RED 2: A Trick of Mirrors [#Wattys2017]

44. Full Circle

Marisa felt a jolt there, right where her heart was. Their relationship had had its share of marvel and hurt for sure. One day a gypsy told her every relation went through little deaths in order to consolidate. That was how blind passion transmuted into deep love. Passion was a state of illusion; love, the encounter with reality. Each brought its quota of wonders and pitfalls.

But there were moments when passion and love merged to create a miracle. And, like any miracle, it showed up unannounced: a lover would say a word or make a gesture, or quietly bear the gift of companionship. It was as simple as that. Then the light fell upon their face from a different angle making it glow, and their touch would be infused with electricity.

In that instant, Marisa gazed at Marco and saw in each of his dark irises a full moon surrounded by minute stars. They invited her to faraway galaxies, which she revisited with a surge of awe.

All thought ceased. She didn't move. Didn't even blink.

In that instant of suspension and perfect balance, when reality carried the magic of illusion and illusion came rooted in reality, time and space blurred to reinvent passion. It happened to Marisa that night. That night, she fell in love again.

Marco looked at her with the same enthrallment.

"You know, Mari, loving is a skill we learn. It involves attention, practice and slips along the way. I've failed too and ask for forgiveness."

"No, Marco, I was the one who failed you."

The gaze they exchanged kindled a sparkle of comprehension.

"Are we arguing already?" he teased.

And now, the gaze they exchanged kindled the sparkle of the game.

"So it seems," she replied.

"Wrong answer."

"I forgot the right one."

"It's 'No, Sir.' Repeat."

Marisa pretended she was going to say it and eluded him. She dashed to the bathroom and tried to close the glass sliding door. She wasn't fast enough and Marco pushed it. Marisa jumped back, colliding with the marble bathtub, and ran to the shower box in the farther corner. She never reached it. Marco caged her against the wall. She felt his breathing on her face, and her own breathing accelerated.

"The answer, Marisa."

She said nothing.

"You're wearing my patience thin." Marco's voice sounded sharp in the dimness barred by the street lights. At each word, he pressed his thigh harder between hers.

Her silence remained as obstinate as her posture.

Marco lifted Marisa in his arms, and she ceased all resistance. She softened, rested her head on his shoulder and closed her eyes. Marisa only opened them when Marco lowered her to the bed and leaned over her. The atmosphere changed, the game dispelled. His fingers grazed her face, collarbone, the valley between the breasts, moving up again to nestle in her hair. She half-rose, laced both hands around his neck and sought Marco's lips. Then, letting her head drop on the mattress, she stared at him for a long while.

"I still haven't heard the answer," he whispered.

Marisa's eyes acquired a liquid luster that poured across her face, making it resplend with an ethereal luminescence.

"I give you my body, my heart and my soul, Marco. Without reservations. Now I want what's mine. We need two rings to create the infinite."

He had longed for that answer. Fumbling in his pocket, he produced a gold band. Marisa held his left hand and slowly slid the ring in his third finger. She placed a kiss on his palm and laid it against her chest.

Marco looked into her eyes, those eyes the color of amber radiating vertigo.

"My body, my heart and my soul you already have, Marisa. If we failed, we'll correct our failures. And we will fail again because that's inevitable. But each mistake can be a step toward making it right.

"Then we must forgive ourselves, Marco. I forgive myself. How about you?"

The question took him by surprise. He wavered. Marco was generous, understanding, tolerant. But he knew how to be harsh with those who hurt him and, foremost, with himself.

Marisa pressed his hand.

"If I can do it, you can too."

Marco assented.

Time quietened because there was no more need to rush. There was time to spare for planning or simply playing by ear. A massage with aromatic oil. A candlelit bubble bath. Wine and strawberries coated with chocolate. Delicious, wonderful clichés. Outside dusk emblazed the sky and spread its wings over the sea, a sea singing a duet with the wind. In the suite, the air turned lighter and perfumed. The lightness and the perfume, however, didn't emanate from the fine oil, the white bubbles or the candles: it emanated from the two of them.

In no hurry their hands mingled and in no hurry their mouths met. The hands then parted, fluttered, alighted. The clothes dropped piece by piece until only the exposed flesh and raw soul remained.

They were free to surrender, and they surrendered because they were free.

***

Life is a mirror.

Love is a mirror.

All that's left for us to do

Is seeing.

______________________________________

Dear readers, thank you so much for taking this journey with me. I hope you had a good trip. RED 2 was an intense work that consumed 9 months of nights, weekends and holidays. It was also a challenge, a pleasure and a therapy. A labor of love about love. I hope it had served not only for entertainment but also for reflection.

If you have any comment or question, post it here and I will love to read it and know what you thought of the ending. Was it what you expected? I feel like asking the classical question: ahem, was it good for you?

And if you haven't clicked on the star to vote, click now to support the story if you liked it! If you want to vote for other chapters too, go for it  :)

It's weird not posting more chapters here, it's like I was also reading and came to the end of the story...

God bless you all, and many thanks again for your support. Words aren't enough to express my gratitude.

Love,

Nicole

xoxo