by Nancy Madore
With each little advance that she achieved in her relationship with Joe, Sandra always felt gratitude and joy, but these sentiments eventually faded into the same strange longing she felt on the first night she met him. It took several months after Joe moved in, but ultimately Sandra once again found herself wondering where she stood with Joe, why they never made plans for the future, and what exactly had happened with Elaine.
One night she cautiously broached the subject with him as they sat side by side, amicably watching television together on the couch. She took the practical approach.
“What is happening with your house?” she asked him casually.
Joe looked at her in surprise, but then gave her one of his playful smiles. “Are you tired of me already?” he teased.
“No!” She tried to match his teasing tone. “I was just wondering. Jeez! You’d think you were in the witness protection program or something.”
He laughed. “Come on now. It hasn’t been as bad as that.” She realized suddenly that Joe had mellowed dramatically in the three or four months that he had been living with her. He was considerably less defensive and much more cheerful.
“Hasn’t it, Joe?” she continued, but still in the same teasing tone. “Is Joe even your real name?” They were both laughing now. But behind her humor she was determined. “Are you?” she asked him, and to his questioning look she elaborated, “In the witness protection program?”
“Come on, Sandra,” he said, still amused but now withdrawing from her a little.
“And yet,” she continued, “for some reason you can’t talk about your past life.”
“What do you want to know about it?” he asked. His tone was agreeable, but he was still steadily withdrawing. Sandra knew that it was only a matter of time before he closed up completely. It caused her to become rash.
“Why is Elaine living in your house?” she asked him point-blank.
“Because it’s her house, too,” he replied. “We bought it together and both our names are on the mortgage and the deed.”
“Do you still make mortgage payments?” she wondered.
“Yep.”
“Oh.” This stumped her for a moment. “So how long were you with her?”
“Six years.”
“You never got married?”
“Nope.”
“Why not?”
“She didn’t want to.”
Sandra could feel that she was running out of time and that at any moment Joe would tire of her questions, but ironically, now that he was submitting to her inquiries, she couldn’t think of what it was she most wanted to ask.
“Why did you two break up?” she ventured.
But her time was up. Joe had remained sitting next to her on the couch throughout this brief discussion, and suddenly he got up. Sandra impulsively grabbed his arm. “Look, Sandra,” he said. “That is all water under the bridge.”
“Then what can it hurt to tell me about it?” she asked him.
“Why do you want to know about it?”
Sandra sighed. It was just like him to turn this around on her.
“Because I do.”
“This is about you being insecure,” he said.
“No,” she disagreed. “This is about me wanting to know more about the man I’m living with.”
“I don’t ask you all kinds of questions about your past,” he reminded her.
“Yeah, I noticed that, Joe,” she said sarcastically, succumbing to another sore spot for her. “And why is that?”
“Because it has nothing to do with us,” he told her.
“And what about our future, Joe?” she asked him. “Huh? That’s another thing you can’t talk about. Does that have nothing to do with us either?”
“Why can’t we just take this one day at a time?” he wondered. “Why do I have to go through the third degree about things I don’t even have any control over?” He looked at Sandra pleadingly. “I had very little say in what happened in my past as it turned out, and I have no idea what’s going to happen in the future. I don’t have a crystal ball.”
“That’s just an excuse!” she said, giving in to her anger. “Men know when they want to spend their life with a woman.”
Joe was silent.
“If you can’t bring yourself to talk about the future you could at least give me some idea of what happened in the past. Give me something!”
“It. Has. Nothing. To. Do. With. You!” he yelled, pausing significantly between each and every word for added emphasis. Then he turned and walked away from Sandra, retreating to the bedroom.
Against her better judgment Sandra followed him. She felt the urge to cry but the tears wouldn’t come. She realized then that she was crying already, and she had been for a long time, on the inside. She wondered what she should say. How did a person get in? Why didn’t Cosmo ever give advice for moments like these?
“If you cared about me at all you would communicate with me about yourself,” she said. This sounded desperate, even to her ears, but she couldn’t seem to stop herself now, and so she continued in the same vein. “I’m not asking you for a kidney here. I hardly ever ask you for anything, as a matter of fact.”
“Let’s not do this now,” he said in a tired tone, continuing his retreat from her. He began to undress for bed.
“When then?” she asked in a shrill voice. “When would be a good time to bring this up, Joe, because I seem to be hitting all the bad times? Can I make an appointment for a better time so I’ll know when that is?”
Joe moved around the room as he changed, still trying to get away from Sandra. His attempts to evade her enraged her even more, and before she knew it she had followed him into the bathroom. She stared at him, determined to force some kind of response out of him. He pretended not to see her. When he finished in the bathroom, he returned to the bedroom and pulled down the covers of the bed. But when he reached for the remote, Sandra, who had been trailing him and watching his every move, snatched it up before he could get his hands on it. Now Joe was forced to deal with her. She smiled in bitter satisfaction when he turned tiredly to face her. He seemed incapable of finding the right words and merely sighed as he looked at her.
