Won't Last Long

by Heidi Joy Tretheway

  Melina arched, reaching, bringing him deeper, contracting around him. This was new, it was raw, it was so unlike the tenderness Joshua usually brought to bed.

  Joshua’s face was partially illuminated, his eyes on fire, his jaw set as he pulled her other leg around his waist and she gripped him, floating above the floor, riding each thrust. Her back rubbed against the cool plaster wall as Joshua drove into her.

  “We’re a team, never forget that,” he said roughly, fisting his hand in her hair to drag her head aside, exposing her neck to his teeth. His other hand gripped her rear, guiding their rhythm as they climbed.

  The combination of sensations—scalp, neck, butt, core—swirled together and Melina’s body took over, pulsing, igniting her with currents of pleasure shot from her center. She moaned as he tightened his grip, building their cadence. And as she tipped over the edge, she cried out, bringing Joshua with her.

  Finally, Melina unwound her legs from Joshua’s hips and stood on shaky feet, breathless and sated. Joshua reached a hand to caress her face—a tender counterpoint to the rough intensity of minutes before.

  “This room is ours now,” he said. “Imagine how we’ll fill this room someday.”

  Melina leaned into his hand, feeling his fingers massage her neck. “I think we’re doing a pretty good job so far.”

  ***

  After their fight, Melina threw herself into fixing up their house. No job was too dirty, no cleaning task too menial for her to tackle. She scrubbed, polished, washed or scoured every surface in both bathrooms, and touched up the paint on the feet of the iron clawfoot bathtubs.

  Together, she and Joshua worked late into most evenings, stopping only briefly to eat takeout or simple meals as they worked.

  Painting became a comfortable rhythm as they tackled each room—he’d drape and tape everything, then paint the ceiling. Melina filled cracks and holes and learned to caulk gaps between the walls and the moldings, smoothing the caulk with her finger and a damp sponge.

  Then Melina rolled on new wall paint—pale, fresh, watery greens and blues—and Joshua meticulously cut in the paint to the moldings with an angled brush.

  “We could quit our day jobs and go into business doing this,” Joshua said, bringing Melina a cold bottle of wheat beer as they wrapped up painting the dining room late one night. The chandelier that once hung from the high ceiling laid waiting in a box in the corner of the room—re-wired, polished and ready to hang.

  “No way—this is far harder than anything I do at work.” She shoved hair off her sweaty forehead with the back of her hand, and Joshua saw that she’d managed to get paint on her eyebrow.

  He laughed. “But more rewarding, I hope?”

  She took a long swallow from the beer bottle. “Tons more rewarding. What are you laughing at?”

  “Nothing. Just happy.”

  “I don’t think I’ve ever worked so hard or enjoyed it so much,” Melina said, evidence of every color of paint she’d used smeared across her old jeans and T-shirt. The work was so absorbing that she often wouldn’t notice stray splatters of paint in her hair or on her arms until Holly pointed them out at work the next day.

  “I am totally impressed by how much you’ve done,” Joshua said appreciatively. “You have hard-core caulking skills.”

  “You may call me Caulk Ninja,” she said, striking a mock-martial arts pose. “Haiii!” She feinted a hand-chop.

  “So, I’m thinking, this is the last room we have to do downstairs,” Joshua said. “Except the kitchen renovation, which is way more work and expense than we can tackle just yet.”

  Melina nodded, knowing how frustrated Joshua was to leave his beautiful apartment kitchen. But she suspected he was even happier here, in a house that was finally his permanent home.

  “So let’s throw a party.”

  “Right now?” Melina asked, eyes widening. The house was not yet the tastefully decorated, magazine-ready picture she planned.

  “You kept saying you wanted a house for entertaining, so let’s invite all of our friends and have a big dinner party,” Joshua said, gesturing to the expansive dining room. “We haven’t even had a reception for our wedding or seen half of our friends since then.”

  Despite the flaws and the many unfinished details, Melina knew Joshua was right—it was far more important to see their friends than to have the house just so.

  If friends are worthwhile, Melina realized, they’ll care more about me than the way the house looks.

