Innocence (6 page)

Though she had stood there for hours, her thoughts were no clearer than they were. The moment Marcus asked her to be with him—forever—she had felt her world tilting, spinning, changing. It was as if he had swooped her up, spun her around in some fun and frightening whirlwind ride. But when she looked at the new path of her life, it seemed to lead inevitably down.

Staring at the city all night had afforded no answers. Now, with the sun encroaching on her living room, she still felt lost. Stiffly she began to move, her body miserable and lifeless at the start of a new day. The apartment around her was bleak, cold, silent as a tomb. The thought fluttered into her mind—
What am I going to tell Marcus?
Immediately she stopped, almost paralyzed again, feeling desperate, alone, scared. She did not know what to make of these feelings. She did not know what she was going to do.

Below, in the street, a dark car pulled up. Two suits got out of the back seat, and crossed to an alley way. In another minute, two suits left, walking wearily and rubbing sleep from their faces—not the same men. A rare view of the changing of the guard. As the two got into the car, one of them looked up at her apartment, to the window where she stood. She pulled back, but not before her breath frosted the cold glass.

I’m trapped.
She realized. The mere thought propelled her back into her apartment. Pulling on a coat, she hurried out the door.
No one should stop me from taking a walk.
She flew down the stairs and then hesitated before turning from the front door.
And why would it be strange for me to take the back hall to the basement door instead?

I need a break,
she told herself as she wove through the back alley ways, glancing back between the trash cans.
I can be alone for a while. It might be a while before they catch on, unless, of course, the back door is watched.

She hurried into the city, past the sleeping neighborhoods and shut up shops.
I just want some space. It isn’t that life isn’t good. Marcus is great. Every thing is fine, fine, fine.

With each step she took her thoughts turned over and over, trying to pick out the truth from the lies she told herself. What did she really feel? She loved Marcus, yes, but what other feelings did she have, submerged under the facts of her perfect life? When the city came awake and alive with noise and traffic, Cora barely looked up.

At one bright corner, she did pause. The fruit sellers were out in droves, the sun was high enough to give the jewel colored wares glorious setting. Cora tried to buy something; she passed her hand over the mounds of grapefruit, lemons, oranges of every shade. Further on were the more exotic: papaya and pineapple, kiwi and starfruit. The old fruit seller appeared before her, offering a free sample. It was a red fruit, duller than an apple, but inside filled with glistening seeds. Obediently, she tried a few of the juicy pips. Smiling, the seller pressed her to eat more. Cora stretched out her hand, saw the red jewel on her finger, and began to tremble. Throwing a bill to the old man, she fled.

Morning overtook her. With beautiful dress and high heels peeking out from below the long coat, she walked on, ducking down quieter streets. There were houses, homes of white stone with iron gates to keep them safe. She paused in every garden square, seeing the flowers, remembering the jungle greenhouse Marcus had taken her to.

Say yes.

Though noon was high over her, she shivered. When the sun set, she knew she would have to go back. Finally realizing her legs were aching, she went into a donation shop to swap her fine clothes in for faded jeans and a grey sweater.

“Long night, honey?” the woman behind the counter asked. Cora nodded, and left her discarded dress and heels along with the change. At the nearest café, she sat and breathed deeply with her legs tucked up under her. It had taken some presence of mind at the goodwill shop not remove the jewelry.

It would be so easy to slip away…but where to go? Cora considered. She had left her friends, her old home out west. Her aunt, her closest relative, had disappeared.

All I have is Marcus—him and everything he’s given me. He is my world.

She realized she was twisting her ring. The night before, she had asked for time. Before they parted, after one last kiss, Marcus had slipped the ring onto her finger.

“Keep it,” he had said. “I want you, no matter if you say yes.” Rather than press it back onto him and see the pain in his eyes, she had looked down, nodded. Now she wondered. What had made him so confident? Her hand moved down from her finger to her wrist to pluck at the silver chain.
No matter what I say or do, he knows I’m his.

“Miss, do you want to order something? Coffee, or…”

Cora looked up at the waiter and shook her head, “No. I mean, I’ll pay to sit here, but I only want water.” She couldn’t possibly eat.

Still, the man stood waiting expectantly.

“Here,” she fumbled with her wallet, drawing out a bill. From some hidden fold, a larger one fell out on the table. There was a slight gasp from the wait staff at the digits on the second bill.

“Oh,” she mumbled, smoothing out the second bill. Marcus must have slipped it in her wallet; his idea of a joke—she still had a job and Marcus never let her pay for anything. “Well, just take it,” she offered, but the man was drawing back nervously. He went to whisper to a manager.

Meanwhile, a young mother came in, pushing a stroller with another toddling behind. She used the stroller to prop the door, help the child through, and was losing the battle to keep the door open when Cora stepped in.

“Thank you,” the young woman said, and Cora felt a rush of warmth. She watched the toddler move back to his place clinging to his mother’s pocket, other hand in mouth. Perhaps she should ask Marcus if he ever wanted children. The thought struck her. She really didn’t know anything about him. But when she was with him, all her questions melted away.

When she returned to her table, the café help had filled her table with plates of pastries, fruit and a whole coffee service. Cora shook her head but they left it all, adding three bottles of designer mineral water. The other customers were staring.

Sighing, she grabbed a paper. This day was hers to waste in walks and bury in papers, if she chose. She skimmed the fashion pages, grew quickly bored, and flipped to the news columns.

Rise in violence, streets unsafe.
The headline caught her eye.
Police helpless in war between crime lords. Criminals must choose sides. Man found dead, multiple stab wounds—most likely gang violence.
The cold print rolled on down the page.

