The Feria (9 page)

She realized what she was doing as she jumped against him. He caught her, pressing her to the smooth wall of a large boulder behind them. She could feel what was inside of his pants. The sun was almost gone now and her inhibitions with it. She couldn’t explain what her body was doing, so she wasn’t even going to try to understand what his was doing, but she knew it was all in preparation for what was coming, the complete and ultimate fullness of love. It was exploding in heaps between them. He began massaging himself against her, digging in. She somehow knew exactly what she was supposed to do and returned in kind. They were in rhythm together, like they were dancing to the same beat. She could hear that beat flooding her ears. It felt so good, and she didn’t feel the least bit guilty or cautious. The skirt she wore made their contact all the more forceful, real, as her center throbbed against him. A moan escaped her lips and she felt embarrassed but his kiss became harder, more urgent.

She would not allow it to stay at this level. It had to go further. “Please,” she whispered with hardly any air.

He froze. The grasp on her thighs loosened, and he carefully let her legs slip down but kept her pinned against the wall. He was breathing heavily. “I’m so sorry, my Cholita. My God, I’m so sorry.” He looked away, still breathing as though he had just finished running a mile.

The intensity was fading but only because he thought he’d upset her.

“
Please
. Make love to me.”

He turned to face her, the newness of the night now robbing her of his blue eyes, but she could feel the uncertainty in them.

“Please,” she repeated. It was the most she could get out. She was too excited to explain that she was certain of what they were doing, so she let her body speak. She did the only thing that came to her mind, placing his hands over her chest. This would be clear. She gave him the permission he longed for.

He cupped her breasts anxiously through the fabric of her blouse, then gently slid his hands down her sides and cradled her into his arms, carrying her into the fortress and leading her to the ground. His mouth never left hers as she felt him reach between their bodies to lift her summer skirt over her thighs and up onto her hips. He worked fiercely to keep his mouth on hers as his fingers slid into her underwear and gently pulled them down. Her shirt now lay open, the air fluttering over her exposed chest. He was so fixated on her, inhaling her scent, kissing her everywhere. He slowly went down the middle of her chest and wandered over her breasts. She gasped. This was the first time she’d exposed her newly matured body to anyone. He was invading her most intimate details, but she anxiously approved him to go on. She could feel his tongue slide over what she thought at that instant was the most sensitive part of her body. She felt her underwear inching down her legs. She hadn’t even noticed he had unfastened his pants. Suddenly, he found her. Their most intimate parts were touching. There was no going back. There was no room for doubt. To stop now, would kill them both. Like thunder, he slipped into her so easily, then she screamed.

His mouth was over hers, and her scream was forced back into her lungs. She was insanely in pain, but enticed with pleasure. What was this? She felt him tense but before he could remove himself, she wrapped her legs and arms around him, holding him in place.

“Are you sure?” he barely got out.

“Yes, yes,” she said. As he kept moving inside of her, she could feel the intense pain slowly removing itself, and what she began to feel was a forceful, surreal explosion of senses that caused her lower body to tremble and throb. He moved slowly, gently, then a little faster, then, he was sliding inside of her with such thrust, she dug her fingernails into his back and cried out freely, loudly.

“Soledad, I love you,” he whispered into her ear as he kissed her neck, and then he moaned. Her heart was racing. Slowly, ever so slowly, she was climaxing to the highest peak. She screamed out in her finish, reaching a high that was beyond real, a feeling that reinvigorated her entire body. Their wet bodies were one, then he thrust a couple more times and cried out. There in the fortress, they were very still, very quiet, but for their breathing. With every breath she felt him throbbing deep within her. It was over, but they remained together, he on top of her, barely supporting his weight using his hands. He was breathing so hard that as he moved inside of her, it still incited and fed the throbbing she felt where they were making love. It was beautiful.

She began to cry, even more so when he removed himself and rolled over to hold her. She wanted to stay one with him forever. She loved him with everything in her. This bitter sweetness would kill her, but she would hold onto this memory for the rest of her life. It was all she would have left to carry her through a life without him.

“Please don’t cry, Cholita, please.” Xavier’s voice cracked. She looked up to see him squeeze his eyes shut.

