by Roan Parrish
The paranormal was big business at St. Jerome’s. Better to think you were cursed than to believe no family wanted you. Nicer to imagine that God had a plan for all the wack shit that happened to you than acknowledge the cruel randomness of the universe. Easier to say you didn’t go into small dark places because there were ghosts there than to think about what happened to you the last time you got shoved into one.
So people challenged him on his rationality regularly, presenting him with seemingly inexplicable synchronicities that he took joy in parsing. His most common explanation was that the brain took in huge amounts of information without our conscious knowledge. We always knew far more than we could explain.
It tripped our instinct not to walk down a certain alley, he’d say, or that a person wasn’t trustworthy. It let us predict and anticipate things if we’d trust those instincts. And it also meant that, when paired with people’s desire to believe in the mystical or magical, those things we noticed could be used to convince people we knew things mysteriously. Psychics and fortune tellers read us, not the cards or the spirit world.
We were all, he told us, walking, talking bundles of signs about ourselves, and sometimes other people could read them, even if we could not.
* * *
—
On Thursday I left work early to go to Sid’s funeral. My first funeral.
Since hanging up with Grin on Sunday, I’d spent every minute I wasn’t at work scouring my brain for evidence of other moments when I’d felt some kind of premonition, but I couldn’t find any.
I’d been so distracted by it that when Rhys called last night, I’d messed up. I spoke in monosyllables, and he got upset.
“If you’re bored of hearing about my shows, just tell me, Matt.”
“No, no, I want to hear, I’m just distracted. I’m sorry.”
But when he asked what was distracting me, I didn’t tell him that Sid had died. I didn’t tell him about how I’d known. Because telling my husband I had a deadly premonition that came true made me feel dark and creepy. And since Rhys was as practical as Shawn, there was no way he’d think it was really a premonition, so he’d ask all sorts of questions.
When I didn’t answer, Rhys said, “Okay, well. I’m tired. I guess I’m gonna go. I’ll talk to you soon.” His “I love you” was tinged with the minor key melancholy of “Cross-Country Blues” and I hated it.
I didn’t recognize anyone at the funeral. Even Carl, the guy Grin had said was Sid’s partner, only looked vaguely familiar. I wasn’t sure if I’d met him before or not. I had no trouble picking out Sid’s mom, though. She didn’t look like Sid, but she was the epicenter of grief and everyone else moved in patterns around her. She cried, and other people cried, and a priest or pastor or whatever you call those people said things, and I stood there alone.
What was the point of being here when the person I was here for was fucking dead and got nothing from it? I could almost hear Sid’s voice, sardonic and slightly gruff, in my ear. Been a second, Matthew. All it took to get you to hang out was dying, huh? Good to know.
I made a sound that might have been a giggle or a snort. The woman next to me offered a package of tiny tissues, and I stared at her in confusion because I hadn’t sneezed. Then I realized my cheeks were wet and my lips were trembling and I bolted, pushing past people and back outside, wiping my face on my sleeve.
I walked aimlessly, feeling light-headed and sick. I wasn’t even sure I would miss Sid, not exactly. And that made me sadder than missing her. Because at one time she had been really important to me, and if that could just fade—if feelings for someone could disappear just like that, then that must be how it happened.
That must be how people left each other. Because little by little their caring just went away.
My mother’s red lipstick, a kiss on my forehead, her shining eyes, her smiling mouth calling me tesoro, then nothing nothing nothing.
I was shaking even though it wasn’t cold out, and I stumbled to a bench on the corner and fumbled my phone out of my pocket. Rhys answered on the second ring, his voice tired and wary.
“Hey, babe.”
“Rhys,” I choked out, and then I didn’t know what to say.
“Matt, what’s wrong?”
I felt like I couldn’t breathe, and my heart fluttered so fast I sat down, afraid I’d fall.
“Promise me,” I said. “If the feelings start to go away, promise you’ll tell me? Don’t just—don’t just disappear?”
“Baby, what are you talking about? What feelings?”
