Twenty-Seven
Rilee
The evening had started so nice. My clothes came together and looked great.
My hair held the slight curl I’d given it despite the damp air of threatening rain.
I’d evicted the rat-sized dust bunny from under the couch and stacked some books to hide the overlapping ring stains on the coffee table’s wood finish.
Even the kitchen came together. The garlic knots rose well despite cutting half the garlic from the recipe.
I added a pinch to the seasoning for the fish to tie everything together.
When Craig arrived, he was a little stiff to start but warmed up.
He hadn’t brought flowers but he had brought wine.
Thoughtful, but not coming on too strong.
And the conversation was nice. The picture was a surprise.
Craig was such a wrench-and-saw kind of guy, I never imagined him with a pencil.
But the technical detail in the stones and the bark of the tree was all him.
Good company, good words, and good food.
A perfect recipe for an excellent evening.
When I chose my underwear, I definitely thought about where the night might go.
Maybe even hoped for it. There was no way to ignore those repeating dreams. Especially since they kept coming until I acted on them, which left me sometimes with a sinister feeling of being manipulated.
But when Craig got up to go, I wasn’t ready for the evening to end, so I asked him to stay the night.
I liked how the lines of his chest muscles felt, the warm place they all came together.
His fingers sent my scalp tingling and I just wanted to feel his hands on the rest of me.
Clumsily my hands found the buttons to his shirt and I was able to undo them despite my mind rushing every time his mouth touched me.
Even with curtains over the picture window I couldn’t quite lose the feeling of some passerby watching us, so I pulled him back to my bedroom.
Despite my desires, having someone else in my home was unsettling, and a cold panic washed over me at the bedroom door.
Could I do this? Did I want to do this? Craig’s foot caught on the transition between the hallway’s hardwood floor and the bedroom’s carpet, and he stumbled into my arms where I caught him.
The warm memory of him half carrying me up the hillside rushed through me as I held him.
We were a pair, supporting each other. He had me and I had him.
The hot pulse of my heart burned away any doubt.
“I’ve got you,” I whispered to him.
Entangled, we made our way to my bed. He perched on its edge, just like the tree he’d drawn me, wind battered, but stretching upward from strong roots.
If I closed my eyes I could taste the salty ocean breeze on him.
Stepping closer, my bare foot brushed against his formidable shoes.
That wouldn’t do. Tracing the weave of his jeans against my fingertips, I knelt down to untie his laces.
One of the boots was harder to pull off.
When I wiggled it free, I found a hard black plastic support cupping his ankle and foot, running from the heel to his toes and up the back of his calf.
I’d seen it before at the gym, but only the upper portion.
Now it was naked and in my hand. I felt the space where the unyielding plastic met his foot, the warmth of him coming through the protection of his sock, but the brace itself still cool to the touch.
My fingers lingered on that, the cold edges butting up against his humanity.
Suddenly, I wanted him all. The brace’s velcro roared as I tore it open and set it aside.
Looking up into his half-closed blue eyes, my hands feeling the ligaments, bones, and tenderness of his foot, I asked, “Is that better?” For a moment his eyes were dewy, his nod sending waves of affection through me, then he blinked the moisture away.
The closeness of his skin now that he was shirtless and shoeless embarrassed me. Here I was undressing him in my house like some hussy. Pulling my shirt off over my head I evened things up, offering myself even as I demanded him. A step closer and things felt right again.
With a sharp intake of breath Craig lifted his head, “Uh, I need a moment.” He looked worried and I felt my body break like a deer had jumped across the road. What had I done? “Um, Bathroom?”
I wanted to laugh in relief, but instinctively knew that now was not the time to let a belly roaring chuckle loose, even if it was just my nerves trying to release tension. Instead, I nodded toward the shaker style door to the master bath, “Through there.”
The sounds through the door were utterly ordinary and I couldn’t help but listen.
The very ordinariness of the situation brought up the quiet calm of my dream feelings and I wondered if I should sit on the edge of my bed and wait for him.
But he wasn’t showering, and the light was wrong.
I also didn’t just want to act out some fantasy, I wanted real life.
Pushing the feeling of being a puppet away, I slipped off my skirt and climbed into my bed.
My bed, my rules, my choice. As I heard the squeak of the faucet turning off, I edged open my nightstand drawer. Okay, ready.
Craig opened the bathroom door, and I couldn’t help but superimpose my dream vision of him on his actual body as he stepped out. He looked just as nice in the shadowy light as in the bright morning sun in my head.
“I need to get something from my coat.”
The grin on my face felt funny, I couldn’t understand why it was there, possibly it was him thinking about the details, or my anticipating them. Pulling the comforter aside I said, “That’s okay, I’ve got some. Now come over here.”
He closed the distance between us and my hands melted against him.
My lips rested against the firm line where his pectoral muscles came together, in the hollow where his heart rested.
I felt more than heard Craig’s groan as the tremble in his lungs tickled my lips.
Working his belt open I reached for him. Here we go.
His scarred hands slid over my shoulders, cradling me as I cradled him. I leaned into him, my cheek touching his bare skin and I felt my weight shift as he began lowering me down onto the bed. Yes! My heart leaped.
I noticed the tiny sharp jerk of his body only in afterthought, but my hands recognized something had changed instantly, his warm invitation turning immediately cold. His curse was the only warning I had before he shoved me away, stumbling and crashing into the wall.
I bounced on the bed, my breath knocked loose and my legs flying. Craig lurched toward me with another curse and I raised my hands to shield my face. The blow didn’t come; instead, he grabbed his shoes and tumbled down the hallway, bouncing off the walls to stay upright.
Reflexively I chased him, and fell, tripping on my bedding and twisting my knee.
“Wait!” I shouted, not sure if I meant it, “What happened?” By the time I got to my feet the front door crashed closed.
It was only when I actually reached the door and began to turn the handle that I stopped.
The rain was loud and I was mostly naked and did I even want to catch him, now?
His truck roared awake, taking the choice away from me.
I stood as the splash of his headlights wheeled across my curtains, and then my legs gave out.
What the hell? Was I not what he expected?
Too fat? Not busty enough? Did I smell? Or did he change his mind and decide I wasn’t worth the effort?
The bottle of chardonnay still stood on the coffee table.
I crawled over to it and sucked the rest of the alcohol down, shaking like a junkie.
Damn him! Come into my house and eat my food and take me to my bed, and then throw me around like trash. Damn him!
Shivering as a deep clap of thunder rattled the windows, I pulled the throw blanket off the couch.
I couldn’t face the bedroom. The floor was cold against my skin and the throw wasn’t big enough to entirely wrap up in.
I settled for the couch and tried not to think about anything, not how wet my face was, or how sore my muscles were from sobbing, or how my chest hurt.
I didn’t think about anything for a long time.