by Sarah Daltry
“And?”
She moves away from me and grabs her shirt, throwing it over herself, and then she steps into her panties. “I hate doing this. God, I really hate doing this, but I want to go with you today. I want to be a part of that, too. I want you to trust me with everything you are. Not just this.” She must see the mood shift in me, because she finishes her thought. “Not that this is not a wonderful way to spend my Christmas.”
“I don’t want you to feel bad,” I tell her. The moment is gone and the mood has changed. I sit up and find my clothes, dressing, because I can’t just spend all day with her in bed, pretending everything else doesn’t exist. “And once we go…”
“Jack, I don’t love you because you’re fucking amazing in bed. I love you because when I finish classes at the end of the day and leave the building, I can count on you to be standing by that same oak tree, looking lost and confused that there’s someone counting on you. I love you because when you think I’m sleeping, you whisper your fears to me, and I love that you have fears. I love you because you bought me a dildo for Christmas, which is both so wrong and yet so ridiculously you. And I love you because when you look at me, I love me. Not in an arrogant and selfish way, but in a way that makes me feel like I deserve to be looked at like that.”
“You deserve everything, Lily. But I have so little to give you.”
“I told you,” she says, as she brushes my cheek with the back of her hand, “I only want you. That’s more than everything else combined.”
It’s quiet for a minute and I don’t know what to say to her. I feel like I need to preface going to see my mom with some explanation, some story. I need Lily to know everything.
“There are so many things I still haven’t told you,” I remind her.
She takes my hand. “So tell me. And then we’ll go see your mom.”
I take a deep breath and then I tell her everything. I tell her about the snowmen. I tell her about the fighting and what my mom was like outside of that one instance at the craft fair. I tell her what I heard from that teacher. I even tell her what it was like, what happened daily and how I felt. Lily doesn’t move; she just keeps holding my hand. When it starts to hurt too much to keep talking, she holds me, and then the words finish spilling out. I describe watching my father kill my mom, how scared I was, but how I didn’t understand. How I still don’t understand.
“And there’s this unspoken obligation,” I explain. “That I owe him forgiveness. That sooner or later, I have to let go and move on. As if he owes me nothing in return. As if he didn’t owe me a fucking mother.”
Talking about it brings too much back and I don’t want Lily to see me this way. On the night when I called Alana because the darkness was enveloping me, I realized how much I love Lily, but I also realized that there are parts of me I don’t want her to see. I don’t want her to know that I’m this person.
“I don’t know what to say,” she says, her voice shy and sad.
“Can we just forget it? Maybe I’m not ready.” I pull my hand away from her and turn around, bringing my knees up to the bed and trying to quell the shaking in my body.
I feel her behind me, reaching her arms around me, under my arms, and across my chest. She doesn’t talk, just lays her head against my back and holds me.
“I want to be real with you,” I tell her. “But I’m afraid you’ll hate me.”
She speaks into my back. “I’ll never hate you. Please trust me. I might not know what to do or what to say, but I’m not going anywhere, Jack.”
I don’t turn around, but I continue speaking. “I can’t move on. I can’t be someone else. My grandmother has been pushing me to help my dad, to encourage this rehabilitation program the state wants to try with him. And I go, because she wants me to go. But if he died in there? If I never saw him again? It’d be okay. I don’t think I can forgive him. I don’t think it will ever be understandable. My mom wasn’t perfect. She wasn’t a good person; I know that. I’m not stupid and I know so many things now that I didn’t know as a kid. But she was a person, Lily. And she was my mom. I didn’t get to pick her.”
“I know,” she whispers. She doesn’t know and she knows she doesn’t know, but the words are comforting nonetheless. They tell me that she’s listening, that she’s trying to understand.
“I wish he’d left. Just walked out. But he killed her. He choked her to death in our fucking living room while I watched. I just can’t forgive that. I’ll never forgive that.”
“You don’t need to forgive anyone. Except yourself.”
I move so that she’s on my side instead of behind me. Her eyes are wet with tears, but she’s not scared of me. All that’s present in her face is sadness.
“What do you mean?” I ask her.
“You act like his actions define you. I’m not you and I’m not going to speak about your family. I won’t offer my opinions on what kind of people your parents were or are. And I won’t tell you whether you should or shouldn’t forgive him. What I will tell you is that you’re more than them, Jack. You’re not your past.”
“But people-” I start.
She shrugs. “People can fuck themselves.”
I can’t help but laugh.
“I’m serious,” she says. “Any person who judges you because of your father is not only an asshole, but they’re stupid, too. Because anyone would be lucky to know you.”
“I just don’t know how to let it go,” I admit.
“Sometimes the things we hold onto are the things that hold us back.”
“That’s pretty fucking wise.”
She smiles, still sad. “You taught me that. I might not know what you’re feeling, but I know that I want to know. I know that I want you to be a part of my life, to be my future. But you’re always looking behind you. Turn around. Look forward.”
“The future is terrifying,” I whisper.
“It is. But it’s easier together.”
