by Sarah Hill
Maysen shook his head and stood up, taking his glass to the sink. “It doesn’t matter.”
“Yes, it does,” she said, her heart breaking.
“I guess the secret’s out. Now you have confirmation that I’m not worth fighting for,” he said, rinsing his glass and laughing.
“Oh, Maysen. Is that what you think?” she asked, standing up.
Leaning his hands against the sink he bowed his head and let out a hollow laugh. “What’s that old saying? The proof’s in the pudding?”
Rylie walked over to the counter and stood next to him. Putting her hand on his shoulder, she said, “No, Maysen. You’re worth so much more than you’ve been given. I hate that you hurt and I hate even more that I caused some of your pain and can’t fix it.”
He turned to look at her, his eyes full of hunger and said, “You can.” He pushed off the sink and took her face in his hands.
Rylie put her hands over his and whispered, “I don’t want to hurt you, but I’m going home to Spencer.”
“I already hurt,” he said, lowering his mouth and pressing his lips against hers.
Rylie tried to pull back, but his hands pressed the against the back of her head and held her in place. As the kiss deepened, a war erupted between her head and her heart. The memory of his lips surged through her as recollections of similar occasions swept through her mind. Make out sessions in her room, outside the hay barn and being in the treehouse flashed through her mind as she wrapped her arms around him and gave in to the touch her body craved.
Maysen gently pushed her back against the wall as his kisses intensified. Relaxing in his arms she let out a sigh as he nipped at her neck. “Do you want me to stop?” he asked, his breath warm against her ear.
His voice sent shivers down her body and she shook her head as she closed her eyes and bit at his bottom lip.
Hesitating, he pulled away and in a husky voice, he asked, “Rylie, do you still love me?”
She opened her eyes and she frowned trying to gather the thoughts that were scattered in the rush of blood filling her head. She was finding it hard with the distraction of his warm body pressed against hers.
“Tell me you still love me and I’ll carry you into that room right now,” he said.
“I…,” she whispered, the brain fog forcing her to stumble for words. “I don’t know.”
Shaking his head, Maysen pushed off the wall and backed away. Leaning against the sink with his arms crossed, he looked down at his feet and sighed. “I wouldn’t be able to look myself in the mirror afterwards if I thought you regretted it.”
Rylie pulled herself from the wall, forcing her legs to take her to the kitchen table and sit down. “Oh, my god, Maysen. I’m so sorry,” she said, dropping her face into her hands.
She heard a chair being drug across the floor and she felt him sit down next to her. “It’s not your fault. I initiated it and I promised you I wouldn’t unless you wanted me to. I’m sorry.”
She turned her head, laying it on her arms and looked up at him. “I just cheated on my husband,” she said, her voice cracking.
Maysen shook his head and said, “No, you didn’t.”
“I wouldn’t have stopped you, Maysen. I cheated on him. I wasn’t even thinking about Spencer. I wanted you to keep going.” The hollow roughness in her voice sounded so foreign to her.
He looked at her with a raised eyebrow. “You wouldn’t have stopped me?”
“I don’t think I would have,” she said, her shoulders sagging. “I’m not saying I wouldn’t have regretted it, but I haven’t felt that out of control for a long time.”
“Spencer doesn’t make you feel that way?”
“He does, but we’re always so busy,” she said, swallowing and meeting his gaze. “It’s been a while.”
“After all these years. It’s nice to know I can still make you feel that way.”
Rylie bowed her head. “You shouldn’t make me feel that way. Thank you for stopping,” she said, looking up. “Why did you?”
“I won’t go back to you hating me, Rylie. If you want this, I want you to be sure.”
“I can’t say I don’t, but I know I want Spencer more.”
Pressing his lips together, he nodded. “Okay. I guess I better go. I’ll see you later,” he said, standing up.
“Maysen, wait,” she almost shouted, grabbing his arm and standing. She knew she’d regret stopping him, but she knew she’d also regret it if she didn’t.
