Page 49 of Isle of Pain

“How do you feel after tonight?”

She sighs heavily as she sits next to me, caressing Ember’s head.

“I’ve read a lot of material about this type of relationship over the past month. And all the blogs, whether they were written by submissive or dominant people, they all describe that deep space within yourself where nothing exists. Like you transcend the physical plain or something.” She looks up and meets my eyes, smiling bashfully for the first time since I met her. I lift a handto touch her cheek and she leans into me like a cat. “That’s what I felt. And it could be really addictive.”

“Is that a bad thing?” Battling her addiction is constantly on her mind, she said so herself this evening. Every behaviour driven by the need to drink. I’m a bastard for wanting to replace one addiction with another, but the way I want to consume and own Marie Moretti isn’t rational and I don’t want to control and tame it.

“I don’t think so. We’re not hurting anyone. Well, we’re hurting you but you love it.”

“That I do.”

“Being the hand that dealt you pain, a pain you crave, it made me feel in control. Powerful. Cherished. And the way you came for me,” her voice drops, sinful and enticing. “It was a gift. Even more than when you made me come on your tongue.”

I close my eyes at the image she depicts and turn my focus back to Ember. “Your mamma’s a real tease, Bibi.”

Marie giggles and kisses my cheek with a quick peck.

“Sorry not sorry.” The youthful retort is a reminder that under all the pain and grief, Marie’s young and full of life. “Let’s finish the movie.”

I nod and settle, Ember on my chest and Marie tucked under my arm, sharing the space with her daughter. Before she presses play, she whispers, “If you’ll let me, I’d love to do it again.”

I bend down and kiss the birthmark at the corner of her eyes and the little scar next to her mouth before I agree enthusiastically. Anything for my little bird, until she can fly off her cage.

27

MARIE

SOMETIMES, A MOTHER DOESN’T KNOW

I’m having lunch downtown West Hill with Giulia and Catalina when my phone buzzes. I’m not quick enough to hide the caller ID and Giulia takes a peek before clicking her tongue.

“How many times hasziacalled you over the past six weeks?” she asks, and I know she’s well intentioned but the reproach in her voice is unmistakable.

“A few times a day. I texted her that I was okay,” I answer weakly.

The phone screen switches off again, a voicemail notification lightening it up a few seconds later. My mother has left me a message every single time she’s called. I haven’t listened to any of them. I wonder how many she can leave until my inbox says “full”. Guilt burns a path down my throat before considering leaving them unanswered forever.

“Giulia,” Catalina calls, pretending she didn’t hear everything my cousin just said to me. “I need to check a new set of jewellery before the charity gala at the hospital next weekend.I’d love your opinion. Marie, I can take Ember and give you some time alone.”

She smiles at me and it’s so genuine and devoid of expectation, tears fill my eyes.

“Of course, I’ll join you in a moment.”

Her hand lands on mine, a kind smile spreading on her elegant face. “Take your time,carina. You, Missie, are coming with me.”

Ember laughs freely as Catalina takes her into her arms and sets her on her chest with my sling. It’s the picture of grandmotherly love. Something I’ve refused my own mother ever since she was born, too afraid she would take Ember from me. It’s not guilt I taste in the back of my throat anymore. It’s shame. I’m such a waste of love. My mother doesn’t deserve how I’ve treated her.

When Giulia and Catalina disappear on the corner of the street, I pick up the phone and dial my mother’s number.

“Picculina,” my mother cries. “Oh baby, I’ve missed you so much. Are you okay? Is Ember okay?”

Of course, this would be about Ember.

“She’s okay, mum. I can take care of her.” My tone is petulant and dismissive. I want to fight. I want to push her away. There’s no point in delaying the inevitable. One day or another, my mother will notice the wrong twin died and she’ll hate me for it, if she doesn’t already. Angèle was right. I should spare myself the pain and the rejection and severe our connection already. God, I need a stiff drink. I need to burn that pain away with my favourite liquor. Now that both Giulia and Catalina are gone, it’s the perfect moment to shop for what I need most.

I barely hear my mother as my half-baked plan comes into fruition when I step foot into the small supermarket across the road from the cafe I was just seated at.

“You know, I think it’s time for you to come back home but if you prefer, we can also come visit the Capaldis. It’s been so long since your dad and I traveled. And with Lana at the head of the family, we have time.”

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