“That was your first meeting?” Brent asked. He felt his cheeks grow warm again.
“Yes. We met, we ate, we slept together.”
“What made you declare yourself his manager?”
Carolyn appeared pleased by his less obvious question. “It was a spur of the moment inspiration. I knew Ruffiero. I had been to his gallery several times to see artists I knew or enjoyed. He had a reputation for being somewhat unfriendly when it came to paying his artists. But of course, when one is obscure and broke, one takes what is offered. Ossirian was neither famous nor rich, but he was startlingly prolific. A gallery showing may result in two or three sales, sometimes four or five. To sell every painting? Unheard of! But I knew Ruffiero would rob him blind, so I blackmailed him with a scandal to free Ossirian. He would hardly have done it himself. It wasn’t difficult to see the boy wasn’t worldly.”
“You felt protective of him.”
“I did. He had a quality that made you want to protect him. To care for him.”
“To mother him?”
She gave him an opaque look. “In a way.”
“To fuck him?” he asked, trying to shock her, curious how she would respond.
“Violently.” There was no hesitation and a girlish playfulness in her response.
He snorted laughter. “Oh?”
“Sex with Ossirian was… primal. Without hesitation,” she said. She grasped for the words. “It was…”
She trailed off. He waited.
She gazed at him, her lashes half-covering her smoky eyes. “It was very Brazilian. Very… immediate. When he was making love he wasn’t thinking about anything else. He opened himself up to the experience. Every experience. Any experience.”
Brent cleared his throat. “Is that rare?”
“I’ve encountered it but once in my life. Ossirian was singular.” She said with a throaty chuckle.
“So he was a good lover?” Brent asked, somewhat piqued and looking to jab her a bit.
“He was adequate. He wasn’t fantastic. What made the experiences wonderful was the way he focused on the pleasure and tactile intimacy. There might be better lovers in the world, but none are what he was: all yours when he was with you, without reservation. He opened himself up to you in a way no one else ever would. It was a singular experience, every time.”
Brent considered this.
Carolyn sipped her drink. “It’s getting late. We’ll want to get to the house before it’s too dark to see the road.” She signaled the waiter.
“Too dark?”
“The road up the mountain is… challenging. And I’m eager to see the house once more. I’ve spent the majority of my life away,” she said. “But it always pleases me when I return.”
“Why is that?”
“You’ll see.”
She navigated the darkened streets as though guided by rails. He relaxed into the ride, letting go of the safety bar and studying the passing scenery. The buildings, crowded shoulder-to-shoulder along the narrow streets gave way to winding, climbing roads. They ascended into the hills that overlooked São Paulo. Headlights lit the jungle in a Polaroid series of still-framed trees, bushes, and the occasional twin glare of an animal’s eyes as they wound through twisting mountainous passes wide enough for two vehicles to pass, but just. Twice she pulled to the side to let a pickup truck through first.
She explained, “They won’t stop, and they’ll weather a crash better than we.”
For two hours they drove in silence. A widening road led them into a darkened village. There were rows of buildings that led up to the edge of the jungle on each side, and lights in some of the houses. She turned off into a narrow access road and they tilted precariously, ascending a rutted dirt path. Carolyn grinned as she urged the car faster up the slope. The vehicle jounced and rocked as she navigated the washboard outcroppings of dry mud and stone. As the angle became steeper Brent wondered what the tipping point of their car would be- and then they came into a clearing and the land leveled off.
A full, bright moon illuminated the house and surrounding forest. The house occupied the exact center of the wide manicured lawn, a full acre of cleared land. Carolyn parked. They sat listening to the engine tick as it cooled.
“That’s some driveway.”
“It’s not always accessible. When the rains come, it can be impossible to get in or out.”
The cooler air of the car was swallowed by steam and heat of the jungle. Brent began sweating as he got out of the car. Carolyn climbed the short steps to the door and put her hand on the knob. She closed her eyes and seemed to be uttering a prayer. Her face was reverent and serene, strangely penitent. He waited.
She broke her reverie and gave him a half-smile over her shoulder. “Sorry. I was thanking the Lord it was still here. I haven’t been back in nearly three years.”
“Why?”
“I didn’t want to come back without Ossirian,” she said, and her voice dropped. “That’s no longer possible. I decided that he wouldn’t mind.”
She opened the door and stepped aside. He entered the darkened foyer. She came in after him and closed the door. After a moment in darkness he asked, “Are there lights?”
“I wanted to warn you before I turned them on.”
“Warn me? About?”
“It can be… unsettling the first time.”
“I’m sure it’ll be fine,” he assured her, puzzled. “And if it’s messy or whatever, we’ll make do until -”
“You don’t know what this place is.” Her sudden anger lashed over him. “Or you’d be more circumspect with your words.”
“Where are we? Exactly?”
“This is the house in which Ossirian and I lived while in São Paulo. We first found it on a hike through the jungle. It became our home.”
Brent felt like he was missing the point. “I don’t understand yet.”
He heard her smile as she said, “That’s why I’m telling you. Because you know enough to say ‘yet’.”
He chuckled. “You’ve been informative so far in helping me understand. I trust you.”
Unsettled silence fell between them. “You may regret that.”
“It might be a mistake, but I’ll never regret it. You have my word.”
“Very well,” Carolyn said. “Before I turn on the light, I need to remind you: I’ve not seen this house for years. I… I find I’m afraid of seeing it again.”
“Why are you afraid?”
“Oh,” she said, exhaling. “Because memory is sharp enough to cut.”
Carolyn took a deep breath and spoke.