Dare to Love

by Penny Dixon

  ‘Huh,’ Richard grunts beside me and throws his leg over mine.

  I know that these are fringe fears. My deepest one is that the age gap between us is too great. That when the heat of the summer wears off we won’t have enough in common. What if I can’t keep up with him sexually? What if he’s lying about older women? His babies’ mothers are all younger than him. Mel could be his daughter.

  Who am I kidding? This may not be perfect but it’s more secure than anything I could ever have with Grant. And I’m not convinced by the reasons he gave for Carlisle warning me about him.

  How will Richard feel when… if he finds out about my infidelity? Will he be as condemning as I’ve been of him? Does he have a right to be? I’ve been so self-righteous. Would it be easier to tell him, even the scores up and move forward together? Can I survive with Richard without Grant in my head? Is it enough to keep him as a precious memory and conjure him up when necessary? I could do that. Keep the colours vivid, keep at bay any creeping sepia. The upheaval of going will be too great.

  My vibrating phone draws me out of my reverie. It’s a text. Don’t want to lose u. I love u; like he read my thoughts. Leaning on my side to shield the phone, I answer. You won’t. Love u 2. Now he’s tapping into my thoughts. Let’s hope they don’t both tap in at the same time, they could be in for a surprise.

  The next day we talk over breakfast. The atmosphere feels easier, though there’s still a whisper of fog in my head. He’s had four sessions with Dr Patterson. It’s not been easy. He had to put himself in the place of the boy. It made him sick, physically sick. I tell him it did me too when I saw the pictures. It feels like a bond. Dr Patterson suggested he wrote a letter of apology to the boy, expressing all that he’s come to realise about the way it may have affected him. He’s written six, each one conveying a different thought as it emerged. Did I want to see them? No I don’t. They are his apologies. It’s enough for me that he’s accepting responsibility for his action and not hiding behind his alcoholic stupor.

  He’s not out the woods yet. He’s still seeing Dr Patterson. It’s been a painful experience but he cares enough about our marriage to do whatever it takes. Can we give it another try?

  It’s what I’d hoped for but had almost convinced myself wouldn’t happen. We can begin again, but the last six months can’t be erased, rubbed out without a trace. Our situation reminds me of an Etch a Sketch picture. Even though the picture’s been erased, a ghost remains; held at a certain angle it’s still visible. Like erasing files from the computer, but somewhere they lurk in the system and can be recovered by an expert.

  ‘Can we give it another try?’ There’s a pleading in his voice that tugs at my heart.

  ‘Yes. Yes, let’s give it another try.’

  ‘You’ll move back into our room?’

  ‘Seems like I have already.’

  He looks so happy, like he’s just won the lottery.

  My phone rings. It’s Grant. My heart’s pounding but I let it ring. There’s a text. Babes, don’t give up on us. I love u.

  ‘I’ll answer later,’ I tell Richard. ‘People want to know if I’m circulating yet.’ He takes the day off and we go to lunch in Nottingham. An Italian Bistro we both like. I get another text from Grant while I’m in the toilet.

  Babes, what’s up?

  I’m not giving up on us. Love u 2. Trying to work things out here.

  Call me soon, he replies.

  Richard feels like a merry-go-round, gentle lifts and a safe ride. Whichever horse you sit on, the ride’s essentially the same. A life with him will be one of constantly changing horses – holidays, dinners, lunches, BBQs at friend’s houses, discussions about retirement and pensions, about timeshares and holiday homes. Grant offers me a big dipper. Amazing highs and I’m sure some crashes. With him my stomach churns with excitement, I’m breathless with the intensity of our encounters. He’s the master of the ride, the ticket collector, the lever operator.

  The next day I’m officially back at work. All my clients tell me how well I look. Whatever I soaked up is glowing through me. They assume it’s the sun. Only my friend Cindy guesses there may be something else.

  ‘This isn’t just sun, girl,’ she says when we meet for coffee after work. ‘Who is he?’

  ‘A nice memory,’ I tell her, closing the subject.

