Carnem Levare (3 page)

Several times, while preying on women of
light-colored hair and delicate figures, Stefano awaited their
break from company or even a moment of selfish toil. For surely,
his Anastasia would sense his presence and steal away from all that
was insignificant. His true love would know that he would find her
and disregard this irrelevant celebration.

Unlike many, Carnem Levare was his least favorite of
events. He had little desire to fraternize with everyone, in the
middle of the square, in full disguise. He did not even care to be
amongst his countrymen in the rich gatherings at the theater or
being entrapped, as others, with song.

The only reason he adorned his current selection was
to reach and connect with his one truest. But this search was
proving to be fruitless. Having grabbed several elbows, only to
inhale an incompatible scent, he grew even more disgusted with the
revelries. He confronted every female that was without a mate in
hopes of finding Anastasia. All that remained were the coupled
ones.

At the thought of Anastasia’s infidelity with
another man, he raged, though he tried to remain calm. He kept
bumping into other patrons, rudely refusing to apologize for his
own anger. The men felt the brunt of his force, while the women
would merely experience a brush. He only needed to lean in several
inches to sample their essence, though time and again Anastasia’s
was not there.

Suddenly Stefano’s pitch-black jacket felt heavier
while moisture poured down from his forehead. It almost seemed as
if he became irritated anywhere the dark clothing connected with
bare skin. This added to his frustrations; made him knock harder
against the men, lean closer into the women.

People began whispering, taking a moment from their
enjoyment to draw attention to this apparent madman. He knew they
were looking, but he no longer cared. It wasn’t until Stefano
finally spotted Anastasia’s familiar shoes, the ones she’d worn the
day he first connected with her soul, that he then settled
down.

Stefano’s entire behavior reduced from aggression to
humility. He even found himself smiling, first on the inside, then
on the out. Taking wide strides, he headed in the direction of his
temptress. She was advancing away, though raising her dress and
taking account to look back every now and again. Anastasia appeared
to be encouraging his progression. To many it would not be obvious
that her beckoning was meant for this madman—to many it was clear
he was witless. Yet there were so many drunkards in attendance that
Stefano’s actions could easily be discounted.

Whipping in and around the crowded pavements,
Anastasia paused at the entrance to a dark alleyway. She took a
moment to make eye contact with her stalker and nod, before
advancing up the path. Stefano took this as the perfect opportunity
to increase his pace.

When he arrived at the building’s brick edging, he
didn’t bother to look about or take account of observers. The
darkness and stench of tainted moisture could never hold him
back.

He reached Anastasia after only five easy steps, and
wrapped his hands around her waist, crushing her fuchsia gown. He
even senselessly thrust her against the wall.

“
You never came yesterday,” he
began, barely able to get the words out. His lips crushed against
hers. She allowed him to taste and inhale before pulling
away.

“
I promised to always come back to
you, Stefano.” Her words were delicate, begging forgiveness. “I
can’t stay long with you, my love.”

“
Are you here alone?” Stefano
didn’t want her to always come back to him. He wanted her to remain
with him forever. He could not eat. He could barely live. And would
not even consider a life outside of Anastasia.

“
No,” was all that she could offer.
She left him needing to hear more. He didn’t remove his hands that
now grazed against her neck.

“
I once overheard you planning life
with another man.” His voice dipped. Trembling fingers raced along
the edges of her white mask. “I can’t fathom a life without you. I
can’t imagine you in the arms of anyone else.” He held onto the
back of her head. The elastic string began pulling, strands of her
hair blew about.

“
But we can’t openly marry.”
Anastasia tried to move from his grip but he was too tightly
connected.

“
I would rather live alone than
with another woman.” He pressed into her lips and hips, forcing
both closed extremities apart. His tongue plummeted through her
apparent rejection. And while kissing her with little forgiveness,
he continually muttered, “Mine . . . mine . . . mine.”

Pretty soon Anastasia was struggling, flailing and
pleading.

“
No, no, no, no, no . . .” he
hushed her, afraid that she was reacting unnecessarily. He pressed
closer, not wanting her to run away from him.

“
You’re frightening me, Stefano.”
Although he couldn’t see her eyes, the quiver of her words incited
fear. “Let me go . . . please?”

“
I could never hurt you, Anastasia.
Please, stay longer.” He wasn’t asking permission. His knees were
secure against the skirt of her fabric, pinning this prize against
the cold brick structure. He stooped low enough to capture and
tease at the upper portions of her breasts. He kissed along and
around her costume. He was aroused, maddened by this
enjoyment.

“
Anastasia!” a male voice traveled
in the distance. The call drew nearer, drifted further, and grew
closer once more.

“
I must go,” she pleaded
again.

Stefano exhaled.

“
Who is that man?” he asked under
his breath.

“
Stefano, if they find me with you,
there will be hell.”

“
Who is he?” he commanded in a
higher tone, his voice cracking midway through.

“
I don’t want to hurt—”

“
Who is he?” Rather than increase
his inquisition, Stefano lowered his sounds. There was a certain
threat that accompanied his question, however. He stood straight
and began to pace. Stopping off and on, he pounded against the
opposing hedge.

“
My betrothed,” Anastasia finally
acknowledged.

Stefano stepped away, unable to go much further. His
back pressed against stone. The mask that had remained intact, he
immediately removed and cast down. He momentarily ceased to exist,
save for the ongoing call of his dear Anastasia and the continuous
pounding of his heart.

“
Stefano . . .” Anastasia reached
for his face, her head turned towards the bright opening of their
resting place. He brushed her away. His head tossed, denying her,
refusing company any longer.

