— Are you with him? Then you were just playing with me — the man asks.
— Get away from me! — Mirian cries, raising her hand.
— Hey, aren't you listening? Just go away! — I say, pulling on her arm. The man ignores me and leaves. Once I make sure he's no longer in the front yard, I approach her. — Are you okay?
— Yes, I'm calmer now — she says.
— Where do you know him from? — I ask as we start up the stairs.
— He used to work at the pottery shop with Liseth — she says. I assume she's talking about the blonde receptionist — we got along fine until I turned him down on an outing that was supposed to be with friends. Taison convinced his brother-in-law to plan a group trip to the festival last year, but only he showed up. At first we just played games, but then he tried to kiss me and said he knew I liked him too. Ever since that day, he's believed we have some kind of relationship beyond friendship.
— You have to report him for harassment.
— I'd been keeping my distance until you came back to town.
— Let me know if he keeps bothering you.
{]{}{} AUGUST {}{}{}
I'm at Mirian's house, clapping as everyone sings "Happy Birthday" to her father. He blows out the candles and hugs most of the people around him. — Thank you so much for inviting me, Mr. George — I say, shaking his hand. — Happy birthday.
— I heard you were in a coma. How's your recovery going?
— Very well, sir.
— I heard what you did for my daughter the other day — he says, leaning in close to my ear. — I appreciate it.
— It's nothing you wouldn't have done yourself.
— Hey, don't hurt her — he says, taking a sip of his beer.
— Not a chance, sir.
He nods and continues talking to the others. I decide to mingle a little more, so I walk over to a group of people that includes Mirian. — It would have been such a waste to have to sell the dress — says a woman.
— Laura… — says Mirian.
— I'm sorry, I didn't mean to sound insensitive about your grandparents — Laura says. She gives me a light pat on the shoulder. — I'm sure they would have loved Mirian.
— Of course they would — I say and smile at my girlfriend.
— You know I'm still willing to marry you two; you just have to let me know when — the other man says.
— I need to use the restroom, if you'll excuse me — I say and head toward the house. I stop in the living room when Mirian takes my arm. — Were we going to get married?
— Yes, but I didn't tell you anything because I didn't want you to feel pressured to be with me.
— I thought you wouldn't hide anything from me, and now I have to find out about such an important event at your father's birthday party, surrounded by people I can't even remember no matter how hard I scratch my brain. Do you understand how confusing that is?
— I just wanted you to fall in love with me naturally. Without second thoughts or me telling you how you're supposed to feel about me — she says.
And she's right, I can't even confirm everything she tells me about our relationship. But I'm sure of one thing. — I really like you, Mirian. At least that much I know — I say, and head back out to the patio, joining the group Laura is talking to.
After the barbecue, I go home, where I find Mom lying in bed watching TV while eating cereal straight from the box. — How did it go?
— It was kind of fun.
— Awesome.
— Are you telling the truth?
— What?
— Are you really happy that I had fun?
— I don't know, Marco. Did you have fun? — she says with a funny expression.
— Why didn't you tell me I was engaged?
— I figured she'd tell you.
— That's not true. If you assumed I didn't know, why didn't you ever ask me or say anything? You deliberately avoided the subject when I asked about her.
— At the time, I didn't think they were serious, until you wanted to bring the grandparents over to meet her — Mom says — Then the accident happened, and I forgot about it.
I sigh and head to my room. I can't argue with her about something that doesn't matter anymore, even though her lack of interest bothers me.
{]{}{} SEPTEMBER {}{}{}
I'm at the butcher shop cleaning the refrigerator when Mr. Emanuel knocks on the metal door a couple of times. — Looks like you're almost done.
— Yes, sir.
— I need you to take the delivery. Berni is very busy with customers.
— Yes, sir
I accompany him to the office where he hands me the order book and then explains what we're expecting to receive today. I check the labels, make sure the weights match, and help the truck driver unload the pork.
— Please sign here, he says.
— All set.
— Don't you need me to sign something for you too?
— Right…
— How long have you been working here?
— A month.
— Okay — he says with a smile and heads back to his truck.
Since I can't put the meat out front right now, I decide to take most of the baskets to the freezers at the back of the store. — Damn it! — I grumble when I see the trail of blood the basket leaves on the freshly mopped floor. It drips all the way to the freezer where I sort, cut, weigh, vacuum-seal, and label them until it's time to record the quantities of each specific cut in the logbook. My hands have turned red, reminding me of the smell of blood in the hospital hallway, that empty stare as I drank the blood from that man's wrist, the taste in my mouth, the heat running down my throat.