  I call Grant in my lunch break.

  ‘Hi babes. Waz up?’ He sounds laid-back, the anxiety of last night gone from his voice.

  ‘You sound good, where’re you?’

  ‘On the beach, in our spot, thinking about you. Where’re you?’

  ‘In the office, it’s my lunch break.’ I’m back there with him in an instant. ‘What’re you wearing?’

  ‘Just my black trunks. What d’you want me to be wearing?’

  ‘You know you look good in anything. I love you in anything and in nothing.’

  ‘Girl I missing you so much. I can’t wait to hold you in my arms again.’

  ‘Oh you’re such a romantic,’ I tease but I feel the ache in my arms too.

  ‘You missing me?’

  ‘Of course I’m missing you.’

  ‘How are things with your hu… with Richard?’

  ‘He’s OK.’

  ‘You tell him about me yet?’

  ‘Not yet. I’m waiting for the right moment. Have you told Mel about me?’

  ‘No but she sense something change in me since you leave.’

  ‘Does she think it’s to do with me?’

  ‘No, she think I’m getting more depressed because of my work situation, she think that’s why I don’t want sex with her.’

  ‘But it’s only been a few days.’

  ‘But while you was here I only wanted you. Josi, I still only want you. What’s happening with you and Richard?’

  ‘What do you mean?’ I know exactly what he’s asking me, we’ve agreed to be honest with each other, but I’m stalling for time.

  ‘Josi, you have to be upfront with me.’

  ‘We’re talking. Things are more relaxed since I got back. It’s easier to be with him because in my head I’m with you.’

  ‘You make love with him?’

  Why does it feel like such a betrayal to tell my lover I’ve made love to my husband? Yet he’d been honest with me about Mel. I know how jealous I was and don’t want to put him through that. But would I have preferred it if he’d lied to me about her and I’d found out later?

  ‘Yes,’ I answer without any other explanation.

  ‘Did you think about me?’

  ‘Yes.’ I hear his smile.

  ‘Just so long as he know you only on loan. That no one can make love to my woman like me. You know what I want to do to you now?’

  ‘What?’

  ‘I want to take you to a deserted wood. Lie down a blanket because I know how you hate bugs. I want to open your buttons and take off your blouse.’

  ‘Oh I’m wearing a blouse am I?’

  ‘I want to reach behind your back and unclip your brassiere so I can expose your juicy mangoes, your ripe succulent, tasty mangoes. I want to wrap my lips round your nipples and suck and nibble and chew. I want to kiss your flat belly, run my tongue round your belly button. I want to push your skirt down over your hips. Pull your panties down. I want to spread your legs wide and feast my eyes on your pussy. Then I want to feast my mouth. I want to lick you slow, flick your clit with the tip of my tongue. I want to eat your pussy till your legs wet and my face covered in your juice. By now my cock so hard, so hungry I just want to push it straight in, but I want you to enjoy it. I hold back and find your hole. I glide in slow, feel your pussy hug me, stroke me, say Hello Grant, good to have you back. I want your pussy and my cock to dance. Lovers rock, old-skool, dancehall, hip hop. Then we move to calypso. I want you to wuk up pon it. I want when I push it hard you go ‘aaahh’. I want you to scream my name, to scratch my back. I want you to explode with me, over and over and
over. Oh God Josi, I want you. I just want you… Babes, are you there?’

  I’m slumped in my chair, wet and exhausted.

  ‘Yes I’m here,’ I rasp.

  ‘Babes, you still want me?’

  I don’t know if he means do I want more of what he’s just done or if I still want to be with him.

  ‘Grant, that was amazing.’

  ‘Did you come?’

  ‘Yes. How did you do that? You’re thousands of miles away and I need a change of underwear.’

  He laughs. ‘If I was there I could help you.’

  ‘If you were here I wouldn’t bother.’

  ‘When we going to get…?’

  ‘Any luck with work yet?’

  ‘I talking to a guy about a project in Grand Cayman. He pretty sure it going to happen, he just can’t say when yet.’

