When I was seven, my mom instructed me not to touch the painting my dad had given her as an anniversary gift from Christie’s.
She’d said, “This is one of the great Emil Nolde’s works. It’s priceless.”
My dad, who was home at that time, had hung the painting and he’d reiterated, “Son, I have no idea who Emil is, but listen to your mom.”
She was always into the arts. Paintings, sculptures, you name it, and my dad somehow found a way to gift them to her.
Back then, I was too young to understand so I’d merely shrugged and answered, “Yes Mom and yes Dad.”
When my father died, I’d often catch my mom staring at the vivid yellows and deep reds that were embedded in Nolde’s work. One day, I asked my mom, “What do you see when you look at them, Mom?”
She’d kept her eyes on the storm-scape themed art and replied, “Your father. I see him. In all of Emil’s art. He was private yet he was so full of life.”
“Don’t you feel sad when you think of Dad?” At that time, it had been two years since my dad passed away yet it was the first time I really had the courage to ask her. It wasn’t that I was scared of what she’d say. It was because I was in a way not ready for what she’d feel.
Her somber eyes gazed at the painting again, “I do. I’m sad that he’s not here with us. I’m sad that he couldn’t be here to celebrate your graduation. I’m sad that he’s not here to witness you in the Navy… I’m sad for a lot of reasons.”
I’d reached out my hand to hold her shoulder, “I’m sorry, Mom.”
She had wiped a tear that had formed in her eyes and responded, “But most of the time, I remember him as the man who rocked you to sleep when you had colic. You weren’t always an easy baby, but he took fatherhood in stride. I remember the happy memories that I’d created with him. I remember him like that painting,” pointing to the one in the dining room, my view obstructed by the wall, “and this painting,” her eyes grazed the one a few feet away from us. “I remember when he gave them to me. They were priceless before. But now…they’re irreplaceable. Just like your father – non-expendable. Untouchable.”
Those were my mother’s exact words.
She hadn’t wanted me to touch the paintings then because of their value.
And now, they were even more priceless.
What if I had actually put my fingerprints on them, would their worth be a couple hundred grand less?
My father was now untouchable yet his memories remained so vivid.
The paintings in my mother’s house would remain where they were, from the time my father hung them to the day my mother took her last breath.
They were never to be touched, only to be looked at.
Because, as my parents had tried to explain when I’d attempted to actually touch the one in our living room to my mom’s unending consternation, “The oils in the hands can corrode the art.”
I’d never thought that the day would come when I’d see the wisdom in my mother’s words.
That when an artwork was a masterpiece, you did everything to preserve it.
Put it up on a pedestal and don’t soil it with your hands.
Athena and Denton were the last ones to come out of their class.
Everyone else went poof as soon as they got the clear that the professor wasn’t showing up for the day.
I’d texted her but she hadn’t responded.
I knew she was safe inside the room, but after ten minutes and twenty-five seconds, I had to go in and check for myself.
My mother had screamed when I almost touched her precious paintings.
Mutter tut mir leid.
Mom, I’m sorry.
I now know how you felt.
While Athena’s not a painting, she’s a goddamned masterpiece.
If my buddies could hear me now, they’d want to shoot me in the ball sac just to prove that my nuts still existed.
Someone...
Some motherfucking piece of shit.
Fine, he’s her friend.
Still an asshole piece of shit, was touching her.
Wait –
He was carrying her, waving her lithe body around and it looked like he was celebrating.
Years.
It took years of military training to hone patience and discipline.
And they were the only hindrances, what’s stopping me from tearing his arms away from her and carrying her to my car.
I was rooted to the ground I was standing on, feeling as if I was watching a scene from that sappy ass movie The Notebook that Athena loved so much.
His hands were on her.
Not because she tripped or fell or lost her balance – all valid reasons why his hands would be on her.
No.
His hands, his arms were wrapped around her waist and the expression on his face was akin to a propellant in a mortar bomb.
It was the ultimate trigger, like a soldier gripping the grenade so the striker lever was pulled up against the body of the bomb.
It was one thing to see Denton’s face alight with happiness.
It was another to watch Athena, the woman I didn’t dare soil with my hands, react to his touch.
