The day after tomorrow’s the big day.
The day I’ve been dreading, which threatens to yank me out of everything wonderful I’ve shared with Jay and drag me into my dark place again.
I’m scared as shit about that. I was agitated a few weeks ago, but Jay’s offered such a good distraction. Helped dull my awareness of the impending pain and given me something to look forward to instead.
“Oh, fuck,” Jay says. He grabs his phone off the nightstand.
“What’s up?”
“I meant to download this new Louis C.K. comedy special to listen to while I’m on my break tomorrow.”
“Louis C.K.?”
“He’s a stand-up comedian. I’ve already listened to all the specials I downloaded. I heard he was coming to Atlanta in a few months, and when I went to check it out, I saw he had a new special out.”
“So that’s what you’re doing whenever I see you with your earbuds in? You’re listening to a comedian?”
“Not just a comedian. I love stand-up comedy. Richard Pryor, Tim Allen, Joan Rivers, Rita Rudner.”
“Who the fuck is Rita Rudner?”
“She’s one of my favorites. She’s from the 80s. Razor-sharp wit. Clever-ass jokes.”
There’s that excited expression again, and that look in his eyes like he’s floating on fucking Cloud Nine.
He keys into his phone for a bit before saying, “There. Downloading. It’ll be all set for my break tomorrow.” He looks like he’s so damn proud of himself before he repositions himself in the bed, placing his hand back on my abs.
“Come on. You don’t get to act this adorable and then expect me not to defile the crap out of you,” I say.
“I didn’t say we couldn’t mess around, but we should at least finish this one episode.” He winks at me as he pets my torso. I like when he touches my body like it belongs to him. His attention returns to the TV.
“God, he’s incredible,” Jay says as we both enjoy the model on the screen, more fixated on his hot body than giving any shits about the narrative that’s trying to explain the crime his character committed.
“You think he’s hotter than this hot slab of meat you’re in bed with?” I ask.
Jay turns to me, beaming. “He’s okay.” He slides his hand down my torso and lifts the covers to reveal my fully erect dick. “And big as he looks in those jeans, I doubt he can compete with that,” he admits.
“You just remember that.” I roll over on top of him.
I feel frisky. Like I did when I was in my fucking early twenties. Seeing him all excited about stand-up comedians got me all worked up.
We start making out again. “The episode,” he insists between kisses, but he’s not trying to push me away again. He surrenders to me. I’ve won, and I know it. Now for some victory ass.
“I’d feel bad using you like a blow-up doll if you weren’t enjoying it so much,” I say.
My phone vibrates on the nightstand. Again and again. I try not to look, but one glance over, and I see the familiar number. My face flushes.
“You got a little trick lined up?” Jay teases.
“Shut up. The only nights you haven’t been here have been the nights I have group sessions, so you sure as fuck know that isn’t the case.”
He beams, like he’s proud of how my schedule has revolved around him the past couple of weeks, and he should be. I love being able to sneak home together and spend the morning coordinating exactly how far apart we’ll arrive to work to keep anyone from being suspicious.
But despite my attempts at losing myself in him, I’m distracted.
Why did she have to call right now?
Couldn’t I have had one more night?
I’ve already been dreading the next few days. Knew I’d have to find an excuse to get out of fucking around with Jay, but I’ve been in such denial since we started messing around.
I’d rather just pretend it isn’t real.
But as with so many things in my life, my thoughts keep going back to the darkness.
The sound of my phone vibrating on the nightstand doesn’t just conjure up my memories with her, but memories of the crippling pain I suffered with for so long…the pain that still returns on occasion, sieging my body and capturing my mind.
In an instant, I’m transported back to the days when I wasn’t strong enough to battle my emotions. When I was alone and helpless and afraid.
15
Jay
Something changed the moment he got that call. He went from being silly and laughing to being totally serious in an instant.
Who the fuck could it have been that made him do a complete one-eighty? And why is he starting to sweat?
My insecurity creeped in when I first heard the phone vibrating against the nightstand. I thought it might have been another guy. Even if it was, it’s not like we’re exclusive. Hell, we’ve only been doing this for two weeks. I don’t have a right to pry into his extracurricular interests, but I don’t think that’s what this is. He’s not acting shady. He’s acting like something scared the shit out of him. Like it was Death itself trying to get ahold of him.
Between the sweat beading on his forehead and his ghostly pale flesh, it seems to have set off an episode. Was it the sound of the phone vibrating? Surely that wasn’t enough to surprise him.
Whatever the reason for the shift in his attitude, I know what my job tonight is: to help him forget.
I lean up and kiss him again, but he doesn’t kiss back. As I pull away, I see that distant look in his eyes. I reach down to feel his girth. He’s still hard, but I remind myself that it’s probably just the meds. “Reese?”
“Sorry,” he says. “I don’t know if I can do anything else tonight.”
“What’s wrong? Talk to me.”
His Adam’s apple shifts as he swallows. “Nothing,” he says. “I just…I’m not feeling it right now.”
He must know I can tell his behavior changed entirely because of that call, but in the grips of this mood that’s captured him, he can’t face whatever it’s stirred. He rolls onto his back.