  ‘Would you go?’

  ‘Of course, if it mean I can get out of this situation.’

  ‘What about Darron?’

  ‘I would take him with me. His mother have family in Cayman, and to tell the truth I would like to get him out of Barbados just now.’

  ‘What’s up? I thought things were a lot better between you two now.’

  ‘Is not just us.’

  ‘What do you mean, not just you? Is it something to do with Mel, won’t she look after him?’

  ‘I can’t really talk about that now. I don’t want it eating into our time.’

  ‘Talking of time.’ I glance at the clock on the wall, a small plain white face with black hands moving over it all day long. It’s behind the chair where my clients sit, so it’s never obvious when I’m checking the time. ‘I have to go. I’m going to need to freshen up before my next client arrives.

  ‘When you going call again babes?’

  ‘I’ll try and call you tomorrow same time, no wait, I can’t, I have a lunch appointment. It might be a quickie on my way home or after the gym.’

  ‘You have such a busy life.’

  So would you if you had a job, I want to say but bite my tongue. ‘Yeah, it’s always been like that.’

  If he senses my annoyance he doesn’t show it.

  ‘I’m missing you already babes.’

  ‘Miss you too. Speak soon.’

  ‘Love you,’ he says as I click off. He doesn’t hear me say, ‘I love you too.’

  My next client is a thirty four year old lecturer grappling with the turmoil of being in love with one of his students and wants help with the choice he has to make. Stay with his wife and two young daughters in a loveless marriage or leave to be with someone ten years his junior. He risks being ostracised by his colleagues as his wife is also a part-time lecturer in his department. He’s riddled with guilt and fear. He wants to find a way out of this without hurting anyone. I tell him I’m not sure that’s possible, but that ultimately he must do what’s right for him.

  Four weeks later, I too have to make that choice.

  Josi

  I’m constantly amazed by how quickly most of us adjust to a routine and how easily we convince ourselves that what we’re doing is best ‘under the circumstances’. We need schedules to help us pass the day; locate us in the right time and space, to punctuate the hours, separate morning from afternoon and evening from night. Some people have little or no schedules, no timetables, no calendars, and live either very exciting or very chaotic lives, depending on who’s judging. Some have too much and live boring, predictable or stable lives. Again, depending on who’s making the assessment.

  In my office, behind my desk, where my clients look when they’re not looking directly at me, is a plaque that reads LIFE IS A DARING ADVENTURE – LIVE IT. It’s one of the first things my lecturer client notices and asks me if I really believe it’s possible to live life as a daring adventure. Isn’t that something we just wish for, a pipe dream, something that happens to other people, people without responsibilities?

  I tell him what I tell them all. It’s your choice. We can all use responsibility as an excuse to hold us back from following our dreams. Responsibility is the word we use instead of fear. Most people focus on the worst possible outcome and never take the leap, whereas if they focused on the best possible outcome they wouldn’t hesitate.

  What if he does leave his wife, what if she finds someone else to replace him who will make her happy, not treat her as a burden, as someone he’s with out of duty? What if his children grow up to be happy, healthy, well-balanced adults who’ve been shown how to take risks instead of playing it safe? What if the happiness he’s found with his student goes on the make him the happiest man alive? What if these are the things he is flying to instead of being weighted down by fear and guilt now and later adding resentment and anger? Doesn’t his wife and children deserve better than the lying and cheating he is doing now? Don’t they deserve better than that?

  Yes, he can live the adventure, but he has to make the choice – out of love, not fear.

  I stare at him and he at me. In the space where we see directly into each other’s souls, he and I both know I’m not just talking about him.

  ‘What would you do?’ he asks.

  ‘I can’t ever answer that for you or for anyone else. You know that. It’s part of the agreement remember. No advice.’

  ‘What will you do?’ he asks, in that moment when the client becomes the therapist.

  ‘I don’t know. I’ll have to think about it.’

