by Lori L. Otto
She can’t go, too. I don’t deserve her, but she can’t go. Already I’m not sure I can forgive myself. If she dies, too... it was too painful to even think about.
It’s still too painful to think about, a year later. For three days, Chris’s family held vigil at the hospital until she came out of the coma. It felt awkward for me to be there, I really had no place there, but I stopped by every night to check in. I would relieve Chris in the middle of the night, that was my excuse for being there... but it was always for her. And on the way home from each visit, I went to a nearby church and prayed. I hadn’t been to church in years, but I felt so responsible. I wasn’t thinking rationally at the time. I was confused by what I felt for her that night, wondering why she had come back into my life as she did... wondering why she had the effect on me that she had.
After a few months, I finally accepted that I didn’t cause the accident, but I still felt bad for thinking what I had thought. The guilt nagged me for months until I was finally able to tell Emi. I had thought all along, if she forgave me, then I knew I would be forgiven. And she had. Thankfully, she had.
I pull her body closer to mine, gently, not wanting to wake her. It had been a long night. A clap of thunder makes her jump, brings her out of her peaceful slumber.
“It’s okay,” I tell her, laughing. She looks up at me, her eyes tired, swollen.
“It’s raining?” she asks, putting her arm across my chest and cuddling closer.
“Yes,” I whisper. “Go back to sleep.” I run my fingers down her bare back, her skin soft and warm to the touch.
“I’m awake,” she announces, then yawns. I give her a few minutes to decide whether or not she really wants to get up. I feel her eyelashes repeatedly flutter, tickling my chest.
“How are you?” I ask, tucking her hair behind her ear.
“Slight headache,” she says.
“I’ll go get some aspirin,” I offer.
“No, you stay here,” she says, stretching her legs to get out of bed. “Where are they?”
“Medicine cabinet in the bathroom.” She climbs out from under the covers, modestly covering her breasts with her arms. She smiles at me and blushes. She’s wearing a pair of my flannel pants, tied as tightly as the drawstring will go around her waist, but still sagging off of her small frame. About a foot too long, the ends of the pants completely cover her feet. She is so beautiful... but still so fragile...
While she is in the bathroom, I go downstairs to get some water and heat up some chai tea for a latte. She slides into the kitchen, taking a seat on one of the barstools at the island, as I begin to pour the tea and milk into mugs. Out of all the t-shirts in my closet, she has managed to put on my most comfortable one, obscuring her feminine figure from me. I put one of the mugs of latte in front of her with a bottle of water next to it. She takes the aspirin and thanks me, looking at me apologetically.
“Don’t look at me like that,” I tell her with a laugh.
“Well, when you invited me here, I hadn’t planned on spending half of the night crying in your bed... I had other plans...”
“I know you did,” I smile. “Emi, I will give you whatever you need. You know that.”
“I know. And I guess I just needed to be comforted,” she says. “I didn’t want the day to affect me like it did.”
I had wanted to make love to her last night, had planned to, if that’s what she wanted... and she did want to... but her tears made me feel like I was taking something that wasn’t mine to have.
I knew I had made the right decision when she whispered his name as I held her in my arms. She was crying in her sleep. Her mind had been on him all day, but it still bothers me more than I should let it, I know. Maybe she still has nightmares about him, or dreams. We’d only slept together a handful of times, and it had never happened before. I was thinking about bringing it up, but in the end, I decide against it. I mean, of course her mind was on him.
When it comes right down to it, I know that she loves me. She says she does, and I don’t doubt her... but it was always her concern of whether or not she could love me enough. I think she can. I think she does.
“So how do you feel this morning?” I ask her, testing the waters.
“I think I got closure,” she says to me. “Whether I needed it or wanted it or not.”
“Good,” I tell her, happy with her answer and hoping it means she’s just one step closer to moving on with her life, with me.
