Over the next few days, Abel shows me all of New York City. Anything and everything you can think of, you can find it here. The tall, spiking buildings that touch the clouds; chaotic Times Square with enough lights to brighten up the whole world; shiny, expensive Fifth Avenue; funky, eclectic Union Square that’s made of dreamers.
New York is so big and yet so small. You stand on one end of the street and you can see the string of yellow cabs and traffic lights, all the way down to the other end. The weight of the people has cracked the sidewalks and sagged the dirty leaf-ridden streets in places. And there are so many people.
I learn all the signs, the roads, the avenues. Turns out, no one really gets lost in New York. There’s a neat little system called the grid. Logically numbered avenues and streets. So basically, navigating New York City has to be the easiest thing ever, even for someone as geographically challenged as me. Who knew?
We ride the ferry and see The Statue of Liberty from up close. Abel holds my hand the entire time because he thinks I’m going to fall off the railing even though I’m being careful.
“Well, wouldn’t you jump after me and save me?” I grin up at him, wind in my face and Abel in my eyes.
“No.” He shakes his head, his fingers flexing against mine.
“What? You have to save me. A fiancé is supposed to take care of his would-be bride.” I lift my chin to appear miffed.
“No, a fiancé is supposed to not let his would-be bride fall in the first place.”
I kiss him, then. Because how can I not?
The more I see this city, the more I realize that Abel couldn’t have been born anywhere else. He couldn’t have come from any other place. He was destined to be born here, in a place that’s larger than any dream or imagination. He’s so much more than a golden-haired boy who grew into a man. He’s a god.
A god with a camera.
When I tell him I bought him a new camera with the money I stole from my parents, he gets mad, furious, livid. He doesn’t want anything to do with my parents.
“My dad broke your camera, it’s only fair that he pays for it.”
“I don’t fucking want it, Pixie. I can pay for my own goddamn camera.”
We fight, and then I strip my clothes off and demand that he take my picture with the exact camera that my parents’ money had bought. That gets his attention. I can sense a thrum of excitement in him. It gets me excited too and grinning, I submit to him. He takes snap after snap of me, until his lust becomes the most powerful thing in the room and he has to abandon the impromptu photoshoot to slake it in my body.
He never uses condoms, though. The big idiot. Says he doesn’t want anything between us.
“You’re crazy. You’re literally crazy. Pulling out method doesn’t always work, you know that, right? You wanna populate the Earth with little Abels?”
“Nah, I wanna populate the earth with little Pixies.”
I roll my eyes at him. We’re so young. We can’t have kids. But damn it, it sounds so amazing. If he gets me pregnant, then there’s another bond between us that no one can dare break. But of course, that shouldn’t be the reason to bring a child into this world.
No, a child should be brought into this world for the right reasons. On this, I will never budge.
Although, I will admit that I love the entire process of baby-making. In fact, that’s all I ever want to do. I’m ashamed to admit but there are times when I don’t even want Abel to get out of my body. I wish I could sleep like this, with him buried inside me. I’m not alone in my desires; Abel feels the same way. In fact, even our arguments end up in sex. Especially, when I scream at him to pick up his clothes because he’s a slob, or demand that he close the door while taking a piss, as he calls it.
“Boundaries, Abel!”
He laughs, finishes up his business in the bathroom and fucks me against the wall of the hallway.
“Don’t you get it, Pixie? There’s no place for a boundary between us. I won’t allow it.”
Why does he have to be so insane? Why does it have to turn me on so much? Why don’t I mind drowning in him, in his dark lust and unconventional desires?
Because trust me, they are unconventional.
There’s no consideration of place and time for him. Even if we’re out or riding the subway or walking down the street, he’ll touch me in less than appropriate places. I blush and get mad at him and tell him to cut it out, like I used to back in school corridors, but he doesn’t listen, and that makes me smile.
“Come on, Pixie. What’s the fun in hiding when I can just pick you up, throw you over my shoulder and fuck you against that brick wall right now?”
The brick wall in question is the one in the alley behind a Chinese place we just finished having dinner at.
“You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” he whispers, tugging at my clothes, pressing me into the wall. “I think you would, Pixie. I think you’d love that.”
