Reborn

That night he gently lay me down and worshipped my body. I had told him that I was a virgin and he took it in stride. He sucked my dick. I sucked his. He kissed every inch of my body from head to toe. He was so tender and I cried as we kissed and he didn't flinch from my emotions. And later in the night, he made love to me. For my very first time. In a strangers home, this incredible man had made me see stars. It was beautiful and it felt perfect.

I felt loved. Maybe for the first time in my life. I held no illusions that Jon was in love with me, but he made me feel loved that night and over those few days and I would absorb as much of that feeling as I could.

When I awoke I could hear laughing down in the kitchen. Everyone was gathered around, exchanging stories and listening to our hosts talk about all their guests from over the decades that they'd welcomed into their lovely, warm home. Jon saw me come down the stairs and he motioned me to a chair he'd saved for me, right next to him. The food was amazing. The people were unforgettable. I wanted to cry, but I sucked it up and forced myself to enjoy this moment.

After we said goodbye and hugged our hosts, we set out in a group to explore. In the early evening everyone was acting a little suspicious and I just figured they had some inside jokes or something from back home, that I just didn't catch. But then we ended up in front of a tattoo parlor and they were all smiles. Jon told me they wanted to get me a tattoo, as a gift from all of them, to remember them and the trip by. I always wanted a tattoo and I remember mentioning it way back in the train where we first met them. Jon had remembered.

Inside the parlor I talked with a lovely artist who had already spoken with Jon on the phone earlier in the day. I have no idea when he had snuck off to do that, but he had. I was getting a tattoo on my upper back and it was going to be a surprise. I was nervous about all of it, but I threw caution to the wind and I lay on the table and gave in to the process.

Jon sat by my head and held my hand the whole time. We chatted and he smiled at me. I didn't even mind the pain that radiated from my back and shoulders. I just enjoyed being there with Jon and his friends. This was so different from my life. It was like a fairytale to me. I forgot about my family and all the strife and I immersed myself in this fantasy.

Hours later, my tattoo was done. I was aching and sore but the look on Jon's face when he looked at my completed piece made all of the pains melt away. He looked amazed and excited about what he had had the artist ink onto my body, permanently. I was nervous but I wanted to please him so I told myself I'd like it, whatever it was.

Finally I stood and he led me to the mirror. I stood shirtless with Jon next to me, holding my hand. The artist stood behind us and asked if I was ready to see it. I said yes and she held up a second mirror behind me so I could see the reflection of my new artwork. My mouth fell open and I was speechless. Our other friends bounced in the background in excitement and Jon beamed at me in the mirror.

I turned and threw my arms around him. He hugged me back, careful to keep his arms below the new tattoo on my back. He whispered things in my ear and he told me how much I'd come to mean to him over the last few days. He told me how special I was. And he told me adored me. I cried, of course.

I pulled back and wiped my eyes and looked into the mirror again. There, on my back, was a Phoenix. It had curling flames around its legs and wings spread wide. Its head was held high and confidently. The warm beautiful colors were exactly like the colors in the glass I had be so enamored with. Jon had given me my Phoenix back and this one was unbreakable. He told me then that I was the Phoenix. I would rise from the ashes of my life of trials and I would come back stronger and stronger. I believed every word he said.

That night we stayed at a hostel with huge communal rooms. There were twelve of us all in that one room. After everyone settled in for the night, Jon whispered in my ear that we should go for a walk. We silently slipped out of the room. We strolled in the darkened streets of Lisbon, hand and hand. We didn't talk a lot, we just existed together.

He led me to an abandoned park on the edge of the city. We found a place to lay in the grass and look at the stars. He lay on his back and I was on my side, laying my head in his chest. He rubbed my back, below my tattoo, with his warm hand. I listened to his steady heartbeat.

He pulled me up to his face and we kissed. It grew into an inferno of passion quickly. He pushed his pants down and I reached for his erection. I stroked him as our tongues tangled in our frenzied kisses. I sat back from him and pulled my pants off and set them aside. I crawled on top of him and I rode his cock until we both were completely satisfied and breathless.

He watched me as I had taken my pleasure from him. He stroked my shaft as I bounced on his. It was perfect. In that dark lonely park, in this foreign city so far from real life, I felt like I was reborn, just like the mythical creature that now lived on my back. Jon had given it all to me.

I stayed with Jon and his friends for another few days until I heard from my brother. It was a text, so at least I didn't have to speak to him. He informed me he was heading to Gibraltar and then to Morocco. He wanted to know if I'd be in either of those places. I didn't want to leave Jon. I didn't want to see Christian. I still feared being cut off though. I thought going back to my brother was probably the best idea.

Jon didn't want me to see my brother. I understood his concerns but I also was so torn. I wasn't cut out to be homeless. I was going to need to go back to Seattle in a few weeks. I was going to Whitman College in the fall to study biochemistry. I knew this couldn't last forever, no matter how badly I wanted it to. Real life was unavoidable.

So with buckets of tears, desperate kisses by the train and a promise to talk everyday, I walked away from Jon and boarded the train to Gibraltar. He stood and watched the train pull out of the station with tears in his eyes, too. I cried myself to sleep on the train.

Christian was cold, even more so that usual. We traveled together and we never spoke. I hated it. I lived for the moments when I could talk to Jon every night. He was flying back to Toronto tomorrow as I headed to Morocco with Christian.

The time difference was larger, but we still managed to talk every day, except for once, which we made up for the next day with an even longer call. During those calls we learned more about each other and I found out about his real life.

