by Kira Berger
I’m pulled back into Duncan’s arms and held tight halfway through Sean’s monologue. I haven’t noticed I’m crying until I feel his hand on my face wiping my tears away with his thumb. I look at him when the most profound line of this scene plays out on the screen. The one line that resonates with me and has even more since I discovered what loss means. But it wasn’t until a few months ago I realized what the character actually meant by this. How you don’t know actual loss until you lose someone you loved more than yourself.
I don’t have to utter a word for him to understand though. I can see the understanding of what I’m trying to tell him dawn on him. Even though he doesn’t know the whole story, he knows what I’m grieving. My family. The people who loved me unconditionally, despite being an idiot at times, despite driving them up the wall with my independence streak a mile long.
In a move I didn’t expect, instead of asking me any questions he just kisses me long and deep, telling me it’s all right without using the words. Once he’s satisfied the message was received, he tops off my wine before he settles us back into the couch to finish the movie that will forever remind me of my mother, her smile, her advice, her listening ear when I needed it. It’s bittersweet, a mixture of sad and happy memories all entangled in this movie. But for the first time since I lost them, I don’t feel like my heart is shattered into a million pieces whenever I watch this movie. And if I’m being honest with myself, it has a lot to do with the person next to me, his combination of quiet strength and tenderness makes me feel safe for some reason. Safe to remember them and all the happiness they used to bring into my life.
***
Later that night, after we finished the movie and watched a couple episodes of a show called Power—Duncan gave me shit for never having seen it and forced me to watch it—we clean up and he leads me back toward the bedroom.
Unlike earlier, when I was led in here, I have time to look around his room. It’s decorated in blues and grays with white walls. His bed is a king size with a navy-blue comforter, which is still on the floor where we threw it earlier. It’s set against the wall underneath a big set of windows that look into the backyard. Nightstands sit next to the bed on each side. What I assume are doors for a closet are set into the wall next to the bathroom. On the wall across the room, I notice an old mahogany dresser. It’s scuffed and scratched like it’s been moved a few times and has many stories to tell from all its owners. On top of it I can see picture frames filled with mementos of the past. I assume they are his family and friends.
You can tell he has made this house a home. A place to relax, have people over, to feel safe in. Unlike me, who’s currently living in someone else’s. Who’s never really felt at home since I left my childhood home when I was eighteen.
I’m nervous and all of this only adds to it.
We’ve already had sex twice—crazy, wickedly amazing, wild sex—and yet, I feel like it’s the first time all over again.
I expected a repeat performance of earlier when he threw me on the bed and ravished me, but instead, he moves away from me toward the bathroom.
I stand in the middle of the room, not entirely sure what to do. Are we going to have sex? Or am I supposed to go home? I know he said he wants to be with me again, but that could have been said in the heat of the moment.
Before my mind can start spinning out of control though, he returns and hands me a new toothbrush. I stare at it for a second, not comprehending.
“Go brush your teeth, babe, and then get ready for bed. I’m tired and we both have to work tomorrow morning.”
I smile at him, relieved he’s not kicking me out tonight. I love spending time with him and was looking forward to staying the night. “Thanks.”
I move around him toward the bathroom when I’m stopped with an arm around my stomach and him pressed against me.
“Thank you for an amazing day. And thank you for opening up. I’m aware of the gift I was given today, and know this, I’ll treasure it for the rest of my life. You’re safe here, with me, whenever you need it.” He kisses my neck before he slaps me playfully on the ass. “Now go get ready, I’m knackered.”
I laugh at his use of British slang. It sounds weird hearing it in an American accent, let me tell you. Still smiling to myself, I move to the bathroom and take care of business.
I walk back into the bedroom, still feeling nervous but for a different reason now. It’s been a while since I shared a bed with anyone, and the last time didn’t turn out all that great. Duncan doesn’t seem to have the same issue; he’s stripped off his shirt and stands barefoot next to the bed, dropping his watch and phone onto the nightstand.
I don’t fail to notice he picked the side closer to the door, and I wonder if this is his preferred side or if he did it because of me spending the night. The thought that he might have picked that side in case someone burst into the door in the middle of the night makes the butterflies in my belly go crazy.
I can’t believe I ever compared him to other men; he’d never intentionally hurt me. And I’m slowly realizing this—coming to terms with my first impression being wrong.
I slowly move toward the opposite side of the bed, one measured step in front of the other. And even though I’m slowly accepting him being interested in me, it still feels weird to be here. Like this is a dream, my very own fairy tale, and any minute I’ll wake up, banished back to my hell. I know I’m not worthy of this, of him, but I can’t help but take what he has to offer. Savor it as long as possible.
Duncan on the other hand, doesn’t seem to be bothered by me being here at all. Seemingly without a care, he passes me to go to the bathroom, not noticing—or ignoring—the tension I can feel radiating off my body.
Once the door closes behind him, I quickly get into bed. I’m still trying to find a comfortable position when Duncan walks back into the room. I watch him move across the room in front of the bed to the other side and slip under the covers next to me. He turns off the light and without hesitation pulls my stiff body into his. And as soon as I make contact with his warm skin, my body relaxes. While his warmth starts seeping into me, my mind quiets and I forget all my emotional baggage and remember how he makes me feel.
