Breaking Through

by A. M. Hartnett

  Yet Miranda was a force he couldn’t overcome. They’d found their dynamic since she’d tied him down, and since he’d reciprocated, and he understood that there would be times when she wanted him to give himself to her to do what she wanted, and then there would come a time when she once again wanted to writhe in his clutches.

  She wanted that ultimate power over him, he felt in the hot suction of her mouth, she wanted to weaken him, to use his pleasure against him, and so he reached up and grasped the sofa back on either side of his head and pushed his feet against the laminate floor to keep from pushing into her throat.

  There was no keeping secret what she did to him. Eyes squeezed shut, bottom lip stinging where he bit down on it, he couldn’t keep it up. As she puckered her mouth around him and cupped his balls, a sound broke from the depths of his stomach and rattled up his throat.

  ‘Don’t stop,’ he whispered, then sucked in a sharp breath as she gave him everything she had in her. ‘Jesus Christ, I’m gonna come in a second. I’m gonna …’

  His body turned ecstatic as it released the pressure she had built, jetting into her greedy mouth.

  She was gone like a cloud of smoke as he sat in the flickering light of the television, the blanket resting over his groin, and returned a few minutes later with cinnamon-smelling breath, a warm washcloth and a look of satisfaction on her round face.

  ‘You’re just shady’ he whispered as he cleaned himself up.

  Miranda giggled ‘How am I shady?’

  ‘Inviting me over here to snuggle under the covers, and all the while you’ve got devious plans to get my pants off.’

  ‘You wouldn’t have come if there wasn’t a chance I’d get your pants off.’

  He handed the washcloth back, but held her wrist before she could leave. Quietly, wanting to say so much more, he said, ‘I’d still be here, even if I did have to watch more dead cats and tin cans.’

  Even with her face washed by the eerie white light, she looked so pretty, her eyes so soft and warm.

  ‘That’s sweet,’ she replied, and her smile widened as she looked at the cloth in her hand, ‘even if I am holding a rag covered in –’

  ‘Yeah, you’re right. Meet you back here?’

  ‘Meet me upstairs,’ she said, and he craned his neck to watch her disappear into the darkness. Even in yoga pants and a sweatshirt, she could take his breath away.

  He filled his lungs and let the air through pursed lips.

  Tin cans and dead cats, he thought as he tucked himself back into his pants, and chuckled. Blowjobs in front of the television. Hot chocolate and cranberry scones. Pomegranate lube and Supergirl undies.

  There was nothing he didn’t like about Miranda, he mused as he headed up the stairs, and he marvelled at it. For all the excess he’d taken hold of in his life, all the places he’d been and women he’d bedded, here with her was by far the best place in the world.

  * * *

  Feverish and clinging to him as his kiss moved to her cheek, Miranda held her breath. She didn’t trust her judgement at that moment, not as the shelter of his body covered her completely.

  She turned her head to look at the alarm clock at the bedside, but the orange numbers blurred as he took her movement as an invitation and buried his face in her neck. The sting from his teeth and the scruff on his chin preceded the warmth of his hand sliding down her ribcage on a track to the wet heat between her legs.

  ‘Wait,’ she whispered, too softly to be heard.

  He rubbed his finger along her slit, and crooked his fingers into her cunt as he shifted. As the descent began, Miranda squirmed and half-turned to stop him.

  Simon lifted his head, face flushed with arousal but now wrinkled by concern. ‘What’s wrong?’

  ‘Nothing,’ she said, and ran her hands over his shoulders. ‘I just need to ask you –stay with me? For the night, I mean?’

  He abandoned his quest between her legs and propped himself up with his elbows on either side of her head.

  ‘No sneaking out like a well-used toyboy?’

  Miranda groaned and wrapped her arms around his neck. ‘Don’t make fun of me. That was really hard to ask.’

  ‘I know, that’s why I’m making fun of you.’ He wriggled around until he got hold of the blanket, then dragged it over their heads. ‘What’s different tonight?’

  ‘I just want you to stay,’ she said quietly, rolling with him as he turned onto his side.

