14. Nico
14
NICO
I DON’T LIKE CHANGE, BUT MAYBE IF IT’S MARIE-SHAPED, I WILL
T he sense of excitement that follows Marie’s text can only be compared to when I’m about to be whipped from within an inch of my life by someone who knows how to dole out pain properly. My heart rate picks up, my five senses are on high alert, ready for this change in situation. Anticipation swims in my bloodstream stronger than any drug.
It’s been nine months since I first laid eyes on Marie Moretti and there hasn’t been a day since when I didn’t watch her through the cameras of her home, wishing I could observe her and her sadness from a closer angle. But she’s barely been outside in her garden since Lisa’s funeral and the distance that put between me and my newest obsession has been difficult to say the least.
I follow the dot of her private jet on my phone and see the moment she lands. I’m already waiting at the small landing base used for private flying an hour outside of West Hill.
The door on the flank of the jet opens and an airport worker slides stairs towards it. Then she appears.
Jet black hair that swooshes in the late summer air, big sunglasses hiding her face even though it’s only 7 am. The baby carrier strapped to her chest over a long black dress hides half of her body but it gives her an aura of authority. Like a goddess made flesh, she descends the steps. When both her feet are on solid ground, she lifts her head up and sees me, stopping short. I take it as a good sign to approach.
“Hello, Marie.”
“Hi, Nico.” She hesitates. “You didn’t have to come all the way here.” Her flustered tone makes me frown. Did she believe I’d send a chauffeur and not welcome her here?
“Of course, I did. I invited you here, Marie.”
I can’t stop saying her name. It tastes so luxurious in my mouth. No other name has ever had that effect on me. It’s both soothing and exhilarating.
The early morning sun catches on her sunglasses and behind the dark tint, a tear seems lodged at the corner of her eye. My jaw clenches. I don’t know much about why she chose to come here now but that reaction is enough to send me into a murderous rage. “Why are you crying?” I ask abruptly.
She wipes the lone tear and shrugs. “Dry air inside the aircraft, probably.”
A low growl rises from inside my chest. “I don’t like it when you lie to me, Marie.” Then, I turn and motion her to follow me to the car. I had to borrow Giulia’s Mini Cooper because there was no way I could have installed a baby seat into my Valhalla and I wasn’t about to drive Marie and Ember around without proper precautions.
Marie gasps behind me and I turn to watch her lift her sunglasses to reveal sunken eyes and ashen skin that slowly turns a pretty shade of pink on her high cheekbones. The urge to touch her and feel the heat under the pad of my fingers is so sudden, I have to close my eyes and take a breath.
“You got her a seat?” Marie asks barely above a whisper.
I nod and just stand there, waiting for her next move.
“Nico got you a seat, Bibi,” she coos as she caresses the baby’s head of thin dark hair. “She was asleep most of the flight so I’m a bit scared to wake her up and have her be all fussy and distraught.” Slowly, she unclasps the carrier at the shoulders and takes Ember into her arms. I don’t notice how my body gravitates closer to both of them, eager to be in their proximity.
I’ve never seen a baby so up close before.
I must have said that out loud because Marie’s smile is blinding as she looks up at me and asks if I want to hold Ember. I take a step back, a small shiver descending on my body and reminding me that we’re on the tarmac and we should get moving.
“Maybe later. I don’t want to drop her on the asphalt.”
I don’t miss how Marie pinches her lips together as though she’s straining not to laugh. It makes my throat dry and my heart clench strangely in my chest.
Once Ember is secured in her seat at the back, Marie rounds the car and sits next to me on the passenger seat. Her dark dress rides up below her ankles. I’ve seen so many women naked and writhing at the club, the small expanse of skin should not make me clench the steering wheel so hard. I don’t understand anything when it comes to her, but I want more of these feelings and weird sensations.
The ride to my place is silent. My eyes dart between the road, the woman next to me and my rearview mirror where piercing green eyes meet mine every time I look. Ember hasn’t moved or fallen back asleep. It seems she patiently waits for me to bring my gaze back to her. Seeing her safe and relaxed in the back seat of the car warms me up. But unlike the sweltering heat of summer or when I have nightmares about that fateful night, it’s glowing and enjoyable.
When I turn on the dirt road that leads to my house, Marie’s lips part open. Lush green trees surround the property and in the middle of all that green, the fields of Scottish bluebells bring pops of dark blue that expands as far as the eyes can see. They’ve been in bloom since May and will remain there until the first temperature drops at the beginning of Fall.
“Nico,” Marie says in awe in her husky voice. “This is so beautiful.”
I preen under her attention even if the comment is about the woodland.
I park the car in front of my house, an old farmhouse renovated with dark metal and wide glass walls everywhere. If there ever was a fire in my house, it wouldn’t burn down. Even the small terrace at the back, looking over the forest, has been doused in fire repellant.
As we get out of the car, Marie takes a few seconds standing and looking around in bewilderment before she walks to take Ember into her arms. “Is this where you live all year?” she asks.
“Yes. I like the quiet.” I point towards a path in between the trees. “Through this path is Andrea and Giulia’s house. It’s a good fifteen minutes by foot. By car, you’d have to come out the same way we came in and take the next left into another dirt road.”
Ember’s cries fill the space between us so suddenly I almost jump back.
“I need to get inside and feed her,” Marie says with a bashful tip of her lips.
I take the small suitcase from the boot, deciding not to mention that she packed light. She doesn’t need to know that I have every intention of having her here with me indefinitely. Until this very second, I wasn’t sure that’s what I wanted. But seeing Marie in my kitchen, with Ember in one arm and the other taking formula and a bottle from the innocuous tote bag she carried, ready to prepare what she needs for the baby, I want to see this tableau every day.
