A Song In The Daylight Part 22

What? What? he kept saying. You like touching me? Why? Tell me why.

Now she was the one who couldn't speak. She wasn't ready for the blitz, for the groping hands and the seeking mouth seeking her mouth, licking her b.r.e.a.s.t.s, wait, wait, she kept saying, trying to hold on to him, to caress him, to keep him inside her surprised and stroking palms for just a moment longer, wait, wait, and he kept saying, wait for what? Pushing inside, inside, inside.

Oh G.o.d, no honest, wait.

Wait for what, Larissa?

She wasn't ready for the klieg light of his unstoppable youth, ashamed of how uncontrollably she was moaning. Once she started to come, she panted for him to stop, but he wouldn't listen, and she kept coming and coming. I can't take it anymore, she kept saying.

Sure you can, he kept saying back.

I can't take it anymore, she kept whispering underneath him on his bed. Honest, I can't, on her back, on her stomach, on her hands and knees, spread out, stretched out, drawn, quartered, blankets thrown off, just the sheet on a mattress near the wall, her arms outstretched above her head, searching. Not even a headboard for her desperate hands to grasp. She tried, she really did, to be circ.u.mspect in her vocal yearnings, the windows were ajar, but she wanted to scream, to cry out, I can't believe what's happening, I can't believe the fantastic of it, the joy of it.

No more, no more, she kept gently pleading. Kai, stop, please, no morea More, more, she kept gently pleading. Kai, don't stop, please, morea She was soaked, wet, and he was soaked, dripping sweat on her in the spectacle of his flagrant exertions.

Help me, please, oh G.o.d, help me. When will you come?

You want me to come?

If you don't soon, I won't be able to walk out of here.

Larissa, he whispered, and Larissa was coming even before he finished the question, do you want to walk out of here?

He was so beautiful to look at, but never more so than when he was naked. To see a twenty-year-old man nude, erect, that was a pleasure and a privilege Larissa didn't expect to get again. There wasn't a soft line to him, except for the pulpy excess of his mouth. He was reed lean, the arms that lifted stone like stone but on a sinewy body, not a gym rat's body. A body that worked for its living outdoors in the heat of dust, in the bowl of mortar. Not a sc.r.a.p of extra on him anywhere, except in the extra there was too much and too young of. He really was the most beautiful man.

His youth became her. How else could it be for her when faced with the voluminous fire of a rapacious boy, who had it instant-on, like gas logs, press a b.u.t.ton and voila! at maximum volume in seconds? There was no start-up, it was just up. It had been a long time for Larissa, living inside such adolescent flame. Eighteen years married, and before that young and incautious, just parading her new-found s.e.xual freedom around the campusa"that wasn't the same thing as being in love, was it?

It wasn't this.

Nothing was this.

She had been in love with Jared, though in the geographical landscape of her heart, that love now seemed as remote as New Hebrides was from Summit. New Hebrides? Exactly. An island in Micronesia.

"Nothing can be this f.u.c.king good."

Larissa couldn't believe it wasn't she who had uttered those words.

She was crying.

No, don't cry. Come. But don't cry.

Why can't I do both, Kai?

He tasted of mint gum, of black coffee, she thought faintly of cigarettes. What did she taste of? Was he the kind who would tell her? She couldn't ask any questions now; she was immersed at the moment in answers.

She feared that when it was overa"and eventually, it was overa"she would be deflated by her remembrance of things past, but that was not to be. She kept tracing the outline of his damp stomach with her fingers. He had a long scar on his left lower abdomen. What's that from?

Oh that? WellaI was on a demon ride, he said. Fell off my bike.

Demon ride?

Yeah. Riding the motorcycle in the dark with the lights off. Crashed into the side of a volcanic cliff.

Hurt?

Yeah. Pretty bad. He got quiet. I had a girl with me. She got hurt, too. He got quieter.

Is she okay?

Pause. Depending on what your definition of OK is.

Is she OK by any definition?

I guess the answer to that would be no. But she did make it out alive from the accident. So that's something, I suppose.

Larissa could tell he didn't want to talk about it. Leaning over, she put her lips on his stomach, on his scar.

