Proserpina
I stopped as I saw Lucien. He was at the bottom of the stairs and we stared at each other for a long moment. A bodyguard, big Noah, hovered hesitantly in the shadows, wondering, perhaps, if he should step forward and grab the Boss before he fell down in a drunken heap.
My eyes took in the haggard lined face, the craggy features that I still loved, the muscular physique but with slumped shoulders now. I took the last step and he moved, swaying slightly, almost stumbling.
Lucien Delano was dead drunk.
*
Without stopping to think, I reached out and grabbed his arm, my arm going to encircle his waist, propping him up, and steadying him. The familiar musk and spicy lemon smell of my husband engulfed me. And a rush of whiskey-laden breath hit me. I crinkled my nose in disgust. The man was drowning in drink.
Suddenly, he pulled me into his embrace. Tight and possessive.
I stood still, stiff and unresponsive at first. But my heart yearned to throw my arms around him, for I loved him, would always love him…
He tilted my chin upwards, to look into my eyes, as he growled in a hoarse voice,
‘Proserpina… Woman…”
The grey-blue eyes were warm with pain and suddenly, I could not bear to see him like this.
I wanted to press my lips to his, to that strong face with the scars and the broken and badly mended nose, the commanding stature he had, that always made me weak at the knees. With a sad sigh, I realised that I loved this man, would love him no matter what…
*
I had seen him kill a man with his bare hands but what had really made me terrified was knowing that Lucien could kill and walk away without any remorse.
Like the day he had turned up late one night, almost around 4 in the morning. I had come awake to the sound of the shower; puzzled, I had padded over and stopped short; The bathroom was reeking of …blood?
And from where I stood, I could see him as he soaped himself, the water running red. I rushed forward: Lucien, I cried, are you alright?
And froze at the glacial look in his eyes.
I am, he said shortly.
Like a fool, I queried, staring at the red water,
Whose…?
Then he turned to me, his magnificent body as strong and powerful as ever,
‘I knifed a man’ he said bluntly, brusquely, his eyes never leaving my face.
I took a step back. Lucien looked completely unmoved.
And he went on, correctly reading my horrified expression, snarling,
“This is what I do, woman. You need to accept it. You cannot pretend not to know forever.’
The sneer in his voice made me flinch; he had made me seem like an ostrich, my head buried to shut out reality. But had I not been doing just that? I asked myself. And then, I felt a deadness within me.
As I stumbled back to the bedroom, my mind was in a whirl. I had been the one closing my eyes to the reality of his life, I thought dully.
Lucien came out, in his dressing robe and left for his study.
No words were spoken about this but it lay between us, a wall. Life went on, but a wall had sprung up between us. I loved him and urgently obeyed him in bed, giving him my heart, my soul and my body; for I discovered that it was possible to love and still have reservations. As for Lucien, he never spoke about it again.
*
But today, all the layers seemed to have been peeled off from between us. The man standing before me was a broken, defeated man.
Lucien looked at me, eyes bloodshot but as alert as ever.
“Proserpina,” he said gruffly, ‘Woman, don’t…’
I became rigid as my heart hammered in my chest.
The pleading note in his voice was unmistakable.
In all my years with my formidable Mafia Don, I had never heard him plead, not to anyone, never to me. This new note of desperation, of total loss dawning in his voice stirred something in me.
I met his eyes solemnly. Yes, this was a man who was feeling guilt course through him, a man who was drowning in sorrow.
“Don’t leave me, ‘he said suddenly in a rough mumble before he pulled me into his arms, burying his head in my hair, his arms like bands about me.
“I cannot live without you, Woman.”
*
I had learnt in those years at Bhutan that it is difficult to forgive someone who has hurt you, but letting go is essential.
Now I buried my face in his sweat-soaked shirt, my nose tickled by his curly grey chest hair. The shirt, as always, was unbuttoned to his waist and I sighed as I breathed the smell of this man who had made love to me a million times and more, who had sired all my children, who I loved hopelessly, helplessly.
The sage words of the old Mother, the priestess who had taught me so much, carried across in my mind. When I was leaving the confines of the safe, beautiful world of the monastery, with Lucien, she had blessed me. And I recalled her discourses to the younger nuns.
You have a choice, she used to say, either you carry the burden of this festering anger within you and destroy your happiness and that of those around you.
Or you can forgive.
It will not happen overnight but our hearts are capable of letting go, of moving on and forgiving.
The better option is to let go, for yourself and for the world around you. For Nature listens. Nature gives you what you give her, she would say in her soft, slow way.
*
I bowed my head. I knew what I was going to do.
Smiling gently, I turned to Noah who had moved closer, ready to help.
Shaking my head, I indicated that I could take the Boss upstairs myself. We moved to the escalator and I draped his arm around me so that I was supporting him to stand. His grey eyes flickered, half open but too far gone to say anything.
Gently, slowly, I wound my arms around his waist and helped him into our suite.
*
When we reached the bedroom, I helped him onto the bed as he watched me, his broad chest rising and falling.
‘Take off your shoes,’ I said softly, but he kept looking at me and finally, with an exasperated sigh, I knelt down and took them off for him, taking off his socks as he sat on the bed, gazing at me, an expression on his face like that of a beaten dog…
“Woman… I cannot live without you,” he groaned thickly.
I stood up and once again, became aware of his powerful body. He was thickset, and even sitting on the bed, he was large and I just reached up to his head.
Lovingly, I took his head in my hands.
“Hush…’ I whispered,” Hush…sleep now.’
I kissed his hard lips softly and he made a sound like a man who was drowning as he kissed me back, fervently.
Smiling, breathless, I stepped back.
‘You stink, Lucien Delano, ‘ I dimpled and helped him to take off his clothes. Then, as he lay, half asleep, his face turned to mine, I rolled over onto my stomach and kissed his face, his forehead, his broken nose, the thin, hard lips, stubbled jaw and chin. Trailing his face with soft, loving kisses, I revelled in the spark of love reflected in his grey-blue eyes.
His big hands blindly reached for my breasts, cupping and stroking them lovingly, and tenderly.
“Sleep now, ‘ I said and he smiled slightly, just a twist of those harsh lips before closing his eyes. A look of peace descended upon him. I lay nestled beside him, for he pinned me to his muscular body with his big arm.
There would be no going back; I loved this man and I knew he was hurting because he loved me too.
And that was all that mattered. In the light of the new dawn, I would decide how to deal with the son who had emerged in our happy lives. But tomorrow was another day…
Smiling tiredly, I slept.
*
The woman leaned against the wall as she spoke to the monk.
‘I tried, Father, believe me. I tried.’ she puffed a ring of smoke trying to hide her nervousness, making a perfect smoke circle, although her mouth tightened at the cold silence radiating from the other end of the line.
Father Paval was displeased. And he was not a good man to deal with when he was displeased.
She felt fear snaking down her spine as the silence went on.
“Believe me, she babbled, “the boy will make the Boss…’
Her words were abruptly cut off.
“I will give you some more time, wh*re. Or you will go the way your sister did. But a lot more painfully.’
The threat hung in the air as the phone went dead.