Page 72 of Forbidden Fruit
She waits for me at the local cafe, in the heart of Sant Armellu. The late September air is warm as I sit next to her on the terrace. I kiss her cheek and she jumps with a laugh so pure it clears my mounting headache slightly. Her bright yellow sundress and sheep wool cardigan brings a smile to my face and I absentmindedly rub the fabric against my fingers as I tell her about today’s exercises, then admit that Dr Armand also suggested antidepressants.
“How do you feel about that?” she asks, not an ounce of fear or judgement in her perfect almond eyes.
“I’m terrified. What if they don’t work? What if they do and Monica finds out and uses that to get custody of Anton and Livia?”
That’s the first thing I thought of when he mentioned them, but I can’t deny that I’m curious. If there is a fast-track to being better and more present for my family, on top of the hard work of looking into myself for all the ways depression manifests itself through me, I want to do it.
“Think about it, my love. You don’t have to rush anything,” she says, then kisses my lips softly. She tastes of coffee and a love so simple it makes my chest ache. I’m reminded with that simple peck on the lips that I have something worth fighting for smiling at me.
THIRTY-NINE
THAT BITCH…
The viper was just waiting. Biding her time. Building a case or whatever she thinks she has on me. A week later, on my next session with Dr Armand, Monica waits for me at the door before I can enter the building. Dressed in an impeccable dark blue jumpsuit and perched on heels so high she almost reaches my 6’1 height: the contrast to Vanessa is stark. I don’t want to compare them; they have nothing in common, but it just makes me want to be with my girl as soon as possible.
“Hello, Lino.” Her sultry voice filters through my skull, and I recoil.
Now that I have Vanessa in my life, I realise that I never even thought about what I had with Monica as love. It was what I thought I needed to do. It was lust and affection, maybe even desperation to feel supported, but never love. Never the sweet acceptance that comes with having a true partner. I could never be myself. I was what she wanted me to be.
Fuelled with disdain, I sneer. My voice is cold and devoid of anything but contempt when I address her. “You have the nerve to show up here. Aren’t you ashamed of yourself?”
“Why should I be? I’m not the one seeing a shrink,” she huffs. Her venom was never quite so blunt. If I had to guess, I thinkher encounter with Vanessa rattled her. Her words sting but they don’t hurt quite as much as they use to. Despite my anger against my ex-wife, I know she’s sad and desperately clinging to whatever she thinks she can get out of me. That was always her favourite game.
“I’m not ashamed of taking care of my health, Monica. Why are you here?” I ask, giving nothing away. Much like I did most of our time together.
Her smile falls and she slaps a bundle of paper to my chest. “I’m here for what’s mine, Lino. Starting with the house and the children.”
I laugh, deep and sinister. “Your delusion knows no bounds. No judge on the island will give you custody after you abandoned them to do God knows what.”
“I was finding myself again,” she yells.
A hand comes to my shoulder as Vanessa slides up next to me. “What’s going on here?” she asks as she eyes my ex-wife with suspicion.
I kiss her forehead and Monica’s face falls at the blatant proof of affection I’m giving someone who isn’t her. I turn my attention back to her as I hold Vanessa’s hand. “I don’t give a shit what you want. You lost any chance of getting anything from me the moment you walked out on Anton and Livia. If you’re smart, you’ll settle on seeing a moderator and supervised visitation. That’s generous of me and I’m doing it for them. Don’t fool yourself into thinking otherwise. Now, if you’ll excuse us, we have somewhere to be.”
I press into her space and she moves to let us into the building, fumbling for a response, but I don’t give her the chance to speak. I close the door on her fuming face. Before I can walk up the stairs that lead to Dr Armand’s office on the second floor of the old building, Vanessa holds me in place and crashes her mouth to mine. The kiss steals my breath. And I don’t care.
“Is it wrong that I’m turned on, right now?” she asks, breathlessly.
Her hands turn frantic as she grips my shirt and pulls me closer to her. Our tongues tangle and I lose myself. From the very moment I saw her, I lost any sense of decorum when it comes to her. I press her harder against the wall in the shadowy corner of the hallway.
“Do you need Daddy to take care of that needy pussy,zitella?”
“Oh fuck, yes. It turns me on when you get all possessive. And when you swear.” Her cheeks pinken and I grin, kissing along the column of her neck like a man starved.
“Do you, now?” I taunt. “You want me to tell you how hard and fast I’m going to fuck that tight little cunt? How I’ll have you dripping cum while you wait in the doctor’s office, all prim and proper but covered in her daddy’s spent?”
She moans and nods, then fumbles to get my cock out of my pants. Bunching up her dress, she slides her panties to the side, desperate for it, and we both groan as I slide in with no resistance. “Such a dirty girl,zitella. Feel how wet you are at the thought of me breeding you?”
Just like I promise, I take her hard and fast. I lift her ass up and she wraps herself around me, clinging to my chest with clawing hands. Her finger nails drag against my scalp and neck and I know I’ll have marks but I don’t fucking care. Let my therapist and the nurse and the entire fucking city know who I belong to.
“Touch your clit,zitella,” I command, and she snakes a hand in between us.
I pound into her, her walls clamping down around me, making me see stars and coming fast and hard, like I promised. Her legs wobble as we let go of each other. Vanessa gives me a dopey smile and we fix our clothing like teenagers caught red-handed. We weren’t, which is a good thing because I don’t think I could have stopped. I feel so light and young. Not even the bad memory of our interaction with my ex can dampen to my mood.
Ishould have held onto that thought.
We’re picking up Anton and Livia from school, as has become our routine, when Monica steps out of a black Sedan and walks to us, cooing and calling out for them. “My babies, hi,” she says enthusiastically as she bends her knees.