15. Marie
15
MARIE
HOW NOT TO FALL WHEN YOUR ROOMMATE SAYS “USE ME”
I wake with a start, head pounding reminding me that I haven’t touched the precious liquid that annihilates me as much as it gives me life in way longer than I’d like. For once, my lips don’t stick together and my throat isn’t parched so I guess small wins and all that. I turn my head left and right and suddenly, the past few hours come rushing. I’m not home and I can’t see my daughter. The house is shrouded in semi-obscurity. I must have slept all day. I straighten on the sofa and look for Ember but she’s nowhere to be found.
“She’s fed, sleeping soundly in the alcove behind us. She probably needs to be changed but I don’t know how to do that. And I’m not sure you want me to,” a voice like sin says next to me and I deflate, swallowing around the lump in my throat. No one in my family has ever dared stay and watch over me and Ember for a full night.
In the low light, I didn’t see Nico but he’s here. A vigilante sitting on his lounge chair like it’s a throne. The setting sun reflects on his pupils, almost giving him the allure of a beast hidden in the forest, ready to hunt. His dark clothes blend in his surroundings but his posture is relaxed against the back of the chair. I tilt my head to the side and take my time to observe him as he flicks on a vintage lamp by his side. High cheekbones, piercings on his lower lip, short cropped hair and a myriad of tattoos on his arms and hands. He’s magnificent when he’s ready to pounce, but seeing him at ease is soothing.
“What time is it?” I ask just to break the silence becoming heavy between us.
“7 pm.”
Fuck, I did sleep all day. I don’t know when was the last time I slept that long and that deeply. At least not since the funeral. I haven’t been able to fully rest all alone in my bedroom. The door was always open to Lisa’s space as if my soul was waiting for her to show up. But she never did.
“I need to feed Ember again. And do some groceries for what she’ll need.”
I get up and walk to the kitchen counter to rummage through my bag and take a pen to make a list. I don’t know if they have the same products here than we have on Kalliste but my cheeky baby only likes one brand of formula and I want to make sure I don’t forget anything. I also only have like three diapers in my small suitcase. “Thank you for letting me stay here for a few days,” I add behind my shoulder, not looking at the man whose unwavering attention slowly starts to awaken feelings I’ve never had before.
Nico stands and prowls to me with graceful movements, stopping shy of a foot in front of me next to his dark kitchen counter. “I sent Giulia to get the same formula as the one you had in your bag, and there are diapers in the alcove. I wasn’t sure which size you’d need so I got three different ones. I also looked up online what you would need for her and for yourself so there is a lot of stuff between there and your room. Baby wipes, tampons and pads, also in different sizes?—”
He continues to list more items he bought for me and I feel my cheeks warm with heat. He stays a foot away from me and I wish I could close the distance and hug him. His kindness is a little too much right now. My lips tremble with emotion. “You didn’t have to do all this, Nico.”
“Of course, I did. I want to take care of you.”
The declaration isn’t something to write home about. It’s pure honesty and almost brutal, warming me from the inside out, throat to stomach. With the way my family has handled me in the past six weeks, it breaks my resolve. A sob escapes me before I can hold it in.
“Why are you crying?” Nico immediately asks, concern raising his pitch.
“Because you’re being very kind. And very honest.”
“And that’s a bad thing?”
“No,” I laugh softly. “It’s a very good thing. I’m just not used to it.”
There’s barely any light in the room but I don’t miss his frown when I look up into his dark brown eyes.
“My family hasn’t been very honest with me lately. Or ever for that matter. And I wasn’t either. I never told them about Lisa’s cancer.” His jaw ticks but he stays quiet. The fact that he doesn’t try to tell me how much they care for me and I must not interpret their love correctly is enough to make me cry harder. “I don’t think anyone knows what to do with me or how to deal with my shit.”
“There’s nothing to do with you, Marie. You’re a human being experiencing a very unique kind of grief. You’re not to be dealt with .”
Nico steps into my space. We’re so close I can almost feel the rise and fall of his chest like it’s my own breath filling up my lungs. “You don’t have to do or be anyone but yourself here.”
“Thank you.”