“Your—for me.”
I heard muffled sounds on the line and then quiet. “Matt, honey,” Rhys said in his calming-a-wild-animal voice. “What’s wrong? Where are you? Are you at work?”
“No, I’m in Greenpoint. Just promise.”
“I promise that if I start to feel like I don’t love you anymore I will tell you instead of disappearing. But that’s not going to happen. I love you more than anything in the world. Now what the fuck is going on?”
“Nothing. Sid died.”
“Who’s Sid?”
Had I really never mentioned her?
“I…she was my friend. Mine and Grin’s. I woke up on Sunday, and I knew she was dead and now at her funeral I thought maybe I wouldn’t even miss her all that much cuz that’s just what happens is every single thing that holds us together and makes us care about each other just disintegrates and we’re not attached to anything, just specks flying around and bumping into each other and then drifting away.”
I wasn’t listening to myself. I had my head between my knees, crouched next to the bench, and I kept almost dropping my phone. My fingers felt oddly numb. Rhys was talking but I couldn’t make any sense of the words and then he was saying my name over and over.
“Sorry, what?”
“Matty, I need you to take a breath.” I took a breath. “Another one.” I took another one. “Can you hear me?”
I nodded, realized he couldn’t see me, and said, “Uh huh.”
“Okay, listen. I want you to grab a cab. Get in the cab, and take it home.”
My head spun. Home home home. I couldn’t think where that was. It was easier to take the subway from Brooklyn. But, no, home wasn’t my apartment. Not any of them. Not anymore.
“To Sleepy Hollow?”
Rhys paused. “Yeah, babe. Give them our address in Sleepy Hollow. You…you remember it?”
I knew our address but…“It’s so expensive.”
“It doesn’t matter. Do you have your credit card?”
I patted my pocket for my wallet.
“Yeah.”
“Okay. Go home, baby. I’m going to see you really soon.”
I blinked. “You are?” Had I lost track of the days again? It was still a few days until he came home, I was pretty sure.
“Yeah. Do you want me to stay on the phone while you get the cab and ride home?”
“No, I’m okay. Wait, but you’re not coming home until Saturday, right?”
“I’m gonna come home tonight.” It was his don’t bother arguing voice.
“No, no, Rhys. Don’t you have a show tonight?” I thought he did. Then they were driving home Friday and…was there a show Friday night? I wasn’t sure.
“I’m coming home tonight,” he said again.
I felt sick and my mind raced with regret and shame. I shouldn’t have called him. I was ruining everything. This was Rhys’s big chance for everything he wanted, and I was fucking it up for him. I wanted to throw up.
I sucked in a huge breath and used it to make my voice very okay. Very firm. “You can’t miss your shows. People are counting on you. They paid for their tickets, and they’d be so disappointed not to see you.”
“You’re counting on me, and you’re the only one I care about disappointing,” he sai
d, anger leeching into his voice. I knew what I had to say.
“Well, you’ll disappoint me if you cut your tour short because I had a bad day, okay? I’m an adult, I can take care of myself. I’ll be fine. Seriously. I just…I just freaked a little but I’m fine.”
I could feel his hesitation. He wanted to do the scheduled shows. Rhys was responsible, dependable. He hated to let people down.
“Seriously,” I said again. “I’m…I’m embarrassed I got so upset. Don’t make it a bigger deal than it is, okay?”
“I…I think I should come home.”
“Nah, come on. I’ll see you Saturday. Okay? I can’t wait to see you and hear all about this leg of the tour.” I needed a final nail in the coffin—no offense, Sid. “Besides, I’ve got a ton of clients tomorrow, and I’ll have to catch up from leaving early today, so I’ve gotta work late anyway, probably.”
“Matt. Are you sure you’re okay?”
I had him, but I couldn’t oversell or he’d know.
“Yeah. I’m…I miss you a lot, and I guess the funeral just kind of freaked me out. I’ve never been to one before. But I’ll be all right. I’m gonna go home like you said.”
