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by Rachel De Lune

  “Only because you won’t tell me. Talk to me. You’ve completely closed up and I’ve only had the edited highlights of what happened between you Seb.”

  “If I try to explain, will you leave it?”

  “Maybe. You needed an intervention. Now talk.”

  She’ll never leave this. She’ll back me into a corner. Maybe talking this through, getting it all out in the open, can give me some peace and I can move on?

  “This is the bar Seb and I met in.”

  “This bar—this bar we’re in now?”

  “Jess!”

  “Okay, okay. I’m sorry.”

  “Yes, this bar. It’s where we would meet.”

  “And…”

  “And, we slept together, you know this. We weren’t just friends anymore. He showed me what being with someone who cared for me could be like. He gave me what I’d always been missing from a relationship… from sex. He gave me more. But I ruined it and he told me to go back to my marriage. It’s over. End of story.” I turn my head away from Jess and try not to have a meltdown at the words I’ve just spoken.

  “You love him, don’t you?” Her words hit me in the chest. I can’t lie to her. Not about this.

  “Yes.” I can’t look her in the eye.

  “Then why is it all over? I don’t understand.”

  “The last time we were together I did something stupid. We both hurt each other and didn’t talk it through. He asked me to leave. He sent me the flowers and a note and told me he wanted to be friends. I haven’t heard from him since. Now can we leave it? Please?” I drink my coffee far too quickly, turning my tongue numb with pain. I play with the napkin, folding it up and trying to occupy my hands. The loss I’ve felt since walking out on Seb is bubbling up and threatening to choke me from inside, and I feel trapped.

  “I’m sorry, Jess. I can’t be here just now. I need to go. Thanks, though… for today. Despite everything, I know you’re there for me, and it means a lot. I’ll make it up to you, I promise.” I almost trip over myself as I hurry out towards the door. I’m nearly running as I crash through the door and straight into someone entering.

  “Oh, I’m sorry.” I sniffle my apology, not looking up.

  “That’s quite alright… Isabel?”

  His voice. Smooth and rich and everything I’ve longed to hear. I would recognise it anywhere but I still can’t look up. I’m on the very edge tears as it is. I can’t break down in front of him. I can’t.

  “Izzy, are you okay?” Seb holds my shoulders now, keeping me standing, but I still haven’t raised my eyes.

  “Izzy, look at me.”

  Such a big part of me wants to follow his simple instruction. I can’t. I can’t let him see me like this. I can’t.

  “Look at me.” The rumble in his voice shifts the air around him. I’m falling apart in his arms, and he leaves me powerless to do anything but obey when he uses that voice. He helps by lifting my chin so I’m looking directly up into his eyes. That’s when all of my resolve falters and the first tear slips from my eye. Seb’s thumb eases it from my cheek and at that simple touch, that kind and gentle action, he melts me to my core. I can’t stop the tears now and I cling onto Seb for the support I need.

  “It’s okay. Let it all out.” Seb’s words seep through me, soothing my tortured mind. Strong arms close around me, cradling me to him, and I simply give up. I give in to the churning mass of emotions inside me.

  “What’s going on?” Jess’s no-nonsense voice breaks through my Seb armour.

  “It’s fine. I’ve got her.” Seb replies without missing a beat, before I get a chance to say anything.

  “And who are you?”

  “A friend. Who are you?”

  “You’re him, aren’t you? Seb.”

  “Yes. I told you, I’ve got her. She’s fine.”

  “I don’t think you’re anyone to judge that. Now leave her alone. Come on, Iz.”

  “Jess, “ I step back from Seb to look at her. “It is okay. Really.” I say it softly, without putting any conviction behind the words. It’s all I can manage, but I doubt that Jess will buy it.

  “No, it’s not okay. You’re crying and you’re in no fit state to know what you want. Now come on.” She begins to pull me away, but I don’t want to leave Seb.

  “Jess, please…”

  “Yes, I think you should listen to Isabel.”

  “Oh, wow! You’re the one who needs to leave. Have you any idea what you’ve put her through? You’ve no right to have anything to do with her.”

