The Ground Rules: Undone

by Roya Carmen

I just can’t see it.

  We enjoy another delicious dinner at ‘the dunes’ — grilled steak with Portobello mushrooms, a delicious dill potato salad and strawberry shortcake for dessert, made by me. Gwen and I exchange a few glances across the dinner table. I can tell she feels sorry for me, and pities Gabe even more. Her gaze rests occasionally on him as he carries on a conversation with Greg; a laugh here and then, a shrug, a flailing of the hand, his usual casual self. He’s completely clueless, unsuspecting. As far as he knows, we’re finally free of Bridget and Weston, and life is back to normal.

  But Gwen and I know better.

  I feel like a heavy weight has been lifted off me. It felt so good to finally confide in someone, to let someone in on my secret. And Gwen didn’t judge or preach. She simply listened. Truth be told, I don’t think she quite knew what to say. For once she didn’t have any wise advice. But I sure could have used some. I suppose just having someone to talk to is enough for now.

  “So I hear the neighbors two houses down are doing a fireworks display again,” Gwen says, a glass of red in her hand. “We can watch them from our beach.”

  “The Smiths,” Greg tells us. “They do it every summer.”

  “Isn’t that illegal?” I ask. “Fireworks on residential property?”

  Gabe laughs. “Always the rule follower, this one.”

  Oh I wish…

  If I had followed “The Rules” like I was supposed to, I wouldn’t be in this mess today.

  Gabe drains his bottle of beer. “Legal or not, it sounds great to me.”

  “We’ll bring lounge chairs and blankets out there,” Gwen tells him. “It’ll be fun.”

  Yes…fun.

  Just what we all need.

  I cuddle with Chloe, wrapped in a cozy purple blanket on one of the lounge chairs we’ve set up on the beach. We have a fire going to keep us warm. Every now and then, Greg adds a log or stokes the fire, keeping it going. We’ve been sitting here for a while, watching the sunset, nursing drinks (virgin for me — but thankfully no one notices) and taking in the beauty before us. For a little while, I almost forget all my problems. But every single time Gwen shoots me a look, the expression on her face reminds me of what I’ve gotten myself into — pity still pools in her eyes.

  Gabe and Claire are huddled together in the lounge chair right next to us, under their own blanket, a fleece reproduction of the American flag — very patriotic. Claire is such a daddy’s girl. She absolutely monopolizes him. Chloe doesn’t seem to mind too much. She’s almost at that age where girls start to pull from their dads.

  He whispers something in Claire’s ear and she laughs. Her sweet little giggle makes me smile. I kind of wish I was cuddling under that American flag with them. I’ve missed him. He catches my eye and shoots me a wink, almost as if he can read my mind.

  The sky darkens, and the voices around us get louder and rowdier. At about ten or so, we are all stunned by the first explosion of lights in the dark sky — a large blue starburst. I, for one, did not expect anything this big from a private fireworks show.

  Claire stands tall on the chair. “Wow,” she says with wide eyes.

  “Color me impressed,” I say to Gwen.

  “Yeah, they always put on quite a show,” she tells me. “They must spend a fortune.”

  Burst after burst, the show goes on before us, leaving everyone speechless. The loud conversations and rowdiness a thing of the past. This is the first time we’ve spent the Fourth of July here and I make a mental note to do it again. But then I think, I’m not sure we’ll all be together a year from now. Somehow I can’t picture Gabe and I and the girls…and Weston’s baby. The scene is all wrong in my head — all distorted and odd angles and shapes, as fucked up as a Picasso. I just can’t see it. I feel the familiar lump in my throat as I watch the final display — a series of fast shooting bangs and burst of colors mixing, turning the sky into a work of art.

  I just can’t see it.

  Gwen takes Claire into her arms. “You look exhausted, sweetie,” she whispers against her ear. “You want auntie Gwinnie to put you to bed?”

  She rests her head against Gwen’s shoulder. “Yes,” she mumbles with lazy lids. Her body is limp like a ragdoll’s.

  “You too,” Gwen says to Chloe. “Time for bed.”

  Chloe gives us a kiss goodnight.

