No More Heartache: The MORE Duet

by Anders, Tarrah

“Want company?” I yell after her. She giggles and disappears.

  I pull out my phone and browse the internet and my social media accounts. An incoming text from a number that I don’t recognize lights up my phone asking to meet up for drinks later comes through, and I don’t even hesitate to engage in conversation to find out who it is, I just press to delete. I sat on the couch for several minutes, with wild thoughts running through my mind.

  My main fear right now, is loss. I’ve overcome the drinking thing, well I’m still overcoming it – that will always be a work in progress. I make a mental note to call my sponsor this evening and go to a meeting perhaps. Maybe Tatum would come with me to a meeting?

  Tatum sneaks up behind me and scares the shit out of me. I think my heart may have stopped beating as I regain my breath, she’s laughing. I’m glad my almost dying can make her laugh. I stand up and round the couch. She’s breathtaking, her long hair is pulled up into a pony tail, she’s wearing some stretchy type skirt and a tank top, which is tightly fitted. I’m staring at her, no make that openly gawking at her as I take in her beauty.

  “May I?” I ask holding out my hand towards her stomach.

  “Of course.” She says as she pulls the tank top up a bit, exposing her stomach. I run my hand across her stomach and put my other arm on the small of her back.

  “I’m in awe of this, by the way.” I say as I kiss her temple and give her a small squeeze.

  She smiles as we exit the house.

  “I’ll drive.” She says stealing my keys out of my hand.

  “Hey, it’s my car, I drive.” I pretend to whine as she skips to the car. She’s so youthful, so beautiful, so perfect.

  She’s so mine.

  * * *

  We’re sitting across from another. Her foot is wedged between mine under the table and I’m smiling like a Cheshire cat.

  “We need to establish new rules.” She states chewing on a tater tot.

  “Oh really now?” I act surprised, I knew we would need to establish actual rules, pertaining to our personal involvement now, but it was worth my pretend shock to see her roll her eyes.

  “Rules currently in effect stay, in effect.” She starts.

  “Except the see through tank tops, I’m fine with you wearing them, never had a thing denying them, but I think now, you can, well you know – wear them all the time.” I smile taking a bite out of my pancake.

  “Okay, so anyways. Rule number four.”

  “Three, we just nixed number three.” I tease.

  She rolls her eyes again. She’s adorable.

  “Fine, rule three. Honesty. We have to be honest with another at all times.”

  “Deal. Rule number 4, no dating other people.” I shocked myself saying that out loud. We just hooked up again, sealing the deal and stating that we were going to try to become something more than roommates and I’m already pussy whipped and wanting her all to myself?

  “Yeah, I agree. Plus, who really wants to date someone who’s pregnant anyways.” She waves at herself.

  “I do.” Again, I shock myself. What has come over me?

  “Rule number five, sex is off the table.” She starts and I groan. “For a month.” She finishes.

  “What’s the perks of that?” I ask. I know she wants to go slow, but we just had sex this morning and it was beyond amazing, why would she want to not do it again, like this afternoon?

  “We need to keep getting to know each other, I don’t want our relationship or whatever we have to be crowded by sex. Even though that’s how it all started. Besides, I never said…” she leans closer to me and whispers, “oral.”

  I lean back fully satisfied. I can deal with that, she tasted exquisite, and I could spend an eternity down there, and I wouldn’t mind seeing her skills on me either.

  “One month, deal. How many rules do we need?” I ask.

  “One more, I think. We make time for date nights, so we can get to know each other. And I’m not just talking about watching a movie, I’m talking about talking.” She has this feral look to her right now as she talks.

  “Okay, this is easy enough. This counts as a date right?”

  “Yeah.”

  “And what about touching, kissing, hugging?” I ask nudging her foot with mine.

  “All good, unless you think they shouldn’t be?” She looks like she’s hanging on by a thread awaiting my answer.

  “No, I think they definitely are granted. Otherwise, I would be breaking that rule now as much as you broke the see through tank top rule.”

