by Lilly Wilder
Dalton wrapped his arms around me and there was a moment when I was so overwhelmed with emotion that I almost wept, for there had been a point when I didn’t think I would ever be able to give myself to someone like this again. But Dalton had proved me wrong. He had come from nowhere and changed the way I looked at the world. He wasn’t the typical man I would have gone out with, but he had qualities I found very attractive. He was good-humored, quick-witted, and he was a good listener.
Before we’d fallen asleep I had told him that I liked how he listened to me.
“I never feel as though I’m boring you, or that it’s a hassle to listen to me,” I said.
“Is that how you felt like with your last boyfriend?”
My gaze turned away from him, as thoughts of Andy invaded my mind. It didn’t seem right that he should come into this place of intimacy, intruding on the warm ambience that Dalton and I had created. I placed my hand on Dalton’s arm and moved even closer to him, not wanting anything to get between us.
“A lot of the time, yes. He never made me feel as though I was special. Sometimes he scoffed when I had something funny to say, or I’d tell him a story and he’d look blankly into the distance, with something else on his mind. I never felt as though I was a priority for him.”
“I’m sorry you had to go through that. I don’t mean to be rude, but why did you stay with him for so long if you weren’t happy?” he asked. It was a pertinent question, and one I had asked myself countless times. I still wasn’t sure if I knew the answer.
“I suppose, at the time, I didn’t realize I was unhappy, or if I did then I didn’t think I was going to be able to be happy anywhere else. I guess it’s the usual thing; when you’re in a situation, it’s hard to look outside of it. I hoped at some point, that it would get better or that he would change, I guess I was living in denial for a long time. I’d always been told that with relationships you needed to work at them to be happy; that they weren’t always going to be easy, so that’s what I tried to do. It wasn’t until it was too late, that I realized that working at a relationship is different, to dragging yourself through torment. I should have ended it a long time before.”
“I’m amazed he didn’t, if he was unhappy.”
“That’s the funny thing about Andy; he was always happiest in his misery, and he liked to make me miserable too. I think he liked having someone he could dominate and feel superior too. He was always so patronizing and he was probably afraid that he wouldn’t be able to find anyone as easy to control as me. I felt stupid for it, but I wanted to strike out against my parents. Andy was everything my parents weren’t; he was reliable, he was ambitious, he had a job in the city and at parties he was sociable and charming. It was just in the shadows at home when he let his darkest side out…”
“I know what you mean about relationships being work, but it has to be both people working together for the same goal. That’s the part people tend to leave out.” He wrapped his arms around my body and held my tightly. I felt so safe and secure with him, in a way I never had with Andy. “I’m sorry that it happened to you. I wish I could have been around to make some kind of difference.”
“From the sound of it, you had your hands full with your own thing. And I’m not sure I would have been receptive to anyone’s outside help, but I appreciate the sentiment.”
I’d never had anyone stand up for me before and the thought of it was thrilling. My parents had been devout pacifists and had always taught me to concede when faced with confrontation, which explained why I was always so deferential to Andy and why I tended to gravitate towards strong personalities like Jennifer’s. I was envious of the easy confidence Dalton possessed and found myself wondering what would have happened had he and Andy encountered each other. Would I have been brave enough to realize that Dalton was a better match for me, or would I still have been thinking about everything Andy could offer and how I was attracted to the life that was so different to the one I had with my parents?
I went to sleep thinking about these things, resting against Dalton’s body. The steady sound of his breathing lulled me into a tranquil state of mind and the intense lovemaking we’d enjoyed had left my body exhausted with delirium.
*
I slept soundly and my dreams were happy ones, but in the small hours of the morning I found myself awake and stretched my arm out, expecting to find Dalton laying there. However, the bed was empty. The first thought in my paranoid mind was that this had all been some game, with the intended goal of bedding me and then leaving like a cliché, but I dismissed that thought. Dalton wasn’t like that, and if he’d wanted to leave he had had plenty of chances before. I assumed he had gone to the bathroom and it was probably the motion of him leaving that awakened me. I sighed happily, as I stretched out some of the kinks and aches in my body, and breathed in the lingering smell of his masculinity. I ran my hands down my naked body and wondered if he would be ready for another session of passion.
I wiped the sleep from my eyes and gazed towards the door, waiting for him to return. I didn’t hear any running water though, and there was no shaft of light pouring in around the door. I crawled over the bed when I heard the sound of a murmuring voice coming from the hallway. I was puzzled as to who Dalton could have been speaking to at this time of night, especially when he was sharing a bed with me.
My paranoia ran rampant and suddenly I was thinking about other possibilities, that perhaps he had told me a half-truth and his betrothed wasn’t dead at all, but I was just some illicit thrill, a distraction from the monotony of married life. Part of me wanted to just turn around and go back to sleep. I hated myself for waking up in this moment. Ignorance was bliss and I would have much rather enjoyed the idyllic and innocent paradise of dreams. I knew that if I did try to ignore this now, though, I would be plagued with imaginings, and often these were worse than facing the actual truth. Either way, it was better that I knew what was going on, as if this was indeed false affection, then I needed to know before I got in too deep, although I feared I was in deep enough already.
