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IT WAS ONLY A HALF-hour past nine. Diadra rummaged through the basket, using a plate to put together a meal as they drove, feeding Ed off her fingers with slices of boiled eggs, cheeses and chunks of fruit. The vehicle pulled into the gravel drive, and Diadra marveled at the two-colored small home sitting on a hill overlooking the lush green forest of Pérez Zeledón.
Yuñior had driven past a small store that offered colorful clothing that she looked forward to exploring later in the day after a much-needed nap.
“Ed, I love it,” she said softly as the car came to a stop.
Pride filled his lungs stealing much of his air at the sheer joy he’d hoped to see on her face come to manifestation. Diadra exited the vehicle, walking up the gravel stairwell, standing in the same spot he had when he’d first visited the property, observing all of the surroundings and capturing each detail to etch into her memory. Large windows offered a picturesque view of the countryside from the orange and green house, with two chairs waiting on the front porch. Brilliantly colored tropical plants and flowers covered the landscape around the front door, drawing Diadra’s attention to a red flower with a bright yellow stamen.
“What type of flower is this?” she asked, reaching for the flower. Yuñior grabbed her hand, pulling her back. Picking up a stick, he moved carefully towards the foliage, using the stick to lift what Diadra thought was a stamen of the plant. It moved.
“Oh shucks,” she said, jumping back. She looked closely at the yellow object moving on the stick and realized it was the same snake tattooed on his chest.
“Whoa! That’s the same snake on your body. What is it? It has little eyelashes. Is it poisonous? Can it kill you with one bite?” she asked, bouncing up and down, holding the edges of her skirt as if her feet were surrounded by the viper’s babies.
“This is the bocaracá, or the eyelash viper,” Yuñior said. “It is a viper whose venom contains a hemotoxin that attacks the blood and tissue. You can die from a bite, but it will be slow and painful. They come in various colors and are masters of camouflage.”
He spoke as he moved the snake to a bush further from the house. “These guys are all over the garden and in the trees, so please be careful,” he told Diadra.
“Are these guys your security system?”
“Actually yes,” he said. “I paid a local man to find as many as he could to place in the yard and garden. Unless a body walks up to the front door, they will not have a good day.”
“Jeez, my skin is crawling,” she said, watching him place the snake in the shrubbery.
“It is gone, Diadra. I want to show you the inside of the house,” he said, extending his hand. Yuñior unlocked the front door, entering first while pulling her by the hand.
Inside the home, she looked about, taking note of the three chairs facing the window, the dining room table and the neatly stacked dishes. There were no personal touches outside of a music rack and a violin resting in a holder on the wall. Diadra pointed at the instrument, her eyebrows arched.
“It is mine. I play to keep me calm in between the three weeks of our visits,” Yuńior said, suddenly feeling warmth in his cheeks.
“Ed, if I hadn’t made it, would you play or what else would you be doing?”
“Probably out fucking some shit up,” he said with a chuckle. “You make me feel tranquil when everything inside of me is turbulent. Emotions which I hold inside can only be set free through my fingers or the expulsion of energy.”
“Sexual energy?”
“Sex is a release, Diadra,” he confessed. “I was taught at a young age not to allow my need for release to control my actions and thoughts. The violin is one of the most difficult instruments to master. In my teen years, I spent a great deal of time with that thing, almost hating it as much as I love the feel of it under my chin and the weight of the bow in my hands and the touch of the catgut filaments as my bow strums across the E, A, D and G strings. It comes alive under my touch.”
“So do I,” she said, touching his arm. “Play for me, Ed. Show me how deeply you can love.”
“I would be honored,” he said, asking her to take a seat.
Diadra watched him pick up the instrument and tuck it under his chin. His eyes blinked several times as he thought of the song he wanted to play. The dark lashes of his lids swept the top of his cheeks as Yuńior’s eyes closed, and he began to play their song. ‘A One in a Million’ sang out as loudly as he had in the night club, strumming the violin. Diadra could almost see the notes flying in the air as his body swayed with each chord. The words he’d sung to her at karaoke came to life in notes as she relived the surreal moment in the nightclub and the beauty of his soul while he played.
He ended the song, opening his eyes which held tears of joy from connecting with the piece he’d struggled with for months to get just right. He’d played it perfectly for her, hoping and praying that she liked his rendition. Diadra’s answer was to stand, remove her skirt, and toss her blouse across the back of the chair.