Safe. I remember I’m safe with him.
With my head on his chest, I smile. A feeling of contentment swells inside of me, something I haven’t felt in years.
“Thank you,” I whisper into the night. The darkness, my dear friend, surrounding us gives me the courage to finally be honest. “Today has been amazing, the best day I’ve had in years.”
“You’re welcome, babe.”
“You know, my family would have adored you. My brother especially.” He brings both arms around me and tightens his grip, pulling me closer to him. But he doesn’t speak, instinctively knowing I need the darkness and quiet. “You know my mom was a teacher and my dad owned a construction company. But my brother, he was a teacher, too. My poor dad, being surrounded by teachers.” I smile into his chest at the memory of my dad making fun of this.
“I loved them all, but Oliver and I, we were close. We shared a lot, not just a Netflix account. He wasn’t just my big brother; he was my hero. He had this uncanny ability to know exactly when I was being mistreated. He used to beat up the older kids bullying me in school. Got in trouble quite a bit for it, too.
“He was the reason why I ultimately became a teacher. I changed my mind for a while in high school, but seeing him teach and how much passion he had for it, made me want to do the same. Kind of silly, I know, but I always wanted to be just like him, strong and confident. And he never treated me like the annoying little kid sister—I was six years younger—but let me tag along with him and his friends to the park.”
“He sounds awesome.”
“He was. You remind me of him quite a bit. Strong, silent, protector types. He was always the one breaking up fights or standing in front of a victim of bullying. He also had this weird ability to make me feel safe. Just like you. If I needed
someone, he was the first person I’d call or run to, so fucking sure he could solve all my problems with ease. He was my brother, so he was infallible, right?” Silent tears streak down my face, but I’m too far gone in the memories to care.
“And he was, you know. Always solving my problems, even when I didn’t want him to, even when I thought I didn’t have problems to be solved.”
I’m so absorbed in my memories I don’t even notice when I’m rolled to my back with Duncan looming over me. His hand softly wiping away my tears is what brings me back to the present and I look into his eyes, seeing nothing but concern. “I still can’t believe he’s gone, he was my best friend and he just… he left.”
“Alex.” His voice is soft and quiet, soothing. “I’m sure he never wanted to leave you, none of your family did. But accidents happen.”
Snapping out of my mood, I remember where I am and what I’m doing. “You’re right, accidents happen. And I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to cry all over you.” I’m trying to get myself under control again, drying the tears, and pretending nothing happened.
“Don’t be sorry. I told you I’m here for you. And I’m glad you finally talked to me. Your brother sounds like a great guy. I’m glad he was there for you when you needed him.”
I ignore the hurt he’s unaware he inflicted, it’s not like he can know that’s what killed him in the end. And he’s right, my brother was an amazing guy—the best. Maybe it’s time to stop ignoring the memories and start remembering the good times, the laughter, the shenanigans, the love.
“And, you just told me I make you feel safe, which means I’m in there, babe.” The smile he sends me is downright predatory. Yet, he doesn’t lean in to kiss me, but instead he repositions us so that we’re on our sides, his front to my back, while his arm pulls me closer to him.
“Go to sleep, gorgeous. We both have an early start tomorrow.” He gently kisses my neck before he seemingly settles in to go to sleep.
“But…” I whisper, not sure what to think that he just wants to go to sleep. Is he just tired or did I do something to turn him off?
“Stop thinking, babe, and go to sleep. I’m not the jerk I first came across as. We’re tired and you just opened up to me about your family, your past. You need to let that settle. Now, sleep.”
And shortly after that, with my anxieties settled, I fall into a deep, dreamless sleep.
No nightmares.
No haunting past invading my night.
Nothing but peace.
I really wish it could have stayed this way, but life doesn’t work like that. Shit always hits the fan, I just wish I’d have gotten more of a reprieve to enjoy my time with Duncan before it all shattered.
Chapter Seventeen
The following week was pure bliss. I was happier than I’ve ever been in my life. For the first time in four months it doesn’t feel like I’m falling through a pit of darkness into my personal hell every time I see something that reminds me of my family. I can finally breathe somewhat easy.
I woke up on Monday in Duncan’s bed after a night of the most restful sleep I’ve gotten in a while. We showered and grabbed some coffee before he drove me to my place so I could to change and get ready for work.
I tried to drive myself to work, but he wouldn’t have it. Instead, he sat on my couch and watched the news while he waited for me.
Even though I wanted to dress up more than usual for work, I didn’t. Mainly because he’s already seen me at my worst and has proven he can take it. And while I’ll definitely not stop taking care of myself, I’m not going out of my way to pretend to be something I’m not. That only ever blows up in your face.
