THOSE SIMS ARE NOT NAKED!
only halfway so!
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"A dream which is not interpreted is like a letter which is not read." - The Talmud
Andrae sighed, fidgeting as her body shifted into wakefulness. It took her a moment to register where, exactly, she was. She was laying on an uneven surface, pressed against something delightfully warm, as she was already rather cold. “Good morning, O’Mackey. I was wondering how much longer you could sleep like that.”
“S’not morning ….” She mumbled back, lifting her head to look up Dayne, whom she was nestled quite comfortably against, then smiled at another thought. “And it’s not O’Mackey anymore. It’s Campos.” Mrs. Dayne Campos, actually. It sounded beautiful, even if she wasn’t saying it aloud. Just the way lying curled up against him in the floor felt absolutely right. “Did we fall asleep down here?”
He chuckled, brushing a few flyaway strands of hair. “Oh, yes it is, and you did. I’ve simply been enjoying your presence. Watching you sleep, listening to you mumble.” He curled his arm around her, pulling her closer. “Contemplating what to do to you once you woke up ...” She parted her lips, but was rendered speechless as his teeth grazed the shell of her ear, tongue brushing gently at her earlobe before he moved on to plant soft kisses down her neck, over her bare shoulder, trailing his lips over her collarbone.
She moaned sleepily at the feel of his warm lips, wriggling happily as his kisses tickled her soft skin. This had to be a good way to start a marriage, because she couldn’t think of another place she would rather be. She slid a hand up his back, reaching his jet black hair to run her fingers through it. “You said I get four months of this sort of treatment?”
“We can string it out longer if you like,” Dayne responded, nipping beneath her chin. He shifted then, pulling her up in his arms, and kissed her lightly on the lips. “I don’t think you got a very good look of Paris at night before you became …. Thoroughly occupied,” he murmured, cupping her face and turning it toward the large picture window they were curled in front of. “Tell me what you think.”
She blinked, laying her head back on his shoulder. Paris at night, she had seen before, but not the way it looked from the view he’d managed to book. She turned in his arms, resting her hands on his shoulders to press a kiss to his lips. “I don’t think there are many ways it could be more perfect,” she smiled, pushing him down on his back, leaning down over him to rest her forehead against his.
“Me either.” He sighed deeply, running his hands up her back, lifted them to cup her face, and pressed a tender kiss to her lips. “I love you, Drae.”
Tilting his head just slightly to the side, Dayne pressed another soft kiss to the corner of her mouth. “God, I miss you.”
She frowned in confusion, lifting up to lay a hand on his chest. “What?” He shook his head, only giving her a wry smile as he lifted her hand to kiss her palm.
Andrae jerked up from her dream, throwing a look around the room, pushing her covers back and frantically tossing pillows out of her way– but it was no use. Dayne wasn’t there. It had been fourteen years since Drae O’Mackey had been able to wake up nestled against him. She wasn’t ever going to find his peacefully sleeping body nestled against hers ever again, as she should very well know. She sucked in a shattered breath as she choked on a silent sob, closing her eyes as she dug her nails into the duvet. ‘God, I miss you …’
Throwing her legs over the edge of the bed, she moved immediately to the bathroom so she could wash her face in the sink, splashing cool water over her newly tearstained cheeks. She turned the tap off, leaning on the countertop to look at her reflection – but jerked up at the sound of a clatter upstairs. She straightened, walking quickly out of the room to go find her daughter. Her first instinct was worry, but upon thinking of the possibilities while she climbed the stairs to the attic, Drae realized that she had probably simply fallen to the floor while climbing in through the window from a late night – or early morning – walk, or perhaps had managed to knock over her bookcase. Peeking into the room, Andrae wasn’t surprised to find that Leanelle wasn’t in her bed. She let herself in, finding that the light was on in the “closet” – which was more or less a sectioned storage room that contained a bunch of old junk, along with most of the belongings Nelle had brought over from Karen and Darrius’ place. “Nelle ….” Drae frowned, leaning against the open doorway to the closet. “What are you doing?”
