A 21st Century Courtesan (33 page)
Read A 21st Century Courtesan Online
Authors: Eden Bradley
Enzo is smiling at me, as though he is truly pleased for me. He nods for me to continue, and I do.
“This man … Joshua has come into my life at the right time. No matter what happens, this experience has changed me. And I needed to change. But now … I don't know what happens now.”
“What would you like to happen?”
“Do you mean in my little fantasy world in my head? Or in terms of what is actually possible?”
“Perhaps a little of both.”
I stop to bring the cappuccino to my lips, sip it, buying time to think, focusing for a few moments on the people passing by on the street. There is a young boy on a blue bicycle, a woman holding the hands of two small children. A couple with their arms twined around each other. They are absorbed in each other, rapt.
“I want… some small sense of normalcy. I want to believe it can happen. I want to do something real with my life. Something to do with art. Or maybe … maybe to be of some help to other girls going through this stuff. I have some ideas about that. Maybe I can find a way to blend the two. But that's still a way off. What I really want is … love. Just that.”
“Ah, yes. This is the crux of it, isn't it? Of life.”
“Yes. I realized that just yesterday. I mean, I really came to understand it. To believe it. But I still have some doubts. Questions. It's hard because I never had any sort of good example. What I saw of it as a kid was almost a farce. My mother's desperation. That wasn't love, even if she thought it was. I knew that even then. And so many of my clients all these years
have been married … including you, Enzo. What does that say about love?” I look up to find his dark, intense gaze on me. I can't tell what he's thinking. “I'm sorry. I don't mean that as any kind of judgment. I'm the last person who would judge you. Who would judge anyone.”
“Valentine, there is something you must understand about me. Something I assumed you already knew. I believe very much in love. I am Italian, after all; I am a man of great passion. Great love. My wife, my mistress. You.”
“Enzo …” But I can't finish. My eyes fill with tears that won't quite come out.
He waves a hand. “My darling Valentine, do you think I would have spent all these years with you, taken you under my wing, if I didn't love you? In my own way, perhaps, yes. But love is love, regardless of the form it takes. And yes, I know, I am not excusing my own behavior. I am simply telling you how I feel. Love is as imperfect as we are. I have abused it, perhaps. Yet love itself remains as beautiful, as essential, as ever.”
“Enzo … How could you have … loved me?
Me?
How could you love someone who does what I do? Who you hire for sex?”
“Would I have had you any other way? Would you have paid attention to an old man if it weren't for the money?”
“God, you make it sound so shallow. Fuck. It was shallow.”
I really do want to cry now. But there have been enough tears. I need to stop the self-pity and pay attention.
“No,
cara
, it was never shallow. You always meant something to me. But we both know what the money was about for you. It wasn't the money itself that was important to you. It was what it symbolized. It was the sense of control it gave you.
And you cannot blame yourself for that, or judge yourself. You are a good person, Valentine. And that is how I loved you, why I will always love you. That is why this man loves you. Why he
should.
Don't be so afraid of love that you turn away from it, Valentine. Don't be afraid that it cannot exist because of anything you might have done.”
I nod. It's becoming clearer to me. I don't know why I need Enzo to validate these things for me; I just do. Maybe because he has been the only person I've truly trusted for the last ten years. The only one in my whole life. Until now. Until Joshua.
“What do you need from me now, Valentine?” he asks quietly.
“You've already given me more than I expected. Everything you've done for me over the years. Talking with me today. Loving me.” I stop, smile at him. “I love him, Enzo,” I say, my voice so soft I can barely hear myself.
He nods, smiles a little, is quiet for several long moments while he sips his cappuccino. “I won't see you after this, Valentine,” he says.
I look at him, at his handsome, lined face. The sincerity and sadness in his dark eyes.
“No.” I smile at him once more, even as new tears fill my eyes.
He grasps my hand again, holds on, his fingers warming mine.
“Remember that I loved you, Valentine, if you remember nothing else.”
“I'll remember everything, Enzo, all you've done for me.”
“No. There is no need. I do what I want. I am a self-indulgent man; I know this. And all of that, it is not important. I think you understand now what is.” He pauses once
more, sets his cup down on the saucer with a small
clink.
“Go to your young man, Valentine. Have a life. Have love.”