I think about her words. I’ve never seen the future. All I’ve ever seen is darkness and misery and suffering and the countdown of my life. But she’s right. Whenever there was hope, whenever something seemed good, I ran away. I convinced myself that it was going to end and I lost myself. I let the darkness win, because it was easier than hoping for the light. Because what if the light didn’t come? Or worse, what if it did? The absence of it was easier to face than its loss.
“There’s more,” I tell her. This part is going to be the hardest and I’m worried about bringing her into this. Because it’s not the kind of thing you can unknow – and it could change us completely.
“Go ahead,” she says. “I’m right here.”
I try to find the words, try to explain what it felt like, how helpless I was and yet how sure. I describe the mirror and the distortions that stared back at me. I tell her about the way that there was nothing ahead of me but black emptiness. I even tell her about how aware I truly was in the moments leading up to it, how I could feel the chair against my feet as if all of my nerves were pressed against the smooth wood of it. Even as I speak, I can feel the rope in my hands. I can hear the sound of the chair falling over and I remember how it was. There was no white light. There was no sudden regret, no moment when I would have given it all for more time to appreciate the little things. There was just more misery, more sadness, and more darkness that stretched on endlessly. Until the darkness was all.
“And then I woke up in a hospital bed, with a bunch of assholes standing around me, trying to label what was in my head. They had their go-to list of chemicals that would make me normal, their scientific names of disorders to explain why, when I pictured life, I saw nothing. I was there for months. When I left, I wasn’t any different. They just titled me chronic and told me to keep telling someone my problems and popping my pills.”
Lily’s silent when I’m done speaking. She won’t even look at me. It was too much; I knew it was too much.
So this is how it ends… Christmas Day. I still haven’t even given
her the real gift. I should have known this would happen. A fucking holiday? Like I would ever have the right to a holiday. And of all holidays, Christmas. Isn’t it the “most wonderful time of the year” or some bullshit?
She has her back to me. I don’t know when she turned away. At some point while I was talking, I guess. I keep my fists at my sides. I want to punch the wall. I want to hurt. I want to get so drunk that today never happened. But most of all, I want her to say something. I want to kiss her one last time. I want to tell her that I still love her, no matter what she thinks of me. I want to have a normal fucking life.
“I can’t,” she says and her voice is choked with sorrow.
“I know.” I’ve already resigned myself to it.
She turns to look at me. Her cheeks are spotted white and red and her eyes are swimming in tears. She tries to talk, but it’s just sounds of pain as the words refuse to come.
“No. I can’t,” she repeats, but she doesn’t continue or move. She just stares at me. I don’t know what to say or do.
“It’s okay. I figured.”
She leans into me and hits me hard in the chest, her little soft hands making the weakest fists and it’s an out of body experience. She’s punching me and crying and saying the word no, but all I can think about is how she’s gorgeous even when she cries. How her punches don’t hurt, but she’s putting so much into them and it’s kind of perfect. Finally, she stops and pulls my face down to hers, kissing my forehead, cheeks, and lips. She repeats my name over and over.
“I love you so much,” she says. “You can’t fucking leave me like that, Jack.”
“It’s in the past,” I tell her.
She pauses. “Entirely?”
I can’t lie to her. “No. Not entirely. But I want it to be.”
“I was there as you said it. I felt what you were feeling. You felt what you felt back then, because it’s not gone. You still feel like that, don’t you?”
“Sometimes,” I admit.
“How often?”
I sigh. “I don’t know. It comes and goes. I can have good months. Sometimes even a few in a row. I also have bad months. And sometimes those are in a row, too.”
“Have you… have you felt that way recently?” She looks so scared and I wish I could say what she wants to hear. I wish I could deny that the pain is still coursing through me, that the darkness is an endless tangible presence in my life, but I can’t. And it wouldn’t be fair to lie to her. I know now that I need her in my life, but I also need her to know me.
I nod. “Right before things went down with Derek. The night I was late from band practice. I called Alana and-”
She looks into my eyes. “Why not me?”
“I didn’t think you could handle it.”
“That’s not fair.”
“I didn’t want you to see this. I didn’t want to ruin whatever we were starting, to have you think of me as this guy. I just didn’t want to change things.”
“You need to call me. You need to let me in,” she says.
“I’m trying. That’s all of me. I have nothing else to hide.” It’s an incredible vulnerability that I’ve given her.
She hugs me and runs her hand along the back of my head. “I need you. Please, don’t even think about leaving me that way. If you need to walk away, I’ll cry and I’ll miss you. But I can’t survive that. I can’t survive the empty place in the world where you used to be. Promise me, Jack.”
I hold her and I promise her, because she makes me want to promise. She makes me believe there is something worth promising to hold onto. As she cries against me, scared of losing me, I feel what it’s like to be needed, to be wanted. And it’s the most beautiful feeling in the world.
Chapter 28
“You still haven’t opened your real present,” I tell Lily after we’ve both calmed ourselves. I can’t get over the fact that she’s still here, but she is. However, we have to see my mom and there’s one more thing I want to do. It’s already getting so late, but I want to give her the gift before we head out.
“Another dildo?” she smirks.
