Things happen for a reason. Unlike a lot of very wise persons, who think the contrary, I'm deeply convinced about that fact. It is a possibility that this belief comes from my Judeo-Christian education: life is an apprenticeship and this experience can only be accomplished through suffering, testing and pain. You always live with a sword of Damocles above your head: someday, you'll have to pay for whatever you did or didn't do. It happens because it's just the way it is.

Not.

It has more to do about the Buddhist way of apprehending life: a door closes for another one to open (or a window from which you can throw yourself out, as I read once).  Not that Buddhism is my religion. Not at all. But what other explanation could there be to what I had lived in Algiers and how could I have left my child there at Yasim mercy?

There had to be a reason. 

During the aftermath of this ordeal it had been pretty clear to me that if I couldn't find a reasonable way to explain the why and the how, I couldn't find a single good reason to feel my heart beating and let my blood flooding in my veins. That's why I made this saying mine. It also helped me keeping my reason...

This was even the only possibility to cling to and then start a reconstruction: there should be a scheme behind all that. It had to be. It couldn't all have been in vain. As it appeared, four whole years had been necessary to meet the incarnation of the "door" which had opened consecutively to my abandonment of Luca.

Terry. Terry was the reason.

Of course the realization that he would be the one to help me find peace of mind and take me out of the abyss where I had been hiding didn't dawn on me at once. I took the side paths...meeting men at the Pub, mostly alpha-males...Jack, Zack, Hando. You know the kind.

I tested, teased and pushed until their backs hit the wall. Which was a sure sign that a main part of me had deeply changed: where the old Gaia would have been shy, remote and waiting to be talking to, the new one was bold, conquering and having no mercy for the men who stood in front of her.

Once I had been the prey. I then chose to be the hunter. 

But it hadn't been what I would call a conscious choice of mine to act the opposite of what I once was. By pushing those men I was evaluating both their both physical and mental limits, trying to understand what in my aggressive behavior would make them react at one point. And mostly how they would react. Yes. That was very important to me. To know what they would use to keep me under control. Would they use force? Words? Humiliation? Indifference? It was like watching myself doing some kind of scientific experiment. I had to probe in order to understand. It didn't matter if that experience was leading somewhere. Only the results mattered.

Hando was the kind of guy who would instantly and directly react to my aggressiveness by physically crowding me, threatening me with some excessive sexual behavior (which even if it was brand new for me was rather interesting...) or even grab me with such bestial strength that I could feel the beast inside him waking up. But he never hurt me. This pure sexual attraction between us was fantastic and I have to admit that we succumbed a few times to that delicious feeling. I don't know if Hando learned anything from these moments we spent together. As for me, I learned that sex could be liberating and even hurt a little. If it was made between two willing adults, there were almost no boundaries to what your body could take.

Zack...hum...Zack. It was a complete different story with him. After having removed all the onions layers of his grumpy demeanor, I discovered such a tender and gentle person. So trustworthy too. Who better than a person with his own demons could recognize another with demons of her own? He did. Almost instantly. However he never questioned me about them certainly feeling that I could snap into craziness almost instantly.

The sex between Zack and I had been a way for both of us put aside the weight we were carrying. They were moments when we had no past and no future. A moment out of time because we were both aware that time runs through your fingers and can take everything you care the most about just like that.

And then Jack. What can I say about him? He never deceived me. I first took a lot of pleasure pushing his buttons. It gave me power over him and I must admit that I felt better in those days with him than most of the previous months. Holding power between your hands again when you've been reduced to a piece of flesh and an insignificant insect waiting to be crushed by a malevolent foot once felt so good! I tickled him shamelessly.

A few weeks after we parted Jack told me that he had overplayed his natural aggression towards the French (and particularly against me) a little. That he had felt it was a way for me of exorcizing whatever I had lived previously. And that he had enjoyed our fantasy sessions greatly. What a sweet man he is...and sensible too. Thinking back about that time with him, the most obvious explanation for my behavior was that I had to accept the violence that I had inside of me. That we all possessed in fact. That we were civilized animals but animals nonetheless.

Terry arrived in my life when I had finally understood who I really was, what I wanted and most importantly what I didn't want. He held all the components that attracted me to the other alpha-males: the violence, the tenderness and the fantasy that I now had accepted as a being part of my life. He had challenged my ability to put my trust again in someone time after time. And had succeeded by piercing my shell with such gentle and tender care that he finally helped me overcome the fear that Yasim had so easily implanted into my mind: that I had been abused because I was weak and I let him do it.

During our first few months together, Terry and I had gone through several small crises. Uma had been the first but major one. The others were more what I call "domestic" and didn't really endanger us as a couple. It was without counting my biggest failure that was dangling above our heads and threatening to explode. Not because I had forgotten to say that I had a son who was living with his father. This I could easily divulge: Luca was my finest achievement. But because I had failed to protect him. A parent has to do everything to protect their child from threats. It's more than an obligation. It's a moral duty. Only I wasn't ready to accept that leaving Luca was the sole way of saving his life. Even if I had sacrificed my life, it wouldn't have helped one bit. Deep inside me I had understood and accepted that fact. But my failure as a mother was salt on my wounds and that's why, when Terry discovered the truth that I completely lost it. "How can he do that to me" I told myself. I should have said "How could I do that to me AND to him?" It's a fact that you are always wiser AFTER the shit hit the fan and that the man you love left you.

In the end this week at Taos had been a benediction. The perfect alibi to hide from Terry and my problems. Losing myself in luxury and in an infinite sea of sensual debauchery. Looking back now on this week at Taos I'm sure that if this week had taken place another time, there's no doubt in my mind that the men wouldn't have had to break in the spa. I had witnessed the unsatisfied movement that spread among the girls when Chili took away any device that could make us keep a link with the outside...meaning with the men. With Marie's tenaciousness, Bou's skills, Clarity's calm force together with the others' help, we all could have found a way to break out from Chili's golden prison. Only it wasn't the case. Some of the girls had problems of their own to deal with. For example, I had noticed that Ann surrendered a little too quickly at Chili's instructions. Could it be possible that there was some trouble in paradise for Maximus and her too? That pained me beyond reason... they seem to get on so well together...

The days passed in a blur and were spent in spas, swimming pools, many sorts of massages, face treatments, algae wraps and massages I never knew existed. From the exterior, it seemed that I was following Chili's precepts scrupulously. In fact, I was just doing whatever I could to bury Stéphanie's voice inside my head telling me to stop acting like Daddy's little girl and grow up.

The evening would find me physically exhausted but mentally overactive, endlessly running the same harsh words Terry and I had exchanged since that night at home. Which didn't help for the sleep. Each morning would be more and more difficult to find a single good reason to leave my bed and mingle with the girls. A small example of how depressed I felt: I even gave the chocolate box that Chili had missed in my luggage to my (starving and angry) friends. I felt detached, lost and as sad as a stone. But I made a point of honour not to show my miserable state and tried to act as normal as possible during the days. I wasn't ready to face their questions about what had happened between Terry and me.

Terry had been like the sun to me...bright and blinding and with such force within him that I had felt drawn to him as strongly as Icarus once felt toward the burning star. I saw myself like a planet, irremediably attracted to him but with enough independence and strength to turn around him trying to avoid burning my wings. This attraction / repelling way of functioning seemed to have characterized our relationship lately. The repelling part mostly I mean. Because one way or another and despite what I had believed once, we had no future together. The words that had been thrown at each other in the taxi on the way to the airport were meant to hurt and destroy any hope or trust the other ever had in the loved one. And it did. Who would be crazy enough to forgive the other? I wish I was.... My cowardice had made me lose almost everything that mattered once again... I say almost because I still had wonderful friends around me...

No need for me to fake the pleasure to be with them in Taos...living among them was the best part of that stay. Without their comforting presence I really don't know what I would have been up to. Their good humour, genuine playfulness and sweet friendship prevented me from completely losing my grip again. They were my anchor and my sanity. And they didn't even notice it... The last time I had dealt with such grief hadn't been my finest hour: I had simply let myself die, sure that my salvation could be only be found in the depths of the endless sleep. Only the sleep wouldn't come...

