Three months later,
I lay in bed, listening to the sounds coming from the television, just outside the bedroom and just near the kitchen. The sounds receded a moment later, replaced by the sound of frying pan above a fire. Propping up on my elbows, I looked out at the ocean. A couple of kids were chatting on the shore, their surfboards tucked under their armpits. The clock on the nightstand said it was 9:48 A.M. Music drifted from the kitchen now, making me smile.
Ballerina, you must have seen her dancing in the sand.
The hem of the white curtains was almost touching the granite ceiling now, our clothes carelessly scattered on the white marble floor. The air was thick with the smell of brine & sex. Collecting the chiffon nightdress from the floor, I slipped it on, brushed my teeth and made the bed afterward. The song had changed into something melancholy. I couldn't make it out until I stepped inside the kitchen.
The night is my companion, and solitude my guide
Would I spend forever here and not be satisfied?
The door to our room faced the staircase. In the left, we had the kitchen and the dining room. As always, the kitchen was squeaky clean, every surface highly glossy. It had an L-shaped counter with two burners just below the chimney and a sink on the far left. Inside, on the right was the refrigerator and the cupboards, definitely a high-maintenance.
Silas was in front of a burner, concentrated on the pan in his hand, unaware of his tee-shirt clinging against his body in sweat, wearing trousers that needed some good peeling off.
"Good morning," I grinned, placing a loud and wet kiss on Silas's cheek, feeling his stubble on my lips as I passed him by, purposefully brushing my ass against his legs. He let out a boyish chuckle, the spoon in his hand hovering now. He had managed to rustle up some good ole pancakes, having done with the smoothies.
"Good morning, Signora." He walked towards me and took my mug from my hand, insisting on pouring my coffee.
"Grazie," I smiled, leaning against the white granite counter, jiggling my left foot, my eyes still on him. Once done the serving, Silas faced me, his hand shooting up to caress my face.
"I take it. You slept well."
"Very well, indeed. Thanks to you." I kept my smile prominent until he dropped down to give me a gentle kiss. Instinctively, I swung my arms around his neck, letting him press my body along the length of his. With a silly smile, he carried me, walking around the counter towards the breakfast stools.
"Silas, I'll have to go down..." I murmured between kisses, watching his eyes grow curious. "...to Latteria. I'll do some shopping for Christmas. Grocery."
His eyebrows knitted together as he set me down on one stool, not happy. "I don't think it's safe. The weather was worse yesterday. The road might be a little slippery."
"Silas..."
"Isn't it a little early to shop for Christmas?"
"I'll do some grocery shopping too. Besides, I'll be more comfortable to be earlier than being overloaded with a long list." I reached for my plate and poured some chocolate syrup on my pancakes roughly.
"I was thinking of going down later. Do you want me to drop you to Latteria?" Silas tilted his head a little, popping a piece of pancake in his mouth, more like the piece I was about to devour.
"No, thank you." I pushed the edge of my plate to my right, far away from my husband, in order to eat my breakfast in peace. He smirked at my reaction. Ignoring it, I added, "It's only a fifteen-minute drive. And didn't you say you wanted to finish the painting?"
"Oh. Thanks for reminding me," he smiled gratefully and took a sip of his green vegetable smoothie. I made a gagging face almost immediately at it. But he acted like nothing happened. "You're taking Dan or Jayne with you."
"Jayne has gone out to the cafe, Silas."
"Then Dan."
"Gah."
He only smiled.
Silas had been working on a painting for a month. A still of the Amalfi coast, the view from our terrace. He ran out of colors mid-way and couldn't get down to get them because of the gloomy weather for the past few days. Therefore, he had made it his duty to make colors by himself out of bizarre ingredients. I had decided to do it for him just yesterday night when the weather forecast for today was clear. I guessed I didn't really like dragging him to bed, late at every night. Then again, I wasn't much fond of finding him in clothes slapped with paint.
