Saint

Saint

With the sun piercing through the clouds and the seagulls announcing their presence, I loaded my boat with all the equipment required for Victoria’s dive. Today, we would be going twice the depth of her initial dive, and the experience would be much different than the first plunge.

When she approached the boat, I assisted her in her entry, watching as she took a seat.

“Do you remember what we need to do first?” I quizzed, waiting for her to gather her surroundings.

“Oh! Yeah. Equipment check.” She stood and headed over to our oxygen tanks and began checking the breathing apparatus and breathing gas supply. Once that task was complete, she checked the hoses and O-rings. Afterward, she inspected the fins, masks, and snorkels. We went through assembling the gear together and did the classic buddy check to ensure both our equipment functioned as needed.

After agreeing on a dive time and depth of twenty meters, we dressed in our wetsuits, and I powered up the boat to take us out into the ocean.

“Aight, so technically, I’m not a dive instructor. I’m not about to make you do all that shit where you have to tread the water, swim behind the boat, and prove your swimming capabilities. This is all for the experience. Okay?”

“You’re diving, too, right?” She asked, slightly nervous.

“Of course, Beauty. Now listen, the ocean is home to marine life. Don’t be surprised if you see something. Don’t freak out. Don’t splash and flail around. Follow my lead once we go under, aight?”

“Wait, are these shark waters?”

“Tori, sharks live in the ocean. This area isn’t necessarily known to have shark inhabitants, but just remember, you’re a guest in their home. Not the other way around.”

She swallowed before pulling her goggles over her head. “Okay…”

“Don’t worry, Beauty. I won’t let anything happen to you. Remember to equalize your ears once you’re under and then do the same for your mask by...”

“Blowing out my nose.”

“Good. How many atmospheres of pressure will we be under today?”

“Three.”

“Good. Remember, trust your diving instructor, and take the plunge.” With my body hoisted over the edge of the boat, I waited for her to follow suit. Once she was positioned, we both held our noses and dived into the water.

With my body immersed in the water, I took the necessary steps to adjust my ears and clear the water from my goggles. Once I was fully situated in the water, I looked to my left and right, only to find that Tori was still close to the surface. She needed to regulate her buoyancy. Part science and part art, it would take several dives before she fully understood it.

I swam to where she was and assisted her with the task. Once complete, she was able to swim deeper. As we journeyed down, I noticed a school of fish passing by and pointed them out to Tori. Her eyes widened with excitement as we continued our adventure, and I was glad to see it.

We continued our exploration, taking note of the coral reefs and a camouflaged octopus as it made its appearance. Equipped with my underwater camera, I snapped a few photos of Tori as she stared at a crab moving around on the ocean floor.

As I moved closer to the reef she was studying, my limbs froze. Behind Tori, at least five meters back, was a pair of sperm whales. They were returning from the surface, likely from feasting on plankton. Mother and baby in tow, the duo were seemingly about to dive deeper.

I signaled to Tori to get her attention and then held her close as a sign of reassurance. Her eyes bloomed when she saw the whales as they drew near. Seeing them up close in person for the first time was always a shocking experience. Whales were magnificent in size, making humans appear microscopic in comparison.

Once the whales passed, we continued moving through the ocean, chancing a glimpse of an octopus and a few jellyfish. After an hour spent underwater, we resurfaced and boarded the boat. As Tori removed her goggles and other equipment, I asked, “How did you feel about that dive, Beauty?”

“It was amazing! Did you know we’d see whales? That was insane!” She gushed her excitement, birthing the smile on my face.

“Nah, I didn’t know if we’d see them, but it’s always a possibility. I’m glad you enjoyed yourself.”

Removing my swimming fins, I grinned. This was far too comfortable, overtly, too enjoyable, and entirely unexpected. For a brief moment, as I controlled the boat and navigated us back to land, I dissociated with my thoughts, my memories, and my entire sense of self. The cool touch of Victoria’s pruned fingers enclosed me, bringing me back to the present reality. Unfathomably, she had my head fucked up. It wasn’t what I’d intended, and neither did she. I didn’t understand it, and that was a problem.

The shrilling of my phone upon return to the house dragged my attention away from unloading the boat. My father’s name was displayed across the screen, prompting me to answer on the first ring. The unusual summon heightened my curiosity. He only rang when something was important.

“Dad.”

“Saint, I need you to get to the house as soon as possible. Alone.”

“Is something wrong?” Lowering my tone, I asked, shifting to glance at Victoria.

“Just get to the house.”

The silence emanating from the opposing end of the line informed me he’d hung up. Sliding my phone into the pocket of my shorts, I inched toward Victoria to assist her in exiting the vessel. Together, we gathered the dive equipment and walked the dock back toward the house. Once all the equipment was stowed away, I announced my departure.

