A man in a black suit was waiting for Ash and Hunter when they got out of the airport. He was a burly man in his late 30s, with wide shoulders, dark eyes, and short, dark hair. He looked like a spy sans the earpiece or some kind of formally dressed bouncer.
The man raised his hand in the air, palm out, fingers straight, as Ash and Hunter approached. Ash wondered if it were a signal of some kind and her eyes darted from side to side, quickly scanning the road to see if anyone else was approaching. [Am I in danger? Is this some kind of safety signal?] Ash felt a little anxious but she kept her cool.
When Hunter was within arm’s reach from the black-suited man, he raised his own hand in the air and heartily slapped palms with the older man. They were just giving each other a high five; Ash felt relieved.
The man introduced himself to Ash as “Fernan.” He was their driver. Ash glanced at his hands and saw that he had tattoos on his knuckles: hearts,
The drive up to the main house from the imposing gate took about seven minutes: the pathway wound around a hill surrounded by vast open fields of grass before it snaked up a slope onto a carved stone pathway. It felt like the longest seven minutes of Ash’s life. She felt butterflies in her stomach, and even the butterflies were feeling dizzy. When they got out of the car, Ash stood in front of the doors of the largest house she had seen in her life. The driver peeled away and Hunter ushered her inside. Hunter carried Ash’s duffel bag on his shoulder as they walked through the main house, and she followed closely behind him. Up to that point, the largest house Ash had ever been in was the State Orphanage. "The House," as the residents had called it, had belonged to a wealthy couple who had left their estate as a donation to the government. The estate had included the family home, which the couple expressly provided in their Last Will and Testament was to be turned into a childcare in
Ash and Hunter lay beside each other on the soft guestroom bed.They kissed softly, quietly. Their kisses were gentle breaths and butterfly wings, soothing and delicate. The white bed was warm and safe, and as long as they lay together they could float away, kissing cool slow kisses.Hunter traced his thumb along Ash’s lips: her eyes were closed and she breathed softly. For a moment it looked as if she had fallen asleep, tired perhaps from jet lag. But then she opened her eyes and looked up at him.He bent toward her and kissed a corner of her mouth.“I’ve never been here before,” he said.“You’ve never been in your own guesthouse before?” Ash raised an eyebrow.Hunter laughed. “No, I mean, I’ve never been in this position before.”"Oh really?" Ash's voice went up just a little, one octave of jealousy singing in the silent room. You've never laid down in bed with a girl,
"She is like us, Papa. Like you, and me, and Grandpa," Hunter said to his father.The words hung in the air, punctuated by the clatter of silverware against porcelain.Silverio blinked twice, slowly. He turned to his wife: Lavinia met his eyes for a moment and then fixed her gaze down at the fork in the middle of her plate. Then he set his eyes on his son. He smiled at Hunter obligingly, the way one smiles when a well-meaning guest tells a boring story over wine and cheese. He returned to slicing his steak, almost nonchalant, as though he had heard something only vaguely interesting."Is she now?" Silverio asked without looking up from his plate."She is," Hunter answered, his gaze never leaving his father's face. His own plate was still untouched. He continued to hold Ash's hand under the table.Silverio chewed carefully on a piece of steak. He took a sip of water. He set the glass down and placed both of his hands on the table, palms flat."And how is she the same as you, me, and yo
The dark-haired woman hovered over the young girl, lying asleep on the bed. She smoothed the girl’s hair away from her forehead, whispering soothing words as she did. She felt the girl’s pulse and patted her hand. The girl was going to be fine, but a mother’s worry knew no end, even for children who were not her own.After Ash passed out in her chair, Hunter carried her out to the guesthouse while Lavinia followed behind her son. Ten, fifteen minutes went by and when Ash still did not wake, she sent her son to go to his father and promised that she would watch his guest.Hunter left reluctantly, squeezing the sleeping girl’s hand before leaving. The girl gave no indication that she felt anything.Lavinia looked closely at his son’s guest. The one he had referred to as his “girlfriend” but had not assented to the title. This was the first girl her son had brought to meet them.Ash was a blossoming young woman. She had the healthy glow of youth, with glossy black hair and smooth skin. S
”Mama!” Ash cried out.Lavinia drew back a little, surprised. Ash was still lying flat on the bed but she had tightened her grip around Lavinia’s hands. Her eyes looked sad and relieved, she had the expression of a child who had just woken up from a nightmare, relieved to find a parent by their side.“Mama?” Ash asked, this time sounding less sure.Lavinia merely patted Ash’s hand. She wasn’t sure how to respond, so she chose to keep quiet. Saying “yes” would have been easy and assuring, but ultimately confusing, whereas an outright “no” would have seemed dismissive, perhaps even insulting. She thought it better for the girl to answer her own question.Ash focused her eyes on the dark-haired woman who was holding her hand. She had emerged from her sleep convinced that this woman was her mother, but she clearly she wasn’t. This was Hunter’s mother, not hers.As her vision focused on the woman's face, realization set. Ash felt tears start to pool in her eyes. Hunter’s mother kept pattin
Ash lay next to Hunter on the bed in the guestroom. She felt tired from her head down to her toes. She had cried for what seemed like a long time, but it was only about twenty minutes. Twenty minutes of grief for a childhood lost.Ash’s mother did not have a funeral. She had no living relatives in the country where she died, so no one had come forward to make funeral arrangements for her. Even after her death was reported on the news, no friends or coworkers came forward looking for her or her daughter. Ash's father was still missing at the time, and it seemed no one was looking for him either.Narra Flores Parker had died alone, leaving her only daughter alone. Ash did not know where her mother’s body was or what happened to it. She had never thought to ask. The matter had been taken care of and Ash had been too young to know to ask any questions.Ash was eighteen now. She was an adult. She had a right to know where her mother’s body was buried. She would demand this information f
Hunter felt his breath catch in his throat. He wanted to move and yet he felt like he couldn’t. He was struck dumb by the vision he saw in front of him. “Holy . . .” His voice trailed off. There was no other word for it, really. Ash was an apparition and he was afraid that if he moved, the vision would disappear. He was struck by how utterly perfect she looked in the light. Her hair, her face, her skin, her whole naked body: love made her look perfect in his eyes. He started to get up from the bed, to pull himself toward her, but she pushed him down with her hands, crushing her lips against his. He ran his hands over the length of her body, feeling as much of her silk skin as he could. All the while he tasted her sweet mouth, desperate to take as much of her taste as he could. She felt him remove his clothes: first his shirt, then his pants, and finally his boxers. Each article of clothing didn't take more than a few seconds to remove but every movement that took her lips away fro
Hunter stood in the shower for a long time. He let the warm water flow over him as cold feelings ran deep in his gut.Not so long ago, a girl at Saint Blaise’s had told him that she loved him. They had been friends for a while and she was a nice girl, but Hunter hadn’t been interested in her like that.The girl's name was Bethany. They were sophomores then. She was beautiful in the standard Western way: tall with long blonde hair and green eyes. She wasn't academically inclined but she was charming and worldly. Of course, it went without saying that she was a rich girl.Bethany had kissed him at a party and told him that she loved him. They had been drinking and dancing with their friends all night when she suddenly took him aside on some pretense or other. When they were alone and away from the others, she had told him she had feelings for him. It had been awkward. He had laughed at her and told her to stop playing around. He had told her that she was just drunk and that she would fo