“I feel free,” she says. “I haven’t felt like this in ages.” She motions for me to come over to her. I go around the island and stand near her, but she pulls me closer by the drawstring on my pants, then ties the ends into a bow. I lean in to kiss her, and just as the electric feeling pulses through my veins, another loud clap of thunder makes her jump again, and the electricity goes out in the house.
“This is strange weather,” she says.
“Yes, it is. And it gets pretty cold in here pretty quickly... hope it doesn’t stay off for too long.”
“I don’t mind,” she tells me, her eyes flirting with me.
“I don’t think you know what you’re saying,” I explain. “Really cold...”
She climbs onto her knees on the barstool to meet my height and puts her arms around me, kissing me. I pick her up, her legs wrapped around me, and take her back upstairs. Her lips never leave mine until I lay her down on the bed. I draw away from her when she tries to pull me down onto the bed with her.
“I’m serious, I can’t keep you that warm.” I walk to the fireplace that I haven’t used in years and start a fire with some wood I had picked up a few days ago, anticipating its use, though more for ambiance than necessity.
“Nice,” Emi says, smiling. When I reach the foot of the bed, I crawl onto it, feeling her feet, legs, hips, stomach on the way up to kiss her. “I love you,” she says quietly, her pale green eyes cutting through me.
“I love you, too,” I tell her, gently lowering my body onto hers. My lips travel from hers to her cheek to her jaw, settling on her ear. She holds the waistband of my pants tightly, her cold hands creating a numbing sensation with every touch. I put my hand up her shirt, feeling her breasts. I quickly roll over, bringing her body on top of me. Her legs immediately slide over mine.
“That’s my favorite shirt,” I tell her, tugging at it. “I want it back.” She laughs and happily helps me to take my t-shirt off of her. The light coming through the patio door allows me a glimpse of her beautiful form. I inhale deeply to take it all in, admiring her with my eyes, letting my fingers find pleasure in her milky skin. I sit up to kiss her, her legs now wrapping around my back.
Her fingernails graze my shoulders lightly, then travel down my back, lower, lower, until her hands find their way below the waistline of my pants. I follow her lead and do the same. Soft, round... how I have longed to hold her like this. I move my arms to support her back as I pick her up and move her onto the pillows. I help to pull the blankets over us to keep us warm, just in case. She slowly, timidly, begins to lower my pants. She kisses me deeply, then allows me to pull away to kiss her neck, breasts, stomach, until I reach the drawstring that is failing at keeping her dressed. I untie it slowly, then pull the pants down deliberately, kissing areas of her along the way, areas of her body that I had newly discovered but were still not quite familiar to me. I explore slowly, learning every freckle, every scar, every imperfection that would never take away from her perfection. I touch her first, a quiet wisp of air escaping from her lips, either from surprise or from the cool touch of my fingers. My lips follow, her arousal obvious. The pace of her breathing quickens, her hands play with my hair until she closes them around my ears, angling my face to see her.
“Will you make love to me?” she requests with a desperate whisper. My lips, tongue, make their way back up her body, lingering on her breasts, but eventually finding her lips again as our bodies gently, easily connect. She gasps quietly as she wraps her limbs around me, my arms supporting our weight un
der her shoulders, my hands caressing her face. I watch her as she stares back at me. I kiss her, my heart racing at her eager gaze, pushing tenderly, steadily, unhurriedly, wishing this could last forever.
I want to remember this moment for all of time, need to memorize every aspect so that I can carry this feeling with me always. I feel the chill in the air on my ears, but underneath the blankets is the most comforting warmth that has ever surrounded me. The smell of freshly-washed linens mixes with the lingering scent of the lotion she had applied sometime last night, the same lotion that was causing her skin to feel like silk under my fingertips. Her soft, fine hair is messily spread out over the white pillow, the sunlight coming through the glass door highlighting the ends of it, making it appear a dark pink. Her smile, one corner of her lip higher than the other, her secrets revealed to me, one by one. And her eyes... the most mesmerizing eyes, full of love... love for me. I couldn’t be a luckier man.
