Page 65 of Forbidden Fruit
Anton, Livia and I sing loudly around the glass table on the patio on August 24th. My cheeks hurt at smiling so much over the past few weeks and I feel like I’m living a dream. It’s hard to let doubt settle and remind me that nothing is permanent, but for them, I do.
My beautiful girlfriend’s soft curls fall from her shoulders to shield her face as she blows out the twenty-five candles we lit on the chocolate cake I made with the children this morning while she was studying at the pool house. It doesn’t look as good as when she makes it, but it’s full of as much love.
Vanessa’s eyes shine when she looks up at me and murmurs her thanks before cutting a piece for Livia and Anton.
After they both give her their gift—the ugliest drawings ever made that we’ll still hang on the board Vanessa made me install in the office for this purpose—the children go back to enjoying the pool under our watchful eyes.
My heart rate kicks up when I hand her a box carefully wrapped with paper. “If you don’t like it, we can send it back,” I mumble, but keep my eyes locked on her hands, which are unwrapping her gift carefully.
Her skin glows with the bronzed summer colouring she got after so much time around the pool and at the beach. I want to kiss it and lick it until I’m satiated, but touching her is never enough. No matter how many times I caress her soft curves and kiss the column of her neck, I always need more. I don’t want to stop.
“Lino,” she gasps. Her eyes widen slightly before her beautiful laugh fills the space between us.
“Do you like it?” I ask.
“Do I like it? I love it.” She squeals with a wide grin as she hugs the gift against her chest.
My cheeks heat and I preen. She holds the black t-shirt up. The embroidered pomegranate gleams with the red pearls that make up the centre of the fruit. It’s soher. I knew when I saw it, she needed to wear it. She stands from her seat then plops herself on my lap, her lips falling to mine with so much gratitude it makes my heart melt.
I always thought I was defective and not capable of feeling emotions. Turns out I just locked them so deep inside I believe they didn’t exist. Vanessa’s patience and easy love is excavating them one by one, turning me into the man I always wanted to be.
“Thank you so much, Daddy. It’s so precious, I love it.”
“You deserve the world, Vanessa. I’ll do my best to give it to you.”
Our kiss is languid and softer this time, but it shatters me all the same. Her hands thread through my thick hair, anchoring me to her as she always does. When I’m in her arms, I sometimes think nothing can reach me. No pain or hurt or anxiety.
I spend the next few weeks between work, my children and the love of my life. Every day I discover new quirks about Vanessa. How she not only loves to wear fruits on her clothes but also could survive on eating them alone, and that her favourites are figs and watermelon. How she hates bell peppers with apassion. How she clenches and grinds her teeth in her sleep. I love everything about her, even if she gags and refuses to do any type of dishes by hand, even if she always leaves cupboard doors open or forgets to turn off the tap. As she becomes more comfortable around me, around us, in my home—our home—more of her personality shines through.
We decided she’d only sleep in my bed on weekend nights to help the children with the transition, and these have been my favourites. Her muffled cries of pleasure as she tries to stay quiet but can’t hold her moans live in my dreams and are the soundtrack of my days. The subtle marks of my ropes against her smooth olive skin have been some of the prettiest sights. I don’t tire of her and I don’t think I ever will.
But depression isn’t a short-term condition that passes easily or something that can be fixed by one person only. It’s laying in wait, ever patient. And I should have known it was going to come back to haunt me.
THIRTY-FIVE
DEPRESSION DOESN’T MAKE YOU WEAK
It’s a strange feeling to let go and do nothing when I have spent all my life so far working hard. Whether it was to help my mother, or under the weight of my aunt’s abuse, or after I came to Kalliste and started struggling just to make ends meet. I’ve never sat idle.
But with Lino by my side this summer, all I have to do is study. All I have to do is build the life I want. It’s liberating. And terrifying. I push thewhat ifsaway every day, and it gets easier whenever he looks at me like I’m his sun.
Every time he smiles at me, or watches with soft eyes as I play with Anton and Livia, my heart grows and my belief in us strengthens.
I’m sure. I’m sure I want him. I’m sure he wants me.
I’ve never felt so connected to someone. My skin has never been lit up and in need of only one person to extinguish it. I’ve certainly never been so ready to beg to be owned. I want a life for myself where I help people and I want Lino as my own. These two realities coexist when I thought they were incompatible.
I’m determined to see this through, even though I don’t really know what ‘this’ is or what it will look like when the bubble bursts. Because it will.
It’s the last week of August and Lino took time off to spend it with me and the children. They enjoyed summer school, but I believe they prefer to spend time with us. They’re napping under the shade of the fig tree that stands proudly at the back of the garden.
I look at Lino, who’s looking towards them with an intensity I haven’t seen for a few weeks. He rests his forearms on his knees, his naked chest turned golden with the sun. I abandon my study books on the table and walk to sit next to him, but he doesn’t turn his gaze to me. It’s like he isn’t aware of me and alarm bells ring in my head.
“Is there something wrong, Lino?” I ask softly, caressing his back up and down in a motion I hope soothes the anxiety that pours out of him.
He swallows thickly before asking me a question instead of answering mine. “Do you ever think that all the good in our lives is just a prelude to misery? A sick joke of the universe before we fall to despair?”
As much as I have found that Lino isn’t cold but rather measured, I have also noticed that his smiles can turn sad in the blink of an eye. This week especially, as we spend all our time together and the days pass to bring us closer to another school year, he feels… darker. Like the energy around him is back to what it was when I just met him.