Chapter 12 #2
“I’ve gathered that it’s Japanese and it’s about finding beauty in the broken, imperfect, and impermanent.
Willa was at the club today with her man, Atlas.
She owns an antique store here. She was talking about how everything has some special kind of beauty, even if you have to look harder to see it.
Atlas, because he’s a smart ass, asked me if I’d heard of wabi-sabi.
I hadn’t so he enlightened me, then playfully shoved me roughly into a wall and told me that I’m beautiful too and I shouldn’t doubt it.
He’s young and kind of a jock, with the whole Hollywood good looks on top of it all. I’ve never felt more appreciated.”
Loreena gapes at me. “Guys are so weird.”
I can’t hold back a grin. The last thing I wanted was for anyone to treat me like I’m made of glass and eggshells.
“Willa told him to behave, and he apologized and told me I could punch him if I wanted to, but there was nothing to throw blows over. I’m not part of the club, but it’s nice to feel like I belong somewhere, even if I was dragged there reluctantly. ”
I know how ironic that is, but if Loreena’s thinking it, she doesn’t say so. She rips off a piece of crusty baguette and sighs softly as she chews. I never believed food could be sexy until right now.
I might not have thrown blows earlier, but my cock does now, punching aggressively at my zipper. The fucker will knock himself out doing that. I wince just thinking about what kind of damage being this hard can actually do.
“I know another word that kind of describes what I’ve felt since I got here,” Loreena says. “It doesn’t really make sense, so maybe it’s the wrong word altogether.”
I’d love to hear what she thinks. I love just sitting here, talking with her, whether we’re being silly or serious. It reminds me of opening her letters in prison with fumbling hands and a racing heart, knowing that anything she’d written would make being there bearable for another day.
“What is it?”
“Hiraeth.”
“I haven’t heard of that either.”
“It’s Welsh or Scottish. I can’t remember which, and I probably should, or I shouldn’t say anything at all, but it means this deep longing for a place, usually home.
I’ve never really felt like I had a home, even when I did.
I didn’t realize I felt like that until I came here and had this sense of…
like you said. Belonging.” Her lips twitch despite the serious tone. “And I also came reluctantly.”
Ten-four on that. She obviously did appreciate the irony.
We lapse into a comfortable silence while we eat.
I got tiramisu for dessert, but I imagine we’re both so stuffed that it’ll keep for later.
We pack up the leftovers together and I manage to stuff the cork back into the wine bottle, although I don’t know if it’ll stay.
We slip everything into the fridge, then Loreena insists on washing up the few dishes we used.
She stares out the window above the sink, into the backyard.
I lean against the cupboards, drinking my fill of her, even though I know I should look away.
I had to adjust myself after I got up from the table, when I had my back to Loreena.
There’s no hope for deflation anytime soon, but if she so much as looks over at me and I move, there might be a tent issue with my jeans and she’d definitely notice.
“You know what Lockwood basically told me?”
I’ve wanted so badly to ask, but I wasn’t going to intrude on her private session. If she wanted to tell me, she would. I figured she’d need a few days to decompress from something like that, or to even begin to start processing.
“What did he say?”
“I think he basically meant that all this time, I’ve been trapped up in my head.
I knew that, in a way. I’ve been struggling to try and fix what’s going on in there.
I thought that all of this was caused by bad brain signals or chemicals, and I knew I had to fix my mental health, but I didn’t realize just how much of this is physical as well.
I knew the second I’d try and push myself, but the rest of the time, maybe that was the problem.
I hate what’s going on in my head, but it was still safer to hate it and hide than it was just to feel all the pain and fear and the rest of it in my body. ”
I’d love to say something intelligent. I’ve done plenty of research ever since she told me about her condition, but I’m no doctor. I basically know fuck all about anything, it could be argued, although I know that if Loreena was going to do any arguing, she’d tell me the exact opposite.
She drains the sink and turns to me, her hands dripping suds. “I want to try and go into the backyard.”
I nearly choke. “Are you sure that… uh… we did just eat.”