  FORTY-ONE

  Aussie ran in circles of happiness, barking with joy as each car parked on the gravel driveway. The old Craftsman house’s windows blazed with light, inviting guests in as twilight gathered on the surprisingly mild March evening.

  Paper bags anchored with sand and tea lights traced the path along the boxwood hedge from the gravel driveway to the house.

  Melina answered the door in a pale blue shift and champagne-colored ballet flats, welcoming in Andrea and Derek. Her hair was wavy, still damp from the shower she’d barely found time to take after finishing last-minute preparations.

  Holly and Lauren came next, and Taylor arrived soon after with her date Adam and a mystery box that Holly and Lauren hid in a corner of the kitchen.

  Joshua welcomed Juan and Tina, visiting from Vancouver for the weekend; Eric came with his new boyfriend Emil; and Greg, Rick and Ben arrived bearing extra ice. The house was soon full of laughter and Melina mixed drinks from a small wooden bar she’d found in the attic.

  Mark and Stephanie were last to arrive.

  “Stephanie, can I make you a drink?” Melina asked to defuse the obvious tension as Stephanie inspected the house. Mark made a beeline to the backyard with the rest of the guests, where Joshua grilled steaks.

  “What do you have?” Stephanie asked, an awkward pitch to her voice.

  “All your basic food groups,” Melina forced the small joke, gesturing to the bar. “Vodka, rum, gin, tequila…”

  “What do you suggest?”

  “If you like sweet and sour stuff like lemonade, try a Vodka Collins,” Melina offered. “Or I can make a martini as dirty as you want it. Joshua likes his muddy.”

  “I’ll try the Collins,” Stephanie said, watching Melina mix the drink and slice a fresh orange on the bar top.

  Melina followed Stephanie’s eyes to her own hands and realized her ragged nails still had flecks of stubborn paint rimming her cuticles.

  “Oh, uh, sorry—I guess it didn’t all come off in the shower,” Melina said, apologetically. “A manicure is not even worth it with all the work we’ve been doing on the house; it just gets wrecked.”

  Stephanie looked surprised. “You’re doing some of the work?” she asked.

  “Every night,” Melina enthused, missing Stephanie’s skepticism. “We’re tag-teaming each room. Joshua takes the ceiling and moldings; I do the walls and caulking. I’m getting better at it—the first few times I nearly cried in frustration until I started getting tips online to get it right.”

  “So you’re learning as you go?” Stephanie looked impressed. “This actually looks … really professional.”

  She surveyed the room. The combination of dark wood furniture and pale, blue-green walls gave the room an island quality, as if a tropical breeze had blown in from the ocean.

  Melina shook Stephanie’s Vodka Collins, poured it over ice, topped it up with soda and added the orange and cherry garnish. She handed it to Stephanie and picked up her own Collins.

  “Cheers.”

  “Cheers,” Stephanie said. She took a sip and paused, clearly conflicted about what to say next.

  “Look, Melina, I—I wasn’t sure this was the best idea. You and Joshua.”

  “You hate me.” Melina braced herself.

  “No, I—it just didn’t seem like you two had much in common.”

  Melina nodded. “You figured we wouldn’t last long. And now, here we are, married.”

  “Yeah,” Stephanie said, uncomfortably. “And I hav
e to apologize. I didn’t give you a chance because I didn’t think you deserved one.”

  “You didn’t think I deserved him,” Melina corrected her.

  “You’re right. I didn’t. But I didn’t want him to end up with someone who wouldn’t appreciate him,” Stephanie admitted.

  Melina was silent for a moment, letting the apology sink in. “I love him. I really and truly do, I hope you know that,” she said quietly.

  “I do—now,” Stephanie said. “I’m sorry we didn’t come to your wedding. I just thought he was rushing into things, and I was hoping we could make him reconsider.”

  “You mean, ‘Don’t marry that raging bitch?’” Melina’s eyes narrowed, testing Stephanie.

  “Yeah, that’s pretty much the gist of what I said, and I’m not proud of it,” Stephanie confessed. Her eyes were in her drink and she twisted uncomfortably. “I don’t hate you. And I don’t want you to hate me. Now I guess I see that you really do appreciate him, and you’re willing to put in the work to make a life with him. I’m sorry that I didn’t see that right away.”

