Raw

by Simone Sowood

  “Too bad she has you for a mother, now you’re responsible for causing us both a lot of pain.” I turn back to her, my eyes fierce.

  “I’ll never forgive myself for missing your mother’s cervical cancer.”

  “Good, I’ll never forgive you either,” I say, my voice harsh.

  “She wasn’t just another patient, you know.”

  “I know. She was my mom.”

  “And she was a mother with two young kids in each of my own children’s classes. When you and Eloise were small, we used to help out on the PTA together. We were friends.” Miranda swallows and continues. “Losing her broke my heart.”

  “Then you should’ve caught the cancer.”

  “She came in complaining about back pain. When someone comes in with back pain your brain doesn’t exactly jump to a cervical cancer diagnosis.”

  I close my eyes and remember my mom’s smile.

  “She had other symptoms,” I say flatly.

  “But she didn’t tell me about them right away. She was too embarrassed to talk about the symptoms that might’ve saved her life. Trust me, when I did start to suspect something else, I had a hard enough time convincing her to get a Pap smear.” Her eyes and voice plead with me, but all I feel is rage.

  “Stop blaming her,” I say, my teeth gritted.

  “I’m not,” she says, shaking her head. “I’ve spun this around over and over in my head, and I realized that some situations are simply tragic and we have to accept that.”

  “I don’t have to accept a damned thing.” My hand whacks against the cupboards, sending a shot of pain through my swollen hand.

  “You do if you want to find happiness. Because if Eloise really does make you feel the way you make her feel, you owe it to your mother to embrace that. She and your father were so much in love, and she’d want you to have the same thing. I know she would.” She wipes a stray tear from her eye.

  I don’t say anything as I digest her words. I hadn’t considered what my mom would want, but I’m sure she’d want me to have what she had before everything fell apart.

  “Leave.” I spit the word at her.

  “Can I show you something first?” she asks, yanking down the collar of her shirt.

  A small tattoo of a rose sits on top of her heart. I’m shocked. She definitely doesn’t seem like the type of woman to have a tattoo on her breast. Getting it must’ve been an extreme action for her.

  “I will never forget her, and here’s your proof. You don’t have to like me or care about me, or even hate me, but please don’t let the pain of this mistake I made so long ago carry on to my child.”

  “It’s not my fault, it’s yours,” I say, my voice softening.

  “I’ve done everything I can to ease the pain over losing Rose the way we did. I even donated half my income that year to the trust fund I set up, and convinced most of the other parents at school to make donations.”

  “What are you talking about? What trust fund?”

  “The one for you and your sister that you each got when you turned twenty-five.”

  “You set that up? I thought that was insurance.”

  “Insurance? No, didn’t they tell you?”

  “My father hasn’t been in my life for a hell of a long time. My aunt didn’t know what it was. She said it must be insurance.”

  “And the lawyers? Forget it, it doesn’t matter. What matters is you and Eloise. You both deserve each other, you both want each other. And both of your mothers want you to have each other, and to be happy together.”

  She reaches out her hand to me, clasps my hand for a brief moment. I refuse to meet her eyes, and she turns and hurries out of the room.

  My mind is racing. The trust fund was how I was able to buy Incredible Ink. Miranda seems genuine. And the rose tattoo proves what she’s saying.

  But does it matter how sorry she is? If Eloise and I were together, I’d have to see Miranda and I can’t see how I could ever do that.

  How could I tie myself to the doctor who missed my mother’s cancer diagnosis? For the rest of my life I’d have to have her in my life.

  But I love Eloise.

  I don’t know what to think.

  34.Eloise

  I’m sitting on the perfect couch in my parents’ living room. My Kindle is on the couch beside me. Reading about people falling in love doesn’t help when you’ve had your heart ripped out. It’s Saturday, and it’s been exactly a week since Gabe left. My heart aches like he left this morning.

  I still send him a text message every morning, telling him how much I miss him but he’s never replied.

