Chapter xxiv
xxiv
SOMETIMES THINGS FEEL PREDESTINED. LIKE THAT old “take the current when it serves” line from Shakespeare that I think about all the time. These preordained moments are there, waiting for us, and we can grab hold of them when we want to, do with them what we will. Kate and I talked a while ago about that text meme going around the internet that says: Life isn’t about what happens to you, but about what you do with what happens to you. And that feels so true to me these days. What did I do with the life I was given, with the choices presented? What did you? What did any of us?
That night, after dinner, Dax walked me to an overlook with a view of the harbor. There were sculptures there—a three-dimensional mural of sorts made from objects that had washed up on the island. An installation piece that looked like a chalkboard with the English words Before I die … printed on it. People had filled in the sentence below it, an array of different handwritings and languages. I wonder what you would have written, Gabe. And whether it was something you’d ended up accomplishing.
Past that art piece was a bench facing the sea, with two rocking chairs next to it.
“I’ve asked around about these,” he told me. “And the story I got is that years ago a man named Teodoro left a rocking chair here to sit in while he watched the sunset each night. And then a friend of his brought one to join him. Both of them are gone now, but the rocking chairs remain.”
“Can we sit in them?” I asked him.
He smiled. “Nothing stopping us.”
Dax held my hand as we walked to the rocking chairs, the island wind whipping through my hair and the touch of his fingers warming me all over. I stopped at the chair that had a moon and stars carved into the back. It was calling out to me.
“Okay if I take this one?” I asked.
He nodded and sat in the chair next to mine, a simple spindle-back with armrests.
We both started rocking slowly, then gradually picked up speed, like my kids used to do on the swings in the park, pumping their legs as quickly as they could until their feet sailed over my head.
“I feel like I’m flying!” I said.
I thought about how much Sam and Liam would love this.
“I feel like a cowboy!” Dax said, swinging his hand like he was holding an imaginary lasso.
We both laughed as we rocked. And then the laugh ing slowed and so did the rocking until we eventually stopped doing both.
“I’m glad you let your adventure take you to Lampedusa,” he said. “And I’m glad I could share this time with you.”
“Thank you,” I said. I reached my hand out and he reached back, so we were holding hands across the chairs. Being with Dax felt like finding the key to a locked box in my heart and opening it a crack, letting out the feelings I was afraid to experience again.
I tilted my head back to see the stars. They were so visible here, with hardly any ambient light. “I’m glad you’re here,” I said, “though I’m sorry about the reason why. I’m sorry so many people have to take this journey to begin with.”
Dax nodded. “I I have more to say about that, but let’s save the conversation for when we know each other better,” he said. I could feel the weight of the promise in his words. “Are you looking for Lucy in the sky with diamonds?”
“Just admiring the stars,” I said, and then I tipped my chin back down and found him looking straight at me. “Hi,” I said softly.
“Just admiring you,” he replied, letting go of my hand and pushing himself off the chair. “I think all we have left on our agenda this evening is marshmallow pies. Do you want to teach me to bake?”
We were standing now, facing each other, only a few inches apart. He reached for my hand and caught my gaze with his. The moonlight held us, sparking in Dax’s eyes.
“Sure,” I answered.
“Good,” he said, coming closer.
And then he bent his head and touched his lips to mine, and I melted into him.
I brought my hand to his chest and felt his heart beating, steady beneath my fingers. He was so real, so solid, after years of kisses only being in my imagination.
Our lips broke apart and he rested his forehead against mine, his fingertips soft on my waist, our breaths mingling as he said, “Lucy, Lucy. You’re so lovely. Can we … can we keep each other company tonight?”
“I didn’t expect this,” I whispered. I basked in his warmth, in the feel of his forehead resting on mine, the echo of our lips meeting. And for the first time in years, I wanted more. “Come to my hotel.”
“Yes,” he said, pulling me closer, laying his cheek against my hair. “You are so, so lovely.”
It wasn’t something I was used to being called, but I liked it. I took his hand, and we walked the four blocks back to my hotel, our fingers intertwined, holding each other tight.
WE WERE QUIET ON THE WALK BACK, AND I WAS worried that things would feel strange once we made this decision, once we knew where the evening was going, but it didn’t. Everything felt easy between us, natural, and electric. I could feel the current where our hands touched and did all I could to contain the anticipation that was verging on panic. Was I actually going to sleep with someone else for the first time in more than seven and a half years?
“How did you choose this hotel?” he asked as we walked through the lobby.
