And there’s even something missing – like a shadow that isn’t there anymore.
Oh yes, I know what it is.
There’s no paparazzi!
“At least there are no photographers,” I manage to mumble.
“That’s why I like it here. The mountain hike is too much for them.”
We are at the three quarter mark when Alex holds up his hand. He indicates a little trek – choked with overgrown trees and rocky boulders – that splinters off the main path.
“Let’s go down this way. I want to show you something.”
I’m glad for the level ground, and I manage to catch my breath as I follow him down the curving little trek. The ground here is pebbled and precarious, and I have to watch where I put my feet. Alex lends me a hand now and again, and I take it, glad for his warmth and comfort.
A pair of startled eyes greets me around some shrubbery. I stop. To my delight, a mountain goat bounds away.
“There are plenty of them here,” Alex says. “Use to be a lot more – whole families of them. But their population dwindled with progress, as with everything else wild and free.”
We round a rocky bend and I stop in amazement. A cave mouth yawns at us, tucked snugly into the mountain like a chamber of secrets.
Alex grins. “When I was little, this used to be my hidey hole. Come on. I want to show you what’s inside.”
“You could climb this high when you were a little boy?”
“I climbed everywhere. I was a real monkey. Still am.”
We enter the cave. The temperature dips considerably and I draw my lined jacket closer around my neck. There’s an unusual stone table of sorts in the middle of the cave, which stretches back about twenty feet.
We shrug off our backpacks. Alex fumbles for his torch while I bring out my flask. There’s Gatorade inside and I take a long cool drink, the liquid spilling from the sides of my mouth in my haste to consume it.
“Liz, come over here and look at this.”
He shines upon a spot in the far wall. I wipe my mouth and scramble to my feet to join him. I feel like an intrepid explorer. There are cave markings on the wall – etched by hands far, far older than today’s mountain climbers. An etching of a stick man with frog legs squats before us – faceless but timeless.
“Oh wow,” I say.
“This cave has been studied by archeologists. The frog man is probably thousands of years old, drawn during Neanderthal times.” His face lights up as he gazes upon it, as he has gazed upon it many time throughout his formative years.
I study his profile. In the light of the torch, the outlines of his features are clean and well-delineated. He resembles a beautiful fresco on a cathedral wall, painted by Renaissance masters.
My heart aches for his beauty, for the love between us and the turmoil around us.
He turns to me.
“You’ve been quiet lately.”
“No, I haven’t.” I try to laugh it off.
“Yes, you have. I notice these things about you, even if you think I haven’t. What did my father say to you?”
Oh scoot.
Alex adopts a scolding tone. “Oh come on, Liz. We’re supposed to share these things.”
Reluctantly, I tell him.
He sighs when I’ve finished.
“I’ve never wanted to hurt you,” he says, “and so I never really told you about my life.”
You mean there’s something in what your father and Claire says?
My heart clenches. I’m so afraid of hearing something I can’t bear to hear. I’m in an extremely fragile state these past few days.
I brace myself.
“Tatiana and I were informally betrothed since we were twelve.”
He puts his hand on my back and firmly shepherds me away from the frogman and into the light falling across the mouth of the cave.
“When I was twelve, I didn’t know much about betrothals and stuff, so I thought it was some sort of game. Tatiana used to stay in the palace for months during the school holidays. My father used to call her his ‘ward’. Very antiquated, I know.” He rolls his eyes.
I wait, my fists bunching behind me so that he cannot see how agitated I am.
“When we both sixteen, she seduced me.”
The word ‘seduce’ is like a splinter of pain in my chest. OK, I know Alex was far from a virgin when he first met me. I’d be a fool if I thought he didn’t have a past. But it still is a very hard thing to hear.
I was right.
I’m not emotionally prepared to be a high profile girlfriend of an international (former) playboy.
“We both dated for about two years till I was eighteen and I went off to college. I met other people and she probably did too. Nothing was really serious for me.” He turns to regard me out of his serious blue-green eyes. “Until now.”
My nerves are on tenterhooks.
I whisper, “Your father said you’ve loved a lot of women, and they never lasted.”
He barks a short laugh.
“I’ve had sex with a lot of women. It’s the truth. But love … ” He shakes his head. “When we are young, what do we know?”
We are still young now, I think. But I keep silent.
He lifts my chin up to face him. “Don’t think too much about what other people say, Liz. Our love is between us – you and me. It’s not dictated by my father, my mother or the public. Or even by Tatiana.”
There’s heat gathering behind my eyes. Tears that are threatening to form and spill to the front of my orbs.
Alex leans over and kisses my lips. I mold myself into that kiss, wanting so much to believe that we have a future and that not everything is what other people make it out to be. His lips are purposeful and commanding and nuanced, and I let the world melt away as I fall into that kiss.
His mouth opens and his tongue flickers out insistently. I let my lips part as well, and soon our tongues merge.
We kiss and kiss, parting only momentarily for air. His kisses grow more urgent, and his hands snake down my back to cup my bu**ocks. I’m wearing jeans and a sweater under my coat. Is it me, or has the temperature risen in here?
Oh Alex, Alex. Please don’t hurt me. I’ve given you my body, my soul, my all.
Please …
His lips trail from my mouth to my neck, and he begins to kiss me wetly upon my throat. I tip my head back and let him savor the contours of my throat and the sweet spot where my clavicles meet. He tugs at my open coat, pulling my shoulders and arms out of its sleeves. Then he yanks at my T-shirt. I let him roll it off my torso and my head. I’m not wearing anything underneath and my br**sts spring free in the hazy morning light.