Jumping into action, I heat up some water in the kettle. As though we’ve done this before, Marie instructs me to pour formula into the bottle then half hot and half cold water before I mix it up.
“Thank you,” she says before letting a few drops land on her wrist. I file that tidbit of information for later and watch as she sits into my couch and feeds a wailing Ember. Marie’s body relaxes and her eyes become droopy. She’s at ease here. The room is silent save for Ember’s gulps.
“You need to sleep,” I tell Marie.
Her eyes are locked onto Ember’s face but her chin trembles slightly. I edge closer, ready to catch her if she falls.
“I know, but I can’t.” Her voice breaks. I want to jump to the couch next to her and hold her. Hold them. But I’ve never touched someone so intensely and I’m scared it might be too much all at once. I’m rooted in place, needing to go to her but not knowing how. I’ve never wanted to be normal before, but right now, I wish I could just hold this girl who’s about to cry and promise I’d never let go. Instead I interlace my hands together and wait. Space is the only thing I can give her.
She rewards my silence with more pieces of her. “I’ve never slept alone. Ever since… Now, whenever I’m alone in my bed, I can’t fall asleep. The only time I can close my eyes are in between moments. On the couch. In front of the TV. And it’s never restful. I’m so tired, Nico.” A sob rakes her body but she holds it in.
I move to sit next to her. “I can feed her. And you can sleep here. I’ll stay next to you.”
A deprecating scoff leaves her lips but her green eyes plead for me to follow through with my offer. “You surely have other things to do.”
“No. I don’t. If you show me how to hold her, then you can sleep, Marie.”
I’m feigning nonchalance. Inside, I’m freaking out.
Where do I put my hands? How do I make sure I don’t drop her? What if she doesn’t like that it’s me carrying her. What if she doesn’t like other people touching her, like I do? What if I don’t?
I open my arms, ready to receive the little bundle wrapped in Marie’s arms. Hesitantly and carefully, Marie pops the bottle out of Ember’s mouth. Threatening wails reach my ears and I smile. I like how predictable Ember is. She’s hungry so she’ll cry until she’s fed. Got it.
“I’m gonna put her right here.” She deposits Ember in my arms, the back of her little head fitting perfectly in the crook of my elbow. “Here, support her with your other arm underneath her back and bottom.” I make a nest with my arms and Ember turns toward my chest, her little fists clenched and resting against the hard plains of my body. I doubt I’m very comfortable. Not like Marie.
“What if I drop her?” I ask, uncertainty tasting like ash in my mouth.
“You won’t. You’re seated and she’s half asleep. Once you start feeding her, she won’t be moving much until she’s done. Are you comfortable?”
“Yes. She’s just so small and fragile. I’ve always seen it but never this close. Are you sure she’s fine? Is she even breathing?” I’m rambling. I never ramble. I prefer to say as little as possible, never wasting my breath with useless words. But I can’t seem to stop worrying. Is this what it’s like to be a parent? I’m gonna be sick.
“Make sure to hold the back of her head when you move.” Marie’s voice cuts through the haze of concern and doubt. “I’m only going to rest my eyes anyway so I’ll hear if she’s unhappy. You need to make her burp afterwards. If the gas is stuck in her belly, she’ll cry and she’ll be in pain.”
“Okay.” I nod and hold the bottle to her tiny mouth. It’s hard to decide if I should look at Ember as she watches me from her soulful eyes or at Marie and how the rise and fall of her chest is already slowing down to a stable and slow rhythm. I do both for a long time. Until Ember falls asleep in my arms and a deep calm settles over my shoulders. Maybe because she’s so innocent, but it’s easy holding Ember. I don’t feel like I need to flay my skin from my muscles and bones or that I could get sick if my fingers touch her.
Ember looks so at peace and pure. Her little yellow clothes contrast with my dark tee-shirt and dark jeans, accentuating all the differences between us. The more I look at her, the more I get irrationally angry at anyone who would want to hurt her and any other being like her, so small and defenceless. I press her against me a little tighter and she releases a little snore. My head drops down on its own and I inhale in her dark curls of hair.
I’m not sure what I was expecting but she doesn’t smell like Marie. It’s sweet but also reminds me of fresh laundry and warm bread. Whatever it is, it’s comforting and makes me want to never put her down.
Marie is curled up on the side of the couch, her dark hair falling gently over her face. The sun has come up by now but doesn’t disturb her sleep.
No intrusive thought of how my father died and how responsible I am plagues me. I keep watch over the two new people in my home like a guard dog on duty and everything in my head settles. I usually have to work harder for that to happen. I dread when I’ll sleep tonight because that’s when memories will be back to the surface and now that Marie and Ember are here, I don’t want them to see.
I get up, Ember in my arms, and glide the strand behind Marie’s ear with two fingers, barely caressing the apple of her cheek. She lets out the tiniest moan. My hand freezes over her.
Holding my breath, I lower down my fingers to her cheek again. Featherlight, I slide them down towards the column of her neck. The same sound escapes her lips. It’s the prettiest sound I’ve ever heard. I let my hand hover over her shoulder before I reluctantly take a step back. I place Ember into the bed I got her in the small open alcove behind the couch. She sleeps soundly so I leave her there, knowing I’m only a few feet away if she needs me.
Sitting in front of Marie again, I relax into my seat and luxuriate in the sight in front of me. Both Marie and Ember sleep soundly, safe in my home. Nothing has ever felt this good.