Ask Me Again

by E. J. Noyes

  “Please do, sweetheart. Call me whenever you want, no matter the time. I just want you to talk to me.”

  “I promise,” she said, and for the first time in a long time I felt the conviction behind her words.

  “Will you be home for dinner tomorrow night?”

  “Mhmm.” She moved as though she was going to touch me, then hesitated and glanced away. We never parted without a hug or kiss, usually both, and now it seemed she thought I didn’t want her to touch me, or I her.

  “Sabine, look at me.” When she finally raised her eyes to mine, I held them for a long moment then stepped forward, drawing her into my arms. “I’m not afraid of you, and I will never stop wanting you to touch me.” I held her close, felt her arms steal around my waist and her cheek come to rest on my temple.

  She sagged against me, her breathing short and shallow. “I just need to ask you one more time, Bec. I need you to wait for me to catch up again. I promise, this is the last time.”

  “I’ve already told you, whatever you need to ask of me and however many times you ask it, I will always say yes.” I kissed her, lingering against the soft fullness of her mouth. “This isn’t a breakup. It’s not a separation or a split. It’s just taking a little time to get things in order. We are still very much together on this.”

  Sabine’s exhalation was long, the relief palpable as though a bundle of worry left her in that one breath. “Okay.”

  I raised my chin. Despite everything, I found her in those dark, emotion-filled eyes. “A few years before we met, I took an overseas vacation and visited the Old Man of Storr, on the Isle of Skye in Scotland. Do you know it?”

  Sabine shook her head.

  “You’ve probably seen pictures at home and not realized. It’s basically this big rock at the edge of a cliff by the sea that you can see for miles. He just stands there alone, weathering every storm by himself. Never moves, never breaks, never falters.”

  “Okaaay. But…it’s a rock, honey. Rocks don’t move.”

  I smiled, well aware that I was taking a long and roundabout way to say what I wanted. “What I’m trying to say is that you don’t have to do that, darling. You don’t have to stand there and be battered day in and day out. When it gets too much, remember you can come down and shelter in our harbor and we will always be there for you, no matter what. Because we love you. Because I love you.”

  “I know. I love you too,” she whispered.

  “Good. Remember that. Trust it.” I drew my thumb down her cheek, then turned and walked out the door.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Sabine

  You are not swallowing The Incident. You are just swallowing a pill. A very helpful one. Nothing to it. Zoloft’s active ingredient is sertraline hydrochloride. Chemical formula C-seventeen…H-seventeen…ah, fuck it. I palmed the pill into my mouth and swallowed it with a gulp of water. Done. Now get to work, medication, I’ve got a whole bunch of things I need to fix.

  When I made my way into the kitchen, Jana already had coffee brewed and was making breakfast. Dressed in running tights and a tank top under a linen hoodie, she was unusually perky for six thirty a.m. Suspicious. She stood at the stove, a foot resting on the opposite knee as she watched an egg sizzling in the frying pan. Jana glanced at me as I approached, but mercifully left the How are you? unsaid.

  I fixed myself coffee then plonked down at the head of her table. “Did you already go to the gym?” Things didn’t compute. One, I hadn’t even heard her leave the house and two, Jana disliked early morning gym sessions, deeming them too busy and full of the ultra-fit.

  “Mhmm. I heard morning spin class got a hot new instructor and I wanted to see for myself.” She juggled whole wheat toast from the toaster onto a plate then passed it to me, along with a jar of peanut butter.

  “Thanks. I can’t believe I didn’t hear you leave.” That she’d left me alone was strangely comforting. My sister didn’t think I was a danger to myself—score one for mental health.

  “I’m not surprised. I heard you wandering around well after midnight. Did you get any sleep?” Jana sat to my right, with the same breakfast she’d been eating for the past twenty years—coffee, one piece of toast, one fried egg, fruit salad with yogurt. And people said I was rigid.

