Chapter 9
I wake up heavy and still upset the next morning.
In fact, I feel so bad about all my failures yesterday that I don’t even go out to help Mason with morning chores. He’s said repeatedly that he doesn’t need my help, and doing nothing but Genevieve and Vera this morning would remind me of yesterday’s embarrassment.
So I putter around the kitchen until it’s time to start fixing breakfast. I’m careful as I break the eggs and chop the ham, onions, and mushrooms for the omelets. As I cook, I plan out some sort of apology to Mason about yesterday.
All it takes to end a marriage in the Central Cities is to turn in more paperwork to the government. Mason can end our arrangement anytime he wants.
Everyone needs to earn their keep in this world, including me. And the more comforts we’re given, the more work we owe.
I’ve been given so much since I became his wife. That means I owe a lot.
If I become more of a hassle to him than a help, there’s every chance he’ll change his mind about us.
Maybe he’s already considering it.
He’s never been a talker, but he’s even quieter than normal when he comes in for breakfast. He washes up at the sink and then takes his seat at the table, watching as I plate up the omelets and toast.
His silence feels heavier than it should. Tense. Like he’s thinking a lot of things he hasn’t gotten said yet.
I gulp and steel myself as I bring his plate and glass of milk to the table and then return for mine. When I sit down, I meet his eyes.
He opens his mouth, then closes it again. Stares down at his plate.
The food looks perfect. Even better than normal. Surely he doesn’t see anything wrong with it.
“You okay?” he finally mumbles.
Oh no. Maybe he believes I’m so feeble I can’t even do my basic duties without falling apart. “Yes. I’m fine.”
“You didn’t come out to do Genevieve and Vera.”
“You said you didn’t need me to.”
“Yeah, but you’ve always come to do them anyway.”
“Oh.” I have no idea what to say. How to explain my absence.
It will sound quite pathetic to explain I feel like a failure and want to minimize the chances of being one again today.
I want him to be impressed by me. I want him to be happy to have me as a wife.
It’s been more than a month. I should be doing better than this.
He doesn’t continue the conversation, so we eat in silence.
It feels terrible. Much worse than a quiet breakfast with Mason usually feels. And it’s not only coming from me. It’s coming from him too. I can sense it.
He’s unhappy.
And it’s my fault.
If he were Annabelle, I would say something. Ask her about her feelings and explain mine. If he were Lorraine or Aria, I would add it to the massive pile of grievances and shrug it off.
But this is Mason. I have no experience with someone like him. I have no experience with this kind of relationship.
Marrying him was the best thing to ever happen to me, and if I do something wrong that causes him to end it, whatever decent life I might have had will be effectually destroyed.
My stewing on all these questions lasts until Mason finishes his meal. I haven’t been able to get down more than half my food, so I pass my plate over to him to finish.
He does without speaking. His focus is mostly down on his food, but he’ll dart his gaze up every few minutes to give my face a quick check.
I have absolutely no idea what he’s thinking.
I thought I was understanding him better, but I’m not. He’s a closed book again now. And my life depends on reading him correctly so I can give him what he wants.
The truth hits me so hard I start shaking. Have to fight making it visible.
Then emotion swells in my throat and in my eyes. It’s terrible, but I’m not going to fall apart. I’m not.
I’m so committed to this internal resolution that I’m shocked when a couple of big tears slide out of my eyes without warning and plop right down on the table surface.
I gasp and jerk my head up.
Mason is staring at me. He saw them.
With a whimper, I try to tell him I’m sorry. For everything. If I have to beg him to give me another chance, I will.
Before I can get a word out, he does.
“I’m sorry!” he exclaims, appearing surprised by his own outburst.
“W-what?” I swipe away a couple more tears.
“I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to hurt you. I feel like shit about the whole thing, and now you’re so scared of me you’re crying about it. I promise I’ll never do it again.” He sucks in a ragged breath. “Please don’t leave me.”
“W-what?” I say again, my stomach roiling with confusion now more than fear. “You’re sorry?”
“Course I’m sorry! Did you think I wanted to do that to you last night? I thought you were okay. I thought you were into it.”
“I was… I wanted to do that. You didn’t hurt me.”
