It was a hot night. Nothing extraordinary, but Lisa was drowning in the sweat of an early morning migraine. It was rare for her to wake from a deep sleep with a throbbing headache, but due to her latest attempts to abstain from caffeine, deprivation was taking a painful toll. She groaned and rolled over, feeling dizzy from the minimal effort.
She looked at her clock through a mane of tousled hair and closed her eyes again. Two twenty-five. Was it possible that she had collapsed in bed only three hours ago? Lisa missed the days of early bedtimes and early wake-up calls, the nights where she could sleep for only seven hours yet feel totally rested. Nightmares now plagued her formerly unblemished slumber and she lost forty-five minutes to every hour that she slept.
She was awake now, too conscious to even want to fall back to sleep. She wasn't tired, exactly. The headache made her want to rest but had she been painless she probably would be out of bed already, brewing coffee and checking the morning headlines.
Headlines, she hoped, that would for once not contain her name. Lisa was absolutely sick and tired of dominating the newspapers. Was she really that special? She wasn't a tabloid queen like many wealthy Miami residents, she had no criminal record, really, her only brush with crime had not been that newsworthy.
Well, she reminded herself, your only brush with crime recently. But you've put that behind yourself, haven't you? And you should be doing the same with your recent little adventure.
Lisa sat up and adjusted her pillows as waves of nausea overcame her. She wasn't sure if it was the illness or the thoughts that caused them. She almost had to laugh.
The incident on the flight from Dallas had been surreal, but not surreal in the way of her college graduation or her mother's second wedding. It was surreal in that she felt out of her body the entire time, which was lucky in that she probably wouldn't have acted as bravely if she'd felt like the same droll Lisa Reisert.
Sometimes she really did hate herself. She wasn't special at all, regardless of what her doting father and the press proclaimed. She had an average house, an average job, average looks, an average car, an average wardrobe. She had very few friends, and the close ones she could count on one hand. She had no boyfriend but this she did not regret: men did not fit into her life at all and they probably wouldn't ever.
She needed to go for a walk, she decided. She stumbled out of bed and reached for a bottle of aspirin on her bedside table, shaking three into her palm. A lot, she recognized, but high doses were the only medicines in which she had ever dealt in.
Lisa pulled on a pair of flip-flops and stepped out of the house, tucking her keys into her pocket. She left the lights on in the kitchen, knowing she'd need them when she returned.
She had developed a fear of the dark in the months since the red-eye flight. She'd no idea why, she'd never had those sorts of silly phobias before. But now, whenever she entered her pitch-black house when returning from work she always felt her skin crawl with the fear that something, or someone, actually, was waiting in some crevice of the house.
She walked around her house a few times, her bare knees lightly brushing against the soft skin of her African violets. Lisa had always loved the simplicity of plants, their innocence. They just existed, completely pure in their natural state. She had found gardening therapeutic since her recent traumas.
Lisa sat in the moist soil near her bedroom window, not caring that the back of her thighs and pajama shorts were becoming saturated with dew-drenched dirt. She closed her aching eyes and leaned back against the house, taking a deep breath of the warm air.
She wanted to forget, really. Forget who she was, forget her hatred towards everybody and herself, forget what had happened to her. She questioned the way God seemed to work in her life. How was it possible to be so unhappy all at once?
Lisa didn't realize until a good hour later that her reflections had put her to sleep. She sat up, the throbbing in her head reduced to a dull pulse. She was officially exhausted now, and walked back inside, eager to return to her comfortable bed. Her shoulders ached where she'd been lying in the mud.
When she returned to her bedroom, she sat on the edge of her mattress and reached for more aspirin. The bottle had disappeared, and Lisa swore, looking to the floor. She had a cat that rarely entered her bedroom, but the door was open so clearly the obnoxious thing had come in and knocked the bottle from the shelf. She fell to her hands and knees and checked beneath her bed.
Lisa heard a rattling in the corner and jerked around.
"You really ought to limit yourself to one or two of these things, Leese," a raspy voice preached. "Does quite a number on your esophagus."
She jumped up and swallowed hard. "No. No."
This isn't real, Lisa. You fell asleep outside and you're still dreaming. Jackson Rippner is far away. He has no real interest in you.
"Out," she managed. "Get out of my house."
He shrugged. "Em, no. I'm sick of driving all over. You can feel free to leave if you want, though."
"What do you want?"