Those four nights seemed like four years: my mind was already gone elsewhere, hallucinations were frequent and my body felt anesthetized and glued to the mattress. I was unable to move a fingertip without losing my sanity, my spirit was leaving my body, wandering in circle around me, turning and turning in a mad dance. I could take it no more. It had to stop.

When Bou saw me walking toward her, I'm quite sure she knew why I had come to her. Maybe it had to do with my miserable expression but I tend to think that she has a particular sense of perception that she either was born with or was developed through the practice of medicine. She didn't ask anything, only grabbed my wrist and waited a few seconds until my pulse told her what she needed to know. With the discreet and efficient way that defines Bou, she rummaged inside her bag, pulled out a few sachets and started mixing leaves and powders in a small bowl. I watched, mesmerized as her lips were moving in a silent incantation. Was she talking to the mixture or to her gods? I found her movements extremely relaxing and when she took my hands and thrust the bowl between my hands I just stared at her.

"Ask for boiled water...wait until it's lukewarm and then pour the herbs. Wait for 15 minutes and drink 7 gulps every 7 minutes at least 4 times. It will help you, believe me..."

I nodded and carefully stepped out of her room, carrying the bowl like a treasure. On the door step I turned and simply thanked her. Her gaze was gentle on me and she nodded.

Half hour later, lying on the bed, my eyes glued to the soft yellow ceiling, I did something that I hadn't done in any years: I prayed. Talking to whoever could hear me up there, I said everything that was on my heart. The mistakes, the failures, the happiness Terry had brought me, the life that was now going on without my son. It did good to me, it soothed my soul. I felt quieter and at peace with myself. I slowly closed my eyes... but I still wasn't ready to sleep. Just when I was telling myself that maybe Bou's medicine wasn't working on me a strange thing happened: I saw the room... with my eyes still closed. That freaked me out. I could see the bed I was laying on, the door of the bathroom, the armchairs, the pedestal table and the mess made by my clothes, beauty products and shoes all around the room.

In fact, I also could see myself...below. My mind and my body weren't one anymore. I was a spirit, freed from all ties. When that realisation dawned in me I wasn't the least surprised. It was so good, so liberating and so joyful! I wanted to laugh, cry and shout at the same time! All the sadness, all the exhaustion was gone...

For people who never experienced this kind of state I perfectly understand that they wouldn't believe even the beginning of that tale. But it happened. That's all I can say. It's not rational. It's a state. You just "are". 

How many minutes passed? Was it 5 minutes...or 5 hours? I can't tell. Does it matter? Ever so slowly, I went down to my body and examined it with attention. The next moment I plunged and the experience was over. A huge sigh of contentment escaped from my body and soul. Reunited. Whole again. Only then sleep claimed me. I dived in with all my force and let go. I have no recollection of the dreams I may had that night.

Some strange noises woke me. People were talking in the corridor, doors were opened, joyful cries were bursting from everywhere and then hushed conversations. Now that was bizarre and it's only when my brain registered Terry's voice that I snapped awake. It wasn't a dream anymore. It was real. So perfectly real that I swallowed a cry. There he was, rapping against my bedroom door. I ran to the door and put my ear against it and listened to him...my heart beating furiously in excitement.

"Gaia....you awake? It's me...Terry...I'm so sorry...so very sorry...I had to come and tell you that...I couldn't wait any longer with the way things were...I shouldn't have done it to you...but I did. But now I know...let me in. Let me help you...please......?"

He stumbled a little bit when I opened the door. He stood there, staring at me and I can say shamelessly that I did exactly like him...I drank in the sight of him... His clothes were rumpled and he didn't look fresh at all.

The sounds coming from the hallway told me that I wasn't the only one dealing with a drunken lover. I heard a loud "boom", Marie's voice and then Bud laughing. Jack. His voice as loud as if talking to a crowd of seamen, announcing in his flourish and unique way that he had "docked" and some shouted whispers I recognized as being John's and Cort's. Something told me that the diets and infusions were history. No man with self respect would indulge his body such a barbarian treatment... At the promise of real food and for the first time in ages, my stomach growled. "Jesus...my fucking head's spinning...I gotta lie down". Terry approached the bed and by the way he let himself fall on it, his head caught between his hands and eyes closed, I could tell that he was as drunk as a Polish (French expression for "as drunk as a lord"). Even after having discovered that I had deliberately omitted to tell him about my troubled past, even if I had flown away, hiding like a criminal in the Spa, even now that he fully got to know the kind of woman I really was... here he was... ... after having broken heroically inside the Spa's facilities.

For someone who was always in total control of himself the reality of being the cause of such an unusual state for him literally broke my heart in two. I had done that to him. Thinking for a moment I came to the conclusion that if he had put himself in such a state and had come here...maybe he still cared about me? Maybe it was the second chance I had asked for a few hours ago. Begged was more the word. I had begged to be given a second chance. And I wasn't about to waste it. He deserved my explanations as much as I deserved his forgiveness. We would find a way. I had faith now.

Terry groaned and I snapped back into reality. God... he really looked miserable. I grabbed some painkillers from my beauty case and tenderly put my hand under his nape to incline his head and help him swallow the pills with a sip of fresh water. He grunted briefly and the moment his head touched the mattress he was sound asleep, snoring lightly... Had I ever heard a more delicious noise? I think not...

Apparently, the painful explanations would have to wait until the morning...

For him to be more comfortable, I removed his shoes and pants before delicately kissing him and nuzzling against his body praying that the day to come would bring us a new understanding and trust in each other.

"Sweet dreams, mon preux chevalier," I whispered "N'oublie pas que je t'aime de tout mon cœur... Miss Scarlet better be right when she said "Tomorrow is another day"..." And there were the last words I muttered before he firmly put his arms around me and dragged me to rest against his torso.

When he woke up he found me sitting watching him. The sun that had licked my food had woken me quite early. I first hadn't moved, simply enjoying Terry's presence beside me. He had looked much better than a few hours before and was sleeping peacefully with his arm hiding his face.

Even if he had come to me last night, something odd was still lingering between us. A kind of forced cheerfulness. He did the talking while I listened quietly to his morning mumbling. "Did I tie one on last night? Been a long time since I drank that much...was I difficult? If I was that's something else to be sorry about."

He explained how they all got in and took the security off, that it was just a walk in the park and why Special Forces were special. I smelt a rat somewhere because there was no doubt in my mind that, drunk as they were, it was a miracle that every man had been able to find his girl's room... He had come and that was the only important thing I wanted to cling to at the moment.

Still lost in my thoughts he surprised me by jumping out of the bed and heading straight to the bathroom "I'm not here to talk about that. I need a shower, shave and some food and then we sit down and talk. You got that?" He pointed his finger at me, seriously looking at me. I got the message loud and clear. "I'm not leaving this room until we sort things out. I've walked away too many times, seen what I want drive off and leave me behind....not going to do it this time, love..." Love. I knew he was using that tender word with all persons who had bigger breasts than him and even if it was foolish of me, this small word gave me strength and courage to face the difficult moments that lay ahead...

"Go shower and shave" I told him "I'll order a breakfast and then we'll talk. I'll fill the blanks; explain to you the whole story. But before that, there are two things I wanted to tell you: First, I love you. And two, just like you I'll do anything possible to save our relationship. Now go wash, I'll call room service..." He nodded and disappeared behind the door, leaving me the eyes lost in the blue: it had started. We were in motion. Surprisingly I wasn't nervous anymore. He only wanted to hear me. I had nothing else to hide. He knew the most important parts of my story.

He attacked straight after the room service boy had left a rolling table covered with a solid breakfast, steaming tea for him and creamy cappuccino for me.

"Tell me about Yasim". His question was open. I could start wherever I felt to. I licked the mousse from my lips and sighted.

"We met at the French embassy in September 1994. My father, who was ambassador at that time, had organized an informal gathering with French entrepreneurs who had travelled to meet Italian investors in Rome. The goal was evidently to play the matchmaker and offer a possibility for French companies to get a foothold in Italy. My father had asked me to be present for the dinner that would take place during the evening, the women not being really represented in the highest layers of power. A nice meal was always duller without the sparkling and lightness that women usually bring...his words." The memory of my father this night, so handsome and smart in his tuxedo made my heart squeeze with tenderness.