“Yes, I fucking did. I could see it plain as day afterward. Then you ran away from me, and today you’ll barely look at me. I know I fucked up, but it wasn’t ’cause I’m okay with acting like that. I was… I got… carried away. And I thought the way you were talking meant you wanted it like that.”
“I did! I mean, I wanted you to… to get what you wanted from it. I kept telling you it was all good. Why would you think anything else?”
“I could have paid better attention.” He’s not as withdrawn now.
He’s still visibly upset, but he’s also talking to me.
Earnest and real. “It’s not an excuse, but it’s all new for me.
I never dreamed… I had no idea it’d be so good.
That I could feel like I feel with you. So I think I let it go to my head.
But the last thing I’d ever want to do is make you cry.
I’ll do better. I’ll never do it again. Please don’t leave me. ”
“I’m not going to leave!” I take a swallow of milk because my throat still feels swollen. “I’m not mad at you. You didn’t hurt me. It wasn’t… It didn’t feel good for me like it did for you, but I’d already had my turn. It was all fine. It wasn’t… it wasn’t that.”
He inhales and exhales in a big gust. Some of the tension loosens on his face. “So you’re not scared of me now?”
“No. Of course not. It never even crossed my mind.”
“So then what’s wrong? Why were you crying just now?”
I don’t want to answer. Because the true answer is mortifying.
But it couldn’t have been easy for Mason to admit to me what he just did, so it’s only right for me to do the same.
“I was afraid… I was afraid I’d really messed up.
I was afraid you were disappointed in me.
I was afraid… I was afraid that you wanted me to leave. ”
He gapes at me, openly astonished for a moment. Then he gives his head a big shake as his mouth twists. “You can’t be serious.”
“I am serious. I know it sounds… pathetic, but that’s why I was crying.”
“How did you mess up? Because you didn’t wake up to help me with chores this morning?” He appears utterly baffled, and that’s obviously his best guess.
“No! Because of yesterday. I messed up with milking. Then I messed up by falling in the afternoon. And then I messed up when I… with the sex.”
“How did you mess up with sex?”
“Because it’s only supposed to not feel good the first time, but it still didn’t. I mean, you didn’t hurt me, but I didn’t think it was supposed to… to feel like that.”
“How did it feel?”
“Not… not comfortable.”
“I knew it wasn’t good for you. Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Because… I’m sorry. I wanted you to have your turn, and I was afraid you would have stopped if I’d told you.”
“Of course I would’ve stopped. I’m bigger and stronger than you. I’m responsible for never hurting you. It doesn’t matter whose turn it is.” He’s frowning down at his empty plate. “I thought…”
“You thought what?”
“I thought…” He’s self-conscious again. “I thought that part of sex was supposed to be about both of us. Not just me.”
He’s disappointed. I knew he would be.
Fighting against more tears, I manage to say, “I’ll keep trying. I’ve only done it twice.”
“Me too. I don’t know what I’m doing any more than you do. But we’re not gonna do it unless it’s comfortable for you. We can do other things.”
“I don’t want to stop trying. Can’t we still try?”
He scrutinizes my face. “Yeah, we can try. But we’re gonna go slow.
I can’t believe…” He stops and rephrases.
“I know you had a shitty time with Lorraine and Aria and they didn’t treat you right and you learned to keep it to yourself.
But here with me, nothing is supposed to be bad like that.
Nothing. So if something hurts or is uncomfortable or if you need help with anything, you gotta tell me. ”
I gulp again. So loud he probably hears me. Then I sniff and nod. “Okay.”
We look at each other for a minute in silence. Then I ask, “Do you think it’s weird?”
“What’s weird?”
“Me mostly. For not knowing… anything. It’s a normal part of life. Natural, right? And I’m… clueless.”
“How could you have learned when no one taught you and you were trapped in that house all your life?” His tone is gentle, but his face works slightly as if he’s feeling a lot.
“I barely know better than you. Not cause I was trapped but cause my folks always tried to… protect me. Keep me away from the bad stuff. Then in the Capitol I kept trying to… protect myself.”
I reach out to touch his face softly, feeling the scratchiness of the bristles on his jaw. “I would have done the same thing. I did do the same thing.”
“So if you can understand that, understand me, then why are you blaming yourself?”
“I… I don’t know.”
“You’ve done the best you could with what you were given. Same as me. And we’re both trying our best right now. I think we’re doing okay.”
