Shine

by R. L. Jameson

  I knew they couldn’t want me. Not the real me. Tim didn’t. So why would any other man?

  I wonder if Paul does, though. He didn’t know of my past with Tim. He’s looking at me with concern, like I’ve turned into one of those wild women who emerge from the mountainside and talk to themselves and vanish as quickly as they are sighted.

  All the anger is sieved from me while I look at Paul.

  “What does it mean to love another?” I ask him, my voice sounding child-like and scared.

  “Are you asking me as a fellow academic? Or as a fellow human being? Or as Jane, the woman I love.”

  God, I love Paul’s mind. I love how clever he is.

  My chin does this terrible thing where it quivers as tears spring into my eyes. “I don’t know what I’m asking.”

  Paul takes a tentative step closer, and I let him.

  Then Chris and Gabe walk into my room. I stiffen and take a step back, running into my bed.

  “I’m sorry,” Chris says, looking at me then the disk in my hands. “I’m so sorry, Jane. I—I should have told you that I kind of knew you. I mean, I saw you at the funeral. I should have told you. But I didn’t know how. I didn’t want to bring up your husband because…”

  “Because you never talk about him,” Gabe finishes for Chris.

  “Why?” I ask, my voice too loud. “Why do I have to talk about him? Why do I have to talk so fucking much? He cheated on me. I knew. I loved him anyway. I mean, I didn’t love the cheating. But I was the sorry sap who loved my beautiful husband even though he didn’t love me anymore, went out and found other women who were prettier, who could keep his attention.”

  “You think he didn’t love you?” Paul quietly asks.

  “Why else do men go fucking around? Of course, he didn’t love me. I have no idea if he ever loved me.” I said it. I just told them one of my worst fears, one of my biggest secrets. It’s odd, but in the last few days I thought I’d forgiven Tim. I thought I’d moved past. But this one secret haunts me.

  Then I drily laugh. “I just realized I’ve become a weird antithesis of my husband.”

  “What do you mean?” Paul’s voice is still quiet but has a slight tone of rigidness to it.

  “I’m fucking around like Tim was, only instead of keeping secrets and being secretive, I’ve managed to somehow be open about it.”

  “You’re just fucking around with me?” Paul’s dark brows furrow.

  I laugh even more, feeling crazy and stupid. “No, that’s the ridiculous thing. I fell in love with each and every one of you. I fell madly in love. I love Paul for being just Paul. I love Gabe for Gabe. Chris for Chris. But you—” I point with the disk I’m holding at Gabe, “—you never fell in love with me, did you? You want a princess you can save.”

  “Don’t put words in my mouth, Jane.” Gabe’s mouth is firm, deep lines carve around his lips.

  “I’m not. You told me yourself you feel like I’m some damsel in distress.”

  “Didn’t you hear everything else I said?” Gabe folds his arms across his chest.

  “You want to see a real damsel in distress?”

  And I’m doing it. I’m walking to the TV in my bedroom, the one we’ve watched on the rare weekend mornings when we’re all together. I’ve even watched ESPN from this TV, while I rolled my eyes at Paul and he smiled at me sympathetically.

  It takes a few seconds to put the disk in the player. Less than half a second to press play. I shouldn’t do this. I’m not prepared for the consequences. I’m exposing myself to them. I’m stripping down—no clothes, no skin, no bones, no tissue to hold me up. I’m just a fourteen-year-old girl who knows how to run.

  The music blares, the reporter’s nasal tone is voiced over images from America’s heartland. She says something about seeing America no matter what walk of life. Then the report begins with scenes of the FBI and the local police’s automobiles, lights on, and parked outside the commune I knew as my home. The reporter talks about my father being the second in charge, under my uncle. How she thinks my father was power hungry and wanted to lead the commune himself. How there were rumors of abuse, but little the authorities could do until one fateful night.

  There’s crime scenes floating through the screen, blurred out images of my mother and the blood pooled around her, under her. Next, there’s an image of my uncle shot—again, blurred out are the details, like the blood, and his hands were flung out as if trying to shield himself from the bullet. There’s more images of people I vaguely knew from the commune, a half-sister, a cousin of mine. Fourteen dead before a deputy shot and killed my father.