"I was 24 years old and still wet behind the ears, spending my time between economical studies and international fencing competitions. This sport was all my life. I had held a sword the moment my little arm had the ability to support the weight of it. It was also, I understood later, the only way to enter into communication with my Dad. When he had time, we would go straight in our private weapon room to train. He pushed me to my limits, taught me the respect of the adversary but also how to find the strength and peevishness you had to surround yourself before a fight. The ultimate goal being to go and literally kill the person in front of you." Raising my right hand I looked at it and instantly saw my gloved hand holding my sword, saluting the adversary, the referee and the public. It was so strange. A palpable and strong feeling yet a lifetime ago...

I went on. "Yasim was present as a top manager of an international seed trading company in Marseilles. He was sitting beside me during dinner and it is how everything started. He was charming, witty and handsome. The kind of man who attracted attention. Mostly feminine, you can imagine... We clicked instantly." There was no need to share more information of our relationship with Terry. First I didn't want to pain Terry or wound him with the images of my torrid interludes with Yasim. Secondly, these moments of pure passion had been so tainted by Yasim's further acts that it wasn't possible for me to accept that our first moments together weren't dictated by an agenda he had planned and schemed to get me where he wanted me.

Chasing those bittersweet memories from my mind, I leaned to take a piece of bread from the tray and bit it with gusto. How naïve I had been at that time...

"But he lived in Marseilles..." Terry put me back on the tracks immediately.

"Yes... During the autumn of '94 I travelled several times to meet him when my schedule allowed it. Quicker than expected, the contacts that he had developed during that famous day at the embassy bore their fruits: he was sent just before Christmas to study the possibilities of opening a branch of his company in the Rome area. He was staying in a classy hotel in the centre of Rome, working 18 hours a day and we would spend most of his free time together. My father wasn't thrilled about my affair with Yasim. And this had nothing to do with racism, if you need to know. Really. My father is quite an open minded person. But Yasim being Algerian by his Father and French by his mother, my father quickly understood that even if Yasim wasn't practising his religion, which was Islam, the strong family bonds he still kept in Algeria could reveal themselves more problematic than expected. Yasim had a western way of life because he was born in the South of France, his father having immigrated in his teens to find a job and had met Yasim's mother there. But Yasim was flying more than regularly to keep an eye on a small business he had developed with some of his cousins. And this, for my father, was a source of deep worry. He perfectly knew the condition of the women in these parts of North Africa and that at one point Yasim might want to go live with me . My father warned me but I assured him that Yasim had a life in Europe anyway and in the case it was discussed I would never agree to go live in Algeria. Only things never go like you planned them, don't you agree? End of February '95 and to my greatest shock, we discovered that I was expecting a child. Yasim asked me to marry him the same day the gynaecologist told us that our baby to come was a boy... I didn't make the connection between those two events until much later... too late... if only I had understood that very day..." 

The feeling of Terry's hand on mine brought me back to present. This gesture was a way of saying "I'm here now". I sadly smiled at him. "It's not that I didn't love Yasim. But it was too hurried in a sense for me. We had never lived together, you see. Didn't even have the time to think about that possibility actually. When I told him we first should buy a small house, you know, with a garden and a fireplace and then see if we were getting alone well... he hated the idea. He was telling me that he would make a fairy tale of my life, that he loved me so much that he couldn't imagine living a single day without me and that my pregnancy was a sure sign that destiny wanted us together as husband and wife."

Bitter laughter died in my throat. "And you know the funniest?" Terry shook his head, waiting for me to give the answer. "He really believed that! The "you-are-my-destiny" crap. I thought he was romantic. Was he in love with me? Yes, I believe so... but his mind was already filled with notions he wanted me to adhere to but perfectly knew I wouldn't agree with most of them. In May we got married. A little civil celebration, with our closest family and a few friends. I met his parents: Hadi and Gabrielle, a nice couple. They accepted me without problem, so happy for us and for the heir to come... Yasim was their only child and already 33 so they were kind of breathing in relief that he was getting married and soon to be the father of a boy. They had waited so long...his father told me. My parents-in-law were preparing to move back to Algiers when Hadi would retire a few months later... and they invited us to come visit them anytime we could or wanted...

We didn't have the time for a honeymoon because Yasim had to meet his boss mid-May in Marseilles to present the project he had worked upon the last months and take the head of the new company in Italy. We moved in a beautiful apartment in centre of Rome, a place close to the sphere of influence Yasim needed to help his business to come. Life with him was good...when he was home. He worked overtime, travelled a lot. He asked me to immediately stop fencing...for the baby's sake. Fencing and being pregnant aren't incompatible, you know. But I stupidly complied. Our social life was a frenzy: we were going out during the week-ends, meet friends and go to gallery openings, operas, business parties. But most of the weeks I was alone and dreaming about our house in the Roman suburbia and how I would decorate it and the neighbours I would meet... My economical studies at the La Sapienza were finally a good thing. I kept seeing people and dived into the work like never before. My pregnancy was great. No nausea, only some tiredness the first months and you can't imagine the energy I had the last 2 trimesters! You should have seen me, running from the classrooms to the swimming pool to the grocery store, cooking, cleaning. I felt so good with this little life growing inside me..."

I paused. The breakfast was over; we had eaten almost everything that had been brought. Terry stood and stretched his arms, inviting me in his embrace. I relaxed while sniffing his scent... God, I missed my son so much. He took me to the sofa and we sat comfortably, our feet up against the table, still holding each other.

"Luca was born in the morning of October 7th, 1995 in Roma. I immediately forgot the 10 hours pain I'd gone through the moment they put him on my belly. He was in perfect health...the feel of his tiny little fingers stroking my breast when I was feeding him...

My eyes closed by themselves. "You can't explain the sensation when your child is drinking from your breast. It's so powerful, as if he's sucking life out of you... The contact of our skins... timeless...fabulous. Yasim couldn't have been prouder. He was now the father of boy, a successful manager, he had officially opened his company's branch in Italy 3 weeks before and had a devoted and compliant wife. We loved each other. We were now a family. Everything was smooth between us... When Luca was 3 months old we travelled to Algiers to show him to Yasim's family. Of course my two men were treated like kings there. But I was a woman and even if I never felt any animosity from any member of Yasim's family, you didn't need to be Einstein to understand that I was not his equal. When Yasim asked me to wear a tchador while out of the house and not to drink alcohol under my parents-in-law roof I easily agreed. I saw it as a way to show his parents that I cared for their culture and that by respecting these demands, I was respecting them. All the preconceptions and the worries I had were swept away during that stay and the next too: it seemed like a brand new adventure to get to know new customs, eat new food and meet all the numerous but friendly members of that family."

"We travelled several time to Algiers through the years and each time everything had been fine. Luca was an easy child although he already had a strong mind...like all children I guess. When he was 1, I decided to finish my studies that I had stopped when he was born. I had never achieved anything in my adult life and I suddenly felt that I had to finish something once, you know, get a diploma... even if it was out of question for me to work: Yasim had been very clear about that in the early stages of my pregnancy. We had terrible fights. He was against hiring a nanny to take care of HIS son. Once more I let go... for everyone's sake...except mine of course. His dark side was growing over me day after day. Very subtle changes as his religious beliefs were starting to ooze and change the exchanges in our couple."

"Nevertheless, my Dad convinced me to register for correspondence courses...which I did...in secrecy. Studying while Luca was sleeping or at the week-ends when Yasim was away was tiring but I had started to enjoy simply learning, you know? It appeared that this kind of tiredness was nothing compared to the energy I was spending hiding from Yasim. I hated that so much! How I wished I could share that with him. Why couldn't he understand why it was so important to me? It was not my idea of marriage or simply...love. His idea of the marriage were: he was the chief of the family, I was the wife. He decided and I was taking care of the members of the family. And that was all. If he said no, there was no point trying to make him change his mind. I had to comply. And complied I did. Many times. Too often. That's sad to say the truth is it was my entire fault. I never openly stood up for my opinions. Never had courage or worst... the will. Our relationship started to be always on the brink. The frontier between what I could do and couldn't was always narrowing. That was a scary feeling, not knowing how he would react if I chose to take an initiative.

