There were just a few more stones to lay down and then she'd be done. She pushed the stone she was currently working with and fit it right next to the one she laid previously. She let it drop and then wiped the sweat from her forehead that was threatening to fall into her eyes. It was a hot and sunny day. She was happy to be working outside, especially since the house didn't have AC. She leaned back and grabbed her bottle of water. She felt its cool temperature fill the inside of her mouth. It felt good. She winced as she swallowed the now tepid water. Despite living there for six months, she still wasn't used to the taste of it. She couldn't describe the difference from the water back home in Ottawa, but this just couldn't quench her thirst. Still, she took big gups as the sun continued to encourage the sweat forming and dripping down her back and in between her breasts. She inspected her work as she dropped the bottle back on the ground. The stones seemed level and in pretty good symmetry. It wasn't perfect, but pretty damn close. She smiled and laughed as she recalled the day the stones had been dropped off. Two burly Italian men had come and been confused when they weren't received by a man. They seemed even more confused when she'd begun helping them transfer the stones from the bed of the truck to the backyard. Though she was getting good at basic Italian, having practiced with Gianna numerous times, she could only pick out a few words as the men joked among themselves. Piccola donna, they'd said. Little woman. She laughed thinking about it and then knelt down to get back to work.
"Vivi?" She stopped. She recognized that voice, but it couldn't be. "Viv?"She slowly turned and felt her breath leave her as her eyes fell on Asher. He was standing tall, his hands in his pockets. Casual, as though he'd just been inside looking for her to ask her where the sugar might be. He gave a half-smile and nodded at the patio. "Looks good." Her breath returned to her as she used her hands to push herself up from her knees. There was a sudden pain, but it disappeared as quickly as it came. Asher moved as though to help her but she put up a hand to stop him.
"Don't walk on it," she explained. He removed his hands from his pockets and put them up as though in surrender. Is this what he came for, she wondered. Surrender?
"The place looks good," he motioned to the house. "I can't believe how much you've done." She nodded. It had been six months. What did he expect? That she was just going to come here and sulk?
"I've still got a lot to do here," she motioned to the patio and turned her back to him. It was strange seeing him. For months, she'd dreamed he would just show up and all of their issues would be magically resolved. But now he was there, she didn't know what to say or do. She didn't even know how to feel. She'd assumed, or hoped there would be a sense of relief, but she could only sense anger. She didn't even want to look at him.
"I can see that," he finally responded. "Do you want some help?" She did.
"Nope." She moved to the few stones left at the side. "I've got it, thanks." She could still feel him standing there as she picked one up. It felt heavier than any of the others she'd picked up. Still, she carried it over to the waiting space and let it flop down to the earth. She turned her head to sneak a peek at Asher to find him walking back into the house. She sighed and went back to work.
For the next hour, she worked on the patio, setting the remainder of the stones and pouring the crushed stone in between them. When she finished brushing the excess off, she stepped back to admire her work. It really did look good. But now, she couldn't help but notice the imperfections. Those that likely wouldn't be there had she had help. Help from Asher. She tossed the broom to the ground and sighed, taking a swig from her water bottle. She stared at the patio, a fire burning within her. The fire was likely to do with Asher and not the patio though, and she knew it. She'd hoped the hard labor would calm her nerves and dim her anger enough for her to have at least some desire to speak with him, but it was just as strong, if not stronger. She slowly tidied up her work, put her tools away, and covered the remaining small mound of crushed rock with a tarp before she made her way back into the house. By the time she walked in, the sun was beginning to fall behind the trees. The lights were on in the kitchen and Asher stood at the stove, cooking, his back to her. A warm and familiar aroma filled her nostrils. The home made pasta maker and counter were covered in flour. She rolled her eyes. Did he think making one of his delicious home made meals was going to make up for everything? Without a word, she crept past him into the living room. She looked through the double doors across the room to see the dining room set with candles waiting to be lit. She continued on to the bathroom and closed the door. It slammed harder than she'd meant it to, but didn't care.
