Page 25 of Isle of Pain

“You got her a seat?” Marie asks barely above a whisper.

I nod and just stand there, waiting for her next move.

“Nico got you a seat, Bibi,” she coos as she caresses the baby’s head of thin dark hair. “She was asleep most of the flight so I’m a bit scared to wake her up and have her be all fussy and distraught.” Slowly, she unclasps the carrier at the shoulders and takes Ember into her arms. I don’t notice how my body gravitates closer to both of them, eager to be in their proximity.

I’ve never seen a baby so up close before.

I must have said that out loud because Marie’s smile is blinding as she looks up at me and asks if I want to hold Ember. I take a step back, a small shiver descending on my body and reminding me that we’re on the tarmac and we should get moving.

“Maybe later. I don’t want to drop her on the asphalt.”

I don’t miss how Marie pinches her lips together as though she’s straining not to laugh. It makes my throat dry and my heart clench strangely in my chest.

Once Ember is secured in her seat at the back, Marie rounds the car and sits next to me on the passenger seat. Her dark dress rides up below her ankles. I’ve seen so many women naked and writhing at the club, the small expanse of skin should not make me clench the steering wheel so hard. I don’t understand anything when it comes to her, but I want more of these feelings and weird sensations.

The ride to my place is silent. My eyes dart between the road, the woman next to me and my rearview mirror where piercing green eyes meet mine every time I look. Ember hasn’t moved or fallen back asleep. It seems she patiently waits for me to bring my gaze back to her. Seeing her safe and relaxed in the back seat of the car warms me up. But unlike the sweltering heat of summer or when I have nightmares about that fateful night, it’s glowing and enjoyable.

When I turn on the dirt road that leads to my house, Marie’s lips part open. Lush green trees surround the property and in the middle of all that green, the fields of Scottish bluebells bring pops of dark blue that expands as far as the eyes can see. They’ve been in bloom since May and will remain there until the first temperature drops at the beginning of Fall.

“Nico,” Marie says in awe in her husky voice. “This is so beautiful.”

I preen under her attention even if the comment is about the woodland.

I park the car in front of my house, an old farmhouse renovated with dark metal and wide glass walls everywhere. If there ever was a fire in my house, it wouldn’t burn down. Even the small terrace at the back, looking over the forest, has been doused in fire repellant.

As we get out of the car, Marie takes a few seconds standing and looking around in bewilderment before she walks to take Ember into her arms. “Is this where you live all year?” she asks.

“Yes. I like the quiet.” I point towards a path in between the trees. “Through this path is Andrea and Giulia’s house. It’s a good fifteen minutes by foot. By car, you’d have to come out the same way we came in and take the next left into another dirt road.”

Ember’s cries fill the space between us so suddenly I almost jump back.

“I need to get inside and feed her,” Marie says with a bashful tip of her lips.

I take the small suitcase from the boot, deciding not to mention that she packed light. She doesn’t need to know that I have every intention of having her here with me indefinitely. Until this very second, I wasn’t sure that’s what I wanted. But seeing Marie in my kitchen, with Ember in one arm and the other taking formula and a bottle from the innocuous tote bagshe carried, ready to prepare what she needs for the baby, I want to see this tableau every day.

Jumping into action, I heat up some water in the kettle. As though we’ve done this before, Marie instructs me to pour formula into the bottle then half hot and half cold water before I mix it up.

“Thank you,” she says before letting a few drops land on her wrist. I file that tidbit of information for later and watch as she sits into my couch and feeds a wailing Ember. Marie’s body relaxes and her eyes become droopy. She’s at ease here. The room is silent save for Ember’s gulps.

“You need to sleep,” I tell Marie.

Her eyes are locked onto Ember’s face but her chin trembles slightly. I edge closer, ready to catch her if she falls.

“I know, but I can’t.” Her voice breaks. I want to jump to the couch next to her and hold her. Hold them. But I’ve never touched someone so intensely and I’m scared it might be too much all at once. I’m rooted in place, needing to go to her but not knowing how. I’ve never wanted to be normal before, but right now, I wish I could just hold this girl who’s about to cry and promise I’d never let go. Instead I interlace my hands together and wait. Space is the only thing I can give her.

She rewards my silence with more pieces of her. “I’ve never slept alone. Ever since… Now, whenever I’m alone in my bed, I can’t fall asleep. The only time I can close my eyes are in between moments. On the couch. In front of the TV. And it’s never restful. I’m so tired, Nico.” A sob rakes her body but she holds it in.

I move to sit next to her. “I can feed her. And you can sleep here. I’ll stay next to you.”

A deprecating scoff leaves her lips but her green eyes plead for me to follow through with my offer. “You surely have other things to do.”

“No. I don’t. If you show me how to hold her, then you can sleep, Marie.”

I’m feigning nonchalance. Inside, I’m freaking out.

Where do I put my hands? How do I make sure I don’t drop her? What if she doesn’t like that it’s me carrying her. What if she doesn’t like other people touching her, like I do? What if I don’t?

I open my arms, ready to receive the little bundle wrapped in Marie’s arms. Hesitantly and carefully, Marie pops the bottle out of Ember’s mouth. Threatening wails reach my ears and I smile. I like how predictable Ember is. She’s hungry so she’ll cry until she’s fed. Got it.

---