I
came around the corner and saw the black Mustang in my driveway. The shot of
adrenaline down my spine was electric. I
felt it trickle like warm water but still managed to break out in goose
bumps. I pulled into the driveway beside
the car I’d seen every day for the past month and killed the engine.
I
sat there a moment, simply staring at it as though it might disappear if I
blinked. Gathering my things I slipped
out of my little white Kia Sportage and locked the door, all but skittering
around the front to peer into the driver side window of the Mustang.
This
man had followed me for so long that I’d grown comfortable, and now the thought
of actually talking to him had me very nervous.
I wasn’t a scared person. I’d taken self-defense classes and I practiced
what I’d learned a few times a week but this whole situation had me feeling
unprepared. Why now? Why the hell was he in my house and how did
he get in?
I walked to my door and stood there staring at it for God
knows how long. Probably just a minute
or so but it felt like days, days that I stood there with my keys in my hand
staring at the red paint I’d been so pleased with on the split Dutch door. Slowly reaching out, I put my key in the lock
and turned it, hearing the dead bolt slide and I jumped as it clicked into its
open position.
Calm
down girl, it’s probably nothing. I could hear my own voice, but even in my
head it wasn’t convincing. I turned the
knob and pushed the door open but I didn’t go in; I couldn’t seem to make my
legs move. Who the hell put glue on my
doorstep? OK not really glue, but fear
and glue often have the same effect.
“Are
you going to come in?” The voice drifted
from my living room, which couldn’t be seen from the front door, and again I
jumped. My breathing was shallow and I
was certain I was going to hyperventilate.
So why then was I actually considering moving forward and not running
away? I should have turned around,
gotten back in my car and high-tailed it out of there. Well, you know that saying about
curiosity? I was just hoping that today
I wasn’t the cat.
I suddenly remembered how to put one foot in front of the
other and set my Birkenstock clad feet into motion, moving into my entryway,
soundless on the honey colored tile.
Without turning, I closed the door and hung my purse and workbag on the
coat rack behind the door. As an impulse
I picked up my bright red umbrella from the corner where it lived, giving a
couple of test jabs with it in a moment of delusional samurai prowess.
I hadn’t wanted to go to the party;
I’m just not a party going girl. The music was always too loud, the
people too drunk and too obnoxious; but it was my sister’s 25th
birthday party, what choice did I have?
I arrived late, hoping to stay for
an hour or so and then slip right back out; Jules knew I hated parties so I
figured she’d anticipate my early escape. I heard the music the moment I
got out of my car half a block away, the bass notes moving through the air like
ripples on a pond and with a sigh I forced myself to walk toward the noise.
Climbing the brick stairs I opened
the heavy white door and almost staggered when the music flowed over me,
cringing involuntarily. People were packed tightly into the space and
they had to move just so I could get inside and close the door, many casting
annoyed looks at me that I had interrupted the bouncing they called dancing.
I didn’t hear my sister over the
thump of the music so I wasn’t expecting the hug I found myself in that was
almost a flying tackle. I hugged her back and then smiled into her
unabashedly enthusiastic face, her liquid brown eyes sparking. I expected
her to fade back into the crowd as she usually did, but instead she took me by
the hand and dragged me upstream, against the push of dancing bodies, and into
the kitchen where it was only moderately quieter.
Jules pointed at the liquor bottles
that covered the counter like a disorderly army, dropped a kiss on my cheek and
then disappeared. I smiled to myself and shook my head, how could two
people come from the same stock, be raised by the same parents and yet be so
completely different?
Ignoring the few people who were
milling around the kitchen, I made myself a Midori sour on the rocks and added
a splash of black cherry vodka to the top. Holding the crystal class I
turned and made my way to the back door, pushing my way through the crowd and
continuing to walk until the body count thinned and the noise faded to a more
bearable volume.
I stopped where the lawn ended and
weathered planks leading to the beach began, kicking off my shoes and making my
way to the sand, sighing when I sank into the soft grains. I walked
quietly to my favorite spot among the dunes, sheltered from the wind, and sank
down with a contented sigh.
The rhythmic sound of the waves
lulled me as they advanced and receded, advanced and receded and I closed my
eyes. I was so lost in the ocean’s song I didn’t hear the man approach;
it was only when I felt the weight of his stare that I opened my eyes and found
him sitting between me and the water.
The color of his eyes was lost in
the faint moonlight, I could only tell that he had dark hair that hung in a
shaggy fringe across his forehead, and the silver light caught only the high angles
of his face. I wasn’t alarmed at his sudden appearance; I didn’t feel my
usual sense of self consciousness as I usually did any time a man was within 20
feet of me, instead I felt completely at ease. It was an unexpected
feeling.
“The ocean, she speaks to you,” he
said, his voice silky and laced with something foreign, sending goose bumps
down my arms.
“No,” I replied softly, amazed my
voice hadn’t fled, “She sings to me.”
“Then shall we dance to her
tune?” He rose to his feet and reached out his hands to me.
I set my glass aside and reached up,
sliding my fingers across his palms. He gripped my hands and pulled me to
my feet, not releasing his hold on me as he walked backward toward the water
where the sand was firmer. When the ocean licked at our ankles he pulled
me closer, his arms snaking around my waist and pulling me against the length
of his body.
I wrapped my arms around his
shoulders as we began to sway to the song of the sea that only we could hear,
hearts hammering and breath quickening. In what was probably the bravest
moment of my life I laced my fingers into his thick hair and pulled his mouth
to mine, tentative at first until he eagerly responded.
We touched with anxious hands,
tongues tasting and bodies yearning to be one. I learned as we went,
savoring the feeling of euphoria that rose up in me, giving back to him all I
could.
I’d never been with a man before, no
one had ever been interested, but I followed his lead and found the dance easy
to learn. In the thundering rise of our passion he filled me, holding me
tight and sending us over the edge into a sea of pleasure; my innocence ended
at that moment.