“Then there’s you and me. I was afraid for so long that if I did make a move on you, you’d be disgusted and never want to see me again. I was afraid that if we did get together, it wouldn’t be as hot as I’d always imagined it to be. I was afraid we’d lose our friendship over it; that I’d never see you again. I’m afraid if I contact my sister, she will turn me away and deny me. I’m afraid she’ll tell me things about Mum and Dad I don’t want to hear. I’m afraid of going to sleep and never waking up. I’m afraid of my house getting burgled. I’m afraid if I get a houseplant, I’ll kill it, let alone a dog or a cat. I’m afraid of all kinds of things, but what I am most afraid of is dying and leaving you behind before I ever see your potential fulfilled. I’m afraid of leaving you alone, with nobody to champion you like only I can. I’m afraid of hurting you and causing you pain. I’m afraid of getting you pregnant and something bad happening. I’m mostly afraid of the things I’m capable of, because I’ve been no saint. I’m afraid because I want to be good for you. I’m afraid because I never want to let you down. I’m the one who’s afraid of never measuring up. I’m scared too, Liza. It scares me, too.”
I stroke my hand along his jaw and lean in to kiss him. He seems shocked at first and unsure, but when I pull away smiling, relief washes over his face and he pulls me on top of him, encouraging my kisses.
My body becomes uncomfortably hot. His mouth tastes like urgent need and sweet desire. I nip at his lip and lick into his mouth to provoke him, his hands wandering down my back, his breathing heavy.
I’m madly… wildly… desperately… in love with him.
He flips us over and covers my body with his. I undo the belt on my robe and pull it from underneath me, throwing it to the floor. He lifts his t-shirt over his head and my hands can’t get enough of his skin and the warmth of his body.
He rips open the buttons on my pyjama top and exposes my breasts to the cool air, making me squeal. He covers my breasts in kisses and while he’s enjoying himself, I free him from his boxer shorts and stroke him up and down, relishing the scent of him.
Reaching across, I pull open the bedside drawer, grab a foil and stick it in his hand.
He becomes naked very quickly and pulls on the rubber. I throw my clothes off and hold out my arms to him. He comes into my embrace and holds me close to him, his lips brushing over mine.
“You look so beautiful. I’m not going to last.”
“Just fuck me, you ruffian.”
There’s a greedy look in his eye as he aligns himself and begins a slow plunge deep into my body. I arch off the bed and groan as he fills me so replete, I can’t even open my eyes.
He bites my shoulder and bares his teeth against my throat, groaning as my body wraps tightly around his, clutching him firmly. Licking into my mouth, he stares down at me, looking so pleased with himself.
“I’m sorry the foliage hasn’t been trimmed.”
“I’m not. It’s you au naturel. It’s sexy.” He kisses the breath from my lungs and begins rocking into my body, making me smile against his shoulder, occasionally rendering me shocked as he pulls out, then rams back into me the whole way once again.
“You need to be fucked, Liza? My love.”
“I do.”
“I wanted to fuck you the moment we met. I thought about you jumping my lap, owning me. I wanted to taste the slickness between your legs and fuck you hard and fast, pushing you up against the wall of the seminar room.”
“Oh, Jesus. Sam…”
He pins me down and presses his forehead to mine, sharing breath and gasps and dirty words with me as he wrecks the girders of my bed.
I scream when I come, clinging to him, as he’s clinging to me. I bury my face in his throat as he lies on top of me, recovering, our two bodies a sweaty, tired mess.
He rolls off me, disposes of the condom and quickly drags the covers over our bodies. We lie facing one another, my hands pressed against his chest, our legs a big tangle.
“In my fantasy, I left him for you and we lived happily ever after.” It sounds tragic when I say it out loud. “The problem is, would I have ever done that?”
“Yes,” he says, “you would.”
“How do you know that?”