  Then the reporter focuses on me, my story, how I ran for three days. There’s a little girl on the TV, in shadow, my voice is distorted as I talk about how I had finished my chores for the day when I heard the shots. Somehow, I had a loaf of bread with me when I found my uncle, and then I ran. I tell the camera how I remember resting from time to time, eating that bread, but how I just ran. The reporter talks of how I was found then hospitalized, and how Anne fostered me. The harrowing tale, the reporter finishes, of a girl in America. Pray for her. And then the show ends. The DVD stops. The screen darkens.

  What have I done?

  “Was that you?” Paul softly asks.

  I can’t look at the men in my room, but I nod. “Real fucking damsel in distress, isn’t she?”

  No one talks. For eons no one says a word.

  Well, this is what I wanted. I wanted to show them…what was my point? How much a victim I am? How I hate my past? How I can’t even talk about my past without referring to myself in the third-person? I’ve pushed that little girl to the very far reaches of my mind, trying so hard to ignore her, who she was. I didn’t want to be a victim, so I took on any other identity.

  But she’s always there, that scared girl. She’s my biggest secret. My therapist told me I never had to talk about it if I didn’t want to. And I never have before. I didn’t with Tim. I haven’t with Bethany. But with Gabe and Chris, especially with Gabe, I worry they fell in love with a caricature of me. And I wanted to augment the caricature, shove it in their face how much of a damsel in distress I truly was. Am.

  But I’m not.

  As much as I’m that scared little girl, I’m also a woman who can save myself. I just…I’m half out of my mind because I wanted so much to prove that I could save myself. That I’m a real person, not just the wife who was cheated on, not just the girl who ran, not just a victim.

  “I—I do this thing, Jane,” Paul’s voice is soft, almost timid. “My mom…god, I can’t explain all the ways I’m fucked up because…I just couldn’t love. I kept trying, but I always worried whoever I might love would abandon me, rob me, then leave me, like my own mother did.”

  I finally look up at him. He runs a hand through his wild hair.

  “I think I might have fallen in love three other times before you.” Paul nods at the floor. “But each time…I know it’s a defense. I know it’s not right, but I abandoned three other women before you, Jane. That’s why I’ve never married before. I don’t leave a letter, nothing. I just move away. I came here because I’d gotten engaged to a woman. She was nice. Sue. You would have liked her, liked Sue. She got married last year, I heard. And I’m glad. I’m glad.”

  He walks to the bed and sits on the corner, continuing to look down at the white carpet. “I just left her. I couldn’t take it. I got the job here and left without a word.”

  “Are you going to do that to me?” I ask, bracing myself for his answer. “Are you warning me?”

  He doesn’t look at me, but at Chris and Gabe. “I thought this time would work, because of those two assholes. They keep me…from freaking out. I mean, I know it’s—we’re—all of us together are weird as fuck, as we keep saying. But with them here, with me, I feel I can just love you and see where the future goes. Maybe we’ll get married. And the thing is, I’m okay with thinking about the future now. Because I know Chris or Gabe will keep me grounded. I kn
ow I don’t have to leave you before you leave me. I…maybe it doesn’t make sense. But for once in my adult life, I felt like I could love someone, you. And I do love you.”

  “But you’re going to leave me because Chris and Gabe will.” I take a step away from the men.

  “Who says I’m leaving?” Gabe yells.

  “No,” is all Chris says, looking like he’s going to come closer to me, but I hold my hand out.

  “You saw her?” I point to the dark TV screen. “That’s me. Only, it’s not me. I was a victim, but I’m not any longer. Don’t you get it? I’m a person. I’m not just a victim. I’m a person.”

  “Of course you are,” Chris says and almost steps forward, but the glare on my face has him repelling and standing slightly behind Gabe.

  Gabe takes a big breath. “My fiancé and I met when we were kids. Sixteen. She had a hard childhood, I knew. But we found each other, and we were inseparable after. I thought that counted.” Gabe shakes his head and sits on the floor, looking like someone stabbed him through the gut. “She’d have these times when she’d be really sad.” He wryly laughs. “I told her to stop being sad. I’m such a fuckup. I actually said shit like that. I didn’t know.”