  “Isabel is perfectly safe with me, I assure you.”

  “Safe with you is a relative term. She’s emotionally broken.”

  “Enough!” I can’t stand here and let them bicker about me as though I’m not even here. I have to muster all of my courage to get this one sentence out. I turn to Jess and hope that she’ll understand.

  “Jess, I love you, but I’d like to talk with Seb. I’ll follow you home shortly.” It feels like I’m taking sides. Looking at Jess, I can tell she thinks I picked the wrong one.

  “Fine.” She doesn’t say anything more and turns to walk away. She’s done nothing but support me, and I’ve thrown that all back in her face. As much as I want to go after her and say sorry some more, Seb is standing in front of me, still holding onto me and providing the support to keep me standing. The irony that it’s his words he wrote on the card that have caused me to fall apart is not lost on me.

  I lower my eyes and stare at his chest.

  “Izzy, please look at me.”

  “Seb, I—”

  “Isabel, look at me.” He doesn’t force me this time, but he doesn’t need to. My eyes drift up to his. They are still the beautiful aquamarine I love gazing into, the same mix of blues and greens that sparkle and reassure me. My vision blurs as the tears fall.

  “Oh, Izzy. What’s wrong? ” He pulls me into him and places his arms around me in a soft embrace. He strokes my head as I weep onto his chest in the middle of the bar. He lets me cry, lets me have this moment. His hands run down my newly cut hair and it feels lovely.

  “You’ve cut your hair.”

  I nod against his chest.

  “Okay, we can talk about that later.”

  “What do you mean?” I look up at him and push back a little.

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to sound like that. I would like to talk, Izzy. Please?” I continue to stare up at him. Could I really cope with just being friends? Is this what he wanted to discuss? I hear the words from his card ring loud in my head. Only friends. Suddenly I don’t want to hear him say it to my face. In my chest throbs a deep pain that no amount of fake smiles can disguise. Will I feel like this every time I see him?

  “Seb, I’m not sure I can be just friends. There’s too much… I feel too much for you to forget and move on.” I start to back away. My thoughts make my stomach churn. I’m the one who is suddenly talking about cutting all ties. From the devastation I felt after reading his letter, I was sure that friendship would be better than not having him in my life. Now that I see him, I’m not sure.

  I love him. How can I pretend that I don’t feel that way about him and go about being friends? Coffee, the occasional dinner, text chats—I can’t do it. I continue my retreat.

  “Wait, Izzy, please. Forget about my note for a minute. Just talk to me.” He’s getting agitated. I can see it and I don’t want to fight again.

  His hands mess his hair, as if he’s fighting with himself, but I can’t stay to find out. Turning on my heel, I quicken my pace to the door. I make it a few steps down the street before my shoulder is pulled backwards and I’m stopped abruptly.

  “Isabel, no!” he shouts. “No. No running. If you won’t talk, then listen.”

  “Seb, please. I can’t…”

  “Shhh. Yes you can. I’m not letting you go. You can listen here on the street or back inside.”

  As much as it will hurt, listening to what he has to say might offer me some closure. I no
d my acquiescence and he grabs my hand to pull me back inside.

  He plonks me down at a table—the table we usually sat at—and takes the seat opposite me. I don’t say anything; I’m afraid I’ll tell him I love him and he’ll kindly dismiss it.

  “Izzy, I’m sorry.”

  “You’ve said that already. The flowers were lovely, thank you.”

  “Stop. I’m trying to tell you something, so be quiet,” he snaps back at me, and I recoil like a scolded child.

  “I… I can’t get you out of my mind. I’ve been visiting here for the last week just on the off chance I’d see you. I don’t want to lose you.”

  “I can’t fall back into just a friendship with you. I’m hurting. I know you’re sorry. I’m sorry too.” I start to stand but Seb grabs my shoulders to keep me sitting. He leans his forehead against mine and his hands cradle my face.

  “Spend the weekend with me?” The weekend? I try to stop my heart from soaring. This isn’t something that a friend would ask of another. I shake my head. I won’t survive being kicked out again. The last few weeks are proof of that.