  It still terrified her to say it, and when you got right down to it she was hoping Juliet would at least put on a semblance of being a functioning human being, but she wanted him there for a lazy start to the day.

  He held her close with his hand spayed across her back. ‘Are you going to make me breakfast?’

  ‘Make your own breakfast,’ she said, giving him a light tap on the cheek. ‘You can share Eddie’s frozen pancakes.’

  ‘I’m not getting much of an incentive to stay the night.’

  ‘Hey, I’m sparing you a long drive in the dark to your sad bachelor apartment. You’d think you’d be more grateful for my generosity.’

  ‘See, shady girl,’ he teased, and slipped his hand over her hip. He brushed his knuckles across her abdomen. ‘Lucky for you, I’m very good at expressing my gratitude.’

  Biting down on her smile, Miranda rolled onto her back and tucked a hand behind her head as he climbed over her.

  Simon’s gratitude dripped from the end of his tongue as he ran it from her moist opening to the hood around her fat clit. She closed her eyes and let it fill her up.

  From somewhere in the back of her mind, something black and horrid slithered. She hardly noticed it at first, until her throat began to burn and her eyes itched.

  Before she could do anything to stop it, Miranda began to cry.

  Simon didn’t notice until she closed her legs and rolled away from him. For a moment it was as though she was alone in the bed, and she could feel his surprise fizzing all around her.

  ‘Sorry,’ she croaked, and turned her face into her pillow.

  He lay down next to her and wrapped his arm around her. ‘Never mind apologising. What’s wrong?’

  ‘Nothing, I’m just –’ Wrecked? Burned out? How could she answer him if she didn’t even know? ‘I just had a bad day, that’s all.’

  ‘That’s not all,’ he whispered. He pulled her hair away from her neck and kissed her along her hairline, then gave her a squeeze. ‘You can tell me.’

  ‘No, I can’t.’

  She squirmed out of his clutches and got up. She had nowhere to go where he wouldn’t follow, and so she just sat on the edge of the bed with her back to him.

  ‘I don’t know what’s wrong with me,’ she confessed, but recognised it as only a half-truth. ‘It’s not you. I swear, it’s not you. Having you here makes me feel better, but no matter how much I want it to, I can’t feel like that when you’re not here. I hate doing that to you.’

  ‘I didn’t know you were doing it,’ he said. ‘So, we’ve covered when I’m here. Tell me about when I’m not here.’

  She shook her head and looked down at her hands. She couldn’t tell him about Juliet. She couldn’t. Then he’d know how bad it was, how she wished things were different and then worried about what would happen if things were different.

  ‘I’m not like other people my age,’ she said, and wiped away her tears. ‘I don’t get to go to university or go clubbing, or quit my shitty job because I feel like it. Most of the time I can pretend none of that matters, but it’s getting harder and harder. Tomorrow you’ll be here when I wake up. We’ll have coffee and watch some annoying morning shows, and then you’ll leave and I’ll have to think about my problems again.’

  He touched her. Just a hand on her hip. Enough of a connection to offer some comfort, but not intrusive enough to make her want to flee.

  ‘I kind of want to tell you that all of those things are overrated, but I’m the last person you should listen to. I pissed away my youth in a slurry
of drugs and alcohol.’

  Miranda sniffled and laughed. ‘That’s not making me feel better.’

  ‘No, I wouldn’t expect it would. What I can tell you is that these aren’t the best years of your life. Anyone who makes it to thirty and thinks that they’ve just had the best years of their life is crazy.’

  ‘So I’ll be flawless in my thirties?’

  ‘Probably not.’ He met her with a smile as she twisted around. ‘Again, you shouldn’t listen to a word I tell you, but here’s my take on it: your life will never live up to your own expectations. No matter what you do, no matter how big you dream, you’ll always be wondering when things are going to go your way, what you could have done differently, and if there’s a magic button somewhere you can press to get a do-over.

  ‘I think life just sucks,’ he went on. ‘I think it’s always going to suck, and that’s why people do things like buy boats and take vacations. They have to do things to make it suck less.’

  ‘That’s so very depressing.’ Yet she felt better hearing it. She didn’t feel as alone in her disappointment.