  “Some.” Some meaning barely. Bec had left around nine, and after sprawling on the couch trying and failing to tame my thoughts, I’d given myself a pep talk, gulped down my first dose of Prazosin and gone to bed for some more insomnia. Around one a.m., I’d emailed Gavin to tell him what’d happened—the bare bones but truthful version—and a sad but sweetly supportive response had been waiting for me when I’d checked my email before stumbling out of bed. My sleep had been fitful, broken constantly by the realization that I was alone. Then I’d remember why, and the anxiety would start all over again.

  “Some isn’t a quantifiable measure,” Jana countered.

  I raised a shoulder in a got me shrug then shifted my concentration to spreading peanut butter over both slices of toast. I cut each into two inexact triangles. Anxiety level? Four out of ten. There are worse things than uneven triangles. “So was this instructor worth getting out of bed at zero dark?”

  Jana let out a low whistle. “Oh boy, and then some.”

  “You’re terrible.”

  She stabbed her egg, letting bright yellow yolk spread over her plate like lava. “My life is full of simple pleasures. Checking out cute guys in spin-class shorts, nice wine, binge-watching trashy television, eviscerating opposing counsel when they’ve insisted we go to court, spending time with you.”

  “I’m glad to know I rate on your list, even if it is at the bottom.”

  She gave me a sweet smile, ate a mouthful of her breakfast then pointed her fork at me. And here we go. “How long are you planning on staying here? Not that I haven’t enjoyed our little sleepover, despite the fact there was no hair braiding or nail painting. But Bec came to see you last night, Sabs. She’s still here supporting and loving you, so you know, obviously she’s okay with being around you.”

  I wrapped my hands around my coffee mug. “I don’t know, as long as I need to be here.”

  “Sure… Obviously you can stay as long as you want to, but at some stage you’re going to have to go home, Sabbie. You can’t stay away forever, unless you’re done.”

  “No, I’m not fucking done,” I snapped. I was nowhere near done.

  Both Jana’s hands came up. “Okay, okay. Good.”

  “I just need some time to make sure I’m not going to hurt her.” I shifted uncomfortably. Was I the only person who saw how fucked up what I’d done was? “And yeah, I know the chances of me doing it again are practically nonexistent because the gun is gone, and now I’m drugging my brain into submission. I know the chances of me sleep-walking, or sleep-whatevering down to the kitchen for a knife is improbable. And I know that me choking her or smothering her and all that other stuff is so unlikely it’s not even worth mentioning. And even if I somehow did that, I know Bec could defend herself or immobilize me.” Defend. Immobilize. Not words that should be applied to your girlfriend.

  “Relax, I get it. But, Sabbie, this kind of feels like cause and effect. And you’ve got it back to front. You’re so focused on the effect that you’re not thinking about fixing the cause. If you want to fix it, you need to start having actual honest discussions with her. You can’t do that if you’re avoiding her.”

  I gritted my teeth. Beethoven, Bec, skiing, beach vacation, sunrise over the pasture behind my parents’ house. Inhale. Let it out. “I fucking know, all right? But…what if, Jannie? What if I snap again? I can’t be one hundred percent certain right now and the anxiety associated with that notion is far, far greater than making sure Bec is safe.”

  Her eyebrows rose in acknowledgement then, watching me the whole time, she ate a bite of toast and followed it with a forkful of egg. Her swallow was slow. A gulp of coffee chased the mouthful down. My courtroom sister was master of the dramatic pause. F
inally, she got around to saying, “I get it, Sabs, but I still think you’re reaching for things that aren’t there to use as excuses because you’re afraid.”

  “Of course I’m afraid!”

  “No. Not of doing it again, but of finally having to face this for real. Of having to admit out loud that you’re not perfect.”

  “I—” I blew out a breath. “I don’t know what I’m afraid of exactly.” I just knew that I was terrified. I stared at my toast. Thought about how much I didn’t feel like eating. Remembered Bec’s words. I just want you to be healthy. Then I took a bite, swallowing before I could have a feeling about it.

  “You know I’ll support you no matter what. I love you.” Jana swapped empty plate for full bowl. “Sabs, last night, did you tell Bec what you told me? About how it freaks you out that she was the one to, you know.” Jana made a stitching motion.

  I shook my head. No way, no how could I bring that up now. Or maybe even ever.