I, however, kept myself busy by working on my manuscript. The real struggle of writing from a teen girl's perspective was making her authentic. I had passed her age almost eight years ago. But I believed, everyone had a little bit of teenager in them. Describing the right emotions of a seventeen-year-old who wasn't honest with herself whatsoever had me in a rollercoaster. She was an unreliable narrator yet my most loved character. I suppose that was why I called her 'Disaster Queen'.
I went down in Dan's dodge with Dan. It seemed more trustworthy than the old Buick now. My goal was to get two gallons of milk, the essentials for a remarkable Christmas meal after two months and particular oil paints as a surprise for my husband. Like Silas had mentioned, it was early to shop but there was no certainty whether days ahead would be clear on the weather or not. There had already been a small accident on the cliff in the rain. Luckily, no one had died.
In the three months, I had stayed here, in fear and in love, unforeseen days had followed. We were well-acquainted day by day, with our minds and bodies, with each other's the most. I wondered sometimes which Silas I loved more. The New York one or the one in Amalfi?
It was a ridiculous thought. I loved both of them. In New York, Silas had been difficult to understand what with his pile of secrets, his anger issues, his intimacy issues and my tendency of jumping to conclusions. But in Amalfi, we were not trying to solve each other anymore. Now, we were pieces of the puzzle, completing each other. We had become more married than ever, always teasing each other, fighting each other, sulking at each other, making up unexpectedly, and in the end, loving each other.
The sun had slid lower when I parked the Dodge in the turned-around, turning the engine off. Dan helped me with the bags.
"Where have you been? I missed you," Jayne's voice could be heard in the threshold when Dan entered, probably unaware that I was behind him.
She looked mildly embarrassed at my presence. Her curtains had been raised in these three months. She might have been a little intimidating at first but she was only a twenty-year-old who couldn't get the kid out of her.
One evening in August, I had been surprised by a sand-model of our house in Newburgh at the beach. It was the 29th, my birthday. When Silas and I had ruined our clothes with sand, having decided that making love on the beach wasn't a good idea, we jumped into our shower back in the villa. He was still inside when I went downstairs and accidentally interrupted a steamy moment between Jayne and Dan. I didn't even have to ask. She told me the next day, her words similar to an excited teenager's.
Silas didn't know. Jayne didn't want him to, not yet. Although my guess was he would just say that they were consenting adults and Jayne had always known what was good for her and what wasn't.
Anyhow, Silas was on the terrace when I entered our bedroom. I had expected to find him in the study, covered with stains. So, when I dropped the oil paint box and my tote on the bed and noticed him through the sliding door separating the bedroom and the terrace, I had been a little taken aback. He was sitting on a white sofa, a lavender cushion tucked behind his head as his green eyes scrolled through a book.
With one last admiring glance, I walked inside the bathroom. I was wearing a cream blouse with Peter Pan neck and black jeans, both of them tight against my body. I had gained at least 5 pounds in these three months. It made me look healthy and spoiled which I was, truth to be told.
Silas was reading 'American Psycho'. Now that I was outside on the terrace, I observed. "Silas Dale reading 'American Psycho. How apt!"
His eyes met mine, a flash of delight visible in them.
Sitting beside him, I continued, "Although, I appreciate that you don't have an overactive imagination like Bateman does. I'd be a dead man then." When he didn't like my remark, I hastily added, "well, in your imagination."
Certainly, it was a sensitive matter to use as a joke. The words 'death' and 'murder' related to his past and he loathed that more than anything.
Dropping my head on the crook of his neck, I looked at the white tufted center table spotting a bright green file while I changed the subject tactfully, "You smell nice. You took a shower which means you finished the painting."
"Maybe," he shrugged, thrusting his sinful lip out, his eyes flicking towards the easel by the railing. He had purposefully set the back of it facing us. Grinning, I ran towards it, the heel of my boots clicking loudly on the nude tiled floor.
Silas had outdone himself. The more I saw his works, the more I got impressed. The bay was an exact picture of what I was seeing on the easel as if photo-copied on the canvas.
"Silas Dale, the Van Gogh of his generation, has impressed me once again," I smiled, watching him sauntering towards me.