“Okay,” he waffled. His voice sounded small and afraid. “Babe, you would tell me, wouldn’t you? Nothing is more important to me than you. Not this tour, not this album, nothing. If you need me, I’m there, no matter what.”
Tears streamed down my face. I’d never wanted anything more than I wanted him in that moment. But it was pointless. I’d see him soon and he’d finish the tour, win-win.
“Thank you,” I choked out. “I mean, I know, but it’s okay.”
“I love you so much, Matty. And I’m sorry if I was short with you last night. I guess I’m a little stressed out too. Tell me you know how much I love you?”
“I know that. I’m sorry too. And I love you too, so much. I’ll see you Saturday.”
I did go home, but I didn’t call a cab. I walked for a while, then got the subway, then picked up the train at Grand Central just before rush hour. At home, I stripped out of my clothes and stood under the shower until the hot water ran out.
I felt hollow. I hadn’t eaten all day so I had some cereal but felt just as hollow when I was done and didn’t bother making anything else. I curled up on the couch and dragged the blankets around me and tried to sleep, hoping for no dreams at all.
Over and over, I said: Rhys loves me, Rhys loves me. But outside, the branches still scraped, the wind still whined, and somewhere, almost out of hearing, something small and afraid was screaming.
* * *
—
I did stay late at work on Friday, not because I needed to make up for the day before but because I wanted to write a memo to Imari outlining the idea I’d mentioned to Rhys. I wanted to raise funds to get resources for our clients. Camera equipment and musical equipment and art supplies they could borrow or use for projects to enhance their résumés or to help them apply for jobs, colleges, fellowships. I included a provisional startup budget and then estimated yearly operating costs. We could start small, with whatever we could get, and expand from there.
I was pleased with the idea, and as I pressed send on the email I realized how completely horrible I’d felt lately, because this was the first time since before Rhys left that I noticed feeling good about…well, anything. My job at Mariposa had changed my life, and I loved it. I felt good there, like I was useful, worth something. But the last few weeks had even sucked the satisfaction out of work. It was like Theo had said about Caleb: Sometimes you couldn’t notice how bad things were until something good showed you the difference.
Chapter 9
I startled awake in the middle of the night to the sound of the front door creaking open, then a muffled thump and growl. I jerked upright, heart pounding, eyes straining to see anything in the dark.
The dark shape rose up and I could see its true size. Huge, hulking. It could tear me apart.
Then its form resolved itself into something I recognized.
“Rhys?”
He jumped, clutching his chest. “Fuck, you scared me.” He dropped his duffel and guitar case on the floor inside the door.
“You’re not supposed to be home until tomorrow,” I scratched out, fear and relief warring in my chest. “Right?”
“I caught a red-eye instead of going on the bus. What are you doing on the couch?”
But before I had time to think how to answer, he was sitting down next to me and all my uncertainties were jettisoned because Rhys! I threw myself onto him and he caught me, pulling me close.
“Baby,” he murmured, and I buried my face in his neck and we hung on to each other in the dark. “Fuck, I missed you so damn much.”
I practically sobbed at the relief of him being home, of it being over. With Rhys’s arms around me, in the dark, I felt all the fight drain out of me, every stitch I’d taken to try and hold myself together unravel. I twined my fingers in his hair and in my head I chanted, Don’t leave me, please don’t leave me again, please.
As if he could sense what I was thinking, Rhys squeezed me even tighter. “I’m here now. I’m not going anywhere.”
I cringed. “Hi,” I murmured. Then, “I’m still kind of asleep.”
“Me too. Let’s go to bed, okay?”
I stumbled to my feet and held out a hand to help Rhys up. He stood, and I froze, just looking at him in the dark.
“What?” he asked, cupping my cheek.
“I forgot how big you are,” I mumbled stupidly.
“You like that, baby?” he purred.
“You know I do.”
I meant to make some joke or say something flirtatious but every ounce of energy had drained out of me. Exhaustion, then adrenaline, then relief had wrung me out, and I just sagged against Rhys’s side.
