I look up at him. I am so tempted. I can smell it and my stomach is growling. ‘I’m not really supposed to,’ I say.
‘It’s just a tiny bit. It won’t hurt you. You can have an extra helping of vitamin C or whatever tonight.’
I smile. ‘OK. It is grass fed and organic. So it can’t be that bad.’
We both cut a piece of meat and put it into our mouths at the same time. It melts in my mouth.
‘This,’ BJ says, ‘is the most delicious piece of meat I have ever tasted. Other than your pussy, of course.’
I laugh, but he is right. We savor it slowly. Afterwards, we walk into the forest. In late summer it is cool and beautiful. It is quiet now, but in the bushes and undergrowth there are badgers and foxes and deer. We follow the little path towards the clearing where BJ’s gardener has made a gazebo that he has covered with climbing roses. At this time of the year the roses are on their last showing. The area around it is full of petals giving off the last of their dying scent. We enter the gazebo and sit down.
It is so peaceful. For a long time we say nothing.
But there is something I want to confront him with. Something I must make BJ face. Ever since we found out about the cancer, BJ has never touched my stomach. Even when we are making love, he will avoid touching my belly. I unbutton my shirt from the bottom up and taking his hand, guide it towards my exposed belly. I feel the resistance and rigidity of his hand and look up to him beseechingly.
‘Please.’
He relents and allows me to put his hand on my stomach. On contact his eyes darken. We stare into each other’s eyes. Kick, Tommy, kick, I pray. There is no one else in the world but he and I. And then a kick. A hard one. We both feel it. Someone else has just entered into our world. We smile at each other. Our eyes filled with wonder.
‘He’s saying hello,’ I say.
‘Oh God!’ BJ mutters suddenly.
‘That’s our Tommy,’ I say.
‘That’s our Tommy,’ BJ repeats, his voice choked with emotion.
He pulls the edges of my shirt across the bulge of my stomach and carefully drags the buttons through the holes.
‘Come on, Princess. Let’s get you and little fella home.’
FORTY
Layla
“Life should be lived to the point of tears.”
—Albert Camus
There are only 20 days left on my calendar. It’s still dark as I descend the villa’s staircase, holding on to the rough, tree trunk banisters. I cross the beautifully decorated space. It has a stunningly sculpted dining table, giant seashells hanging from the ceiling, a simple but elegant arrangement of tiles and stones and wood seals on the open windows. Soundless on my bare feet I make for the sliding doors. This is a holiday villa in Tulum, Mexico that BJ has brought me to. It used to belong to the drug lord, Pablo Escobar.
‘Why Mexico?’ I asked excitedly in the plane.
‘It’s a surprise,’ he said with a smile.
And at midnight I found out. He had hired people to hang strings of blue lanterns all over the beach and a Mariachi band to play. There was a jug of non-alcoholic Margaritas on a mat on the beach.
‘Don’t you recognize it?’ he asked.
And it hit me then. Of course, he was making my favorite song come alive. Drinking Margaritas by a string of blue lights under the Mexican sky while listening to the Mariachi playing at midnight. Are you with me?
I cried then.
As I walk on the white sand it flows up through my toes. I stand at the water’s edge holding my belly. ‘Look where we are, Tommy.’ The cool morning breeze blows my hair from my face. I let the water rush up my toes and blanket my feet. It is incredibly sensuous. I am still standing there with my eyes closed when BJ comes to stand next to me. I look up at him. His eyebrows are drawn in a straight line making his face full of dark pools of shadow.
‘You looked like a mermaid from the window. Something so beautiful I couldn’t fathom touching,’ he says softly.
I smile at him. ‘Come and sit with me. It’s so peaceful here.’
We walk away from the water’s edge, sit on the white sand, and in perfect silence watch the sunrise together. Things are so different now. Every minute we spend together is like a precious gift. We were among the living. We had to do this. So we did it.
Red. Orange. Yellow. The sky becomes an amazing kaleidoscope of color. Next to us, there is a discarded Coke can. That, too, is life. I turn towards BJ. His face is golden, some shades of red.
‘I love you, BJ.’
He leans down as if he wants to see who I am and looks deeply into my eyes.
‘What is it?’ I ask him.
‘I was remembering that first night I found you in my bedroom.’