Discussing Sadness

I eyed her, trying to determine exactly what she was asking. The thought of what I had said while I was sleeping came back to haunt me again. She kept her eyes on mine, even when fear crept into them. I hated that I didn’t know how to answer her. I hated, even more, that she was scared. I was proud of her for holding my gaze despite her fear. I blinked before looking down, breaking our eye contact. I immediately lifted my eyes back to hers and was relieved to see that my looking away had the desired effect on her. It showed her that I wasn’t trying to assert dominance over her. Eventually, she would be able to hold someone’s gaze forever and not worry that she was in danger of being assaulted. When that happened, I wanted to be the one whose eyes she stared into. I sighed as I stuck my hands in my pockets.
“Sometimes, I do, Leah,” I admitted softly.
Her eyes widened in surprise before she turned fully towards me. “Why do you lie?”
“Because, Princess, sometimes it’s easier to pretend that your heart isn’t broken into a million pieces.”
She eyed me. “Who made you so sad, R.H.M.?” She asked softly.
“Do you know how I respect your wishes to not speak about certain things?” She nodded. “This is one of those times when I need you to respect that I don’t want to have this conversation.”
She continued to watch me for a moment before nodding. “Alright. Can you answer a few questions for me then?”
“If I can, I will.”
“How long did it take Mister to paint all of these? Can you tell me who all these people are? I recognize you and Ramira, but not the rest of them.” She questioned.
“It’s my family,” I said before snapping my mouth shut.
She reached out to touch a young Madison’s face. “Are you close to Mister?”
“Very,” I replied stiffly.
“Who is she? She doesn’t look like the triplets,” she verbally observed.
“Funny story about that. She’s my brother’s wife’s daughter that he raised from the time she was born.”
“That’s not really a funny story, R.H.M.”
“He’s now in love with her, and they are engaged,” I told her.
Her eyes widened again. “They’re going to get married? How old is she? How old is he? Is it weird for them to be together in that way?” She fired off questions so fast that I chuckled.
“Yes, they are going to get married as soon as they can. 18. 48. And it's not, according to my brother. They are very much in love.”
“How old are you?” She asked.
“50,” I answered.
“You’re younger than I thought you were,” she mused.
I stared at her, unamused. “How old did you think I was?”
“I don’t know. Maybe 80 or 90 tops.”
My jaw dropped. “Do I really look that old?”
She grinned at me as she walked up to me. “No, but if you keep frowning, you will look that way soon.”
“I do not frown!” I denied.
“You do. I can prove it,” she said.
I folded my arms across my chest. “I. Do. Not. Frown.”
She raised her hand to trace the deep frown lines that I knew graced my forehead. “Here. Here. And here.”
She lowered her hand, and I instantly missed her touch. “I think you missed a few,” I muttered.
She touched the side of my mouth where I had permanent, tiny wrinkles. “Here too,” she whispered breathlessly with her eyes on mine.
I slowly raised my hand to press hers against my face. “We can’t all stay as young and beautiful as you are, forever.”
“You think I’m beautiful?”
“Very,” I admitted.
Her hand flexed under mine, and I let her go. Her hand dropped to my chest, fisting my shirt and then flattening against my chest again.
“Do you kiss beautiful women?” She murmured, tilting her head back so she could look into my eyes.
I cupped her face while I rubbed her bottom lip. “Sometimes, when they’re important to me,” I confided.
She closed her hand again, gripping my shirt tightly. “But you kiss me… Does that mean that I’m important to you?”
My thumb stilled on her lip. This woman was going to drive me insane. She already had me halfway there. Her hand came up to circle my wrist.
“Or is this one of those things that you might lie about?” She asked almost silently.
“Leah…”
I wrapped an arm around her waist before pulling her close to my body and pressing my lips against hers. I turned us around as I deepened our kiss. I didn’t want to see Diadra staring at me while I kissed Leah. She wrapped her arms around my neck as she melted against me. When I finally pulled back to breathe, she leaned against my chest, panting.
“Does that mean, yes?” She asked. I nodded. “Are you lying?”
“No, princess, I’m not lying,” I promised her.
“Am I important enough for you to let me help you with your sadness?”
I tensed, once again not knowing how to answer her question. There were a few people who had tried to take my pain away—my siblings, my parents, and even Nero. None of them managed to get even a tenth of the way that Leah had managed to do in just the few days that she had been here. I closed my eyes as I leaned my head on hers.
“I don’t know, Phoenix,” I answered her honestly.
She pulled back to look at me. “Why do you do that?”
“Do what?” I retorted.
“Call me by different names.”
“I don’t!” I denied instantly.
“Yes, you do. You call me Leah when you think that I need to be seen. It’s your way of telling me that you know who I am. You call me Phoenix when I get too close to you. It’s your way of keeping me at arm’s length.”
I took an involuntary step back. “That’s not true!”
She raised her eyebrow at me. “It is!”
“Then why do I call you princess?”
“Because you like me,” she said. “But you’re avoiding the topic. We were discussing your sadness.”
“I don’t want to discuss my sadness. That’s not why you’re here. Can we talk about something else?”
“Sure. What would you like to talk about?” She asked.
“About why you’re here.”
“Okay…”
“How would you express your sadness, Leah?” I asked her softly.
She hesitated before lowering her eyes. I could see that she didn’t want to discuss this. I held my breath while I waited for her next move. If she trusted me with her pain, maybe eventually I could trust her with mine.
“It could be anything, even if it wasn’t me doing it?”
“Yes, anything,” I answered.
“I would ask Mister to do a small portrait for me,” she said as her hand went to the locket around her neck.
“Who would you like to have a portrait of?” I inquired, my voice going even softer.
“My daughter. I lost her 8 months into my pregnancy because Will threw me down six flights of stairs because he didn’t want a little girl. He wanted a boy who would carry on his family name.” She lowered her head, and I saw the teardrop, which fell from her eyelashes, fall to the floor. “I would ask him to put her with his children so she wouldn’t be alone.” She raised her wet, distraught eyes to mine. “How are we supposed to survive when everything that is thrown at us is supposed to make us break?”
I opened my arms to her, and she rushed into them. I wrapped my arms tightly around her while she sobbed. I understood her feelings of grief. I understood her need to cry. I understood her desire to have someone close while being unsure of whether or not she could trust them. I was going through all of the same emotions with her. Every day I was losing more of my distrust of her while she slithered deeper into my soul. I could feel the man I once was fighting to lift his head up again. The desire to hold her was overwhelming, and that was why she was in my arms yet again. I closed my own eyes as tears filled them too. I wasn’t sure why I was crying. It could be because I understood all of her emotions… But it could also be that I already knew that when her journey in Eden ended, I wasn’t sure I was going to be able to let her go. And that terrified me more than anything.