  “I swear to God, you two are so busy trying to protect each other from your own feelings about that whole damned thing that you’re hurting each other instead.”

  “What do you mean?” When she didn’t answer, a surge of annoyance made my jaw muscles twitch. “Quit screwing around, Jana, and tell me. My patience is worn so thin it’s almost fucking transparent.”

  Jana raised her head, staring up at the ceiling for a few seconds before the stare came to my face. “You’re always trying to help Bec, to make sure she’s okay and not worrying about you, but, Sabbie it kind of feels like at the moment it’s at the expense of your own mental health. And the same for her.”

  I huffed. I supposed Jana kind of knew what she was talking about, being that she was a therapy veteran and attended sessions at least once a week. She always told me if something bothered her and never seemed to have any major emotional issues. I guess talking about your feelings helps. Good thing I’m working on doing that. “Maybe you’re right. But I love her, and I don’t want her to worry.”

  “She’s going to worry no matter what. So am I. That’s just part of loving someone. You need to talk to her, Sabs. And maybe stop to ask a question or two about how she feels about what happened.” Jana looked suddenly guilty, the twist of her mouth telling me very clearly that she thought she’d already said too much.

  “I know how she feels. Upset, but so goddamned accepting, as usual. I wish she’d show some anger or upset or something. It’d make the whole thing easier than her constant kindness and understanding.” Not that I wanted us to have another argument, but Bec holding this inside felt like too much control and made me wonder if everything would just explode from her one day.

  “No, not about the gun thing, Sabbie. About what happened before.”

  About what happened before. Before…as in way before, as in The Incident? I’d never really considered anything other than that Bec was upset because I’d been hurt. What other feeling could she possibly have?

  Jana shrugged, though the gesture seemed more a forced affectation than actual nonchalance. “Look, listen to me or don’t but seriously, you need to go home.”

  “I’m going home tonight.” To gauge how I felt about being in that space with Bec, and how anxious sleeping there would make me feel.

  “Going to your house to have dinner with your girlfriend is not the same as going home.”

  “Semantics.” Elbows on the table, I rested my face in my hands. My admission came out muffled. “I hate this. I hate being like this. I hate feeling like a disappointment to Mom and Dad. I hate that you and Bec have to deal with this shit. I hate the fact that it’s taken so long for me to figure myself out, and I really really fucking hate the fact that I pointed a loaded weapon at my girlfriend.”

  “Oh, Sabs. You’re not a disappointment, you’ve never been that. God, you’re such an idiot sometimes.”

  No shit, Jana. I sniffed. Oh great, crying. Again.

  She set down her spoon and reached for my hand. “You know what would disappoint them? You giving up.”

  “I’m not going to do that,” I said, my tears not stifling the indignation.

  “Good. Then for the last fucking time, go home to Bec. You don’t have to stay there, but you do have to talk to her and be honest.”

  I bent my head to wipe my eyes on my shoulder, unable to answer with anything other than a nod.

  We were quiet for a few minutes, Jana vigorously eating the remainder of her breakfast and me not so vigorously eating mine. She slid her empty bowl aside to join her empty plate and reached for her coffee. “Speaking of Mom and Dad, have you told them what happened?”

  “Not yet. I guess I’ll call today sometime.” Hi Mom, Dad. Totally love you both, but also…I’m kinda messed up, but it’s all okay because now I’m going to really try not to be. Oh, and also while I’m at it, sorry about the grandkids thing but you’re flogging a dead horse and it’s stressing me out. Bug Jana.

  Perfect.

  * * *

  Bec rummaged through the pantry and fridge, setting things for dinner on the counter while I forced Titus to cuddle me before I fed him. I’d arrived only a few minutes after Bec, and she was still in the blouse and skirt with low heels combo she usually wore to work. She seemed subdued, not upset or wary but more contemplative. Good sign?

  “How was your day?” I asked as I slid the kibble container back onto a high pantry shelf.

  “Unusually quiet. I actually managed to get caught up on some paperwork.”