  He sways and leans forward as if he might fall even farther onto the floor. “We were engaged and planning the wedding and I knew she was sad again. I was new to being a cop and we were getting training on signs of depression, and other mental…” He rolls his hand in the air, not finishing. “Why do they call it mental disease or other labels like that? I mean, the people who suffer from…they have enough to deal with, you know? They don’t need any fucking labels put on them too.”

  He looks at me and sighs. “I fell in love with your spirit, Jane. Jesus, what man wouldn’t? I saw what kind of a fighter you were. How dignified you were with your husband. And I just wanted to fucking touch that, be near you to see a woman fight so fiercely. And, man, did you ever fight for your husband. You didn’t give up on him. My Jenny gave up. I didn’t see the signs. I was getting training to see the signs, but I didn’t see them. I found her, blue and cold in our bathroom. She’d overdosed and slit her wrists. I did CPR for two hours, they told me.”

  Chris nods.

  I want to hold Gabe, the man looks so bulled over. I kneel on the floor, but he keeps talking.

  “I know you’re not Jenny. That’s one of the reasons why I fell, I think. And I fell so fucking hard. I know you won’t give up.” He pointed to the TV. “That’s a girl who fought, fought so hard—”

  “I ran. I didn’t fight. And I didn’t—”

  “Jane, come on. You gotta quit being so hard on yourself.” Gabe shakes his head again. “You know that night I pulled you over and we finally met? I swear to god I heard Jenny tell me to finally just do it. You were driving all over the road, but usually I would have let it go. I would have followed you home, made sure you were okay, and that would have been the end of it. But I heard Jenny tell me to talk to you. I know I sound crazy, but…I think she pointed you out to me because she knew you wouldn’t be like her. Because I couldn’t go through that again. There’s good men out there who can, and there’s nothing wrong with the people like Jenny. Nothing wrong with them. And I’ll always love her. But I couldn’t go through that again. I’m sorry. God, I’m sorry, but I’m just not strong enough. And as much as I know you won’t be like her, I still worry I’m going to lose you because I never saw the signs.”

  There’s tears in his eyes and I’m crying. I think Paul and Chris are too.

  Gabe points with his head at the TV once more. “I don’t see a victim, Jane. I never have. And I never will. I see a strong, powerful woman. I see a fighter. A fierce fighter. That’s who I saw open the door for your husband. That’s who I saw on the show with that idiotic reporter talking about you. That’s who I see right now. And I want to be near your fierceness, your fierce grace. I didn’t fall in love with an idea. I fell in love with your heart. Then, after getting to know you, I fell in love with you.”

  27

  I see myself from Gabe’s eyes. I no longer feel the caging shame when I think of the three days of running away from death and my past. I see a little girl who knew how to save herself. And it might sound odd, but I wouldn’t trade my time with Tim for anything. Tim’s actions did hurt me terribly. However, I was already burned with horrible thoughts about myself. I augmented those thoughts when Tim was cheating. I did that. Not Tim. Granted, if I had it to do over again, I’d ask him for a divorce, but I’d want to be one of those couples who still loves each other after their marriage ended. Because the fact is, I loved Tim so much that I loved him even when he was doing his worst. I loved him through it.

  It’s hard to see myself with much dignity when Tim was cheating on me. But I do see how much I loved Tim, and how I powered-through the tough times because of it. My love is strong. It is fierce.

  And I hope the men surrounding me know I have enough for all of them.

  I roll on my knees, tucking them under me as I lift to my hands, crawling toward Gabe. He looks defeated.

  “I’m sorry,” I whisper as I near.

  He shrugs, watching me with his blue, blue eyes. “I—I never talk about Jenny because I still love her. I’m mad as fuck at her for…what she did. But I’m also mad I didn’t do more.”

  I’m closer now, a foot away from him, and I nod. “Is it okay if I love her too?”

  At that his face twists. The tears in his eyes pool, threaten to brink over the edge.

  “I can’t help but love a woman who loved you.” I caress his face, coming even closer.