He was gay. He was single. He and his twin sister owned their own company and were both serious overachievers. He was thinking about buying a condo instead of renting. He had two cats. He liked to work out and then eat poutine. He called it balance. I also learned that every day I was away from him, I yearned for him more and more. The phone calls made each day worth it, but I was feeling more and more despondent after every call. I tried to hide it from him. But I sensed that he knew anyway.

The weeks had passed and it was time to go home. My relationship with my brother was different. We were more estranged than ever before, which I didn't even think was possible. But at the same time, he didn't seem to want to push his luck with me so much. My confidence in myself had grown. I did feel reborn in many ways. I was stronger. My strength intimidated my brother. I made a note to myself. I'd save this tidbit for an emergency.

We flew home. I was refreshed and exhausted all at once. I felt apprehensive about seeing my parents, but not to the extent I had expected. I kind of didn't care what they thought anymore. That feeling was freeing. I also knew I only had a few weeks of summer left before I started college. Walla Walla was on the other side of the state from Seattle, so I was leaving home. I couldn't wait.

I would rise from the ashes of my youth and I'd start my new life at school, with my wings spread wide. Jon had given me that. He had given me so much. I was falling in love with him. I was already in love with him, let's be honest. Jon was the reason this trip would be a good memory for me. Jon was the reason I felt strong. Jon was my everything. I wanted to be with him, but we knew it wasn't possible, so we didn't even talk about it. It would just make us both depressed.

I felt like there was an expiration date on my time with Jon and I feared the end. I dreamt about him on the plane. In my dream we made love in the clouds. We floated together in ecstasy and happiness. I cried when I woke up. I mourned that dream. And I cherished that dream.

The plane touched down and we collected our bags. Mine was lighter than when I'd left. Half my clothes had been ruined by my brother that night in Barcelona. My glass treasure from Venice was no more. My Chanel sunglasses survived, deep in a pocket of my pack. I rejoiced that I'd hidden then from my brother, so he hadn't know to look for them to destroy them. I dragged my feet as we exited the building, looking for our parents in the arrivals area.

I spotted my dad standing by the car. My mother was sitting in the passenger seat, looking at her phone. As we approached, my mom got out and ran to Christian and gathered him into her arms as she cried. My dad stood by and waited for his hug from my brother.

My mom looked at me. Her face twisted and she commented that I looked like I hadn't showered and my hair was a mess. It almost fucking broke me. My dad said nothing to me. Christian smiled an evil smile at me when they weren't watching. Not like they'd do anything if they did see him.

My dad put my brothers bag in the back and walked to the drivers side and opened the door to get in. Christian got into the back seat. I lifted my bag into the back myself, of course. But just as I closed the hatch on my father's SUV, I heard my name being yelled frantically. I spun around to where the sound was coming from and there, running down the sidewalk, dodging travelers left and right was my dream come true. Jon.

He ran to me and I ran to meet him. He hugged me tight and he kissed me hard. People were watching our emotional reunion. My mother was screaming at my dad, demanding he stop this and for me to get my ass in the car. Before I could turn to look at them, Jon took my face into his hands and made me look into his eyes.

Jon told me not to go with them. He wanted to take me back to Toronto. He couldn't let me go with this toxic trio, even if they were my biological family. He asked me to trust him and to come be reborn with him. I nodded through my torrent of tears. I walked back to the car briskly while my mother called me names and accused me of embarrassing her and her family. Not my family. Her family.

I popped the hatch back open and I grabbed my bag. I slammed the hatch as hard as I could, hoping my father would have a heart attack because of it. He loved that car more than me. Fuck him. Fuck all of them. I turned and walked back to Jon, who was beaming at me. He took my hand and we walked away from that family. They weren't my family. Jon was my family now.

I went back to Toronto with Jon. I helped him pick out a condo. His sister and mom welcomed me with open arms. I got to see the crew from the trip abroad. Instant family and friends. Jon helped me make sure my school was still sorted and he helped me apply for financial aid for the portion my parents were planning to pay. To my surprise, they had already paid it and I was all set for when I arrived.

Jon took me to school. He visited once a month. He flew me home for breaks and the summer. We worked hard to make it work and it did work. My dad texted me twice during the school year. I responded both times, but I didn't reach out first, ever.

The summer between my freshman and sophomore year, Jon and I got engaged. I went back to Whitman for my second year. Jon and I figured out my finances and my parents didn't pay for anything that year. I was fine with that. Jon was glad.

My junior year I transferred to Lawrence Technological University in Michigan. It was only three hours from home in Toronto. I was able to go home every weekend. I graduated with my biochemistry degree the next year and that summer I married the love of my life.

He took me to Venice for our honeymoon and we found the artist that had made my Phoenix. Jon paid him a large sum of money to reproduce it, but bigger and even better, this time.

This one was a sculpture, instead of a necklace. It was even more colorful and so much more detailed, thanks to its larger size. It was breathtaking. It sat in the window of our bedroom in Toronto. Jon made sure the cats couldn't get anywhere near it. In the early mornings, Jon and I would make love as the sun shone through the glass and filled our room with color.

My whole life was full of color. My family was incredible. Jon and his sister, and their single mother, were the most loving family, and they were mine. My real family. Our friends, old and new, enriched our lives further. Jon and I were happy and we never looked back. My life was reborn. I was the real Phoenix. The ashes of my past had blown away and the blissful future stretched out in front of me.