He holds my chin between his finger and thumb before kissing me. Then he smiles and pulls me close, holding me as we begin to drift back to sleep.
“I was never going to give up,” he says, kissing my hair, “not after finally tasting you. You wouldn’t have given up on me either.”
“I agree on that.”
“You do?”
“Yes.”
“Liza, shut your eyes and sleep, my darling. I’ve got you. I love you. You make me so happy.”
“You make me happy, too.”
“Let’s imagine we’re in Paris, asleep in that fancy hotel room you once shared with Hetty. Remember? You emailed and told me all about it. Well, you’re back there, except you’re with me this time. We’ve got the curtains open because it’s a summer night. You’re feeling so unwound and free. You’ve been entirely naked the whole trip. Well, for the portion of it we’ve spent in the room!” I giggle into his armpit. “We hear all the car alarms go off on the street below when a truck gets stuck on the narrow strait… and we laugh… and then you forget you’re still naked as you wander to the window to see what all the fuss is about. People see you in all your glory and strangers wolf whistle, so you quickly climb back into bed with me, feeling embarrassed and also exhilarated. We get a fit of the giggles and your face is a picture of shame and shock. You roll back into my arms, tight and secure, and we’re just one again… it’s so easy… we’re just one… so tight, knitted together, and we don’t even think of it again. We’re just us, able to get over anything, because we’re perfect together.”
I pull his face into my chest and we lock together again, because it’s as he said, we’re just perfect – together.
Chapter Nineteen
WAKING A FEW HOURS LATER, I discover I’m in bed alone. I shoot up after noticing the time. 10.30am. Shit! The kids. I quickly pull on my pyjamas and dash down the corridor, only to find their beds empty. Plus, Sam… where’s Sam?
I arrive downstairs a gasping mess, only to discover Sam and the kids enjoying themselves around the kitchen table.
“Mummy? Is Sam our new daddy?” Emily asks, her usual prim self.
Rupert is stabbing his spoon repeatedly into a bowl of overdone porridge.
For a few long moments, it takes me a while to digest the scene. I can’t figure out why I’m uncomfortable with it.
“He’s Mummy’s friend,” I tell Emily, kissing her on the head, then Rupert.
I catch Sam’s eyes and there’s something different this morning. It’s not a good different either. He has stayed over before, but he has never tried to inveigle his way into my family like this, ever. He usually leaves early…
I never asked him to take care of my kids and it’s strange for Emily not to have come and woken me. She always comes into my bed for a few minutes before we get up, together.
“There’s some coffee in the pot,” he tells me sweetly, trying to grab me around the waist as I pass him.
I wriggle my way out of his hold and try to calm myself down as I pour the coffee.
“Do you want a top up?” I ask, trying to be polite.
“I’ve had two cups, I’m done.”
He’s had two cups? So, he’s been up for a while and made himself at home? I should be grateful. It’s me who’s slept in, isn’t it? He’s obviously been keeping the kids entertained. It looks like Emily finished her breakfast hours ago and now she’s playing with her playdoh. Rupert’s porridge looks like Sam’s fifth or sixth attempt to get him to eat something, going by the used bowls on the sideboard.
I grab one of Rupert’s bottles and fill it with milk, which he wolfs down in thirty seconds flat. Then he recommences playing with the porridge, which is becoming more concrete by the second.
I put some bread i
n the toaster and observe as Emily uses the playdoh to make stuff resembling food. Sam just sits with his arms folded, watching and listening as she teaches him how it’s done.
Sam’s still in his boxers, wearing just a t-shirt on top. That also leaves me uncomfortable. It’s not that it’s too familiar – but it is all too soon.
“I said I’d meet Hetty for lunch today,” I lie, finding it so easy to. “I should get the kids ready to go out.”
“Oh?”
“Yeah, I’m sorry.”
“I thought I’d bring some of my stuff round…” He lets me digest that, waiting for me to respond. I have no idea what to say.