A few days before the next millennium 2000, I received my diploma. It was the first time I was proud of me. I mean REALLY proud of myself. Of course I was proud to have brought Luca to this world but it was so different! I had made my proofs. Not as Yasim's wife or Luca's mother! As myself. Finally I decided to take the bull by the horns and, one night, after...hum...when he was relaxed and available...I pulled out the diploma. Mama mia!" I winced at the memory. "It was as if I had told him that I was asking for divorce... He entered in one of those black angers...The neighbours must remember that night even after all these years! He tore up the diploma and...hum...lost it. He didn't manhandle me, in the strict sense of it... but he...hum...made himself clear: I would never ask him to work. Ever. Had to swear...on Luca's head. Finally the things between us got better again and I put that under the account of his stressful job... I was so weak! Luca started pre-elementary school, I started cross-stitching..."

Terry leaned and gently touched my cheek with his knuckles. When I turned to look at him, he traced butterfly kisses from my forehead to my mouth. He spoke against my lips "I'm so proud of you too... You did well..." He slowly captured my lips, kissing me in the tenderest manner. It was the first time that we were touching each other intimately since this terrible night at my apartment. It felt so right. As if I belonged again. Not in a "you-own-me" manner. But in a totally free manner: I choose you. Did Terry felt the same? I don't know. But at this instant his tongue entered my mouth and I let him in. We kissed for several minutes; pushing our tongues in and out each other's mouths but we didn't touch the other's body. We both knew it wasn't the time yet. I wanted Terry to know what I had lived; it had stayed between us too damn long. Now that I had started talking I couldn't stop anymore. It was now. It was here. It was us.

He pulled me toward him, his arm stretched over my shoulders, taking me in a tight embrace. I let my arms go round him and rest on his back. With my cheek near his heart, I could feel his heart beat like drum. Boum-boum. Boum-boum. Boum-boum. So steady. So regular. So alive. Terry was holding me like a treasure. He was real. It gave me strength to go on: "Hadi, Yasim's father, died of a sudden heart attack in February 2001. He was 66 years old. Yasim was crushed with pain; I did my best to support him. We rushed to Algiers. And when I say rush, it's rush. His father died during the night and Yasim, Luca and I took the first flight of the morning to Algiers. You see, in the Muslim religion, a dead body must be buried the same day he or she dies. So, as soon as we arrived, the last burials preparations took place and Hadi was buried at 4 the afternoon. These rituals were beautiful yet very strange through my Occidental eyes. It was so different from how we treated our dead in our society! Luca who had not yet reached the age of 7 was allowed to stay with me and all the women that had gathered in my step-mother's house. The men were in a neighbour's house, just a few meters away, grieving on their own side. We didn't go out in almost a week, living in community and going through the rituals. Luca was taken care of by family's friends and I was taking care of Gabrielle. She was...broken with pain... it was terrible to witness. During these endless days where I could only understand a few the basic words, all these women around me...talking...I hid inside myself. And questions were turning and turning in my head "If Yasim dies, will I feel pain? Will I grieve him? Will I miss him only a little?" The answer was evident: I would miss him as the father of my child but I wouldn't grieve the husband. Isn't that a terrible thing to think?"

"The eternal city was still the same when we came back a week after the funerals. But I had profoundly changed. I felt that life was more than what I was living. I wanted more. So much more... When Yasim was home, which was always very late in the evening, he would spend most of his night on the phone or on the computer, taking care of his business which had grown and was about to enter the Stock Exchange. He was also taking care of many concrete details regarding his family in Algeria. He was now entirely responsible for his mother who, in the Islamic laws, had to ask his permission about everything. Even the domestic matters... When he would come to bed, he would tell me how much he loved me and that everything would get better soon. That he was deeply affected by this father's death and that I had to let him time to recover. That he would sell all his shares to his cousin once the business would be launched and we would have more time together to travel during the week-ends like two lovers. I was still attracted to him, you know, and I wanted so desperately to believe that the things could change between us. "

On the far wall a beautiful painting was hanged and it's there that my gaze had been focused on the last minutes. It was a bouquet of roses in an antique vase. Simple. Beautiful. From my point of view I noticed that the painter had used at least 20 different tones of reds for the roses. I wished I could see the world through the painter's eyes for just one day. How wonderful the world should be...

Terry sensed that my mind had drifted off. Leaning he asked me to close my eyes for a few seconds until he would come back. I nodded and did as told, the painting still clear enough in my mind to cling to when another part of my brain was starting to deal less and less well with the memories which were surfacing... Several flashes behind my closed eyes made me jump in surprise. My mind was trying everything it could to stop me from letting these ugly thoughts out. Certainly a defence mechanism. Everything was different, I told to myself. Now I had a reason to live and to fight for. It was worth it.

Terry came back to me and took my hand to lead me toward his impromptu little surprise. When he let open my eyes I was inside the bathroom. The blinds had been pushed down to darken the room as much as possible from the midday sun, several candles perfumed with jasmine had been lit and the tub was full of water on which light flower petals of were floating. He was naked, his golden skin licked by the candlelight. Without a word, he tenderly undressed me and helped me to get inside the tub and joined me. He made me lean my back against his torso, enwrapping me with his arms and his legs.

Since I started to talk he hadn't said much. Only encouraging me when needed. On the contrary his physical presence had been speaking volumes. The more I was getting to the point, the more his touch on my body had been intent and obvious. He wanted to keep my mind here with him in order to avoid as much as possible to re-live that terrible events. The fact that he knew what to do to control my stress gave me the last push to finish and get over that period. Because I knew that were there was light blackness yielded. Shame and guilt will be swept away by the love that Terry and I were sharing.

"The next June we flew there for a few days' vacation. The moment I willingly set foot on the Algeria soil my fate was sealed. This was what my father had always feared....and warned me about. There is this saying "you are always wiser AFTER". The signs had been just before my eyes all along and I hadn't seen them. But I didn't know the real reason. It is finally when Gabrielle and I could talk alone for a few minutes that everything became clear. Luca was about to be 7 years old. In the Muslim religion, it is the exact moment when the child is separated from the mother and starts receiving a proper religious education. Gabrielle had known that Yasim was preparing his definitive come back to Algeria but she had received threats from her son and her close family not to tell me anything. That's why she never dared warn me. She tried to smooth the situation by telling me that I would get used to the way of life in there and that her son was a good man and that he wouldn't allow anything bad to happen to me. But neither she nor I could imagine how Yasim had changed these last years. Under the influence of his uncle's four sons he had become a practicing Muslim and had adhered to their beliefs and traditions. All his absences had been spent taking Koran lessons and attending prayers. He had planned everything... I hadn't stood a chance."

"The first thing that Yasim did when we arrived at Gabrielle's house was to take my passport and burn it. He then told me how I had to behave in order to become an Algerian wife: I had to stay secluded in Gabrielle's house which was our new home and never ever go out without him or the presence of a male of the family. That I had to obey and take care of him like any virtuous wife would do. His voice... like steel announcing with delight that the life I had known until then was over. It was his rules or I would receive the treatment I deserved. He was enjoying this, the bastard. He had gotten me where he wanted."

"I didn't try to escape. The main doors were locked; the windows had steel bars to prevent the burglars...or to keep me from jumping; it depends from your point of view. And where could I go without any passport? We couldn't leave the country and as long as we stayed in Algeria, Yasim could very easily find us and then... I was cut off from the world and unable to even contact my father who was certainly beside his mind with worry. But Luca and I were together. It was all I needed to accept the kind of life Yasim had chosen for me. My Luca. My poor Luca. He acted like a tough little man when his father was around but as soon as Yasim had left, he would crawl into my arms and would weep like the child he was. He was telling me about the school, the teachers and...the caning he would receive in case of a wrong answer in Arabic. During the end of the afternoon until the dinner it was our moment. I would sing to him funny songs that I recalled, invent stories of Batman, his favourite super hero, how he would fight for justice and help the weak or the imaginary things we would be doing if we were still in Rome, like going to the park, watching a movie or eating the chocolate gelato he loved so much on the way back from his school..."