  “Izzy, I ‘m ashamed at how I left things between us. I should never have gotten drunk and said such hateful things to you. Truthfully, I want a lot more than the occasional night with you. I want to explore what has already grown between us. The possibility of an us. There’s so much more.” He pulls away to look at me and a tiny smile creeps across my lips. As it does, his thumb brushes over it, closely followed by his lips.

  He kisses me hard and forces my compliance. I’ve lost. Almost as quickly as he started, he stops. He pulls me up and walks around the table to squeeze me tightly in an all-encompassing hold.

  “Come on. Before you change your mind.”

  “What? Wait. I can’t go now. What day is it, anyway?”

  “It’s Friday, and I’m taking you home.”

  Friday? Oh God, I’ve been such a mess I’ve even lost track of the days. He can’t take me home, though.

  “Can’t I meet you later?”

  “No. And I don’t mean your home. I mean mine.”

  “Oh. But I don’t have anything. I need to grab some things.”

  “No you don’t. I’ll take care of you. Come with me.”

  I’ll take care of you. How I’ve longed to hear those words, feel their meaning. After everything that has happened, he still wants me in his life. I love him. That hasn’t changed. Do I want to be asking myself ‘what if’ for the rest of my life? I already thought that would be my fate. Is it too much to hope that I can find happiness with this man? “Okay.” I say it before I talk myself out of it. I don’t want to think anymore. I want to feel. Seb smiles back at me and squeezes my hand. I want this—my heart wants this—I know that. But I won’t deny the part of me that’s scared of exactly where this may lead. I’m still a wreck, and one who hasn’t been to work in three weeks. I’m being trampled by my husband and I’m in love with another man.

  The journey back is quiet and tense. Seb constantly adjusts his position in his seat. When I think he’s finally comfy, his fingers start to drum on the steering wheel.

  We walk in to the lift. The silence is heavy.

  “How’s work?” Seb asks.

  “I’ve not been at work a lot. I’ve… had some time off.”

  The conversation dies before we reach his door. We’ve never been awkward around each other, and it feels alien.

  “Would you like a drink?”

  “Umm, tea, please.”

  He escorts me into the kitchen and I sit on a bar stool while Seb goes about making a pot of tea. I zone out. My head rings loudly with the alarms of what being here may bring. As I’m about to voice my troubles, Seb shocks me back into the present.

  “Izzy, I’m sorry for many things. I did mean what I said in the note. I never meant to take it further than you wished to go. You just…” he pauses, as if he’s searching for the right words to say. “With you… you completely give yourself to me. You trust me to bring you pleasure and pain, but safely and for our mutual benefit. And you want that for more than a quick scene or hook up.” His words aren’t anything new, but I feel how each one means something to him. He’s sharing a part of himself with me. “I’ve been able to take you further than I ever imagined you’d want to go. I got lost in you—in us. I shouldn’t have lost sight of your reactions to me. To what I was doing to your body. You didn’t use your safeword, but you are very new to this. I misjudged the situation. I’m not proud of my behaviour afterwards. I pride myself on being a caring and considerate Dom, and I was everything but. Will you forgive me?”

  I can see this is hard for him. His face is etched with the pain and worry of all the words he’s spoken. I know that he is utterly sincere. But I’m as much to blame as he is, and I can’t let him take the responsibility for this alone. I have to explain my feelings to him.

  “Yes, of course I forgive you.” I turn so I’m facing him. “It was all… all too much. I’m sorry. I forgot about my safeword. I didn’t mean to. It was all so… intense. It felt different from the other times we were together. I’m sorry I reacted so hysterically. When I came to my senses, I wanted to talk to you about what had happened. I wanted to understand. I found you drunk in the living room. You threw me out after smashing a bottle against the wall. I didn’t know what to think. All I got was one text that said, ‘I’m sorry’.” I don’t hold back. “I wouldn’t have run, but you pushed me out. You crushed me.” My words hit us both. Even though I’ve felt everything I’ve said, saying it out loud slices through my heart again.

