Chapter 20 #2
“Might I be honest with you?” Rose’s heart started to race as she considered what she was about to say. She didn’t know why she wanted to say it, just that she did as if it might somehow help.
“Please.”
“If there was anyone whom I was capable of sharing my bed with, it is you.”
Christopher said nothing at first, and she worried that she had gone too far. She cursed herself silently and was about to make a joke out of it, hoping to diffuse the tension. But then, he spoke up.
“As am I, Rose.”
Rose smiled, and while she might have been imagining it, she could feel the tension between them fading. What was more, she could feel Christopher’s body loosening, so that he wasn’t nearly so stiff. Again, the urge to shuffle closer took her, but she resisted it.
“Can I ask you something?” Rose said softly.
“I sense that you won’t take no for an answer.”
She laughed again. “I know so little of you, Christopher. And it feels strange to me. That we are married, and I don’t know the first thing about you.”
“That’s not true.”
“It is,” she said.
“You know of my work. We live together. You have seen me at my best and my worst. What else is there to know?”
“So much.” Carefully, she shuffled an inch closer.
“And I feel that you know so much more about me than I do about you. You have met my father and my sister. Anything you wish to know, you can always ask, and I will happily tell you. But you…” She trailed off, not wanting to push on what she knew to be a sensitive topic.
Indeed, for a few moments, nothing was said.
Rose lay on her side, watching her husband through the dark. She could not make out his face, but she could sense the hesitancy in him. He was always so closed off, so careful not to reveal anything personal about himself, as if he thought that doing so was a weakness.
She would have loved to have asked why he thought it was a weakness, but that would have required her to know more about him.
If only he would open to me, just a little, just enough so that I know the man whom I now call my husband is human. There is another side to him, a hidden side, and despite what he might say, I know that he wants to let it out.
The silence built… the tension gathered… Rose could hear her heart thumping as her husband said nothing… and then, he did.
“My mother died when I was just a boy,” he began, his voice so soft that she barely heard it. “And my father died when I was barely a man. My only living relative is my aunt, and unsurprisingly, we are not nearly as close as we could be.”
“Why not?” she asked gently.
He scoffed. “Many reasons…” Silence followed his declaration, and she thought he was finished. “You want to know why I am the way that I am? Is that it?”
“And what way is that?”
He laughed bitterly. “You know what way, Rose. Cold. Distant. Particular.”
“You are not…” She sucked through her teeth. “You are not as cold as you once were.”
He laughed again, only this time it sounded real. “It’s how I was raised, is why. My father wanted a perfect son, and I wanted to be that perfect son. He did not like gossip. He did not appreciate rumors. What he wanted was…” He sniffed. “He wanted perfection, and he demanded it from me.”
“Was he kind?” she asked.
“Kind? How do you mean?”
“I don’t know,” she said and then, on instinct, shuffled another inch across the bed. “Was he generous? Did you and he get along?”
“We did,” Christopher admitted. “Assuming that I behaved,” he added with a soft chuckle, a sound that was becoming more and more naturally sounding.
“I do miss my father more than he would ever believe. But I wish I could remember my mother. Even when I close my eyes and try my hardest, I can’t…
” He sniffed again. “There is nothing there, not even a memory.”
“I am sure that she loved you.”
“I know that she did,” he said with a serious tone, as if he needed himself to believe it. “I just wish I could tell her how much I love her in return. For everything.”
To most, such revelations would not be that big of a deal. To speak about one’s father and mother, their upbringing, and the love they held for their parents, was not such a big thing. But in the context of Christopher and who he was, it was huge.
It told Rose that he was starting to trust her.
It told Rose that he was starting to care about her.
It told Rose that he had accepted that she was now a part of his life, that he wanted her to be a part of his life, and that he knew that to happen, he needed to give her more.
Rose smiled through the dark, wishing that Christopher could see it. But she knew it did not matter, as if he could already sense how grateful she was.
Christopher was still the same man she had married all those weeks ago, but he was also not the same. Slowly but surely, the walls he had erected around himself were being chipped away. Better still, he was the one doing it.
He wants me to get to know him better, I am sure of it. He just doesn’t know how.
“Christopher…” She shuffled over, making her movement more obvious this time. “Thank you.”
“For what?”
“For sharing…” She reached out and found his hand beside him, taking it, pulling it to her chest, and squeezing it. “You have no idea how much I appreciate it.”
“I do,” he said as he turned on his side to look at her. “I do.”
There wasn’t much else to say after that.
Oh, sure, Rose could have pushed a little bit harder. She could have asked about Christopher’s father more, or his aunt. She could have asked for stories from his childhood, who his first kiss was, any number of things to continue to chip away at his walls.
She knew, too, that for now, there was no need. This was not a race, but a slow and steady journey that would last the rest of their lives. And if she played things just right, the rest of their lives might not be nearly as bad as they could have been.
For that reason, Rose was happy to let go of Christopher’s hand, turn on her side, and try for more sleep. This time, when she did, she did not feel nearly as uncomfortable as before. If anything, having him sleep in the bed with her felt right.
When Rose drifted off, she felt Christopher beside her, shuffling close, his body right beside her own. Whether it was an accident or not, she could not say, but at one point in the night, his arm wrapped around her and pulled her body into his. And not for a second did Rose consider pulling away.