  ‘I know there’s more to it than what you’re telling me, but I’m not going to torture it out of you.’ Simon drew back the covers and gestured to the spot she had vacated. ‘How about some necking and a bit of fondling instead?’

  Miranda crawled back next to him and snuggled close as he killed the light and made a cocoon around them, then cupped her ass with one hand as he kissed her.

  ‘I didn’t want to cry in front of you,’ she said against his chest. ‘I hate crying in front of people.’

  ‘It didn’t bother me. Well, it scared the hell out of me at first, but it’s nothing. Everyone needs a meltdown now and again. I should be due for one soon, just so you’re warned.’

  His strong embrace was the best thing in her world at that moment. It didn’t make her feel weak to burrow closer to him. Even though she couldn’t tell him why, she needed his consolation.

  She needed him, and as his breathing grew heavy enough to ruffle the hair on the top of her head, she decided that, one day, it might be OK to need him.

  * * *

  At nine o’clock the next morning, Miranda was in stitches as Simon entertained Eddie while feeding him, though she had begun to suspect that Simon was enjoying himself far more than the baby. The simple task of feeding Eddie squares of toasted waffles had become a space opera. Ships collided, drones explored unknown planets, and there was even a sub-plot involving twin brothers separated in childhood who became mortal enemies. It was a pretty impressive narrative, but it was the whirring and beeping noises of his food that kept Eddie rapt.

  ‘You’re kind of a dork,’ she told Simon, passing him a wet dishcloth for his sticky hands and then tackling Eddie’s face with another. ‘Were you like this as a kid?’

  ‘Kind of. When we were kids out in the country, we’d play Predator. I could climb higher so I’d be the predator, and the other kids would be the army guys I was hunting. They’d pretend not to see me unless I took off my hat – that was my invisibility shield.’

  ‘Juliet didn’t play with me because she was so much older,’ Miranda told him, ‘but Des and I used to play Harry Potter in the ball field down the road with another girl from the neighbourhood. One time we were out there shouting that spell that makes your Patronus shoot out of the end of your wand and a deer walked out and scared the living shit out of us. After that we thought we were actually wizards.’

  Simon laughed and got up from the table. The exciting breakfast over, Miranda pulled Eddie out of his high chair and put him in the playpen in the living room, then returned to push Simon away from the sink full of dirty dishes. He poured another cup of coffee, resumed his seat and chatted with her as she washed up.

  Waking up with him once more in a bed that barely accommodated the two of them had been wonderful. The frame had protested underneath his weight when he moved, and she’d laughed when he woke up apologising for almost pushing her out. Still, she’d immediately tangled with him when she woke because there was nowhere else to put her arms and legs.

  She’d wanted him instantly, but the house was so hushed she was sure that any noise they made together would be amplified, and so they had got up, got Eddie up and got the day started.

  There was a tremendous novelty to having Simon there with her in yesterday’s clothes, rumpled and gorgeous and comfortable.

  Her plan was to go with him when he headed downtown to meet with his boss, lugging Eddie with her in the rarely used car seat, and visit the art supply store so she could get a start on Simon’s commissions. She’d take his money for the landscapes, but she’d recreate the two campfire scenes she’d snapped pictures of as a gift in charcoal, and because she would enjoy creating them.

  Though her ambition had been to get out of the house before Juliet emerged from her crypt, she had no such luck. Her sister strode barefoot into the kitchen, still half-asleep, and headed for the coffee maker without so much as acknowledging the other two people in the kitchen.

  Miranda could have gone through the roof. She watched her sister dump three spoons of sugar into her mug, ass hanging out of her short robe and make-up streaked across her cheeks, and wanted to shove Juliet out of the kitchen. Juliet would have known coming down those stairs that there was someone else in the kitchen and she could have damn well thrown on her longer robe before coming down. Like her silence, her appearance was a deliberate and immature display of the mood she was in.

  Leaning forward, Miranda spoke in as low a voice as she could. ‘Can you do me a favour and go put something on?’