“N-no.” Even though I say it, I know I’m excited. I know I’m deliberately teasing him.
“You can’t lie for shit, Pixie.” He pulls me toward him and my legs have no choice but to go around him, my spine has no choice but to arch, grinding my core on his hard dick.
“B-but people will see us. We can’t,” I whisper, kissing him, contradicting my words, getting him hotter.
“Let them.” He bites at my lower lip, adjusting my legs around him for a firmer grip, and then puts his hands under my dress and plays with my clit. “Let them see, Pixie. Let them point fingers, curse at us, talk about us. Let them think we’ve got no morals. Because trust me, baby, they are liars. They’ll pretend to be disgusted but when they’re alone, they’ll jerk themselves off. They’ll think we wanna love like them. We wanna be legends like them.”
I’m delirious with lust. My desire is leaching out of my core and drenching his fingers, making wet, sucking sounds. All I know is that I want him inside me. Fuck the streets. Fuck the people. I don’t have it in me to even put up a mock protest.
“Abel…” I whimper.
“But they can’t be, right, Pixie?” He rolls his hips, his hands moving away from my pussy and kneading my butt. “They can’t be legends because there’s only one Abel and Evie, right? Only one Abel and his Pixie. And no one loves like us.”
Yes. No one. Not a single person can love the way we do. Not a single person can understand our desire to flaunt our love.
I’m so turned on, it aches. It literally aches.
“Fuck me now, okay? Just fuck me.”
Chuckling like the devil, he does. He gets his dick out and in me in a flash, and closing my eyes, I smile. This is it. This is our love. Shameless, reckless, a little painful, and a lot glorious.
It’s perfect.
Or rather it would be, if not for this teeny-tiny doubt in my mind.
I don’t know why but I still think that Abel is hiding something from me. I can’t be sure but I have this feeling that just won’t go away. Every time I ask him about his job, he freezes up. Sometimes he avoids talking about it. Sometimes he grows irritated with my questions. He stays up late at night working on his computer but if I catch him, he snaps the lid shut.
Or at least, I think he snaps it shut. I don’t know.
I don’t know if it’s in my head or what. Because my head is not a great place to be. Sometimes I see my dad on the streets. I don’t get spooked the way I did the first time, but still my heart jolts. I hear his voice in my dreams or nightmares, rather. His prophecy about how Abel will be my downfall. And I end up hugging Abel tighter. I can’t make this insecurity go away.
My dad planted a seed of doubt inside me and I hate him for that. I hate myself for tainting the trust I have in my Abel.
I hate that one day the doubt gets so bad that I go behind Abel’s back and open his computer, which is lying on the kitchen counter. I want to see what he works on. But as soon as I open it, a video starts up. A sexy video. A couple is making out, naked. Oh gosh. My cheeks burn even though I’ve seen such things with Abel a few times after we moved here.
The girl is dark haired, her face bunched up in ecstasy and with a slamming heart, I realize I know her. I’ve seen her somewhere, which is ridiculous because where would I have seen her? But for the life of me, I can’t deny that she somewhat looks familiar.
I’m trying to place her and hoping that soon she’ll unclench her facial features or hopefully, the guy’s muscular back won’t block her face as much, when Ethan walks in and my embarrassment gets through the roof.
I hit pause and sit up. He looks at me and then, at the computer. “What are you doing with it?”
“Uh, nothing.” I fidget in my seat.
“That’s mine,” he tells me before snatching the laptop away, making me jerk and flush hotter than ever.
“Oh, I’m-I’m sorry. I was just… I thought it was Abel’s.”
“It’s not.” Ethan presses the computer to his chest, frowning, and then asks in a suspicious tone, “Why were you looking at it when he’s not here?”
“I, uh… Because…” I swallow, my heart hammering. “W-Well, can’t I? I mean, he’s my fiancé. I’m sure I can look at his computer.”
My tone is defensive. Ethan knows it. I know it and I’ve never felt more ashamed of myself. I don’t know if he can tell what my intentions were or if something is wrong but I can’t stand his scrutiny.
What would Abel think if he knew I was spying on him?
I excuse myself and lock myself in our room. Damn it. I can’t believe I did that. I can’t believe I let my dad get to me.