“Bedtime,” he said, and then he picked me up.
I should have been embarrassed, but after a flash of You shouldn’t like this I just wrapped my arms around his neck and my legs around his waist and let him carry me upstairs and drop me on the bed.
“Wantyoutofuckme,” I mumbled into the pillow as Rhys collapsed next to me.
I stayed awake just long enough to hear him say, “No chance, babe,” and then sleep took us both.
I was dreaming I was underwater, rocked gently on the eddies of the ocean all around me, and woke to Rhys inside me. One moment I was asleep, the next I was aware only of pleasure and warmth and fullness.
I had fantasized about this but never stayed asleep long enough to make it happen. Guess I’d found the silver lining of weeks of nightmares and insomnia: being conked out enough to wake up being fucked by your husband’s huge cock. That was optimism for ya.
“Oh!” I gasped.
Rhys groaned, burying himself all the way inside me. “Morning,” he said and kissed me. We kissed slow and deep, tongues tangling, hips moving. I was still half-asleep, my body loose and heavy. Rhys moving inside me was a pulsing, dreamy heat, and I didn’t want it to ever end.
I curled my knees to my chest to get him deeper and closed my eyes. I was in a perfect bubble of warmth and pleasure, and I wanted to shut out everything in the world that wasn’t Rhys’s hands on my body, Rhys’s mouth on mine, Rhys’s cock inside me.
As we fucked, I grabbed at every part of him I could reach, inching us closer and closer until we were wrapped up so tightly we could hardly move and all we could do was rock together.
I felt each subtle shift of our bodies. The pressure at my entrance where the root of Rhys’s erection kept me open. The deep, throbbing sweetness of my muscles clenching and relaxing around the penetration. The lightning bright crackles of pleasure when he rubbed over my prostate. Then the haze cleared, and he laid my feet flat on his chest and thrust into me hard.
We were slick with sweat, hands grasping, ch
ests heaving, and when I looked up at Rhys I saw a blond, fire-eyed beast just waiting for permission to consume me.
“Rhys, fuck me, please yes, fuck me.”
His eyelids fluttered like he was overwhelmed with lust, and then he was driving into me so hard I saw stars. I let him take over my body, every muscle going shaky.
“Oh God, baby, you’re so fucking hot like this,” Rhys rumbled. “Letting me have you like this. I want you to come on my cock. Wanna feel you squeeze all around me. That tight little hole, gorgeous ass, yeah.”
I groaned and lost track of what he was saying, just wanting it all to keep going. Rhys bit at my shoulder and sucked at my neck, and then his big, callused hand closed over my cock and I was gone. He stripped me to the rhythm of his thrusts, the pleasure swelling like a bubble just on the edge of popping. I was groaning into his mouth and he was sucking my tongue and jerking me and fucking me and then the bubble burst and I was screaming my orgasm, pleasure wracking me.
I shot into his hand and over my stomach and my ass clenched, and then Rhys came, shouting and twitching and sinking his teeth into my neck. He groaned weakly as he came down and pressed a kiss to the bite mark on my neck. As he slid out of me, he gathered me to him, and we breathed together, sweaty chests heaving, muscles slowly relaxing, heartbeats finally slowing.
“That okay?” he asked, and I huffed out a laugh.
“Uh, that was awesome,” I said. “Didn’t you notice?”
His grin was endearingly proud. “Yeah. I just meant, the beginning. You wanted to wake up with me already inside you, but we’d never managed it before. Just checking.”
I slid my hand into his sweaty hair and looked at his chest. “It was great. I felt like…part of you.”
“You are part of me.” He stated it so matter-of-factly that it took me a second to process. Then my heart started pounding and my breathing went all wonky and I felt a magnitude of joy so great my body didn’t know how to contain it. Rhys ran his palm up and down my spine. “You’re mine,” he whispered, gathering me closer, and I let myself drift back to sleep on a sea of his smell.