We step onto the lanai. And though the area is crowded, I can still make out marble planters filled with juniper and lilac. I find myself people watching, waiting to pick up on something sordid, but it’s only conversation anddrinks.
“You know I’m not partaking in any of this,” Isay.
His eyes go soft, and he clutches my hand in his. “You’re not at allcurious?”
“Not about this. But about you, yes.” I glance around at the people paired off in groups of two and four. “Before me, who would you have brought to thisparty?”
“Noone.”
“Everyone else here seems to belong withsomeone.”
He grins. “Most do. Most people here areswingers.”
I don’t blink. I barely pause. “And youare…”
Elijah leads us down the concrete steps, past the trickling fountain and rose bushes, and straight to the cobblestone patio surrounding the kidney-shaped pool. He motions for me to take a seat on an emptylounge.
“I am one of the few single men respected enough to play.” He sits next to me, winding a piece of my hair around his finger. “No strings attached. No jealousy. Simple fantasyfulfillment.”
“Butwhy…” The why has been eating at me since dayone.
His brows wrinkle. “Because, Demi, sex wants very little inreturn.”
Dropping my tendril of hair, he looks down, fiddling with his cufflink. I take a moment to study him. To examine the way he moves. Suddenly, he doesn’t seem socertain.
I sweep a finger over his arm. “Is this your way of avoidingrelationships?”
His gaze lifts to mine, and there’s something hollow there I’ve not noticed before. Something that causes a small twinge of pain. “I do it to avoid disappointing anyone. I’ve done enough of that in mylife.”
“How couldyouever disappointanyone?”
A vacant smile shapes his lips. “Because some people’s expectations are more than one person canmeet.”
I comb my hand through his thick hair, and he leans into my touch. “Please tell me. I want toknow.”
He leans over his knees and clasps his hands as though in prayer, then nods once. “My mother was a concert cellist. When I was five, our home caught fire. My father saved me, then went back in for my mother, but he never came out.” He drags in an unsteady breath, and I rub my hand over his tense shoulders. “Somehow, my mother survived. The burns she suffered were disfiguring. Her hands, of course, were useless which ended hercareer.”
He still hasn’t looked up, and I struggle to find words to ease the pain. I’ve experienced loss, and maybe that’s why I’m not so good at handling it. I’m aware no words exist that serve as a soothing balm. “I’m so sorry,” Iwhisper.
He glances up, his head still bowed. “She blamed me for my father’s death. Had I not been alive, he would have saved her instead of me. And that’s a lot of guilt for a five-year-old to livewith.”
“Elijah…that’s not yourfault.”
He nods solemnly. “I eventually figured that out. But even then, even though she hated me, she missed her music so much that all I wanted to do was learn the cello for her. A child simply wants to make their mother proud. But nothing was ever good enough.” His voice is strained. He’s at the point of breaking, and all I can do is touch him to let him now I’mhere.
“That’s normal to want herapproval.”
“Every time I play, all I can hear is her telling me what a disappointment I am, a waste.” He shakes his head, and all at once his resolve returns. “I never want to be so unappreciative to someone who lovesme.”
I scratch my fingers through his hair, swallowing around the lump in my throat. He grew up unable to please the person children desperately seek the approval of. Jesus. All he wants to do is please someone. It makes so much sense. We’re both total messes. I guess when the walls humans tend to build around themselves are torn away, most people are broken in some way, shape, orform.
Everything is a perception, very few things are thetruth.
I touch my palm to his chest. “If this isn’t enough to please someone, Elijah. They aren’t worth yourefforts.”
The silence in this moment seems to stretch out foreternity.
Elijah makes me feel safe and beautiful. Wanted. Alive. And it terrifies me. Given enough time I’ll forget the things someone says, but I’ll never forget the way they make me feel. I’ve never forgotten my father, Elijah’s never forgotten his mother, and I’ll never forgethim.
