Heather Buyce-Vasquez
Lyllian, Somewhere
It is night. There is a silence so profound it feels as though she is the only person on the planet. Her hand is caressing a chain around her neck. She waits for him under the trees just off the narrow road that leads into the town. Very faintly now she can hear the gentle lapping of the black river at her back.
He comes around the bend a dark silhouette against the bruised night sky. His lips find hers in the dark. His hands encircle her waist and she is held fast in his arms. There is nothing and no one else. The cold breeze lifts her brown curls but all she can feel is his lips on her lips and his eyes on her every movement. She feels reckless and impatient. Things feel so uncertain. Everyone and everything stands on the edge of a knife. She wants to tell him she loves him. That she lies in her bed at night imagining he is by her side. That there is Spring outside, birds and flowers and new birth instead of the cold hard ground and skeletal trees. She knows he wants her to be his. To keep his home and children. Her body aches to be parted but her mind is always so far away. On places she has never been but knows are there. The vast world beyond her little town. Where women can be who they want. She is of two minds. It has already begun.
The cold rough tongue is licking Lyllian’s cheek. Her eyes are open in astonishment. There is sunlight streaming through the window and its warmth feels good upon her skin. She is wearing only a thin tank top and panties. Gently she pushes Hazel away and swings herself out of bed. It was another dream. So real she feels the burn of his lips on hers. She touches her lips and they feel bruised. Her skin feels alive. A fluttering of anxiety rises in her throat. But in the next moment Michael has come into their bedroom with her X-Files mug steaming with coffee.
“There she is. With mamma.” He croons at Hazel. He pats her bouncing little bottom and plants a soft kiss on Lyllian’s forehead. “Eggs?”