Wild Stars Seeking Midnight Suns Read Online Free Page A

cozy, and things just happen. But Futila wasn’t smiling; that took the “cozy” out. So the intimate moments became fewer. And Time was passing by.
    But she loved Dante and there was no her without him. Life was a zero. No party or gathering was fun. No holiday dreams were made. They seldom made love anymore. She had to play with him while he slept, then crawl on top of him when he, inadvertently, became “ready,” and make love to herself. Sometimes his body didn’t respond; he had had sex with someone else too recently. Time was going by at a steady pace, as usual. Several years passed that way.
    Willa had been home several times to see her parents and bring them things from different places in the world. She had her Ph.D. in biochemistry, just as Martha had, and she was now Dr. Willa Ways. She had worked projects in Africa, Greece, and Peru, among other countries. She had even written two books.
    Willa had her own condominium in New York and her own bank accounts. She had thought of marriage several times: doctors, leaders in the field of science. She was quite attractive to several men. “But I really want to do a few more things before I marry. Besides, I’m not in love and I want to love the man I marry. He won’t have to be a doctor of anything, I can afford to support my husband, if I have to,” she would laugh. But she kept putting marriage off, thinking, “I have time.” Time was passing, but in her life she had already used it wisely, so it didn’t hurt as it passed.
    Futila had begun following her husband in the car he had bought her, parking it in strange hidden places she thought he would not see. She watched his office to see who went in, came out, and when he left. Most of the time he knew she was out there watching him. His co-workers and employees laughed at her. A few women didn’t laugh at her, they felt sad for her. They understood the pain.
    Futila didn’t want a divorce. Now, she just wanted to prove to him he was a liar and he was cheating on her. Why she had to prove it to him is a question, because he already knew it.
    She listened closely when he came home and slept, whispering questions close to his ear to see if she could make him talk in his sleep. Listen to me, chile: She had hidden, lying under parked cars, crouched in scary bushes, secreted in dark, empty houses and empty lots in the darkness of night, until Dante would come out of some woman’s house or some motel room.
    Finally she began to confront him wherever she found him, in a loud and brazen voice no matter the early morning hours. She would forget her social standing. He would argue briefly as he angrily or nonchalantly passed her by, going to his car that was parked right in front of the woman’s house, and drive away. He never hit her, just pushed her away from hitting him. When he was gone she would stand in front of whichever house it was, and call whichever lady it was, all kinds of bitches and things until she remembered her society friends would hear about it. Then outside in the street, by herself, she would run crying to her car and rush home to confront him more. This went on for years. Her grief and pain had begun to show on her face, in her body, even in the way she stood or walked. Bent. She told herself, “He’s gettin older. He gonna stop all this mess. He gettin old and his time is runnin out. He can’t keep this up.” But she was getting older also. Her time was running out also. Time was passing by, chile.
    Her close friends asked her, “Why don’t you leave him? Your children are almost ready for college. He will have to give you some of the property. At least your home. Pack your tears away and pack your bags, and go get yourself a education, it ain’t too late! Or meet someone else who can love you and you could love back. Someone who will do you right!” But she wasn’t sure what she wanted anymore. She was obsessed and confused. Well, when did she ever stop to learn anything?
    Futila