Be a Doll(91)

She took a step back and tugged on the hem of the hoodie as if it’d magically make it longer. It only served to uncover even more of her shoulder.

“Mathis,’’ she said and then surprised us both by laughing. Her eyes widened at hearing the sound coming from her pretty mouth. She put a hand in front of her mouth and then stopped laughing. The silence seemed deafening in comparison and it was like snatching me from a warm place to throw me outside with nothing on when there’s a blizzard. Her laugh, a laugh because of me, made me light. The moment we shared on the couch and the shower already made me feel lighter than I had felt in a long time, but her laugh made me remember what it was like to be burden free.

Since we had married, things had moved inside of me, changing and morphing into something else, something I’d call new, but was old and long forgotten. I was slowly reminded what it was like before Max to be happy, or as close to it a man like me could be.

“You have a beautiful laugh,’’ I said and then walked out of the dressing room, eyes downcast. Shit, everything was too much. Too soon. Too…

Bare feet padded on the floor, getting closer to me until they stopped behind me. Her eyes on me burned, warming me almost uncomfortably. If I wasn’t careful it was a sensation I would soon become addicted to.

“It’s been a long time since I last laughed,’’ she said, her quiet voice soothing the rawness of the feelings rising inside me like a tide threatening to crumble the city I had built on the ruins left by Max’s death. “Anyway,’’ she went on, her voice louder as if pushing away whatever just happened. “I’m starving. I’m going to check what Mrs. McCarthy cooked for us. Do you… do you want to come with me?’’

I stood still for an instant before I turned around to face Lila and on her face I only saw uncertainty and a figuratively extended hand. “I could eat,’’ I said, a bit puzzled to find out that she wasn’t trying to put space between us. Usually, she tended to avoid spending as much time with me as possible, unless when she was trying to get me to say more than I should.

She offered me a small smile that quickly vanished and turned around, still tugging on the hoodie to keep her perfect round ass covered. I followed her once she left the bedroom, my eyes fixed on her ass, hoping I’d get a peek. The hope of getting a glimpse of her body underneath only made the desire more pronounced.

Lila went straight to the fridge once we entered the kitchen and gasped when she opened it. I saw her little toes painted in a dark color curling on the floor. “It’s cold!’’ she blurted and quickly grabbed something inside and closed the door with her elbow.

I leaned against the kitchen bar and kept my eyes on her, watching intently as she moved around, uncovering Mrs. McCarthy’s plate and humming in contentment. Her every move was flowing seamlessly, elegant in her every breath. My fascination only grew as days passed.

“Pork roast with potatoes,’’ she announced and glanced at me to gauge my reaction.

“Her pork roast is always a delight,’’ I approved and went to retrieve some plates and cutlery in the appropriate cupboards to place them on the kitchen bar in front of the high stools while Lila went to warm up our meal.

“You trust her a lot, don’t you?’’ she asked, her attention solely on the pork roast while I tensed, pouring us a glass of wine from an already opened bottle to complement our meal.

My grip around the bottle tightened, but I soon relaxed. Lila was my wife and she couldn’t uncover any more of my secrets because I had none. She knew my core and I was still standing. It hadn’t killed me, it only made me feel more lost than I ever thought possible, even years after losing my better half.

“She used to work for my parents. My mother wanted Mrs. McCarthy to come and work for me when I bought this place. In hindsight, I suppose it was her way of ensuring that her son was taken care of.’’ I sat on the bar stool and watched blankly as Lila served our plates and rounded the bar to come and sit next to me, in front of her steaming plate.

“It’s a really sweet gesture.’’ She smiled at me and took her wine glass, raising it in a silent toast before her pillowy lips closed around the glass to take a small sip.

“My mother had been doing everything she could while giving me space I wanted and forced on her.’’ Fork in hand, I pushed around the meat on my plate. My appetite had abated. “I don’t deserve that kind of devotion.’’

“Sylvie is the kind of mother who gives her love without condition, just like it’s supposed to be.’’ She took a bite, but kept her eyes on me.

“I’m the reason for her losing her son, Lila.’’

“Because you were the one pushing your brother to go surfing?’’ She shook her head and stopped eating, dropping her fork and knife on the plate without checking if she was making a mess. Her eyes turned hard on me. “Tell me, at thirteen I’m sure you had to ask permission to your parents before you went surfing. Am I right?’’

I nodded and rubbed at my throbbing temple. Thinking back to that day never failed to bring out my darkest thoughts, but for once I didn’t feel like going off on Lila or losing control. I wasn’t breaking down. My breathing was even and my body didn’t shake. For once, the pain I felt kept on the inside, a wound that would never fully close, but was on the way to scarring. And it scared me. Somehow, it felt as if I was losing more of my twin brother, as if letting go would snatch away more of him than I had already lost. As irrational as it was, it made my palms sweaty as stress started to come.