  I don’t add that I’ve been thinking of nothing else for the past four weeks. Always finding a reason why I can’t tell Richard yet. I could’ve told him the night he came home early and heard me calling Grant ‘Darling’ on the phone, instead of pretending it was an old friend from school and that was the way we’d always addressed each other. Could have told him when he asked why I was using phone cards – instead of saying I had them left over from Barbados, that I’d bought them when my phone wasn’t working and I didn’t want to rely on Celia’s phone. Could have told him my late night email correspondence was not a backlog of client queries. He trusts me. There’s no physical person to see, so I’m home every night, he knows where I am at weekends.

  My love-making with Grant takes place in the office or at night when Richard’s out at his shooting club. Our passionate correspondence is filed in unmarked folders. We’re careful to be discreet on facebook, treat each other as friends. It’s usually Grant using it to track me down when I’ve not responded to any of his other contacts and generally consists of one liners.

  Call me please.

  Haven’t heard from you in hours, getting nervous. Please call.

  Been trying to reach you. Have you gone underground?

  Are you OK?

  His emails are only marginally more eloquent. Hi babes. Thinking about u – girl how I miss u – ever since that day u went away – I can’t live without you – You’re always on my mind.

  His media of communication is voice and touch. He caresses me over the phone. Holds my hand and makes me believe our life together is possible. When he speaks I’m filled with certainty. It’s later the doubt sets in, especially when I don’t hear from him for a few days, when he doesn’t answer his phone. Then I’m bereft. I conjure up worst case scenarios. He’s changed his mind, Mel’s found out about us and given him an ultimatum, whatever Carlisle warned me about has happened, he’s decided to go to the States, he’s come to his senses.

  Last night after Richard had gone to bed (it’s his shooting night Wednesdays, he has to be alert so goes to bed early), I was drinking to dull the ache for Grant. I got drunk but the ache didn’t leave. I phoned. It went to voicemail. I didn’t leave a message. What I wanted to say would fill his voicemail. I wrote him a long email.

  My Darling Grant. I am very drunk and very horny. This email might not make sense. It’s 2.30 a.m. Been thinking about you all day. Grant, I miss you. I want you with an intensity that hurts. You fill all my waking hours. I re-live all our time together in exquis
ite detail. When I go to bed at night you’re the last thing on my mind and when I wake in the morning you are the first thing there. I have dreams that are directly about you and dreams that are indirectly about you. Sometimes I am absolutely terrified by what I feel because I fear it could unhinge my entire life plan. Before I met you I pretty much had my life mapped out. Now… I question everything.

  My life feels like a roller coaster, the peaks are when I talk with you and the dips are when I don’t hear from you for days. I feel like some crazy person building her hopes on fourteen days, but maybe the best fourteen days of her life. I remember every beautiful detail of our meetings. Every touch, every kiss. When I close my eyes and focus I feel your lips on mine, your breath in my ear. I feel you moving inside me. I hear your voice.

  Grant, I miss you more than you will ever know. If this is a game you are playing with me then I am certain to lose because I lay myself bare to you, open in my declaration of love. I don’t know what will happen. Each day my feelings for you get stronger instead of weaker. Oh my God, I am so very scared. I’ve never been so much out of my depth. I’m very confused; very much in love.

  I hit the send button, drain my glass and head up to lie beside Richard’s warm, gently snoring body. My body’s on fire. I want Grant’s love but Richard will do. He’s not gourmet but right now I’ll settle for fish and chips. There’s not even that on the menu tonight. He rolls over, mutters, ‘I’m tired, Josi,’ and continues snoring.

  I open my emails while trying to dilute last night’s wine with strong black coffee. I’m grateful for a couple of early cancellations. My first session isn’t till eleven. I should have most of it flushed out by then. I’m just pouring myself another cup when I hear the new mail blip. It’s Grant.

  My love. You have a way with words that really turns me on. You are incredible. I received a call about 2 mins ago from my colleague in Grand Cayman. He wants me to travel by tomorrow or Friday. You have perfect timing babes. Our dreams are coming true. I’ve told Mel about us. I’m taking Darron with me. You have to join me now babes. This is the start of our life together.