  Sophie went to my apartment yesterday and brought my car here to my parents’ house for me. But I still haven’t worked up the energy or desire to go outside, or go back to my apartment. And I definitely haven’t found the willpower to go to work.

  Both of my parents have been super supportive, and haven’t pressured me to go to work at all.

  My mom told me the whole story about Gabe’s mom and even showed me the rose tattoo I never knew she had. I wish one of them had told me about it before the dinner, but I’m past being angry at either of them now.

  It doesn’t even seem like my mother was totally responsible for Gabe’s mom’s death. I mean, she couldn’t do much if she didn’t know all the symptoms. I don’t know why they both insist on blaming her. She must stop blaming herself.

  My hands fidget with the folds of my skirt. Even though Sophie tried her best to get me to do something to take my mind off things, I haven’t been outside in a week.

  But now, at almost 165 hours since I last saw Gabe, I feel the overwhelming need for fresh air.

  “I’m going for a drive,” I call out.

  Both my father and Sophie are home but I don’t know if either of them hears me.

  I grab my car keys from the floral plate beside the front door and leave the house. It’s late afternoon but the warmth from the sun beams on my face, and I pause to enjoy the feeling before I get in my Ford Focus.

  Pulling the car from the driveway, I realize I have nowhere to go. I could go to my apartment, but it’s empty and hollow without anyone there.

  Instead, I open the window and drive aimlessly around the city. Before I know it, I’m near Incredible Ink. A glance at the dashboard clock shows me they’re still open for another ten or fifteen minutes.

  I drive past, craning my head at it. My heart pounds in my chest. There’s a car in the parking lot but I don’t recognize it. Why would I, they have lots of customers.

  Somehow I’ve turned the car around, and am driving past it in the other direction. My body trembles just knowing how close I am to Gabe.

  I can’t help myself. This time I knowingly turn the car around and pull straight into the parking lot.

  I’m shaking more than I was the first time I came here but I have to see him.

  I have to.

  After turning off the car, I sit for a second and look at the Incredible Ink sign. I don’t know what comes over me, either the memory of the first time I came here or wishful thinking on my part, but I slip off my panties and drop them on the floor in the passenger seat footwell.

  My breathing is rapid and I try to calm it.

  Gabe probably won’t even want to see me, but if I can just get him to talk to me, we can work something out. Even if that something is only meaningless sex.

  His partner, Ryan, appears at the doorway, and looks like he’s locking the door. Adrenaline courses through me, and I jump out of the car.

  Running to the door, I yank on the handle, but it’s locked. With both my fists, I bang on the door.

  Through the glass, I can see both Gabe and Ryan standing near the entrance to the back room. They look in my direction, and look away again, saying something to each other.

  Ryan walks toward the door and says, “We’re closed.”

  I don’t see him, my eyes are fixed on Gabe. He’s turned sideways to me, his head angled down at the floor.

&nb
sp; “Look at me,” I yell.

  Ryan’s at the door now, and says, “He wants you leave.”

  “I’m not leaving,” I yell as loud as I can.

  Gabe’s shoulders hunch more, but his feet stay firm.

  “Let me in,” I scream, losing all control of my voice.

  “I’m outta here,” Ryan says, and walks to the back room. I hope he’s leaving through the back exit.

  Gabe jams his hands into his hair. My heart is racing but I won’t stop now. Just seeing him has ignited me.

  I pound on the door again. Gabe drops his hands to his sides and slowly walks to the door. As he nears, his face becomes clear. His normal bright eyes are dull, and his jaw is tight.

  He rests his fingers on the door handle.

  “What are you doing here?” he asks through the window without looking at me.

  “I want a tattoo,” I blurt without thinking.

  He sighs, and says, “We’re closed.”

  “So what? I know you do after-hours clients.”

  Our eyes meet, and a shock of sorrow hits me. I raise my hand, and press it against the glass. He’s so close, but I can’t touch him. My eyes plead with him to open the door.

