I’m lying on my back, holding Joanna close to me. Her face is resting on my chest, her breathing is calm and even. I don’t want to risk moving, as she may have fallen asleep, and because I don’t want to ruin this indescribably wonderful moment. I feel as though, if I lie there quietly, I can hold on to the bliss that’s currently surging through my entire being.
I eye the whitewashed ceiling. The stucco rosette in its center and the matching molding make for a stylish contrast with the room’s modern furnishings. Past and present can be compatible, even if they’re so different that at first glance they seem irreconcilable.
Does that apply to people, to relationships, as well?
I find it hard to resist the urge to pull Joanna even closer to me. To feel even more of her naked skin against mine. But even that probably wouldn’t be close enough. Not now, now that she has chosen to stay with me despite the danger, now that suddenly at least a tiny flash of my Joanna has come back. And with it, the hope that everything between us might turn out to be all right again after all.
It’s crazy just how little you need to be happy, at least for a moment.
But then, all of a sudden, there’s something else. No more than a notion, but it still threatens to destroy this wonderful moment. I fight the impulse to let the notion turn into a more concrete thought, but I can’t stop it from happening.
What if this brief spark in Joanna’s memory wasn’t the starting point for her to regain all of her memories of me, but instead the last little twitch before the history we shared disappears once and for all into a black hole in her mind?
What if, say, in an hour’s time, she goes crazy again and plunges some sharp object into my heart, the very heart she was stroking just minutes ago?
No. Whatever happened to Joanna, it’s wearing off. She’s in great danger now, and that’s because of me. If she wasn’t with me, Gabor and his people wouldn’t be interested in her, she knows that. And despite that she’s passed up her one chance of leaving the country.
What more proof do I really need to be sure that my Joanna is on the way back to me?
The sex, just now … it was exciting, just as it always is with her, and yet very different. I felt like she was exploring me in a very inquisitive way, and yet at the same time she seemed to know exactly what I like. She’d let herself go the way you only can with someone you trust, but had still watched how I was reacting to her body and what she was doing.
I picture her beneath me again, eyes shut, her hips thrusting against me, her hands on my waist, directing me.
I can feel my body reacting to these images in my head; crazily enough I’d almost find it a little embarrassing if Joanna noticed. I don’t want her to think I’m insatiable; she hardly knows me, after all. Not yet. But hopefully that’s going to change again soon.
Joanna’s eyes are shut; she doesn’t react to the movement.
She really is sleeping again, despite all the hours we already spent asleep during the day. Or perhaps she’s just pretending because she wants to think in peace. To try to remember.
I set my eyes on the ceiling again, and suddenly I can’t help but think of Nadine. I don’t want to; it’s as though she’s pushing herself in between Joanna and me in this intimate moment.
It’s unfathomable to me, the fact that she’s dead. I’m still finding it hard to believe. It reminds me once again that this isn’t some Hollywood movie, but real life.
“Are you feeling as good as I am?” Joanna asks softly, and starts to stroke my chest again.
“Yes, I…” I start to say. “I’m really happy you remember me at least a tiny bit. And I’m really enjoying this moment.”
Our eyes meet. The love I feel for this woman is like a warm current flowing through my body. I can’t help but pull her closer. And closer. She’s on top of me now, her hair brushing over my face, her mouth so close to mine I only have to shift upward a little for our slightly parted lips to meet. When they do, it’s so tender, so soft, that it barely feels like we’re touching. I drink in her breath, move closer to her; we seem to melt into each other. My hands wander down her spine, grab hold of her buttocks, gently press her hips against my own. Joanna reacts, matching the thrust of my abdomen. The arousal I feel is nearly making me lose my mind. I start moving to a slow, steady rhythm, enter her almost instinctively, hold her as she arches her back, moaning. Then, there is only feeling and movement, losing ourselves in each other.
* * *
Joanna eventually falls onto her back next to me, spent. We’re both breathing in quick bursts, our bodies gleaming, dripping with sweat.
I want to do nothing, to not have to brood over anything, to just lie there in the certainty that she’s with me again. Finally.
After we’ve been lying there for a while, I have no idea for how long exactly, she asks me, “What are you thinking about?”
“I’m trying to put the feelings I have for you into words,” I reply, keeping my eyes fixed on the stucco rosette above me.
“And?”
“I can’t do it. Everything I can think of is either trite or too tame.” Now I turn to face her. She does the same.
“I love you, Jo. But it’s more than that. People use these words so carelessly for every little surge of emotion they might feel.”
“I know what you mean.” She raises her hand, strokes my forehead with the tips of her fingers. “And it’s such a wonderful feeling. I’m so sorry.”
“About what?” I ask, both surprised and confused at once.
“That I can’t make you feel loved. But you have to believe me, there’s more than…” She breaks off as I put my finger to her lips.
“What are you talking about? You can’t make me feel loved? Jo, you just ran away from your own people with me, to stay here with me, in a place where you’re risking your life. You think that doesn’t make me feel anything?”
“They’re not my people, they’re my father’s people. And yes, I couldn’t just leave you here. But—”
“It’s all right,” I interrupt her gently. “You’re here, in spite of everything. Because of me.”
As I say the words, I realize, maybe for the first time since we fled from the terminal, what it would do to me if something happened to Joanna all because she stayed with me. The realization both terrifies and shames me in equal measure. I just accepted the fact that she’s putting herself in mortal danger. For my sake.
I sit up and lean against the padded headboard.
“Jo, I really think what you did is amazing, but…”
“But?”
“But I’d feel better if you were safe.”
“You want me to fly to Australia with Gavin? Without you?”
“No, I want the two of us to fly to Australia together, but it seems that’s not going to work. So at the very least I want you to be safe.”
I lean forward slightly, stroke her cheek. “I can’t bear the thought that something might happen to you.”
Joanna takes my hand, pulls it away from her face, and sits up. All trace of softness has disappeared from her eyes. “If I go back now, we’ll never see each other again. You understand that, don’t you? Is that what you want?”
“No, of course not. I’d be coming after you. On a normal flight. Tomorrow even.” I hope my words sound more convincing than they feel to me. Joanna shakes her head, giving a bitter laugh.
“You don’t know my dad. Once I’m back in Australia, he’s going to move heaven and earth to make me marry Matthew. Just like he planned. Everything either happens the way Dad planned it or not at all.”
“But you’re a grown woman, surely he can’t just—”
“I’ll say it again—you don’t know him. My father can do everything he wants to do. And he gets his way just about every time.”
Joanna’s words rouse a kind of defiance within me. I refuse to accept that this man on the other side of the world could determine our fate, determine our lives so easily.
“We’ll find a way, Joanna. If he disowns you, let him, we can take care of ourselves. I’ll find work in Australia, somewhere far, far away from your father. It’s a huge country, after all. We’ll look for a small house somewhere and—”
She interrupts, shaking her head. “No, Erik, there’s no way. I’m staying here.”