By Mistake

by Sigal Ehrlich

  He retraces his trail of kisses up my body to meet my lips. I miss his touch when he leaves me to get protection, sitting on the side of the bed. When he’s done, I straddle him. Liam looks at me, then softly asks, “Do you want to continue?”

  I nod.

  “Anna, we can stop at any point.”

  Touched by his care and sensibility, I realize it’s not a tease or foreplay. He’s genuinely checking if I’m okay. When he guides himself into me, we both hold our breath and when I slide down on him, we let out a joined moan of relief. As I move above him, his hands hold my waist, helping me and we sway in a blissful rhythm. I kiss his lips and move on to the prickled area under his ear and I’m rewarded with his rich, deep sounds of pleasure. We inch closer to a tight embrace as he moves in me and it’s almost too much. Our foreheads touch, mouths hovering over one another, occasionally stealing a kiss. Light sweat covers our bodies as they glide along, skin to heated skin. Our pace hastes, matching our pants and the moans scattered into the room. I cry his name when I’m no longer in control of my body, heightened sensation washing over me of utter ecstasy. I climb so high with his name on my lips and melt onto him, my arms draped over his shoulders. He chases his own release, holding closer, kissing my neck. He stills, groaning into my skin. We stay in this sitting position, tangled in each other, catching our breaths. Neither of us make any attempt to separate. Slowly, Liam leans back with me on him till his back touches the mattress.

  “I need to get rid of—” he says reluctantly.

  I roll to the side, allowing him the space to stand. My eyes follow him till he disappears behind the bathroom door. I can hardly contain what I’m feeling. I’ve never felt this way with anyone before.

  Hearts Will Never be Practical Until They are Made Unbreakable ~ L. Frank Baum

  I close the door behind me and lean on it. Covering my face with my hands I let out a long exhale. If I ever needed a moment this would be it. My head is spinning and for a beat, I feel out of balance. What I’m feeling is throwing me back. My heart is pounding in my chest. I’m so incredibly gone for her. And the sex. Christ. Beyond incredible.

  The night definitely spiraled out of control. I curse under my breath. I was supposed to talk to her, not take her to my bed. When she’s around, my self-control seems to run like water through my fingers. It’s there but you know it’s just a matter of time until there will be none left. I’m powerless trying to resist her. It’s impossible. Hopeless. Borderline excruciating. Tonight’s outcome just hammers in the fact that I need to get my head sorted, away from her. No contact till I figure out how and if this thing can work beyond the friends’ realm. At this point, I don’t believe we can just go back to what we were. I wish we could . . . for now.

  I clean myself and put on a pair of boxers. God damn it, I need to talk to her now. Possibly the worst time if there ever was one, but I can’t leave things like they are right now. I need to get things off my chest before I leave. With a brick in my stomach, I open the door and go back to bed. I keep my distance, sitting on the other side of the bed.

  Anna grabs my deserted t-shirt and puts it on. I immediately mourn the sight of her bare and stunning. She smiles at me. “That was—”

  “Incredible,” I finish her words on an exhale. I look at her and a frown settles between my brows. I chase a smile futilely. What I’m about to deliver eating at me.

  Anna worries her lips, gauging me. “I know that you were clear about where you stand, but I think it’s time we revisit that, what with how things developed. The thing is—” She gives me one of her brilliant smiles. “I really like you, very much so.”

  No, please, please don’t go there, I beg wordlessly.

  The trouble coloring my features prompts her to further worry her lips, hesitance bringing along a guarded quality to her posture. “I’m going to stop pretending not to want you more than a friend,” she says, parachuting us smack-dab in the middle of a minefield.

  The frown creasing my features deepens. I lick my lips and take a breath, dying a little inside. I fight the urge to take her into my arms and never let her go. “Yeah, you beat me to it,” I say instead in a soft tone. “This is what I wanted to talk to you about before what happened—happened.”

  My eyes taper as I notice her fingers fiddling nervously with the hem of the shirt.