"In the meanwhile, I was tending to the scratches he had gotten in the schoolyard when some kid would have insulted me and that he would have fought for my honour. He was like this, my Luca. He could take every insult directed toward his person...but not toward me. I told him many times that he didn't need to fight for me. That the boys were only saying this to push him into a fight and then he would get punished by the teachers because he would be denounced as the one who started it by the majority of the boys. You know kids...and how cruel they can be when someone is different from them... I explained to him that their insults were coming from their lack of knowledge and fear of the people who weren't like them. I begged him many times not to listen, to let go because it wasn't important. He wouldn't change his mind. "I must protect you, Maman. A man must protect his mother. No matter what. It's a question of principle. Nobody has the right to call you names..."

So, it's how we spent the few hours that we were allowed to each day. It was all I was living for. From the moment he left in the evening to go sleep in the men's part of the house to the next afternoon. For Luca I could bear everything: the loss of freedom, the solitude...even Yasim's touch when his physical needs overcame his disgust of me..."

For a moment, I fought against the irrepressible feeling to throw up like I had done each time after Yasim's visits in my bed. Both hands on my mouth, I deeply breathed, letting Terry's gentle touch bring me back to present. Oh my God... those moments... pushed in a dark corner of my mind where they weren't hurting me anymore. Nothing would stop me now that the process of putting light were darkness reigned was on its way. I knew that Terry's love could destroy these memories of the most shameful times of my existence...

"July arrived together with a heat wave that Algeria hadn't faced in more than 30 years. Secluded in the house, Gabrielle and I were moving from room to room to find the some freshness. It's all I can remember from the first 10 days of that dreadful month. And the fact that Luca seemed to change in an odd way. He was closing himself up, not wanting to talk about his day or simply keeping me from touching him the way a mother does. Something was up. Luca didn't know what was going on and neither did I. It always amazes me how children can pick up the vibes around them and understand in their own way that a something important is about to happen... Sensing his distress, I tried to talk to him, telling him that everything would be OK and that I would try to make Yasim change his mind about the school. That there was a very good French school in Algiers and that I would agree that Luca would receive a religious education after the courses. Why did I lie to my son like that? I perfectly knew that Yasim wouldn't change his mind. Ever. That I had absolutely no weight at all to make him bent to my will. That I was as trapped as my son and there was nothing I could do against it. I did lie nevertheless. Anything to remove the fear in his eyes if only for a few moments. Luca finally let me hug him and I whispered sweet nothings to his ear while I kissed his cheek tenderly. His smell... I would recognize his smell among a thousand boys even blindfolded. It's a part of me, it runs into me... Anyway Yasim arrived on Sunday night, just after Luca had left to go sleeping. He announced me that Luca had been admitted to attend a prestigious Muslim school and will receive the best education a man could ever dream for his boy. That he was to be handed to teachers who were the true possessors of the Knowledge. And it was beginning the next day. I finally understood that Luca wouldn't live with us anymore from now on. "

"The truth was Yasim was definitely separating me from my son. Oh...you should have seen me... I acted like a lioness which cub was in danger:  I went to Yasim and hit him straight in the face with my closed fist. Furry was blinding me. I hit and hit again. He was so stunned by my reaction! Sure he had thought I would burst into tears and collapse at his feet. He received several punches before he made the first move to stop me. He grabbed my arms and twisted them behind my back, sure that unable to move I would calm down. I was still insulting him with all the meanest words of French and Italian that I knew, spitting all the saliva I could get and frantically trying to escape from his grip...!"

At the memory of those words I felt my whole body blush. I had never used those expressions again and certainly never will. Each of them was hitting in the middle of the target: Yasim's masculine pride. Where it was hurting the most I knew.

"He couldn't stop me, my long time repressed fighting instincts which Yasim had thought tamed at his contact were unleashed. I felt wild. Paradoxically, I felt free. Yasim had imagined that taking my son from me would break me definitively. He was wrong. So wrong... I could kill to protect Luca. He was just discovering what I was capable of. He had chosen this very night to let his mask fall. And in more than in one aspect. For my disrespectful behaviour, he beat me with his belt and when his arm felt numb and that I wasn't moving anymore he threw me on the bed, tied my hands behind my back and linked the ties with the one of my feet. He left but not before he chose to gag me. It was the touch of a wet dishcloth on my forehead that woke me a few hours later. Gabrielle, although she had been said to leave me alone, stayed beside me without a word during the night, her hand gently stroking my hair while I was weeping from pain. In the morning Gabrielle had disappeared. And I found Djamel standing beside the bed. One of Yasim's cousins. This man had always scarred me. Even I never had any particular reason to that because he had always treated me with respect. But it was his eyes... oh my god...his eyes. They gave me nightmares for months. I don't know how to explain that. They were filled with a mixture of madness, fanaticism and malevolence. When he was looking at me I had felt uneasy, like a bug he wanted to eradicate."

"He bent and while he whispered in my ear how much he was enjoying the sight of me, so helpless and at his mercy, his hand was twisting my breasts painfully. His breath was coming with rasps as he was rubbing his lower abdomen against my back... I couldn't shout, couldn't move. He was abusing me and no one in this house was about make a single move to rescue me. When his hand touched my pubis I whimpered and he crudely laughed and called me a bitch, sure that I was enjoying his touch.  I have no idea why he stopped, maybe it was a noise that Gabrielle made or something outside in the street but he left the bedroom swiftly, locking the door behind him. I cried in relief and anger until I had no more tears. The bonds were biting my skin painfully but the worst were my arms and legs that I couldn't feel anymore because of the lack of blood circulation. Yasim came back at the end of the morning. But before untying me he took his time, the bastard. He tried to soothe me, explaining to me that I had deserved the punishment and that it was his duty as the chief of the family to do so each time I would lack respect to anyone. So I did what any intelligent person would do: I behaved."

"My plan was simple, allay any suspicion that Yasim might have about my sudden complying behaviour, get as much information as possible on where Luca was staying, his schedules and habits and then to contact the French embassy in Algiers which would help me get my son back and then we would fly in the sunset, happy and free together. God....I thought I was so clever. It went well until I tried to contact the embassy after I had gathered all the needed information for Luca's retrieving...I had met a doctor who was treating me for unimportant health problems during my first stays in Algeria. He was German and a great lover of the French language. We had shared nice moments during the consultations and he had appeared like a man to be trusted. "

The water of the bath was cold and I only noticed it when Terry bent to open the taps and add some hot water before we both caught flu. With the adjunction of the liquid, the jasmine soap re-started to make bubbles and I looked at them popping and doing so, bringing perfumed scents to our nose. A bath... how had I longed for one while being held captive! The quantity of the water was holding in a bucket the rare times I could wash myself. What a luxury it was to soak for hours in a scented debauchery!

My lover stood up and came to sit in front of me. Without having to voice it, he had understood that it was the moment where another dimension had to be added: visual contact. Because even if physical contact had been necessary and wanted until now, only his eyes on me could be my anchor for what I had to tell him to get through with it. I weakly smiled at him before leaning back and allowing the water submerge me. Enveloped in the soft and hot liquid, I closed my eyes and asked for strength to talk about the events which would certainly deeply sadden Terry but also help him better understand why and how I became the person I was now. There're always two sides on a medal. One negative. One positive. This is my true belief. Maybe it is only an illusion, maybe I did receive what I had asked for, who cares, but when I broke the surface of the water, it was peace and trust that was filling my heart, my head and my soul. Light on darkness, trust on humiliation, love on loss, tenderness on pain. Terry had brought all this in my life. And so much more.

His legs brushed mine sensuously and made me focus on the wonderful man in front of me once again. His eyes set on mine; he took my hand and held it with vigour before releasing some of the pressure. He was ready. So was I.

