Sweet Collateral

I wake up at the sound of Lucas choking next to me. The sound cuts off before he starts snoring softly again. The TV screen is black, but emitting enough light to see by. Standing up, I stumble towards the door. The house is quiet, and that immediately has me on edge thinking of the last time I walked out of this room only to be taken by Dominges’ hired men. But Dominges is dead.

Instinctively, I start to search out Rafael. His office door is ajar, but when I pass, I can see that the lights are off. When I reach the bottom of the stairs, I hesitate. I never would have thought twice about walking up here before, but now it feels intrusive because I’m not sure if I’m welcome. Taking a steadying breath, I start up the stairs. I need to talk to him, whether he likes it or not.

I move silently along the corridor until I reach his room. As soon as I open the door, I can hear the shower running. The bathroom door is open just a crack, and steam creeps out.

Crossing the room, I pull open the balcony doors and inhale the scent I’ve missed for months: night jasmine, and the distinctive aromas of the desert: scorched earth and sunshine. I will always associate it with this place, with him, and with my freedom.

I lean on the wide stone balcony ledge and close my eyes, listening to the cicadas chirp happily in the gardens below. Yes, this place is a figurative paradise to me, and I don’t want to leave it. It feels like home in ways that New York never will. But it’s not my home. It’s Rafael’s home. He and I may love each other, but I’m not sure love is enough anymore. I thought it was, perhaps because I’d never felt it. That first sense of it is like a breath of fresh air in a toxic environment. It feels like light and life, and something you can never ever live without again. Love is life-altering. And then you remember that life isn’t fair, and we don’t get to just be blissfully happy.

I sense Rafael behind me long before he speaks. I’m so attuned to him, as though he’s the sun, and I’m just caught in his orbit.

“Your sister is leaving for New York. You should go with her,” he says. For a moment I don’t know what to say.

I finally turn to face him, taking in the sight of him in just a pair of track pants, his massive chest even bigger than I remember. “So that’s it?”

Our eyes lock, and it’s like looking into the deepest recesses of the ocean: dark, cold, and unfathomable. “You’ve made your loyalties very clear.”

“How so?”

“You chose to follow your sister and not tell me what you were doing. In my city. With my enemies. Twice.”

“So it’s you or Una?”

“I asked you to walk away. You wouldn’t.”

“You knew I wanted Dominges!” I shout. “You told me to shoot him yourself.”

His eyes soften, and for the first time since I’ve known him, Rafael looks at me with pity. I hate it. “Yes, but you were once better than that. I hoped you still were.”

“I was weak, Rafael.”

“No, you were strong because somehow you didn’t allow the bitterness and the hate to consume you. Now look at you.”

“I’m still the same person.”

“I thought maybe you were. When you killed that boy, I thought maybe…”

My eyes prickle with tears, and I swallow around the lump in my throat. “I changed to survive.”

“No, Anna. You could have fucking walked away and lived your life. You could have been free of this, but instead, you walked straight into the fire!”

“I had no choice,” I say weakly.

“That’s bullshit.” He turns his back on me, heading towards the bedroom door. He’s walking out. He’s giving up and I panic.

“I had to do it because you left me with nothing else!”

He pauses with his hand on the door handle. “You left me.”

He turns to face me, his face set in a hard mask. “You know why.”

“You broke me where they couldn’t.” I hear his sharp intake of breath, and I know he knows exactly who I’m talking about. Years of rape and abuse didn’t wound me the way his simple rejection did. I lift my gaze to his, and I see the hurt in his eyes. “So I did the only thing I could; I pieced myself back together and made something of myself.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t hate me for surviving.”

He drags a hand down his face. “And what next? When does it stop? Because I know Alexandru and Dominges weren’t enough. I can see it in your eyes.”

He’s right. It doesn’t feel like enough, and I’m not sure what to do about that. “I don’t know.”