Anders Takes a Lover

No one would have guessed that one day Anders would take a lover. Not even himself. Everything happened so fast. One day, he was married to the love of his life. The next, he was entangled in a lurid affair with whom he could only describe as the woman of his dreams, for only in dreams could he conceive of a creature so heartbreakingly feminine and alluring while remaining deliriously carnal at every turn. Even her name, Katarina, sent electric shivers through every inch of his being.

She made him remember what it was to be a man. She brought him to such heights of ecstasy that he thought he might die of yearning if he were ever made to go without the affections she showed him night after night. Their affair was one of excesses and pleasures. He endeavored to enjoy it all in secret, but there came a day when his mates at the office could no longer resist goading him about the Rorschach patterning of love bites peeking from beneath his shirt collar. His discretion was easily overpowered by his pride. 

He told them everything: of the long nights of lust, of her tireless desires, of his newfound youth. He flushed red when questioned how he had met his new lover. He hated to admit that he couldn’t remember. What did it matter, he thought. He saw the doubting glances passed amongst his audience. Some of his younger colleagues refused to believe him. How could boring, middle-aged, and inarguably out-of-shape Anders attract a woman, let alone the one he described?

Embittered by their teasing, he showed them the passion-filled photos he kept on his phone of Katarina and himself. Anders basked in their silence. He reveled in watching the jealous expressions of disgust wear heavy upon their confused faces. He would never again be subjected to their harassment. The matter was resolved, he thought, or at least they kept their petty skepticisms to themselves. 

His wife, Marcia, soon found out the truth as well. Her sorrow was to be expected, manifesting itself as many painful hours of shouting and tears. When pressed as to what had possessed him to destroy the life they had built together, he offered no explanation. The thought had never crossed his mind. Her tear-choked sobs tore at his heart, but he needed only to close his eyes and the memories of Katarina’s laughter would erase all his woes.

With her heart broken in two, Marcia did as any wife might and left her husband of twenty-three years. As if he had a choice in the matter, Anders gave her the house in hopes that the children might live as normal a life as possible in her custody. Any remorse or regrets were eclipsed by the thrill of his new life, where every second could be spent in the loving embrace of Katarina. Her love was all he would ever need.

He moved his few remaining possessions into a single-room apartment. The new living space was a far cry from the comfort he had known in his previous life. The plaster of every wall was cracked, and the single pane windows let in the cold as well as the constant hum of the nearby freeway. The neighborhood’s reputation for crime was concerning. He warned Katarina about his fears for her safety. All she did was laugh, saying that she found his protective side attractive before ravishing him once more in the bleak darkness of his apartment.

Sex took the place of all his worries. It was as necessary as breathing. Katarina was ever happy to oblige. Their lovemaking was endless. Whole nights would disappear from memory as they coupled with an intensity he could never have imagined, even in his youth. Her appetite exhausted him. When he tried to remind her that he hadn’t the stamina to keep up with her vigor, she would laugh, drawing him further into her embrace and leaving him begging for more.

She was his everything. His every waking thought was of her. In her absence, he would spend hours with his eyes closed, remembering the scent of her jet-black hair, damp with sweat, and the salty taste of her milky white skin. He drifted ever further from the life he once had. He had missed the supervised visits with his children. He would call to apologize for his forgetfulness, swearing to make things right, but eventually his phone calls went unanswered. His work began to suffer as well. After showing up late for the umpteenth time, he was fired without sympathy.

Head hanging low, he trudged home. What would he tell Katarina? Surely, she would be ashamed of him. Would she think him a failure? Would she leave just like Marcia? He thought about hiding his job loss from her, but the thought made his stomach convulse painfully. Even in defeat she was his obsession. He couldn’t bear to lie to her. No, he resigned, if I am to remain true to anyone, it must be to her.

While walking the many miles from the office to his decrepit abode, he caught sight of himself in a restaurant window. The gaunt reflection of an impossibly exhausted-looking man stared back at him. Sallow skin sagged from his cheek bones, giving a sunken appearance to his features. The sight of his red-rimmed eyes sickened him. How long had it been since he had seen himself? 

He plodded onward. His feet were rubbed raw from hours of walking in dress shoes. All he wanted was to be home—home with her. She would ease his pain. She would make all his fears and doubts vanish with a smile. She never cared about his shortcomings. She didn’t care about his ex-wife or his awful apartment. His age, his gut, his baldness—none of it mattered to her. She loved him, he knew, but he couldn’t explain why.