"So I went to see the doctor accompanied by another cousin of Yasim, Hassan. He had already taken me there several times and it was usual that he stayed in the examination room with us...you know... a woman shouldn't stay alone with someone external to the family... But this time, I had planned an intimate examination to be able to tell my doctor about Luca's unbearable situation, to explain my plan and beg him to be the intermediary in order to help me leave the country with my son. This doctor, Herr Burkhart Hoffmann, was in his mid-fifties and a good general practitioner. The reasons why such a talented doctor had buried himself in this country seemed odd. He didn't appear to be the European person touched by the distress of the human race who suddenly chose to dedicate himself to a cause, like helping fighting against malaria, hunger or AIDS. No. He was mixing with expatriates and attending the parties they were organizing in order to keep the feeling they weren't lost alone on the African continent. Nothing thrilling for a man of this potential. I learned a few months later, when I had felt the need to understand why he had turned me in to Yasim, that he had been a very successful surgeon in Köln until a regrettable medical error put an end to his career. So I was the perfect opportunity this man was waiting for. With Yasim's benediction, a wealthy and well respected man in the Algerian society, Dr. Hoffmann quickly got all the needed authorizations to open a surgical clinic in a rich part of Algiers. Yasim never had any trouble using all the aspects of Western and Islamic civilisations that would arrange him or his business. Using every situation, every person at his advantage. There's nothing more cynical on earth than that, I think. Of course I didn't know that instead of keeping his promise to call the embassy straight away, he called Yasim and proposed a deal. Hassan dropped me at home and left immediately. I was so relieved that Hoffmann had given me his word to help us... I tried to be very careful to act normal and not show the excitation that was boiling inside me. I had found a way. Everything was going to be OK, I would get Luca and flee ... Harder would be the fall..." 

"Yasim arrived very late in the evening with two of his cousins. I was immediately alerted by Djamel's nasty look and Hassan's nervousness. Yasim's unhooking of his belt was the signal. I tried to escape. I really did. This time he didn't beat me... no... He had added several holes closer to the buckle. While Djamel and Hassan where holding me and tying me hands behind my back, Yasim attached his belt tightly to my throat. Not only it was strangling me but the buckle was also cutting my throat. It was so painful I nearly fainted on the spot. They dragged me to the basement... Djamel started to beat me. After each stroke, Yasim was yanking on the belt to make me stand up again. He even tightened the belt to the next hole... His eyes were so cold on me. Not a single word escaped his mouth. Djamel though was finding another Arabic insult each time he was hitting me. As for Hassan, he was sitting in a far corner, avoiding looking at what was going on. Djamel called him to come and have a little fun... Hassan first seemed reluctant and was almost looking sick but he did what he was told by his older brother. His punches were restrained but after a few encouragements from Djamel... it changed and then... I lost consciousness. When I woke up, they had left...my hands were cuffed to a rail... the pain...oh...the pain..."

My free hand went to my throat and rubbed the little mark that I got since that day. "Let's go out of that water before our skins make us look like 90 years old grand-parents..." He tried to use a light tone but his eyes were betraying the turmoil that was tearing him up inside. The softness of the bathrobe which had been heated on the towel radiator felt so good on my skin. Terry had thought about it. Terry was this kind of man. A man who thinks beyond. For the other's comfort. No other man had ever cared for me like that...This sweet detail consoled me. The right man, the right place, the right moment. We quietly lay on the bed facing each other. Just a few minutes and it will be over... We would then be free from what had been between us: a wall of fears, omissions and shame.

"I drifted on and off in a delirious state for many hours. It was so hot in there...thirst was unbearable... And then the final blow... worst than any manhandling: Yasim came back alone, holding something in his hand. His attitude was so detached, this was surreal. He didn't excuse himself nor gave me this speech about how I had to accept my fate and let Luca receive the best education. No. He calmly sat beside me and grabbed my neck, tilting it toward the screen of a digital video camera... My heart lurched. It was my son...sitting on a carpet, intently listening to an old man who was talking in Arab. I understood two words: mother and shame. He was asking questions to which Luca was replying carefully in the same language. Luca had changed so much in a week! He seemed another boy. His hairs were cut so short that he looked bald. He had always been so proud of his curly hair! His face was dirty and I noticed that he had cried because his cheeks were streaked. And his eyes... full of fear and sadness. The old man who had been standing in front of Luca pulled a cane and without a warning started to beat him. I shouted in horror and Yasim forced me to watch everything. Before my eyes, Luca fell flat on his stomach and protected his head with his hands. He even folded his fingers to protect them from the blows... Each time he was hit I would jump. His pain was my pain. It was atrocious to witness his little form laying on the carpet and not moving, waiting for the blows to stop. It was my fault. You know, nothing destroys more than guilt. Nothing. I could take a hundred of these blows but only one on my baby was too much to bear....A part of me died at this moment. I've never been the same anymore since then..."

I burst into tears, all the guilt and pain pouring outside my body as if a dam had been blown up by this simple statement. Yes, I had failed my son by handing him to a torturer who was ready to harm his own flesh and blood in order to punish the mother. I had kept myself for so long... From my dad. From my best friend Stéphanie. And especially from Terry. I had thought it was a way of protecting them from useless suffering. My belief was when you share pain and fear that is poisoning your body and weighting on your soul, it isn't cut in half. It stays whole. So why bother the others with it? But I now realise that it had also been a way of keeping all the pain for me. Of staying locked with my distress and guilt to punish myself. I didn't want people to tell me that what I had lived was horrible and that Yasim was the true responsible for harming Luca. I wanted to suffer because it seemed unbearable to know that Luca was still in his father's clutches and that I was free, having a new life far away from Algeria. I was safe. I was loving and loved in return.

Terry took me against his body and held me tightly while I sobbed. "I understand, Gaia. I really do. But there's one thing that you got wrong: you're not responsible for what Yasim did to Luca. Do you hear me?" His shaking hand came to rest on my cheek. Our eyes locked. Do you believe me if I tell you that in a split of second I saw his soul through his eyes? He bared it and let me see his true colours. "There's nothing to be ashamed of. I'm sure you did everything you could for Luca. Everything possible anyway. You took great risks and paid the price dearly. Yasim is the one who failed Luca. No one else. But Yasim also failed you, don't you forget that. He used the love you shared as a mother and as a son to achieve his own goals. And this is wrong... bloody wrong" I nodded, half convinced. If only I had seen the signs, if only I had stayed in Rome, if only...

If only... The French have a saying "With "ifs" you could put Paris in a bottle". How true. But it's only human to think about what might have changed in your life if you had made a different choice at crossroad. Regrets were eating me alive. That's why I had decided to develop that belief: this hadn't been in vain. And the reasons were Luca and Terry. How could I ever regret to have brought to life my son and have met my other half of the orange?

"Still gripping my neck he forced me to bend in the limit of what the cuffs allowed me. And then he talked. The tone of his voice... implacable and soft at the same time. I thought I could almost feel tenderness oozing... or was it pleasure to humiliate me like that? I still don't know today. But if it was affection when his wife, the person he had promised to take care of and cherish in the good and bad times was reduced to a piece of flesh and whose only given right is to breathe, how sick is that? His fingers were delicately caressing my scalp as my arms were stretched at their maximum behind my back. A shove and they would probably have broken. He said that each time he would come to see me I would bend in submission, avoid direct contact with his eyes and not speak before I would be asked to. If by all means I would make or say something that would displease him, Luca would receive the same treatment I had just witnessed in the hour...and..."

Other images of Yasim in the basement flashed in my brain but I deliberately chose not to mention them to Terry. Not all details were appropriate to be shared and could only be water on oil: they would fuel his anger pointlessly. I needed him to help me turn this page of my life definitively.

"I was kept in the basement for several days. I don't know how long though. Could have been 3 days or a week, it's hard to tell. It was dark and I was drifting on and off, you know, trying to avoid the physical pain of the bruises and the sight of Luca on the ground that a conscious state brings. Food and water were brought once a day by Hassan or Djamel... together with further humiliations. I did what I was told in order to survive. And I survived. So did the shame of those moments. It's still printed here". I touched my head and sighted. His hand came to rest on my heart. What a delicate gesture...

His body tensed. Strong emotions crossed his eyes and asked the question before his mouth: "Were you...?"