“Are you still in love with her?” she asked him miserably. When he only just kept stubbornly staring at her she continued, with every word adding fuel to her anger and egging her on, so that she kept going on and on for much longer than she intended. “Is that it, Joe? Is that why you can’t talk about her? Is it so painful that you can’t even stand to hear the mention of her name? Because if you were really over her you would be able to talk about it. And what am I supposed to do in the meantime?” As she continued to talk, it began to seem as if she was really talking to herself, letting off steam and in the process drawing conclusions that were the culminations of all of her fears. “I suppose I’m expected to just sit here in limbo while you pine away after her. I’m probably just the rebound. I’m just supposed to fix all the problems, right? Even if you do get over Elaine it will be the next woman you meet who gets a shot at your heart.” As she voiced these fears she waited for him to contradict her. She desperately wanted him to convince her that all her conclusions were wrong.
“You’re pathetic,” he murmured, turning his back on her. But she caught the hint of a self-satisfied smile curving his lips just as he was turning away from her and in the next instant she saw red. The sight of that smug little smirk on Joe’s handsome features unleashed all the fury that had been building up in her throughout their relationship, a fury that came out of months of hard work performed on credit—credit extended on the flimsiest promises of payment, it’s true—but even so it was extremely disappointing to discover that payment would not be forthcoming. And even worse was the realization that she had only herself to blame for granting the credit in the first place. Sandra was livid.
Joe slipped into bed as if nothing was amiss, just as Sandra suddenly flew at him, snatching the covers from his grasp and hurling them off the
bed and onto the floor. Then, before Joe had time to register what was happening, she yanked the pillow from under his head and began to pummel him with it, not in the least seeing the absurdity of the situation as she did so, and only vaguely aware that if she had grabbed anything more solid than the pillow she might have actually bludgeoned him to death. Joe, on the other hand, was suddenly struck by the hilarity of the situation and he burst out in loud laughter, trying to dodge her blows during the first debilitating round of hilarity, but then grasping her arms with the pillow still in her hands and flipping her onto the bed on her back in one smooth maneuver. He quickly and easily positioned himself over her so that she was completely immobilized beneath him. She fought with all her might but her efforts brought almost no effect. His physical strength gradually subdued her. He was still laughing as he effortlessly plucked the pillow from her fingers like he was dealing with nothing more formidable than an amusing child.
Much of Sandra’s steam had left her by this time, and the actual source of her anger—which was her fear and pain—now surfaced. Large tears formed in her eyes as she stared up at Joe in stunned surprise. When Joe saw the tears his smile faded.
“Hey there,” he said softly, dropping the pillow and taking her face in his hands. “What’s this?”
To her horror she started to cry in earnest. Her sobs sounded contrived to her ears and she hated herself even as she reveled in the comfort Joe was offering. He kissed her lips and cheeks and eyelids as he gently shushed her. As always, she acquiesced, pushing her hurt aside and recklessly grasping the gratification of the moment instead of following through with what she had started. She suddenly felt too tired to care where their relationship was heading. It suddenly seemed inopportune to worry about tomorrow when today held such pleasure. Without even realizing it, she was earnestly kissing Joe back. And why not? she asked herself. Why not just focus on how much she loved him?
And then it was like their first time together all over again, with Joe tearing at Sandra’s clothing in a sudden frenzy to have her. Both gave in completely to the heady feeling of succumbing to an exquisite pleasure in spite of the pitfalls surrounding it. The pleasure was made all the more intense by the pitfalls in fact. Neither thought about, or even fully realized this. Sandra didn’t consider that she was simply relieved to have been temporarily distracted from the terrible pain and worry that Joe didn’t love her, any more than Joe was aware that much of his pleasure was derived from the simple fact that he had subdued her for the moment.
What Joe couldn’t seem to say in words he had no difficulty expressing through his lovemaking. He went far beyond his ordinary efforts to give Sandra pleasure in every way that he could think of. He knew that she loved to be touched and so he put his warm hands all over her, taking his time and, for the moment, getting more satisfaction from the pleasure he was giving her than what he was feeling himself.
Sandra let herself believe that Joe’s attentions during their lovemaking proved that he valued her, and she would not allow her mind to wander into the more pragmatic passages that questioned the validity of any real value to be gleaned from this kind of intimacy with a man. For now, she decided to steer clear of all forms of reasoning that required more evidence than her feelings in that moment, which in and of themselves created a very compelling argument indeed.
To her astonishment Joe suddenly confirmed those feelings, whispering dreamily as he gazed down at her, “I love you.”
Sandra’s heart overflowed when she heard Joe’s words, and the benevolence she felt for him in that instant surpassed everything else, even her previous anger. She couldn’t even respond, she was so utterly overwhelmed.