Stopping, he looked down at her hand and put his hand on top of hers. He peered into her eyes as if searching for a sign. The sadness she saw in his eyes gutted her.
She loved Spencer, but she couldn’t allow Maysen to feel like he didn’t matter. “Kiss me one more time,” she said, touching his cheek and adding, “please.”
His hesitation only lasted seconds before he pulled her against him again. His hunger was evident in the forceful way he kissed her. Rylie wound her fingers into his hair, matching his kisses with the same desire he was showing her. He picked her up and she wrapped her legs around his waist as he sat her on the counter, their kisses deepening.
Breaking away from her, he leaned his forehead against hers and whispered, “I love you, girl. Say you love me too.”
“I do love you, Maysen,” she said, breathing hard. She pressed her lips together and feeling the burn his mouth left on hers.
“Enough to stay?” he asked.
“I’m going to have Spencer come out with Alex. Being here with you is blurring my love for him and the life we have. I need him here to figure things out.”
“Okay. Do you need me to do anything?” he asked, kissing her forehead.
“Just give me time.”
October 17, 2010
After the incident in the kitchen, Maysen kept his distance. He didn’t visit Del in the hospital, choosing to wait until they brought her home Wednesday afternoon. His truck was in the driveway when Norm pulled in and Rylie felt her heart skip. She hadn’t seen him since Monday and she wasn’t sure she wanted their first time since then to be in front of her adoptive parents.
“I had Maysen bring over the hospital bed I rented from the medical supply place,” he said, looking at Rylie. “I figured it’d make things easier on the old gal.”
“I heard that!” Del grumbled from the back seat where she was propped up with pillows.
“Good idea,” Rylie said, giving Norm a wink. She got out of the car and saw Maysen hurrying down the sidewalk. Her stomach lurched when he nodded in her direction.
Maysen helped Norm lift Del out of the car and into her wheelchair. Norm started rolling her down the sidewalk, while Maysen grabbed their suitcases from the trunk and followed them into the yard.
Del looked back at Rylie and yelled, “Are you just going to stand there catching flies with your mouth or are you gonna come in?” Rylie jumped and Maysen looked back at her, smirking before following them inside.
Exhaling, she grabbed her purse from the car and shut the door. She took her time latching the gate, trying to think of something to say to Maysen and came up with nothing. She smacked into him as she turned from the gate, losing her balance and almost falling
“Whoa, easy there,” Maysen said, steadying her.
“Oh,” she said, looking at the ground and blushing. “I didn’t see you there.”
“You were taking longer than Del liked, so she sent me out here to make sure you hadn’t run away.”
“Nope, still here,” she said, with a thin smile.
“How’ve you been the last couple days?” he asked, his hand brushing hers as they walked towards the house.
“Good,” she said, her head bobbing. “You?”
“Busy.”
“I bet. Well, thank you for helping out today,” she said, tucking her hair behind her ear.
“It’s what I do,” he said, a small smile on his face.
“I suppose you’re responsible for this?” she asked, motioning towards a piece of ply
wood set over the stairs as a ramp.
“Guilty. I figured this way Del wouldn’t have to try climbing them.”
“Thank you, again.”
“Sure,” he said, pausing at the door. “So, is your family heading this way?”
“They’ll be here tomorrow. I pick them up at the airport at two,” she answered, nodding.
“Did you want company?”
“No,” she said, a little too quickly. “It’s just that I think I better go alone. I haven’t seen them all week.”
“I get it. Well, I guess we better get in there and help Norm out,” he said, opening the screen door. “After you.”
Maysen stayed to set up the bed in the living room and get Del settled. Del was being her feisty self and when Maysen said he was going to head out, she stopped him in his tracks.
“You aren’t going anywhere,” she said, accepting the hug he gave her as he said his goodbyes.
Cocking an eyebrow at her he asked, “Was there something else you needed?”