I shook my head and sadly smiled while holding his hand on my heart. "No. You see, Nature is sometimes kind: after a few hours in the basement, I had started to bleed; you know...my period. The Koran is very strict about it: when a woman has her menses, she's impure and thus shouldn't be touched in a sexual manner. Only I already had it 2 weeks before...my body protected me. Nothing else would have kept them from me. Nothing..."

It was necessary to avoid those details with him as much as possible. Because even if they couldn't have touched me sexually at that time, there's other ways that men can come up with when they want to humiliate a woman. Changing rapidly the subject I went on for what would be the end of my tale. "...when I was alone, my mind was wandering, creating beautiful dreams full of bright colours and laughter, giving me all the sensations of floating  in a pool of comfort and peace... it's incredible what a mind can also do to protect you from both physical and mental pain... The last dream in the basement... it's still so vivid in my mind. Luca and I were walking hand in hand a field of peonies.... "

 "...your favourite flower..." He remembered....

"Hum hum....and Luca first word after Mama and Papa was "pivoine". Peony in French. But that's another story... So it was this dream with us walking quietly in the garden when suddenly Luca turned to me, made me bent to his level and took my face between his little hands. "Maman, tu sais combien je t'aime..." he said to me, his eyes roaming on my face as if to burn every detail inside his head. "Je t'aimerai aussi longtemps qu'il y aura des oiseaux dans le ciel et des abeilles pour butiner les fleurs... " Dark clouds were gathering above my head, quickly invading the sky...a storm was coming. The thunder was advancing toward us. Putting my hands on his, I said on the same serious tone he had used: "Tu es le soleil de mes jours, la lune de mes nuits. Je t'aimerai aussi longtemps que le soleil se lèvera le matin et que la lune tournera autour de la Terre... "  And then a strong wind started to blow. So strong that I felt myself lift up in the sky. Luca was watching me in horror, trying to hold me with all his strength while I was being pulled up. A terrible pain ripped me two...and our hands lost contact. I could see him becoming smaller and smaller as I was swallowed up by the sky. Then sudden ball of fire came down on me, burning my hands mercilessly, my face and my feet. I was moving frantically trying to put out the fire..."

His eyes were moving very fast in his eyeballs and I knew that he had understood what had been happening: I was being retrieved from Yasim's house. But there was a problem. As a man used to deal with the meanders of the diplomatic world, Terry knew that the French government wouldn't take any risk of quarrelling with Algeria over a woman who had freely put foot on their soil. Their relationship was tiny and fragile and most needed from both countries to pursue the lucrative economic exchange that had taken so many years to develop. France needed the low cost of labour that this ex-colony could provide without any fear that the well would dry up one day because 75% of the Algerian population was less than 25 years old. As for Algeria the foreign currencies that France was injecting in various industries was a financial basket that would help them to quickly increase their gross national product and thus become a Northern African nation that would need to be taken into account in the international negotiations.

Terry suddenly stood up and started to pace around the bedroom as if he needed to put some distance with me as his mind was racing to find a coherent solution to the problem that my saying raised. "But... who took the risk to rescue you? They surely couldn't take the risk to be linked in any way to the French army!"

"They weren't linked to the French army because they were not in the official army of my country. This team worked... freelance..."

Stopping by the French window and looking outside absentmindedly, he touched his left brow, a sure sign of his inner nervousness as he was taking all the knowledge of my escape in. He had previously presumed that I had fled by my own means...and apparently wasn't too thrilled to discover the implications that a military operation might mean...

"Your Dad gave the go ahead for your rescue... with all his connexions in the diplomatic world he was the only person able to organize a military operation to get you out of Algeria... " I knew he would guess that by himself. Only one more name and he would understand the whole thing.

"My Dad didn't use his diplomatic connections. He went to an old acquaintance who had been his captain in Indochina... and who became a mercenary after the end of the war." It would be insulting Terry's intelligence to presume that he wouldn't recognise who I was speaking of. I waited for him to work out the mind challenge I had just threw at him.

After a few minutes of total silence, he turned toward me "Don't tell me it has anything to do with Bob Denard...?" The tone he used was between a snarl and a spit. In front of me was standing the distant and professional Terry, the experienced soldier who knew what strings to pull in order to get what you wanted.

"Yes, it was Denard." Denard was a well-known mercenary who had been used by the successive French governments in Africa for dirty jobs and when he had become an embarrassment for them after a missed attempt of a coup in the Comoros, he had been arrested and brought back to France. "But he couldn't actively participate in the operation..."

"...because he was in jail at this moment waiting for his trial. Wait a second! He was to recruit an Italian team? So it means that the suspicions of this Verona prosecutor... " There wasn't a lot that escaped his mind, I told myself.

"...Guido Papalia..." We were finishing each other's phrases. The truth was now like a stone rolling down a hill. Every piece of the puzzle was finally finding its place in Terry's mind.

"...were well founded. Denard tried to recruit an Italian team but failed. The Italians were arrested and trialled as mercenaries, a crime in most European countries..." He went on, now thinking as he spoke. "...I never understood why Denard was recruiting out loud or the arrests. It looked liked he fucked up big time. Denard might be a total head case but he's not the kind of man who screws up - or uses contacts he can't completely rely on. I know he's built a tight, solid and discreet network around himself over the years; every one of his boys would hand over their left nut before revealing even a tiny detail of an upcoming job. Especially if Denard was behind it. He's got a long arm and everyone close to him would know the consequences of betrayal...even locked up in a high security prison. Cross him and steel doors wouldn't save you....

"But nobody screwed up..."

"No?" He seemed surprised and immediately closed himself up to think further. A devilish smile lightened his face darkened by a three day beard. 

"How clever... Denard certainly had his own reasons to let justice catch up with those men.

"He did. But it's not Denard who had the idea of a set-up..."

"Your Dad... I must deeply bow in front of his brilliant mind and be sure I don't cross him in any circumstance... So he was behind the fall of the Italian team..."

"Denard was locked and helpless to do anything against the rumour which was spreading a few months before his trail: some witness for the prosecution was to bring proofs of Denard implication in the double assassination of President Abdallah and his body guard Jaffar in the Comoros in 1989."

The physical distance between Terry and I was killing me. I stood up from the bed and slowly walked toward him. Standing beside him I looked outside the windows the quiet hills surrounding the estate, waiting for Terry to go on.

"So they killed two birds with one stone..." He sounded bitter. "Denard eliminated his source of worry. The person who was killed during the arrest was the principal witness of Denard's trial, I presume... but I don't get why your father went into that much trouble for..."

"Dad knew it was the only a way to deal with Denard. To give him something that could balance the fact that Dad needed a team for a delicate mission. And the fact that the Italian team was sacrificed also helped his own business..."

"How come?"  His jaw tightened in reflex. 

"It is a close friend of Yasim who got wind of the creation of the Italian team. And showed a real eagerness to hand this information to someone who had all interests in the failing of the operation. Yasim. He was the one behind the fall of the team. He then thought that he had spoiled the plot that Dad had carefully built in order to get me out of Algeria. Only the other team, a French one this time, had already been chosen and was about to operate. All the success of the operation laid on the fact that Yasim had to be 100% sure that he had neutralized the team which was about to rescue me. He felt untouchable and became reckless. At this moment the French team kicked in..." Something was still bothering him and I couldn't put my finger on it. He knew now everything. So why was he still so tensed?

"What you don't know is when François Dumas handed me your file he told me about some links that might prove to be troublesome. First I had thought he was talking about Yasim. But I'm not so sure anymore. Dumas might know about your father's and Denard's cooperation and the two consequences that followed: the fall of the Italian team and the incursion of foreign military men on Algerian soil. If my supposition is correct it means that you're walking on a mine field, Gaia. One day, if this information falls between the wrong hands, someone will finally have the perfect weapon to get back at Denard or worse, at you through your father." With his arms now crossed behind his back he looked like a lesson giver and was slowly starting to get on my nerves with his critics. I chose not to act too wounded as I knew it came from a good feeling: he was worried about my safety. I carried on.

