By Wednesday evening I was officially a mess. I showered, shaved, and washed my hair knowing I was getting ready for him, unsure of how exactly he was getting to me. I didn’t know how he was coming to me because I didn't know how to stop the absence of Peter from my life.
In the course of 33 hours without him, I missed Peter until it was a constant ache in my chest. I missed him until I simply couldn't take it anymore. I couldn't stop obsessing about all things Peter. And no matter how hard I tried, I couldn't stop myself from missing him.
Eventually, after I had decided I didn't care about being weak anymore, I grabbed the phone among all the cast-off tissues, sandwich plates, and drinking glasses all over my coffee table, and I called him.
I held my breath as I dialed, and I exhaled when he answered.
“Hi Sophie,” he answered without pause.
“Hi...” But, well, I was me, so talking openly was still difficult.
Thankfully, Peter continued the conversation for me. “How are you feeling?”
“Terrible,” I sighed.
“Still? That's not good, Soph. Your cold should've lessened by now. Have you been eating?”
“Of course,” I answered quietly because I couldn't admit to everything I wanted to say.
“What's wrong, baby?”
“I don't feel well,” I huffed again at my stupidity.
“Like how?” He asked clearly sounding concerned.
So bracing myself, I said all I could. “Um, it's not the cold...”
“Then what is it? Tell me what you need from me.” And that was when I knew what he wanted.
In that very moment I knew he was testing me, and provoking me, and almost daring me. He wanted me to tell him what I needed from him, and he wanted to hear me give into our relationship. He wanted me to give into my needs, and he wanted me to give into him, completely.
So inhaling deeply, I went for it. “I miss you...” I moaned with a dramatic exhale.
“Why?” He asked like a complete asshole, which made me almost snap at him but thankfully I reeled in my temper before yelling as I tried to speak the truth he needed from me.
“Because you matter to me.”
“Why?”
“Oh, god. Why are you doing this to me?” I cried. I was exhausted and sad and I still felt like shit, and I just wanted him to stop. “Please stop. You know why.”
“Why do you miss me?” He asked seriously, almost like he didn't actually know the answer. So I gave him the best answer I could.
“Because, Peter... I think you might be a forever for me. I think. And I want to try to be a forever with you instead of...” but again I couldn’t find the words.
For all my ambition and drive, my good grades, and verbal talents. For all my kindness and security around others, I was totally screwed with Peter. I was so out of my comfort zone the words were just gone, like they didn't even exist. I didn't even know what they were supposed to be or what they should have sounded like coming out of my mouth.
“Peter... please,” I begged desperately.
In that moment I didn't care how pathetic I sounded because I was sad and depressed. Though I had never known the feeling of depression before in my life, it felt like others had described it so I was pretty sure it was depression I was suffering. And I was exhausted from it.
“I'll be over in half an hour,” Peter finally said. “I've missed you, Sophie, so much. But I'll see you soon,” he said as he disconnected.
Listening to the sudden dial tone, I exhaled all my nervous tension. Breathing finally, I fell back onto my couch from the crunched over the coffee table position I had held for the better part of our conversation, and I tried to relax my mind.
I tried to get excited for his arrival, and I tried to be happy. But the sadness hadn't lifted with our conversation, and the pain was still throbbing inside my chest. I missed him, and I knew being without him was too much for me to handle. Even with the potential for a recovery when he came to me, I still couldn't find any happiness in anything because he wasn’t with me when I needed him.
So I walked to the front door to unlock it, followed by a bathroom break and a good teeth brushing before I pulled my hair into a proper ponytail, and I washed my nasty face.
In the bathroom I looked at myself thoroughly. I wore leggings and a huge sweater, and though my clothes were clean I was sloppy looking. I wore no makeup so my eyes didn't pop, and my lips looked smaller and less defined without lipstick. I stared at myself and realized I just didn’t look like me at all anymore.
Walking back to my living room to lie on the couch while I waited for the sadness to lift, I realized I really wasn't the same anymore, because of Peter.
*****
A short while later I heard Peter knock on my door as I sat up. And in a quiet voice, so unlike my real voice, I said come in to my door slowly opening while I kept my back turned from him as he approached.
Seconds later when Peter finally stood before me I looked at him through my tears as he squatted down in front of me to gently rest his hands on my knees.
“What's wrong, Sophie?” He asked me in a whisper.
“I don't feel right anymore. Something's wrong with me, like I'm sad or something, and I hate this feeling...” I confessed quietly.
“Do you want me to leave?” Peter asked, which made me shake a little.
Looking at Peter after he spoke, he seemed so calm I felt like he was ready to leave me. He seemed so ready to leave this new us we had been trying to create, I hurt more inside. But after a moment of thought, I found myself shaking my head slightly, breathing a nearly silent 'no'.
There was a part of me though that truly wanted to say yes. I found myself blaming him for all the upset inside me which kind of made me want him to go. But then I thought about how much I loved being with him, and I wanted him to stay.
Instead of a coherent answer I heard myself ask, “Why isn't this easier?” As I hung my head in sadness.