  I smile like a kid who is about to open his birthday presents as we finish our food.

  We pull back up to the house and I get out of the passenger seat and wait for her in front of her car.

  “What about PDA and hand holding?” I ask.

  “All fine.” She says as she approaches and I grab her hand and entwine my fingers with her. We walk up the few steps to the front door and then I pull her in and kiss her. Not an impressive kiss, but my tongue most definitely made it inside her mouth.

  * * *

  I woke up in a sweat. My sheets were soaked from whatever I was dreaming about. I hate it when I can’t remember my dreams, although I’m sure that’s for the best most of the time, since it’s probably better that way. It’s the middle of the night and I’m alone in my bed. Tatum and I have been taking things slow for a week and while it’s been enlightening to be in the beginning stages of dating, it’s also been pure torture since we live together.

  She’s returned to wearing her see through tank top with knowing glances when I approach her to fondle her and kiss her. But we haven’t done anything sexual, despite the addendum to rule number five being a possibility. I would consider Tatum my girlfriend now, even though we haven’t actually titled each other that out loud. I don’t know exactly where I became the stable boyfriend after being the man-whore for so long, but I can adjust.

  I remove myself from bed and stumble into my bathroom. I start the shower and quickly rinse off the layer of sweat from whatever I was dreaming about. Part of me is wanting to go back to sleep, the other part of me is wide awake. After my rinse, I opt to get some water. I don’t bother putting any pants on, but walk out of my bedroom in my towel.

  In the living room, the glow of the television is on and I see Tatum leaning, slightly sitting up on the arm of the couch. I quietly move so I can see her face and her glazed eyes are open and staring straight ahead, until I come into her line of sight. She turns her head and lazily smiles.

  “Can’t sleep?” I ask joining her on the couch.

  “I’ve been trying for a good few hours. But then I get sucked into whatever this show is and then I can’t peel myself off the couch.” She yawns and then looks at the towel around my waist.

  “I had a bad dream, I think. I needed to rinse off.” I explain.

  “No complaints here.” She says running her hand across my chest.

  “You might not want to do that Tate.” I warn her, feeling my dick harden.

  “Oh yeah?” She says leaning towards me, her lips inches away from mine, we’re sharing the same breath right now.

  “Mmmmhmmm.” I say lowering my lips to hers and spreading hers with my tongue.

  She pulls back, her hand still on my chest, tracing my nipple.

  “I think I need some water.” I say pulling back from her and getting up holding my towel together.

  She shuts off the television and follows me into the kitchen. She stands there, waiting for something, I don’t know what. I drink an entire glass of water and then turn to her. She smiles and holds out her hand to me and leads me down the hallway. We stop in front of my bedroom and she looks behind her towards her room.

  “Can I come in?” She asks.

  “Darling, you don’t need to ask, ever.” I say angling my head for her to go in.

  She jumps on the bed and immediately my thoughts turn dirty.

  “Whoa, wait. I need to change the sheets.” I explain by pointing to my
sleep sweat.

  “Is that a regular occurrence?” She asks.

  “No, don’t worry. And I also don’t wet the bed, in case you were wondering that too.” I smile. I retrieve a pair of boxers from my closet and drop my towel, well aware of her eyes on me. I then move to the hallway and grab clean sheets. I feel like I’m playing house all of a sudden. I have a slight ache of loss that I ignore and continue back to the bedroom.

  We make the bed and then I motion for her to get in.

  Tatum settles herself in my arms and her hand goes back to caressing my chest. Tatum’s breathing evens out and she’s soon fallen asleep. Her hair is fanned out along the pillow beside mine. We’re facing each other and she looks so peaceful when she sleeps. Her mouth slightly agape and the fluttering of her eyelashes as she falls deeper into sleep. While I’m wide awake. That ache has returned and suddenly I feel guilty. I’m feeling guilty for caring about Tatum, for having Tatum here in my bed, living with me and making future plans with her. I attempt to push away at this feeling, I don’t need to feel this way when everything is going so good right now.