Unlike mom, I couldn’t scream.
Denton’s green eyes met mine.
His look was a combination of pride and euphoria.
He’d just pulled the pin out of the bomb.
I couldn’t lay claim on her. She wasn’t mine to have.
She was a masterpiece to watch, guard, protect.
But never touch.
Because the minute I touched her, she would corrode.
So, I let the bomb explode inside of me.
The ignition caused the slow-burning hope that she’d resurrected in the past few days to fragment and splinter into pieces.
Pieces that even I couldn’t recognize anymore.
And unlike in the battlefield, my armor was nowhere near ready to counter the attack.
The ride back to my place was quiet.
So quiet that you could hear the engine of my car which according to my car dealer, had excellent acoustic engine cover and combustion efficiency, meaning, it barely made any noise.
Athena’s hands fidgeted on the seat.
She’s looked at me thrice within the last five minutes.
I knew because I had eyes on the side of my face.
“So…” Her left hand was hiding under her jean-clad leg, “Denton asked if I could attend a gala with him.”
As always, traffic never stopped in L.A.
The truck in front of me made a quick left as my foot pressed on the brake.
Ten lights and we’d be home.
“Webb?” Her voice fluid in the midst of the silence.
“Yep,” I replied with a side nod.
“I said Denton asked if I could attend an event with him.”
I heard her the first time. I was hoping that ignoring it would make it go away.
“You going?” I was asking but I already knew. Her hands moving a mile a minute coupled with the feet tapping was quite enough to give her away.
“He’s a good guy. A close friend –”
“You don’t need to explain,” I said, my right foot slamming hard on the brakes, slowly letting them ease up so Athena wouldn’t feel the forced momentum. “You wanna go, go.”
“I –”
“No need.” Motherfucking bag of dicks, why the fuck did these lights take so long to turn green?
Her hand reached for my right arm that was now tightly coiled on the steering wheel, her voice meant to soothe, “Webb…”
“I don’t control you, Athena. I don’t own you. You’re free to do whatever you want with whomever you want to.” I pushed down on the gas and made a quick left, eyeing the two orange cones tipped towards my lane.
Her hand didn’t leave my arm, “Will you stop for a minute?”
I took my eyes off the street for a few seconds and turned my head to the right as I swiped a glance at her.
Her dark hair was lighter, the sun’s reflection making it golden.
Her cheeks slightly flushed from being out in the sun.
The green in her eyes standing out against the brown.
The simplicity of her beauty so raw yet captivating.
The second her pink mouth opened, I looked away.
I had to.
Or my dick was going to start drilling a hole through my jeans.
Attraction is one thing. But chemistry is a whole other animal.
Since the night we met, Athena has had that pull on me. I’d been keeping that tug-of-war of magnetism between her and me at a safe distance.
To keep her safe.
At least, that’s what I told myself every night after I checked on her.
Sometimes the hardest thing was knowing what’s right and actually doing what’s right.
I knew that she liked me. I had years on her, but I wasn’t that old.
But I couldn’t do anything about it as long as she was my detail.
When a charge had an intimate relationship with the person guarding her, one of them relaxes.
It was all part of the attachment theory I’d studied in the service. I didn’t just make that shit up.
The worst thing I could do was be relaxed. To have my guard down.
I always had to be on the lookout. Ready to protect her from any harm.
“I’m going with him as a friend,” she explained. “I like him as a friend and not more.”
Then why the fuck did he have his hands over your waist and what in the bullshitting world did that friend’s face show when he looked at me, as if telling me that he was setting forth his game plan and Athena was actually going along with it?
Of course I didn’t say that out loud.
I wasn’t a high school kid complaining to a girl that I was miffed because another guy was holding her.
My father would come out of his grave and paddle my ass if I’d ever tattled about it, as if I couldn’t hold my own.
Balls.
Where the fuck did you go?
Lost in Bum Fuck Egypt.
Still waiting to be dug up by the mummies inside the pyramids.
I’d been to Egypt once.
“Egypt?” Her voice crawled through the conversation meant for only my head. “What about Egypt?”