“You’re staying for dinner, young man,” she said, returning the cocked eyebrow.
Looking towards the kitchen, he replied, “Del, nobody’s cooked dinner, but I don’t mind running into town to get you something if you need it.”
“If I wanted takeout, I’d send Rylie. I want a home cooked meal. All I’ve had for over a week is Jell-O and unidentifiable mush. There’s food in the freezer and pantry.”
Standing up straight, he glanced over at Norm, who shrugged. “Okay. Would you like me to cook your dinner?”
“Why thank you, Maysen. What a grand gesture!” she said, smiling. “Rylie will help you, won’t you sweetheart?”
“Uhm, yeah.” Looking at Maysen’s tired face she said, “Maysen, you’ve had a long day. I can cook dinner. You go get some rest.”
“I don’t mind helping. I’d have to cook when I got home anyway,” he said, rolling up the sleeves of his button-down shirt and heading to the kitchen.
“Okay,” she said, following him into the kitchen. He was already going through the cupboards looking for ingredients. Pausing in the doorway, she watched him as the lean muscles worked under his tan arms. He was quite the sight.
As he walked toward the fridge he stopped, noticed her gaze and asked, “Something wrong?”
“No,” she said, snapping out of her day dream, then added, “I’m just impressed with the way you take charge and go.”
“Things don’t get done by standing around. I’m a busy guy,” he said, opening the fridge.
“I said I’d cook dinner, Maysen. You don’t have to stay,” she said, making sure her voice was gentle so her words weren’t taken in an offensive way.
Maysen found some pork chops and took the package out of the fridge. He came back around the table and stopped in front of her. “I know, but this way I get a little more time with you.” He leaned forward and peeked into the living room. Norm was in the chair next to the hospital bed, flipping through channels. Leaning back, he looked at her with a smile and leaned in, giving her a soft kiss. “Any time with you is a plus.” He smiled and plopped the pork chops onto the counter.
Unable to keep the smirk off her face, she joined him at the counter and asked, “What can I help with?”
“How are you at chopping?” he asked.
“I’ve won a few awards.”
“Do you mind chopping up some garlic and onions? Maybe peeling some potatoes?” he asked, as he seasoned the pork chops.
“I can do that,” she replied. She went outside and walked down the small path to the root cellar to get what he needed. As she descended the cement stairs, the wet moldy smell she remembered from her childhood met her nose.
Reaching the bottom, she pulled a string that hung above her and the light clicked on. She looked around the tiny room, the water draining from the earth surrounding the cellar trickled its way down the walls. The constant dampness it created caused mold and algae to cling to the walls producing the odor from her memory. Smiling to herself, she turned to Del’s shelves. As anticipated, they were full of canned goods. She ran her fingers over some of the dusty lids of the mason jars as she made her way to the vegetable bins. The garlic she needed hung from a string against the wall. Plucking a cluster from the dried stems, she turned to the onions and potatoes which were piled in wooden bins against the cement wall. She grabbed an onion and filled her arms with potatoes, turning off the light and made her way back up the stairs.
Realizing she’d need help opening the screen door. She smooshed her face against the screen and called, “Hey Mayse! Will you open the door, please?”
He came around the corner, wiping his hands on a towel and swung the door open with a gentle kick. “Del has a basket for that, you know,” he said, smirking.
“A little late now,” she grumbled.
“Since your arms are occupied you won’t be able to stop me from doing this,” he said, putting a hand behind her neck and pulling her face towards him. His warm lips covered hers and they shared a kiss more intense than the one he gave her moments earlier. His breath tasted like wintergreen gum and she pulled away with a small laugh.
“Was it that bad?” he asked.
“No,” she laughed again. “You used to chew wintergreen gum when you planned on kissing me. I expected a make out session when I saw you pop a stick of gum in your mouth.”
Chuckling, he shook his head and stepped aside to allow her entrance. “You never told me you had me figured out.”
