by E. K. Blair
“But it’s Christmas. And you’re finally home.”
“It may be home for you, Mom. But it’s not for me.”
Their talking subsides to make room for what I can only imagine is David consoling the heartache of his mom. As I stand frozen, tucked behind the door, I try to make sense out of the conversation they just had, but there are too many pieces missing. I hang on to my breath when I finally hear footsteps, and when they say their goodbyes and the door closes, I sigh in relief and return to the bed.
I wait for David to come get me, but he doesn’t. I go back and forth over whether I should go to him or give him time alone to deal with whatever it was they were talking about.
I crawl to the center of the bed, and after a handful of minutes pass, the door finally opens.
“I’m sorry,” he says.
“It’s fine.”
He takes a seat on the bed next to me. When his head falls into his open palms and he hunches over, resting his elbows on his knees, I scoot up behind him and slide my hand over his shoulder.
“Was that your mother?”
He nods before muttering, “Yeah.”
I run my hand down his back, feeling the tension within the muscles.
“I haven’t been completely forthcoming with you about my family,” he tells me, and when he lifts his head and turns to look at me, he continues, “I haven’t spoken to them for years. There’s pretty much no relationship there anymore.”
“Why? What happened?”
He shifts around on the bed to face me, taking one of my hands in his. “You know that I was engaged once,” he starts, and I nod. “We dated all through college. I asked her to marry me at the start of our final year. She was practically family at that point, and both of our families had grown close. Everything was set and booked. Invitations were out, and I had bought this house. A month before the wedding, I went by my parents’ loft in Norman, where my brother was living at the time while finishing his MBA. I had a key to the place too, and when I stopped by to pick up some boxes of mine that were stored in the attic, her car was there.” His hand tightens around mine. “I could hear them as soon as I walked in, but for some fucked-up reason, I needed to see it. So, I walked to his room, and there they were. My brother and the girl who wore my ring on her finger, fucking each other.”
I shake my head in disbelief. “What did you do?”
“I lost my shit on them. I threw my fist into my brother more times than I can count, ripped the ring off her fucking finger while she cried and cowered in the corner, and then I left.”
“Did she say why?”
“Some shit about how they didn’t plan it and that they loved each other. Honestly, at that point, I was so pissed, I didn’t care what their excuses were. Apparently, it had been going on for months,” he tells me. “Shit fell apart so fast, and I was a fucking wreck. I had no clue until then how much one person could destroy another.”
His eyes reveal a brokenness in him I’ve never seen before. A scar embedded so deep it frays all his edges—edges I assumed were smooth.
“What did you do?”
“She broke my heart and gave hers to Josh. It was a seamless transition on her part. I don’t think that woman has a conscience bone in her body. But like I said, she really fucked me up. It put a huge strain on my parents too, so I did the only thing I could do, I bowed out and made their lives easier when I joined the Army.”
“That’s why you enlisted?”
“I was lost,” he admits. “It was a dark time.”
“But your family . . .”
“The military was my family at that point. Still is. Even though most of us are out now and we all live far apart from each other, my combat brothers are just that—my brothers.”
And this I have come to know. I’ve never met any of his friends, but he talks about them often and keeps in close contact.
“I lost touch with everyone back home. It was easier to just leave them all behind. My mother would send me letters, but they only served as salt for my wounds, so I stopped reading them after I found out Josh married her during my first deployment. I could tell life had moved on for all of them, but I was still dealing with it.”
“And they have kids now?”
“Two. A boy and a girl. I’ve never met them. I haven’t seen or spoken to anyone aside from my mom since I’ve been back.”
“That’s a long time to go without your family.”
“Like I said, I have a family, it just isn’t them. I’ve been gone for too long, it’s just better this way, especially now that little kids are in the picture.”
I lean in and hug him, feeling every bit of the pain he’s been carrying around for so many years. It’s hard to know how to react, because I don’t have the experiences behind me to understand the true magnitude of his devastation. It’s another reminder of how much life there is between us, but he closes the gap in more ways than one when he leans back against the headboard and pulls me on top of his lap.
With my legs straddling him, he holds me close when he says, “I’ve always been too weak to admit that to anyone.”
“There’s nothing weak about you.”
He pulls me down to him and our lips ghost against each other’s, a touch so soft it could make you cry. His breath becomes mine, and I sigh in the wake of his gentle touch, “I love you so much.”
He then presses his mouth to mine, and I taste his need as his tongue caresses mine. His hands slide under my top and over my breasts, palming me with just the right amount of pressure. I lose myself in an instant, wanting more of everything he has to offer when he touches me like this.
My lips drag along the roughness of his jaw and down the curve of his neck as he unhooks my bra.
“Lift your arms,” he murmurs in a low gruff, and when I do, he slips off my sweater and bra.
Over the past month, David and I have been intimate countless times, enough that my insecurities have mostly dissipated. So, when he rolls my nipples between his fingers, I slump my body down to his, moaning in delicious pleasure.
I gather the hem of his shirt in my hands and peel it off him, exposing the carved muscle along his stomach and broad shoulders. He leans forward and lays me down on my back. His mouth drops over my nipple, his tongue lapping over it while he sucks gently on me.
