The Night My Stepmother Let Her Walls Fall

The first week in Adriana’s house was the longest of my life. I had moved in there just seven days earlier, with two suitcases and the constant feeling that I was invading ground that didn’t belong to me. She greeted me with a razor-sharp courtesy, that crystal politeness that serves to keep people at a distance without raising your voice.

That night, however, something had broken between us. We had spent the afternoon with the girls, and when we got back we each poured ourselves a drink in the living room, both of us in pajamas, laughing at the day’s nonsense. For the first time she wasn’t looking at me like an intruder.

—I’ll admit you’ve done well this week —she said, turning her glass between her fingers—. But don’t think you’re earning any special treatment.

Her lips curved into a smile that tried to put up a wall her eyes had already let fall. It was as if she wanted to convince herself, more than me, of what she was saying.

—Adriana, you’re always so tough on the outside —I replied, throwing my arms wide with exaggerated irony—. But I know you’re dying for a hug on the inside. Right?

She stood there, mouth open, paralyzed by the offer. The woman who insisted on keeping her distance suddenly didn’t know what to do. Her eyes widened a little more, reflecting a mix of confusion and a spark of something that looked a lot like vulnerability.

—I don’t… —her voice was barely a whisper.

—Come on, I’m not holding a gun to your head. Just a hug. —I leaned toward her, arms still open—. It’ll be our second secret.

She flushed deeply and smiled. The mention of the “second secret” amused her and made her shiver at the same time. A blink later, she gave in. She came closer slowly, as if she wanted to take back every step.

—All right, but just one. Don’t get too excited, okay?

She stopped right in front of me, hesitant, waiting for me to make the final move. Her body was still tense, ready to flee. But when my hands brushed her waist, the gentle contact made her let go. Her shoulders relaxed and she surrendered to the embrace.

I wrapped my arms around her firmly, without squeezing too hard, afraid her small body might crack between my arms. I caught the single drop of perfume she had put on before coming down; just one, because any more would have been too obvious. I imagined what she must have told herself in front of the mirror.

For her, the hug was more intense than expected, but she didn’t pull away. The woman of ice and fire allowed herself, if only this once, to sink into it, absorbing the warmth of my body and the safety offered by my arms.

I felt her breasts pressing against mine, her heart beating hard beneath my chin. I couldn’t help getting aroused by how close she was, and at the same time I was horrified by what was growing in my crotch. I broke the hug discreetly, just in time. I was afraid she’d notice.

—Do you feel better? —I said, pretending to be more confident than I was.

Her cheeks were burning and her breathing had quickened. It was clear she had felt it too. The tension between us was palpable, as if we had crossed an invisible line.

—Yes, of course —she mumbled, keeping up appearances, looking away—. Much better.

—Good. Second secret kept. You won’t tell anyone, right?

—Of course I trust you —she answered quickly, almost without thinking, before realizing how much that simple sentence revealed.

She bit her lower lip, as if she wanted to take it back, but it was too late. We were both playing a dangerous game of irony and sincerity mixed together, disguising one thing as another and then turning it around. It was like Russian roulette with our feelings at stake.

—Right now there’s a battle going on inside me —I confessed, not choosing my words—. One voice tells me to get closer to you, and another says I can’t do it. Don’t you feel the same way when you’re with me?

Her face took on a mask of surprise. Her eyes searched mine as if trying to read my thoughts. She lost her breath for a second.

—Come on, we’re just having a drink —she said, trying to sound carefree.

I looked at her from the other end of the sofa, one leg bent. I was aware that the woman who had intimidated me on the first day now fascinated me to a degree I had never imagined.

—The first day you intimidated me —I admitted—. Now I feel something different. You fascinate me.

She sidestepped my words by taking a sip of her drink. My eyes stayed fixed on the shape of her lips as she drank, captivated by an elegance the wine only sharpened. I remembered the intimacy of the hug, that closeness neither of us had expected.

The same inner struggle was happening inside her; I could see it. The silence between us became awkward, thick, maddening. Her fingers tightened on the sofa fabric, as if she needed to cling to something solid while her inner world swayed.

—The way I see it, I’ve got two options —I went on—. The first is to forget all this. The second is to let myself go and tell you what I feel, something I didn’t expect to feel but that has been growing these days and I can’t ignore anymore.

—Come on… we’re having a good time —Adriana said, while a shiver tightened her back and put all five senses on alert.