“It made me smile. Plus, I like wintergreen,” she said, walking past him and into the kitchen. After dumping the potatoes into the sink, she took the onion and garlic to the cutting board.
Maysen went back to the pork chops. “I have a whole pack of wintergreen gum in my pocket,” he said, in a low voice.
Rylie laughed as she minced a few cloves of garlic. The ease she was feeling with Maysen was both thrilling and unnerving. She hadn’t felt this free and young in a long time. It gave her the same exhilarating feeling she felt when they went cliff jumping back when they were in high school. It also had her feeling guilt in the pit of her stomach.
Maybe she was reacting to being back home, but she was afraid it was because of the way Maysen was making her feel. She loved Spencer and she knew he loved her, but their sex life wasn’t as passionate as it was when they were younger. Life got in the way and the romance and passion they once felt ended up taking a backseat to work, bills and Alex.
Setting the garlic aside, she reached for the onion and sliced it open. The tear-inducing aroma hit her in the face, stinging her eyes as she continued cutting. She thought about her life and how the busyness made her happy. Failing to recognize the obvious hole that a dispassionate relationship left. Tears rolled down her cheeks as the onion’s fumes stung her eyes. Sniffing, she wiped her eyes and cheeks off with her arm.
“Hey, are you okay?” Maysen asked. His hand lightly grazed her back. Her pulse quickened and she stopped breathing for a moment.
Finally exhaling, she laughed and said, “Yeah. I’m good. This onion is pretty potent.”
“Oh,” he said, leaning back and wrinkling his nose. “Yes, it is. You want me to take over?”
“I’ve got it. I’ve never met an onion I couldn’t dice.”
“Okay, I’ll start peeling potatoes. I’ll let the pork chops sit until you’re done,” he said, his hand lightly caressing her hip as he walked away.
Feeling the tingle of goosebumps go down her spine made her search her memory for the last time Spencer’s touch had created the same sensation. It must have been during their last anniversary. He took her to a bed and breakfast in upstate New York. It was a camp made up of seven large glamping tents. Each tent was set up sporadically throughout a beautiful forest of maple and oak trees. Not far from the forest was a gorgeous lake which all the tents faced. They watched the sun rise over the lake on the morning of their anniversary. It was a beautiful moment that filled her heart past its capacity. She burst w
ith happiness as they made love into the late morning hours. It was one the happiest days of her life.
As much as she loved Alex, those rare moments alone with her husband made the world go round. Smiling at the memory, she sighed. It showed how big their love was, even if time prevented it being very often. The feelings she was having around Maysen were superficial, she was sure of it. The memory of their young love was clouding her judgment.
“You’re awful quiet over there,” Maysen said, his deep voice interrupting her thoughts.
She looked over at him as he peeled potatoes. He was such a good man and deserved better than the cards he’d been dealt. “Just thinking,” she said with a smile. “These are done. Did you want me to take over peeling or start sautéing?”
He held up the knife and said, “You can take over. My hide is stronger than yours if the grease pops.”
“My skin is stronger than you know, but I’ll take over,” she said, taking the knife and grabbing a potato.
Maysen took the onion and garlic over to the pan and turned on the burner to melt the butter already in the pan. “Do you cook meat and potato, stick to your ribs type of dinners back home?” he asked, as the smell of the sautéing vegetables wafted through the air.
“Not a lot. We have meat and veggies, but it’s not often we do potatoes. They’re a little heavy. We allow Alex special dinners, like pizza and corn dogs from time to time. So, we have to cut something out to make up for it.”
“Potatoes aren’t one of Alex’s favorites?”
“He’s a kid,” she said pausing from peeling and looking up. “He isn’t choosing potatoes over pizza.”
“I loved potatoes as a kid. Of course, I grew up on a ranch where pizza was so rare, I didn’t think about it enough to want it,” he said, with a shrug. “We had some good pizzas together, though, you and I.”
“We did,” she said, finishing the last potato and rinsing it off. “What’s the plan for these?”
