TAKE ME as I am

by C Osborne, Laurina

“No, casual means not taking you seriously, and I take you very seriously. The other one means not having to call your mom on Christmas or Mother’s Day because she doesn’t know I exist.”

  “Okay, then let me say it another way. If my family doesn’t know you exist then we have an excuse not to move forward and our obligation to each other remains just intimate sex.”

  “Well … yes … but not as cold as your words.”

  “Nella, can you see yourself with me for a long time?”

  My stomach does a rollercoaster and I look at his eyes. I can. I turn to the door and my eyes land on my truck. Why can’t my life be that simple?

  I turn around.

  “Being with you means so much to me and I’m satisfied with what we share. I have never had this before. I had a husband, but we didn’t share friendship or an adult relationship. You and I can lie in bed and just hold each other and not say a word or talk endlessly and I feel loved and safe. Why can’t I have that for a while longer before things get complicated?”

  “And complicated means calling my mom for mother’s day or maybe having to put up with my children.”

  “Yes and no. If we’re still together I will have to meet your kids, won’t I?”

  He nods.

  I turn back to the door. I want to make it right for his sake, for our sake. I close the blinds and turn back to him.

  “Okay, but you have to tell them on this trip and based on their reaction we’ll decide together about a New Year’s visit.”

  He nods again.

  “Mark, am I disappointing you?”

  He stands, walks toward me and stops about a foot away.

  “A little. I thought you’d be in love with me by now.”

  My eyes jump to his and a feeling rushes over my chest. Am I excited, frightened or in love?

  “Am I in love with you?” I ask feeling fearful.

  “Nella, you, have to tell me. I can only guess at the way you feel; I don’t know for sure unless you tell me.”

  A tear escapes. I quickly wipe it away. My eyes have not left his.

  “I don’t know. I feel … I feel very strongly … is it love?” I ask feebly.

  “I don’t know. Describe it to me and we’ll put a name to it.”

  “I can show you better,” I say.

  “Then show me,” he responds in a hoarse voice.

  I throw myself at him and start very quickly, but just as quickly we slow down, taking pleasure in every kiss and groaning with every touch.

  Afterward, we lie in bed cuddled up. Do I love him? I smile. It feels as if he loves me. I’m warm and I relax. I trust him with my body. But that’s sex, right? Excellent sex with a man who knows how to do it right.

  It’s sex, but it’s so much more. Mark’s a man who has love and he shares with me, a woman who takes it in and gives it back.

  “Mark?” I say as I turn to face him. His eyes lock into mine. “Maybe you’re not ready to hear this,” I say, teasing him.

  He lifts his head. “I’m ready to hear it,” he says very seriously.

  “You aren’t ready. You’re too serious.”

  He lowers his head and kisses me and I hold his head and return the kiss.

  “Stop stalling and just say it.”

  All of a sudden my heart starts beating faster and I’m scared.

  I blurt it out. “I love you,” I say staring into his eyes.

  He kisses me. “You should see your face, your eyes. You’re scared to death. Say it again so your heart will slow down.”

  “I love you, Mark Gagnon. I really, really love you and I’ve never felt like this before.”

  He holds me tightly and I relax wondering exactly when that happened.

  “Nella, don’t you want to know if I’m in love with you?”

  I smile again. “If you have to ask me then you’re not ready.”

  “Why are you being cocky?”

  “Because you already told me, the night before Zoi had the baby.” I turn over and gloat in his face.

  “You were pretending to be asleep?”

  “No. The intensity with which you said it woke me up. It scared me too and very soon after, you were snoring. I assumed you were probably dreaming.”

  “So you don’t want me to tell you?”

  “You’ll tell me when you’re ready,” I say, moving into his arms and wishing he would stay here for Christmas.

  We had decided that Christmas celebration was to be at Zoi’s, so the weekend after Thanksgiving we decorate the tree before the boys go back to school. I’m not big on celebrating anything, Christmas included, but as the boys got older I’ve been able to support some of the things they find necessary to celebrate. Zoi’s a big Christmas person and since her in-laws are coming, it’s all about what she wants.