The hot water felt so welcoming on her muscles and skin as she climbed into the shower. She reached for the lavender body wash, hoping the scent would work its usual magic by instilling calm and relaxation. She took a deep breath in and it seemed to be working when she heard a click from outside the shower. She stopped, but heard nothing else. She moved the shower curtain to find a glass of red wine waiting for her on the counter. Another gesture from Asher, she surmised. He'd done this countless times back home. After a long day of work, a trying day with the kids, or sometimes, just because. She wanted to smile, soak in the kindness, but it felt tainted and was hard to accept. She quickly closed the curtain and resumed her shower. Her mind filled with questions as she washed the work and sweat from her body. Why hadn't he told her he was coming? Had she missed a text or email somehow? Was he there for good? Or simply a visit? She quickly finished her shower and then went into her room. She stopped when she saw Asher's suitcase on what would be his side of the bed. Did he expect her to let him into her bed? Or was it their bed? They were still married, after all. She took a step and then stopped when she heard herself asking, did she want him in her bed. She pushed the question aside and quickly dressed. She needed to find her phone to check her messages and emails.
When she came out of her room, wine glass in hand, the delicious aroma felt thicker in the air. She felt her stomach pang for food but ignored it. She'd missed his cooking, that was certain. Though she'd been the main cook for the first dozen years of their marriage, he'd taken an avid interest and found a love for it in the last several. She'd relished in his delight, savoring every meal he'd cooked. He had a natural talent for it, she'd had to admit. She shook her head as though to bring herself back to the present moment. Her phone was in the kitchen. She took a big sip of wine, a deep breath, steadied herself, and then stepped forward. Asher was still at the stove. There was a pot and pan over the flames and he was working on the contents of both simultaneously. She spotted her phone on the edge of the counter and without a word, grabbed it.
"Feel better?" he asked without turning. She froze and looked at him. He turned his head and smiled at her, as handsome as ever. "After your shower. Feel better?" She nodded, clutched her phone in hand, turned and walked away. As she made her way into the living room, she scrolled through her messages until she found Asher's name. Sure enough, their last text conversation had been over a week ago, without any word of his arrival. And he'd only brought a suitcase, she pondered. She closed her texts and was about to open her email when she heard his footsteps behind her. He smiled as he carried two plates past her into the dining room. "Dinner is served," he said with a terrible english accent and then laughed. He stood before one of the empty seats and waited. "Please," he said, motioning for her to join him. She walked into the dining room, placing her phone gently on the table as she sat down. The dish looked amazing. A rosee-sauced home made pasta with shrimp.
"Thank you," she finally muttered, unable to be impolite.
"My pleasure," he said, lifting his wine glass toward her. She raised hers toward his, but refused to clink them. He took a sip and then placed his glass back on the table. She slowly loaded her fork as he patiently waited for her approval, as always. She pushed the food into her mouth and couldn't deny how good it was. The pasta was cooked to perfection, the shrimp tender and flavorful, the sauce thick and coating each morsel perfectly, and the grated cheese added just the right amount of saltiness. She gave him a half smile and nodded. His smile widened, pleased to have her approval, and then also began eating. An awkward silence hung between them as they ate, though he looked at ease. This angered her and she sighed as she readied for another bite. "I like what you've done with the kitchen." She nodded, still unable or unwilling to speak. "You've been busy." She continued nodding. "That's good." He cleared his throat, finally showing some discomfort. Good, she thought. "I've been busy too," he continued, wanting to fill the silence. "Work is good. MCI has been really busy, which is great." She continued eating in silence. "Have you spoken to Oscar lately?" he asked, but he wasn't looking at her anymore. She nodded.
"We texted last week," she finally answered as she brought her wine glass to her lips. "He's planning to come here for Christmas."
"That's great! Hopefully he can get the time off."
"I told him it doesn't have to be right at Christmas. He's welcome anytime."
"Of course," Asher agreed. He took a sip of wine and turned back to his food. "And Emara?"
