Christopher Leppek - Abattoir

There was a knock at the door. She almost ran to open it.

She gave Cantrell a tight hug as he entered, and saw the look of dread and despair on his face immediately melt away.

When Cantrell saw her—dressed in black slacks and a pink cashmere sweater that exposed a thin band of smooth belly—he felt something he hadn’t felt before. He already knew that he’d gone well beyond just liking her, but this was something else.

They sat together on the couch, silently enjoying each other’s presence as they watched Anna’s pencil make long, sometimes vicious, movements across her tablet. There was something almost hypnotic about the child’s actions. While they first appeared erratic, on closer examination, there seemed to be a definite purpose to each line and scratch.

“What does she do when she runs out of paper?” Cantrell asked.

“I took Sharon’s advice,” Su Ling replied with a smile. “I have reams of tablets for her; she’ll never run out.”

“What do you make of it, Su? What does it mean?”

“I wish I could believe she was trying to communicate with me. I think that’s wishful thinking. Sharon was convinced that part of Anna’s mind was trying to communicate to itself, almost as if she were trying to find a way out of her silence—out of her sadness—through her pencil. I think maybe Sharon might have had something there. All I know, Alex, is that it’s important. I know it is… ”

“How is she taking Sharon’s absence?”

“It’s impossible to say. She doesn’t react to anything, as you know. Her drawing now is the same as it was before. Does she miss Sharon? Maybe somewhere deep inside. I hope so. And I know there’s no question that Anna liked Sharon very much.”

“How could you tell?”

“Mother’s intuition. The same intuition that tells me she likes you very much too.”

Cantrell blushed. “Really?”

“Yes. And I have to tell you, my daughter has very good taste.”

They stared at each other, laughed. They brought their foreheads together, pulling back, smiling. Su Ling reached out and caressed the back of his head, brought his lips to hers. The kiss was deep and long. At last, she pulled away and whispered in his ear.

“I hope you’re hungry.”

He smiled.

Su Ling rose and approached her daughter. Gently, she placed her hand on the girl’s drawing arm. Without looking up, Anna’s movements began to slow, and eventually stopped. The paper and pencil fell soundlessly to the floor. Su Ling’s hand moved to Anna’s and gently raised her. The girl followed her mother to the table and took her accustomed place.

It amazed Cantrell that although Anna was totally uncommunicative, there was an obvious understanding between mother and daughter—a modus operandi that went beyond words.

Dinner was quiet and pleasant. They talked of ordinary things, but their minds were on something else.

Cantrell marveled at the dexterity Anna showed as she ate. She was neat and meticulous, taking tiny portions of food from the small plate. Although she could not communicate a single word, nor even convey a meaningful expression, she conducted herself like any little girl her age.

After dinner, Su Ling led Anna away from the table to the bathroom. There, she brushed her teeth and was then led to bed.

Cantrell cleared the table and joined Su Ling at Anna’s bedside. They both tucked her in, and the girl was asleep almost before they left the room.

They found themselves back on the couch, finishing the last of their wine, looking at each other in the warm glow of the candles that Su Ling had relit.

Despite her best efforts, she found her eyes returning to the photograph on the wall—the one that depicted her, Anna and Quan. It seemed like a century ago, yet it still hurt. Maybe it would always hurt. Even as she kissed Cantrell, this time harder than before, her thoughts were divided.

As if sensing her apprehension, he cupped her face in his hands and let the words flow from his mouth with no hesitation, no analysis, no explanation.

“I love you,” he whispered softly.

She felt her cheeks grow heated, her heart quicken.

She hadn’t heard those words since Quan. Was it a betrayal to hear them now? A form of adultery? Could a woman be unfaithful to her dead husband?

No . She would not cling to the past, no matter how attached she was to it. She would not look at Quan’s picture on the wall… at least not tonight.

She replayed Cantrell’s words in her mind, realizing in an instant that she believed him. And that she owed him the same honesty: that she loved him too.

Not because he was handsome or sexy, or that he was a successful architect; amazingly creative in his art; adept at translating his vision into tangible reality. These were all attractive, but what really drew her to him was the little boy she saw hidden deep inside.

The little boy who was afraid of failure, who dreaded his father’s disapproval, anyone’s disapproval, who needed someone to accept him, to hold him when the doubts rose.

She knew at that moment that she would surrender to Cantrell. She knew that, with his help, she could let go of her past.

He caressed her fine black hair, enjoying the sensation of his fingertips running through its length. He brought her lips once again to his.

He hadn’t planned on saying those three simple words. He’d never said them to anyone before.

Like Su Ling, he believed them.

There had been lovers in his past, or at least women whom he’d called lovers. None of them had lasted for very long. His work always seemed to push them aside, to take precedence over everything.

He couldn’t have predicted any of this. His life was already beyond complicated. But looking into her dark eyes, feeling the softness of her hair on his face, he didn’t have a single doubt. He wanted to fall into this woman; to melt together with her, to realize the strength he knew her love would bring him.

And the strength his love would bring to her. He saw far beyond her exotic good looks, even far beyond the loving and worried mother that she was. He, much like her, saw her past. He saw her as a little girl, very much like Anna, who was afraid, who feared losing her home and her parents, who wanted nothing more than to be secure and to be loved.

He also saw her courage. He saw how that frightened little girl had grown into this strong and persevering woman, this beautifully vulnerable yet courageous woman.

Now Su Ling brought her lips to his ear.

“I love you too.”

She felt his lips tremble and break into a smile.

“Will you make love to me?” she asked, a twinge of doubt still lingering in her voice.

He didn’t answer with words. Instead, in one gentle motion, he swooped her up in his arms and led her into the dark recess of her bedroom.

Their lovemaking began gently.

They removed one another’s clothing piece by piece, bashfully at first, but soon with abandon. They caressed each other for a long time, enjoying the taste of skin, the scent of hair, the yield and resistance of physical pressure.

They teased each other as they grew bolder, and then became fast and fiery, leading to a climax that was as gentle as it was explosive, as spiritual as it was physical.

The lovers lay spent, wrapped in each other’s limbs. As their sweat cooled, they caressed each other, again gently at first, then more fervently, in spite of their fatigue.

They repeated the act of love, only this time, enjoying every moment with the ease of prior experience.

When the time for words returned, it was Su Ling who broke the silence.

“Thank you… ”

“It was my pleasure,” he said, kissing her again.

“ Our pleasure,” she corrected him with a giggle.