Larenzo's Christmas Baby

‘Was that...was that how you were in prison?’ she asked hesitantly. They still hadn’t talked about his time in prison, and after that one night of confession they hadn’t spoken about the past at all. They were, as Larenzo had said, focused on the future. Their future.

‘I suppose,’ he answered now. ‘I felt...not just dormant, but dead inside. As if there was nothing left to live for. As if I wasn’t even alive, not in the way that counted.’

‘And when you realised you could walk free?’ she asked softly. ‘That new evidence had been found?’

‘It didn’t sink in for a while. I didn’t believe it, at first. And then when I actually got out...’ He shook his head. ‘Feelings don’t go away as quickly as that. I still felt empty.’

‘And now?’ she whispered.

‘I’m filling up,’ he told her, and she laughed to see the wicked gleam enter his eyes. ‘You’re filling me up,’ he said, and reached for her.

If the days continued on as normal, the nights were wonderfully changed, long and pleasure-filled. Emma didn’t think she’d ever tire of exploring Larenzo’s amazing body, or having him revere hers. She wondered how she’d lived so long without knowing the pleasure of such intimacy with another person.

Larenzo clearly wondered the same thing, for one night after they’d made love he ran his hand along her hip and asked, ‘So how come you were a virgin at age what? Twenty-six?’

She wriggled around to face him. ‘Is it really so odd?’

‘In this day and age, I’d say so.’

She shrugged. ‘I just never met the right guy, I suppose.’

‘But you must have had boyfriends.’

She hesitated, uncomfortably aware at how this conversation was leading them both into the uncharted and unknown territory of her past. ‘A few, but no one serious. Obviously.’

‘So?’

‘I didn’t want to get that close to somebody,’ Emma said after a moment. ‘I liked being on my own.’

‘Why?’ Larenzo asked, frowning.

‘I suppose my parents’ divorce affected me badly,’ Emma admitted. Larenzo had been honest with her about so much; the least she could do was be honest in return. And it was hardly as if she had some great tragedy or injustice in her past, not as he had. ‘My mother left,’ she continued. ‘When I was twelve. She’d had enough of moving every two or three years. She wanted to return to the States, live in one place.’

‘And your father didn’t want to?’

‘I don’t know if she gave him a choice. I wasn’t aware of any tension or fights, at least. Just one morning at breakfast she told us all she was leaving. Going back to America. I thought she meant for a vacation.’

‘And she didn’t take you?’

‘No.’ Emma shook her head, the memory making her eyes sting even now. ‘No, she didn’t even suggest it. In fact...’ She trailed off, and Larenzo slid his hand in hers, a small gesture of solidarity that strengthened her to continue. ‘In fact, I asked her to take me. I was closer to her than to my father, mainly because he was so wrapped up in his work. And...she said no.’

‘I’m sorry, Emma,’ he said quietly.

‘So am I.’ She sighed and rolled onto her back. ‘It is a terrible feeling, to be rejected like that by your own mother.’

‘Yes,’ Larenzo agreed. ‘It is.’

Emma stiffened. ‘I’m so stupid and callous,’ she exclaimed. ‘I’m sorry—’

‘No, don’t be.’ He smiled and stroked his hand back up her hip, all the way to her shoulder. ‘We were talking about you. Why do you think she said no?’

‘I don’t know. I didn’t ask. I acted kind of bratty, to be honest, and made like I wanted to be with my dad anyway. And she went off to Arizona and met someone else.’ Those were the facts, and yet Emma thought Larenzo could guess at the years of confusion and pain she’d felt at the way her mother had so easily left her.

‘And then what happened?’ he asked.

‘We lost touch over the years. She did ask me to visit, to live with her for a year, when I was in high school. I went, and it was so awkward and just...awful. She was wrapped up in this new guy and he didn’t want to have anything to do with me.’ She paused, remembering the tension, the arguments, the misery. ‘I told her I was leaving, and she didn’t even seem to care.’ She remembered telling her mother she was going, willing her to insist she wanted her to stay. She hadn’t. ‘I suppose it felt like another kind of rejection. After that we hardly spoke or saw each other at all.’