"Of course I invited her also." She didn't mean to sound so defensive but could hear it in her voice. He slowed his movements, clearly having picked up on her tone. He didn't say anything for a moment, pushing his noodles around his plate.
"Perhaps I should come too?" Was it a question? She couldn't tell. She dropped her fork onto her plate, sighed and rolled her eyes.
"Is that what you want? To visit for special occasions?" Her tone was severe, unpleasant and likely intimidating, but she didn't care. He finally met her eyes with his.
"Is that what you want?" he asked. She sighed again, pushing her plate away from her. She stood, pushing her chair back forcefully and it made a screeching sound. She lifted her plate and left the room. When she entered the kitchen, she slammed the plate onto the counter next to the sink. She took the final sip from her wine and placed it next to the plate as Asher walked in. He gently placed his plate and wine glass next to hers without a word. Beyond frustrated, she turned to him.
"What do you want, Asher?"
"I don't know. That's why..."
"No," she interrupted him. "You want me to make the decision so that you don't have to. You can just react to it."
"What do you mean?"
"If I say you should stay, you'll find a reason as to why you can't, and make me out to be the irrational dreamer who isn't logical or fair."
"And if..."
"And if I say you should... I mean shouldn't stay," she stumbled on her words, her emotions getting the better of her. "Then I'm the bad guy. I'm the one ending things which makes it easier for you."
"I don't want you to be the bad guy," he responded calmly. His calm was making her uneasy. Typically he was the one to go from zero to a hundred at the drop of a hat. She wanted to appreciate his efforts, to applaud him, to try and have a rational conversation. But, her emotions were running hot and she was having difficulty keeping them at bay. Her heart was pounding as fast and as hard as ever. There was a crushing feeling surrounding her lungs, making it hard to breathe. In addition to an overwhelming melon sized lump in her throat that would only release if she cried. She took a deep breath and could feel her body trembling as she slowly released it.
"What do you want?" she repeated. She stared at him, waiting for an answer. His eyes were locked on hers. She could sense their want to dart left and right, searching for a response but somehow, he kept looking into her eyes. And there was a softness there, an unexpected kindness. "Asher," she needed an answer. He moved so quickly she didn't have time to react. Before she knew it, she was in his arms. He was holding her tight and it felt good. Though a part of her wanted to push him off of her and scream, and another wanted to collapse and give in, she remained rigid and still.
"You," he finally said. "I want you." She felt tears welling up in her eyes. She felt as though her heart were about to explode, and her lungs were about to give out, and as though the lump in her throat had just lept into her mouth, looking for a way out. She did everything she could to hold it all back. He pulled away from her and took her face in his hands. He held it tightly, as though desparate, but gently. "I miss you," he whispered. And then he kissed her. Although she still felt such strong anger and hurt, she couldn't hold anything in anymore. She gave into his arms, his lips, his kindness, and let go. She wrapped her arms around his neck and returned the kiss with all the passion she felt. Tears were streaming down her face because she couldn't deny that she missed him and still loved him more than anyone else she'd ever known.
They continued kissing as they undressed eachother and made their way to her bedroom. They made passionate love, and though she wasn't on auto-pilot, though she relishing in every second of his exploring her body and the intense love she could see and feel in him, she couldn't keep her mind from racing. What did this mean? What would it mean to him? Did he want to stay, or try and convince her to go back to Ottawa? So many thoughts, feelings and questions were still whirling through her mind when she could sense he was about to finish. She held him close as his body tensed and then relaxed. When he kissed her, she returned each one. A quick thought jarred her as he rolled to his side of the bed. What did she want? Did she want him to stay? How did she feel about it all? He let out a long sigh of satisfaction, took her hand in his and kissed her fingers.
"I love you," he whispered. She turned to look at him. He was lying on his back, eyes closed.
"I love you too," she told him, and she meant it. She just wasn't sure if she also meant it as a goodbye.
Ⓒ January 2022. Beki Lantos. All Rights Reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, or transmitted in any form by any means without prior written permission of the author.
Commentaires