Page 90 of The Saint

A girl who was enough to make my mother happy.

When I opened my eyes, Lev was standing between me and the painting, his eyes taking in every last detail.

“You’re disgusting.” I turned away, intent on finding something, anything, that might tell me who that woman at the park was or where Rolly was hiding. A pile of papers sat on the kitchen table, and I stepped that way. But something was eating at me, something I couldn’t put my finger on. I looked back, eyes narrowing on Lev as he stood there, staring at the painting. “What’s wrong with you?”

He glanced my way, though he didn’t turn his face to me. His eyes took a slow path down my body, returning to the canvas as he shook his head. “It’s you.”

“What?” With long strides, I returned to his side. “What are you talking about?”

He didn’t answer. My stomach churned as I forced my gaze to once again look at the naked woman draped over the bridge. The thunderstorm overhead gave me chills. Her hand in the raging river below, calming the waves where her fingers touched, heated my blood. My emotions twisted and turned, and the more I looked at her, the more I could feel every single beat of my heart as it pounded through my body.

Lev stepped forward, lifting a hand. He extended his finger, pointing to a small spot on the woman’s side.

A small, pale spot that stood out from the rest of her darkened skin.

My breath shot from my lungs, and I covered my mouth with my hand as if it could stop it.

That spot.

It was just like the birthmark on my side.

“It’s you, David,” Lev told me, his low voice filling my pounding head. “Don’t you see it? Or are you too busy hating yourself to see how fucking beautiful you are?”

My eyes clenched and I shook my head. “No. No, you’re wrong.” I turned away, went back to the table, intent on finding something more than a slight discoloration that had to be a mistake.

That woman, she couldn’t be me.

It was someone else. Someone Rolly had been with, had touched and loved and maybe been inside of. Someone who meant something to him, who made him feel things. Who set his heart racing the way mine did when I looked at that painting.

I plopped my ass into the chair, and I gripped the sides of my head, holding it as I rested my elbows on the table. Taking in a deep breath, I let it out slowly, then repeated it until my heart rate slowed and my stomach stopped churning.

When I opened my eyes, I peered down at the stack of papers I’d come over to look at. What I saw, though, had my body reacting the same way it did when I looked at the painting.

It was a poem, written in Rolly’s narrow scrawl.

Sometimes I think I could disappear

No one would know

No one would care

I’d been lost there before, wrapped up in you

Dissolved in your essence

It’s nothing new

We’ve been one since the beginning, you in my arms

My heart beating for you

Absorbed by your charms

Before we knew the true meaning of love

Childish dreams like wishes

Whispered to the stars up above