I feel empty. Like he’s just robbed me of my joy, of my excitement, of my playfulness.
“Who was it?” I ask.
“What?”
“Who just called you?”
He shrugs.
“Come on, Reese. One minute you’re crawling all over me and the next you look like you’re about to have a panic attack.”
“It’s not like a guy or anything,” he says quickly, as though that was my biggest concern.
“That wasn’t what I was worried about,” I say.
He’s quiet again. I can tell there’s a lot more to it, but I recall what the articles I’ve read about PTSD said about pressing. That I need to give him some space and not overwhelm him.
“It was just someone from my past. Someone who reminds me of a lot of shit I went through.”
I’m relieved that he told me that much.
He’s quiet for a minute before he says, “Look, I know we’ve been going at this pretty regularly, but do you mind if I have a few days to myself?”
I tense up at the suggestion. Is he trying to get rid of me? Does he not want to keep this up?
No. I push my insecurity to the back of my mind. He just started acting this way over that phone call. And if it’s someone from his past, maybe a friend he served with, then it’s likely forcing him to relive all those nightmares that are the reason he has episodes to begin with.
“Whatever, that’s fine.” Shit. I tried to say it like I really am fine, but I can’t hide my disappointment. Can’t hide that I just want to curl into a ball and cry.
“I just need a few days,” he adds.
Why does he have to be so goddamn vague about it?
And a few days? That could be two days…a week…longer? I’m spoiled with all the nights we’ve spent together…all these amazing nights. To think I’ll have to do without even a few with Reese is painful. There’s an ache in me—a hunger.
Like he just told me I’d have to go days without food or water.
I try to tell myself he’ll be fine. That he’ll snap out of whatever funk he’s in soon enough and things will be back to normal, but I’m scared as hell that won’t happen. That if I give him space he’ll just walk away from this and never call me again.
I don’t want to believe he could do that, but if it’s that easy for him to walk away now, maybe he needs to since I can feel that these fuck sessions are moving towards something else. Something that maybe neither of us is ready for.
“Okay, Reese. Just…let me know, and I’ll come running back into your arms again.”
It’s a joke. I’m hoping it’ll lighten his mood, but it doesn’t work. He rolls off me and relaxes on his pillow, staring forward as Sultry Scandals continues playing on the TV. He breathes quickly, his chest rising and falling rapidly.
He’s gone.
Lost in the past again.
Lost in pain.
I wish I could pull him out of it, but I don’t think that’ll be happening tonight. All I can do is be here for him.
When the episode ends, I turn the TV and the lamp on the nightstand off. I tell him, “Night,” but he doesn’t respond. I’m not sure he even heard me.
I lie down in bed, facing him. The moonlight that breaks through the blinds shifts in his eyes as he stares at the ceiling.
It’s just a few days, I tell myself.
And maybe he’ll rethink even that once he finds his balance again.
I hope so.
My anxiety about his uneasiness keeps me up for another hour before I drift off to sleep. When I wake up, he’s already in the bathroom. Hasn’t put on his prosthetic yet. He grips the sink with one hand for support as he dries off with a towel. I hope he’s already recovered, but when he enters the bedroom, he skips our usual session of fooling around, puts on his prosthetic, and changes into his work clothes. We don’t talk except when he plans out the time I should leave so that I can arrive at work without anyone suspecting what we’re up to. We don’t ever kiss goodbye, but for some reason, when he leaves today, I wish we had. I needed the reassurance.
I remind myself that we’re not like that.
It’s just fucking, and I can set aside my own insecurities while he recovers from whatever he’s going through.
Still, I can’t shake the fear that he might think there’s something wrong with us.
I remind myself that all this started when he got that phone call last night, but the insecurity within me has my thoughts spiraling off into so many different directions.
I wish he’d just let me in and tell me why it was so goddamn important for him to spend these next few days on his own.
16
Reese
I knew I’d get another call today. I just didn’t know what time. When her number pops up on my phone, I tense up. Sweat collects on my forehead and palms.
I can’t answer. Not today. I won’t even listen to the message. I know what she’ll say. That she’s sorry for my loss. That she misses me. That she misses him. That she wishes we could be a part of each other’s lives.
I wish I could do that. If ever there’s someone who wants to be there for me, it’s Melanie. She was a saint—an angel who would have battled her way through hell for me. Not just because I’m the one she wanted to spend her life with but because she’s a good person.
Guilt rises inside me as I think of all the times she’s tried to reach out, and all the times I’ve just ignored her.
I should be able to talk to a woman I was married to…a woman whose only mistake in our relationship was how she continued to love me to the point where it turned on her. I remember years earlier when she would ask me, “Where are you, Reese?” It was before I looked for help. She’d encouraged me to do it, but I wouldn’t. I didn’t want to talk to some shrink who didn’t have a clue what it was like to be in a war, who couldn’t possibly understand what I experienced. Neither could Melanie, even though she wanted to. I feel bad about us for so many reasons. Because she loves me. Because she did everything she could, and it was never enough. She wants to at least be friends, but I can’t since she just reminds me of all the darkness in my past, and I’m terrified that bringing her back into my life will invite back all those awful memories and drag me back to that nightmarish place I was once in.
