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She knew it all along. She can live with that. She can love me still, even knowing all the wretched things I’ve done. It’s this world though, the world she fled and the world I dragged her back to, that’s doing the harm.
I want so badly to blame it on that when I brush the loose strands of her hair off her collarbone with the backs of my fingers so I can kiss her there. I wish I could blame it all on this place. It’s only when I stop touching her that she opens her eyes.
A hint of a smile plays at her lips when she finally looks back at me.
“Come to bed with me.” I give her the command when we get into the bedroom. With the curtains parted, there’s no need to turn on the light. It’s dimly lit, but enough so that I can see her perfectly when my eyes adjust. I can see her standing in the doorway, slow to follow me and hesitant to do what I told her.
Hesitant to come to bed with me.
All she’s thinking about is the sex. It’s not because she’s uncertain if it’s safe; the doctor said it was last week. Our first time getting pregnant was an accident. She’s questioning if we should try for a baby on purpose.
Whether or not we should try again. Whether we should use protection.
Whether she wants this like I do.
Whether she wants me still… I know that’s a question that drifts into her mind when she looks at me like that.
That part of me that doesn’t know it’s broken until she heals me… it’s screaming in pain right now.
“I think I just need to sleep. There’s so much on my mind.” Her excuse falters in the air as she heads to the dresser, taking off her earrings. I can hear them clink in the small ceramic trinket bowl.
“Tell me,” I insist and then clear my throat, pretending like I haven’t been devastated every night she’s looked at me like that and made some kind of excuse. “Tell me what’s on your mind.”
“I haven’t processed everything.”
“You can talk it out with me.” I ignore the thump in my chest as I speak. The battering of something hard against my rib cage aches with every small movement.
“Like you talk things out with me?” She turns from the dresser, tense and on the angry side. She seems to realize her quick temper before I can react, crossing her arms over her chest. “Sorry,” she apologizes in a hushed murmur. When did it get to be like this? Where we can’t talk. The start of a conversation turns into a fight, even if we know we need each other.
Tucking her hair behind her ear, she looks me in the eyes and says, “I know you would… if…”
I close the distance between us and make my way over to finish the thought for her and say, “If that’s what you wanted.”
“Right,” she breathes, the tension leaving her, her arms falling to her side the moment I place my hand on her hip. “It’s my fault,” she tells me with a harsh swallow.
“Come here,” I tell her and my words come out low and rough. There’s an edge that’s demanding, I know there is. It’s a part of me that I’m trying to soften for her. It’s still a part of me though.
Falling into my chest and pressing her body as close to mine as she can, she breathes so softly I almost don’t hear the admission just under my chin, “I don’t know what I want anymore.” I tighten my hold on her, wishing I could go back to moments ago. When she was laughing and reaching for me. She confesses, “I’m scared.”
It’s the first time she’s shown me this raw sincerity since we lost the baby.
“It’s all right to be scared.” With my arm wrapped around her lower back, I splay my hand against her shoulder and rock her slightly, just slightly. She pulls back a tiny bit, only to see me, her chest to mine. I watch as the moonlight filters in from the subtle movement of the curtains, reflecting in her gaze. There’s so much vulnerability there. Even now. Even after all we’ve been through. How much more can she take?
“Kiss me.” I give her the command and her posture relaxes, her composure softening the instant her eyes close, and she stands on her tiptoes to bring her lips closer to mine. I keep my eyes open. I watch as she reaches up with both hands, twining her fingers behind my neck as she pushes her lips against mine. She doesn’t hesitate this time.
“I love you,” she whispers against my lips, peeking up at me through her thick lashes. The curtains sway and bring with them a sudden gust of late-night air, carrying the faint smells of early spring with them.
“I love you too,” I tell her, but it’s not enough. They’re only words that don’t compare to what I feel inside.
I’m sorry I put her through all of this. I don’t admit it though, because more than sorry, I’m selfish and I wouldn’t change it. That’s the most fucked-up part. I can’t live without her. Even knowing how it breaks her.
“Get ready for bed,” she tells me with a weak smile. The smile that’s not a smile. The fake one she’s always had.
I’m still fully clothed, shoes and all.
The wooden floor creaks in time with her deep inhale as she turns from me and I do as she wishes, letting her take the lead although I don’t know how long she’ll want it.
“Tell me something and I will,” I barter with her.