  I take a deep breath and turn over to my back to stare at the ceiling. I’m not feeling the need to drink, but I’m feeling the need to run. And I don’t want to run from Tatum, that’s not fair to her. I need to remember our rules, the new number three rule is to be honest with another. I need to talk to her and tell her… what do I tell her? That she makes me feel guilty? That she makes me feel like I’m betraying my ex, who is dead? I need to tell her that she makes me feel again. But first, I need to tell her about Betsy.

  27

  Tatum

  I woke up in Max’s room, but I was alone. His side of the bed was cold, as if he’s been up for a while. I looked around his room and saw the alarm clock across the room. It was still early, not even 10am yet.

  The bedroom door was closed, but I heard voices out in the living area. I rolled out of his bed and found a t-shirt hanging in his closet. It wouldn’t be proper to walk out there, if we had company in my tank top, since Max seems to think it’s see through.

  I walk into the kitchen and see Sterling and Dane on the other side of the counter.

  “Good morning sleepy-head,” Dane smiles as I approach. They are way too chipper for the morning.

  I look around and see no signs of Max.

  “Max went to the store. I brought over bacon and then he explained to us that you couldn’t eat the bacon, so he ran to pick up some sausage.”

  My heart filled with gratitude as I smiled.

  “So, he tells us that you’ve cured him.” Dane says. Sterling swats at him and shushes him.

  “Cured him? From what a broken heart? Max never striked me as being broken hearted.” I laugh.

  Sterling and Dane suddenly look uncomfortable, and it would seem that I missed something. But they are looking behind me and not at me. I turn and I see Max is cemented in the spot he’s standing. Holding two grocery bags and an unhinged jaw.

  By the look on his face, I’m not sure if I said something wrong or not. He’s not showing any signs of, well anything. He resumes his steps and smiles weakly at me as he walks by me. He sets up the bags on the counter and leaves the kitchen into his room, where he closes the door behind him.

  “Shit. Did I say something wrong?” I ask, hugging myself.

  Sterling and Dane look hesitantly at one another.

  “I’ll, uh go check on Max.” Dane says excusing himself.

  “Shit, I did, didn’t I?” I sulk to the barstool and plant myself on it. I put my head in my hands and groan.

  “It’s not your fault. You didn’t know. Max… fuck… he should be telling you this. I’m sorry Tatum. This isn’t my story to tell.”

  “Is Max, is he okay?” I ask. That’s the only answer I need right now.

  “He’s been better since you moved in, since you and him re-met.” She answers. I can see in her expression that she believes that.

  Not a minute later, Dane reappears from Max’s bedroom.

  “Hey, let’s give these two some alone time. We’ll uh, come back over and have breakfast for dinner. Yeah, sorry Tatum. Really.” Dane says apologetically.

  I follow them with my eyes and then turn the stool to eject myself from it and seek out Max. I should probably give him some time to himself, but that would torture me right now. So I walk into his bedroom. He’s sitting in one of the corner recliner chairs with his hands in his hair. He’s breathing deeply and it looks like he’s about to lose his cool.

  “Max? Max? Did I do something, say something wrong?” I squeak out. I’m walking slowly towards him, unsure how to approach him.

  His eyes finally focus on me and recognition appears. His hands fall from his hair.

  “No, no of course not. Come here, please?” He asks me holding his hand out to me, it’s shaking slightly.

  “I’m sorry. I don’t know what’s going on, Dane and Sterling they said–”

  “I know what they said.” He takes a deep breath. “Listen, there’s something that I need to explain to you. I was actually trying to get the nerve to do it today anyways. They just sped up the talk I was hoping to have with you later on today.”

  “Oh no.” I start to move myself from sitting on his lap but he wraps his arms around me.

  “No, no it’s not anything like that. Please, just listen. We’re gonna, I’m gonna have a serious discussion. It’s one sided though, but I think in order for there to be an us, this is something that you are fully aware of. And I would feel particularly better about this, if you stayed right where you are.” He says fixing my legs so I sit astride him.