  “You don’t want a tattoo, Eloise.”

  “I do. I want one of those flowers, like you drew on me. How else am I supposed to deal with this? At least that way I’ll always have part of you with me.”

  Gabe shakes his head.

  “I’ll go to Hell in a Needle if I have to,” I say desperately.

  “No, you won’t.”

  “Try me.”

  He sighs, unlocks the door, and opens it.

  “Don’t do that,” he says, standing in the doorway.

  I duck under his arm, and march straight to the chair and his station. I sit in the chair and force myself to breathe. Gabe locks the door and drags his feet over the floor as he walks to me.

  As he reaches me, I pull up my skirt.

  “I want it right here,” I say, tracing my finger along my thigh.

  Gabe sighs, and sits on his stool. His hands rest on his thighs, and I realize how red and swollen they are. His eyes follow mine.

  “Do you want me to look at them? I can make them feel better.”

  “No, they’re fine,” he says, and moves them behind his back. “I only give tattoos to people I definitely know want them. They’re permanent. You have to be sure.”

  “I am sure, I’m sure about everything about you.” My voice waivers.

  “Eloise, don’t.”

  My heart sinks. If he’d only talk about this we could figure out something. I know we could. My mother would support trying different solutions, she told me she would.

  “We can work something out,” I say. “I would let you cover my body from head to toe if it meant having you in my life. We can have meaningless sex until the end of time if that’s what you need.”

  “I said don’t.”

  Gabe suddenly stands, and places a hand on either side of my head on the headrest. Butterflies fill my body, and a bundle of nerves sits heavily in my gut. He’s so near, and his scent wraps around me like a hug, even if his arms don’t. I want to wrap my arms and legs around him.

  Instead I say, “Let’s talk about it.”

  “I don’t want to talk about it now.”

  He leans into me, and crushes his mouth against mine.

  35.Gabe

  When Eloise turned up, I fought to do what my brain was telling me to do. I tried to keep this simple for her, and not complicate her life with a man who will never be a big part of her family.

  But the longer I looked at her, the less I was able to resist her.

  I hadn’t planned on things happening this way. But now that her lips are on mine, I can taste how right she is.

  Since the talk with her mother yesterday, I’ve been doing a lot of thinking. My mother would want me to be happy, and Eloise is the only person who’s ever made me feel anything even close to happy.

  Maybe her mother’s right, maybe there was no way for her to suspect cancer. She seemed genuine. That still doesn’t mean I want to hang out with her.

  I pull Eloise out of the chair, and hold her tight against me. The tension and anger I’ve been carrying around all week vanish with her in my arms. Even the grief gets buried under the happiness.

  Our tongues twirl as our kiss deepens. My dick aches to be in her, and strains against my shorts.

  Seeing her on the other side of the glass confirmed everything I felt about her. Part of me thought she looked too good for a man like me, but the second she walked in the door I realized she’s all mine. We belong together.

  We always have.

  But I don’t want to think about any of that right now. I only want to think of Eloise, naked and screaming my name as I make her come.

  “Mark me, please. I am yours, I will forever be yours,” Eloise says, her breath tickling my neck.

  “I’m not inking you until I know for sure that it’s what you want.”

  “It is what I want.”

  “Don’t worry, I know exactly what I’m going to do to you. But that has to wait, I need one last taste.”

  “What do you mean last?” she says, pulling away, her eyes wide with worry.

  I pick her up by the waist and she squeals. I set her on the padded table I use when people have to lay down to get their tattoos. Her hands tug at the bottom of my T-shirt, and I pull it over my head.

  “God, I missed this body,” she says, running her hands over my muscles.

  “Not as much as this body’s missed you,” I say, and push her hand against my rock-hard cock.

  She moans, and slips her hand under the waistband of my shorts. Wrapping her fingers around my shaft, she starts stroking me. I throw back my head, and let the tingles rush over me.