Tilting and lowering his head so he could look into my lowered eyes, Peter whispered, “Because we care for each other deeply. If we didn't care so much, we could walk away. But we do care, so it makes the good amazing and the bad much harder,” he spoke gently. “I missed you when we were apart, Sophie, and I know you missed me. So why didn’t you call me sooner if you needed me? You could have stopped missing me and been with me. Why did you wait so long?”
“Because you didn't call. And I didn't want to be weak. I, um, I don't call men, they call me,” I admitted embarrassed.
“I'll always call, but not because you won't. I'll call because I want to see you. But there can't be games between us, because I won't play them.”
“I wasn't playing games, I just...” but again I stopped speaking as reality set in. “I guess I was playing games, but I didn't mean to. You're different for me and I don't know how to do this.”
Nodding, Peter continued. “I think I know that, but it still hurts me when you won't just be with me however feels natural to you. You fight whatever’s going on between us and I don't know why. Why can't you just be with me, in every way you want and need without stopping and holding back? Why can't you just tell me when you need something, so I can give it?” He asked so seriously I felt something break deep inside me.
“Um... I don't know how to fail, Peter. I- they failed, I didn't,” I said truthfully, which really was the truth as I saw it. Whether right or wrong, my 3 relationships failed because of a shortcoming of theirs, not mine.
“I was so good to them, providing everything they needed without getting my own needs met until the moment I decided I was done, and then I left them. But I might fail with you because we're very different.”
“Why do we have to fail?” He asked sitting beside me on the couch while taking my hands into his own.
“I don’t know… because I'm driven and intense and not as much fun as I used to be because I want to be a successful adult, and you're- no offense, but like interesting and passionate
, and into alternative holistic medicine, and you cook with organic chicken, and you massage and stuff. I don't know how to explain what I mean. Not that you don't work, but you're not driven like I am and I'm scared you'll stop liking me later if I'm all professional, striving for more, and you're all relaxed and happy with where you're at,” I paused afraid, but Peter nodded for me to continue.
“Um, I think I just picture me all intense in my thirties and you all relaxed and disgusted with me when I fight for more or something. I wish I could explain it, but I think we're going to fail and this time it won't be your fault, it'll be mine, and I don't want that.”
After another moment of pause between us, Peter finally exhaled and said, “We’ve barely started and you've already ended us. Why do you need to do that?”
“I don't know. So I'm prepared for it?” I asked the question for us both.
“Why not prepare for being with me happily for as long as we can? And if in the future, next week or 30 years from now we end, at least you enjoyed me and loved our relationship while we were together. Why not live with me happily hoping nothing goes wrong, instead of being unhappy making everything go wrong? Because at this point Sophie, you're the only one hurting you with all your mental garbage and over-thinking.”
“I'm more of an expect the worst and everything else is cake, kind of girl,” I replied with a sad grin.
“But I may surprise you.”
“You do. Frequently. And that's part of the problem. I can't really figure you out.”
“So ask me and I'll tell you. Or just stop trying to figure me out. What's the point? I could tell you everything you want to hear, and then life changes and I do the opposite of what you figured anyway. The minute you called me, I dropped everything to come to you because you needed me and wanted me. I dropped everything because you asked me to come to you, Sophie. Do you see that?” He asked as I nodded.
As I looked at him silently I realized trusting Peter was all I could do. Peter was an anomaly for me. He was intense and relaxed. He was beautiful and egoless. He was everything I wanted in a package I never even thought to want. Peter was just Peter, and it was him that I wanted.
“I want to just enjoy you, I really do. But I'm new to these feelings, and I'm new to this kind of life. I’m new to being with someone, so I try to change everything into something I know and understand. But I don't understand you, or this amazing thing between us. But starting today, I'm going to try. I promise I'll stop all the shit in my head, and I'll just try to be with you as we are. Like right now, I'll start trying, I promise.”
“You don't need to make promises, Sophie, you just need to be with me. However you are, as long as you're with me openly, we'll be happy together, I promise,” he said pulling me close to him. “I missed you, Sophie. Very much.”
“I missed you, too.” I exhaled. “I was a bit of a loser while you were gone,” I confessed laughing at myself.
“How so?”
“No way. Too embarrassing,” I giggled.
“I drew and painted you 9 times since I last saw you,” he laughed. “I left Cam’s house and started painting, and before I knew it, it was almost 4 in the morning. Seriously. There are 9 portraits and paintings of you in my living room. It’s a little creepy and shrine-like, but I couldn't stop myself.”
“That is creepy,” I grinned. “I just poured your jasmine oil on a pillow and cuddled up to it. You're way sicker than I am,” I laughed as he pinched me again while pulling me into his side.
Then we were silent. Maybe processing all the confessions, or just enjoying each other a little less sadly, I didn’t know. But I felt okay within the silence until Peter finally spoke a few minutes later.
“You look terrible, baby. And I mean that in an endearing, concerned way.”
“I know. This cold has been ridiculous, and I look a little Rudolph over here with the red, runny nose issue I've got.”
“I brought a tincture to help, if you'd like?”
“Please,” I said as he moved me a little to go in his jacket pocket before he walked to my kitchen.