— Marco, you can go home now — I hear Emanuel's voice.
— But I'm not done yet.
— It's already four o'clock, and someone's waiting for you outside.
— All right, see you tomorrow — I take off my apron, wash my hands, and wave goodbye to Berni so as not to distract him too much.
— How was your day?
— Fine.
— Do you want to come over to my place tonight?
— It was a really busy day; I'd rather not… — She seems disappointed by my answer.
— I was planning on making a pizza.
— I don't feel like it.
— It's Friday. We could watch movies until we fall asleep and…
— I'd rather stay home this time — There's a constant sound that grows louder with every passing second. I look around to find the source until I spot a colorful poster. — How about we go to the festival? It starts this Sunday.
— Sounds good — she says before wiping her cheek.
— Did you come to town for more clay?
— I was hoping we could have dinner together.
— I'm sorry — I say, I don't want to force myself to eat.
— I drove here; I'll take you home.
When we reach the hill overlooking the entrance to my house, Mirian turns her face toward the window. I feel like I should say something, but I can't think of anything to say other than to kiss the back of her hand.
— How did it go? Are you hungry? I made lasagna — my aunt says, holding the baking dish. It's the first time I've seen her wearing a dress since I woke up.
— Why are you all dressed up? — As I get closer, I notice she's probably wearing makeup.
— Emanuel is coming over.
— Oh, no way! Are you seriously sleeping with my boss?
— Hey, don't be rude.
I watch her portion out the lasagna and pick a plate from the cupboard. — No, thanks. I already had dinner with Mirian.
— But it's way too early — she follows me to the stairs. — Does it really bother you that much?
— No, Mom. I'm going to bed early tonight.
She nods, strokes my hand on the banister, and goes back to the kitchen.
I stare at the ceiling after waking from one of my recurring nightmares, that scene in the hospital. The way that woman attacked the men seemed desperate, insatiable for blood, the way she brought those men's limbs to her mouth. It's strange that that sweet taste returns to my tongue every time I remember the doctor.
It must be my feelings that lead me to think of Mirian, of her lips that day at the waterfall. I feel a hunger for her lips, as if kissing her now could lessen the black hole inside me.
— Damn, it would only take me a few minutes to get to her house — I mutter in the darkness. I grab my shoes and slowly make my way down the stairs. The laughter grows louder and louder.
— Sorry, did we wake you up? —my aunt asks as soon as she sees me.
— No, I'm just going to get some fresh air.
— Another nightmare?
— I'm fine, Mom — I say. Emanuel's uncomfortable look amuses me a little, but I just wave at him before heading out.
After waiting several minutes outside Mirian's house, I climb the stairs from the backyard to knock on the door, but there's no answer. I notice the window curtain is slightly open, so I decide to peek inside. She's lying on the bed, moving beneath the sheets with her hands between her legs. Before I can hide or say anything to get her attention, our eyes meet.
She jumps up on the bed and covers herself completely with the blanket.
— Wait! — I was ignoring her footsteps and the sound of the door opening because I was hoping to escape this situation, but I simply refuse to ignore the sound of her voice.
— Sorry, I… sending you a message would have been better.
— I guess you couldn't sleep either — he says.
When I walk into her room, we sit facing each other with our legs crossed on the bed. — I was thinking about that day at the waterfalls. I'm sorry I bit your lip.
— Were you thinking about my lips?
— Maybe.
— Were you having dirty thoughts about me? — she says, crawling toward me with a smile. — Because I was. — She pushes me and runs her hands over my stomach under my shirt, making me laugh uncontrollably.
— Enough! — I say, taking her hands. We fall into a brief silence that allows me to identify the sound of this afternoon as the beating of her heart.
— I mean it — she says softly. — Maybe I called you with my mind. I was thinking about you.
— Okay.
— Are you embarrassed to know?
— No — I say. She steps back to her spot and looks down. — Can I kiss you?
— Yes — she smiles, a little surprised.
I lean in to cup her face in my hands, pressing my lips to hers, trying to taste that sweetness from the last time. I think kissing her more intensely would help; maybe if I kiss her neck and breasts, her moans couldn't make me any harder than I already am, but I keep exploring the skin of her abdomen, keep kissing her navel, immersing myself in the scent as I brush my tongue against her hair. When I reach the wetness of her sex, I feel on my tongue the thick waves of that delicious nectar that soothe the burning inside me. Mirian holds onto my head and moves to pleasure herself with my mouth. I suck every last drop out of her until there's nothing left.