“I’m so sorry,” she said. “I saw my whole life with you.” She was gasping between sobs now. “My whole life.”

“I was there, too,” he whispered. He kissed her face again and again. “Shh, calm down,
mí amor
.”

They held each other for what seemed too short a time. Neither spoke. They needed to grieve together over the sacredness of what would be lost tomorrow.

It was Xavier who ushered in the closure. She felt herself die.

“I love you,” she said.

“Forever,” he said.

There was no wedding, no fancy, beautiful dress, no memorable gifts like golden lockets to signify a grand life event, no gifts such as household items. Laughter and celebration, absent. That would not happen tonight. It would be just as Soledad requested, just a ceremony, simple and short. It was another small detail that she could maintain control over. A condition. Weddings were for celebrating. This was her funeral.

A priest came to her parents’ home and as he blessed the couple, she bit her lip, trying to stop the tears she knew were coming. The abrupt handshakes that were going around reminded her that this was just business, and this business was immediately finalized between Emmanuel and her father. Emmanuel looked at his bride, or rather his prize, with longing eyes. She was whisked away in a car. She never packed, but her mother did that for her. A second car carried all her earthly possessions but they didn’t mean much. They were from her childhood, a happier time. They were memories of her sanctuary in her home. They would serve no purpose following her into an empty home. The heaviness in her heart was more than she could bear as she turned for one last look at her home on San Diego. In a natural reaction, she lifted her hand to wave goodbye to her parents, but stayed herself with the memory of what they’d done to her. They were the reason she sat in this car. And while she raked over the bitterness this thought conjured, she was glad for one last glimpse of the house. Her childhood memories came flooding in to outdo the hate for the two who stood on her treasured porch. She’d store these memories in her mind for the lonely, dark days to come.

They drove for what seemed an eternity. Even as the twilight filled in for the descending sun, the uncountable trees, horses, and fields of so many different crops were overwhelming. Finally, they turned off onto a dirt road.

Emmanuel glanced at her and spoke for the first time since they’d left her home. He’d been too busy watching her reaction to the newness of the scenery. “This is the West Side, and that, my dear, that’s our home sitting at the end of the road.”

Our home.
That would never be. She silently looked ahead, muffling her surprise as she took note of the large plantation-style mansion that appeared to be sitting on top of a hill. It was big enough to house several families.

Emmanuel looked at her again, seemingly eager to see if she were pleased. As they pulled into a large covered driveway and exited the car, the house came alive to her with the greenest grass she had ever seen, horses, even servants waiting outside for their arrival. Even the smell out here was different, what with the obvious freshly cut grass, pine and even traces of honeysuckle, all brought together with a faint smell of horse manure.

“You have a beautiful home,” she said, allowing no emotion into her voice.

“It’s our home, Soledad,” he said, encouragingly. “You can do anything you wish to it.”

“Thank you.” She darted a glance at him. A smile lit his face. Maybe he wasn’t as horrid as she’d imagined. In fact, his mannerisms appeared so pleasant that she briefly felt a twinge of remorse for the diabolic person she had pegged him for on the night they’d met at the
feria
.

Suddenly she felt depressed. That first night at the
feria
had held two significant meetings, and both had impacted her live in vastly different ways. She cursed the
feria
. It would never hold the same meaning for her ever again. Her love affair with it was over. It had entrapped her. It had allowed her to meet the love of her life, only so that he could be torn away from her. But this marriage was only temporary, she reminded herself again.

The five-bedroom, eight-bathroom villa was seven thousand square feet, and it was like nothing she had ever seen before. What was almost the size of an entire second home made up an enclosed patio with a fireplace. Off to the left was a gourmet kitchen with the neighboring maids’ quarters and a study. A breakfast area sat by a large window with a view of a magnificent black-bottom swimming pool that graced the backyard.

“Black-bottom pools draw in the sun to keep the water warm,” Emmanuel’s cheerful voice interrupted her. Then he was silent. “There is one more room I’d like to show you.” Emmanuel paused as if he didn’t want to scare her. “It’s ours.”

Soledad knew this was coming. It had to be this way. She reluctantly put one foot forward to initiate what needed to be gotten over with. She had vowed to no longer be a victim, to no longer be told what was going to happen to her and when.