My words landed like slabs. She went motionless, as if frozen in time, her eyes fixed on me, brighter than ever. She was waging a silent war against herself. Her head was screaming at her to run; her body kept her pinned to the sofa.

—Don’t you say anything? Don’t you feel anything? Am I going crazy? —I insisted, raising my voice, feeling that I had exposed myself too much.

—Of course I feel something! —she finally exploded—. But we can’t just go with the first thing that crosses our minds. Don’t you understand?

In her words, reason had won out, the weight of her experience, the memory of old madnesses and scars she was not willing to repeat. She knew the shame of rejection and didn’t want to put me through it. Even so, inside she was a mess.

I could feel her doubt. She wasn’t immune to my words, just as her body had not been immune to the hug. Neither of us had seen this coming. The week had been intense, full of changes, of small everyday complicities that had little by little worn down her defenses.

The black coffee with no sugar I left for her every morning. The girls’ backpacks ready, breakfast wrapped up in their lunchboxes. The kitchen tidied at night, everything clean for the next day. Small bribes to her conscience that were slowly dissolving her reluctance and her fears about my intrusion into her home.

And above all, I had shown her that I knew how to listen. Those late-night conversations in the middle of frugal dinners, where she talked to me about the ins and outs of her work, her people, her frustrations. She no longer saw the kid she had tried to keep in line on the first day, but a man who had earned his place with effort, not only in her house, but in her life.

Suddenly I knelt in front of her. I parted her legs and gently pulled to bring her pelvis against my stomach, my hands under her bent knees. She felt exposed, vulnerable, under my control.

—Mateo, no… —she panted, bewildered—. What are you doing?

—I want you, Adriana. I’ve been wanting you for days.

I kissed her neck while breathing in her perfume and her loose hair tickled my nose. The touch of my lips on her skin short-circuited her reason. Her legs, usually steady, trembled as my hands climbed up her thighs and closed around her waist.

—We shouldn’t… —she whispered, but she didn’t push me away. Her fingers tangled in my hair and, instead of shoving me back, she pulled me closer.

***

Reason lost the battle in silence. When I lifted my face, her eyes were no longer asking me to stop. I straightened slowly and kissed her on the mouth, a kiss that had been brewing for seven days. She answered with an urgency that denied every one of her walls. Her hands found my nape, my back, my chest, as if she wanted to recover the time we had lost pretending.

—If we go upstairs —she murmured against my lips—, this stops being a secret. It becomes something else.

—Then let it be something else.

I took her by the hand and led her down the hall, both of us barefoot, holding our breath every time a stair creaked. In her room, the streetlight came in filtered through the curtains and cast soft shadows across her face. I took off her pajama top with deliberate slowness, uncovering her skin centimeter by centimeter, and she let me, looking at me with a mix of fear and desire that drove me wild.

I laid her back on the bed and took my time. I traced her neck with my mouth, down her collarbone, down the valley between her breasts, attentive to every change in her breathing. When my lips found one of her nipples, she arched her back and bit her hand so she wouldn’t make a sound, aware that the girls were sleeping on the other side of the hallway.

—Slowly —she asked, her voice breaking—. Make me feel like it isn’t a mistake.

I moved her hand away from her mouth and intertwined my fingers with hers against the pillow. I kept going lower, leaving a wet trail over her belly, until the edge of her pajama pants. I slid them down slowly, expecting a refusal that never came. When my mouth found the center of her desire, her hips lifted on their own and a muffled moan escaped between her clenched teeth.

I worked her patiently, reading her body, holding back every time I felt she was close, until her hands yanked at my hair and she begged me in a whisper to come up. I positioned myself over her, skin against skin, and looked at her one last time, searching for confirmation. She nodded, and drove her heels into the small of my back to make me stop waiting.

I entered her slowly, and we both held our breath at the same time. What followed had nothing of the coldness with which she had received me that first week. She moved with me, set the pace, bit my shoulder to stifle her own sounds. The woman of ice had melted completely in my arms, and I lost myself in her without thinking of anything beyond the heat of her body and the way she repeated my name against my ear.

We came almost at the same time, she clinging to my back, me buried in her neck. Then we stayed still, tangled together, listening to the silence of the house and our breathing coming back to normal.

—This changes nothing —she said at last, in the dark, though her hand kept drawing lazy circles on my chest.

—Of course it doesn’t —I replied, smiling against her hair.

Neither of us believed the lie, and for the first time we didn’t care. Outside, dawn was beginning to break, and I knew that this third secret was the only one we wouldn’t be able to keep much longer.