She flushes, looks at the window, back at me, and then snorts.
“You’re right. The gagging would be a bitch being this full.
But you’re here with me, and all I’ve been thinking about is how I should just do this and get it over with.
The longer I put it off, the more I’m going to dread it, until it becomes this huge thing.
” She laughs sharply. “Fuck. It’s already a huge thing.
If you’re handing out trophies, can I get one for being the most ridiculous? ”
“No.” I take her wet hands in mine. “But you can have one for being the kindest, smartest, most dedicated and caring person I know. You’re brave. You might not know it yet, but I do.”
She looks away, towards the window. “When Lockwood said that stuff about pain stored up in the body, I did some research. This video came up, and it basically said that the heart isn’t just an organ. It does feel. It remembers.”
There’s no way I’m calling bullshit on that. Judging from her slightly skeptical tone, she doesn’t totally believe that’s true, so there must be a reason she said it.
“Even if it’s not true, it’s a nice thought. You could make new memories. Ones of joy, laughter, friendship, and care.”
“Stop,” she pleads, shutting me right up with the heavy ache that fills up the space between us.
“I can’t pretend that you’re not beautiful and sexy, and that you don’t smell good and that it doesn’t feel glorious whenever I’m next to you.
I want to be better for you.” She studies the window like she wishes it would shatter and suck her outside so that it could all be over.
All the trepidation and aching and painful agony.
I clasp her wrists and then her arms, her elbows, and her shoulders, reeling her into me little by little. I hold her loosely, in a hug that she could push out of if she wanted to. The last thing I want to do is force contact that is designed to help her feel good.
She doesn’t step away. She melts into me instead. Her body goes languid and all the air rushes out of her in a great sigh.
“I want you just the way you are,” I whisper near the shell of her ear. I do understand the desire to be better. I want to be more than a jobless ex-con with nothing to my name, and a decade of prison behind me.”
“You’re so much more than that. And you have a job.” She tries for humor, but I can hear the tears in her voice.
I’m so close that all I’d have to do is sweep my face next to hers and bend a little in order to claim her lips.
But claim is the wrong word. I don’t want to take anything from Loreena.
I want to give. To help her heal. To be right beside her so she can lean on me.
It would be an honor to share her sorrows, her joys, her triumphs, and the honest moments of her heart when it needs to be picked up and sheltered before it tries again.
She tilts her face up but presses the rest of her body tightly against me like she needs my warmth. I brush my fingertips down her cheek, to her jaw. She arches into that too. My chest aches. My heart hurts. My entire body wants all of her, but wanting isn’t enough.
I need this to be right, or I’ll only hurt her further.
She’s so vulnerable, and she’s letting me stand here with her and see it all. I’m already bearing it with her.
“I want to go outside,” she whimpers. “Even if I know it’s not time yet. I- I just- I want. So. Badly.”
“Shh.” I sweep her around and she turns with me.
She’s so attuned to my movements that it’s like we’ve already spent a lifetime together.
I wrap my arms around her and hold her from behind, swaying with her gently.
I let her stare out the window. We’re silhouetted in it.
It’s so dark that the glass is more like a mirror than it is a portal to anything out there.
Her lashes sweep up and down as she studies us.
Her hands grasp mine and lock them around her waist. She holds onto me as though she’s drowning.
She sucks in a shuddering breath and closes her eyes.
I drop my chin to her neck and nuzzle into her.
She rests her head back on my shoulder, letting me.
She’s sweet. No perfume, but she smells so soft and pretty.
Jasmine, honey, and vanilla. I can still see her in the window, eyes closed, leaning on me completely, so unguarded.
So damn sweet. She’s exquisite in every way.
I never dreamed that I’d have a moment in my life like this.
I never once ever thought that I’d ever have anything half this wonderful.
“Can you sing?” she whispers.
My eyes pop fully open. “What?”
“Can you sing?”
“Not a chance.”
“Can you hum?”
“Uh… I can probably hum. I don’t think it takes any special training.”