  Gabe kisses her on the forehead. “Goodnight, little monkey.”

  “Thank you,” I say to Gwen. “We’ll be in soon.”

  “Take all the time you need,” she tells us. “Spend all night here if you want. Talk and stuff,” she adds with a tight smile as she sets off toward the house.

  I know exactly what she means by ‘talk and stuff’. And I know this is my opportunity but I don’t want to ruin this perfect weekend. But then again, it is almost over — we’re leaving tomorrow morning. Maybe this is the time. But… perhaps I should just wait. I’ve never been so confused.

  Gabe buries his empty bottle of beer in the sand. And he studies me. His gaze lingers on me for what seems like an eternity. “Where have you been this weekend, Ella?”

  I look up at him, not able to say a word.

  “You seem distracted…distant. Are you not having a good time?”

  I smile at him. “I am. It’s been the best trip.”

  “It’s been great,” he agrees, looking up at the dark sky. And then he turns to me with a playful smile. “But I think it’s been missing a little something.”

  I can’t help but smile. I know exactly what he’s saying.

  He sits up and pulls off his fleece throw. “You think you have room on that chair of yours?”

  I smile at him. “I don’t know…you’re a pretty big guy.”

  He laughs. “I think you can make room,” he says with a wicked smile. “I think you want to make room.”

  “Oh do I, now?”

  He bites his lip. “Oh, you do,” he says as he stands and joins me under the purple blanket. The warmth of his body against mine feels amazing. I hadn’t realized how cold I was.

  “Much better,” he says, his eyes glued to mine.

  “Much better.”

  Suddenly I find myself speechless. It’s so wonderful being close to him like this again. I try to forget about everything else. I just want to enjoy being next to him. He shoots me a playful grin — the kind of smile that says it all. Unsuspecting, he’s so carefree, so happy and it absolutely tears me apart. Maybe just tonight, I can pretend it’s just us two, like it used to be. I can let go of everything else and give him the fun wife he’s known forever. I don’t need to drag him down with me just yet.

  I want him to kiss me. We haven’t kissed in ages. We haven’t touched each other in forever. I crave him, and I’m sure he craves me just as much.

  He leans in and presses his mouth against mine. His kiss is soft and warm, and perfect. I trail my finger along the rough scruff on his face. I relish the feel of his tongue on mine. This is the kind of kiss which is really hard to stop. I get lost in it and savor it a little longer.

  And when the sensation of his kiss travels to my sex, I finally manage to pull away. “You…better be careful…kissing me like that,” I warn him, the words caught between ragged breaths. “That kind of kiss usually leads places.”

  His smile is playful. “That’s exactly the point.”

  I smile a nervous grin. “We can’t…here…they can see us. Everyone can see us.”

  “It’s pitch dark,” he whispers against my ear. “No one can see.”

  The feel of his warm hand on the inside of my thigh is very distracting. “I don’t think…” I can’t really see us having sex here and now. Because I know the way I feel. Despite the crushing guilt, my body desperately wants him, craves his familiar touch. I’d lose control — I just know it. And people might definitely see that.

  “Why don’t we go inside?” I suggest, trying to talk some sense into the man.

  His hand slides further north, to the warm crook of my thighs,
and I find myself spreading my legs for him. “But we’re so comfy here,” he breathes.

  I close my eyes. Now, I can’t seem to move…can’t seem to think straight.

  He pulls down the thin strap of my summer dress, and kisses my shoulder softly. “I was thinking about you last night, when Greg and I were playing cards.”

  I was thinking about you too.

  His tongue trails down my collarbone as his hand presses softly against my sex, over the cotton of my panties. “Remember when we used to play cards in my dorm room in college?”

  I smile at the memory. “How can I forget?”

  “You used to always win and I’d have to give you a back rub.”

  I close my eyes, feeling the pressure building in me. Part of me wants him to take it further and take off my panties. He seems to be taking things slowly. “But you’d always turn it into more,” I remind him with a playful smile.

  “I did,” he laughs softly against my ear. “I always ended up fingering you, didn’t I?”

  Damn. He’s officially turning me on. There’s no going back now. “You did.”