The opinion column on the next one was headed
Unrest in Underworld
, and full of theories about crime families, changing leadership and black market business takeovers that left hustlers, thugs and kingpins alike dead at the scene. “
Now even murderers need protection
,” was the writer’s attempt at black humor. Below was a picture of the man, the war’s most recent victim. Once glance at the marred face and Cora got up so suddenly her chair fell over.

“May I help, miss?” the manager and waiter rushed to her side, but she had already righted her chair, mumbling to herself.

“Everything okay?” the young mother was nearby with toddler and stroller in tow. For now Cora was shuffling the newspaper, a pathetic attempt to reorder them, to hide the face of the man who had come to her that night to warn her.

“Yes, I’m fine. Here,” Cora gave up with the paper and gestured to the table laden with food. “You can have this. I didn’t touch it.” The young mother looked startled.

“She can have it all,” Cora told the manager and waiter, and, while they stared, picked up her purse and fled.

As she left the café, she noticed a white van parked near the café, somehow out of place. Even in her distress, Cora paused to think what seemed wrong about it: the butcher the van might have been making deliveries to was on the opposite side of the street. There was a man standing by it, taking a smoke break. Or maybe that was what it was supposed to look like— the cigarette wasn’t lit and he never brought it to his mouth. Instead, the delivery man, if that’s who he was, was watching her. Shrugging deeper into her coat and flipping up the coat collar, she turned and hurried down the nearest alley.

The journey back home somehow seemed even longer. In the day’s declining hours, she made her way back across the city by a few landmarks. Tiredness was taking over, but she was sure that the white van was following her. Occasionally she caught a glimpse of it around a corner or at a stoplight. At some point, the white van disappeared and a black car took over, cruising slowly enough to be noticed.

She ignored it. If Sharo was coming to pick her up, let him make the first move and stop the pretending. She would play the game as well as they did.

When she finally hit familiar roads, she hailed a taxi. Arriving at her apartment at dusk, Cora showered and dressed. The second-hand clothes, so dingy beside her other wardrobe, went in a bottom drawer for later. The cell phone Marcus had given her—left behind for the day—was blinking with messages. As if he didn’t have other ways of finding out where she was. She chewed her lip for a moment. All this attention, was it flattering or creepy? When did love cross a line?

She would find out. Tucking her wet hair behind her ears, she turned on all the lights. Then she sat on the couch, and waited.

Not five minutes later the doorbell rang. She closed her eyes, suddenly too tired to move. A second knock, a pause and then the jingling of keys. He let himself in and came to her on noiseless shoes.

“Cora.”

She looked up at him. Dressed as usual in grey suit and tie, he stood with his hands in his pockets and looked her over. She waited, but he had no questions. There was expectancy on his handsome face.

She could play the game. “How was your day?”

“Business as usual. Yours?”

Tiredness overtook resolve. “I was out,” she admitted. “All day. I just needed some time to think…Last night, I couldn’t sleep. I thought I could get tired walking.”

He waited to see if that was all. Cora felt pathetic. Marcus was looking down at her like a parent with a disobedient child.   

But he didn’t chastise her. Taking a seat next to her on the couch, he leaned forward with hands clasped, studying the floor.

“Last night was…a dream come true. I wanted to sweep you off your feet, this great crescendo up to the ring, right up to when you said yes.” He was twisting a ring he wore on his finger, not looking at her. “I’ve done everything I know to do for you, Cora. I’ve never felt this way with any girl. And, last night, I guess…” he paused. “I just got carried away. I wanted it to be perfect.”

“It was perfect,” Cora said in a soft voice. Marcus finally looked at her.

“I want you. I…love you. When I look at my life without…” he trailed away. He paused for a moment with a bent head.

“You redeem me.” He said finally. “Your innocence. I didn’t know I needed it until I met you. I don’t know what I’d do if I lost it.” 

Cora looked into his dark eyes, searching them. She found nothing but sincerity.

Emboldened by her gaze, Marcus took her hands. “I’m telling you sorry for pushing. I just wanted to get started. Life with you, babe, it’s just gonna be so good.”

“Marcus, I—” the words caught in her throat. “I forgive you.”

Raising her hands to his lips, Marcus kissed them. His eyes were fixed on hers; she couldn’t hold the gaze any longer. His moves were too good; she couldn’t win. When he opened his arms, she leaned into him. Exhausted, she again closed her eyes, pretended she was home.

*

Held in the light of the fire, Cora dozed as Marcus stroked her arm, his lips at her temple. Second by second, she would fade into sleep, only to wake and see him watching her.

“Hi,” she murmured lazily, smiling.

“Hey, kid,” he lowered his lips to hers.

She was still smiling when he pulled away, but he looked more serious. “How have you been sleeping?”

“Okay,” she said. It had been a week since the long day of walking. “I’ll sleep well tonight,” she added, so his frown would not deepen.

“I bet you will,” another kiss. “But I want you to be happy.”

“I am happy,” she said. “It’s just…” she couldn’t find the words, and sighed. She watched the firelight for a moment, trying to think what might possibly be wrong with her life. Over the course of a week, so much had changed. She hadn’t said yes to the proposal, but Marcus had been sweeter than ever. Of the suits who usually watched over her, there had been no sign.
I can play this game.
That afternoon, he had picked her up from her apartment, driven her himself to a spa in the hills. Dinner was waiting in front of the fireplace, and, after the final course of strawberries and champagne, Marcus drew her into his arms on the thick hearth rug.

“I just don’t know,” Cora finished, embarrassed at her non-answer. She started to pull away from Marcus to get up, but he said, “No, no, don’t go,” and held her more tightly. She let him, content to be trapped against his chest.

“I think I know what it is,” he murmured. “You’re bored.”

“Oh really,” Cora snorted.