“Tell me one true and honest thing right now, Ed. Spare the niceties and tell me one true thing about us,” Diadra said, reaching behind her back and unsnapping the brassiere.
“I’ve missed you, Diadra,” he replied, his eyes focused on her face.
“Truer than that, Ed,” she said, tossing the bra onto the chair, allowing her breasts to be free. The dark nipples hardened under his gaze.
“I bought the house for us,” he confessed.
Diadra removed her underwear, standing nude before him. His gaze remained fixed on her face, refusing to look over her body while lusting to be inside of her like a 16-year-old with a permanent hard-on. He was a man, a man in control of his emotions and needs.
“True thoughts, Ed. If there is one person in this world, you can be honest with, it should be me,” she told him, sitting in the chair and spreading her thighs wide to give him an unobstructed view.
He sighed deeply, fighting to control his thoughts. His body argued with the idea of him being a gentleman and being able to surpass his baser nature. The heady scent of Diadra’s readiness for him forced him to put the violin down.
“Talk to me. Be honest with me, Ed. Tell me your true thoughts,” she encouraged, raising her knees, pressing her feet into the cushions. She opened and closed her legs slowly, watching the bulge rise in his pants. “Stop for one minute being the man with the tattoo emblazoned on his body. Whoever you are in that world stops in this instant, and you are nothing more than my man. Tell me one true thing without any repercussions or consequences.”
“The taste of you on my tongue kept me on rock for three days after I left you,” he said softly, walking towards her.
“Good start. Tell me more.”
“The feel of you under me, breathing heavily and calling my name, echoed in my ears for many nights. All I wanted was more time, more space, and more chances to be with you,” Yuñior told her frozen where he stood; afraid to move in fear of breaking the spell she was weaving.
“Almost there, Ed,” she coerced him, “almost there, baby. Keep talking.”
“Last night I barely slept, lying awake in bed in the other room, aching for you. I couldn’t wait until you got here so I could show you what I built for us,” he said, dropping to his knees in front of her.
“Tell me why you went to so much trouble for me, Ed,” Diadra said. “The waterfall, the picnic basket, the house...”
“I want you to love me,” he said, placing his hand on her knee. “I wish when you see me only to remember the tender moments we shared and to love me as you would a man you could share a life with in the long term. I want you to love me enough that the fifteen months will be as torturous to your soul as they are to mine.”
His mouth touched her knee. Hot kisses trailed down her thigh. Strong hands forced her legs apart, allowing room for his face to bury inside in the sweet spot. His tongue slid up and down the slatted sweetness reminding him of the juicy mango in which he trained. A tongue eager to please flicked at the nub of flesh while Diadra’s hands staked themselves inside of his hair.
“Yes, Ed,” she moaned in pleasure, wanting so much more. “Slow down or I won’t last for the rest.”
Yuñior didn’t care about her feeble words. Calloused fingers plunged inside of her womanhood, forcing the air from Diadra lungs as she cried out. Eager fingers moved in and out as his tongue flicked and licked, and he savored the taste of his woman in his mouth. She tasted sweet. He throbbed in need, making him touch himself to ease the pain of wanting to be inside of Diadra.
“Don’t make me wait, Diadra,” Yuñior mumbled with a mouth full of muff. “I’m aching for you.”
She couldn’t speak as the wave of desire washed over her, coming undone under the administration of his carefully trained tongue.
“You don’t have to wait,” she said, clutching his hair, pushing him to the floor, and unbuckling his pants. Greedily she freed the erection from his pants, covering it with her mouth, sucking at him hungrily as he writhed under the force of the suction.
“Damn, Diadra!” He yelled out enjoying the pleasure of her mouth, gripping the rug on the floor with his fingers.
“I ache for you as well, Ed,” she mumbled, reaching inside his pants and cupping the givers of life, saddened that the contents would never produce a child who belonged to the two of them.
Diadra pulled her mouth away, climbing over her man and connecting their bodies. She rode him hard, bouncing up and down until he grunted through his orgasm, gripping her hips and bucking furiously. Her second climax came shortly after, folding her body in half, leaving her a crying lump lying on his chest.
“Don’t cry, Diadra. Don’t cry,” he said, rubbing her back, their bodies connected and Yuñior embedded still inside of the woman.
“I’m crying because all of this is imprudent and I’ve fallen in love with you. All of this is going to be taken away from us, but I won’t leave you, Ed, not until I’m forced to let you go,” she said, clutching at his sides.