  He slowly nods. A tear falls from one of his blue eyes, and I lick it, then kiss where the moisture had been. I forgot I’d put on lipstick until I see the dark pink on him.

  “I’m sorry,” I whisper and try to wipe away the cherry color. “I’m wearing lipstick…you—”

  He catches me by my nape and pulls me in for a rough kiss. His tongue is in my mouth and my body instantly ignites for him. My pussy cries out for a touch. My breasts are heavy with the need to be caressed. All along my spine I feel gold bubbles tickling me, making me feel so, so happy. And turned on.

  He pulls away, smiling with my lipstick all over his mouth. “God, I love you.”

  “I love you.” I’m shaking and giddy and only want more of this feeling. “I want my lipstick around your cock.”

  He closes his eyes, growling. “Jesus, woman, you drive me nearly insane.”

  I almost pull away, not sure what he means, but he’s holding me still.

  “You’re going to make me come in my pants if you keep talking like that.”

  “Oh, but I want you to come in my mouth.” I take my time and slowly cup his sex. He’s magnificently hard.

  “Fu—”

  I cut him off. “Take off your shirt and pants.”

  Then I feel huge hands at my hips, caressing, playing. Chris is behind me making me burn for him.

  Adroit fingers run over one of my nipples. Paul is deftly adding fuel to the fire by rolling over my sensitive bud.

  Gabe reaches behind his neck, pulling his t-shirt up and over his head. And while Chris and Paul wander around my body, I’m doing the same with Gabe. He tries to kiss me, but I won’t let him. I really do want to see my lipstick around his perfect member. I want to see my mark on him.

  Paul nibbles my neck, nipping my earlobe, whispering, “I’m going to take off your shirt.”

  It’s said as a statement, but I know he’s asking for permission. Gentleman that he is, he always does.

  I nod as he finds my sweater’s buttons. Oh, the buttons he finds…

  At one point, I have to lean back, away from Gabe, as Paul caresses one of my breasts. Gabe takes the other in his hand, squeezing, sending me even higher. Chris is behind me, the back of my head rubbing against his chest. My ass is against his hard erection. I have to move from time to time, to get my sweater and bra off, but I’m back on my hands and knees soon enough. Chris is b
ehind me, grinding against my jean-clad butt, Paul kissing my arm and neck and fondling my breasts, and Gabe finally unzips his jeans.

  I can’t wait. The second I see him spring from his pants, I open my mouth, taking him in. One of Chris’s hands moves from my hip to between my legs, rubbing my throbbing clit.

  God, everything feels so good. I never knew until I met Chris and Gabe and Paul how much I love giving head. I love feeling a penis in my mouth. I love giving so much pleasure and seeing a man come unhinged because of what I’m doing.

  And I love Gabe in my mouth, glancing up at him as his stomach clenches, as he makes fists with his hands, his jaw clenches, and he’s trying so hard not to come, even though I’m doing everything in my power to make him.

  “Take off her clothes,” Gabe says. Again, it might sound like a command, but I know I can say no. However, I never want to.

  Paul and Chris peel off my jeans, and I have to stop sucking Gabe to take my pants all the way off. My panties are gone too. I reach out for Gabe’s cock, but he blocks my hand and smiles.

  “You want everyone naked, Jane?” Gabe asks.

  God, he knows me and what I want. That ratchets up my desire. “Yes. Yes, please.”

  Paul growls. Turning my head to his, he kisses me. Next, he takes one of my hands and has me feel his staff while he pulls off his shirt. Gabe’s caressing my breasts while I stroke Paul. Then I reach behind me, to pull Chris even closer. My fireman kisses my neck, clutching at my bare thighs. He reaches between my kneeling legs and I groan and flex against his hand.

  “So wet,” Chris whispers in my ear.

  Chris is also trying to remove his pants, which isn’t easy with me against him, but we manage to slip and slide and somehow I land on prone Chris, his chest to my back and we’re still on the floor. I look down my body. His cock is between my legs, the head of him peeking over. God, I ache to have him inside me. To think at one time his size intimidated me. Now, all I want is to feel him move inside my pussy. I want it so bad I wiggle against him.