I remain silent and lose myself in his eyes, resolve and authentic care written all across his striking features. I make the mistake of dropping my gaze to his lip in time to see him flick his piercing with the tip of his tongue three times. Heat rises in my body until it drops lower. The sensation is new and heady. It reminds me of how it feels when whiskey spreads inside my bloodstream, except the heat usually stays in my stomach and now, it pours lower still and settles at the apex of my thighs. I want to press them together but I clench the pen in my hand instead and turn my attention back to my list. I write down a few items even though I’m sure I’ll find them in the guest bedroom.
“Can you show me where Ember is?” I ask Nico and he takes me to the semi-closed space behind the sofa where a baby bed is set up against the wall, my daughter sleeping soundly, wrapped in a soft grey blanket.
“Did you wrap her?” I ask incredulously.
Nico nods. “I watched tutorials. They say it’s the safest for babies so they don’t suffocate under heaps of fabric.”
My heart jumps inside my chest. “That’s… incredibly thoughtful. Thank you.”
“I wanted to make sure I could do what was right in case you wanted to rest. I’m glad I learned before you arrived.”
“But I texted you just a few hours ago.” I frown and he shrugs, like his behaviour is obvious.
“I’ve been learning since she was born. I read a lot. It’s confusing because people have different opinions so I’m not sure what is correct but this, professionals agree on.” His matter-of-fact admission is both jarring and cute. I turn my attention back to him. His eyes are on Ember but he has a puppy-like excitement written all across his beautiful face and when he looks back at me, his smile is blinding. I find myself smiling back and wanting to hug him. He’s tall and lean, unlike the men in my family or the goons who watched over my sister and I. I think I like it, but I remain rooted in place instead of closing the short distance between us to settle into his arms. Rejection would break me right now.
He gives me privacy while I change her and wrap her to my chest.
“Do you want to see the rest of the house?” he asks with something akin to hope in his voice a few minutes later.
I nod and Nico takes me to visit the rest of the small cabin. He lights up another side lamp that illuminates the space in a warm yellow glow. The lounge area and open kitchen is comfortable. Night has truly fallen and without any neighbours close, it’s too dark to make out the landscape outside. After walking a short corridor, two doors on the right side open to bedrooms and one on the left to a bathroom made of black and white tiles. There’s no bath but a beautiful shower with what looks like a lot of jets. It’s calling my name and Nico must sense it.
“There’s a bathrobe and towels on your bed, if you’d like to shower.”
The way he anticipates my needs makes my stomach swoop. He shows me how to operate the massage jets and leaves me to it, telling me that he’ll take care of Ember if she wakes up.
I haven’t trusted any member of my family with her but I trust Nico. I know he won’t take her away from me and with all the online research he’s done since she was born, it makes me feel like he was waiting for my call. Is it wrong of me to rely on him more than I thought I would? To let him take the burden off my shoulders for a few moments? I decide to answer the million questions in my head at a later time, when I’m not so frazzled and raw.
I untangle my daughter from my chest and lay her in his waiting arms. His entire body softens as he carries her to the living room.
I stay way longer under the spray of hot water than I normally would, allowing the heat to melt my tired muscles and relax my overstimulated brain. Unfortunately, it doesn’t abate the raging headache pounding in my brain so vividly I feel it in my eye sockets.
I put on dark joggers and a comfy black sweater from my suitcases that only comprises dark clothing. I never liked colour but now, they remind me of Lisa too much and I can’t bear to see colours anymore.
When I step back into the open living room, Nico is setting up an easel and blank canvas by the large window in front of the patio, brushes and paint next to it on a high table.
“You paint?” I ask incredulously. I don’t know why I’ve never pictured him as an artist. Maybe it’s because I know he comes from a criminal family like mine and hobbies seem futile.
“Yes. But rarely in here,” he answers cryptically.
My stomach rumbles loudly in the silent room and I blush.
“You’re hungry. I have some leftovers in the fridge, we can reheat them.”
Without waiting for an answer, Nico moves towards the fridge on silent feet and graceful movements that speak of his occupation. I stand and observe him, unguarded in his home as he places what looks like lasagna on a plate and re-heats it in the microwave. It’s so common. Too common for a man like him, that looks like Death itself but feels like a safe haven.