  I spend Christmas Eve night on Zoi’s sofa because Dad and I are up late baking and he’s keeping me entertained with stories of Christmas celebrations in other countries he has visited. When Tempest gets up for her midnight and four a.m. feedings, I take care of her, so Zoi and Darnell can sleep.

  On Christmas morning the usual chaos is missing. It’s Tempest’s first Christmas. Her father’s side of the family, Darnell’s mom and dad and two sisters, are coming to visit. Darnell is from Morristown, New Jersey, pretending to be a street boy from Jersey City. I’m not certain how his parents feel about Zoi, but she doesn’t seem concerned.

  We have breakfast and no one’s anxious to open gifts as in years past. I have to admit I miss that. The boys are grown; it will be a few years before Tempest shows her greed.

  I got Dad a bulky robe while Zoi bought him snow boots, which he loves. Darnell bought him a gift certificate, which is what he got everyone except Zoi. He got her a spa treatment as queen for the day and wrote her the sweetest letter about what it means to be his wife and the mother of his child. The boys receive money and give everyone socks, which turn out to be very thoughtful gifts. Dad gives Zoi and me an eight-by-ten, framed, black and white picture of the four of us, mom included. It’s my best gift ever.

  At around one, I’m in the kitchen helping Dad when I hear Tempest crying. It’s one of those cries that makes you wonder if she’s in pain. Darnell gets out of his chair and goes to the bedroom. After a few seconds, she slowly comes to a stop. I resume working.

  “Go talk to Zoi,” Dad says.

  I turn to him. “Tempest stopped crying and Darnell’s in there.”

  “It’s about her in-laws.”

  “Darnell’s family?”

  “She thinks they don’t like her.”

  I glare at Dad, drop the knife and wash my hands. I march down the hall and I can hear Darnell trying to calm Zoi down.

  “I told you it doesn’t matter what they think,” he says very patiently. Tempest rests on his shoulder while he pats her back.

  “Of course it matters,” I say, scooting up to Zoi on the bed.

  She turns her teary eyes on me. “They hate me, Nella.”

  “Why didn’t you tell me?”

  “Because you hated me,” Darnell says so forcefully that he ends up having to hush Tempest again.

  “Well, I did; but it’s because you were trying too hard to get me to like you.” I turn back to Zoi. “How do you know they hate you?”

  “His parents were mad that we eloped and they couldn’t convince me to go to church. His mother said I was selfish and ungodly.”

  I turn my eyes on Darnell. If he wasn’t holding the baby I would let him have it.

  “Nella, stop looking at me like that. They’re not liking me too much either.”

  “So what are you going to do about it?”

  “I told Zo to let it go. They’re coming for dinner and I warned them that if they say one thing to Zo her bulldog sister will eat them alive.”

  I make a face at Darnell but turn to Zoi. I kiss her cheek to comfort her.

  “Is it important that they like you?”

  “Yes. Darnell loves his sisters and his parents; he
wants them in our lives. He’s pretending he doesn’t. Now with Tempest, she should know her family.”

  I turn back to Darnell. “What are you, Catholic?”

  “They are. I stop going years ago.”

  “What if you offer to christen the baby as Catholic? Give a little.”

  He grins and I turn to Zo who’s staring at her husband.

  “You think that’ll work?” she asks him.

  “Yup, I think that’ll work, and if we let them handle it even better.” He bends over and kisses my cheek then walks out of the room with Tempest.

  “Nella, thank you. Now tell me how to handle today.”

  “Zoi, you’re the one with the baby. They have no choice but to be nice to you and if not your secret agent father and hound dog, not bull dog, sister will fix their asses.”

  She grins.

  After Darnell’s relatives arrive, Tempest’s first Christmas progresses without a hitch. Her big brother makes sure it’s all on video as proof. I catch Mrs. Whitney, Darnell’s mother, flirting with Dad a couple of times, so I borrow the camera from Etienne and do a little recording of my own.

