“Jude?”
He let out his breath. “Can we do this face to face?”
My heart hammered in my chest. Did that mean he was going to break up with me?
“Sure,” I whispered.
Raking my hands through my messy hair, I paced the kitchen, my stomach roiling. I caught sight of myself in the glass of the oven. I looked a fright, my hair a mass of frizz, my eyes red and puffy.
“Oh, shit.” I ran to the bathroom, twisting my hair into a bun on the top of my head. With one hand, I smeared BB cream all over my skin, and with the other, I brushed my teeth. Then I swiped on some mascara and some rose-tinted lip gloss, pressing my lips together just as he knocked on the front door.
Taking one last look at my reflection, I decided that would have to do as I took a deep breath to calm my nerves. Then I went to the door, opening it to find a freshly showered Jude standing on the other side. He looked and smelled wonderful.
“Hey,” I said, leaning against the door.
He pressed his lips into a smile, adjusted his glasses, then cleared his throat. “Can I?” He pointed past me and I stood to the side, letting him in.
He drifted past me without touching. I felt sure he’d come here to tell me it was over, and my mind raced, trying to think of what I could say to explain my behaviour and change his mind. I wasn’t ready for us to be over yet.
“I need to tell you how much I enjoyed last night. It was the most fun I’ve had in so long, and then, in your apartment,” I paused as the blush crept up my cheeks as I remembered how direct I’d been and how in tune our bodies had seemed, “it was…amazing.”
“But?” he added, folding his arms protectively across his chest. The way his shoulders curved and his jaw pressed, I realised that he was the one who was worried. Did he think I was planning on breaking up with him? I didn’t know enough about his history to understand why he’d come to that conclusion, and I suppose he didn’t know much about mine either. Neither of us knew how important last night had been to the other. I needed to explain my side.
“But nothing. It…you…were amazing. From crashing the party to drinking far too much to all that…stuff, we did. I can’t fault a moment of it.”
“Then why did you leave?”
I took a deep breath and glanced towards the shelf that housed our family pictures. It held images of Ty as a baby, of our European holiday a couple of years ago, and photos of our wedding.
“Because it was the first time I’d had sex since Tyler.”
“Had he been your first?”
“No. I’m not inexperienced; there were others before him, but after him…” I shook my head. “I just haven’t had any interest. Until I met you, of course.” I smiled tentatively. “So, it was a big deal for me to give myself to you. In the moment, my mind was clear on what I wanted and I wanted you. But, when I woke up during the night, I felt this surge of emotion and I needed to deal with it on my own. So I left. I wasn’t trying to hurt you.”
“Do you regret what we did?”
Moving closer to him, I placed my hands on his forearms, looking up into his soft brown eyes. “Not for a second. I don’t want to take it back. I don’t want to slow things down. I simply needed…a moment.”
He nodded, then let out his breath. “OK.”
“You’re not angry?”
Unfolding his arms, he brushed the backs of his fingers against the side of my face. “How could I be angry when I like you so much?”
“What is it you like?”
The corner of his mouth tilted upward a little. “You want a list?”
“It would help.” I grinned.
“OK.” He ran his hand down the length of my arm, stopping when he caught my fingers in his. “You’re brave. That was the first thing I learned about you.”
“Is that because I punched you in the nose?”
He laughed. “Partly. You were tough that day, but you were kind too. I think that’s when it started for me. When you came back and helped me. There aren’t a lot of people willing to put things right the way you did. That was brave.”
I smiled, feeling a little proud of myself. I’d never thought of our first meeting that way. I’d been so embarrassed by the way I’d behaved that I hadn’t contemplated how he would have viewed me.
“What else?” I asked, enjoying his compliments.
“You want more?” He chuckled and I nodded. “I like your mind, your sharp wit, your perspective on the world. You ask questions and you don’t pretend to know everything like most adults do, and you aren’t afraid to argue your point of view. You’re fearless.” Tugging on my hands he pulled me a little closer. “And I really like looking at you. All of you. And after last night, I think I really like your mouth.” Releasing my hands, he ran his thumb against my bottom lip. I had an inclination to lave it with my tongue and suck it into my mouth.
I blushed at the thought.
“I also adore the way your cheeks do this.” He brushed his fingers against them before resting his hand against the curve of my neck, his thumb moving gently against my skin.
The motion made me heady. “Can I ask you something?” I whispered.
He answered yes with his expressive eyes.
“Last night. In bed. Is that how you always are?” I felt a little awkward about asking, as I’d never really been the kind of person to dissect the goings-on in the bedroom, but I’d never had sex with someone who was so in charge before. For someone who was so awkward and restrained in his normal life, he’d held little back once our clothes came off. It was sexy as hell.
“Was it too much?”
“No,” I practically shouted, my cheeks even hotter from the memory and this conversation. “I just…wasn’t expecting you to be so—”
“Aggressive?”
A nervous laugh bounced out of my chest. “Yeah. But in a good way.” My fingers played with the button on his polo shirt. I met his eyes and swallowed. “In a very good way.”