The girl didn’t answer at first, bent over something that the older woman couldn’t quite see, and holding up a canvas tarp in one hand. When Drae took a few steps forward, however, Nelle quickly moved out of the way, leaving the painting she’d been studying quite open to view. Andrae’s eyes widened and she skidded back a step, bumping right into the wall. She couldn’t think of a worse situation to wake up to – why hadn’t she put this picture away in his study? “You told me you didn’t keep contact with him.” Drae swallowed, refusing to look at the teenager who stood, arms crossed, just before her. “Why would you lie about that?”
“What are you doing in here?” Andrae snapped back, eyes still focused on the painting. A commissioned portrait of herself, pressed close against Dayne and holding a tiny infant Nelle.
“I was looking for something to wear to the gymnastics meet.” She muttered. “All my clothes are in here.”
That must have been what had fallen, Drae registered, surveying the piles of clothes on the floor near her painting. “Why don’t you just wear a pair of jeans and …. Oh, never mind.” A grin pulled at her lips, but Nelle wasn’t having any of the woman’s teasing.
“We’re off topic – the picture?” She pointed, scowling at the happy portrait of three, and Andrae bit her lip, the sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach deepening. Avoiding the subject was so much easier – even lying about it. But, as she did know, it was also selfish. Pushing him away and keeping him to herself wasn’t something she should be doing, but in their situation … it was just easier that way. “Aundri,” Nelle murmured, furrowing her brows.
Drae swallowed. She couldn’t be mad at Leanelle for stumbling across the picture. It was she who was the emotional basket case that was afraid to pick it up and move it out of her sight. And apparently it was time Nelle found just exactly where she came from. “It’s complicated,” she muttered in a last feeble attempt to wiggle free of the situation. Nelle glared. “But …. Come on. I’ll make us some tea.”
Downstairs in the kitchen, Leanelle sat down at the table while Andrae moved directly to the stove with the kettle. The clock cheerfully chimed at one in the morning, and Nelle filled the silence between them with her first question, the most predictable. “Who is he?”
“Was he,” Drae corrected absently, eyes on the tea kettle.
“Was he?”
“Your father’s name was Dayne Campos.”
Nelle frowned slightly, keeping quiet for a moment. “Why is it complicated?”
“Because it’s easier to lie to you,” her mother responded softly. “It keeps your mom from hating me. Keeps me from having to think too much.” She faltered on the word ‘mom’. It was always hard for Andrae to think in her mind of her sister as Leanelle’s ‘mother’. But legally, she certainly was - Nelle’s adoptive mother. Andrae, on the other hand, got to play the role of favorite aunt. Nelle had known since she was nearly eight what the odd arrangement was, but mother and aunt in their two reversible roles with the carefully molded lie of origin were set in her mind.
“Why would she hate you?”
Andrae chuckled dryly. “She didn’t like him. She was mad at me. I suppose she had the right to be …” She trailed off before being interrupted by the screeching whistle of the kettle and plucked it from the burner, pouring the heated water over the waiting bags already placed in their respective mugs, and carried them over to the table. The decision to tell the other girl what she wanted to know had been easier to make than Drae had anticipated, but the tale in itself, she was certain, wouldn’t be. She may need a fair bit of help. “Anyway …”
“Right …” Nelle pulled her mug closer, dropping a couple of spoonfuls of sugar from the dish into her cup with a drizzle of honey. “So …. What happened?”
Drae frowned, stirring her still-steeping tea. “A lot,” she paused, glancing at Leanelle. “What do you want to know first?”
She shrugged. “Start at the beginning.”
“You realize that this isn’t going to take just one night, don’t you?” Drae frowned.
“Well … yeah.”
“I might have to stop. Frequently.”
“Okay.”
Drae pressed her lips together in a firm line then let out a long sigh. “Where’s the beginning?” Pursing her lips, she ran her fingers through her hair. “We met through Alisdair-“
“Uncle Alis?”
“Right, Alis. Anyway, Dayne had moved to Giovanni a while ago, and the two of them taught at the University – Alis, you know is in Literature and Dayne had a few Journalism classes. I called Alis to make him come out with me, and he happened to drag Dayne with him so he wouldn’t have to suffer alone.” She rolled her eyes, a hint of a smile curving her mouth. The scene was easy to picture, easy to fall back into, even if she preferred not to …
“Sorry we’re late,” Alisdair grumbled, sliding into the table across from his baby sister.