“I need to meet with my dad. I’ll be back. Sam will be just outside the front door as always, and two men will be out back.”

My father wasn’t very forthcoming on the phone, but the fact that he emphasized my coming alone alerted me that something might be wrong. I wouldn’t risk her safety in my absence.

“Okay,” she dragged. “Is there something I need to know?”

“No.” Pulling her close, I held her at my chest for several unchecked seconds. “I lo– I’ll be back soon,” I amended, planting a kiss on her lips.

Dragging a plain white tee over my exposed chest, I headed out the door and into my car. Wasting little time, my foot connected the gas pedal with the floorboard.

The fifteen minutes it typically required me to arrive at my parents’ home was shortened to twelve. Pulling up to the front door, I parked my car in the circular drive. Utilizing the access code unique to my date of birth, I unlocked the front door and entered.

“Saint,” my mother sang upon seeing me. Her arms outstretched to greet me as I treaded through the foyer.

“How are you, Beautiful?”

She smiled at the term of endearment my father bestowed on her the day they met. My mother smelled like Thierry Mugler’s perfume and fresh biscuits, informing me what goodness awaited me in the kitchen.

“I’ll be even better when I can cradle a newborn and inhale all that newness and goodness.”

“You got any of those biscuits I sense left over?” I asked, ignoring the not-so-subtle expression of her desire for me to procreate.

“I do, but you should probably get to your father. He’s in the study. I’ll bring you a biscuit.”

“Do you know what it’s about?”

“You know your father doesn’t keep me in the loop of his dealings. Nor do I want to be.”

It was true. My mother never was involved in any of my father’s business. Not when he distributed drugs as his lead profession and not now that he’d retired. It was the reason she wasn’t aware of me and Victoria’s wedding sham.

I headed down the hall toward my father’s study to find him positioned as he always was. The air was void of the putrid smell of cigar smoke, ushering my silent gratitude. He was positioned behind his desk with a biscuit in front of him alongside a mug of what smelled like black coffee. The television stole his attention as he watched replays of a football game.

“What’s good, Pops?”

Positioning myself across from him, I relaxed in the seat.

“You threatened Jorge,” he purged, not retiring his intense glare on the TV screen.

“You asking or telling me?”

Relaxing in my seat, I floated the question, censoring a smirk. Of course, I threatened Jorge, and I’d do it again in an instant. As my wife, Victoria was under my care and protection. Playing didn’t fall into any language of my vocabulary, especially when it came to her.

My father opened his mouth to speak only to be interrupted by the soft knocks on the opposing side of the door.

“Come in, Beautiful,” my father called out, already aware of the culprit intruding on our meeting.

My mother entered, bringing my promised biscuit and a glass of water. She sat the plate and glass in front of me before scurrying to my father’s side of the desk. The pair shared a few wet kisses, forcing my attention to turn toward my food.

The evidence of their inability to stray from one another was never lost on me. It was what I’d witnessed but never experienced… Until Victoria. My parents shared over thirty years of love for one another. To admit that such a sickness had come over me didn’t fit what I’d planned for it to be.

I hadn’t planned for any of it. Not the way I memorized Victoria’s cravings, or the way I knew when she was about to start her cycle, or the way I could anticipate when she was about to have a nervous breakdown. Not the way I knew what her every mewl, moan, purr, and whimper meant like a second language, the way I knew every curve, knick, and mark on her body as if I owned it, not the way I anticipated spending time out on the ocean with her, the way I relaxed in her scent of lavender and rose, or the way I anticipated getting home to her.

Nah. I didn’t prepare for any of that shit.

Once my mother left the room, and it was just my father and me, his attention focused in my direction. “I received a call from Jorge a few weeks ago,” he announced. “You threatened him.”

“And?” I asked, wiping crumbs from the sides of my lips.

“And explain yourself, Saint! What would embolden you to do such a thing?”

My father’s impenetrable patience wavered as he spoke. The change in his tone failed to affect me. Instead, I grabbed my glass and chugged the water. Once I’d had my fill, I shifted my attention to the television.

“Jorge must be your new distro. Does he know I killed his brother?”

“Saint, I would be inclined to think you foolish if I didn’t know the genius of a mind you possessed…”

Turning to my dad, I spoke slowly, “He had hitters on Victoria. I took care of one of them. I told him to handle the other one.”

My father grew silent, staring at the half-consumed cup of coffee. “Well, I’m glad you were able to clarify that so simply because he’s on his way as we speak. In fact, he should be here now.