  Juliet ignored her. She stirred her coffee, setting Miranda’s teeth on edge with the clinking of the spoon against the ceramic, then turned to look at Simon.

  ‘You don’t have a cigarette, do you?’

  ‘For fuck’s sake,’ Miranda growled under her breath and left the dishes to soak in the fizzing water. As she sat, she shot Simon an apologetic look, but he met Juliet’s stare with a level gaze.

  ‘I don’t smoke, sorry.’

  Juliet rolled her eyes towards the ceiling and her lips moved as she murmured some sort of complaint. She remained that way, and Miranda wanted the kitchen floor to open up and swallow her sister.

  Simon leaned forward and held out his hand. ‘I’m Simon, by the way.’

  His introduction earned nothing more than a bored look and a two-second fumbling of fingers against his.

  ‘We’re going out,’ Miranda said, talking to her sister like she would an old person who was hard of hearing. ‘I’m going to the art store, and then I’m taking Eddie to the museums so he can look at the stuffed animals. I’ll be back by –’

  ‘Wait,’ Juliet turned her attention back to Simon, then gave Miranda a nasty grin. ‘Did he spent the night?’

  Beneath the table, Simon moved his leg so that his bare foot touched hers. It was a hidden message to her but it was enough to keep her temper in check, though not by much. She reached for her empty coffee cup just for something to do with her hands other than pull her hair out at the roots.

  ‘Yeah, he did.’

  ‘Oh, that’s nice.’ With her snide comment, Juliet pushed away from the counter and headed for the living room. ‘I can’t bring anyone home but you get to have your boyfriend spend the night.’

  They’d had this spat before. Having it again would change nothing. Miranda didn’t want Juliet bringing home men she met at the bars. Boyfriends were all right, even fuck buddies, but one-night-stands and losers her sister found on an online dating site were barred from the house as long as Eddie was in it.

  And so Miranda just ignored it. ‘If you’re going to Matt and Giselle’s, make sure you’re back by –’

  Juliet cut Miranda off as she breezed out of the room. ‘I’m not going to Matt and Giselle’s. I’m not going to the bars any more. They kicked me out of the band last night.’

  She went back up the stairs, ignoring Eddie’s loud greeting and leaving a
stunned Miranda and a scowling Simon at the kitchen table. The creaking above their heads told Miranda that her sister had crawled back in bed. She folded her arms in front of her and dropped her head onto the shelf of her forearm.

  Simon’s warm hand clutched her elbow. ‘Miranda, it’s barely nine o’clock and your sister is already fucked up.’

  She shook her head and spoke into the dark hollow she’d made. ‘No, she’s still fucked up.’

  ‘No, she’s newly fucked up. Whatever she has, she took when she first woke up. I ought to know.’

  Miranda lifted her head and glared at him. ‘Thank you for your expert opinion.’

  He wisely removed his hand before she could do it for him, but kept it close. ‘How long has this been going on?’

  ‘Since she was in high school. She went to Vancouver for a few months while Des was pregnant, and when she came back she said she’d been in a programme out there.’

  ‘Was she?’

  Pushing up and leaning back in the chair, she shook her head. ‘I don’t know. She was staying with a cousin and they said she was, but they might have just been covering for her. She certainly seemed happier out there.’

  She’d lied to her mother the last few times she’d visited, and she would have lied to Simon if she had thought she could have gotten away with it. She didn’t talk about it, because if she didn’t talk about Juliet’s drug problem she could pretend it wasn’t there.

  She didn’t want to talk about it now, but she shrugged when Simon repeated his question.

  ‘I thought she did. I think she did, before she got back into the bar scene. She did some background vocals for local artists, did some solo stuff on the piano at a place on the waterfront before it closed, and got herself a regular gig at another restaurant on Sunday afternoons. Then she got in with this band. Then the nights got later and later and the take-home got smaller and smaller because she started to put it up her nose before she even left the club.’ Miranda hugged herself as disappointment and shame pulled her down. ‘I had to ask Mom for the rent money. I had to tell her we’d all been knocked down with the flu and I wasn’t able to work enough shifts that month because of it. I don’t think she bought it, but she gave it to me because I asked.’