“I can be gentle too,” he assured me, his voice soft.
I felt my body react with interest. “I’d like to try that.”
“Are you sure?”
My answer came fast. “Yes. And I promise not to run away this time.”
“You know, you can talk to me about this stuff. If you’re upset or just want to talk about him, it’s OK. I want to be a part of your life. I don’t want you to hide your grief from me.”
“I promise, I’ll try.”
“Good,” he whispered, pulling me closer, his mouth brushing against mine. “I really like you, Sarah.”
“I like you too,” I returned, tilting my head upward, my already kiss-swollen lips longing to return to his. “About that thing you were going to show me…”
He grinned against my mouth. “You mean that gentle thing that involved no clothes?”
I thought for a second. “Yeah, that.”
He captured my lips in his, kissing me deeply, slowly, his tongue masterful in its exploration of my mouth. He left me feeling breathless and weak at the knees, needing to lean against him to stay upright.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he said with a grin.
I laughed in this breathy way I hadn’t heard come out of my mouth before. “Maybe I can jog your memory,” I said, taking him by the hand and leading him into my bedroom. I opened the door the same way I had the night before. He took one look at my bed then lifted me off the floor, his mouth on mine as he lowered me onto the mattress. We took our time, we moved together slowly. I lost myself to the feeling of his body inside mine, and this time, I didn’t cry. This time, I stayed with him, savouring every moment, letting myself fall a little deeper.
Just in time for Christmas, I’ve regained the ability to function again. A Christmas miracle some might call it. But there’s nothing miraculous about this disease. It takes and it takes and it gives little warning. The relapses feel like death. The recovery feels like I’m dragging my body through wet cement. The only thi
ng that keeps me going is that promise I made to Sarah that I’d keep returning to her side. And I will. Until of course she tells me to stop.
*
Excerpt from Tyler’s Journal
18
Saturday, 24th December 2016
“YOU’VE GOT THIS…glow,” my mother noted, looking at me from across the table as I peeled potatoes for her famous potato salad that we’d be enjoying the next day. Christmas was here, and I’d brought Ty to the country to spend a week on the farm. I loved bringing him back to Moama. It felt different being here now than it had when I was a kid. Now, it was about showing my son the town his parents had grown up in; it was about reconnecting with my family and embracing my roots.
“A glow?” I laughed, throwing a peeled spud in the bowl of water before picking up another.
“And you’re laughing easier. If I didn’t know any better, I’d think you were happy.”
I pressed my lips together, hiding a secret smile as I thought of Jude. He’d become a permanent fixture in my life, spending most nights with me talking until the wee hours of the morning after showing me some variation of gentle and aggressive in the bedroom. We were taking our time exploring each other’s bodies and minds, but we were careful to keep our new relationship away from Ty’s young eyes with Jude leaving while it was still dark to go back to his apartment well before Ty woke up.
Each day that went by, I found myself smiling a little more, feeling a little lighter. I also found that my dreams of Tyler had receded and I wasn’t reaching for his journal as often as I once did.
Not that my thoughts of Tyler had gone completely, but I could separate my relationship with Jude with my longing for Tyler so I could somehow have both. It didn’t seem to make a lot of sense when I tried to explain it to Janesa the weekend before, but it was working for me. I needed both men, even though one was only a memory, so I was going to keep my life working that way.
“Are you seeing someone?” Her eyes narrowed as she studied me, her mouth kicking up a little on the side.
I blushed and bit my bottom lip, unable to control my smile anymore.
My mother reached across the table and took a hold of my hand, gasping in excitement. “You are! Who is he? Tell me his name? Tell me everything.” She sounded like a teenage girl.
“His name is Jude,” I told her with a smile. “He lives in my building and it’s still very new.”
“Has he met Ty?”
“Yes. They get along great. But I’m trying to keep the relationship part away from Ty’s knowledge. I don’t want him to get too attached in case things don’t work out.”
“Is there any reason they wouldn’t?”
I shrugged. “Like I said, it’s new. And it’s the first relationship I’ve had since—”
“Since Tyler.”
“Yeah.”
“How are you feeling about it all?”
“Good. I like how things are going. I really like him. He’s British, you know.”
“Oh, I do like a man with an accent.”
“It’s really sexy.” I grinned.
“And where is he right now? You didn’t want to bring him with you? I’d love to meet him.”
“I don’t know if that’s appropriate at the moment. He’s spending Christmas with his family. We’re not quite up to spending holidays together. I’ve known him for a little over two months and we’ve been dating seriously for about two weeks. Very early days.”
“Next year then,” she said with great confidence as she went back to Christmas Day food preparations.
“Next year,” I agreed, smiling to myself because it felt so good to have my mother happy for me after the animosity I’d received from Susan. She was still so angry with me and barely said anything to me when I picked up Ty after work, or when she dropped him off on Saturday mornings. She never stayed for coffee, and didn’t invite me for tea. Our relationship had become little more than a transaction, a little boy the currency.
“Now you look sad,” Mum commented, obviously watching my expressions closely.