He stands, and I can hardly bear to see him go. Yet I can't wait another moment to call Joshua.
Enzo takes my hand, lifts it to his lips, and kisses it carefully, his lips warm and dry. Sweet. My heart is breaking, and so full at the same time!
“Be well, my Valentine.”
“Enzo. I'll miss you!”
He smiles, a real smile this time, even if the sadness lingers at the corners of his eyes. “No. No, you won't.”
I watch him walk away, two women turning to admire his elegant form as he strolls down the street as if he doesn't have a care in the world.
I pull my cell phone out of my purse with shaking hands.
Joshua.
I dial, wait the endless moments for the phone to make the international connection. My pulse is a hammer in my veins, threatening to break me.
Please answer …
“Joshua Spencer.”
My heart lurches at the sound of his voice, and it takes me a moment to find mine.
“Hello?”
“Joshua.”
“Valentine?”
“Joshua!”
And then I'm crying, so hard I can't speak. He'll be angry with me, I'm certain, and I can't blame him. Oh, God, what if he doesn't want me, after all I've put him through? After what I've finally discovered?
“Valentine, calm clown. What is it? Where are you? Are you okay? Talk to me.”
“Joshua … I have so much to tell you.”
“Then tell me.”
I can picture his face, his hazel eyes, his dark lashes. I can imagine the intensity of his beautiful features. I can't stand it that he's so far away.
“I'm so sorry, Joshua. That I had to go away. That I was so confused. I didn't mean to be melodramatic. But… I think … I think I understand now.”
“What do you understand, Valentine?” His voice is soft, uncertain.
“That I love you. I love you. That it's all that really matters.” The tears are coming so hard now, I can't see. It doesn't matter. All that matters is how I feel, Joshua's voice on the other end of the line. “God, I love you.”
“Valentine. God damn it.” I hear his voice break. “I need to be with you. I need to hold you.”
“Yes, I need all of that. I need you. I finally get it. I get that I need you, and that it's okay. I'm not so scared anymore. Because I finally believe it, Joshua. I believe in love. I believe I can have it, that it's real. That it means something. That it carries its own power. But, Joshua … what if I don't do it right?”
“There is no right way. That's one of the ideas you have to let go. There is no perfect relationship. There are no perfect people. We all just flounder around and hope everything turns out okay. I don't expect you to be perfect. I just expect you to be you, to be true to your feelings.”
“I think I finally can be. I think I've finally figured out a way to integrate all of those parts of myself we talked about.
I know where to begin, anyway. I need to begin by trusting myself. Trusting how I feel about you. Trusting that love
can
get me through. Can get
us
through.”
“It was so damn hard to let you go, Valentine, but I knew I had to. That you really did have to figure some of this stuff out for yourself. Tell me what's happened. I need to know.”
I wipe the tears from my cheeks, take a deep breath. “I found … faith. In some ways, it's as simple as that. There's more, but that's the most crucial part. We can talk about the rest when I see you. I can't wait to see you. I want to love you, Joshua. I want to accept that you love me. And I do. I believe it.”
“Valentine …” His voice is gruff with emotion. I've hurt him so much.
“It's still hard. The old stuff hasn't entirely gone away. You've helped me so much, even though it's taken a while for me to absorb it all, and I know I'm not done yet. But I want to be with you while I do it. Is that…” I have to stop. I can hardly stand to ask him, to hear his answer. “Is it okay with you? Can we … Joshua …”
“Valentine, I love you. Come to me. We'll do this together. That's what I've been trying to tell you. Just come to me.”
“God, Joshua. I love you.”
“I love you, baby.”
How is it possible that I have this? That somehow I've come full circle, only to end in a better place than I started? But this is my new reality. Impossible. And yet, here it is. Love. The one intangible thing in my life. The one thing I've always yearned for, even if I never knew it.
He loves me. And I love him in a way that is so powerful, it makes anything possible.
“Joshua, I love you so much. And I need you. Not just anyone, not just an escape. But
you?
”
I know what I have to do. And I know what I want. And for the first time, these things are one and the same. I'm finally able to let the past go. To move beyond it. And to truly live. To truly love. To find myself, on my own and with this amazing man. His love for me, my love for him, redeems me as nothing else could.
For the first time in my life, I am no longer flying without a net.