  At six a.m. I called Mark, wished his voicemail Merry Christmas then turned off my phone. After dinner, I turn it back on; he returned my Christmas greeting. I hold the phone fighting the urge to call him back. I don’t want to hear what his parents have to say, but I want to hear his voice.

  By night fall, my resolve dissolves. I call him before I go to bed and get his voicemail again, so I turn my phone off and lie in bed, my mind racing.

  What will I do if they convince him to go back to his wife?

  He won’t go back to his wife. He loves me.

  He could do it for the children; it won’t matter if he loves me or if I love him. His children come first and they should. It will be hard, but I will give him up. I feel the tears run into my ears. I turn over. I deserve this. I took my sons away from their father and now fate will take the man I love away from me. A cold wave hits my stomach and I let myself feel it, feel the pain. Karma is a bitch and it’s worse when it’s my turn.

  I finally fall asleep around three, but at seven I’m fully awake. I feel sad, so I drag my body out of bed, get dressed and run out the door into the freezing morning air. I take it slow and tell myself I’m running for me, for my health and not just for my sanity.

  On my way back, I stand in front of my tree with my arms folded as the sweat and tears drip down my face. I stare at her until I realize how foolish I am. I have been through worse and my past has prepared me for this, so no matter what happens, I will be fine.

  “Merry Christmas, Mom,” I say to her branches and for the first time I notice that she’s the only tree in the park that still has leaves. I reach out and touch her trunk and do what I always do and hug her. “You are blessed and you have blessed me. Thank you. I’ll be better today, I promise.” I release her and walk back to my apartment. As I open the gate, I look up and Dad’s at the window.

  After showering, I eat a piece of toasted banana bread and coffee for breakfast. Then, I spread my books over the dining table and start taking notes for one of my classes. Around eleven, Zander comes out but cannot convince me to make him breakfast, so he goes back to his room. At one, I have popcorn and soda for lunch. Three hours later, I stop long enough to put a frozen pizza in the oven. Before the timer goes off, Zander returns to share it with me.

  At nine o’clock the door bell rings. I ignore it. After three rings, Zander grumbles, gets up off the sofa and opens the door. I keep working until a hand rests on my shoulder. I look up at him and then away. I take a deep breath to quiet my heart and stand up to greet him.

  “How was your trip?” I ask, giving him a half-hearted hug.

  “How was Tempest’s first Christmas?” he asks, holding me away from him.

  “I think she liked it and her grandparents and aunts were happy to see her. Please sit down.”

  He sits to my right. I push the books away from him, hit save on the laptop and close it. I put my elbow on the table, lean my head in my hand and take a good look at his face.

  “Did you work today?”

  “No, I didn’t. I came back today,” he says looking around at the table. “I see you probably worked all day.”

  “Yep. I had already read the chapters, but this time I took notes and next time I’ll do some research to supplement my notes.”

  “I tried calling you last night and today, but your phone was off.”

  I look down at the table then back at his face. “I didn’t want to hear your news.”

  “I know.”

  I look over my shoulder and ask Zander to give us some privacy. He glances over his shoulder away from the video game he’s playing and glares back and forth between Mark and me.

  “I’ll go see if E’s upstairs,” he says.

  I listen for the closing of the door and turn to Mark.

  “Tell me. Did your family like their gifts or did your announcement overshadow everything else?”

  “I had intended to tell my parents alone. Chloe was over and wouldn’t leave, so I told them in her presence. I didn’t anticipate her reaction. Apparently it was easier for her to keep the other relationship when she had me on the side, but now that I’m unavailable, the other relationship doesn’t work. She sided with my parents.”

  “So where do we stand?” I ask, refusing to look him in the eye.

  “Nella, I cannot give you up,” he says, reaching out his hands and taking mine.

  His hands are shaking and I know the outcome. I look at his face and a big tear rolls down mine.