  His mouth tugs at my ear. “You liked it?”

  “I think you know the answer to that,” I breathe, the words almost inaudible. Oh God, I did. I loved it.

  He toys with the trim of my cotton panties, playing with me. “Do you still like it?”

  “I do,” I tell him, and the words come out high-pitched, almost pleading, like I’m just about to beg.

  He trails his finger, skirts the edges of my curls, teasing. “It’s been ages since I’ve done that to you.”

  “It has...”

  He pulls his hand away and trails it back to my thigh, and I almost want to kill him. He cannot tease me like that.

  “You know why I used to do it so much?”

  I slide my hand under his shirt and feel the heat of his stomach. He’s not the only one who can play. “Because I liked it?”

  He laughs. His breath is warm against my neck. “Well, that too, but it was more because I wanted to get you off before we had sex because…” He laughs — his adorable off-kilter smile stretches wide across his face. “Remember, I only lasted about fifteen seconds back then.”

  I smile at the memory. “Yes, I remember,” I tell him, kissing his rough beard. “You’ve definitely improved in that department.”

  His hand makes its way back to my panties. “Yeah, but I haven’t had you for so long, I probably wouldn’t be any better tonight.”

  I bite my lip. “Well, I guess you’ll just have to…” I trail off and swallow hard.

  He smiles, a devilish look on his face. “Finger you?”

  I nod a yes and he smiles. I’m not quite sure if he’s being serious or just kidding around, if he’s teasing, but then…

  He finally slips his hand under the cotton. His hand is warm and feels rough against the softness of my sex.

  I close my eyes at the wonderful sensation of his fingers sliding slowly against me. He stares at me as he touches me. It’s dark, but the moonlight gives off enough light for me to see the expression on his face — intense, playful — I can tell he’s seriously turned on.

  He slides his fingers down and presses them inside, hard and deep. “Damn, Ella, you’re so wet.”

  “We’ve been…” I breathe, barely able to speak, “talking about this for five minutes... what… did you…”

  I grab onto him and slide my free hand under his navel, trailing my fingers along the band of his pants, teasing him. As he touches me still, I undo his fly and reach for him.

  He groans into my mouth. “I’ve got a pretty serious stiffy going,” he mumbles against my lips.

  My smile presses against his mouth. “Yes, I can see that.”

  He presses the palm of his hand into me in long hard pushes, the up-and-down movements of his arm hidden under the blanket.

  I just let go. I want to be young and free again…wild. I want to forget about everything else. About all my problems. I want to pretend they don’t exist. I just want to feel pleasure, if only for a minute. I haven’t let myself have pleasure in weeks — I’ve been strong. But in his skilled hands, my body is silently screaming. “Don’t stop,” I whisper.

  Any thread of composure I had left is lost as I hold on to him tight, my face buried in the cotton of his shirt. I press down hard against his hand, up and down, feeling the delicious pressure build. I remind myself no one can see or hear us in the complete darkness of the starry night… and I let go. His free arm wraps tighter around me as I’m brought to climax, he buries his face in my hair. My moans are muffled against him.

  “I love hearing you,” he whispers.

  When I’m finally brought back down from the best orgasm I’ve had in a long time, I lay against him. I think about this wonderful husband of mine. He’s been so good to me. He doesn’t deserve this. I’ve been so distant and I can tell he’s been curious. But he hasn’t been angry… he hasn’t pestered me, hasn’t demanded answers. And all this time I’ve been lying to him, keeping something huge from him.

  I sit up and look up at him and I realize how much I love him.

  He smiles. “Still got it?”

  I can’t help but smile. “Definitely. That was amazing.”

  I want to make him feel as good as he just made me feel. I want to give him pleasure. I cuddle close against him, still wrapped up in the cozy blanket. “I want,” I start, the words a whisper in his ear, a little strained. My hand finds its way into his pants again and he grins. I bite my lip and shoot him a little smile — he knows what I’m up to. “I want to…blow your mind.” I whisper, my mouth pressed against his neck.