I open my legs, needy for his touch, and when he settles himself between my thighs, he’s already hard. Pushing against him, I sway my hips up while his fingers work quickly at the waist of my pants. He pulls them, along with my panties, down my legs and then cups me in his hand.
Staring down at me, he takes a finger and drags my arousal for him over my most delicate parts. But it isn’t enough as I reach down between our bodies to unzip his pants and take him in my hand. He so hot to the touch, soft and hard all at the same time, and I wrap my fingers around him. I stroke him the way he likes as he slips a finger inside of me.
My head rolls back, and he kisses my neck while we continue to pleasure each other. We take our time, in no rush for this to end any time soon.
“God, you’re so warm,” he breathes into my skin,
I love how he talks to me when we’re together like this, making me feel like a woman.
He drags his finger out, sliding it through my folds before pushing back inside me. “Yes,” I moan, and he does it again and again until I can’t remain still, and I start to move my hips in sync with his hand. Everything melts and blurs with the attention he’s giving me, that I don’t even notice when he slips the condom on.
With him up on his knees between my legs, he pushes my thighs open as he sinks himself inside me. My hands grip his arms as he goes deep, and he moans, “Fuck, I love how your tiny body feels wrapped around me.”
He takes his time, sliding out, inch by inch, a pleasure so intense it borders on torture. I lift my head and look down between us, watching as he pumps slowly in and out of me. It’s a sight so erotic that it ignites a rush of warmth through my core.
I blush. “Yes.”
“Open wider.” He slips his thumb in his mouth and then drops it to my clit. My hips buck when he starts rubbing me in soft circles. He sits between my legs as he continues to make love to me and touch me so tenderly. “Do you like this?”
Unable to speak as he drives me higher, I nod. He slips his other hand through mine, holding it securely in his, whispering I love yous as my body falters. He keeps his thumb moving, and as time fades between us, electricity ignites beneath skin and bone, and I’m thrown off kilter. The moment my hand trembles in his, he lays his body on top of mine while he continues to rub my clit.
“I want to make you come, babe. I want you to feel how good it can be.”
I close my eyes and pleasure builds. Patiently, he takes his time, never letting up as he circles his thumb over and over and over again. My knees clench and quiver against his hips. Heat starts to build low in my belly, a new, delightfully exquisite tightness that I want to grab on to and run from at the same time with the way he’s making my body feel for the very first time.
When all sensations peak, and the air becomes too thick to breathe, my back arches off the bed in utter abandon. I throw my head up into the crook of his neck, releasing a loud whimper when I lose control over my body. A sizzle of pure euphoria rips through my softest parts, firing through my system, sending me to a place I’ve never been before. A place I’m not sure I ever want to come back from.
Locking my body to his, I feel him swell and throb inside me. He moans as he loses himself with me, thrusting deeply as my muscles pulse around him, and for the first time, I’m finally able to reach this level of intimacy with him. Sparks of light flash from above, falling in glittering shimmers over us, burning our souls as we cling desperately to each other. My body has never ached so beautifully, and I know without a doubt that I want nothing else in this world except to belong wholly to him.
“Don’t ever leave me.”
“I’ll never,” he promises.
“I WANT EIGHT ONE HUNDRED frees on the one twenty. Fast breakouts, and keep those legs up,” David calls out from the pool deck.
I quickly pass Taylor, who’s swimming in the lane next to mine. My times are back down, and I couldn’t be happier. And although my shoulder still pains me every now and then, it’s nothing I can’t power through.
David has been pushing me a bit harder lately, which is causing more swelling, but again, I’m determined to make the most of these last few meets we have coming up. I’d hate for all this work—all this struggle—to go to waste. I’ve pushed myself too hard to allow this final season to slip past me.
After practice, I hit the showers. I close the vinyl curtain behind me before I slip off my towel, always careful to keep my scars concealed. Even though I do what I can to hide them from David, I’m still surprised he hasn’t noticed how many more I’ve added since I made him the promise to stop.
It was just this morning when I last cut. I woke up with a tear-stained face and a misery so tender I was scared to touch it, so instead, I sliced myself open and watched as it drained out of me. The relief was sensational. I cut deeper than all the ones before, gifting myself even greater satisfaction. It bled for a long time after I bandaged it, and now, after being in the water, the soggy scab falls off.
The shower spray takes a stream of blood down the drain as I clean myself and wash my hair. I stand under the water a little while longer and stare at the opening. Watching it grants me even more lightening. It’s just a hint of what I feel when I actually cut, but I’ll take any easement I can.
Eventually, I shut the water off and grab my towel that’s slung over the curtain rod to dry myself off. When it’s secured around me, I step out and pick up my clothes sitting on the bench. Echoes of laughter and talking bounce through the locker room. I quickly slip on my underwear and pants, pulling them up beneath the towel that’s spotted in tinges of pink. I blot my wound and then lower the towel around my waist while I fasten my bra.
When I hear the voices of a few girls drawing closer from behind the half wall dividing the showers from the lockers, I reach down with quick hands to get my shirt. The towel loosens and, before I can grab it, it falls to the wet floor.