Her sole decree was that he loved her as much as she loved him. For that, he would ensure that her cup was ever overflowing with adoration. He would worship the ground she walked on. All she needed to do was ask, and he would sacrifice body, blood, and soul to be at her side. To him, she was more than a lover—she was a goddess made flesh. Who was he to have ever doubted her love?

Entangled with thoughts of her, Anders hadn’t noticed he had crossed the boundaries of his neighborhood. Ordinarily he might have tried to pay attention to his surroundings. He was only a few blocks from his home when the sky exploded into a sea of blinding pain. Everything went black. When he eventually came around, he was left with nothing but the clothes on his back and the keys to his apartment.

On hands and knees, he took heavy, shuddering breaths. Blood dripped into his eyes, turning the world a sickly red. The realization that he had been attacked sent shockwaves of pain emanating from the back of his head and exiting through his mouth. He touched the tender flesh swelling at the back of his scalp with trembling fingers. His probing tongue told him he had lost several teeth. The thieves had left him with nothing but pain. 

After much effort, he brought himself to standing. His body was wracked with pain. He sobbed uncontrollably, knowing what his life had become. In less than three months’ time, he had lost everything. His marriage to a loving wife, the children he had adored, a well-built home filled with warmth and safety. A fulfilling career built over many years. All of it gone. Now, he was destitute and facing hunger with no hope in sight. And for what? A woman? The best woman, he told himself. She was his everything, but for the first time he wondered why.

He entered his building to find the elevator out of commission. Too preoccupied to care, he dragged himself up the many flights of stairs to his door. He ignored the pain emanating through his body. Katarina was all that he could think of. He had sacrificed everything for her, but what had she given him besides love? Was it indeed love, or rather sex, pure and primal? If she loved him as he loved her, why then didn’t he know anything about her?

“Who is she?” The words escaped his cracked and broken lips. He hadn’t a clue about her last name, where she lived, or who her parents were. Did she have a family or friends? Where did she work? None of the questions had answers. Most troubling of all, Anders couldn’t remember how they had met in the first place. An undeniable fear of who she might be grew inside his chest. Fear that she might not be anybody at all.  

His fingers went numb as he slid his key into the lock. The prospect of finding her waiting on his bed, her scarlet red lips smiling back at him, sent waves of anguish throughout his body. He opened the door slowly, praying that she wouldn’t be there. To his relief and aching dismay, she was nowhere in sight. Dropping his keys in the middle of the room, Anders stood staring into the mirror hanging from his bathroom door. 

This could not be him. How could it be? The image before him was a grotesque caricature fashioned to appear as a corpse. His graying skin and broken teeth only served to further the notion that he was nearly dying. He watched his face contort before shattering the glass with a bony fist, sending jagged shards of glass clattering to the floor. A new pain radiated from his silver-studded knuckles.

He sank to the floor, watching the crimson rivulets seep out from the cuts on the back of his hand. His mind was flooded with memories of all that he had been, of all he once had, and dreams of the future he knew he would never get. He wept tears of guilt and agony while tearing at his clothes with claw-like hands. His shirt and pants felt suffocating, as if they too wished to steal away a little more of whatever life he still had left. 

Strangled and breathless, he fought to get free of his clothing, smearing blood across himself. He cried out for someone, anyone, to take him away from his torment. He froze at the sound of keys jangling near his door. Too weak to move, Anders lay still. He held his eyes shut and listened to the clicking of heels coming toward where he lay curled in a ball.

“You shouldn’t hide from me, my love,” she said, her voice exuding seductive venom. He tried to look away from her, but he was powerless. He couldn’t resist her, and he hated himself for it.

“I don't want you to see me like this,” he said, peeking through palsied fingers. Her pouting mouth seemed to mock him as she knelt to pull his hands away from his face. Her eyes landed first on his battered head, then onto his bloodied hands. A smirk crossed her face as she traced her fingers across his swollen lips.

“What are you?” he asked, barely able to choke out the words. Something flickered behind her taunting eyes. Her breath reeked of rotten meat. She slid her fingers past his broken teeth, stopping when she met the back of his throat. Her smile grew wide enough to swallow him whole.

“None of that makes a difference, Anders.” Her nails dug into his tongue as she tightened her grip. “Just love me now—while you can.”