  He swallows hard and doesn’t say a word. I think I’ve rendered him speechless. I shoot him a playful smile and slide down his body and bury myself under the purple blanket.

  And I give him what he does deserve.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  …somewhere no one knows us.

  The car is quiet as we make our way back home. The girls are watching movies on the matching mini DVD players rigged up to the backs of the front seats. Music is playing but I’m not really listening to the words. Gabe is uncharacteristically quiet. On the drive over, he had been talking non-stop.

  I never did answer his question — where have I been? I press my hand to my belly and think about my baby. It is only an inch or so long and doesn’t even weigh an ounce. But its body is taking shape, its limbs are already formed, its heart already beating. I’ve grown attached to him (or her). In the early days, a part of me wanted to lose the baby desperately. But now? I don’t know anymore.

  One thing hasn’t changed though, I still think this baby could shatter all our lives.

  Gabe digs through the snack bag we’ve brought along and grabs a bag of peanuts. He offers me some and I decline, wondering if I should eat peanuts. I read somewhere something about eating peanuts during pregnancy and peanut allergies. I decide to look into it further. How crazy… I realize. Part of me worries about such things and another (very small) part is still considering putting an end to this life. Although I really can’t see myself going through with it, but the least I can do at this point is consider my options as Dr. Fisher suggested.

  I sigh and close my eyes and lay back for a nap. I’m so exhausted.

  “There’s something I’ve been meaning to talk to you about,” Gabe says out of the blue, his tone unusually grave.

  I shoot back up, my eyes wide.

  He knows.

  I swallow hard. My throat suddenly feels so dry. “Yes?”

  “I haven’t mentioned it before because I didn’t want to mess up our weekend.”

  My heart hammers in my chest. Does he know? I can’t help but wonder if he knows. “Yes. What is it?”

  “I’ve been talking to this guy,” he starts and I feel my whole body relax — this isn’t about me.

  “Yes?”

  “Well, anyway, this guy, Robert Williams, owns a chain of high-end furniture stores ou
t west,” he carries on, his eyes fixed on the road. “Really nice stuff.”

  “Oh yeah,” I say, intrigued. “How do you know him?”

  “We met at a trade show, ages ago. We’ve been friends since.”

  I wonder where this is going. “Uh-huh.”

  “Well, anyway, he’s looking for a project manager to oversee the running of his stores in California and Arizona.”

  I bounce up off my seat, his words finally sinking in. “What?”

  “I know, it’s crazy,” he says, shooting me a tight smile. “All of us picking up and moving down south.”

  I can’t move down south. “It is. Have you been considering this?”

  He winces, his eyes still on the road. “I have…a little. I’m so tired of the winters here, and honestly, I think we need a change.”

  I can’t move. Not with this baby. He’s Weston’s too. Weston might want to be part of his life. I can’t drag his child thousands of miles across the country. This nightmare is turning into an even bigger mess.

  I decide to give him the benefit of the doubt, let him tell me why he wants to do this. “What do you mean, ‘we need a change’?”

  “Well, to be honest, I think you need a change. You haven’t been happy. I can see it, Ella.”

  He’s right. But he has no idea.

  He doesn’t look at me, his eyes still glued to the road. “And this whole thing with Weston…it really has done a number on you. I think it would do you good to move as far away from him as possible. I’d move you to New Zealand if I could.”

  My stomach drops at the sound of Weston’s name. It would be so easy to run away. If I didn’t have a part of him inside me, it’s what I would do. I would do it tomorrow.

  The tears make their way down my cheeks as I tell Gabe, “But we can’t run away… from our jobs, our friends, our families.”

  He shoots me a look, confusion clouding his features. “I’m sorry, Ella. I didn’t mean to upset you. I just thought…”

  I wipe my cheek with the heel of my hand. “I know.”

  Every now and then, when Gabe is out of the house, I scurry down to the basement and I open the box of old books I have in storage. I pull out What to Expect When You’re Expecting. I’m not sure why I’ve kept it, knowing I wouldn’t be having any more babies. Nostalgia, I suppose. I flip to the second month portion. I’m at eight and a half weeks now. According to my book, the baby is starting to look like an actual human being.