My eyes meet Taylor’s.
I snatch up the towel and use it to cover my stomach, but her expression holds the shock of my truth. She drops her eyes down to the blood, which is stark against the white towel, and my skin pricks instantly.
“Oh my God.”
“Leave me alone, Taylor,” I tell her, trying to brush it off because maybe she didn’t see the source.
“What is that all over your stomach?” She takes a step toward me and reaches for my towel.
I slap her hand away. “What’s your problem?”
“Are you cutting yourself?”
“What?” I pitch an octave too high. “No.”
“Then what are all those scars?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
She crosses her arms with smugness. “Drop the towel then.”
I huff loudly, scared and annoyed all at the same time, and walk off. She’s quick to follow though, giving me no privacy to slip on my shirt.
“Seriously, Taylor. Leave me alone.”
“What’s going on?” a girl says as I go to my locker, and my fingers tremble when I work the combination to the lock.
“Cam’s slicing and dicing.”
“Shut the fuck up, Taylor!” I snap when I turn around, garnering the attention of nearly the whole team.
I’m still in my bra when she yanks the stained towel out of my hand, and panic paralyzes me in a hot second.
“Eww, gross.” She reacts as several others stare in disgust.
My body flames in mortification, and I shrug on my shirt as fast as I can, slip on my flip-flops, and grab my bag before rushing out. Water from my hair soaks the shoulders of my shirt. I walk around the pool deck to make a quick getaway, but Taylor is right behind me, taunting, “You seriously need help.”
“Back off!”
“Hey,” David shouts from his office at the top of the stairs, but I don’t stop. “What’s going on?”
God, I want to fucking die.
“Cam’s cutting herself,” Taylor announces for everyone to hear. All eyes land on me, and I immediately hear David running down the stairs when I bolt. “Her stomach is hacked up and bleeding.”
“Taylor!” David shouts as I run. “My office. Now!”
Flying through the doors, I feel like vomiting. Sleet falls from the sky, pelting my face as I hightail it to my car. In seconds, I’ve got the key in the ignition and am speeding recklessly out of the parking lot.
With my stomach in knots, I drive too fast, rolling through stop signs in my bit to get home before I break. I take in choppy breaths my lungs choke on before screaming out and slamming my fists against the steering wheel.
I hate Taylor so much, I could kill her with my bare hands. She’s such a bitch, and now, everyone knows the freak I am. They all know my secret, and for what? So she could have the satisfaction of tearing me down and humiliating me in front of everyone? And what the hell is David saying to her right now? Whatever it is, I’m sure she’s eating up the attention he’s giving her, even if it’s pure hate he’s spewing her way. Everyone knows she gets off to him—she’s so fucking desperate for him to notice her.
I wish I could stab the knife of truth—that it’s me who sleeps in his bed—through her tarred heart just to see her suffer.
Slamming the front door behind me, I leave fuming hate in my path up the stairs, into my bedroom, and then my bathroom, where I kick the door shut. With nothing left to lose, and nothing left to hide, I grab my father’s leather shaving bag for the second time today.
My ice-cold hair, which is still wet, plasters around my face, and with nearly numb fingers, I grab my
dad’s straight razor and pull it open.
Trembling.
I take in a deep breath, feeling sick to my stomach now that David knows I’ve been lying to him. I feel myself losing control, so I take it back when I dig the blade deep into a new patch of skin.
I watch as it sinks into my flesh, and suddenly, I’m a million colors of tingling remedy. Blood oozes out, thick and dark, and my lips lift in gratitude for the delight. The warmth melts my icy skin, and I drop the razor, slouching farther down until I’m lying on the floor. Molecules and atoms, every tiny fragment of me radiates, freeing me from the weight of the world. My cheek lies flat against the chilly slate floor, and I find peace in the sensation.
I drift far away to a place where nothing can touch me, suspended in blank space, the only sound coming from my slow thumping heart. I turn to my side, curl up in a ball, and close my eyes. My cell phone rings from the pocket of my wool coat that’s still wrapped around me. It’s David, I’m sure, because he’s the only one who calls me these days. I’ve lost everyone else. After what just happened at school, I’m pretty sure I’ll lose him too.
The ringing returns, another call I can’t face because I’m not ready to come back down only to be rejected.
You lied to me, Cam. I can’t be with someone I can’t trust. It’s over.
Silence returns as solace fades into the fear of sadness I’ll be forced to endure when he’s gone. Maybe I was never meant to have him. Maybe this is where I was always meant to be—alone.
Why would anyone want a soul as broken as mine?
I reach into my coat pocket to see three missed calls from David before I turn it off, close my eyes, and drift back to my dad.
“Happy birthday to you. Happy birthday to you,” my parents sing as the candles glow over my Dora the Explorer cake.
“Go on, sweetheart,” my daddy says with a great big smile on his face. “Make a wish, and blow out your candles.”
I look down at the five flames and make a silent wish to have a hundred more wishes before blowing out two cheeks full of air. They clap their hands, and my daddy takes me in his arms and lifts me up. I circle my arms around his neck and my legs around his waist.