Despite my reservations and my scars, I had let myself fall for Dalton. It happened slowly; with every passing moment we spent together I found myself falling deeper and deeper into my desire for him. He had enraptured my mind. I found myself unable to think of anything other than him. I wanted to be with him all the time, and the things he did to my body drove me crazy. It was easy to get carried away with the rampant feelings coursing through my body and I had to stop myself from getting too excited, as I didn’t want to cause myself more harm than good.
Life seemed to be a delicate balancing act between managing expectations and getting just excited enough to not feel as though everything was a waste. After what had happened with Andy, I was certain that I’d never feel any kind of excitement about love again, and if I ever felt a rush of excitement, I actively quelled the feeling before it became something that became a part of me. Now I was filled with nausea, once again, and I was reminded of why I had extricated myself from romance in the first place. Even after so long, the fear of being hurt was so palpable I could taste it. I choked on the lump in my throat, as well, as I moved closer to the door, as silent as a cat, and strained my ears to try and hear what was being said.
Dalton spoke in a soft, hushed voice and I came in at the tail end of a conversation.
“No, I haven’t brought it up yet. I’m still working on her.” There was a pause between some sentences, as the person on the other end of the phone spoke. I assumed it was Rick because I had no idea who else played a role in Dalton’s life, and I was once again reminded of how little I knew about him. “Yes, I know, but it’s not easy. I need more time. I’m getting close with her. No, she doesn’t know anything more than what we expected. It’s not going to be easy to convince her. Yes, I know we’ve already wasted too much time. Who do you think you’re talking to? I know what’s at stake here more than anyone, but I don’t like this. She’s not what they told us
she was like. We shouldn’t force her to do anything against her will…I know,” he added, his voice faltering. “I know what has to be done. I’m not going to let anyone down.”
He stood there for some time longer, evidently listening to whoever was on the other end of the phone. My brow creased with worry as I heard him end the call and walk back towards the bedroom. I quickly returned to the bed and, rolling over, pulled the sheets around me, pretending that I was asleep, just like I used to do whenever my parents came to check on me. I listened as he slipped into bed. I held my mouth tightly closed and I kept completely still, not wanting to give him any clue that I had overheard his conversation.
“Why do I have to like you so damned much?” he whispered, and then he turned around and went back to sleep.
My peaceful night had been interrupted by a bombshell and I wasn’t able to get another wink. My mind was alive with thoughts about this other person, and what Dalton really wanted with me. I thought that his intentions had been genuine. Every moment we’d spent together seemed to have been laced with pure happiness and unbridled attraction, but it had all been a fantasy. There was some ulterior motive that fueled Dalton’s actions and I wasn’t about to let myself be a victim again.
Chapter Eight
The morning sun rose, dispelling the magic of the night. Pale light filled the room and cast everything in a dusty haze that showed all the imperfections. Dalton was snoring softly, so I pulled myself out of bed and wrapped a robe around my body, trying to make sense of what I’d overheard. Was this how married couples lived; ignoring each other’s secrets? I barely knew Dalton and I was already feeling stressed.
I made myself some breakfast and a hot drink to calm my nerves, and thought about how I was going to handle this. After I’d ended things with Andy, I’d told myself that I was never going to let anyone treat me like this again, and I was going to stand up for myself. However, I wasn’t sure I wanted to put myself through it. I thought a better choice was to just tell him to leave, without getting into why. I didn’t need to know what he had planned for me or who had put him up to it. I wasn’t going to be a part of anyone’s games and I would just have to give up on romance for a while, as I had intended. I clearly wasn’t meant to enjoy that aspect of life, so there was no point in indulging the misery any longer.
It didn’t take long for Dalton to wake up and come join me. He had put on his pants but was still shirtless and he helped himself to some coffee. His hair was tousled. He smiled when he saw me and it was at this point that I wondered how the morning would have played out had I not woken up in the night. Undoubtedly, he would have come up and wrapped his arms around me. We would have smiled and smirked, as we replayed the naughty pleasure we had indulged ourselves in during the night, and then we might have indulged ourselves again. It would have been difficult to resist feeling that pleasure. Perhaps he would have lifted me onto the kitchen counter, or we might have scurried to the bedroom and freshened up in a warm morning shower.
As it was, those things were consigned to the realm of things that would never be. I turned my head to the side as he came in for a kiss, and as a result his lips only brushed my cheek. I felt the yearning deep inside for the warmth of his embrace, but I had to remind myself to be strong. His hands fell away and he stepped back, a confused look was on his face.
“Are you alright?” he asked.
This was it, the moment when I would confront him and hope that he would tell me the truth, or just let this go and chalk it off as another bad decision. I decided for the latter.
“I’m fine Dalton, and I’m sorry, but I think last night was a mistake. Don’t get me wrong it was a wonderful mistake and I really enjoyed the time we’ve spent together, but I’m not sure I can give you what you need, or what you deserve. I’ve just been going through so many things and being with you has shown me that I’m not quite ready to make that last step yet, but it’s also shown me that I will be able to make that step one day, so I wanted to thank you for that. I’m sorry for having to tell you like this…I know it’s probably not what you wanted to wake up to…” I trailed away, hoping that he would leave and not make an argument out of it.