“Nothing,” I muttered, I couldn’t even tell anymore if I was thinking to myself or saying it out loud. Mind, go accompany balls in that barren desert.
“Anyways…” I could practically see her eyes rolling and I couldn’t help but smirk. One thing about Athena was her transparency. I’d been with numerous women in my life; they were beautiful creatures. But going on a 3-day mission to an enemy territory would gain more intel than trying to understand women. With Athena, she made it easy. A smile was a smile. A side eye was a side eye. And a frown, a frown.
“I was saying that I’m going with Denton as a friend. He needs a plus one for the evening.” Her hand stayed on my arm even when we were closing in on the entrance of my house.
“Is it okay with you?”
I replied, “It’s your choice. Liam and I will be there. I’m sure you’ll have a great time.”
Her hand pressed on my arm, “I’m asking if it’s okay with you.”
I let off the gas and pulled on the parking brake.
I slowly removed her hand from my arm and said, “It’s getting late. We have an early flight out tomorrow.”
I got out of my car and walked towards the main door.
I could hear her light footsteps trailing behind me.
Then a hand snaked by my left arm.
“If it not’s okay with you, I won’t go with him. I need to know you’re okay with it, Webb.”
“Why?”
“Because if you’re not okay with it, I’m going to text him right now and let him know to find someone else as a date.”
“Now it’s a date?” I hit back. “I thought you’re going with him – as a friend.”
“Well, it’s a friendly date.” Her eyes met my ears instead of my eyes.
So transparent.
“Okay,” I replied, if this was what she wanted then by all means, go right ahead. She wasn’t mine to control. She had her own mind and – why the fuck does the thought of Denton downright annoy me right now?
“Are you sure?” Her eyes locked to mine, the small light yellow bag she was carrying hanging of her shoulder.
“What do you want me to say, Athena?” Patience, to me, was an acquired habit and it was slowly slipping away.
She didn’t say anything for a beat, then her voice held a biting quality to it. “That it’s really okay with you, Webb. That it’s okay for Denton to take me out, as a friend, as a date, to a black tie event where I’ll meet his politician mom. A night where there will be tons of press coverage and photos will be taken of me and him, being close to each other, dancing the night away…while you and Liam stand in the dark, guarding me behind the scenes.”
She released a small gasp as if realizing that all those words just came out of her.
I turned my back to her to open the door and led her inside.
We stood facing one of my mother’s prized paintings by the foyer, and I let my eyes peruse her from the bottom of her light blue rugged Converse to her jeans, the rest of her amazing body then finally to her face.
Her lips were partially opened, “I can’t believe I said that.”
“I do. I heard you.” I stepped closer to her. She was less than a foot away from the wall so I was almost cornering her.
“I was just – ”
I pinned her with a halting gaze.
“I’m okay with him taking you as his friend, as his date for the evening. Like I said before, it’s your choice. I’m here to protect you, any other type of involvement is off the table.”
“But…” Her voice swayed, the uncertainty registered in her beautiful eyes.
“I’m your bodyguard, Athena,” I said, hoping the steel in my resolve didn’t dither. “I can’t be any more.”
“Okay.” Her face bowed down, her expression finding its resolution, and goddamn if it didn’t make me want to tear into something.
My right hand reached out, lifting her supple chin up, and as my fingers inched up to touch her soft lips, I decided that though patience was achieved by practice, honesty was definitely a virtue.
“I’m okay, Athena. I’ll be protecting you from afar, as it is my job. But the minute his hands land on any part of your body, know this – I’ll be reciting every fucking prayer I know so I won’t break his hands and find satisfaction in doing so.”
And when the dam spills, it submerges everything along its path.
“Why do you have to be so beautiful?”
Words left my mouth.
My hands reached behind the back of her head.
And slowly, oh so ever so slowly, I replaced my fingers with my mouth.
She was my detail.
I was her bodyguard.
She was the daughter of the man I owed half of my life to.
I was there to protect her.
Denton might have had her as his friend, date, whatever.
But in this instance, this tiny sliver of space, this moment in time, I froze everything else and savored the minty sweet taste of her mouth.
She was…
Mine.