"You flatter me, Mrs. Dale," he feigned embarrassment and slipped both arms around my waist, kissing me next. "How was Christmas shopping?"
"Nice and boring. No need to worry about the Dodge or me. I drove fine." Seeing his unsettling expression, I realized he was about to ask why I didn't let Dan drive. "Silas, the painting... it's wonderful." I looked at it, feeling his eyes following my gaze. "I got you something, by the way. It's in the bed."
"What?"
"I don't remember."
Curious, he went inside and came back with the box, probably to open it before me. Inside, he had discovered the paints he had been wanting to purchase. I noticed his cheeks warming up at his little present. He possibly hadn't expected me to do this when I had been bitching about his color-making tactics every night in front of him.
"Thank you. You saved me a trip, Dawn," he sighed in relief, his eyes still on the lids of the paints.
"Well, that was the deal, wasn't it? You save me. I save you."
"Clever," he chuckled and placed the box on the table, right beside the file. "This reminds me. I have something for you as well."
Turned out, the file had a birth certificate and some educational certificates, the driver's license, a social security card, all of them under the name Drizella Ricci, just like I had wanted. If Dawn Dale was ever found, I could rub it in the people's face saying, "We all have at least six doppelgangers in the world. Suck it up."
"Thank you," I smiled up at Silas.
"No. Thank you for the paints. I desperately needed them." Silas took the file from my hands and dropped it on the nearest sofa.
"By the way, this is ending the late nights in the study." I snaked my arms around his waist, sliding both hands into the back pockets of his sweatpants. "I am not going to stay in bed alone, thinking of touching myself from now on."
"Am I being bribed for sex?" He cried, swatting both hands on his forehead dramatically. "So, that's what want you me for? My body?"
"You seem to know the truth yourself. Why are you asking?" I pursed my lips at him, narrowing my eyes as he gathered me in his arms, his face a mask of fake-heart.
"You wound me, signora." He sniffed slightly.
"You're such a drama queen," I giggled, slapping his chest playfully. Silence approached us, sometimes invaded by the chirping of the flock of birds returning home passing us by, and often by the sound of the ocean.
"Are you happy, Dawn?"
I sighed into his chest. "I know we are in a tough situation. But I can't help saying that I had never been this much happy since we got married, even more than the first night we made love."
"Are you sure?"
"Hundred percent."
"I love you, Dawn."
When he said those words, I never doubted them. We had been married for more than a year and I could still keep a record of each time he had said them to me. Not more than ten times, I guessed. Every time he uttered them, I thought perhaps he feared that these words might turn cheap if spoken too often. I suppose that was what thrilled me the most.
"I love you too."
And we stood there, with our arms around each other, watching the sun setting far off the horizon, hoping to let go of our past and create a bright future together.
_________
Who's happy for them? I sure am. Grrrhh.
I noticed that majority of my readers chose the (ii) no. option. I personally prefer this one. But, I guess I will mix the options into one. Since this is the last book of the 'Blood Money' duology( if that's what you call a two books-series lol), I will be focusing on their relationship a little. I am not sure if I will mention them in my other books. I will most probably stop at 40 to 45 chapters. Not interested in getting past that.
By the way, I had mentioned 'Disaster Queen' as Dawn's book. If you noticed my profile( I know most of you didn't :P that's no big deal), you saw that 'Disaster Queen' is my other book. That one is going to be a huge book, I guess. Besides, like Dawn had said that writing her manuscript was a struggle, I will say that this book is probably the most difficult book I have ever written. Give that a try if you want. I used that as Dawn's manuscript because I didn't want to spoil my upcoming books. I do have some original ideas.
Today's question: What do you like most about Dawn's character? Why?
Fact: The song above is Possession by Sarah McLachlan. I forgot to mention a lot of other songs that describe Dalas. Maybe, I will add them in new chapters of 'Here's to Us' and new chapters of 'Husband with Benefits'.
Let me know if you enjoyed this chapter.
Love y'all. <3