He scoops me up into his arms, my legs wrapping around his waist. Our connection never breaks as he walks us into the bedroom. He lays me down in our bed and continues his delicious assault.
Slowly he undresses me…
Shoulders bare.
Soft fingers tease at my collarbone.
Skirt removed.
Goose bumps run up the length of my porcelain legs.
His eyes sweep over me. “Beautiful.”
He lays his body on mine, drawing me closer. Waves of emotions rush over me. Love, Trust.
He is my soul.
Feathery kisses…
Bodies entwined…
Breathless anticipation…
“I missed this, I missed you, Ava.”
Our bodies come together in sweet perfection, tears well in my eyes, and fall slowly down my cheek. His fingers gently touching my face…tracing the tears. This moment unlike any before.
“I love you. I love you. I love you,” I say as we join. Melding into each other, rising together to crescendo. My body soars.
My kisses become ravenous..
Tugging.
Nipping.
His name falls frantically from my lips as I break apart. At this moment, in this second…we only exist together.
One.
HOURS LATER, I find myself standing in front of the painting, and I stare at her. Alexandre walks up behind me. He trails soft kisses on the bare skin on my shoulder.
“What are you thinking?” he whispers in my ear.
“I thought at first this painting symbolized my weakness, anyone’s weakness. But now I see that each flaw makes someone more perfect.”
Some might think I should get rid of it, purge myself of my troubled past. But for me, she is a good reminder. I think she will always give me strength when I stray in my thoughts about myself or forget the importance of what the past has done for my present.
Looking at her now reminds me how far I fell, and how I found my way back and persevered. I tried so long to be ideal, now I just want to be me. Sometimes I just sit here and lose myself in the painting.
She is an imperfect truth. She is the culmination of tiny fractures making one perfectly imperfect person. To me…she is beautiful.
My failures don't define me. Rather they are what make me who I am, and I strive to live each day imperfectly.
“Ava.” I feel his gentle fingers tickle my skin as he places and clasps a necklace on me. I lightly lift my finger to examine the delicate piece of jewelry that adorns my neck. A beautiful rose gold skeleton key sparkles brilliantly as the light reflects off the diamonds that decorate the surface.
“What's this for?” I ask.
“You always said you felt you were locked in a cage...I’m giving you back the key. Only you can dictate your life.”
I laugh softly.
“Why are you laughing?”
I turn my wrist ever so slightly; dangling alongside my watch is a tarnished key bracelet. A sly smile spreads across my face as I move the bracelet and my watch to display a tiny black skeleton key tattoo hidden beneath the timepiece.
“I already released myself from my self-imposed prison. I hold the key to my happiness. This bracelet…I had it made. It has the word ‘imperfect’ etched into the surface. It is to give me the strength and courage to own my flaws.” I look up at him. Our eyes lock, peace and serenity flow through me to him. He shoots me a knowing smile and speaks…
“Don’t mistake-” His lips tickle me as he places a delicate kiss on the tattoo. “Coincidence for fate.” The symbol of his love releases a wave of pure adoration through me. I sigh in satisfaction as he turns me and takes my hand in his, leading me to the couch. As we sit down I turn to him.
“Would you take it back? Would you change anything? I know that if I could press rewind on my life, I wouldn’t. Every move brought me here, brought me closer to this.”
My body trembles slightly under his warm fingertips that are running up my arms to my neck. He places his thumb under my chin, turning me toward his face, his vivid green eyes meet mine.
“Sometimes we have to get lost to be found, I wouldn’t change a thing, every moment every gesture, brought you here, lead you to this particular juncture in your life.” He agrees leaving me in a perpetual state of disbelief by how wonderful he is. “I love you fiercely Ava, I always have.”
Alexandre reaches over to the console table and grabs my laptop computer. As he sits next to me, he places the computer on the ottoman directly in front of me. I look at the computer, then at him smiling at me. My thoughts drift to Dr. Singer…
Dr. Singer. I laugh to myself as I think of the task she has outlined for me. Journaling my life, purging my soul. She says it will be cathartic, only time will tell…
Deep down I believe I have a story to tell. Not just about not giving up on what is right before you, but that there are always things that come along in your life that will make you reevaluate. My story is just a journey for me. But if one woman hears my tale and is better for it, it will be worth it. I will get my own form of justice.