She wasn't dreaming. He stepped closer, and she backed as far as she could, her knees hitting the edge of her bed.
"No, Leese," Jackson replied. She studied him. He hadn't changed. He was dressed in khakis and a blue shirt, and the scar on his neck was visible behind a turned-down collar. She grimaced. "What do you want? I was watching you in your cute little garden, you know."
"How long have you been here?"
"Long enough. Long enough to know that you murmur my name in your sleep almost obsessively."
"It's not an obsession of lust, Jackson," Lisa whispered. "It's an obsession of trauma."
"Doesn't hurt my feelings any, Leese," he snorted. "I know you're lying. Check your pulse right now. I bet it's beating faster."
"I'll kill you."
"I won't stand in your way."
"You're a fucking lunatic."
"Let your hatred grow, baby, it's an aphrodisiac."
She glared at him and discreetly began feeling around behind her in the dark. "What is that supposed to mean, you sick asshole? Obviously I have no interest in you whatsoever."
"You can lie. I've seen everything in these past few weeks. Your eyes are different, Lisa, than they were before the flight. You've changed quite a lot. You hate yourself so much because you know that it's sick for you to want me."
"I hated myself long before you came around, Jack." Lisa hurled her boxy, cordless alarm clock at him and he dodged it. It smashed against the wall, batteries flying in every direction. He growled and lunged for her.
She ducked to the floor and he grabbed her knees. They fell together and as she attempted to squirm away he kneed her in the stomach and pinned her arms to the floor. She groaned.
"Get the hell away from me," she managed, abdomen aching. "Get out of my house."
"Want to hear a story, Lisa?" he snarled, his eyes boring into hers. "It's about this girl I once knew. She fucked up my life, everything I had. She lost me all my money, all my power, my dignity. She ripped away my balls and exposed me as a flaw. If that wasn't enough she had to be beautiful and worthy of a good fuck and she made me want to tear my hair out. So once I trashed the life I once had because I had nothing left to return to, I dedicated myself to a new profession. It was all about a big return.
"Yes, my entrance would be fucking grand, I tell you. I'd enter her place and leave her breathless, her heart would be beating just like yours is now. I would take her so many times that she would be in a blissful agony."
"And she'll scream," he leaned in yet closer, his breath unbearably hot and horrible on Lisa's face. "And she'll shout."
His voice dropped to a whisper.
"Oh….and she'll pray. And believe it or not, she had a name."
"You don't need to continue," Lisa murmured. "Just kill me, Jackson. Why can't you see that I don't care enough to fight you?"
"Why can't you see that this is about more than killing you?"
"Kill me," she demanded in a subdued groan. "I won't hold you back."
Jackson reached for her hand and she did not struggle. She lay as limp as a doll in his grasp as he took her fingers and delicately draped them over her chest. He followed them down her collarbone to her heart and then lower. She looked at him and he stared back into her eyes with a concrete gaze.
"Hold me back, Lisa."
"I can't."
He kissed her and she couldn't stop thinking about the last time she kissed a man. Never. She'd never willingly kissed because she'd never been in love. Several short-lived high school boyfriends. A rapist in a parking lot. And now a man who should have killed her by now, a man she should have killed a long time ago. A man who was stealing her breath from her mouth before she could even breathe it.
Jackson's fingers raked through her hair, his nails grazing every end, stroking every fiber of her scalp. She made a noise in his mouth, one of complacency or denial, she wasn't sure. His mouth felt moist but not slobbery, his breath warm and comforting on her face.
She broke away.
"Do you see what I want?" she asked, searching his expression for a clue. "I want to die, Jackson, because I can't hate myself when I keep wanting more from you. It's like I'm unfulfilled or something."
"Fall in love with me tonight, Lisa," Jackson demanded of her. "Just for tonight. Have passion for me, let your anger rise and we'll fly away together before tomorrow. In the morning we'll fall and burn in our little passion and then I'll leave and it will be over. No one will recall I was here, you'll never recall that I loved you for one night."
"Is that what you want?"
"A one night stand."
"Yes," she replied, breathless, not sure what she had in mind. She feared his answer.
"No. I want this to be the last time I abandon you. I want this to be the last time I'll forget you."
"You could forget me easily," Lisa muttered. "I wasn't the one who entered your life with the only goal being to fuck it up."
"I wish I could, Leese. I wish I could forget you that easily."