The drive to work was quiet, both of us preoccupied with our own thoughts. It wasn’t an uncomfortable silence, but one where you’re secure enough with the person you’re spending time with to not feel the need to fill it with incessant chatter about nothing. Plus, my thoughts were consumed with the last three days. I can’t believe how much happened in the span of a weekend. I went from actively avoiding the man, to having him hold my hair back while I puked, went on the most amazing and thoughtful date ever, and had the best sex of my life. My head is spinning from all that happened.
And surprisingly, I was content and confident in whatever it was we were building here. Something I never thought I’d feel again, at least not when it comes to a relationship.
The rest of the day and week continued in the same manner. Duncan was attentive, sweet, kind, funny but not overbearing. He gave me space when I needed it and pushed me when I tended to go into my head too much. During the days at work, he’d find little ways to make his presence known. Like when I came back from my lunch break to find a pack of Skittles—my favorite—on my desk with a note promising me I’ll be seeing all the colors of the rainbow later while he caressed me with his tongue. I couldn’t help the giggle escaping me or the blush spreading across my cheeks. (And he did make me see a rainbow later that night, more than once throughout the week in fact.)
We spent each night together over the last week. He told me stories of his childhood, about growing up in Pennsylvania. And the shenanigans he and Brendan would get up to as kids. The summers they spent in Rehoboth Beach or Cape May and the winters spent in the Poconos.
And I told him more stories about my family, how my brother used to tease me and how we would drive my parents nuts. How we’d spend our summers on the beach in Italy or Spain, and our winters in the Alps. Most importantly, how we loved each other fiercely.
And we shared our dreams and goals in life. How he’s thinking of going back to school to get his Ph.D. How he wants to travel and see the world, and I fantasized about traveling the world with him.
It was a week of laughter, stolen kisses in hallways, and happiness given to me by this amazing man by just being himself and accepting me. The real me, including the broken pieces of my soul taped together by duct tape, the shattered parts of my heart held together by cartoon Band-Aids, giving the illusion of happiness.
***
On Saturday, a week after the most amazing weekend of my life, we’re on our way to my apartment so I can grab a change of clothes for the weekend. We walk into my building holding hands on our way to meet Emma and Brendan, not knowing what’s headed our way. Outside the sun is shining, promising a beautiful fall day; I wish I would have known what awaited me inside.
“How much time do we have before we have to be at the restaurant?” I ask while I open the heavy front door.
He glances at his watch while we walk to the elevator. “About half an hour.”
“Gotcha.”
As soon as I step into the elevator, I’m turned around and pressed against the wall. Duncan’s lips press against mine in a sensual kiss that leaves me breathless.
“What was that for?” I pant out of breath.
“Just because… and you look sexy today. Those shorts are making me forget my own name. It’s nearly impossible not imagining you bent over the nearest surface.”
The snort that escapes me is rather unladylike. “You’re incorrigible.”
The elevator dings, letting us know we’ve arrived on my floor. Stepping out, we walk leisurely down the hallway. I’m not really paying attention to where we’re going. It’s not like you can miss the only red door, and I’m too preoccupied watching the sexy man next to me. Therefore, I’m confused when he comes to a sudden stop a few feet from the door. It’s like he walked into an invisible wall, appearing just as stunned and confused.
When I look at my door, I freeze. The tendrils of panic are starting to grab ahold of me, but I push them back. It can’t be him.
“Please tell me you sent me those?” I beg, hoping it’s not what I’m thinking.
“No, I didn’t. They’re beautiful white roses though. Who are they from?” he asks me, not noticing my panic slowly rise.
My desperation is replaced by absolute terror. Fear the like of which I thought I left in the past is coursing through my body, paralyzing me.
I’m frozen, unable to do anything but stare at the vase in front of my door. For some, it’s a nice bouquet of white roses, for me it’s my past invading, bringing back the nightmare I have been living for years but thought I escaped. I don’t need to see a note to know who they’re from. If Duncan didn’t send them, there is only one person left.
“Alex, are you okay?” I can hear Duncan’s voice fill with concern.
I wish I could tell him just how not okay I am. But he’d look at me differently; he’s going to leave. Which might be a good thing, it would certainly keep him safe. I should have known better than to think he wouldn’t find me. I should have kept my distance, not entangle others in my shit. And yet, I can’t do anything but stare at the vision in front of me, images assaulting me. One after another they’re flitting in front of my eyes. Too fast for any of them to stand out, but I know what they are. Two and a half years of my own personal hell ending with a car at the bottom of a ravine with everyone I had left dead inside.
This is a reminder why I don’t do attachments anymore.
The reason is staring right at me—mocking me for thinking I could start over without my past finding me and destroying it.
Destroying me.
But this time I won’t let anyone else get hurt. I won’t hide behind others and let them be the ones to pay the ultimate price for my stupidity.
I’m determined to not drag the people I’ve come to care about here into my mess. Starting now.
I clear my throat and try to pull my strength around me. It’s not easy when all I want to do is fall into Duncan’s arms and let him be the one to hold me up.
I can’t look at him, I won’t be able to do what needs to be done next if I do.
“You should go,” I say, taking a step forward. I’m so focused on not falling to the ground from the fear, heartache, and grief using my body as a battlefield I miss the way my voice completely gives away what I’m feeling.