With a surprised expression, Emmanuel reached his hand out. Without hesitation or trepidation, she boldly accepted it.

A long hallway split into two, and yet another long corridor led to their bedroom, the last of the four rooms in that wing. The other four were down the opposite hall.

At last the moment had come.

When she walked in, she couldn’t help but gasp in surprise. Not because this beautiful room was hers, but because it was, in fact, beautiful and overwhelming. The warm yellow walls and white sheer curtains gave the sense that every ounce of sunlight was directed into this room. The neutral carpet only added to the brightness. The oak-wood bed was a crafted piece of perfection with a crème bedding set. On what was obviously her side, stood a healthy walk-in closet filled with dresses and outfits for all occasions. Its dimensions made a department store dressing room look small. A cherry-wood vanity entertained every possible beauty product on the market.

Emmanuel sat at the foot of the bed like a spectator. “I had it redone. I hope I predicted your taste?”

She plastered a smile to her face. Her taste was a sectioned off area with a rope to hold a curtain, and a folding bed. That was her taste. “It’s quite lovely.”

She had nothing else to inspect, and the silence became deafening. Silence with Xavier had always been easy.

“Please, come sit down with me.”

She knew it was a ploy to get her to the bed. The inevitable had come, and she must oblige. But only because she chose to, she reminded herself. Would Emmanuel know she was no longer a virgin? Was there something she could do to pretend? Would he tell her father with great disappointment that the promised goods had been spoiled? Did she care? No.

Emmanuel took her hand and led her down beside him on to the bed. “See? I’m not so bad.”

She felt like he was a predator, trying to lure her in just close enough so that he could then suddenly turn on her. He pulled her closer to him, and they both sat awkwardly.

He leaned over and kissed her on the mouth, then cupped her head and thrust his tongue between her lips. She pulled back and went to wipe her mouth, but stopped herself in time.

Had he never kissed a woman before? He was so bad at it. Even with Xavier’s being her first kiss, they melted together immediately. Timing, desire, movement, it all flowed together with an ending like the Rio Grande releasing itself into the Gulf.

When Emmanuel kissed her a second time, she felt herself tense. She tried so hard to kiss him back, but even with her eyes closed, her senses did not register anything they were used to. They wanted the pleasantness that electrocuted them, not dingy aftershave and glasses that got in the way. A strand of Emmanuel’s greasy hair pressed against her forehead.

She pulled away again, fighting back tears of disgust, distrust, and malice, especially toward her father. What was he doing right now? Having dinner with her mother? Reading the evening newspaper? Did he even think about her at all? What she might be doing right now? How badly she must need him to rescue her? Her anger spiked, and once again she remembered she was
not
a victim. She forced herself back onto the bed and shoved her mouth onto Emmanuel’s. His excitement was undeniable as he reached around her and pulled her on top of him. Once again nausea bubbled in her stomach. He lay down and made her straddle him. Now his smile looked wicked, nasty to her. He was getting something he wanted very much, and he had attained it unjustly. His hands began on her legs, then traveled up her hips, waist, and she waited for their final destination. This was polar opposite of the beauty of last night. She wanted to block that out for fear of emotional pain, but she wanted to block this out all the more. No matter what she’d told herself, she was being victimized.

Emmanuel fondled her mercilessly, breathing roughly, practically snarling like a wild animal. His hands would never match the gentleness of Xavier’s, but she didn’t want that anyway. He flipped her over and began pulling on the buttons of her shirt. Without concern he popped every one. He had no way of knowing if she’d ever done this before. She was certain her father promised him a virgin. And instead of cautiously easing her into this supposed “first time,” he acted like a hungry beast. He put her hands on his pants, and she forced herself to undress him for the sake of getting this over with. Once they lay naked, he put himself on top of her. There it was, the moment of impact. She accepted it. Their rhythms did not dance, there was no pleasure in what was taking place, there was no fire. It was now her job. This is what she had been sold for. He moaned as he finished, and she never even tried. She simply waited until it was over, and took herself far, far away, to a place she knew would either save her or kill her, but she went there nonetheless, the
feria
and the first day she met Xavier.