Sometimes when I'm in town shopping, I look everywhere, trying to see if I spot an agent. I guess I sometimes miss the mystery and excitement. I liked thinking there was more to the periphery of an otherwise empty life. I needed there to be.
That night I had a dream. The blond agent lurked in the shadows until deciding to reveal himself. He really was quite beautiful. When he confronted me, I promised to stay away from Vincens and whatever trouble he was into, but I got addicted to danger. There was also more to it. This man was hot. I wondered what it was like to kiss this man who kept all of his emotions hidden as if behind a glass wall. I wanted to unleash that like a torrent and let it wash over me. I wanted him to melt against my touch.
Out in the shadows, he stood out like a light. And I'm a moth hovering out of my own darkness toward him. He won't let me near his light, knowing I'll only burn myself up in it. I imagined that he pulled me into his strong arms. Although it was probably a sense of duty for my safety, I longed for it to be something more. I wanted there to be a hint of desire in those cold eyes like a forbidden secret between us. But even my dream did not give me what he wanted. The agent stared at me for a moment before releasing me.
He ordered me, "Stay away from him. You don't know what you are dealing with."
"Then why don't you tell me?"
"Because it doesn't concern you."
In my dream, he saw me as a wild creature like a strange moth with striking features. I dazzled him, terrifying him in ways he couldn't control. Okay, I added that part after I woke up. I would have also liked us to tear off our clothes and have mad, passionate sex. I guess that is what daydreams are for.
This dream left me with an unrequited ache. I stared out the window. Tumbling in the breeze and crackling against the pavement, dry leaves blew down the street, which curved around toward the river. Winter was never easy. Soon, this will all be covered in snow.
Wearing a red dress, red flats, I went about my day, feeling watched. There were some things in my memory that I suppressed. Not long after I started dating Vincens, my ex-husband Joe yelled at me, asked me why there was a tracking device on the car. He said he found the device when he was doing routine maintenance on it. I didn't know what to say. I kind of felt stunned. Am I really a criminal now? A target? I shrugged. It was an innocent date. I didn't get into this mess on purpose, but yes, I should have left right away. Only, I didn't. Why? Maybe it was exciting. Maybe I liked the game.
"What are you involved in?" he asked, looking at me with disgust.
"I...I don't know."
Things deteriorated with Joe after that. The man I once loved began to hate me, though I was numb from all of the heartache he had caused me; all the sleepless nights I waited to see if he would even come home or stay at some woman's house. I felt thrown away. Putting myself online, as if trying to show my worth to men who were shopping for some fantasy woman left me anxious. If Joe didn't want me, why would some other man want me if I couldn't check all of the boxes on their wish list?
I went out to eat alone, not wanting to be at home with Joe. Eventually, he had moved out, but I barely noticed. I still wanted to enjoy a good meal every now and again. Perhaps by chance, I noticed one of the FBI agents eating at the restaurant I frequented. I pretended not to notice. Here was a man who potentially knew all my secrets. He knew I was still married and that I dated an informant he controlled. I'm sure he thought the worst of me. Did he want to control me too? Kill me? I dared to meet his eye. When our gaze locked, I felt a rush of emotion. Maybe it was shame, fear, or arousal. He didn't blink or turn away. Normally, it would feel intimate, but this was unsettling. I felt exposed and in danger. Maybe I didn't care.
Once, when I was assaulted by a man in my teens, I sat on a slope by a highway as cars whizzed by. Alone in the shadows, I struggled with the inner and outer pain, briefly considering ending it all. Part of me wanted to jump into the traffic to end it all. Would anybody even know why I did it or wonder if it were an accident? Only someone in my shoes would understand what I felt that day or why I would ponder the unthinkable. I'm not quite sure what it was that kept me from doing it. I got up and walked home and tried never to think about it. I never told anyone about it. Maybe deep down, I'm still trying to subconsciously kill myself. How else would I explain my wanting to stay in danger? Do I think I deserve it?
I'm sure there are many reasons for my careless actions. I'm sure they've brought me here today, though I'm working on integrating my shadows in some Jungian way. I've revisited the worst pain and humiliation in my life and am trying to come to terms with it. Maybe there is more yet to do. I guess I have pain inside and it makes me destructive at times.
That night, I kept eating my meal, pretending to be oblivious to the agent. I chewed carefully, neither too slow nor too fast. I didn't want him to know I "made" him, though I'm sure he knew it. I did my best to act naturally. I'm sure I conveyed nervousness. I pretended he was just another man in the room and how was I supposed to know who he worked for? I wouldn't have known if Vincens didn't tell me.
I looked down at my pasta and rubbed the back of my neck. I'm not sure what he read in my body language or what he guessed for my intent, but I suddenly felt overwhelmed. My muscles ached. I sipped my water, trying to settle my nerves. Against better judgment, I glanced up again, wanting to find that gorgeous face with the well-defined jawline and the tense lips. Instead, an empty chair got my attention. For some reason, my heart sank. I felt a loss with his absence.
"Stop!" I silently scolded myself, "Don't be foolish. That man would destroy your life."
Even so, I desired him. Heat. A moth to a bright, beautiful flame. Consume me in a passionate moment. I'd be fine with that. Vania means Butterfly, my mother told me. I'm kind of plain, so I think a moth represents me better. I took a detour on my way home and parked by the bridge, wondering if I should jump. I don't have any wings to save me.
That night I watched the news and there was a crime report. The reporter interviewed the Supervisory Special Agent, named Albion Hart. My mind blanked on whatever story they were covering. That face captivated me. I now had a name to go with the blond agent. So calm and composed, he relayed facts in a detached manner. Stiff and unobtainable, he really was a beautiful man, but so are many dangerous creatures that one should never ever get close to...if they want to survive.