After more than two hours of pageantrya"two hours! How insignificant! How trivial! Time entering into eternals, how ludicrous, how degradeda"she had to leave. Left his hands on her thighs, his soft lips on her bare stomach, left her own hands on his back, kneeling on the bed. No, don't go, Kai whispered, I haven'ta You mean there is something you still haven't done? Larissa almost didn't leave.

"I'm off Monday," he said as she was getting dressed. "I'll be here all day, waiting for you. Come when you can. Whenever. Just come, Larissa."

She b.u.t.toned her blouse, slipped on her sandals, smoothed out her hair, got her keys, her purse. Was she forgetting something? "This Monday?" What she wanted to say and couldn't was, I can't wait until then to see you again. I'm not going to make it. I cannot wait.

His hands grasped her hips, his mouth was in the swell of her b.r.e.a.s.t.s. He cradled her to himself. "Every Monday."

3.

All Else Shall Vanish

On Monday: Shower 7 minutes Drying 2 minutes plus air dry Lotion 2 minutes Hair 1 towel-dried minute, plus 1 minute for gel Makeup 5 minutes for mascara Dressing 5 minutes Misc. 5 minutes Total 28 minutes Larissa was at Albright Circle by nine in the morning. His door opened as soon as her Jag pulled into the drive. He dragged her inside, shut the door, pressed her against it. "Good morning," he said, tilting his head, kissing her deeply, kissing her neck, staring besotted into her embarra.s.sed eyes. "I bought croissants, bagels. I bought eggs. I didn't know what you'd like for breakfast."

Larissa didn't speak. She didn't trust her voice. Her eyes were closing at feeling him next to her again. But he was grinning so happily, still keeping her against the door, his hands over her body. "Did you miss me?" he said huskily. "Tell the truth, did you?"

"A little bit," she croaked.

"Did you think about me?"

"A little bit."

"What did you think about?" His hands were already under her skirt, between her thighs, on her b.u.t.tocks.

"Oh, you know, this and that."

"Well, what was it?" Thisa Or thata Still by the door! Against the door! Her keys falling to the floor, like she was about to fall to the floor.

"Would you like some croissants?" He unb.u.t.toned her blouse, looked for the bra clasp.

"It's in the front."

"Ah, convenient." With one motion it was unhooked, her b.r.e.a.s.t.s spilled out, her nipples still raw from Friday, pleading for more. She pressed her fists against the door trying very hard not to moan.

He was panting, excited pupils black against the whites of his eyes, wet mouth on her. "Come with me," he said, fondling her, tugging on her nipples, making her shudder. "I see you came early today. Not like Friday." From ear to ear was his smile. "Why did you come so nice and early today, Larissa?"

Kai, come on, don't drive me crazy.

Why not? He picked her up, carried her to the bed, dropped her on it, fell on top of her. You drive me crazy.

They were instantly naked.

Kai, I wanta I know what you want. His hands were filled with her body. I cannot believe how wet you are. I'm going to go insane. I can't believe it. But now that I know I can give it to you, I want other things first.

She took him into her hands, moaning, bent down to put him into her mouth.

No, no. I mean, yes, yes. But later.

Now is when I want it.

I know. But now that I know I can give it to you, I want other things first.

He propped pillows underneath her, to arch her hips to him. He kneeled between her parted legs. He looked at her, gazed at her, lifted his gaze to look into her face, he panted, he shook his head in wonder. Larissa didn't think touching her at this point would be necessary. One hot breath from his mouth, and she would be finished.

Every girl is different. Will you tell me what you like?

Okay.

Will you tell me what you love?

Okay.

What I want, Larissa, he said, lowering his head to her, kissing her gently, touching her gently with his fingers, is to make you come with my mouth. Can you tell me how to do that?

If I remember how, she thought but didn't say. It had been a long time since she had come that way.

Turned out she remembered how.

And he turned out to be a quick learner. Imagine what you might like me to do to you, she whispered, clutching the sheet, his wild head, his hair. Do it just like that, but much much gentler. No, gentler, Kaiaplease.

Okay. Okay. Okay. What about my tongue?

Yes, also good. Very good.

What about my fingers?

Yes, also good.

Fingers everywhere?