When Peter returned, he handed me a shot of orange juice with some funky brown oily looking crap on top of the juice.
“Spin it in the glass quickly so they blend together, then shoot it back. The tincture tastes terrible but it clears up the sinuses and it also has wild cherry bark for your sore throat.”
So holding the glass I swirled it as he said with a little mumbled thank you before I shot the drink down. Gulping it down was pretty gross, but I hoped it would help.
After placing the glass on the table, I said, “Friday is New Years',” almost as a question. “Do you have any plans?”
“I do. My sister Carrie begged me to watch my niece a month ago, before you, so I agreed. Do you have plans?”
“Um, yes. My girlfriend Amy is having a huge party and I said I'd go. She's had it for the last 3 years and it's awesome. It’s huge, loud, and very immature and I love it…” But suddenly thinking of Amy’s party I couldn't stand the thought of being away from Peter again.
“We could always meet up later? My sister promised they'd be back by 1:00 at the latest, which isn't too bad. I could meet you here later, or...” And now he left the plans open.
“Maybe I'll just stop by Amy's, then meet you at your sisters?”
“Whatever you want. But I would like to bring in the New Year with you,” he smiled which made my heart melt because I wanted that too.
“Okay. So that's the plan. I'll go to Amy's, put in an appearance, then I'll meet you at your sisters shortly after midnight. Sound good?”
“Very. And if my niece is still up, I'd love for you to meet her. I'm totally in love with her and she knows it. Moira tends to get whatever she wants from her Uncle Peter,” he smirked.
“I can't wait to meet her then. I'd love to see you wrapped around a little girl's finger.”
“Then open your eyes, Sophie, and you'll see me wrapped around yours,” he said so suddenly the very atmosphere in the living room changed.
“I don't want...” But that was another lie. I did want that. I wanted it totally so I felt like we were even in this relationship.
“Kiss me Sophie, like you mean it. Don't think, and don't talk. Be with me like we both need, and just kiss me,” he breathed quietly.
And in that moment between us, after all the words and emotions, the stops and starts, the insecurities and fears, I knew our reality. I knew we were officially beginning the greatest love story of my life.
I looked at Peter asking me for a kiss and I knew I would give him everything. I was going to change, and I was going to be everything he needed me to be. I would learn to be open with him, and I would learn to ask for what I wanted and needed from him.
In that powerful, charged moment between us I knew without a doubt that I would love him forever.
So I kissed him.
As I climbed into Peter's lap, wrapping my arms around his neck, I looked at his beautiful face before slowly moving in to kiss him. When our lips touched I was so happy and relieved, everything inside me jolted with a kind of peaceful homecoming. The pain was gone and the fear instantly disappeared. I knew as soon as we kissed that I was where I needed to be.
Peter kissed me holding my head in his hands closer to him. He kissed me back as desperately as I kissed him. We kissed each other as other couples made love; desperately, passionately, thoroughly, and with a promise of love to carry us into our lives together.
When my sweater was removed, I raised onto my knees, so he could kiss my breasts, and when his hand slid down my tights, I moved my legs further apart for him. When he touched my body I moaned into his mouth as he took me into another deep kiss.
Moving, I was held by Peter as he kissed me to my bedroom. Moving, our kisses remained and our touches continued. I lifted off his sweater in the hallway, and snapped his jeans at my bedroom door. We undressed as we walked together to our final destination.
When the b
ack of my legs touched my bed, Peter dropped to his knees, pulled my tights and panties with him, then paused breathing in my scent. He paused, as I held his head tighter to me. He paused and everything inside me became tight with my need.
Placing me on my bed, Peter crawled up my body for another kiss that wiped my mind clear of everything but us.
In that moment Peter was everything I knew. From his scent to his touch, to the look in his glistening eyes, I knew only him.
Looking at his beautiful blue eyes I shook with the love inside me. And when a tear slid down his cheek I looked at him with nothing less than the greatest love I could offer, until Peter whispered, “I don’t want to face a single day without you, Sophie,” then I wept in his arms from his confession.
We made love together after his confession, cemented as the couple I had always wanted to be. We made love slowly, passionately, and without reserve. We moved and moaned, and shook and cried together.
He kissed me and touched me and brought me to my plateau before sliding deep inside me. He kissed me down and built me back up. He touched me with his fingers and tongue until I was gasping and shaking, until Peter brought me to the end of my struggle as he finished me.
Sliding back inside me, he touched me until I came in his arms with a groan and a gasp as my mind blanked, and my body caved in on itself.
Peter made love to me, came inside me, and finished our beginning.
I could feel Peter and I were together finally. And I knew I would love him forever.
And that was the quick and the slow of me and Peter.
In mere weeks, filled with every insecurity and fear I possessed, we had come through our struggle into the beginning of the greatest love I would ever know.
That quiet, amazing night in late December, Peter and I began our beautiful life together.
*****
Days later, New Year’s Eve came and passed for us. I went to the party at Amy’s, and Peter met me at my place after babysitting. We met at 1:30 in the morning and we made love until we were nearly lifeless in each other's arms early the following morning.
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