I give him a trembling smile. “Yes. We’re doing okay.
“So just tell me if something doesn’t seem right or feel good.
I mean it. I made it thirty years without having sex, so I’m not gonna fall apart if we have to take it slow.
My hand and me have been handling things fine for a long time, and I’d rather go back to that than hurt you again.
So if you’re so worried about disappointing me, the only thing that’s going to do that is if you hide stuff I need to know.
I’m not Lorraine. I’m not like that. I’m never going to treat you like that. ”
I’m still nodding. Wiping my eyes dry. “Okay.”
“You believe me?”
“Yes. You’ve always treated me better than her. But I think maybe… maybe I’ve gotten used to expecting people to hurt me. Since… since…”
“Since everyone always has,” he finishes soberly.
“Yes.” I can’t meet his eyes.
“Well, I’m not going to. Not on purpose anyway. And I swear I’m gonna be more careful in bed, but you gotta talk to me too.”
“Okay. I know I didn’t do right by pretending. I’ll do better too.”
He blows out a breath. His shoulders and jaw relax. “So you’re not gonna leave me?”
“Of course not!”
His mouth turns up in a little half smile. “Guess you got nowhere better to go.”
“I don’t have a lot of good choices, but I wouldn’t be tempted to leave you anyway. It’s been… it’s been great here. For me. Better than I ever knew to dream about.”
“Yeah?” He searches my face. “You mean it?”
“Yes. I mean it.”
“Good. Cause… things with you are better than I ever knew to dream about too.”
After our conversation, everything gets better. Not just for me but for Mason too.
He’s smiling a little as he goes outside to start his work for the day, and I feel like smiling too as I clean up the kitchen and then walk into the village to get enough food for the next few days.
On Sundays, Mason doesn’t do any of the heavy tasks, so we’re both done with our work by lunchtime. Together, we build the shelves I wanted in my closet and then organize the books on them.
He must have really been worried because he’s clearly happy and relieved now. And I am too. I keep giggling for no particular reason, and he seems to like it when I do.
When we’re done, I trim his hair, which has gotten so long it’s bothering him. He hangs around in the kitchen as I roast chicken, potatoes, and carrots for dinner. The food turns out delicious, and the day ends with evening chores.
In bed, he uses his hand to squeeze his shaft until he comes while he’s doing me with his other hand. It’s kind of exciting. To watch him get the same kind of pleasure I’m getting. He says we’ll try it the other way again soon, but he’s afraid I’ll still be sore today.
He’s right.
But, despite the modifications for my comfort, he looks a lot more relaxed and satisfied tonight as I get up to go to my own bed.
He smiles at me as I pull on my nightgown. “It was good for you this time?”
“Yes. It was really good. You’re sure you don’t mind—”
His frown breaks off my anxious question. “I’m sure. It was a lot better for both of us tonight.”
“Okay.” I giggle. I don’t know why. I just can’t help it. “But I do want to try again.”
“When you’re ready, we’ll definitely try again.”
We try again the next night. Mason is careful, and he goes slow. So slow that it’s a lot more comfortable than before and I finally have to encourage him to get moving. When he does, he comes almost immediately. He’s disappointed in himself, but I don’t mind at all.
I’m glad he got to finish inside me, and I’m relieved that it felt a lot better.
The next night, we try it again. This time he manages to last longer, although he’s tightly reining himself in to keep from going too fast or hard.
I’m worried he won’t enjoy it as much since he can’t really let go, but anytime I allude to that, he gets grumpy and insists it’s exactly the way he wants it.
I don’t actually know if I believe him or not, but I definitely believe he’s scared of hurting me again.
For a few weeks, we keep trying until eventually it’s completely comfortable for me to have him inside me.
After that, things are easier because he doesn’t have to be cautious all the time.
We have sex almost every night. He does me with his hand and then he moves over me and has his turn.
He’s still holding back, I suspect, but not as much as at first. I watch carefully, and there’s no sign that he’s not enjoying it.
Overall, he seems warmer and more natural with me than he was at the beginning, and I feel that way too.
We’re doing fine. This life we’re making together is better than either of us had alone.
It’s not like the universe will ever give us everything. And nothing given is ever free.
But still… I’ve never been happier than this.