"If I love you," she hesitated, the words foreign. He watched her with interest. "If I love you, it would last for more than tonight. It would destroy me."
"It will destroy me, too. We'll go down with our ship."
She nodded and kissed him, his lips rubbery beneath hers. Her willpower ended there and he took her away with him. His tongue traced a 'J' on her neck and down her collarbone and he gently, not hungrily, pulled at the hem of her t-shirt. Jackson lifted the material over her shoulders and nipped at her breasts, his tongue making flicking patterns over the nipples. Her stomach rose into his and she kissed him again.
They explored each other, which each second discovering new terrain and claiming it for themselves and for each other. He slid his hand beneath her waistband and tugged at the band of her panties, having little regard for the expensive fabric. She did likewise, partially in revenge, tearing at his nice shirt and the line of hair on his chest. He groaned into her mouth and bit her tongue, his way of telling her to shut up and be his.
Lisa retaliated by yanking down his zipper and then his pants, his boxers and her pajama shorts the only barriers between them. He waited for her permission before removing hers, and was too impatient to delay the removal of her underwear as well. Her chest rose and fell in nervous observation of her lover.
Jackson kissed her ear, nuzzling her shoulder. She felt beautiful and timid. "I do love you. Marry me, Lisa."
"I can't marry you."
"Why?"
"I will only love you for now."
"Then kiss me."
She obliged and their lips met again. Her mind was empty as her heart rate quickened. She wanted all of him touching her and she clung to his emaciated form. His hipbones dug into her own and she winced under his fierce kiss. She was overwhelmed by the scent of him, by his presence, by the whole experience.
Her hands performed the deed and in a split second he was naked. She closed her eyes. She didn't want to see his anatomy, she wanted the experience to be perfect and she didn't want her memory to be solely of an ugly organ.
"Open your eyes, Leese."
"No."
Jackson pressed his fingers over the lids. "Now."
She obeyed and looked down, trying not to squint. "What?"
He took her hand in his and pressed it over himself, rubbing. She was surprised at the silkiness of the skin, at the eagerness that her entire body felt towards him. She resumed the motion of his hand as his left and found a home on her abdomen.
It traced letters on her stomach, following the fair lines of hair to lower areas. She cried out as his touch arrived inside of her, but her hand did not waver from him. They moved in rhythm to each other, in perfect sync to a song where the only music was the wave of heat that rolled over them.
Jackson's hand eventually left her and he kissed her cheek. "Now, Lisa."
She nodded and he slowly but confidently pushed inside of her. Tears sprang to her eyes at the initial pain, but she smiled at the subsequent reward. They developed a new pace set mainly by Jackson and held each other as they rocked back and forth. The mattress creaked beneath their weight.
They lasted for a long time, expressing impatience every now and then with love bites all over. Lisa squeezed Jackson's bare back, her nails clawing his flawless skin.
Afterwards, they lay still, his fingers entwined in hers as they rested on the floor. After a moment, he flopped onto his stomach and stared out the windows.
"Look to the stars, Leese," he muttered.
She turned and looked up at the inky sky. "There aren't any."
"I know. But you can hope."
"For us, or the stars?"
"Both," he answered, stroking her cheek. "Let hope burn in your eyes that we can love for more than tonight."
"We can love Jackson."
"We will love," he determined. "We'll love, and we'll hope."
Lisa sat up. "Would you like some wine?"
He retreated to the kitchen and returned a moment later with two glasses, each half-full of a blood-red liquid. He handed one to her by the stem and she gulped thirstily at it.
Still naked, Jackson stumbled to the pants he had abandoned on Lisa's bed. Lisa smiled at the moonlight that was reflected from his bare, milky ass.
He reached into his pants pocket and pulled out two small capsules.
"What are those?"
He grinned at her. "Our love will last forever."
She understood and took one, holding his hand as she swallowed it with a sip of wine. He downed the rest of his and she set hers aside so that they could lie together on the floor.
"We're wonderful, Lisa," he whispered to her as they drew closer to each other. "Like Romeo and Juliet."
"I love you."
"Me too."
The sun was rising as they drifted to sleep, and Joe Reisert had dark circles beneath his eyes when he found his naked daughter and her lover ten hours later. They were curled together in unison, two wineglasses toppled on the floor, clothes scattered about the room, a cyanide bottle under the bed and a shiny diamond ring on his daughter's finger, engraved in curlicue writing, "And all to no avail."