Early this morning, it was all different. My grief is always the worst then, and my kids weren’t around, and our conversation made me feel as though we were heading in the right direction…
But now this!
I don’t know why, but it’s too much. Too soon.
“I thought I’d move in,” he eventually adds, but he’s not looking at me. He’s concentrating on helping Emily, who’s still too young to grasp what is really going on here.
He’s trying to get me to agree while the kids are around… in case a disagreement ensues.
“We’ll have to talk about this later,” I tell him. “I’ve got a lot on my plate.”
He stands up and walks towards me. He’s still got that sickly-sweet look in his eye.
“But what about last night? I thought we’d figured everything out?”
“Maybe between us, but you moving in with my family is different. It’s too soon.”
He clucks his tongue. “I’m sorry. I thought you were finally letting go of your grief.”
Do we ever really let go? Or do we just learn how to cope? Maybe not even that. Perhaps with time, the pain just gets dulled. I don’t know…
All I know is, it’s too soon.
“It’s not as simple as how you’re portraying it to be. Last night I was emotional and you were here for me and it was wonderful, but my kids are a whole different thing. This is their home.”
“I thought you were serious about us?” he says with a sniff, his body in front of me, but his eyes looking elsewhere. “I guess I was wrong.”
He leaves the room quietly, without any drama or fireworks, but I can tell his words are meant to prompt action from me. I have to stand my ground. Yes, I love him, yes, he’s gorgeous, but he’s not their father. How can he just think he can come in here and play happy families with me, so soon after…?
Then again, do I really want to be alone? Do I?
I almost leave the room to beg him to stay… for him to give me time to think about it all. However, I’ve ignored my instincts in the past much to my own detriment, so perhaps I ought to start listening to them.
In all the time I’ve known Sam, he’s always been a carefree, take-it-or-leave-it sort of person. He’s never been desperate like he is now. Does he really want to take on a woman with two kids? I don’t get it. Maybe I’m being cynical or whatever, but there’s a flip-flopping in my heart, telling me there’s something strange going on here.
The toast pops and I butter some for myself, then share the rest between the kids.
Sam returns to the room with his hair combed and his clothes on.
“I’m off then. I’ll leave you to your day. I know when I’m not wanted.”
I can’t believe he’s acting like this. I thought he was intelligent enough to know when it’s just not the right time – or circumstances. Maybe I was wrong about him.
He’s gone from the house before I can protest. My immediate feeling is that I’ll miss him, but I do wonder whether I could do without complications right now. My fingers hover over the screen of my phone, contemplating calling him to come back, but somehow, I know that’s exactly what he wants me to do.
It’s funny how when you’re growing up, adults say, “Everything will look different in the morning.” As a kid, you struggle to believe it, and yet it was always different in the morning, no matter how everything felt the night before – it always did feel more bearable the next day.
I have to say though, that old adage has never felt truer than it does right now. Last night might have been lovely, but today’s another day.
A woman’s love for her children – it surpasses everything else.
Chapter Twenty
IT WENT ON FOR YEARS: she was in a relationship, all while I fucked anything that moved. The cycle just repeated. At university, there was a period of time when we were inseparable study partners and I actually thought she might even turn around and leave him, she was so flirty with me. However, it was just as I was getting my hopes up that she fell pregnant and shot all my hopes to shit. After that, I tried to put her out of my mind, but I couldn’t. Within weeks of us first meeting, maybe not even that… I’d decided I loved her. Trouble was, she was out of reach – always had been, always would be. I wasn’t to know that things would get even worse after she fell pregnant a second time. It was like she dropped off the face of the earth, never texting anymore.
It was around about this time that I landed my first professional appointment. I thought about Liza a lot but there was no hope, was there? She was married with two kids. I didn’t stand a chance. The most I could hope for was friendship.
I bought my first flat and a nice car. Everything was changing for me. No longer did I have to rely on my parents for anything. It felt brilliant. I felt worthy, finally.