“The Associated Press travel department,” I said. “Gabe’s editor asked them to help me out.”
Dax nodded. “He really meant a lot to you.”
“Still does,” I said. “Always will.” I wasn’t sure if that was something I should admit to the man who was coming up to my hotel room, but I’ve realized over the years that it doesn’t make sense to pretend. I am who I am, I feel what I feel. And there’s no reason to hide myself anymore. I’m forty-four years old, and at this point, people can take me as I am, or not at all.
“Feelings that strong are beautiful,” Dax said, and squeezed my hand with his.
I smiled at him. He was taking me as I was. The only response I could think of was “Thank you.”
ONCE WE WERE IN THE HOTEL ROOM, DAX WALKED to the window. I followed.
“I always like being able to see the sky,” he said. “Maybe it comes from working for so many hours in interior rooms in hospital ERs, but I can breathe better when I can see the sky.”
I tucked myself against him so I could see what he was seeing, and he slid his arm around my back. “It’s beautiful,” I said, marveling at the fact that there was a man here whom I could touch, who could touch me, whom I wanted to touch me.
“Lovely,” he agreed, and I leaned my head against his shoulder, breathing in his scent of citrus and spice.
“You like that word,” I noted.
He laughed. “I guess I do. You are lovely, just like the sky, just like the stars.”
And then we kissed again, and it felt like relief, like my body was exhaling for the first time in a long time.
Our kissing moved slowly toward the bed, our bodies pressed so close that when one of us took a step, we both did. There was no air between us, just heat. When we got to the bed, he sat down and pulled me onto his lap.
“Is this okay?” he whispered softly.
“Yes,” I answered.
And then his lips were back on mine, and his hands were on the nape of my neck, his fingers caressing my hair. It felt so good. It had been far too long since I’d been kissed like that, touched like that, with tenderness, with reverence.
Dax bent his head to brush a soft kiss against my collarbone and then looked up at me. “Thank you for inviting me over,” he said.
I laughed, my head tilted back slightly, and he caught my neck with another kiss, sliding his lips down to where my shirt was unbuttoned.
“I can take that off,” I whispered.
“That would be—”
“Lovely?” I finished for him.
He laughed against my skin, his breath trailing goose bumps across my body. “How about ‘great’?”
I pulled my shirt over my head, revealing the black bra I had on underneath.
“God,” he said, his eyes on my chest and then my lips and then my eyes. “You are spectacular.”
“ You ,” I said. “ You are spectacular.”
We started kissing again, and then he fumbled at the buttons on his shirt.
“Let me,” I said softly, undoing them one by one.
My hands were on the top button of his jeans. “Yes?” I asked.
“Please,” he answered.
So I unbuttoned and unzipped his jeans, and he reached toward me to unbutton and unzip mine. We separated a moment to kick our pants off, and I looked over at him. He had on gray boxer briefs, patterned with tiny black diamonds.
“Cute,” I said.
“I play poker,” he answered. And then he took those off, too.
I slid my black underwear off, and the two of us paused for a moment, standing at the side of the bed, staring at each other. I felt the heat of his gaze, bathing me in desire, his and mine.
“Lucy in the sky with diamonds,” he said. “You are something else.”
I pulled the quilt off the bed and sat down on the soft hotel sheets. “Come here,” I said.
Dax complied. I was at just the right height to stroke my fingers down his erection and bring it to my lips. I ran my tongue down the length of him and then took all of him in my mouth.
He was breathing hard, and I could feel his thigh muscles clenching under my hands. I took my mouth off his erection.
“You okay?” I asked.
He looked down at me and cupped my face in his hands, his thumb stroking across my lips. “Oh god, yes.” Then he slid down to his knees and gently pushed me back against the mattress. “My turn,” he said as he braced my legs on either side of his broad shoulders.
I closed my eyes and felt his tongue dragging against the most sensitive part of me. My every nerve ending seemed to pulse with light. I pulsed with light. Like I truly was Lucy, in the sky, sparkling with the glow of a thousand diamonds.
A sound escaped my mouth that was part sigh and part moan. I was out of my mind with the beauty of how I felt. The majesty of it.
He stopped and looked at me. “Lucy,” he said, his voice husky with desire, “I have a condom, if you want …”
I liked that he didn’t assume. And I did want this. I hadn’t wanted anyone inside me for so long. But Dax felt right. More than right, he felt like a reawakening. A gift.
“I do want,” I told him.