“You’re not sorry,” Andrae responded with a roll of her eyes. “You did it on purpose.” She paused, blinking as her eldest brother’s accompaniment sat down as well, though she wasn’t quite sure he’d even looked at her – he was quite busy scrawling something in a notebook. “Who’s this?”
“Dayne, meet my little sister, Andrea. Drae, this is Dayne. Teaches journalism at the university.” Alis leaned back in his chair, running his fingers through his long dark hair.
“Nice to meet you,” Drae smiled brightly – and receiving a small, absent nod and an “Mm, you too …” before she glanced up as the waiter dropped by. “Piña colada, two scotches. Ballantine, and more breadsticks.” She rolled her eyes back to Alis and Dayne, pursing her lips as she studied the former’s slightly bent head and dark eyelashes as he continued his writing and scribbling, oblivious to Alisdair or herself for the most part. Of course, Alis would bring someone as antisocial as he was. “You surprised me, Alis, dear. He certainly wasn’t what I expected.”
“Oh, and what were you expecting?” Alis’ lips curled into a smirk.
“Another of your cute little lit students dressed up like a doll and looking for an A.”
Alis chuckled. “I think he’d look a little ridiculous in a dress, don’t you?”
Dayne lifted his head, frowning slightly between the two of them – giving Drae the first good look at his face. “I would look ridiculous in a dress,” he assured them, tapping his pen against the open notebook. He was saved further explanation though, as the waiter returned, sliding the honey colored scotches into place before the two men, and placed Drae’s piña colada in her hand. “Ballantine, you said?” He raised an eyebrow, swirling the blended scotch whiskey in the tumbler. She nodded, sipping her own concoction through her straw. “Good girl.”
For a moment, she couldn’t decide whether to kick him or blow him a kiss, but settled on the latter, earning a cocked eyebrow and a hint of a smile as he raised his glass to his lips. “So,” she asked, relaxing back in her seat, “what are you working on, Dayne?”
Alis moved to pull his cigarettes from his pocket, offering Campos one as well, and leaned in as he lit it, taking a short drag as Dayne lit his own while he answered. “I’ve got a deadline to meet,” he smiled wryly, “my editor expects a finished chapter the day after tomorrow – and I’m two chapters behind schedule.”
Alis’ smirk had yet to leave his mouth, but Drae was ignoring it rather well. “Ah, I see. Novel?”
“Mmhm.”
“Your name sounds familiar,” she mused, propping her chin on her knuckles. “Campos …”
He chuckled, taking another swig of scotch. “I bet it does.”
Alis grinned, taking a drink from his tumbler as well, and Drae couldn’t help but wonder what he was up to. What, exactly, had he brought Dayne for, rather than his usual arm candy? She couldn’t say she wasn’t enjoying his company more though … And not only because he was rather nice to look at. He had her interested – which was probably Alis’ plan all along. For whatever reason, she would find out later.
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“Aundri …. Aundri … Mom,” Nelle’s voice sliced into Andrae’s thoughts, causing her to look up.
“Huh?”
“You just … stopped talking.”
“Oh, right …. When?”
Leanelle blinked, furrowing her brows. “Um, after you said you thought Uncle Alis was planning something. You just sort of trailed off and started looking at something over my head.”
Andrae nodded slowly, poking her tea cup. “Sorry – I got … I don’t want to talk anymore.” She stood up, pushing her chair in under the table.
“Don’t want to – what??” Nelle frowned. “You just started!”
And it hurts! She wanted to retort, but held her tongue, shaking her head. “I said I would need to stop frequently. This is the first frequent stop. And it’s,” she paused, glancing at the clock on the stove, “after two in the morning! You have to wake up to go to the meet, don’t you? You need to get to bed.”
“That’s not until noon!”
“I thought Cross said he was going to swing by and pick you up? Don’t want to keep him waiting; he has to be there early. You’ll sleep till the last minute.”
Nelle’s cheeks darkened at the mentioned of Jareth Cross’ name, but rolled her eyes. “I’m not-“
“Go to bed, Nelle.”
The teenager once again parted her lips with some sort of snappy response, but seemed to think better of it. Instead, she muttered a ‘good night’ and turned out of the room, abandoning her tea cup on the table as she retreated to her bedroom. Andrae sighed, closing her eyes for a moment before opening them to locate the phone. She had a call to make.