  “We should have had this conversation before tonight, before getting into bed together. Not that I regret it, it was phenomenal.”

  “Okay,” she says, lacking enthusiasm this time as she waits for me to go on.

  This is so fucking hard, but I need to do it. “I hate doing this while we’re still in bed,” I begin. I feel like such a prick. I shouldn’t have slept with her, not tonight. “And I really tried to talk to you before things started.”

  She nods all the more guarded.

  “Anna, listen, I’ve done it before. The attempt at a serious relationship in the early days of my residency,” I say, staring deep into her eyes. “And it ended really bad. Really bad. I wasn’t around enough; I wasn’t paying attention enough. She didn’t take it well, as supportive as she tried to be. It started with a huge fight after I wasn’t there for some important event. And then the little fights, constantly. Anytime I fell asleep during a show or movie or was too tired to go out with our friends, or that we weren’t able to do things like others, long weekends, spontaneous overnights. Our relationship had been strained to a breaking point by my singular focus on achieving my life’s goal. It was a disaster. There was so much heartache and disappointments, and eventually damage beyond repair.”

  I send my hand to the nape of my neck. “See . . . ” I hesitate, trying to make sense of my feelings, to make her understand I’m not trying to hurt her. “I love what I do. And right now, if I want to make it through my last year of residency, it requires my full attention. Being a resident is like an ongoing test – it’s grueling and you have to show up and do exceptionally well if you want to get accepted at a great hospital down the road. And that’s my main focus.”

  I lower my eyes, my jaw ticking under my skin. I lift them back to Anna. “Cheryl, that’s her name.” I inwardly pause. This feels so wrong, saying someone else’s name while we’re still on tangled sheets.

  “She wasn’t in a good place when we broke up. She needed much more than I could have given her. She was vulnerable and I wasn’t there to support her. I found myself torn between trying to be there and be the person she wanted me to be and it just didn’t work, not with my job. And when I decided to end it for both our sakes, she took it badly. I’m sure there were other triggers, but she sank into a deep depression and I saw this person who was important to me deteriorate. I had a part in it. I think our breakup might have been the canalization. I don’t want another person going through so much pain because of me. I can hardly forgive myself for one person ending on antidepressants.” Saying that out loud burns.

  I resume with, “I’m well aware of what I can offer at this point in my life and it’s not enough to maintain a healthy relationship.” I swallow. “It would be selfish and unfair. And the fact is I know from experience too much take from one person in the relationship throws both you and those around you out of balance.”

  I run my hands through my hair and then sit up a little straighter, set in determination. “Right now, my main focus is on my career . I’m still trying to figure out how to make that work for myself – there is no work-life balance when you’re a resident. If you want to succeed, there’s only work. I can’t have a relationship thrown in to the mix . . . not now. It’s just too much.” It’s fucking tormenting doing this.

  “Not with you,” I say softly. “I can’t do this with you. I’d be damned if I’d ever make you feel neglected.”

  I already feel like shit having her look at me like she does right now. The look in her eyes tells me that the intimacy we shared just moments ago that felt like it stretched out for miles is the same gap forming between us.

  She hugs a
pillow to her chest. Her voice fights to stay leveled as she replies, “There are many reasons why a relationship won’t work. People can be in different places in life, comparability, expectations. It doesn’t necessarily need to be complicated schedules. It’s all about balance and what expectations you have for one another and communicating that.”

  “You’re right, that’s true in normal relationships,” I say. “And I wish that were the case for me. But in my case, that’s the main reason my relationships didn’t work out. Believe me, I tried. Not to mention this last one where deep feelings were involved and it ended in a fight to end all fights. I don’t want to repeat that, not with you.”

  I’m finally laying it all out there. And it’s civil and mature and courteous and so immensely, unbearably, excruciating. All I want is to tell her that I want her and beg her to wait for me. I want this huge spool of pain growing rapidly in my chest to get out. It presses too tight. I don’t want to lose her. Yet, I can’t tell her that. I can’t do this to her. Keep her in some limbo, and that’s if she even agrees to it.