“Is there a problem?” I asked despite not seeing one. If Jorge had an issue with me, he should have made that known on the phone. We could have handled it amongst ourselves.

“Jorge will discuss whatever concerns he has when he arrives. Let this be the last time you throw your weight – the Miller name – around to threaten someone I’m connected to.”

“Tsk.” Kissing my teeth, my attention returned to the television. The Paramour Dragons were up by ten. I tried to let the words roll off my back, but they refused to follow suit, lingering in my chest and racing up my throat.

“What about Victoria? What about your connection to her?”

“You mean your fake wife, Saint?” My father cut the television off and focused on me. “What about her? Tell me, how did you manage to pull off such a convincing display from her during the family dinner? Are you paying her, Saint?”

Shifting in my seat, I felt my toes submit to the nearly uncontrollable urge to curl. The way my father pegged me and Victoria’s agreement was far from uncomfortable. Still, I refused to admit that he was right.

“I have something special with her.”

“Mmh hmm. You fell in love,” my father mused, combing through his lengthy goatee.

“I wouldn’t call–”

My statement was interrupted by the knock and then entry of Jorge Reed. Behind him were two men I assumed to be muscle. The scruffy, lean man shrouded in a peppered beard was greeted by my father while I remained seated.

“Jorge!” My dad bellowed, rising and grasping Jorge’s hand with both of his. He shot me a look urging me to rise but was met with my refusal.

“ángel,” Jorge nodded in my direction before taking the seat closest to the door.

“Jorge.”

“I was unable to reach you directly,” he revealed, turning in my direction. “Unfortunately, I had to contact your father, who was more than willing to arrange a meeting with you, provided that he would be present.”

“Get to the point, Jorge. I have better things to consume my day,” I flushed out, thinking of Victoria. It was a weekend, and we’d made plans to spend it together after our dive. Later in the day, we would grab lunch and stop by the recreational center to see how construction was moving along.

“I took care of your little problem with the hired gun. Consider it a thank-you gift for all that you’ve done for me.” Motioning to one of his men, he waited until they handed him a brown envelope.

“This is for you, my friend.”

Taking possession of the envelope, I pulled out its contents. Pictures. Several of them revealed the tail on Victoria, photos of her being followed by the man, and finally, photos of him deceased. Swallowing, I tossed the images onto the desk.

“You’re not impressed?” Jorge asked. “Miguel, I told you it would be better to bring his head.”

The way he rattled off his “gift” as if he hadn’t created the problem in the first place crept under my skin. I shared a glance with my father, who’d gathered the images into a pile and was now burning them in his fireplace.

Unbothered, Jorge grinned. “You took care of my brother, getting him out of the way so that I could inherit the Miller distribution network and run it properly. I took care of your wife’s problem so that you could live happily ever after. We are…como se dice, even now.

Not bothering to question how he knew I was the shooter in his brother’s demise, I rose and exited the study. Quickly, I calculated the math. It didn’t take me long to accept it. My father had been in cahoots with Jorge all this time. It was the reason he’d been so riled up upon finding out I’d threatened him. Feeling my anger rise for both of the men in my presence, my best course of action was to leave my parents’ home. It was well past my time to get the hell out of there.

Planted in the comfort of my car, I released my frustration as a sigh. Despite my anger, at least Victoria was safe now. It was one less thing to be concerned about on a growing list of things concerning the woman.

Are you paying her?

The question taunted at the discovery of information also loaded into my conscience during my visit. Was the million-dollar ticket the reason why Victoria had gone all pro-Saint on my family? Was her loyalty a result of the hefty price I’d placed on our union? I wanted to believe otherwise. I wanted to believe she gave a fuck about me, but maybe it was all a farce. My hand crashed into my face as I combed my fingers down until they raked through my beard. I shouldn’t have even been having those thoughts. It shouldn’t have mattered.

But it did matter. Inadvertently, the seed of doubt was sewn by my father and was rapidly taking root. Deciding not to water it further, I shook my head and switched to a different channel. One that included seaweed and killer whales. Yeah, that was much more fitting.

Powering up the car, I peeled out of my parents’ driveway and made my way back to the beach.

The Miller Community and Recreational Centerwas coming along wonderfully, thanks to Victoria’s assistance. We hammered out a location and were in the beginning stages of construction with contractors. There was still documentation to complete to secure the business as a 501(c)(3), but I was confident that everything would come together as it should. Though initially skeptical, as things began to unfold, I shared Victoria’s initial excitement.