I hate myself. I hate my dad.
Even so, I can’t help but wonder about that woman I saw.
I hate that every evening when Abel comes from work all horny and charged up, my very first thought before I lose myself in lust is why. Why is he so desperate to fuck me? Why’s he so flushed with arousal? Is there a new shine in his eyes? I wonder why he can’t keep his hands off me.
“What’s wrong, honey?” I hate that I ask him this one night when he won’t let me sleep. He just came on my butt and I was drifting off when he turned me on my back, and slid inside me in one go.
He stops, his eyes bright and grip tight. “You’ve never called me that.”
“What?”
“Honey. You’ve never called me that before.”
“Never?”
“No.” He begins rocking, picking up his pace. “I like it. My mom used to call me that.”
“Then I’ll keep calling you that,” I moan, my heart full and my throat choked up.
His thrusts are brutal and even though my pussy is sore and hurting, I don’t want him to stop. I arch my back to let him in even deeper, as deep as he can get. I want him to obliterate all my doubts and suspicions. I want him to purify me with his lust.
Moaning, I rake my nails down his back. He murmurs that I’m the most beautiful woman he’s ever seen and all of a sudden, dread makes a home inside my chest. Despite myself, I begin sweating, shaking so hard that Abel has to stop.
“Pixie?”
Oh my God, it’s obvious. It’s so fucking obvious.
“Hey, Pixie? What’s wrong?” he asks, again.
“Are you sure?” I pull on his hair, unable to stop myself.
“About what?”
“That I’m the most beautiful woman you’ve ever seen?” He’s confused; I can tell. But I need to know. Is that why his behavior has changed?
“Are you sure that you haven’t seen a more beautiful girl than me? At your job, I mean.”
That’s when he gets it.
He’s silent for a second. I see disbelief and hurt flash through his face, and my heart squeezes. I’m an idiot. How can I even think that? Our love is bigger than that. So much bigger. Affairs, cheating… those things are child’s play. Our bond is beyond that kind of crap. I open my mouth to apologize but he barks out a laugh. It’s harsh and sharp-edged. He picks up the pace; in fact, he jackhammers inside me. The room echoes with his pounding and all I can do is clench that silver cross between my teeth to keep myself from screaming too loud.
We both come at the same time. He spills his cum on my stomach and collapses on me. His weight’s too much but I don’t let him go. I hug him tight.
“If you think that, Pixie, then my entire life has been a waste. My entire fucking life,” he rasps and a tear spills down my eye, and drops on the side of his cheek.
***
Today’s our twenty-sixth day in the city, which means today’s the day I’m going to marry Abel Adams.
Oh, and today’s my birthday too. Who cares? The only thing worth remembering about today is that I’m going to be his, forever and ever, in front of God and men.
Sky calls me to wish me a happy birthday and I tell her about the wedding, and apologize for not calling her sooner. I was terrified to put her under more scrutiny, in case people were watching her.
“They don’t know you’re in New York,” she says. “Everything is fine. I’m fine. They’re not looking for you. You go get married, okay? Focus on your big day.”
I want to ask more but I leave it at that and say my goodbyes. “Okay. I miss you. Talk to you soon.”
So they don’t know. They’re not even looking for me. All this angst of the past days have been for nothing. I’m relieved. Well, I should be relieved but I think it’s not very many little girls’ dream to be married without their parents. Up until a month ago, I thought they would be there when I married Abel. I knew they might not like it, but I had no idea that I wouldn’t even see them on this day.
They are not looking for you.
But it’s okay. I survived the humiliation of being paraded around in a bedsheet by my own mother, I can get married without them. Happily.
I wear my pink dress and hold a bouquet of sunflowers in my hand. Abel wears a white shirt, with sleeves rolled up to expose the veins of his forearms, and black dress pants. Ethan and a bearded guy from their work are our witnesses.
We stand in front of a judge and in a matter of minutes, it’s done, and Abel kisses me in front of everyone, like he said he would long back when we were in that town. His kiss is both desperate and relieved, and when he breaks it and looks down at me, for the first time in weeks I think he’s truly happy. I don’t see currents of desperation running under his skin or flashing in his eyes.
And I don’t have any doubts. Everything is right; I can feel it.