  She inches closer to me and puts her hand on mine. “Maybe we’re different. Maybe I’m different. Maybe I’m not like her. Liam, whether intended or not we’ve been a couple for a while now, shy of a label.”

  I wet my lips, fighting whatever is going on inside of me, and try another approach, maybe making her angry will work better. “You usually see other people when you’re in a relationship?” I want to take it back the moment it leaves my mouth. I had no right.

  She retrieves her hand like it was burned and gapes at me then blinks.

  “Damn it. Sorry, Anna, that was a low blow. I had no right saying that.”

  Mission succeeded; she’s pissed. I’m such an ass. She’s sitting here, telling me she wants me, and I go and do that.

  “Believe me,” she says. “If you just asked, I wouldn’t be seeing other people. And just for the record, not because I owe you an explanation but because I want you to know, there was nothing, absolutely nothing between Jesse and me. Ever.”

  My eyes meet hers and I see something burning there, an uncertainty..

  “How does that make you feel?” she asks.

  I can’t lie. “Relieved.”

  She nods twice. “I thought so.”

  “Listen, Anna, this is too much. I need to process everything. I didn’t plan on having these strong feelings for you.” Strong feelings, the understatement of the century. “I think that while I’m away we shouldn’t be in touch. I need to do some thinking. I need to figure things out. And I can’t do that when you’re around.”

  She looks flabbergasted. “You know what,” she says, frowning at me. “I’m not going to sit here and plead my case. Here it is, Liam Brody. I like you –I much more than like you.”

  She’s killing me.

  “We are more than great together,” she says, her voice breaking a little. “And, I don’t need to prove anything to anyone, not even you. I deserve to be with someone who wants to be with me. I shouldn’t be begging.”

  I attempt to inch closer, but her body language makes me withdraw.

  “No, you shouldn’t,” I agree. “And you’re perfect and absolutely right.” And I know you’re the best thing that has ever happened to me and I know that if I give you what you want, you’ll eventually resent me, and it’ll break your heart and mine. Better end it now when she’s not too deep in.

  She gives me a bitter smile. “Just not perfect enough for you to give this a real try, ah?”

  God, no. You’re my be all end all girl. “Anna, it’s not like that.”

  She cocks her head. “Isn’t it though. Really? Or maybe, just maybe you’re bad at letting yourself have it all and being genuinely happy.”

  She collects herself, licks her lips, exasperation radiating through her expression. “You know what I wish? I wish you’d show me exactly how you feel. Break your own damn rules and go crazy. I wish I could see you with zero inhibition. Doing what you really want to do. You know what I think, Liam? I think we would be perfect under those circumstances.”

  “Anna,” I say, dropping my chin on a sigh. I take a deep breath that does shit to stop the turmoil inside. “I think I should take this time apart to make sense of the mess in my head. Like I said, I can’t think straight when I’m around you. I think I need time to figure things out. And the only way I can see myself succeeding in doing that is for us to take a break for a while, at least while I’m away.”

  She looks at me incredulously. “A break? You want us to not be in touch at all?”

  My stomach is turning as I muster the strength to say, “I think it’s for the best. For the time being.”

  She blinks at me a couple of times, looking utterly stunned.

  I try to explain, “I don’t know that we have enough mileage in our . . . thing to sustain a pause. Or ask for it in the first place. I mean, we obviously do well connecting remotely, but – I can’t ask you to wait especially when I don’t know what I want right now, or give you what you want. Anna, I told you from day one, I can’t do relationships at this point in my life. I can’t commit to someone because I don’t have the capacity for that. It’s going to be great in the beginning but then when we’re in the middle of dinner or a movie and I’m paged to a surgery or you want to go out with friends and I want to stay at home because I’m too tired . . . that’s the reality of a relationship with me. All of my energy and focus has to be on the work I do. I can’t ask you to compromise your life to be with me and stay on the back burner. And I know right now when it feels like it’s working so well it seems like it’ll work long term. Let me tell you, it never does.”