He had no solace to offer and no consolation to give. They knew the price. Both agreed to pay the toll to have the beautiful moments stolen from two lives which intersected by chance. However, fate was not done with the lovers, who spent the remainder of the day in passionate embraces, discussing a book about a man covered in scales fighting to be loved in a world that didn’t accept him as one of its own.
Yuñior’s aspiration to exist in both worlds was a feeble gesture, since he only could exist in the one.
****
“ED, I WANT TO LEARN how to make the eggs and rice you spoke about,” Diadra said. “Are they easy to create?”
“Actually, it is an easy dish,” he said, walking next to her down the gravel road in the small shopping center close by the home he’d purchased. “It is usually made with leftover beans and rice, peppers, and onions, and if there is a bit of meat, we add it to the mix with a cooked egg on top. However, the way mi mamá would make it, it would be like fried rice, all scrambled together.”
“Here is a market. Maybe we can get the ingredients,” Diadra said.
“I have all of the ingredients at home. It was my plan to make this for you later today,” he replied. “My cooking repertoire is limited, but I would like to get a few steaks for tomorrow to marinate all night. I’d like to fire up the grille when Mr. Yield arrives.”
“Oh, we’re having company?” Diadra asked with her eyes wide in surprise.
“Sí, did I fail to mention that detail?” Yuñior asked with a wry grin. “I’ve never really had friends or sleepovers growing up. My grandparents never really allowed kids over to their home, and...well, there’s that. This is new and exciting for me. Having my friends come for a visit means a great deal.”
“So, I’m your friend?” she asked, stopping on the sidewalk with her hand on her hip. “I thought I was something else.”
“Diadra, any relationship should be based on friendship. The idea of you being both my friend and my lover is a gift,” he said.
“Your lover.”
“Mi amante,” he replied.
“Ah, the word for side chick in your language? Funny, now I suddenly feel used,” she said.
“You aren’t a side anything to me, Diadra,” he told her, stepping into a small home goods store. “If I had my way...”
Diadra touched his hand. The softness of her touch nearly unshackled the buckles around his heart. The dark eyes gazed at the soft lips, supple skin, and soft curly hair. If he were a different man, he would keep them both, but it was not his way.
“What?” she asked, giving a brief smile.
“If I had my way, Diadra, we would be planning for the arrival of our first child, after of course, an extended honeymoon in the Middle East. I’ve always wanted to ride a camel through the desert and sand surf the dunes,” he offered, touching her chin.
“Oh, that is just not fair. Two can play that game, Mr. Smooth,” she said, scowling at him. “If I had my way, every evening when you came home from work, I would greet you at the door, welcoming you inside after a long day’s work. On my hip would be your son, Manny, which is short for Emmanuel, and he would want to share with you all that he’d learned through the course of his day. He would sit on your lap while I set the table for dinner. After the meal, together we’d wash and put away the dishes, before enjoying a hot cup of coffee with dessert. On the front porch, we would hold hands as the sun set, with the soft snores of Manny from the bedroom window reminding us how lucky we are to be here.”
Yuñior placed his hand in his pocket, staring at Diadra. He knew, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that he’d chosen well. The next step was to figure out how to keep her permanently in his life in a win-win situation for them both.
“Emmanuel,” he said, walking into the store. He touched a few items, but said nothing more, even when she located a ceramic coffee service.
“I like this, Ed,” she said, picking up the set. A coffee pot, sugar, creamer, and four cups completed the set. “I’m going to get it and the matching dessert plates. Maybe we should make cookies to go with dinner.”
“Certainly,” Yuñior replied, watching the woman purchase items for a home and begin nesting. Oddly, it brought him more comfort than concern. She knew he’d purchased the home for them to love in, and she was now buying items to add her own special homey touch.
By the end of the afternoon, a couple of paintings from street artisans were purchased, along with a bowl for the dining room table, wine glasses to go with the bottle of wine, and knick-knacks to place around the house. A large carpet for under the bed in the master bedroom, and new rugs for the bathroom completed the purchases. The touches gave the small space a lived-in vibe, and the two-bedroom house actually felt like home.
A chill ran down his spine at the same time a chime came through on his phone. Reluctantly, he looked down at the device and saw a message from Andres. The notification confirmed what he already suspected, which dampened his mood.