  “You know, your opinion counts a lot with him—every house we looked at, he’d be talking about you, and what you’d think of it,” Melina said. “I don’t hate you, but you can be pretty scary, and I was afraid you would convince Joshua to dump me because you didn’t like me.”

  “I promise, I’m done with that,” Stephanie said. “Joshua made his choice, and from what I can see, he made a good one. You’re not who I expected you would be. But you can be pretty scary, too.”

  “A raging bitch?” Melina offered a small smile.

  “More like an alpha bitch. You want control.”

  “Like you.”

  “Yeah. I didn’t think there was room in Joshua’s life for two of us.”

  Melina thought through the past year, the way what was important in her life had shifted, little by little. At first it was her career, her image and her control. Now everything she cared about was outside of her control—Joshua, Momo, her friends—and all she could do was give her love and time to them.

  “You didn’t see what was right about Joshua and me at first because it wasn’t there,” Melina conceded. “I did want control. Being with him has been a big attitude adjustment, and so all I can hope is that you’ll forget the person you met and start fresh with who I am now, flaws and all.”

  “I can do that. And if I’m being honest here, it’s the flaws that make you a lot less scary.”

  Melina snorted a small laugh, embarrassed but then relieved when it drew a smile from Stephanie. I’ve spent my life cultivating a flawless image and now someone likes my flaws?

  Stephanie sipped her drink, hesitating on one more thing left unsaid. “It’s just that, Joshua and I have history.”

  “In college. I know.”

  “He told you?”

  Seeing the panic on Stephanie’s face, Melina reassured her. “It was before you met Mark, right? Don’t worry, I’m not going to say anything to him.”

  “It was a fling.”

  “It sounded more important than that.”

  Stephanie squeezed her eyes shut. “It was. I mean, he was. Important to me. He still is, just not in that way anymore.”

  “He was the one who got away,” Melina guessed, and Stephanie’s expression confirmed it hit the mark.

  “I didn’t last long. I was just like you—controlling, pushy, and he left me to go back to Crystal, who’s about the furthest thing from you or me that you can imagine.”

  “Oh, I’ve seen Crystal in action.” Melina grimaced, remembering the scene in Joshua’s apartment.

  “So you know, and that’s why I figured you two wouldn’t last. But Crystal wasn’t right for him, either. I could see it, and he couldn’t, because he’s always so flipping terrified of change. She was comfortable. So I guess I used that, his need for stability, and we managed to stay friends. And then I started dating Mark.”

  “But you didn’t expect that they’d become best friends.”

  “Yeah. And so I made him swear never to tell Mark that we’d been together.”

  “Well, that worked well,” Mark growled from the hallway, his face still in shadow. “What the hell is this? You make nice and suddenly you’re telling secrets you couldn’t even tell your husband?”

  Stephanie’s face went white and she slowly turned to face him. “How long have you been standing there?” she choked.

  “Long enough.” His eyes swam with pain and anger.

  Melina eyed the exit, wondering if she should run, or get Joshua. But it felt wrong to abandon Stephanie, considering what their conversation just cost her.

  “Mark, this is none of my business. I get that,” she started, and his fierce gaze shifted to Melina. “But don’t we all have secrets? And pasts? Joshua doesn’t know everything about me, not the worst parts, not yet. There’s never a good time to tell those secrets.”

  Mark’s scowl remained and Stephanie’s curious, frightened eyes stayed on Melina.

  “I’m not the one to tell you what’s right, what you can forgive, or forget. But I think marriage is about peeling away the layers. Your intimacy grows, but it also reveals the scars and warts and ugly things.”

  Melina walked a few steps toward Mark, imploring. “I’ll bet Stephanie wasn’t your first girlfriend. I’ll bet you didn’t lead a perfect life before you met her.” Melina paused, taking in his reaction as her words hit home. “All I can hope is that Joshua will keep on loving me, even as he peels back the layers. And that’s what you promised your wife. That’s what I promised Joshua. For better or for worse.”