Joe became even more affectionate with Sandra after his declaration, as if to give it emphasis. He slipped his arms all the way around her, spreading his hands over her skin and holding her very close to him in the most intimate manner while he gradually and leisurely worked his way into her body. She was soft and pliant beneath him, almost melding into him as she accepted him into her. His arms tightened around her even more when he felt her liquid softness as he penetrated her, lifting her up off the bed in an embrace so encompassing that virtually every part of her flesh was touching his. He continued to hold her in this way as he slowly moved himself in and out of her, cradling her in his arms while lightly rocking her with the gentle force of his thrusts. She turned her face toward his and he dipped his tongue in between her lips, devouring her mouth hungrily. She clung to him feverishly as he gently ravished her, trembling and murmuring incoherently that she loved him, too. Joe shushed her gently, whispering tenderly and repeatedly, “I know, sweetheart…I know.” His words, combined with the heartfelt kindness with which they were spoken, seemed to pick Sandra up and transport her into a tempestuous sea that thrashed her about amid violent waves of euphoria, contentment and disbelief; all washing over her and threatening to pull her down into the dark, murky depths. But Joe kept bringing her back up to the surface, cradling her in a warm, comforting shield of well-being.
Joe’s movements as he made love to Sandra became so restrained as to be nearly imperceptible. He drew himself out of her slowly—so slowly and stealthily that it was almost as if he wasn’t moving at all—and then in the same unhurried manner he gradually inched his way back into her again. He, too, was genuinely affected by the unexpected intimacy of the moment. His senses were heightened by his awareness of it, and his deliberate movements were designed to enchance and extend it. Neither wanted the moment to end.
With this in mind, Joe continued to stretch out every single stroke and caress to almost maddening lengths. It was as if he were experiencing a part of lovemaking that he had never experienced before. He noticed things he had not noticed before, from the arch of her back to the feel of her legs as they clung to his body. Everything seemed different and new. He observed nuances in every aspect of her being. He almost believed he could feel the very pores on her smooth skin as it brushed up against him. His heightened awareness had sharpened his senses to the point that it seemed as if he were absorbing her very essence while making love to her body.
Sandra felt it, too, and she clung to Joe helplessly, unable to do more than simply bask in the warmth of the surreal moment that enveloped them both. Somewhere in her conciousness there lingered visions of home, and comfort and children—her and Joe’s children—and happiness without limitations.
All of this was contained in that one single moment, like a dream that exists for mere seconds but seems to encompass unlimited spaces of time. Like a dream, the moment was almost over before it had fully been achieved.
Yet it was the tenderest lovemaking they had shared. The goodwill between them was palpable, and the bad feelings they had both pushed aside seemed to make it even stronger. Sandra felt so blissful that she forgot all about appearance, or performance, or even to respond. She just held on to Joe as she slowly let down her guard, allowing herself to trust him completely. And although she vaguely realized that she would not climax—she was far too preoccupied to even try—she was as content as if she had. But even so, when Joe’s thrusts came harder and thicker, indicating his own impending release, Sandra heard a distant cry within her, calling out from the depths of her very soul it seemed, and she thrilled to it even as she pushed it aside. Next time, she assured herself.
It was as if a part of her was being severed when Joe ultimately disengaged himself from Sandra and rolled away from her. She remained still and quiet, except for a slight trembling that continued to rock her. She struggled to console herself from the disproportionate amount of loss she felt. She waited for the soothing sound of his snores and was surprised when he spoke.
“I’m not in love with Elaine,” he said slowly. “I can’t say for certain that I ever was.”
Sandra was too surprised to speak. She held her breath and waited.
Joe rolled onto his side and leaned up on one elbow, looking down at her. This new intimacy overwhelmed her, and she had to bite her lip to
keep the tears at bay. His voice was almost a whisper, husky and low. They gazed into each other’s eyes as he spoke and she listened.
“I was involved with her. That’s the best way I know to describe it. Then one day I came home to find police officers with restraining orders telling me I couldn’t come back. So I left, and shortly after that another guy moved in.”
There were numerous questions running through Sandra’s mind, but she couldn’t seem to find her voice, so the two just looked at each other in silence for a few minutes.
“And in case you’re wondering, I never laid a hand on her,” he said as an afterthought.
She had been wondering about that but replied automatically, “I knew that.” And in that instant she realized that she had. Still, she found herself torn between the desires to both condemn the other woman and defend her. “But if you didn’t really love her—I mean, that still doesn’t justify what she did—but…didn’t you realize that it might end somehow?”
“At the time I couldn’t have been more surprised,” he told her, but after a moment he conceded, “I suppose now, looking back, I can see that we did have problems.”
“What were they?” she dared to venture.
“I was happy so I assumed she must be, too…” He seemed to be considering it as he spoke. He continued slowly, measuring his words as he went on. “Maybe ‘happy’ is too positive a word,” he said upon reconsideration. “It’s really more that I was content. I thought I was doing everything that needed to be done. I figured if I fucked up too badly she’d definitely let me know, because she didn’t seem to have any trouble telling me about it when things bothered her. I sure didn’t know she was so unhappy, or that she was out looking for my replacement.”