Massimo
The car pulls up in front of the manor and there they are. Alejandra, in denim shorts, and a mustard yellow knitted top, holding our daughter, Aurora who is dressed to match, and our son, Alessio. We both got what we wished for. The little man is already a rogue, and I’m sure he took after his mother, not me.
I take long strides toward them and Aurora is already bouncing in her mother’s arms, screaming Dada, whereas Alessio is more interested in picking apart his toy on the floor.
“Dada,” she giggles, stretching as I take her from her mother and plant a kiss on her lips, cheeks, and forehead, a little into her jet-black hair. Then I kiss her mother on the lips.
I won’t hear the last of it. I kissed Aurora before her. I squat to Alessio’s level and he notices me, then flashes me a smile, stretching his toy to me to fix.
Is that all I’m good for, little man? I ruffle his brown hair and lift him to plant a kiss on his cheek. Forget about his sapphire eyes, he takes after his mother, for my sake, I hope.
“Set?” I kiss Alejandra on her temple.
“Why are you asking me, ask your new wife Aurora,” she pouts and starts walking to the hangar.
I knew it. This war didn’t start now. Aurora is mostly everywhere around me. Under my desk in the office, sneaking to sleep between her mother and me, and I have started to eat better because of her. She is a terrible eater so I had to eat with her to make her eat. How can I not? Have you seen my daughter with eyes like her mother’s and hair like my mother’s? A combination of the two people I love the most.
I trail after Alejandra to the private jet waiting for us. We get in and settle into the seats, with Alejandra pressing her lips together to hold back her smile. She is full of it. We are going to Spain to see her family and spend some time with them. It’s about time I take her mother up on the meal promise.
The last time she visited, I only at a small portion of every meal she made. This time, I’ll do better, not so much, but way better than I have ever done when it comes to eating.
For most of our flight, Alejandra talks about a romantic comedy movie she saw last night. Alessio and Aurora are keeping busy eating, sleeping, crying, fighting with each other, and making sure I and their mother don’t go anywhere without them.
We arrive at the airport to her family holding out placards and flashing welcoming bright smiles. Her father’s minivan drives us to their homely country house surrounded by tomatoes farms, and a few houses of the same kind of brick and washed peach color paint scattered about in the distance.
The neighborhood is both quiet and loud. Not much noise is heard but kids and families are outside, waving at us and her father makes sure to stop occasionally and introduce us to some of the people around.
When we get in, Alejandra goes to curl beside her father and her little brother, Luis keeps tailing her mother as she gets busy trying to set the table for us. Although Alejandra did not know at the time, her mother had been in the first weeks of an unexpected pregnancy at the time of her abduction. Luis was born months after Alejandra’s disapperance and was probably the main reasons her parents were able to hold it together despite to the pain and horror of their daughter’s vanishing and the driving force to go on.
Inside is a reflection of their warmness. The smell of spices that I recognize from when her mother visited, and the local raspberry scent. It’s like everyone is uses the same body spray, and it’s lovely. It’s calming and welcoming.
Family pictures line the walls, including some of Alejandra as a teenager. My favorite is the one where she is standing beside a cardboard mansion built by her. Some pictures of her little brother, Abuela, and grandfather she wasn’t born to see line the walls too. Then a recent family photo of them at our wedding is sitting on a box television.
“Welcome,” her mother is at it again for the millionth time since we arrived at the airport, only this time she is pointing at the table.
Loud Spanish calls are thrown around about the twins and who they look like more bouncing from Abuela, to her father, to her aunt, to some extended family members. I am trying to keep up as we feast. It sure takes a village, because this is a village we are eating with now.
Bliss. One word to describe this new world I’ve been gifted.
“That is so not true!” Alejandra shrieks, laughing, as we walk around the Alhambra Palace in Granada.
After dinner, where I ate much too much, her family offered to look after the twins so we could explore the city. Her mother added that they wouldn’t be waiting up for us and she’d make breakfast ready for us by morning.
The palace lives up to the descriptions Alejandra won’t stop bugging me with each time she has an assignment to sketch something. She is always on the lookout for designs that hold universal beauty and are exceptional expressions of creative depth and rich culture. She thinks buildings should tell stories and this one tells a story, alright.
I just narrated the story I think this one is telling us, about the time the lord asked his lady to hold on to the pillar while he fucked her from behind.
“Why else would anyone have this many pillars?” I raise an eyebrow, a new expression that I use often to communicate with the kids to show my disapproval of something.
“Pillars are to hold the structure,” she giggles, scurrying forward and spreading her arms wide open as if to fly.
“They will do just fine holding the structure in the meantime,” I look at them. I mean I know they are to hold the structure but fuck me if they don’t make me want to test that theory.
“You are one hell of a man, Massimo Gaeta,” she scampers back to me, and wraps her arms around my waist.
“You know that already,” I dip my head.
“I do,” she says meeting my lips with hers.
“We should try it though,” I kiss her softly.
“We should keep my muse untainted,” she kisses me softly.
“And I was thinking I’m your muse,” I deepen the kiss.
“Are you jealous of a building now Massimo Gaeta?” She gives me her tongue and I suck on it, relishing the chocolate taste on her tongue from the cake we had for dessert.
“How can I not be,” I say, thanking hell it’s not a person because I’d have a hard time competing with this one for her heart. “Don’t fuck with me,” I let her lead the way.
“Oh, I will,” she laughs.
“You’ll fuck me?”
“Admit I’m your muse.”
“You are being petty.”
I scowl at the majestic building with its unmatched regality.
She stops and looks me in the eye.
“You are a wish, you are a masterpiece, and I can only pray I’ll be able to create something as surreal as you, but every day that I look at you, I see how futile that prayer is,” she closes the distance and I inhale sharply.
Hear that Alhambra?
“I love you,” I cup her face with both palms and I press my lips against hers in a sealing kiss.
Breathtaking sunset-lit scenery, with a breathtaking olive-skinned woman?
Breath taken.
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