I’ve never shared a more intimate moment with anyone. Looking into those eyes, trusting, loving, confident, I don’t ever want to tear my gaze away.
“I love you, Emi,” I tell her again, overwhelmed. Her stare never leaving mine, she reaffirms the same. “Is this okay?”
She doesn’t answer with words, her warm smile and gentle eyes telling me everything I need to know. I kiss her neck, feeling her soaring heart rate with my lips, listening to her deep breathing in my ear, in unison with mine. Her legs tighten around me as I pick her up into a seated position in my lap, forcing a deeper connection between us.
“Oh,” she sighs heavily. My eyes carefully study her, her eyelids hooded over her pale green eyes. As I feel the current begin to build, her lips find mine, ravish me as her excitement grows. Her arms wrap around my back, pressing our bodies together. I caress her at the base of her neck, feeling her soft hair between my fingers as we kiss. Her eyes close as our movements quicken, still gentle and in sync. She whispers my name, repeatedly, the sound of her voice music to my ears, all of my senses heightened in these rapturous moments of passion.
“Emi,” I moan, my muscles constricting before the final release alleviates all the tension, my body joining in the same blissful state that my mind has been in since our first kiss. I continue to kiss her, softly, as her breathing slows gradually, her legs loosening their grip on me only slightly. I touch her cheeks softly, and as she opens her eyes to look at me, a lone tear escapes from one of them.
“Happy tear,” she whispers, sensing my concern and easing my fear. I kiss the tear away from her cheek, pressing my lips gently against her soft skin.
“I love you,” I tell her so quietly I’m not sure she even hears it. Her quick smile notifies me that she did. Her hand touches my chin as another tear falls onto her blushing cheek. I catch this one with my thumb, watching her eyes in hopes that more will not come.
She had shed so many tears last night. Tears of sorrow, of guilt, punishment and need. The doubts Chris had put into her head earlier in the day stayed with her, festered in her, boiled over as the hour approached midnight. She remembered the accident while she was alone in my room. She wanted to forget the memories of that night and of all the horrible nights that followed her throughout the past year of her life.
As much as I wanted to help her forget– and as much as I knew I was able to– I couldn’t. Last night wasn’t about me. It wasn’t about Nate, either. It was just about Emi. It was about her and her need not to escape the past, but to embrace the wonderful future we were going to have together. I had to convince her that it was okay to hold on to those elements of her past... that they were a part of her as much as her green eyes and strawberry-blonde hair. They were welcome into what we have. There was room for it all. My capacity to love her was limitless. I would love her and everything about her... eyes, hair... past included. I fell in love with those things... if not at first sight, then they were things that made me grow to love her more.
She had apologized to me, not once, but many times over the course of our night together. The last thing I wanted her to feel was sorry for being completely open and honest with me.
“Never be sorry for who you are,” I had assured her. “I knew the risks I was taking when I began to pursue you last year, Emi. I knew that there was a chance you would never be able to love someone again, or so soon... much less me.”
“I do,” she had whispered earnestly.
“I know,” I had responded with a quiet laugh. “That’s why there is no need to apologize. You’re here, with me. This is so much more than I could ever have hoped.”
“But this night was supposed to be about me and you,” she argued.
“It is. It has been. This has been a gift to me. You have bared your soul and shared with me thoughts and experiences that you could have kept locked in that pretty head of yours forever. We have our whole lives ahead of us Emi.”
“But I don’t want to waste a moment.”
“You’re not,” I told her. “We aren’t.”
Our kisses were chaste, our touches warm and comforting, and eventually the sounds of her quiet breathing lulled me to sleep. It was an emotional night, but one that could only stand to bring us closer together.
Of course, nothing can compare to the closeness I feel to her now. Her light perspiration mixing with my own; our breaths still inhaling, exhaling in unison; the taste of her still on my lips, her smile mirroring mine. I cradle her head in my hands and kiss her once more, an assurance of my devotion to her, my mind still enjoying its euphoria. I lay her back down against the pillows, our bodies still entwined.
