Creatus

Fiddling with the paper bag, Kristina stared at her lap as though she’d forgotten he was in the room. Finally making eye contact, she moved her mouth toward the sandwich and then stopped as if she’d decided on what she wanted to say. “So, Derrick…” She paused, measuring her words, it seemed, then took a bite, chewed, and washed down the food with a swig of coffee. “Why don’t you start at the beginning? I think I was still drunk the other morning. I don’t remember much. Exactly what are you?”

He let out a burst of laughter. There was the girl he thought he’d known. He’d hoped she was somewhere inside that drug and alcohol-saturated body. “I’m so glad to finally meet you, Kristina, but why don’t we hold off on the deep inquisition for a while. It’s good you don’t remember much. Now we can get to know each other under better circumstances.”

She ripped off another piece of bagel with her slender fingers then stood again, walking over to the wall of windows overlooking the harbor. “Nice place. What do you do for a living?”

Good, he thought. She really didn’t remember. “I’m a doctor.” She turned to face him and the light from outside made its way through the shirt, illuminating every curve beneath the thin white cotton. “Umm… Kristina, you’re standing in direct sunlight.”

She glanced at her choice of clothes and then traipsed toward the sofa, her hands roaming over the soft leather. “Nothing you haven’t seen before if you’re a doctor,” she teased, a lightness in her voice he hadn’t detected earlier.

“True,” he allowed. She definitely had spirit.

Her eyes roamed over the black and white nature prints he’d hung on the wall behind the sofa. “What type of practice?” she asked, making eye contact with him again.

“Family medicine.”

Kristina returned to the sofa, plopping down and then tucking her leg underneath her. Resting her elbow on the armrest, she focused a poignant gaze on him. “This is kind of awkward. You know I’m not really suicidal, right? I hate my life, but I knew you’d come. I didn’t want to die.”

He nodded, nibbling on the inside of his cheek, still a bit perturbed by her stunt that could have killed her. “Did you call Beth?”

“No. I needed a shower, and I wasn’t sure what to say. I didn’t tell her I was going to jump off a bridge. I just told her I’d be happier wherever I was. She, as always, assumed the worst.” She took a sip of coffee and then her gold-flecked eyes peeked up at him under long blond lashes. She was even more beautiful than her mother had been.

“Why don’t you call Beth while I get cleaned up, and then we’ll go out and get some fresh air? I have the week off work, so we can do whatever you want.”

She inhaled a deep breath and then let it out. “Anything I want except leave. Otherwise they’ll kill me, right?”

Chapter Four

Kris stared at the stranger sitting beside her in the front seat of his car, surprised he didn’t feel like a stranger. It felt as though she’d known him her entire life. And in a way, she had. Since he’d saved her from the same fate her mother had succumbed to by the hands of that thief in the alley, Derrick had consumed her. Every night since that day, he’d occupied her dreams. His leading role had turned more seductive since she’d become a woman, though. As a child, she’d thought he was an angel sent from God, an angel dressed in black. But now that she was able to stare into his fathomless dark eyes that seemed to go on forever, she realized he wasn’t an angel, but a man. A man she wanted to get to know better, fully. She wondered for a second if he was real this time or if she’d wake up any minute, realizing she’d taken her fantasies to another level.

Derrick pulled up in front of her apartment and turned to her. “You’re so quiet. What are you thinking about?” he asked, reaching for her hand.

His warm touch sent a surge of pleasure through her body and she smiled softly at the feel of his hand around hers and his comment. “I’m not quiet. Actually, my friends, teachers, and employers have always called me a blabbermouth. Said I just spouted off whatever I wanted without thinking.” She curled her hand around his, loving the intimacy she already felt, even though he was hiding something from her. She’d never experienced familiarity with any man, even if they’d dated a few weeks, which was about the extent of her relationships. But just in a few hours—well, days but she’d been unconscious most of the time—she believed she could trust Derrick. “I was thinking about you. Wondering if you’re really here.”

He returned her smile, but then frowned. “That’s what you were thinking? If I’m real again? How can I prove I’m real?”

This time an even broader smile lifted her cheeks. “I’m sure I’ll think of something. But first off, I guess I should get into my own clothes. Not that I don’t feel all warm and snuggly in the sweatshirt you insisted I wear, but what will your family say if they see me wearing your clothes?” She opened the door and hopped out, noticing her Grand-Am was sitting in its normal parking spot. She spun toward Derrick and caught him with his mouth open as if he was ready to speak, but she interrupted him. “How did—did you bring my car here?”

“I had my brother...” He shook his head, throwing his hands up. “What do you mean, ‘meet my family’? How do you know about my family?”

“You said something the other day I remembered. About choosing.” She glanced up and down the road as she walked around the front of his Navigator. “Come on up. I suppose you have my keys.”

He pulled her key ring out of his pocket and handed it to her, a look of concern on his face. But then he followed her up the three flights of stairs to her apartment without speaking.

Kris opened the door and stepped inside. Her home looked exactly as she’d left it, but it felt different, as if there was a subtle alteration she couldn’t place. She wondered if Derrick or his brother had searched it. Not that they had any reason, but still, it felt strange standing in her doorway, as if someone had been here.

It wasn’t as though she had anything to hide, and even if she did, she certainly didn’t have any place to hide it. Her home consisted of three small rooms, shaped in an almost perfect rectangle. The front door opened into the living area, no foyer; and off to the left, sat a galley kitchen with its tiny dinette. Her bedroom was directly on the other side of the living room. Again, no hallway, just one door that led to her bedroom. She had an end unit, though; so all three rooms had windows overlooking the alley, and then the bedroom had a second window overlooking the street.

The wood floors and walls were whitewashed white. She loved the solid alabaster color; it felt clean and fresh. The only color she’d added to her simple decor was green by the way of plants. She enjoyed the tropical feel of her apartment with its exotic foliage, sheer curtains, and sparse furnishings and wall decorations. Everything she owned, other than the plants, was white, tan, or black, as she’d seen in home magazines. She’d mimicked Caribbean cottages with their simplicity and inexpensive furniture. She’d made sure the warmth she couldn’t find in Somerville was always present in her home.

Derrick looked around appreciatively; though, her place was nothing like his high-rise apartment with its dark walnut floors, chrome appliances, and leather furniture. In fact, if you compared their homes to their personalities, she realized, they’d have nothing in common. She hoped that wasn’t the case.

Kris gestured to her tiny couch with its white jacquard slipcover she’d found on eBay. “Make yourself comfortable, Derrick. I’ll only be a minute.”

He sat as directed, looking completely out of place. Like Adonis himself in a peasant’s home, she thought. She skipped off to her bedroom, her heart pounding. Kris went directly to her full-length wicker-framed mirror, a bargain she’d found at a thrift shop. She twirled once as she inspected her body, marveling at the way her skin glowed and her hair appeared glossy, healthy. Amazing what a couple of days of no alcohol or drugs could do. But there was more; she looked good mentally too, happy even, an unusual occurrence. She tugged Derrick’s sweatshirt up around her face and inhaled. The scent took her back to when she was a child, curling up next to her mother on the loveseat as they’d watched a Disney movie. Derrick used the same fabric softener her mother had used. Somehow, envisioning him using fabric softener made her laugh.

Deciding to keep his sweatshirt on a few more minutes, she removed her vintage shredded skirt from the other night. When Derrick had left his bedroom this morning, she’d yanked off the blankets to reveal that she was