  We’re facing another right now and he looks lost and nervous. I run my hand along his shoulder and try to relax, waiting for him to start talking.

  He takes a very deep breath and then looks at an empty space in the corner of his room.

  “As you know, I am a recovering alcoholic. I haven’t always been one, I’m sure somewhere deep down inside I always was since I partied almost as hard in college, but my heavy drinking came to surface when I got into a car accident and lost someone.”

  Several deep breaths. He closes his eyes and starts talking again.

  “She died, and I was badly injured. I didn’t know she died until after I went through my own surgery. I lived with Dane and Sterling for a while and almost ruined my friendship with them.”

  Another deep breath, this one shaky.

  “I stopped caring. About everything, I lived in what I would call the crash zone for a year and half, going through a foggy haze of alcohol and women. I’m honestly surprised my intervention didn’t come sooner. When we met, I wasn’t at my best, I was at rock bottom, and I’m sorry for that, I don’t regret our night or what’s become of it, I think though that it contributed to me getting better, I don’t know how but I think that. Anyways, I had just gotten into another car accident, someone wasn’t paying attention when they were changing lanes, and that sent me to a bad place.”

  I don’t know if I should say anything, or to continue letting him speak. He said it was a one sided conversation, and I’m sure that he’s heard all the sorries that someone could give. So I sit silent, waiting for him to go on.

  He swallows and continues on.

  “When we hooked up, I never would have thought that you knew Davis. But since he found me, I assume through you and Sammie – anyways, I have felt guilty for a lot of things since the accident. I lived and she didn’t, I’m moving on with my life and she’s forever stuck, I have feelings for you, but if she didn’t die, then this thing between us, wouldn’t have happened. I feel guilty for moving on, for using women, for drinking and losing my way for a bit, for letting down my friends, for moving you in, and then I feel guilty that I feel these things and I know that I shouldn’t. I know that I need to be the best me for you and for peanut and most of all myself. I’ve had enough talks with Sterling to know that feeling this is okay, especially when presented with something new. But you�
�re helping me, by not doing anything in particular, but just by you existing and existing with me.”

  “I don’t understand the guilt all the way, but I accept it. It’s not something that I can fully control, but I don’t want it to consume me and to obstruct anything in my path, in our path. When Dane mentioned curing me, you are. However unconventional this relationship started, my ducks are messy as fuck, but they’re getting in their rows, they’re in the same pond and that counts. I may say or act weirdly, but rule number three is that we be honest with another and I want nothing more than to be that with you, especially if it speeds up the annihilation of rule number five.” He ends with a wink.

  Tears are struggling to stay in, a few lone tears escaped during his confession. Max wipes my cheeks and pulls me to him and hugs me. His arms circle my entire body, and his head lays in the crook of my neck. I feel wetness against my neck and I tighten my arms around him. We sat like that for several minutes, in silence, giving our strength to each other.

  * * *

  Today, I am 15 weeks pregnant. Pregnancy is weird in that they don’t measure by months, since months sometimes have five weeks in them, but the baby’s gestation is measured by weeks. So that basically means, that pregnancy lasts more to 10 months and not the nine months that has always been told to us growing up.

  Everything on the home front has been quiet. Max has been steadily working and going to a few meetings a week. We had his brother and Katrina over for dinner and then the following week, we had Leo and his fiancée over for dinner, and tonight I refused to have anyone come over because now that Max and I have passed the one month mark, rule number five can be exterminated. It’s been a rough sexless month and all I want to do is devour him. But I’m sitting here on the couch, with my feet up on the coffee table, watching one of the housewives shows anticipating him to come home.

  Usually, he comes home around now, but the house is silent other than the bickering middle-aged women on the screen in front of me. I check my phone, and there are no messages. I feel like a worried wife, except I have no need to be worried and I’m not a wife. But somewhere in my gut, something is nagging at me.