“I’ve never felt so safe... or so loved. That was...” Her quiet voice stirs me back into reality. She looks stunned as she searches for a word. “Beautiful?” she asks with a laugh. “I can’t think of a better word... that sounds stupid.”
“No,” I assure her, disbelieving that I could be this fortunate to be with a woman like her. “It was perfect.”
I move onto the bed next to her, continuing to kiss her as we listen to the rain fall and the fire crackle. Exhausted, I wrap the blanket tightly around us and pull her into my body, her head resting on my chest. I play with her hair and after she falls asleep, I close my eyes to do the same.
“Jack?” she whispers, waking me up. The sun has finally decided to come out, the brightness creating a halo affect around her head. My angel.
“Hey,” I respond, reaching out to her. I pull her face to mine to kiss her. Her hair is wet, but she’s fully dressed in tan corduroy pants and a white sweater. “How long was I asleep?”
“Two hours,” she says. “And look, the electricity is back on.”
“You should have woken me up,” I tell her, sitting up abruptly.
“I did,” she smiles.
“Earlier,” I roll my eyes.
“No, you were so peaceful. And you were smiling. It was cute... to just watch you.”
“Great,” I tell her.
“I think I’m going to head home,” she tells me.
“Wait, what?”
“Yeah, I told Jen I would have lunch with her and Clara today. I’ll just get a cab.”
“Absolutely not,” I argue. “Give me ten minutes. I’ll take you home. And you should dry your hair, you’ll catch pneumonia.”
“I couldn’t find your hair dryer,” she frowns.
I jump out of bed and go to the bathroom, getting the dryer out from the back of the cabinet.
“Okay, thanks,” she smiles, taking it and plugging it in near the mirror.
I don’t want her to go. I could stay in bed all day with her. I was hoping for that. I shower quickly and put on a pair of jeans and a black button-down shirt, leaving it untucked.
“Are you sure you have to go?” I ask when I find her in the kitchen after my shower. I hope she’s okay, and not having any regrets.
“Yeah, I promised her we could all go,” she says. “Honestly, though, I wish I hadn’t. I don’t want to leave you. In fact, I’d love it if you just came over to ha
ng out with us.”
“I don’t want to infringe on girl-time,” I offer.
“You wouldn’t be. I promise.”
“Then perfect. I’d love to go.” We kiss again. I can’t stop smiling, remembering our morning together. She seems to be happy, too, her sustained smile gleaming at me every time she looks at me. If Nate was still on her mind last night, he certainly doesn’t seem to be anywhere in her periphery now.
Emi walks confidently into the lobby of her building, holding my hand. I watch her as she smiles at Marcus. Her cheeks turn a pale shade of pink. God. It’s the same mischievous smile she wore in the hotel hallway last year. This time, I know the secrets behind the smile. I nod at her doorman as I walk past.
In the elevator, I put my fingers through the side belt loops in her pants and pull her toward me. She smiles up at me, sighing. “Maybe we should have ditched Jen and stayed at your place today.”
“We can always go back tonight.” She raises her eyebrows as we exit the elevator on her floor. She unlocks the door, but can’t open it.
“Jen?” Emi calls through the crack in the doorway, the chain keeping the door from opening any further.
“Coming!” she calls.
“Are you decent?” Emi asks. “Jack’s here.”
“Of course,” her sister says, removing the chain and opening the door. “Hi, Jack.”
“Jen,” I greet her, smiling. “I hope I’m not intruding.”
“Not at all. You’re always welcome.”
“Thank you,” I smile.
“Why was the chain locked?” Emi asks.
“That’s my doing,” Brian says as he stands up, startling us both. “A little overprotective, I guess.” He extends his hand to shake mine, then settles back on the couch, watching a football game.
“I guess you can’t be too careful,” I tell him.
“How was the rest of your New Year?” Emi asks her sister.