As we entered the month of September, however, she scaled back on her involvement with the center in favor of working on her show. I didn’t mind. Hell, if I knew the first thing about sewing, I’d probably be up at Demure HQ working away my days to ensure her show’s success. Since that wasn’t an option, I showed up for her however I could. Sometimes, it meant bringing her lunch or dinner to the office. Sometimes it meant massaging her back or supplying mid-day dick to get her through the remainder of her workday.

Comfort,

like a warm embrace

from the sun,

it sheathed me.

I was becoming better at the charge to secure it for her in every way. I’d fallen in love with her. It hadn’t happened over the course of our time together. I was convinced it happened the day I saw her on Komodo Island, cowering under that rock with a tortoise in her hands. I wasn’t sure how to feel about the fact. Nuanced, my thoughts were considering that I’d tainted our relationship with the promise of money after a year. Victoria had a million reasons to love me, and that was problematic.

A love that mirrored me.

A love that magnified me.

A love that reminded me that I was love.

A love that said come as you are.

A love that created the bar.

A love that elevated the bar.

A love that granted me space.

A love that made me feel safe.

A love that led me back to myself.

Yeah. Victoria was all that and more, but was it pure? Was it real for her? I couldn’t tell. To ameliorate my feelings, I went to visit Dr. Gibson. I had every intention to tell her everything about my marriage, including the monetary agreement. Those plans shifted when I sank into that damned couch. There was nothing I craved more than to gush over my relationship once my bones were settled in… comfort. Dr. Gibson and I agreed upon a low dose of antianxiety medication to assist me with my sensory processing disorder, and then we dived right into my relationship with Tori.

“You mentioned that the past few months of your life have altered significantly. What changed?”

Dr. Gibson shifted gears, imploring me to share the changes I’d undergone. I hadn’t scheduled an appointment in months because I was busy engaging in the new life I had. I was busy engaging my wife.

“I got married,” I beamed, thinking of my spitfire of a partner.

“Oh.” The disappointment displayed on Dr. Gibson’s face was quickly schooled to neutral as she cleared her throat. “How has married life been for you,” she probed.

“I haven’t enjoyed anything as much as I enjoy being with her… Victoria.”

“Why is that, Saint?”

“She exposed me to a side of myself I hadn’t known existed. She exposed me to love. I know what a content life is. I know what a rich life is. I’ve lived that. Victoria is contentment with the addition of sparkles.”

“I think it’s wonderful that you’ve found someone so pivotal to your emotional growth.”

“You don’t think it’s codependent?” I asked.

I was looking for any excuse that would endorse my apprehension and make distancing myself from Victoria simpler.

“Being in love with someone who makes your life feel richer is far from codependency. You stated your life was content and rich without her. Codependency means addiction to the relationship. It’s dysfunctional and comes at the expense of your own needs. From what you’ve told me about your wife, your marriage is far from codependent.”

I nodded my head in agreement with her explanation. The war inside my head still raged in favor of distance, however.

“What makes you feel like it’s codependent?”

“Nothing. There are just times when I can’t imagine returning to life without her presence in it.”

“Because you’ve fallen in love with her. Your feelings are highly intense because this is the first time you’ve experienced love. That doesn’t mean you’re codependent. Lean into your feelings for this woman –Victoria– that you’ve married. That’s our time, for now, Saint. I do wish you the best.”

Despite what Dr. Gibson said, I continued to cradle the doubts heavy in my head. They evaded all the joy, all the comfort, all the love I’d begun to feel coursing through my veins. I could have simply asked Victoria if she’d stay without the money, but I’d psyched myself out to believe she wouldn’t. A man of my word, I wouldn’t waffle against it. I promised her the money so she’d receive it.

Victoria had seen right through me, peeling away the armor of pride and solitude I’d worn to protect myself. As problematic as it was, I stayed the course. The extensive time we’d spent together was required to sift through my heart’s contents. What I found was love. A foreign invader, it wasn’t supposed to be there. I’d never felt anything like it. Sure, I loved my family as they loved me, but I was born into that. I’d been groomed to possess feelings for them.

This was something entirely different.

Something I hadn’t prepared for. Something deep, rich, poignant, and raw.

When she made it home, I waited as I listened to her footsteps tread the halls in search of me. As I rested against the patio lounger, I heard her draw near. Finally, she opened the back door.

“Hey, Saint. Is everything all right?” Wrinkle lines dug into her face as her eyes fell on me. She was worried.

Mirroring her features, I frowned. “No, Tori. It’s not.”

“Baby, tell me what’s wrong.”

She drew near me, forcing me to stand in retreat. I couldn’t bear her closeness. She’d siphon me in and wouldn’t let go. “Tori.” I held an outstretched arm, requesting distance.

“Saint?”