  “But you must for the sake of your children.”

  He nods and his eyes brim over. I pull my hand away from him, stand and walk away from the table toward my bedroom. I walk into the bathroom, kneel in front of the tub, hold on tight and bawl. When I feel him behind me, I quickly wipe my eyes, but the tears keep coming. I stand and turn to him. We hold each other and cry.

  Later, we lie in bed fully dressed, still holding on to something we both walked away from.

  “It wouldn’t have worked anyway. We’re good together and this world prefers chaos.”

  “Nella, I caved, but I still don’t think it’s the right thing to do. I love you with all my heart. Walking away from you just can’t be right.”

  “Chloe used the kids to her advantage?”

  “Yes and for the first time since we were married she has agreed to cut back on her hours and spend more time at home.”

  “Are you quitting the company?”

  “No. But I’ll go home every weekend.”

  “I’ll miss you and I will never forget you.”

  “Nella, I can’t give you up,” he echoes again.

  “You were right. I’m in my right mind and I can’t share you with her.”

  “Can you give me some time to figure this out? I’m here and without my children in the next room I can think clearer.”

  “I don’t think you should go back to Chloe, but I cannot in good conscience tell you not to go back for your children. The first year I came here, I cried practically every day and I wanted to go back for them. It got better, not easier but better, and I’m glad I stuck it out. If you feel your children need you and being with their mother is the best way to get them where they need to go, you should do it.”

  “I don’t know if it’s the best way. The children know their mother and I fight. Tiffany and I talk more now that I’m here and Zack actually tells me things. I feel closer to them since my relationship is independent of their mother.”

  “I’ll give you the time to figure it out,” I say, turning over with my back to him.

  He spoons me and we lie in silence.

  “Nella, I love you,” he says and I feel it in my heart.

  I turn and look at his face, a face I have grown to love, at his full lips then at his eyes. I move in and touch my lips to his and he holds my head and I’m prepared to love him for the very last time. My bo
dy feels different; it’s ravenous and needs to be touched and squeezed and loved deeply. My desperation fills the room and I climb the hill with him, but half way there I pull back and refuse to allow myself that final feeling of complete satisfaction. I hold on to Mark and the tears seep out of me. When I finally let him go, I lie back and close my eyes.

  He cups my face in the palm of his hands and wipes away my tears with his thumbs. “Why did you do that?”

  I open my eyes and smile. I look in his eyes; he’s serious.

  “You know what I did?” I ask surprised. Leigh never had any idea if I climaxed or not, at least I don’t think so.

  “Of course. I feel what you feel except it’s impossible for me to stop myself after I reach a certain point.”

  “I love you. It’s over between us and my brain finally communicated that to my body. I just couldn’t let you take me there. It was never casual between us, and this time it would be. I need more.”

  He lays his full weight on top of me and buries his face in my neck as he too sobs. We hold each other and an hour later he’s gone.

  For the next three days I run twice a day and do the best I can to hide my emotions from my family. Dad tries to get me to talk, but I’m not ready to share. At midnight of day three, Zoi climbs in bed beside me. I can feel the heat of her breasts on my back, so I laugh then immediately start crying. I turn and we hug each other and cry and somewhere in between I pour out my misery.

  “Nella, it won’t last.”

  “It may.”

  “If he loves you, and I believe he does, it won’t be easy to make love to Chloe. And if he does, she’ll know. She may tolerate it for a while but not for long.”

  “Are you saying I should wait for him? Because I can’t. I’ve been waiting all my life. I waited for Daddy to show up, for Matt to talk to me, for the boys to get through high school then college, for a better place to live and … I don’t want to do that anymore, Zo.”

  “I’m not saying you should wait. I’m saying that men don’t always see the path clearly; sometimes we have to point it out to them. Mark is still here in New York. Nothing has changed for his children except he’ll be at home every weekend. I bet that if he gets what he needs from you, when he goes home Chloe won’t matter.”