“Ed,” Diadra called out, pulling him back into the moment. “Ed, we are here. Until whatever that is shows up and knocks at the front door, it cannot and will not ruin this weekend for us.”
“One would think, at this point in my life, I should be accustomed to the smell of shit, especially since I live on a farm,” he said, not caring about the possibility of giving away too much information on himself.
“Whether it’s fertilizer or a bout of bad tacos, all of it smells,” Diadra replied. “Hey, speaking of tacos, I’m hungry. We haven’t eaten since breakfast. Maybe we can try to make those eggs and rice.”
“Eggs and rice it is,” Yuñior replied, absently calculating potential outcomes of if-then scenarios. If he responded this way, then this would be the result. However, he knew if he responded in another manner, then the outcome would change everything for him and Diadra. The second option could work out better. Lost in his thoughts, he continued preparing the meal.
He wielded the knife with surgical precision, creating even cuts of peppers and onions and cubes of tomatoes. Diadra simmered the rice on the stove in a small pot that sat beside a pot of black beans bubbling in thick black sauce. She offered a smile to him, nudging Yuñior with her hip.
“We need music,” she said, “and not the violin, something upbeat, fun and funky.”
From her backpack, she extracted a small speaker and synced it with her cell. Immediately, the room filled with music. The tense moment from the text message all but forgotten, Yuñior asked her to slow down the music to a more romantic song, as the veggies sizzled in the skillet.
The clear voice of Ed Sheeran’s “Perfect,” came through the speakers. Yuñior left the stove to stand in the middle of the living room floor. He opened his arms for her to step into the embrace. Slowly, he began to sway to the music as if all the cares in his world had ceased to exist and they were one with the song.
Yuñior’s Abuela had taught him how to waltz when he was only 13. Each Sunday night when they would return from Las Tierras for the school week, she ensured he had a dance lesson and how to escort a woman into a room. He credited his Abuela with the good manners instilled in him at a young age.
Midway through the song, Yuñior dipped Diadra with one hand and stirred the veggies with the other, moving back to the floor and dancing until the song ended. The song stopped as if he’d used their bodies to move through movements like he was rearranging thoughts in the air.
“Thank you,” he said to Diadra, coming to a conclusion of what needed to happen and in what order. Yuñior went to his phone, punched in a number, and waited for an answer.
“Do it,” he said into the line, then ended the call.
Diadra didn’t look up or ask any questions. When he returned to the stove, she wrapped her arms around his waist, hugging Yuñior tightly as if to offer comfort in a decision he was reluctant to make. Yuñior responded with a light kiss to her forehead, as he cracked eggs into the skillet to scramble with the veggies.
“You didn’t ask,” he said softly, as he loaded two plates with rice and beans.
“I can’t, so I won’t,” she replied. “We are here.”
“Things are going to hit the fan. Do you wish to go home or stay to see the fallout?”
“Where do you need me to be, Ed?”
“At my side,” he said solemnly. “Should anything happen, there would be no means to notify you since technically, to my world you are invisible. If you stay, the anonymity goes away, but so does mine. You will truly learn who I am. Everyone in my world will know you exist.”
“You’re scaring me.”
“I believe in choices,” Yuñior told her. “I wanted to make sure you were given a chance once more to choose. We have maybe 24 Hours to love, languish, and lounge about before it all crashes.”
The anger in his voice unnerved her. Twice his plans for a sexy, romantic weekend had been snatched away from him. The hum of violence under the surface also began to bubble up.
“All I know is how to love you,” Diadra said. “If I need to be Bonnie to your Clyde, you need to tell me what has to happen.”
“The only thing happening tonight is you and me. Give me that and I’ll be happy,” he said, taking the plates to the table.
Diadra gave him what he needed. In her backpack, she’d brought a deck of playing cards, and she taught Yuñior how to play Gin Rummy, only the adult version where clothing had to be removed if the player lost the round. Seated at the table in his underwear and only one sock, Yuñior realized she’d been cheating to get him naked.
“If you wanted me naked, Diadra, you had only to ask,” he said with a coy smile.
“No, this way is better. I get a strip show.”
Yuñior gaze was intense as he watched her face. Tomorrow, by his calculations, she was going to learn who he really was, and in his mind, it was a step in the right direction. The cost was going to be high, but he was ready to pay the price. Tonight, sitting on the front porch of a home they shared, being nibbled at by insects, and wearing only his underwear and one sock, Yuñior Delgado had never been happier.