Oh, G.o.d help mea Is that a yes or a no, Larissaa?

There was no more instruction after that, just current running through Larissa's third rail body until 2:15 p.m. when he was drenched like he'd run a marathon and she had to run.

The other life melted away, like ice in heat. A frozen block started to drip, and before she knew it, it was a puddle on the ground, and the spring sun beat on. The ground became dry; soon there was no indication that once last winter in that place stood a house, a husband, children, day-to-day things, breakfasts, shopping, friends, theater! which had been the primary driving pa.s.sion. Not even a damp stain remained where the old evaporated life had been.

And yet, there was Larissa. And she still had to get up, and get her children up and out, get their backpacks, first to school, and then their towels and bathing suits for their swim lessons; she had to make their lunches and wash their wet things, she still had to pick up Michelangelo from school. Every day. The balcony for the Much Ado production was built three inches too small for six-foot Trevor, who played Bened.i.c.k and who kept hitting the upper beam with his forehead every time he stepped forward to sing, The G.o.d of love that sits above, and knows mea The balcony had to be sc.r.a.pped and rebuilt from scratch; just another delay and headache for Larissa. There was still Maggie. Larissa still had to drive Emily to her friends' houses and to her music lessons, and she still had to go shopping, and think about dinner, and she had to come home and put the food away, and chop onions and marinate meat, and fix drinks, and help Asher with his Spanish words and Michelangelo with his addition. She had to unload the dishwasher, and clean Riot's paws and put gas in the Escalade and the Jaguar. She still had to smile for Jared when he came home, and sit at his table and listen to him talk about the impossible goals of lowering operating costs without laying people off while magically increasing revenue; she had to monitor the kids and clean up. She still had to undress and lie down next to Jared, and on the weekends she had to lie down under him. On Sat.u.r.days, after running to Pingry to rehea.r.s.e for three hours and paint the trap door for h.e.l.l and Ghosts in just the right shade of Sherwin-Williams cast-iron gray, she still had to spend the day with her family, and soon they would go to Lillypond up in Pennsylvania, hours away, and she simply didn't know how that would be possible. She walked, sleepwalked through her life with a vacuous but ever-present smile, and the fact that no one noticed told her that the vacuous, ever-present smile was not too far off from her previous smile, for it must have been the same face that the external Larissa had carried in the world for many years because now that her internal geography had altered utterly, no one had even noticed.

Except for this. She moved faster. She sped down halls and staircases. She speed-dialed numbers, tapped her impatient pens and fingers, unloaded groceries at warp drive. Dinner was served and cleared before Jared had a chance to take off his tie. Kids were in bed on the dot of nine-thirty and out the door before eight. She took five-minute showers, she learned how toa"she had to. No more anointing her head with two hours of lubricant. Her anointing was waiting for her at Albright Circle. She ran from the parking lot to the school and through the halls, and once Ezra caught her and yelled into her back, "Hey, no running in the halls! You wanna get written up?" And to Jared a few days later said, your wife was skipping through my school today. What do you make of that? Positively skipping.

"Skipping?" said Jared, like he'd never heard the word before. "You mean like with joy?"

"Well, I don't know. I'm just saying. It was odd."

"So what did you do?"

"Well, I told her to cut it out."

"Well played. And she?"

She, who was sitting right there at her own table, pouring Margaritas to everyone but herself (for she had reduced her social drinkinga"wanted to stay in control), said, "I haven't been written up since high school."

"Exactly. Bet you haven't skipped since high school either."

"What's with the skipping?" asked Maggie.

"Your husband is as always employing considerable literary license to state the plain truth. I was late to rehearsal, and was hurrying. But," Larissa added, "I am glad winter's over. It's good to be warm."

She wore her spring dresses, her denim skirts, her silken blouses, and then she lay down in the white bed with him while the gauzy curtains blew spring all over the room, wet and warm April, dry and singing May.

And Kai, in between the brief moments of waiting for ardor to return to his body, serenaded her with the ardor in his soul, by sitting next to her in bed and strumming the strings of his ukulele, singing to her a song she barely knew, hardly ever heard, yet he sang it like he wrote it and he wrote it for her.

Beautiful dreamer, wake unto me,