Twenty-Six #4
Turning around I found myself against the foot of her bed.
Rilee kicked her shoes off as I cupped her face, her breath hot against mine.
With a gentle lean she sat me on the edge of her bed.
“Let me get these,” she murmured, kneeling, her fingers working at the laces of my clunky boots.
They fell off with a thud revealing the ugly black brace armoring my right ankle.
Her fingers traced the rigid edge of the plastic where it pressed against my skin, right through my sock.
Her fingers moved all the way down and around the solid bottom, where the appliance held up my foot, keeping my weak limb from dragging against the ground.
Then she tore off the velcro and pulled the contraption away.
“Is that better?” she asked, rubbing her fingers carefully across the now bare sole of my foot.
I could barely nod, trying to keep the tears at bay.
In one motion she stood and pulled off her shirt. “Okay then,” she said with a smile, stepping close, her thumb now rubbing along my collar bone. My palm felt the crinkle of the familiar lace bra from my dream.
At the memory of my dream I had a sudden unwelcomed urge. “Uh, I need a moment,” I grunted. Her lips pulled away from my neck. “Bathroom?” I asked.
I thought I heard a soft “mmm” escape from her as Rilee took a half step away, our fingers still lingering on each other. With the slight nod of her head toward a side door I knew from my dream she said, “Through there.”
Reluctantly, I got up and shuffled to the bathroom.
It was light colored. Shells and sand encased in a glass jar rested in the counter’s corner.
Finishing, I thought of the foil packet in the pocket of my coat, in the closet, near the front door, far away.
The tan towels were fluffy and full in my hands as I wiped them. Not a single duck.
Rilee lay in bed on her side, comforter around her waist, the hall light spilling across her. “I need to get something from my coat,” I said, worried about the delay.
The comment pleased her more than I expected, her white toothed grin visible even in the shadow. “That’s okay, I’ve got some here,” she said, sliding up on her knees. “Come back over here.” Carefully I crossed the distance and she grabbed on to me, her lips kissing the space over my heart.
She fumbled with my belt as my hands slid down her back.
Belt free, she chuckled, “Hey there,” as she found me.
It had been so long. So long since I’d been exposed and bare.
I leaned forward toward the bed, Rilee in my arms, me in her hands.
As we reached downward together a hot pop exploded in the low curve of my back shooting electrical fire through my hip and thighs, pouring down both legs, and jamming burning pokers through my feet.
“Fuck,” I jerked away, a knife twisting at the arch of my back.
The comfortable pressing heat that had covered the bare parts of me was now a cold fire consuming everything, and where I’d been strong I was weak, even in the support of her hands.
“Fuck.” Stumbling away I fell against the far wall.
This wasn’t going to work. This wasn’t what the dream promised.
This was reality, and reality never lived up to the fantasy of a dream.
Defeated, I hissed, “I’m sorry,” reaching for my boots and brace. I didn’t have anything to give her. I could barely stand or walk. I couldn’t hold down a job. I couldn’t even get a job to hold down. Not even bothering to put on my shoes, I stumbled down the hall reaching for my coat and keys.
Behind me Rilee said something I couldn’t hear.
I was out the door, barefoot, in the rain, boots in hand, when the soft press of the sheep fleece against my skin made me recognize I’d left my shirt behind.
For the briefest of moments I thought about turning back.
But what would I say? I forgot my shirt?
I forgot my damn cane? That was worse than running out on her.
Could I say let’s try that again, I promise it will be different this time?
I could never keep that promise. That left only, I’m broken but you can play with me anyway. Fuck that.
My truck turned over with a reassuring roar and I pulled away from the curb.
It was late but Kathy and Lukas might still be awake.
Or they’d hear me come home, they’d certainly want to know how things went–another failure.
Instead of turning toward my sister’s house I pulled into the parking lot of a motel.
Even buttoning up the jacket up to my neck to hide my bare chest I felt the cold pressing in, settling like a damp fog.
I really couldn’t afford a room, my savings were dwindling, but sometimes you just have to pay the cost because in the end no one else can do it for you.
It was so much easier when you didn’t know your balance.
But once you look at your accounting, once you know what you have, every penny paid is an agony.