  ***

  Mark and Stephanie retreated to an upstairs room to talk it out, but finally emerged holding hands. The party went late, and the guests gathered around the large, tiled fireplace in the living room to sip wine and eat dessert—miniature red velvet cupcakes brought by Holly, Lauren, Andrea and Taylor with J&M stenciled on white frosting.

  “It’s about time we got to properly toast the bride and groom.” Taylor clinked glasses with Joshua and Melina.

  “And see your new home,” Holly offered her glass in toast.

  “Even better than the last one,” Stephanie added.

  “I’m just glad you’re OK,” Andrea said to Melina, squeezing her hand. “You had us really scared after your accident, and I am so glad you’ve totally recovered.”

  Melina fingered the faded scar on her forehead and thought of the surgical scars on her belly. She was back to normal, but it was a new kind of normal.

  “We are really lucky to be here, to get this house and to get through everything that’s happened.” Melina raised her glass.

  Andrea was serious. “Just don’t forget it.”

  FORTY-TWO

  Growing pains took their toll on both Melina and Joshua. One night, Melina stayed out later than expected at catty hour with the girls, and by the time she got home, Joshua was terrified that she’d been in another accident.

  Melina was defensive—she’d left her mobile phone at her office and she didn’t expect Joshua to be home because it was his basketball night.

  Another time, Melina cleaned out their bedroom closet to make room for Joshua’s clothes. It meant she had to get rid of a lot of her clothes, and she sorted through many of Joshua’s, too.

  When Joshua saw what she’d done—everything perfectly organized, half-and-half, his-and-hers, at first he was touched that she’d gone to all that trouble. But then he looked closer.

  “Where is my sweatshirt?” he demanded.

  “I hung your sweatshirts right there.” She pointed to the left of Joshua’s half of the closet, where a half-dozen pullovers hung neatly.

  “My gray hooded sweatshirt,” Joshua insisted, as if Melina was deliberately misunderstanding. “My favorite sweatshirt, from college? The one I always wear?”

  “Oh, I had to go through our stuff so we could both fit, so I boxed up the worn-out stuff to donate.” Melina thought it was the right an
swer.

  “You just gave away my stuff? Without asking me?”

  Melina backpedaled; this was not the reaction she’d intended at all. She thought that after their first fight over the closet, he’d appreciate her effort to divide the space evenly and organize it perfectly.

  As Joshua’s frustration built and a heavy rainstorm pounded the roof, Melina felt smaller and smaller.

  “I didn’t mean to, I mean, I just thought—”

  “You thought, but you didn’t ask!” Joshua insisted. “That is my very favorite sweatshirt. It’s been with me through everything. It’s not fair for you to toss it out, just because it isn’t fancy enough for you.”

  Melina ran downstairs to her new silver coupe, where the donation boxes were still packed in the trunk, ready for a trip to Goodwill the next morning. She got soaked going out to the car, and she did her best to cover the top of the box holding Joshua’s frayed, holey clothes.

  Back in the house, she climbed the stairs, leaving a trail of drips from the back door to the bedroom.

  She placed the box on the dresser and turned to Joshua. “It’s all there. All of your things. I’m sorry for packing them up.”

  Something was wrong.

  But it wasn’t the clothes. Joshua sat in the middle of the bed, holding his hand out, palm face up.

  A fat drop plopped into his hand. And another. Melina’s eyes followed the drips to the ceiling, the point where the roof peaked, and where a thin stream of water was dripping down, right onto the middle of their bed.

  “Not another thing!” Joshua said. Since the lights went out during a fight, other little things had gone wrong—the hot water shut down, a door stuck closed and a faucet handle came off. “I’m starting to feel like we bought The Money Pit.”

  “I’ll get the bucket,” Melina said, and raced back down the stairs, slipping on the water she’d tracked in. Her hand grabbed the banister and miraculously it held.

  Regaining her balance, Melina rushed into the kitchen, grabbed a bucket, a salad bowl, old towels and a rimmed baking sheet. She climbed back to the bedroom with care, where Joshua was doing his best to catch drips on bath towels.