Martin knew something was amiss with Lydia. At first he brushed it aside as plain paranoia; but ever since that dinner with his sister, there had been a subtle change in character, so subtle it was almost undetectable. She behaved normally, so he decided to dismiss the entire notion his suspicions were based on.
That evening when his parents retired to their room, Martin and Savitri stayed back for idle talk. Savitri produced the small bag of hashish and her thin long pipe and prepared a smoke.
“What happened to that woman, your lover?”
Savitri frowned slightly in concentration, the thick smoke of hashish trailed the end of her pipe as she took a heavy pull. “Which one?”
Martin motioned for the pipe which she passed to him. “The orgasmic family dinner.”
“Oh. Ellie. Nah... we don’t talk anymore.”
“Why?” he puffed a long thick, languid cloud, feeling the leaves already loosening his inhibitions and watched the cloud slowly disperse into a thin opaque fog.
Savitri scoffed taking a gulp of wine, “She’s too clingy, Giano. I hate that.”
He nodded in understanding. For some reason his suspicion reared its ugly head again. “Did you meet up with her? To clear the air.”
She took the pipe from him and took a slow drag, watching the leaves turn orange-yellow then black, and exhaled leisurely. “That would warrant another situation I’d like to avoid. Papa’s still not over his trauma.”
He chuckled half-heartedly at the memory then decided to goad his sister. “And Lydia? She’s a good lover, no?”
“Oh, Gian, mi tesoro. She is the best. I mean for an amateur… she’s talented. And that tongue of hers is going to be the death of me. My dark-skinned goddess.” She said, smiling stupidly with a slight slur in her voice. The side effects of the wine and hash.
Martin stilled at those words. A sudden chill seeped into his bones and crept, encasing his heart in liquid nitrogen. Lydia and Savitri...together. Wrapped in each other’s arms. “When?”
Savitri glanced at him with a slight confused smile. “When what?” and snickered suddenly as a lame joke popped into her drug infused brain. “Shit…I’m high.”
Martin too angry and hurt for words, swallowed the bile and repulsion in his throat. His skin crawled at the different scenarios playing in his head. “When did you sleep together?”
The room suddenly fell silent. Panic fused with the strong scent of burnt leaves and their mother’s vintage wine. Savitri's eyes widened in alarm, dismay made her voice tremble. “Martin –”
“When did you sleep with Lydia, Celia?!” he asked through tightly clenched teeth. Livid rage burned an acidic hole into his brain, scattering his sense of rationality.
Slowly, his sister sat up from her reclined position on the sofa, regret and fear etched faintly on her face. She had the nerve to look contrite even after the deed had already been done. “A month ago.”
A month?
“A month ago.” He echoed disbelievingly, trying to wrap his head around the concept. “And you didn’t think to tell me?” his voice darkened. Martin swung his gaze to a baffled Savitri cowering and flinching under the malevolence and extreme hurt in his voice. “How could you do this, Celia? Why her? Why…”
Savitri sat rigidly, scared shitless when her brother rose, his eyes wild and bright with emotion. He would never touch her, she knew that, and wasn’t comforted by the very thought.
YOU ARE READING
Feel Me
Romance"Exhibitionism is something I haven't tried." She whispered, loving the dark wash of jealousy and anger on his face. He seized her by the waist crushing her against his solid frame, his eyes bright with anger. "It took me a long time to forgive you...