“Oh, it’s nothing.” I waved the hand holding the potato peeler dismissively. “It’s just this thing with Susan.”
“She’s still not talking to you?” I spoke to my mother over the phone quite often, and had told her about the argument over Tyler’s things. She’d assured me that I was doing the right thing and it had been comforting to have her in my corner.
“Thankfully she isn’t letting it affect her time with Ty, but she’s making me feel like I’m some kind of a harlot.”
“She knows about Jude?”
“Vaguely. Ty told her about him, but she hasn’t met him. She was so offended at the idea of me moving on, I dare not prove it to her.”
She tilted her head to the side a little. “I’m not sure I like this term ‘moving on’, because you aren’t exactly moving on from Tyler, are you? You aren’t going to get over him or stop loving him just because you’ve met someone else.”
“Right. And honestly, it’s so confusing because I know that if Tyler was alive, I wouldn’t have even looked at Jude and I feel bad about that. And it must be hard for him knowing that he isn’t my first choice and that I am his—well, I’m assuming I am. I don’t think he’s been married before.”
“You don’t know that about him?”
I shrugged. “That’s a bit selfish, I suppose.” Honestly, the conversation about past relationships had never come up. Possibly because he already knew about Tyler, possibly because we were too busy focusing on ourselves, or because we purposely avoided asking any questions that could be considered ‘small talk’. But I knew it was something I needed to ask him. He hadn’t been very forthcoming about his past. I knew a little about when he was a boy. But he didn’t speak of anything that occurred after his mother died. I figured there was a lot of pain there because of his father’s alcoholism, so in truth, I was giving him the time and space to talk to me about it when he was ready. I felt that was only fair when he’d been so understanding with me.
“The only thing that really matters is that he’s making you happy. I didn’t think I’d ever see you like this again.”
“He does, Mum. He makes me happy. Really happy.”
“Did you swim here when you were wittle like me?” Ty asked as we trekked along the bush trail that led to a quiet part of the Murray River that was away from the jet-and waterskiing and raucous teens. I glanced over there, watching a boy of maybe sixteen running at the water and dive-bombing a couple of squealing girls. He flipped his hair back, the sun catching the spray of water as it shot up in the air. The girls laughed some more, protecting their faces with their hands. I thought of Tyler, my memory travelling back to hot summers in high school when we were the noisy teens. Well, he was, I was the bookish one who sat on a towel reading in the shade, refusing to join in.
“I sure did. Grandad used to bring your uncle Harry and me here all the time. We had great fun.”
“Grandad is your daddy,” he stated.
“That’s right,” I told him, setting our things on the ground and pulling out his swim vest.
He lifted his arms so I could pull it over his head.
“Is he my daddy too?”
“No. Your daddy’s name was Tyler, just like yours, remember?”
“My daddy is in heaven because he got sick and died before I was borned.”
“That’s right. But he would have loved you so much. He was a golden boy, just like you.” He’d been big on asking questions lately. I could tell that because of preschool, he was becoming more aware of family structures and was trying to sift through all that knowledge and work out where everyone fit in around him.
“Just like me?” He grinned and twisted his upper body from side to side.
“Just like you.”
He giggled then looked over his shoulder to the water. “Can we go swimming now?”
“Of course we can.”
And just like that, the conversation was over. Ty
was too young to fully comprehend what had happened to his father, but it would always be something that would play on his mind, the absence of a man he never knew but looked so much like. It would be a burden for him and I knew I had to do my best to help him feel connected enough to his father in order to lessen that burden’s effect. I just didn’t know if I was doing it right. It was something that only time could tell.
As I watched Ty splash in the water and giggle with some other kids, I thanked the gods that MS wasn’t a genetic disease. I didn’t think I would cope if Ty faced that fate too.
The thought pierced the centre of my chest, causing me to gasp involuntarily. Once upon a time, Susan had been just like me. Probably sitting right where I was, watching her own golden boy splash in the water the same way Ty was. At the time, she would have had no idea that that beautiful boy was going to be taken away from her so soon. She would have looked at him and seen nothing but the future. It made me want to call her, see how she was. I missed our talks, missed our camaraderie. She’d been such an important part of my life over the last five years, that it saddened me that she’d turned her back on me now. Although, perhaps that’s exactly how she felt toward me?
Feeling the need to connect with her and let her know that I was still here, still available to her, still wanting our friendship, I pulled out my phone and tapped out a text.
Me: Happy Christmas Eve! Looking forward to Facetiming you tomorrow. xx
It was kind of lame, and I thought on it for a few moments, wondering if perhaps I should say something different instead of being so casual. But in the end, I thought a happy message would be best and tapped ‘send’. It flipped to ‘read’ within seconds. But the dots to indicate some sort of impending response never came. She still didn’t want to talk to me.
I hoped she’d eventually change her mind, because as I sat there creating new memories with my golden boy, I think I understood better her sense of betrayal. She was alone. Her son had died. She only had memories now, whereas I still had my little boy, my golden boy. Oh, Susan. I’m so sorry.
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