The microwaves beeps and he takes the steaming plate out. The smell of homemade cooked pasta in cherry tomatoes sauce wafts towards me, and my stomach grumbles louder, pulling a smile on Nico’s pierced lips.
“Eat, Marie,” he says and I frown. Receiving orders from him sends a chill to my spine—not a good one—and I click my tongue.
“I’m sorry.” He bows his head slightly. “My mother made the lasagna for Friday’s dinner at Andrea's. Would you like some?”
“Yes, thank you, Nico.”
I sit and take my first bite of food since the beginning of the day. Flavours burst on my tongue and my eyes close, savouring. It tastes very different from my Mammona’s recipe and I think that might be why I love it even more. My heart clenches at the reminder that I basically fled my family including her. If someone never made me feel like a burden, it’s my grandmother but I still died a little more each day, isolated in that big house full of life.
“You’re trembling. Are you cold?” Nico asks and pulls me out of my daydreams. Or are they nighttime thoughts? It’s past nine in the evening after all.
“No.”
The trembling is automatic when my body misses the alcohol I’ve got it accustomed to.
“Do you need a drink?”
My mouth gapes open. I’ve never hidden from him but his brutal honesty is disconcerting and makes me want to lash out and hide. His eyes retain no disdain or disgust that yes, my body needs it, so I simply answer. “Yes”.
Nico gets up and pulls a can out of his fridge. “Here. It’s a low alcohol beer. Going cold turkey isn’t going to cut it. I also want you to use me when you need to drink.”
“What?” I sputter around a mouthful of lasagna.
Use him? I’m a virgin and I barely know him. What sort of proposition is that? That’s not only an unconventional approach, it’s ridiculous. Besides, what is he going to do on top of offering sexual favours? Enable me? I still have Ember to take care of. She hasn’t woken up in hours and I know she’ll cry for her first night bottle soon.
“I said ‘I want you to use me when you need to drink’.”
“I heard you loud and clear, Nico.” I cross my arms, plate discarded in front of me. My hand itches with the need to lift the beer to my lips. I don’t even like beer. But I do like the promise of relief from the ache in my system. “I have no clue what you mean and I didn’t come here to play games. Explain.”
Slowly, Nico drops his fork and dabs his luscious mouth with a napkin, leaving the kitchen island to sit on the sofa. It’s not the first time I’m alone with this man while he sits as if setting himself lower than me. The butterflies taking flight in my stomach have nothing to do with the need for alcohol for once and everything with the killer in front of me. Of course I know what role Nico plays in our chess board of underground organisations, but he’s letting me have the upper hand. My head swims with the power of it.
Nico cranes his neck ever so slightly to look up at me. Driven by a force stronger than the one coursing through my hands and directing me to the glass bottle, I rise and walk to stand in front of him. “Use you, how?” I articulate each word.
“Anyway you like,” he answers, his eyes glowing with what I think is trepidation behind the amber irises.
I lick my lips involuntarily.
The tether between us is taut and pulls me to him. Our eyes stay locked as I rise and close the distance separating me from him until I stand just in front of his knees. When he doesn’t move, I raise a brow. Nico opens his legs until I can step in between. My chest swells with pride as he does exactly what I want and I give him a gentle smile. What is it with this dynamic that makes me crave more?
His eyes shine with eagerness, his hands clasped on his thighs like he’s trying his best not to reach for me. The cocktail is heady.
“Are you offering to distract me, Nico?”
He nods.
“Use your words.”
“Yes, Miss Marie.” I almost groan and bite my lip instead. “I didn’t think you’d take that road. I thought you’d want to talk but I’m not complaining.”
“Are you offering your body as a distraction, Nico?” I ask, tilting my head to the side, trying to gauge his interest.
My heart beats inside my ribcage, expecting rejection and more disappointment. I don’t recognise myself. I’m not interested in intimacy like that. At least not until now. Not until him. I haven’t taken a sip of that beer but I’m drunk on something else. Something I don’t know how to name but as powerful. Is that why he’s offering? Does he know what he does to me?