My Mother's Boyfriend

He Visits me

Maya

“Four years?” I gawked at the woman who was to teach us; me and four others. They all gave me incredulous looks.

“Yes, dear. Playwrights pursue formal education, such as a Bachelor's degree in Creative Writing, Theatre and Literature. Playwriting is not a joking matter and requires practice and lots of experience. You will spend the next year honing skills through workshops, independent studies and groups. Questions?” The skinny woman with curls of thick hair, held together by a tiny metal clip, looks down her nose at me as if waiting for another outburst from me.

Bending my head, I stared at the marble floor. I do not say, I had been told it was a two-year study, but I am thinking of hightailing it back home.

But home to where? Alejandro’s house? To become like the rest of his family? Just wearing designer clothing and fixing my face with the latest beauty products that fit the standards of glamour life, to be judged by others in kind? Home to my father's house of horror? I will never return there, even if Alejandro and I split up.

No thank you.

Let’s just say that in some fantasy world, Ale allows our divorce. Where do I end up? Back home with those creatures that would treat me like scorned meat and marry me off again? And what of my mother? How will I live with myself knowing what I overheard and what it could mean? If I return to that house I will never know what took place in my mother's apartment that led to her demise.

My best option is to remain here.

And why am I even entertaining such thoughts of my husband and I separating?

“Good. While formal education may provide a foundation, and becoming proficient often involves deep sacrifice that involves a lifetime journey, of development.

What?

And so, begins my very first day, at another school.

Almost a month later, my body was going through a fever. A lack of Alejandro. I spent the last week or two screaming into my pillow every night when thoughts of him plagued my mind. His deep voice vibrates into my soul every night when he calls. The way he touched me- my phone rings.

Speak of the devil. “Hello?”

“Tesoro,” his deep voice sends sensations down my spine, and I bite into my bottom lip. Treasure. He uses such words with me. Amore mio, which means my love, Vita mia, which means my life. Dolcezza means sweetheart. He teaches me the difference between the two languages they speak, Spanish and Italian. While I still don’t grasp it fully, I am making out words.

Lying on my bed, I roll over, clutching the phone closely to my ear.

“You ate?” He always asks that.

“Hmm hmm,” I mumble. “I’m still hungry,” I add but I didn't say for what. d**k. Namely, his.

A slight pause then, “Great I brought food.”

Not for food I want to scream, but I muffle out, “Great. What did you get yourself?”

“Beef gyro.”

Even the thought of beef in his mouth does not turn me off. “Eat healthily, will you? How’s everyone? Tony called me today and he seemed a bit withdrawn Ale.” My grandmother’s words are still boiling at the top of my head, but I try to shake it off. She won’t hurt Tony. She loves him, right? “Can you visit him?”

I don’t know if my father will allow it, but I also know he is afraid of Alejandro, so he just might. My mind is filled with thoughts of maybe I should have stayed back to check on my brother myself.

“I can’t baby. Not right now.”

“I know silly. I mean tomorrow or whenever you can, but as soon as possible.”

He became quiet then, “I promise. I will do anything you ask of me, Maya.”

His words touched me and my eyes moistened. "I wasn’t certain if you would- God, I miss you, you know?”

“You miss me and treat me so badly,” came his playful but serious tone.

Remaining silent, I allow my hands to go under my jacket. Maybe I can pleasure myself while he talks. I’ve heard that works.

“It’s cold out here, Maya.”

“So cold,” I agree with him, my hand gripping my swollen br*ast and I suck in my breath when my fingers touched a pleasure point- my n*pple. “Warm me, baby.”

What the hell am I saying and doing? I’m so h*rny, I don’t even care.

“You want me?” he says softly, and I picture him inside our room, seated on a chair. “Like I want you?” He’s bare-chested, legs open wide, in that masculine way he sits.

Hmm-hmm, my index finger encircles my ar*ola.

“Open the door, idiota. (i***t)”

Two minutes later, he’s in me, filling me with sensations. My face was on the mattress, with him behind, begging me again to say his name. One hand fists my hair, pulling my head back and his mouth works against my delicate neck. “You like that?” he says harshly, and I gasp out my delight.

A sliver of common sense comes to me then, and I twist my body out from beneath him mouthing off, “I didn’t get any pill.”

“Pill?” he frowns and enters me again, this time kissing whatever I was about to say away, but I hold on tight for sanity and blurt out the words, stupidly, “Pregnancy ones.”

“Shh relax, I’ll pull out then. I got you baby. I missed you so much. Not a day went by without me wanting you so shh, I need this. We need this.”

That works too, right? Since I came here, there was no reason to take contraceptive tablets because Alejandro was way over there. Anyway, soon the worry of that left and ecstasy took over as he bent my leg in an almost unbelieving position.

Five minutes later, both stated, we giggled when I told him my roommate was home and she must have heard everything. He suggested I move into a single apartment, but I refused to move, telling him I would be too lonely alone.

"Since you're so worried about her, ask her to join us."

His sober tone shook me and I gawked at the naked man who got up to cross the room, opening the bedroom door. He turned back and saw my horrified expression, and he busted out in peals of laughter, to which I responded by first throwing pillows at him, to almost bursting into tears.

"Shh, baby," he tutted and comforted me saying he wouldn't do that, and he was just joking around. While I took solace in his words, in the back of my mind, I thought of the coffee shop woman.

We spoke about home and what he wanted me to tell Tony. And what signs to look for when he spoke to him, but most importantly, I told him to get my brother out of the presence of our father and grandparents.

He left the next day to go back home, but not before ensuring that my legs were weak and wobbly. I could barely stand, let alone make it from room to room.

That seemed to put joy into his day.