“Coffee or tea, sir?” The flight attendant asked, as she pushed the metal cart through the aisle.
I whispered, “Black please.”
Her blonde head nodded and she gave me a small smile.
Athena’s head was on my right shoulder. She’d dozed off at exactly fourteen zero five, barely two hours after the plane took off.
Liam was sitting by the window two seats down.
The flight was only two thirds full so we had enough to pick and choose where we sat.
She had plopped her ass on 38B and so here we were.
Her breathing was even and I’d adjusted her head slowly so that when she woke up, she wouldn’t have to deal with a sore neck.
I held the small paper cup of coffee in my left hand, keeping my right hand across Athena’s shoulders, careful not to spill the drink on my jeans.
I could smell the fruity comforting scent of her shampoo even when her hair was covered by a small knitted cap. It was going to be chilly in D.C. so she’d said that she’d packed thicker clothes.
She had no stalkers on this flight. No one was around to trail her.
Either they couldn’t get on a plane without being flagged by the NSA or someone else was taking over their shift in Washington D.C.
The heat of the coffee singed my tongue and I cursed under my breath.
I didn’t want to wake her, she needed the rest.
Last night, after I’d kissed her and hightailed it out of the room, I heard her running in the gym then talking to her friend, Dyan.
We didn’t talk about the kiss before she went to bed a quarter before midnight.
We didn’t talk about it when she ate Cheerios for breakfast, and I sat on the chair across from her, reading Tony’s intel.
We didn’t talk about it when Liam arrived, and I drove us to LAX.
We didn’t talk about it when I carried her bags and we checked in and boarded the plane.
We didn’t talk but…
She’s said hi, hello, I’m fine, I’m excited to see my dad, and thank you to either Liam or me.
Short simple words that carried a lot of leaded weight.
Unlike me, Athena was a woman of words. And if words couldn’t be spoken, she used her hands to gesture.
Today there was none of that.
She was quiescent, somber, and her hands remained at her sides.
It was disconcerting.
Even after we boarded the 737, she merely said, “Thank you” when I placed her luggage in the overhead bin.
She read a book for the first hour and moved a chair over to the unoccupied seat between us when the pilot announced we’d reached 38,000 feet.
We didn’t speak, but I felt that yesterday was the most I’d spoken to her about how I felt towards her.
It was not easy, never been easy for me to divulge my emotions to anybody.
My mom encouraged me to express myself and my dad urged me to suppress my feelings.
I didn’t despise my dad’s inability to voice out his emotions, it was just the nature of the beast.
Being in the military, living the life he led and I followed, I knew that my troops were safest when I relied on facts, without the cloud of emotions. We were already in heightened situations where all of our senses were on high alert and we were deprived of regular conveniences, such as pissing in a toilet or drinking cold water. When you lived the life of a soldier, you knew that orders didn’t mate with feelings. If they did, then all your objectives would be tainted with the need to not let anyone out of your sight so that they would not be exposed to harm’s way.
I continued drinking my coffee, my other hand occupied with lightly touching Athena’s shoulder.
In a few hours, once the plane touched down, I wouldn’t be afforded these stolen moments of being able to freely touch her, being able to smell the amazing scent of her hair this close, or just being with her in these unfiltered moments.
I felt a pang in my chest.
The easiest choice would be to give in to my attraction to her; but this would only bring the most catastrophic of results.
The strategy I’d learned through the years and one that’s kept me and my men safe had always been the one I followed – to employ common sense in the smallest tactics that would bring about the best results in the overall grand scheme.
To keep her alive there’s only one thing I could do.
Denton was the better man for the job.
He didn’t have the baggage that I carried.
He was close to her age.
He’d be able to take her out, wherever she wanted to, go on amazing trips, and date her without any strings attached.
He made the most sense.
So why did that thought make me want to punch a wall and kick a metal door down until my whole body bled?
I didn’t even bother denying why.
The why had always been there, from the night I saw her dancing in her dorm, she captivated me with her understated beauty…
But it was her zest for life, the way she faced the sun everyday as if it was a miracle that never ended –
It was what made that dormant part in my chest,
Move,
Beat,
Come alive.