“No, it’s not what I wanted to wake up to at all.” He looked troubled. The playful smile he’d woken up with had faded instantly and when I glimpsed his eyes, he looked hurt. It was difficult to see because I hated the thought of making anyone feel this way, but I was the injured party here, and he had no right to act like he was the victim. “Are you sure there’s no way we can talk about this? It’s just, that it’s been difficult for me, as well, to move on from Isla. You’re the first person, in a long time, I’ve felt a connection with and I think it’s a shame that it should end here. I know that we might have moved a little faster than you were ready for, and I’m sorry if that’s the case, but I don’t want last night, to be our last night together. We can take things slower if you like, whatever it takes to make you feel more comfortable.”
“It’s not a question of comfort Dalton. It’s a question of self-preservation. I just can’t take the chance of being hurt again. Being close to you was wonderful, but it comes with certain sacrifices that I’m not prepared to make.”
Dalton went to speak again, but I wasn’t going to put myself through any of that. I held up my hand to silence him. “You can say whatever you like Dalton, but it’s not going to make any difference. I know my limits, and you may not agree with me, but I’m not going to go out of my comfort zone. This is as far as we go.”
Dalton pursed his lips. I couldn’t tell if he was more frustrated that I was putting an end to our fledgling romance or his scheme. I wasn’t sure I wanted to know. He seemed like he was going to say something, and then he stopped.
“I guess this is goodbye, then,” he said, and left the kitchen to pick up his clothes. I stayed in one spot as I watched him leave. The slam of the door echoed around me and my head slumped down. Why had I been so cursed in love? Every time I felt myself getting close to someone they ended up hurting me.
I was getting tired of my life.
*
Jennifer tried to reason with me and told me that I didn’t need to overreact about the whole thing. After all, she said, I only heard half of a conversation so I shouldn’t jump to conclusions about it. However, I countered by asking who would take a phone call in the middle of the night. What could have been so important, and why didn’t he mention anything of it? Even when I told him it was over he hadn’t revealed the truth, and this told me it was something that he wanted to remain hidden. Jennifer didn’t have an answer for that and, indeed, she found it just as odd as I did.
I tried to put it to the back of my mind as I went about my business. I threw myself into work again, but I found that it lacked some of its luster. Without Dalton, I was feeling listless and had none of the excitement that had been present. I no longer looked forward to seeing him again, and without those anchored moments, time seemed to stretch out like a long ribbon, fluttering helplessly against the churning winds of fate.
Being with Dalton had forced me to look at myself, though. We’d spoken a lot about my life, and sharing stories about my parents with him, made me wonder if I should make more of an effort to reconnect with them. Sometimes, I think people come into your life for a reason, a reason that might not seem readily apparent at the time. Maybe Dalton hadn’t come into my life to make me fall in love with him, but to remind me that I wasn’t alone in the world. I had a family.
When I returned home, I rummaged through my drawers and found the last letter my parents had sent. It was a short one; I imagine they must have become dispirited with my lack of replies, but one thing I’ll give them is that they never stopped trying. I suppose that showed how much I meant to them and, perhaps, I was more than a little ungrateful. I pulled out a sheet of paper and began writing. I wasn’t sure what to say at first; the pen hovered over the paper, but as soon as they touched and the ink began to bloom the words st
arted to flow, a blue river being painted across the white landscape of the paper.
Mom, Dad, I’m sorry it’s taken me so long to reply. I’m sorry I’ve been angry at you all these years, when all you’ve really wanted is to know that I’m okay. Well, I am. I’ve got a good job and I live in a nice place. I have friends and I feel like I’m in a good place. It’s not always easy; I had a bad relationship, but I managed to get out of that and for a while now I’ve been finding myself. I think back to the lessons you taught me as a child and I think, for far too long, I’ve been ignoring them. I wish that I could go back and take on board more of what you said. You weren’t always wrong…I guess, I just wish that the way we live our lives could be more compatible. I hope that you get this letter because I know how often you move but, I think…I know, I’m ready to see you again. It would be nice to catch up and to hear about everything you’ve done since we last saw each other. I hope you’re not too unhappy with me for being silent. I think it would be good to talk.
I love you,
Ellie
When I scanned the paper, I found myself unsatisfied with what I had written. It seemed so empty and inadequate, but too much time had gone by without any communication and it seemed wrong to tell them everything in an essay. There was so much I wanted to tell them, and there had been times when I had been at my lowest ebb and just needed my parents to offer me some comfort, support, and a little wisdom. They’d never been much good at the latter, but I wondered if I had been a part of the problem before. Wisdom was only good if you were receptive to it, and I, most certainly, had not been.
I started to think that I hadn’t given them enough credit. They’d managed to make it through life after all and it wasn’t as though I had all the answers myself. Perhaps now, as an adult, I might be more receptive to some of the things they had to say.