  “Lucky.” I scooted past her to wash my hands. “Has Titus Maximus Felix been behaving himself?”

  “As much as is possible for him. He slept on my neck last night.” Bec glanced up, a smile already on her lips. She wore pale pink lipstick, and I knew she’d have reapplied it before leaving work. Just as I knew she had reapplied the perfume that lingered in the air, familiar and comforting. Suddenly all I could think of was how good she’d smell if I got even closer, and the way she would sometimes leave lipstick on my skin.

  She touched my shoulder. “How about you? How was your day?”

  “It was…full of television and naps. But I went for a walk this afternoon to the bookstore.”

  “Sounds like a lovely way to spend a day.” Bec tilted her head, her left eyebrow slightly raised. “Did you want a glass of wine?”

  “No thank you. I started my medication.” After a beat, I confirmed, “Prazosin last night and then Zoloft this morning.”

  “How are you feeling?” The question was careful but she couldn’t disguise her interest.

  “Like my serotonin is being selectively inhibited,” I said dryly.

  Bec showed her dimples. “That must be some super-duper SSRI if it’s working already.” The dimples faded as she sobered. “You know what I mean. Are you okay?”

  “Yeah, it was fine. Once I shut my brain up. I didn’t dream last night but I think that’s more because I didn’t really sleep, rather than medication.” I had to turn away from her, knowing I’d cry if I had to look at her sweet, hopeful expression a moment longer. I dipped into my jeans pockets to empty them of whatever I’d absently put in there during my day. A handful of coins, gum, a leaf that was in the middle of changing color and couldn’t decide if it wanted to be green, yellow or red.

  I held the leaf out to Bec and she took it with a quiet, “Thank you. It’s pretty.” She cleared her throat, set the leaf down beside the sink as though it was something precious, and passed me a small stack of envelopes. “Here’s your mail from today.”

  “Thanks.” I quickly sorted through the stack, saw nothing important and left the letters in the mail bowl to deal with another day.

  Bec stared at my unopened mail, then turned away to pull a paper-wrapped package from the fridge. “I have steaks. Can you grill?”

  Wrapped in a coat and scarf, I barbequed on the back porch while Bec made salad, set the table and occasionally came to the back door with apparently no other purpose than to watch me. Despite all that’d happened in the past fort
y-eight hours, there still seemed to be an easiness between us. An easiness that I realized had been absent since I’d come home from Afghanistan.

  I set down the tongs. “Is it just me, or does this kinda feel like a date? Like I’m trying to impress you by demonstrating I can cook steak exactly how you want it, and you’re trying to win me over with your mastery of dessert.”

  Bec crossed the deck, peering at the thick steaks I was watching carefully. “It does a little, doesn’t it?”

  “FYI, babe, your desserts would win anyone over.”

  She smiled, leaning in to kiss me. The gesture was so automatic that I barely gave it a thought as I moved to meet her halfway. At the last moment she hesitated, her eyes flicking up to mine. I closed the inch between us, letting our lips brush in a brief, soft kiss. I couldn’t help myself, moving to kiss her jaw, then her neck and just under her ear to indulge in the scent I knew I’d find there.

  A low groan built at the back of my throat, and I had to force myself to take a step back. Less than twenty-four hours of separation and my libido had flipped from “there but cautious” to “absolutely raging”. Brilliant. And strange. Probably some weird reverse psychology thing.

  There was the slightest flush on her neck and cheeks, and I drew in a long, steadying breath. I wanted nothing more than to kiss her again and had little doubt of where it would lead. Sex, while undoubtedly pleasurable, felt like an unneeded complication at the moment. Especially when I wasn’t one hundred percent sure how I would react. When I felt somewhat controlled, I turned my attention back to dinner, and over my shoulder said, “We never really dated, did we?” We’d worked together for years, before a sudden switch from commanding officer and subordinate to lovers, then moved in together after The Incident.

  “Not really, no,” Bec murmured. “Are these impressive steaks almost done?”

  I stared, prodded, assessed before declaring, “Another forty-one seconds.”

  “You geek.” She kissed me again, quickly and unhesitatingly this time and left me to finish up.