The concern painted on her face. The fear. The worry. All bought and paid for. She hadn’t caused my alarm. It was me. I was the monster. The beast who’d manufactured love. I’d petitioned this farce, falling down a loop of confusion and big feelings that led me to stand before her, prepared to splinter her bubbly aura and fracture her heart.

Of course, I loved her. That was the problem. We were only supposed to play house, not build one.

“I made a mistake. This was a mistake. Us…” I motioned between the two of us.

My words were fractured as I stood in front of the woman who’d taken possession of my heart stuttering and stammering like a bitch.

In synchronistic fashion, we both heaved our next breaths. “I’m saying you don’t have to concern yourself with the arrangement anymore. I don’t want to do this anymore, Tori. I can’t.”

Even as I spoke the words, I couldn’t connect a shred of truth to them. And much like her heart, her face and voice fractured, too.

“What do you mean, Saint?” She winced.

“In this bag, you’ll find the million in cash that I promised you seven months ago.” I motioned to the duffle bag near my feet. “We don’t have to pretend anymore. You can… return to your life and forget that I ever came into it. You can forget me. You can drop the mask of concern about me. And don’t worry your pretty head, Beauty. I made sure you’re safe. You can return to the–”

“–Ugh!”

My speech was interrupted by grunts and growls paired with the collision of slender hands shoving into my chest as Victoria grimaced. Like a rainbow, she was always beautifully transparent and variegated with her emotions. She had no problem putting them on display. Again and again, she shoved into me with all the hundred fifty pounds of might in her possession. Her little hands balled into fists as they collided with my chest. Again and again, they attempted to gain access to my most prized possession.

“What do you mean you can’t do this anymore? Huh?” She gritted as she frowned and shoved into me. As we stood out on the patio, the evidence of a pending storm loomed overhead. Her straightened hair whipped in the wind, nearly covering her face. I’d seen her angry, but at present, she was livid.

“You can drop the act, Victoria. Take the money and go.”

“Who the fuck is pretending here, Saint? Return to what life after you’ve planted yourself so deeply in it? I don’t have anything to return to!”

Between her words came the downpour of frustration and disappointment in the form of tears.

“Victoria, you’re a wonderful, beautiful, successful woman. You have an entire world that existed before I came along–”

“And you’re a part of that now! Saint, what are you doing, love? Why are you doing this?”

I’d never witnessed her broken, yet here I was, slamming the vessel in her chest into thousands of pieces. Our end was met where it began, on the beach. And despite the irony, there was no poetry in the fact. Only pain remained. Dr. Gibson had neglected to inform me how agonizing love could be.

“I don’t do this! I don’t grovel. I don’t beg, and yet here I am, humbled and hurting because you felt something and freaked out?” Victoria pointed to me accusatorially as she sniffed and frowned. There were so many emotions playing on her face that it was difficult to keep up. “Really, Saint?”

My fucking toes curled.

“This wasn’t part of the recipe of what we were cooking, Victoria.” I shifted my gaze elsewhere because her eyes held far too much truth. Her pain was mine. A reflection that I didn’t wish to see.

Watching her crumble was like poison seeping through my veins. I didn’t dare watch her cry. It tightened my chest, like the marionette strings she claimed over it. But this was different than the willful hold I’d surrendered to her. This was pure, unadulterated pain. I wanted something real and profound. I’d located it but found difficulty determining if it was genuine. There were a million reasons for it not to be. That was my problem.

“Tell me you would be here if it weren’t for the money.” Sniffing my own tears away, I begged her to make a fool of me.

“Saint, I–Listen.”

Her inability to grant me the words I needed to hear left me fragmented. I needed the affirmation she couldn’t provide. I needed to know that her loyalty no longer had a price. Shaking my head, I relinquished the last of my strength.

“Just take it, Tori.” I shoved the duffle bag in her direction, and she scowled like I’d attempted to throw acid.

It was better to cut my losses now than to wait until we’d logged a year, and she was packing her shit, and I was hurting at the prospect of her disappearing from my life. It was better this way. This was damage control.

“No,” she sniffed. “We cooked something better. Something real. I know this arena is outside your purview of specialties, but Saint, please hear me out.”

“Victoria, take the money and go.” I couldn’t stand to be this person, to feel this impossible pain. I needed her out of my face and out of my space so that I could grieve in peace.

“Fuck you and your money,” she groused, wearing the disgust I’d delivered on her frame like battle scars.

Away, she turned, leaving the final memory of her behind in the form of lavender and rose. The scent lingered as her frame drifted away from me. Violently, her dress whispered against the wind, all of it leaving my head in a tailspin. As she stumbled through the patio opening away from me, the bag with a million excuses not to love me remained unclaimed.