Even worse, I’m scared that I’ll hurt, not just myself, but her too. And I’ve already hurt her enough.
I wish I could push her call out of my head so that I can get through the day.
I considered not even coming in—taking the day off like I’ve done in the past—but I know where that leads. I’d just lie in bed, my mind wandering through corridors and labyrinths of thoughts that will only bring me shaking to my knees in grief and horror. The past two years, Laura’s encouraged me to work through the pain, and it’s been more successful than trying to grapple with these things on my own. I have her number if I need anything, but she’s on vacation with her kids in Florida, and I don’t plan on bothering her.
I head into the warehouse, not looking at Jay. I’ve avoided looking at him since I left yesterday morning.
He knows something’s up. He can tell I’m agitated, and if anyone deserves to know the truth, it’s him. But I don’t even want to face this myself, let alone talk to him about it. I’m just grateful that he’s backed off. All I’ve gotten from him has been a text to ask if I’d be interested in meeting up after work today. I just can’t do it, though.
Not tonight.
It’d be better for me to have him over than be alone, but I’d be useless to him. Wouldn’t be in the mood for sex or being playful. I’d be in my own world…and he’d be sitting there, watching me suffer. Feeling uneasy. He didn’t sign up for that.
“William, do you have the BOLs for yesterday?” I ask as I approach him. “Just got off the phone with corporate, and they’re trying to find out where a couple of shipments went missing. I need to fax that over so they can stop riding up my ass about it.”
“On it,” William says.
Jay stacks some boxes on a pallet. He wipes the sweat off his brow, taking a long breath before grabbing the next box and stacking it on top of the last. I imagine his body against mine as he offers me the sort of comfort I sure as fuck need right now.
He glances at me, his eyes narrowed like he’s trying to figure out what’s wrong with me, assuring me that he’s as suspicious as I figured he would be. I avoid looking at him and return to my office.
I keep busy scanning and filing invoices. Soon I hear a knock on the door.
My body tenses up. “It’s open.”
Jay shuffles in. “Hey, man. You get my text earlier?”
I can tell by his tone he’s worried. I just hope he’s not worried about us because that would piss me off, especially after the past couple of weeks—the amazing nights we’ve shared where he’s made me lose track of all the pain of my past.
“I got the text,” I say curtly. God, I’m such an asshole.
“Oh, okay. I know you said a few days, so sorry, it wasn’t meant to bother you. Take as much time as you need.”
Although I can tell by the way he says it that he’s begging, Please don’t take too much time.
As Jay waits in front of the door, me being quiet as fuck, I’m reminded of how I treat Melanie. Of this part of me that can be so cold and distant.
“I’ll just leave you to your thing then,” he says.
He starts out, but I can’t let him leave thinking that I don’t want to spend time with him, especially when he’s the only thing that makes any of this any easier. If there’s anyone I want to spend tonight with, it’s Jay. He’s the only person who can make me feel normal when the fireworks of memories constantly shoot through my brain, scattering and growing into an epic display. He’s the only thing that can pull my attention away from that show to another one that is just as explosive when we’re together.
“I’m sorry,” I say. I ball my
hand into a fist as I fight my impulse that just wants to be a recluse and hide from the whole fucking world.
Jay turns around in the doorway, and it’s the first time today I’ve allowed myself to appreciate that beautiful face. Even covered in a layer of dust and sweat, he’s hot as sin. His lips curl upward. I can tell that he’s pleased that I went out of my way to catch him before he walked out.
“I’ve just been so stressed these past two days,” I continue. “I’m doing the best I can, but it’s just a lot.”
He approaches my desk. “Who was it, Reese?” he asks. “I know that call triggered something. You’re not okay, and I’m worried as fuck about you. You’re not acting like yourself.”
It reminds me of something Melanie might have said. Words so similar. Maybe even the same words on some occasions.
“It’s like you were there one minute and then suddenly you were transported back to another time.”
If only he knew how right he was. I feel so vulnerable with him being close enough to notice. I don’t like feeling weak, but I’ve been willing to risk it to receive all the other benefits that I get from being with him.
“Today’s not an easy day for me,” I say.
Just tell him why. Laura would be so impressed if you could just vocalize it. But as I start to say it, I realize my mouth won’t open. Fuck.
He waits patiently, and when I can finally bring myself to say something, I say the only thing that I know will help, but goes against everything I’m feeling right now: “This might sound weird…and if it does, just bail. Can you spend tonight with me?”
“Of course. I’ve spent plenty of nights with you.”
“No. Like I just need you to be there with me. I can’t promise that I’m going to be normal or shit. Probably not going to even be able to have sex, but I think it would help me out. I’m sorry if I’m being evasive, but I just can’t talk about it, okay?”
“Yeah, I’ll be there, Reese.”
“I can make like dinner or something. Not like a date. Just to eat.” Cooking and cleaning always are good distractions for me anyway.
Between These Sheets Page 9
