Forgotten Yesterday

by Renee Ericson

  Reaching around his back, I pull at his shirt, finding the elastic band of his boxers, and slide my hand underneath, palming his firm ass. Brent groans, pushing his lower half against me.

  “You’re...really...” he utters along my jaw. “Testing my willpower.”

  “Sorry,” I half apologize.

  Skimming the edge of my panties, Brent lowers his hand beneath the tiny piece of fabric, finding one of the most sensitive parts of my body. I tug on his hair as he drags his tongue down my neck, planting his lips just above my collarbone.

  “I’ve been wanting to touch you like this since that first night in the restaurant.”

  “Me too,” I admit, running my hand around the inside of his boxers, gripping his erection. God, I want him.

  “Ruby,” he mumbles against my neck, stilling against my touch. “How can I…”

  Taking my mouth once again with his, he deftly moves his fingers between my legs and into me with so much tenacity I can think of nothing else. Relaxing, I let go of him beneath his boxers and place my hand on his hip. Maybe it’s his skillful touch or maybe it’s just because it’s him, but it doesn’t take long before my body pulses, releasing a pleasurable shudder from deep within.

  When my breathing begins to slow, I peer into Brent’s triumphant face. He kisses me softly and moves his hand to my side. Resting his head on the pillow, he edges his frame into mine, snuggling his chin onto my shoulder.

  “I can safely say I won’t regret that,” I happily tell him.

  “Good.” He hugs me closer.

  Adjusting myself to see him better, I just look at him. He seems so content. Written all over him is pride, desire, and compassion.

  But there’s something else.

  Further in, looming somewhere underneath his outward expression, lies a hint of regret and sorrow.

  I can see it.

  I can feel it.

  We’re both so lost—looking to be found.

  Fifteen

  After many kisses, some passionate and others chaste, Brent rests next to me and shuts his lids.

  “I’m glad I got to see you,” he says, barely above a whisper.

  “Me too. Really glad.”

  Not long after, Brent’s breathing becomes slow and even.

  He’s asleep.

  The warm air escaping his mouth tickles my ear. Adjusting myself carefully within his arms, I watch him while he slumbers.

  Lying next to him really is the most comfortable thing in my world. My heart soars as I scan every one of his familiar features. In his sleeping state, Brent resembles more closely the man I once knew. The caring, understanding, and gentle person resonates so profoundly. The boy who first took my heart is still there and the man who wanted to spend forever with me lingers along the edges.

  Someone else is there, too.

  Four years have passed and there is more to this man than I remember. I don’t know all of him anymore. We all change with time. I know I have.

  Brent grunts mildly and his eyelids twitch. I hold still, so not to wake him. He pulls me closer, firming his grip on my lower back and I wrap my arms around him, nuzzling into the crook of his shoulder. His breathing slows once again and I settle into him—cherishing having him close, even if only for a handful more hours.

