

of pleasure. It was impossible. The taste of the

other women felt all wrong. Then David died

and everything changed. But I kept thinking

about you. I knew I had to have you. But I had

to do it right. You weren't just a crush. You

were my love. I studied really hard. I wanted

to be the best in my class. After my graduation

some friends put me in contact with the

people I'm working for here, in Rome. Then I

searched for the perfect apartment to share

with you. Small, but comfortable. There was

an obstacle, though. I knew you were trying to

bury your feelings for me. So I had to rouse

them again. I know I've been torturing you,

playing with your desires. But I don't regret

doing it, because now you're mine.”

A jolt of spring wind surges and shrouds us.

It creates a warm cocoon filled with scents;

among them, a touch of cinnamon.

Eagan's soft words sound like a sweet

lullaby. I drink them in and let them satiate

my need.

I sit up and stroke his lovely features with

my fingertips. As he closes his eyes, I nibble at

his rough jaw, his chin, and then I tease his

lips with the tip of my tongue. Eagan heaves a

sigh full of bliss.

“I've always been yours, Eagan. I love you.”

“I love you too, Brina.”

I've missed those words so much, that upon

hearing them my heart leaps painfully. A wail

escapes my lips.

Eagan grips the back of my neck, his fingers

tangle in my inky strands. Then he kisses me

with fierce longing.

I curl my arms around his strong neck and I

let him heal me.

“You didn't take your car?” Eagan asks me, as I

grasp his hand and I lead him toward the

subway entrance.

“No.”

He squeezes my fingers and I smile up at

him. His expression makes my knees weak; it's

so full of gratitude and relief that I almost

promise him never to drive again.

“Will you tell me more about David?” I

demand.

“Yes. But not today.” He responds gravely.

The Roman public transportation is

extremely slow. However, today I don't mind,

for I sit on Eagan's lap during the entire

journey. In between tender kisses, I tell him

about Clémentine and the “resurrection

party”.

We stop briefly at his place, so that he can

pack an overnight bag. Then we catch two

more buses to get to my apartment. Finally,

we stop at Clém's favorite
Rosticceria
, which is

close to where we live, to buy her preferred

comfort food:
Supplì
,
arancini
and
filetti di

baccalà
.

“I'm sorry,” Eagan says, while we wait for

our turn to pay.

“For what?”

“The day we went to the park, I saw Marco

and Virginie.”

“Yes, you told me.”

“Well, they were all cozy, but I didn't think

much of it, because, you know-” He hesitates

and bows his head shyly.

I find the action quiet endearing.

“What?” I encourage him.

“Because I'm like that too. I'm open and

affectionate with everyone,” he concludes.

I wrap my arms around his waist and I bury

my face in his shirt. Images appear in my head

of Marco and Virginie dancing, and then

sharing an innocent kiss.

“It doesn't matter now, Eagan. I only want

Clém to be happy again.”

Eagan kisses the top of my head and holds

me for a few moments. Then, before I can

protest, he lets go of me and pays for our

food.

“I want to take care of you and your

friends,” he explains.

I close the door of Clém's bedroom to keep

outside the voices of Eagan and the twins, but

mostly the heavy smell of fried food.

The room is illuminated by the discreet light

of the bedside lamp.

Clémentine is not a tidy person; she's too

busy living life to worry about cleaning and

dusting. I don't mind, because I appreciate her

energy. She's always reading, watching movies,

or going to theater shows. And every morning

she runs. I both admire and envy her vivacity.

Now her space smells of tears and sleep.

The floor is a battlefield of books, clothes and

tissue papers. My active friend has been

sleeping all day long.

I open the window to let the spring night in;

I hope it will chase away some of the sadness

that lingers in the bedroom.

Clém stirs and sits up, propping her back up

against her pillow. I sit beside her on the

narrow bed and I gently stroke her long, blond

hair.

“Thanks for the party, but I'm not leaving

this bed,” she says, her voice small and rough.

“Can I fetch you something very unhealthy

to eat?”

She gives me a sad smile. “No, thanks.”

“What can I do, Clém?”

For a moment a mischievous spark appears

in her green eyes. She glances quickly at the

door. “Tell me about your American dude.”

“He loves me,” I blurt out. ”He came here

for me. He wants me to move in with him.

Well, he didn't ask me explicitly, but he

thought about us living together when he

chose his apartment. Anyway, I'll keep paying

my half of the rent until you find another

roommate, don't worry. I doubt Eagan will let

me pay for anything. He wants to take care of

me. It's very sweet, but still-”

Clém squeezes my hand, interrupting my

monologue.

“Are you happy, Brina?” She demands.

“Yes.” My heart springs in unison with my