“Let’s not pretend you don’t love your toys, princess. I can name several instances when you have been more than happy to-”
She blushes and cuts me off. “I didn’t say I didn’t want it. Besides, there are almost three full weeks left of break. And we won’t be able to see each other much. So…” Her voice trails off and I try not to think of her using it, of her unbelievable body and the sounds she makes when she comes. I’m fucking jealous of a pile of plastic.
“Don’t get too attached,” I grumble.
“Oh, Jack. Give me a break. Nothing is going to replace you.”
I feel better although I’m tempted to remind her just how good it is with us, but I know we won’t stop if I start. So instead I reach down and pick up the bag with the tissue paper shoved on the top. It’s such a stupid gift and I almost change my mind. I bought my girlfriend a dildo and this dumb thing for Christmas. Some guys buy bracelets and rings. I’m really a terrible boyfriend.
“I thought this was a good idea, but I’m realizing how lame it is,” I say. I don’t even want to give it to her anymore.
“I’m sure it’s lovely,” she says.
“I’m sorry.” I give it to her, because obviously I have to now that she knows it exists, but I try not to blush when she pulls out the giant wad of tissue paper from the bag. “And I don’t know how that shit works.”
“No one does,” she laughs.
She reaches into the bag and pulls out the present. I put it in a tin that says “princess,” which is probably for like three-year-old girls, but my resources were limited. Lily smiles and opens the tin. She stares at the contents inside and her eyes fill up. She doesn’t look up, but I see the tears start to hit my bed.
“Why are you crying?” I ask.
She turns around and pushes me down on the bed, tearing my clothes off, and kissing me everywhere. Her agony about my revelations about my life, about my family, and about my fears is present in the feral way she touches me. She lifts her shirt over her head and kicks off her panties, before kissing me hard as she moves herself over my cock. I don’t have time to think of anything else, because I’m inside of her and she’s riding me hard before I even fully process what’s happening. When she’s like this, I can’t think of anything but her and what she does to my body.
“Jack, I love you. I love you so much. Do you get that?”
I just nod, trying to ease the burning inside of me. I want to come. I want to explode already, but I don’t want her to stop either. She’s wild, moving fast, and her hands are rough as they claw along my chest and torso. I lift my legs up and she leans back, crying out so loud I almost forget that we’re in my house and that this is supposed to be a holiday. Fortunately, no one’s home.
I push up into her, lifting myself from the bed and hanging onto her hips. I love watching her from this angle, as her hair cascades around her and her tits are on full view. She’s going crazy, touching herself as I rock her, and she tilts her head back, crying my name. Fuck, I love hearing her say my name.
It doesn’t take long for her to come and she’s desperate for it. She reaches back and digs her fingers into my thighs, tightening her cunt and pushing herself down onto me harder. I keep thrusting and I watch her as her whole body succumbs to the tremors. It’s a beautiful, beautiful sight.
As soon as she’s done, I let go and it’s only seconds before my own orgasm rushes through my body. I grab onto Lily and push deeper until I feel it in my balls and then I release into her. “Fuck,” I groan and she falls onto me. I wrap my arms around her and hold her while we both try to catch our breath.
After the sensations slow and we’re both coherent again, Lily sits up on my chest and teases me with her fingertips. I swore we would not spend all day in bed, but look at us.
“Thank you,” she says.
“For what?” I don’t honestly know what at this point.
<
br /> “The present. It’s the sweetest thing anyone has ever done for me.”
“Really? It’s kind of stupid, isn’t it?”
“Are you kidding? Did it just look like I thought it was stupid?”
She gets off of me and dresses, lifting the tin and placing it on my nightstand.
It was silly. On a whim, the idea came to me, but I can’t believe this is all I did for her. I went to the grocery store, to the candy aisle. I bought every single kind of candy I could think of with multiple colors. And then I threw away anything that wasn’t red, placing only the red ones in the tin. It was such a ridiculous gift now that I think about it.
“I should’ve bought you a necklace or something.”
“This is the most thoughtful present I’ve ever received. Let other girls have jewelry. Anyone can buy jewelry. Anyone can’t make something so personal.”
“I love you. You know that?”
“Yeah. I’m pretty sure I really do.”
****
I didn’t tell Lily, but something she said really stuck with me, so when we were dressing, I took something from my desk and shoved it in my pocket. We’re heading to the cemetery now and it’s a big deal, but it no longer seems like a turning point. Lily knows me now. She’s heard the worst and not only is she still here, she seems more attached to me as well. I wonder how long it’ll take before that makes even the slightest bit of sense.
Because of the snow, the cemetery is mostly empty. Sure, it’s Christmas, but it’s cold and it’s getting dark and most people are spending the evening with their living family. Since my only living family is at the prison, I come here. Every year. Because someone needs to. I can’t imagine my mother being left alone on Christmas. But tonight is different. Tonight, I’m ready to say goodbye.
I don’t expect never to return, to put my mother away for good. However, I’m ready to accept that she isn’t here. That this is for me more than it’s for her.
“This is her,” I tell Lily.
The tiny tombstone looks even smaller with the snow on the ground. I reach down and brush some snow away from her name. Evelyn Connelly. That’s it. No years, no details. Certainly no phrases like “loving wife and mother.”