“Come to me, Valentine. I can't wait.”
“I'm coming. I'm coming home.”
THE SUN IS SETTING
in a blaze of fall glory outside the windows of our home. It used to be Joshua's home, but over the last year it has become mine, ours.
I can't believe it's been a year. I can't believe what I've learned in that year with him. How happy we've been together. Not that every moment has been easy. But it's all been beautiful, even the hard parts.
I am a different person now, yet essentially the same, which is what Joshua was trying to tell me from the start, what Lydia reminds me of all the time, what Enzo told me in Rome: that who I
am
is good enough.
“Valentine,” Joshua calls from the bathroom, “you almost ready to go?”
“Almost.”
“Roy called. He and Carrie are meeting us there a few minutes early.”
“Okay, good.”
So nice to have friends in my life. Unbelievable still, sometimes.
Carrie and Roy are good people; supportive, kind. Normal people. They've heard my story, the one I will tell in front of two hundred people tonight. And they're still my friends.
I pull my gaze from the window back to the mirror over the dresser. I look very much the same as I always have. Just happier. And my eyes are alive with excitement, with nerves.
I pick up the lovely, square-cut emerald Joshua gave me when I came home from Rome from a shallow bowl on the dresser, struggle to get the long, gold chain hooked. Joshua comes up behind me, takes the necklace from my fumbling fingers, and fastens the clasp, turns me around in his arms. I can smell the soap on him; his hair is still damp from the shower. I want to take him to bed right now. I always want him, but I love it when he's clean like this, with a fresh shave, making his face look innocent, sweet, except for that small scar, the wicked gleam in his hazel eyes.
“Do I look alright?” I ask him.
“Beautiful as always, baby.”
“But am I… presentable?”
“Don't worry so much. You'll be fine. You'll be wonderful.” He strokes my cheek with one fingertip, making me shiver. He always has that effect on me. No matter what else is on my mind, a lovely, momentary distraction.
“I've never spoken in front of a group before. And this is so important.”
“I know it is. But you'll be fine
because
it's so important to you.”
“This” is the first big fundraiser for my foundation, Lost Girls. We plan to open by next summer. A halfway house, a job training program. I've already made connections with two of the local drug treatment programs, been shameless in hitting up people I know in the film industry for donations,
using my old connections, as odd as that seems. But it's been a way for me to turn the shit that was my old life into something positive. I even asked Deirdre. The witch surprised me by sending a check for twenty thousand dollars.
Joshua's invited everyone he knows, people he works with, people I've come to know. He's proud of me.
I'm
proud of me.
I lean into Joshua, breathe him in, feel the solid strength of his body beneath my cheek.
“I couldn't do this without you,” I tell him.
“Sure you could. You've always had the strength, Valentine. You just had to learn to see it.”
“I really want to make a difference.”
“You will. You're the right person to do this, after what you've been through. You're a survivor. That's part of your gift to them.”
“I feel like I'm finally doing something worthwhile with my life. I have purpose. And I have you.”
He squeezes my hand, warming me up inside. “Yeah, you do. You always have me. Always.”
He lifts my hand to his lips, kisses the back of my fingers, turns my hand over to kiss my palm, making me shiver.
He's watching me in that way he has that turns my entire body to liquid. His beautiful eyes are gleaming metallic in the amber light: malachite, gold, silver. He leans in, my hand still in his.
He says, his voice low, steady, “Marry me, Valentine.”
I am too stunned to speak. No one has ever said these words to me. I would never have expected them. Not from anyone else. But from Joshua, they sound exactly right. They sound perfect. My pulse is racing, my body lit with a pure, clean pleasure.
My throat is so tight with emotion, it's hard to speak. “I love you, Joshua. So much.”
“You know how much I love you, baby. Say yes.”
“Yes!”
We smile at each other, hugely, foolishly, and it is as though time has stopped and nothing else exists but the two of us in this moment. Together. The rest of the world, my worries about the evening ahead, fades away as he pulls me to him and kisses my smiling mouth. Sweet, lovely kisses. I can never get enough.
My world is perfect, somehow, despite my imperfections. That's what he's been teaching me. That love itself is perfect if we allow it to just
be
, despite how human we are, how flawed. That love can still flourish. And it does.