“
Go!” he shouted. Her body trembled
causing the gown to shake. A gasp pierced the air. But as she
turned to walk away, Stefano asked with compassion, “Why did you
come to my bed?”

Without looking back, she paused. Her head dipped,
hands spread outward. “You were my first, Stefano. I’ve loved you
the longest.”

“
But you are promised to another
man now.” He moved toward her, placing his chest against the
temptress’s upper back. “You gave me your body over and again. What
kind of a woman have you become?”

Only then she turned to face Stefano. Looking down,
barely able to decipher her emotions, his fingers crushed into her
upper arms.

“
Stefano, I will continue to come
to your bed. I must marry Antonio, though I will always belong to
you.”

“
Do you visit his bed as well?”
Stefano asked.

His question introduced twenty seconds of silent
conversation. Her hands cradled his face. She pressed upwards,
forcing him downwards. Without making it easy, Stefano’s tight lips
were brought against hers. Her tongue outlined his mouth.

“
What must I do? Move on?” His
questions caused a tickling between them.

“
Never move on,” she quickly
demanded.

“
That’s what you’re doing,
Anastasia.”

“
Mama and Papi are forcing me to
move on.”

Stefano’s lips curved. He wanted to share what
little he knew of his father and her mother’s infidelity, because
she was clearly unaware. “What have they told you?”

“
Papi has given no indication,” she
replied softly. “Do you know why?”

“
And you do not fight for
love?”

“
What choice do I have? They have
made me—”

“
Are they making you visit his bed
likewise?”

She began backing away. Stifled noises traveled from
her lips. Her head tossed.

“
Then come away with me. Let us
begin life together, the way it was meant to be from
birth.”

Her hand rested at the exposed area above her
bosoms. “My family would disown me.”

“
Anastasia, this is your life . . .
our lives. Did the promises you made mean nothing?”

He caressed her fingers, delicately propositioning
her urges. For surely, Stefano believed, Anastasia only needed a
reminder of how special he had always been. His action accomplished
what he planned. Her fingers reciprocated. Their palms aligned,
hands clasped. First the left, then the right. Facing one another,
they freely exchanged breath. Stefano was content in just remaining
in the dimly lit alleyway, permanently lost in the fixture of his
forever love. He didn’t need anyone or anything beyond the exit,
all that mattered to his existence was the woman in front of him.
Then, in a single regrettable moment, reality corrupted his
plans.

“
Anastasia!” The call was closer
than before . . . much closer. First there was a male voice, the
same as before. Stefano growled at the reminder. Next a woman
repeated the escapee’s name. Stefano recognized it as Anastasia’s
mother’s.

When his love attempted to flee, he refused to let
go. Anastasia pulled against his will, fiercely trying to break the
hold he had so determinedly set. The more she struggled, the
greater the pain of rejection. When she finally settled, his grip
loosened.

“
Please, Stefano,” she
begged.

“
You are going to him?”

“
My mother awaits me
too.”

“
It is all for him.
You—”

“
I promise to return to
you.”

“
But you’ll leave
again.”

“
Stefano? How can I show that I
love you?”

“
Let us leave.” At his words,
Stefano released her hands. He stood back, waiting silently for an
affirmation.

“
Leave our home? Leave our
families?”

“
Yes!”

“
I need time to think.”

“
Can you meet me
tomorrow?”

“
I can’t be expected to make a
life-changing decision now, Stefano.” Her hands spread across her
forehead. “Why can’t we just be patient? Why not plan?”

“
While we wait and plan, you will
be given to another man. My life will no longer be worth
living.”

Anastasia softened. She relaxed her pull, allowing
her body to carelessly drift against his. And so they stood,
transported to another location, perhaps the mainland. Where others
did not hold control over their futures.

Stefano felt a tingly sensation as her hair brushed
against his face. Each time he inhaled he savored her sweetness.
Her thin frame nestled against his chest. The heaving, as breath
flowed in and out of her body, reassured him that their love would
live on. It reminded him that life held promise and purpose.

Anastasia promised to meet Stefano a week from that
day. They planned an excursion away from this world. For Stefano,
he considered it as more than an interlude.

*****

For the following week, the bewitched lover revived.
Stefano praised everyone and everything. He openly adored his
mother as she pranced around, her wide hips swaying like drapes
blowing in the wind. He remarked on her beauty, although he thought
her plain. His brother was in the process of taking on a wife.
Stefano studied the couple. His sister, who was also spoken for,
was spoiled like never before. In them he saw hope, a future quite
similar to what he planned for himself. And as he organized to
leave for his fated get away, he clenched to his household.

“
I love you, Mama . . . Papi.”
Stefano found it difficult to maintain eye contact.

“
Will you come with us to the
theater?” His mother looped her arm around him, proudly swaying
alongside her youngest son.

“
I will meet you there. The night
is splendid, I’d rather enjoy walking.”

They parted ways. He was left home, by his lonesome.
A leather-bound brown travel satchel awaited him. It contained very
little, perhaps about two days’ worth of attire. He hadn’t planned
beyond that. Didn’t believe he needed to. The only definite thing
Stefano believed he needed was his perfect Anastasia.

*****

Stefano slipped away from home, the luggage in tow.
The pavements were filled with many people. With everyone caught up
in the madness of carnival, Stefano was able to blend in. He wore
an elaborate gold and black costume, complete with shiny bauta
mask. He initially carried a tricorno hat to match, until it became
too complicated to manage without damaging. His golden mask was
secure, reinforced about his ponytail.

The closer he drew to the meeting point, the quicker
his pace. As their dock came into view, a large streetlamp shone
down, drawing attention to how remarkably beautiful Anastasia
was.