  “I was furious with myself. I’d fucked up. I’d lost control in the moment. That has never happened to me before, and it shook me. I was angry and I shouldn’t have taken it out on you when you came to find me.” Seb pauses to pour the tea and he joins me at the breakfast bar. We aren’t looking at each other, just facing forward in silence.

  We’ve both said our piece but where does it leave us? Regret is heavy in the air between us. Although we’re talking, the earlier tension hasn’t abated.

  “I’d like it if we can relax over the weekend. A bath might help you with that?”

  “A bath? On my own?”

  “Yes. Let me take care of you. I’d like to do something to make you feel good.”

  “Okay.” I turn to smile warmly at him. This I can do. I can cope with a bath.

  Ten minutes later, Seb has run a deep bubble bath. Citrus and floral scents fill the steam in the bathroom. I’m suddenly feeling shy. I look at him and raise my eyebrow, trying to indicate my hesitancy.

  He shuts the door behind him and I smile to myself. I undress and lower myself into the bubbles. The heat instantly relaxes my body. Two weeks of sleepless nights and tension gang up on me and I doze off.

  “Izzy, are you alright in there?” Seb’s voice drifts into my consciousness and I wake with a small splash.

  “Um… yes. Give me a few minutes. ” I quickly wash my hair, having already ruined the salon effect, and pull myself from the bath and smother myself in a robe. I crack the door to find Seb waiting patiently for me.

  “I must have dozed off. Sorry.”

  “Please don’t be sorry. It’s been a hard day.” He offers me his hand and I gingerly place mine in his. He pulls me forward and into the lounge, where we sit on the sofa.

  “You used to like me playing with your hair. Let me brush it for you.” He twists in his seat and I position myself so my back is to him. He slowly and methodically pulls the comb through my tresses, gently tugging at the few knots at the end. Sure and confident fingers replace the comb and begin to massage my scalp, and my head lolls from side to side with pleasure. A cat-like purring escapes my throat.

  “You like?”

  “I love. Thank you.”

  “You are very welcome. Why did you get your hair cut?”

  Oh no—he doesn’t like it! I remember my thoughts as I sat in the chair at the salon. I never even considered that I would be back in Seb’s c
ompany so soon. If at all.

  “Well, it wasn’t really my idea, and I didn’t think it mattered anymore.” I shrug a little, hoping he’ll sense that I don’t want to go into the details.

  “I don’t understand.”

  I let out a sigh. “Jess dragged me out of bed to get it cut. It was her ‘intervention’, as she put it. New hair, new me, I suppose. I let her do it. And I didn’t really think I needed to keep it long. You said things were over. Friends don’t get to decide on the length of the other’s hair. Well, apart from Jess… You know what I mean.”

  “Relax. I like your hair and it’s still long enough to tie up… ” He doesn’t ask the question but leaves the meaning clear. The unspoken words fill the air with tension. I want him to reassure me. To be clear that after all our apologies there is still an us.

  “We’ll take things slowly, but I’d like to continue our relationship. I think you’d like that too.” He knows what I’m going to say, what my answer is. I wouldn’t be here with him if I was unsure. My current feelings for Seb dwarf what I felt the first time I came here. Excitement and exhilaration have been replaced with love and affection. The nerves are still there, though.

  It is nice to feel something other than numb—all I’ve been managing recently.

  After ensuring my hair is tangle-free, Seb pulls me around and into an embrace. I relax into it—into Seb—and let him comfort me and hold me. I instantly feel cared for. We sit, wrapped in each other’s arms, for what feels like hours. Then I look up and notice one of the beautiful women artfully posed in black and white on his wall.

  “Can I ask you a question?”

  “Of course you may. Anything.”

  “The photographs. Why all of the photographs of women?” I try to make my question sound more ‘interested’ than ‘jealous/paranoid’.

  “I admire the female form, Izzy. I think it’s a beautiful thing.”

  Are all of these photos girlfriends he’s tied up and spanked—women he’s helped to explore their sexual desires? I know it’s my insecurities getting to me, but I’m always insecure. I can’t help it, especially now.