"At one point or another we all make decisions which can turn to be dangerous in the future, Terry. That's just the way it is and I now feel strong enough to face the consequences with him. Because I have you. You bring me so much. You have no idea...".

Terry didn't let go. "Your father shouldn't have gone to Denard. There were other ways. Many other ways. Denard has too many enemies who would jump on any given opportunity to take him down permanently."

"I will contact Dad to tell him about your suspicions, Terry. Although there is a slight possibility that you may be wrong. Now saying that Dad shouldn't have gone to Denard is easy for you. He chose the only option that could get me out of there the quickest. Mon amour, you are a father also... What you would do if each new day was a synonym for Henry of mental and physical tortures? Tell me...what would you be ready to do?" I leaned on him. He took his time before reluctantly answering. I already knew his answer. He unfolded his arms and took me into his embrace. Finally the last barriers between us were down. It seemed an eternity since I had felt this close to him.

"I would do anything. Anything."

"Exactly. It's what Dad did. Please don't blame him. He will face his responsibilities if needed, Terry. As I will face mine. With you if you agree to."

Under my hands, the muscles of his back relaxed. It was time for us to turn the page. We had reached a new level of understanding of each other. Our love would go out of this crisis renewed and reinforced, I knew it.

"I don't want anyone to harm you ever again, Gaia". It came out like a choke and the desperation that his voice carried touched me so much. I understood his feeling so well. One of the biggest difficulties in loving someone lay in the fact that you had to accept that you aren't powerful enough in this world to protect the other from his/her life's depravities. Terry knew that. And being the sensitive man he was to human distress, it was killing him that he couldn't promise me that I would never be harmed again. We had our own path in this life that we had to follow and it wasn't always as safe as I felt in his arms at this moment.

"I also don't want anyone to harm me, Terry". He smiled at my tentative of humour. The worry wasn't gone from his face but it lightened the mood somehow.

Firmly taking his hand in mine I dragged him toward the cupboard where my luggage was. "There's something I would like to show you." and pulled out a child's toy.

He looked at me, clearly puzzled by this rumpled bear. "It was Luca's doudou..." Putting it right under my nose, I took the definite smell of my son in.

"What is a "doudou"?" 

"I don't know the English name. It's something that a child drags everywhere with him. Un objet transitionnel. You know, to help cope with the mother's separation. First it had my smell on it because I had carried it on my skin for several days when Luca was two weeks old. In my bra. Just above my heart." Terry was looking at me with this little light that shows when he's about to tease me. But he didn't. He knows better than to tease a mother over her child! "Seems nuts, I know. It's what the magazines I bought at that time said anyway. And it worked, no matter what you think. It was the only thing that could calm him instantly. Henry didn't have one?"

Terry shook his head "Nope. Maybe that's why he cried to fall asleep his first 3 years... bloody got on my tits. Maybe his mother should have read other magazines than "Cosmopolitan" or "Garden Answer"... "

We smiled at each other. Complicity. How I had longed to share it again. He became serious and delicately took the doudou from my hands.

"How did you get it? Guess the guys didn't take it while you were rescued..."

"Of course not. They couldn't have lingered there. Especially for a doudou... They only had a 15 minutes window for the retrieval... No. The only things I had when I left Algeria were the rags that were left from the jilbab I had been wearing the last weeks and a jeans and a t-shirt that Dad had bought to change in the jet. And it's all I owned for many days. Yasim had sold our Roman apartment and gotten rid of all our things in the process. The pictures, the books and all the little souvenirs...nothing had been spared. It was as if I had dreamed my life. Nothing tangible was left to match my memories. It was so strange..."

I thought about the past necklace that Luca had offered me for a Mother's day. It was his first year at school. I remember it so well: the "penne" had been painted in white, blue and red, the colours of our country flag. Between the penne, pink and violet wood pearls were giving the artistic touch to the gift. I had worn it for many weeks to Yasim greatest distaste. Frankly I didn't care. It was made with such love and tenderness that I found it was the most beautiful necklace I owned. I thought about my first pair of expensive shoes, the rare copy of an ancient book on the beginning of fencing that Dad offered me after my first golden medal in an international competition. I also thought about the pictures of my son: his first bath, his first apple (which he hated), his birthdays surrounded with his best friends...

The dolphin collection that I had started had been a way of surrounding me with new and happy memories, filling my apartment with colourful and funny stuff which were not related to any person I had gotten to know. Like, this if anything happened my souvenirs wouldn't be connected with that person. It was neutral but a lot of fun.

"The doudou arrived by the diplomatic case during my recovery in a Parisian clinic..." Breathing softly, I set my eyes on Luca's bear. "...together with an explanation letter from Gabrielle. She was the one who had taken the risk to contact the French embassy in Algiers, Dad had told me during the repatriation. Her letter was so moving and heartbreaking... She was excusing herself for what had happened to my son and me. She was saying that Luca was alright for the moment and that she was doing her best to take care of him when he was returning home once a month. Despite the fact that Yasim had strictly forbidden them to ever talk French, she was disobeying because she thought it was primordial for her grand-son not to loose his mother tongue. It hurt so much, you know, hearing that Yasim was doing all he could to cut any the bounds that we once share with Luca. Gabrielle finished her letter with a few words about the certitude she had that one day we would be together again. That this very day Allah's justice would be applied. Knowing that there was now one kind soul watching over Luca somehow helped me finding a reason to live. And I desperately needed it, I can assure you. Gabrielle calls me once or twice a year...whenever she can find a safe place to call from. Each possible minute is then spent talking about the small man that Luca is becoming. He's about to turn 10 next Fall. I can't imagine that. My baby is about to turn 10... Not a boy anymore but not a man yet. I beg Gabrielle to tell him how much I miss him and that I love him more than the day before but less than the day after. After those call...I ...I... "

"I know... I know, baby..." When he took me in his arms this time I just let myself go. He felt my abandon and caught me as I felt the last sunray lightening the darkest and remote place of my soul.

"Terry, I'm sorry I've kept that from you all these months... It could have destroyed our love...the only thing that mattered to me. I'm sorry... I'm so sorry... This was so heavy...'

"Heavy? Yeah, well I do heavy very well as a matter of fact. Light...well, that's the one that gives me a few problems..." he smiled tenderly and put his hands on either side of my face, tilting up my chin. "This story is a really harrowing one. I wish for many reasons that I could say it's the worst I've ever heard. But it isn't. Stories like yours happen every day. I'd be out of work if they didn't. And many of them had happy endings because I facilitated them... Gaia... chérie... baby...I have done this for so many people in the past. People I did not even know. Laid my life on the line for the sake of their loved ones who were taken from them. All I want to do is make it right for you, like I made it right for those people. A mother should be with her son. There is no question of that. We have to go in and get Luca back..."

He paused to kiss my lips softly, his hands smoothing my hair and then holding me against him again, whispering into my ear. "Let me do this for you. Let me make it right. And know this... I know what I'm up against and if - when - I go in for Luca, I will make sure there will be no repercussions. You must not let that frighten you off. If I promise to safeguard you and Luca then that is exactly what I intend to do...Yasim may be a very dangerous man...but he has never met me. I am far more dangerous than anything he has ever dreamed..."

He gave me time to think about his words, caressing me, not hurrying or forcing anything from me that I was not ready to give.

"Gaia. I'm not asking you to make your mind up now. I'm asking you to tell me when you're ready. And from now on, I want no secrets between us. In the end, secrets drive lovers apart. I've lived my whole life guarding secrets of one form or another. Never revealing things that I should have done to the women in my life. Always keeping a distance. My heart firmly under wraps... I won't do it with you. I won't let you do it with me. This time, I want to get things right. But we both have to trust each other for that. Are you ready to trust me? Down the line? No one would blame you if you never trusted a man again..."

"I'm ready to trust you, Terry. I really am. To trust you with my life. And I will tell you when it is the time to get Luca... I promise".

Here we were.

Light had won over darkness.

Hope was pouring inside me like a warm liquid, seeping in every single leak that light had made visible, filling me with a new breath.

Hope. Such a wonderful word. 

Especially when it is brought to you in the features of the man you love.