  I push my shorts and boxers down, and kick them off my feet. Eloise half moans and half laughs as she pushes her body off the table and sinks to her knees.

  Just like on our first night in the park, she surprises me by her action, but I’m not complaining. She lightly cups my balls and licks up my shaft. When she reaches the tip, she closes her mouth over the head and runs her tongue around the ridge.

  Eloise sucks my cock deep into her mouth, and I swear I’m halfway down her throat.

  I grab onto the table to steady myself. She’s too good. She makes me feel too good.

  “Enough, or I’ll blow,” I say, pulling her up by her armpits.

  All four of our hands wrestle her top off, and I undo her bra. Her nipples are pearled, and I flick them with my tongue. I run my hands over her curves, and lift her back onto the table.

  My dick is screaming at me to fuck her, to claim her as mine forever. But I want to take my time. I want to taste her while I still can.

  My lips lock on hers again, and she whimpers under the intensity.

  Eloise’s perched on the edge of the table, her knees apart. I push my body as close to her as I can. My hands run up her soft thighs, and push her skirt up as far as I can.

  The pinky finger of my right hand brushes against her lips, and is immediately coated from her slick mound.

  I break the kiss, and say, “You’re not wearing any panties.”

  “I guess I forgot to put them on this morning.”

  “You bad girl,” I say and grind my cock against her.

  “I’m your bad girl.”

  “I know,” I say chuckling, and pick her up.

  She wraps her legs around my waist and holds onto my shoulders. Her skirt falls between us and I back into the barber-style chair, bringing Eloise with me. She straddles me, and I grab the hem of the skirt, and pull it out from in between us.

  Her mound is drenched and all the blood in my body rushes to my dick. With my hands, I circle her body on me, coating myself in her wetness.

  Lifting her a little, I place my tip at her entrance.

  Our eyes meet, and I hold her gaze as she lowers herself onto me. Her slick walls, h
ugging me tight, are the best fucking thing I’ve ever felt.

  I cup the back of her head, and pull her close to me.

  In a low voice, I say, “Let’s go upstairs.”

  “Maybe I like it here. I want to be your bad girl right now.” Her voice is breathy, and makes my dick throb.

  “Then ride me, the way you did at the lake house. I want to watch you on me. I want to see how you’re mine.”

  “I am yours, but you have to be mine too.”

  Eloise raises her arms, laces her fingers together behind her head and grinds herself on my cock. My eyes rake over her as she moves, her tits bouncing and her hands tousling her loose hair.

  My dick has never been so fucking happy. Neither has my soul.

  Eloise will be in my life forever, whatever it takes. Even if it means seeing her mother every day. I can’t be without her.

  I sink deeper into the chair, shudders and tingles coat my skin. My cock throbs in her tight pussy. My sack draws tight against me, my balls are about to explode.

  Fuck.

  Not without tasting her pussy. One last taste to last me six months.

  Wrapping my arms around her, I stand. My dick is still inside her, and she writhes on my cock. She’s making it very hard to do what I have to do.

  I pull her off me, and lay her on the table.

  “I was about to come. Why did you make me stop?” she moans.

  “So was I. But I need to lick you.”

  “I want you in me.”

  Ignoring her, I push her back on the table and dive my head between her legs. Without bothering to kiss her thighs, I push my tongue through her folds and dip it into her entrance.

  Her juices coat my tongue with the sweetest taste in the world. I close my eyes and focus on remembering it.

  “Gabe,” Eloise moans.

  She grinds herself against my face, covering me in her slickness as she comes. I don’t stop, I keep lapping at her folds.

  Meshing her hands in my hair, she lifts her ass and moans. I ram my finger into her, and her walls clamp around it. She lets out a high-pitched scream as she comes again. My tongue doesn’t stop.

  I could do this all day long.

  After she calms, she says, “Oh my God, what are you doing to me?”