However, I had no idea I was about to hit rock bottom.
I’d taken the train into town with a mate from work. We had a few pints before getting separated. I don’t know what happened, but I think he went into the toilets with some girl and didn’t come out.
I was standing at the bar when I was approached by two blondes. Their intent was clear and they no doubt saw what sort of man I was. They were both tall and slim, confident and forward in their approach.
“Our place or yours,” they said.
I remember grinning, even as a voice in the back of my head screamed, “Liza, Liza…”
We went back to their flat on the Marina, conveniently placed around the corner from the Fruit Market, where we’d been drinking that evening.
I can’t even remember their names and to this day, even if I saw them again, I probably wouldn’t recognise them.
All I remember is doing lines off their bodies and getting so jacked up that I was so hard, it hurt. The girls pleasured each other as I watched. I found out they were a bisexual couple often on the hunt for a man to join them.
I fucked one of them as I licked the other.
Then we switched.
It continued throughout the night.
Totally meaningless and driven by nothing but the need to vacate.
I left their flat in the morning, still high and wired.
I walked to the station and vomited in the toilet on the train home.
I remember feeling utterly hopeless that morning, as I arrived home to an empty flat and an emptier life. I sat in the shower and cried like a baby. I even contemplated giving up my new job, selling everything and going travelling. It seemed like there was nothing left for me around here, not anymore.
Then as I stared at my phone with bleary eyes, willing a text to appear from Liza – even just a ‘how’s you?’ would have sufficed – something else caught my eye. My personal email was blinking with one unread message.
There, in black and white, was a full email – from Liza!
I almost wept, but I was too excited. So, I read it…
*
Dear Sam,
I’m in Paris! Oh my gosh, I’m Paris! I would ask you how you are but I’m in Paris and I want to brag and pontificate and sing from the rooftops. You would have loved it today! Oh, you would. I know I haven’t scribed in so long, but I came away today thinking of you and how much you would have enjoyed the day – so now here I am writing this email to you.
Hetty’s asleep in her bed. She’s experiencing pregnancy
fatigue, bless her. I’m sat here in bed in my new silk pyjamas and the windows are wide open, letting the night air in. There’s something magical about an autumn night in Paris, something calm and cool and quiet about it. A perfect ‘soft October night’, remember? (Prufrock). Anyway, I wish you were here to smell it because it’s difficult to describe. I think it’s all the dirt and gunk of vehicular pollution mixed with the scents of bakeries and fallen leaves and brasseries that drives me wild. The voile drapes are blowing gently against the windows and I don’t think I’ll shut the curtains tonight. It would be a damn shame to.
Joe paid for us to come on this babymoon, of sorts. He’s too busy with the football season and everything, but with Hetty needing a break, he asked if I would oblige and so here we are. In beautiful, gorgeous Paris. My mother is looking after Rupert and Emily while Gage is off doing god knows what. I’m so glad we’ve come away because Hetty’s been able to get everything off her chest about how scared she is to have a baby and I’ve been able to assure her it’s going to be fine. She’s needed to vacate – badly – and I’m glad Joe could see that. She’s not due until February but she’s already huge so it was probably the right time to come away now.
Our hotel room is beautiful. We have two double beds. Hetty has been swimming in the whirlpool bath for most of the day. We’ve come to bloody Paris and she’s more in love with the tub than anything else! It was rather funny though, and we had a laugh and a joke about it, then I left her to go off exploring on my own while she remained in the room.
I’m not going to lie, there were a few hairy moments today. I walked into a couple of dodgy boroughs and thought I was going to get whisked off in a car and sold into slavery or something. That’s the thing about Paris. You can be walking down a billion-dollar street one minute, and stumble into the ghetto the next (I’m perhaps exaggerating a little, but I think it was probably my dress that was getting all the wrong attention – obviously I should’ve dressed down for certain arrondissements).
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