He bent down and found his jeans on the floor, and then pulled three condom wrappers out of the billfold of his wallet.
As he unrolled one of the condoms, I could see him pulse even harder.
“Come here,” he said, climbing onto the bed.
I came closer and his mouth was back on mine. I could feel my nipples stiffen, my body go molten.
“Now you,” I said, lying down and opening my legs. “You come here.”
Dax hovered above me for a moment, then slowly slid inside, leaning down to kiss me as he did.
“Yes,” I breathed out, when I felt him fill me. “Oh my god, yes.”
It felt like bounty after years of deprivation, luxury after years of scarcity.
He started rocking his body and I moved against him, matching his rhythm.
Pressure built between my legs. It felt divine. It felt miraculous. “Dax, I’m gonna—” I said, but couldn’t even finish the sentence before a glittering orgasm started rippling through me and I was bucking against him.
“Wow,” he said when I was trying to catch my breath. “That was intense.”
“I meant to wait,” I said, my breath slowing down again.
Still inside me, he stroked my hair off my forehead. “It’s okay,” he said. “You never have to wait. But let’s see if you can do that again.”
He moved inside me, and I shivered. “God, you feel perfect,” I told him.
“You too,” he whispered as he thrust harder.
We changed rhythms, changed positions a few times, until finally he peeled off the condom, wiped off the lubricant. I laid my cheek on his lap and ran my tongue along the rim of him, hearing him moan. I closed my lips around him, stroking with my tongue.
“Lucy, Lucy, yes, oh god, Lucy,” he said, the words crashing into each other.
He rolled away for a moment, gasping, and then put a new condom on.
I climbed onto his lap, pulling him back inside me, wrapping my legs around his back, bringing his mouth to mine.
“I’m so far in,” he said into my lips. “You’re so wet.”
“I know,” I whispered back.
I could feel him hitting that spot deep inside me that would make me orgasm, not like I had initially, the glittery kind that happened when someone rubbed against my clit, but the deeper kind, the kind that echoed throughout my whole self.
I pulled him in even farther with my legs.
He thrust hard, again and again and again. I was so close, couldn’t believe I was going to orgasm again. I felt his breath on my face, his hands in my hair.
“I’m gonna—” he said.
“Me too,” I answered, using my last bit of focus to form the words.
And then we both lost ourselves in the shudder and the breath and the power of it all. It was bliss, it was ecstasy, it was both of us dancing together in oblivion.
After a moment, we lay back, our breath still coming heavy and fast. Dax rolled over so I was on the bottom and he was on top, our bodies still together.
“My god,” he said, his breath slowing down. “My god. I’ve never …”
“I know,” I answered. “That was … transcendent.”
How could I have found him? There? On Lampedusa? Another man who made me feel like you did, Gabe?
I didn’t know how much I needed that. I needed sex. I needed sex with Dax.
We called down to the front desk for a toothbrush, and he put on his boxer briefs and his button-down, open like a robe. I put on my underwear, too, and grabbed a T-shirt from my duffel. It was an old one from a race I’d once run, and it had gotten soft and threadbare with age. It was one of my favorite sleep shirts.
Dax ran his fingers along the fabric. “It’s as soft as it looks,” he said.
“Mm-hmm,” I answered, pulling my hair into a ponytail.
“Glad I get to cuddle with that T-shirt all night,” he said, a small smile on his face, before he went to the door to greet the toothbrush deliverer.
When he left the bed, the enormity of what had just happened hit me. Another man had been inside me. Another man had made me orgasm. And now another man would be sleeping in my bed. I’d be sharing my bed for the first time in nearly eight years. The kids crawled in with me sometimes, but usually it was just me, sleeping alone. My mind was telling me to panic, but my body was saying no. I turned off my mind and listened to my body. A Mary Oliver poem came to mind about letting the soft animal of my body love what it loved. And my body, sure as anything, loved Dax.
After we brushed our teeth and washed our faces, we climbed into bed and Dax turned out the light. I was aware of him, of his heat, his breath, the spicy scent of sex and sweat and his citrus shampoo. I wondered how I’d ever fall asleep with him there, with my body wanting so much more.
But then Dax curved himself around me, like you used to do, and I closed my eyes. “Want to hear a bedtime story?” he asked.
“Sure,” I answered sleepily, pulling his hand so his arm wrapped around my torso and our fingers were intertwined.
“Once upon a time,” he said, “there was a queen …”
But I didn’t hear what came after that, because I was already asleep.