  She nods seeming beyond frustrated and . . . hurt. “So, you need to make a decision, and you opt-out?”

  “Anna.”

  She gives me a thin, unhappy smile. “Got it. You’re leaving and we shouldn’t be in touch for the foreseeable future. Did I get it right?”

  “Anna.” I’m devastated for doing this to her, to me, especially now. The timing couldn’t be more wrong, but I hold steel, fighting myself from taking it all back and wrapping her in my arms.

  She gets off the bed, looking for her scattered clothes. She grabs whatever she finds and walks to the bathroom. She slams the door behind her and comes back out dressed in a blink. I have my face between my hands struggling to stay collected. I raise my head to see her walk over to me.

  She leans in to press a kiss to my cheek. “Safe travels, take care.”

  Torn, I take her hand in mine. My features crumble with the thought of letting her go. I bring her hand to my mouth and kiss gently, so God damn scared to let her walk away. I swallow thick, and eventually do the right thing. I let her go.

  Wordless, she walks to the door. She turns her head for a brief second, and I know this image of her will stay with me. Then she leaves the room. The click of the door as she walks out is soul crushing.

  I stand in the quiet for a moment. Frozen and broken. My feelings for her are much stronger than I thought they were. But I had to do it. I had to. Better now than in a few months when the pain would be unbearable. Better now than later when feelings get deeper. Better now than to end it with a fight and bitter feelings later on. Nevertheless, I’ve never hated myself so much.

  Can I Just Skip Forward to the Last Scene to Find Out it Was All Just a Very Bad Joke?

  “Hey Vic, did you talk to mom?” I ask my sister as I slip into bottle-green heels.

  “Funny you should mention it. I wanted to ask you the same thing.”

  “Strange,” I frown. “I mean from time to time she has these busy phases, but—” I shrug on a black blazer and grab my studio bag and purse. “I think that the last time I spoke to her was, what – a couple of days ago?” I shut the door behind me. Between the three of us, Vic, mom, and I, we tend to talk daily.

  “Really odd,” Vicky muses.

  My heels echo rapidly on the concrete as I head down the street to the café by the studio. “
’Tis,” I comment. My frown deepens. “Hey Vic, is it just me, or has she been a bit – I don’t know, not herself lately?”

  There’s a brief session of typing before she says, “Yeah, she seems distracted, more than usual. A little, umm, off?”

  I frown, thinking out loud, “I’m busy till the evening, but—”

  “I’ll try to swing by and check on her during my lunch break, if not, later.” She pauses. “How are you doing, Bean?”

  Vicky is the only person I told about last night. I didn’t feel like discussing it with anyone but my sister. “How am I doing?” I gaze ahead at the busy street. “I don’t know. I feel . . . empty? Does that even make any sense? Hurt. Baffled. I feel a little lost like I’m functioning but there’s this hollow hole in me. Like something is missing. Yeah . . . empty.”

  Vic hums in understanding. “Did you have breakfast?”

  See, my sister knows me better than anyone. She knows I’ll feel faint later if I don’t eat before work. She also knows that I tend to suffer silently, hold things inside, and carry on. “I forgot,” comes out as a murmur.

  “Why don’t you come over tonight, sleepover, let me take care of you. I don’t want you to be alone.” And then. “And, please grab something to eat before you start your classes.”

  I swallow the lump of sentiments her suggestion provoked. “Okay . . . to both.”

  “I’ll call you after I see mom. Oh, and good luck with the meeting. Smile, little sis, despite hot doctor you have good things happening to you.”

  I square up, force a thin smile on my face, and enter the café. Jesse gets up first and gives me a warm hug. The next hug has the same friendly quality, only it smells of rich, rose-scented perfume. “Hello dear,” my soon to be former boss says with a smile.