  Like a metronome, his chest rises and falls, coercing my soul into a state of ease. Eventually, I fall asleep.

  ~~~*~~~

  It was a beautiful afternoon as Brent and I walked hand in hand through Lincoln Park Zoo, basking in the unseasonal warmth from the sun. Not many animals were out this time of year, so we headed into the ape house where the halls were dark. There weren’t many people here. Actually, we were the only ones in the building.

  I followed Brent as he came to stand in front of the chimpanzees. Two of the apes were resting on the branches of a tree and another was swinging happily across the entire space.

  Stopping to stand next to Brent, I watched the happy tree dwelling family behind the glass.

  “They’re cute,” I said, crinkling my nose, taking in their habitat of twigs and hay. “Sort of.”

  “I guess.” His arm reached around me, rested on my shoulder, and he pointed to the two apes sitting in the tree. One was significantly smaller than the other. “Do you think that’s a mama and her baby?”

  “Yep. It looks that way.” My attention was pulled away when the other chimpanzee flew in front of them. “What about that one?”

  “The other one?”

  “Yeah. The crazy one.”

  “Likely the father.” Brent tightened his embrace around my shoulder. “They’re all a bunch of goofballs.”

  “You think so?”

  “I hope so.” His hand rested on my slightly bulging stomach. “Because if not, I’m in serious trouble.”

  I laughed. “You think you’re a goofball?”

  “Well, I hope so. I don’t want to be one of those boring dads. The kind that just works and never has any fun.” Pointing his finger at the swinging monkey. “I want to be like this guy.”

  “You want to swing from trees and have hair all over your body?”

  “Yes,” he stated sarcastically. “I was thinking about taking hair growth hormones as well. To complete the transformation.”

  The father stopped his aerobatic exercises, resting on one of the tree branches.

  “Nice,” I said with mock approval. “I like a little hair on a guy. Do you plan on working on your swinging techniques, too?”

  “Well,” he said slyly. “I was thinking maybe we could do a few exercises to keep me limber.”

  I snorted. “Really? Oh man, you are not subtle. Why don’t you just say you want to work on the monkey mambo while you’re at it?”

  “Okay,” he retorted seriously. “I want to work on the monkey mam—”

  There was a thud, interrupting our conversation. We both whipped our heads toward the noise in time to see the male monkey flinging something at the partition.

  Another thud.

  Parts of the matter stuck to the clear barrier and then slowly, the monkey shit slid down to the ground.

  “So,” I mused. “Do you think flinging poo is another father prerequisite? Because if so, we need to have a serious talk.”

  “Damn,” Brent huffed, defeated. “So, that’s a hard and fast no then, I take it?”

  “Oh, you can fling it if you like, but I’ll be sending divorce papers in the mail,” I teased.

  “I don’t have time for divorce papers.” He stepped around to stand in front of me. “I’m too busy loving you.”

  Brent lifted my left hand to his lips, affectionately kissing the ring he placed on my finger just a few weeks ago.

  “Good.” I wrapped my arms around his neck, maneuvering my body to the side a bit so my bump didn’t…bump him, as I stepped in closer. “I like that.”

  “Just like, huh?”

  “Okay. Maybe I love it.” I lifted up onto my tiptoes, kissing him, breathing a bit of myself into him. “But I definitely love you.”

  “I love you too, Mrs. Cromwell.”

  Brent tangled his fingers into my hair and kissed me, pouring all of himself into my soul. His tongue gently asked for entry into my mouth, and I opened willingly.

  My legs began to feel weak and they trembled as he kissed me more intently with every passing second. The weight of my frame pressed heavily against my feet and knees, until they started to give out. I grabbed onto his shoulders, trying to stay upright, but it was no use. We disengaged our mouths and Brent clutched me by my elbows.

  “Brent.” I trembled with fear, falling to the ground with a resounding thump. I sat glued to the floor, overcome with the weight I bore.

  “What happened?” His hand reached toward me, but for some reason I wasn’t able to grab it. I tried and tried, but it seemed that the more effort I gave the further away he became.

  “Brent,” I cried. “Please.”

  “I can’t reach you,” he growled with urgency
. “Holy shit!” He honed in on my thighs as they slowly began to seep with blood.

  “No!” I screamed. I tried to wipe away the blood, only smearing it more and more over my legs. There was no stopping it. It was getting everywhere. Desperate for help, I searched the room for Brent, unable to find him anywhere. “Brent!”

  A sharp pain seared into my back, shooting down my legs and into my stomach. The intensity made me unable to function. There was nothing but pain.

  I gasped for air, but it didn’t come—suffocating, drowning without water.

  Smothered in fear and agony—wrenching and tearing my stomach and back in half.

  My body endlessly twisted and riled in a pool of blood for an eternity.

  Then there was nothing.

  It was dark and cold. There were no walls. There was no sound. There was no pain. There was nothing. Only blackness.

  “Brent?” I called. “Brent?”

  No response. I tried to stand up, but something with a heavy pull was weighing me down. Eyeing all around and then finally lowering my chin, I found a small baby swaddled in a blue blanket on my lap.

  Shakily, my hands reached to pick up the child. The blanket was soft and I could feel every indentation of the small fibers. Using all of my strength, I pushed upward, struggling to raise the baby from my lap. I wasn’t strong enough. Stuck in the motion, unable to lift the bundle, I wept with my hands sealed under its heft. It was just a baby and my arms were useless.

  I was useless.

  And then, the baby was gone. Disappeared. Like it was never there.

  My hands trembled erratically in my now vacated lap.

  I rocked in place.

  Confusion took hold.

  I was left with no one.

  Footsteps echoed in the distance.

  “Hello?” I called out. “Hello?”

  Brent stood next to me, appearing out of nowhere. He carried an aura of disgust and it was aimed directly at me.

  “What did you do?” he barked. “Where’s my son?”

  “I…I…I don’t know,” I quivered. “I don’t know.”

  Without a word, he pivoted on his heel and stomped away.

  “Where are you going?” I cried. He continued to leave and all I heard were his steps ringing through the hollow space. “Brent?”

  The sound of his feet hitting the ground came to a halt.

  “Where I belong,” his voice reverberated through the air, ever so quietly. “I belong with my son.”

  Then there was nothing.

  No light.

  No sound.

  Nothing but darkness.

  Nothing.

  ~~~*~~~

  My shoulders sway, joggling back and forth like on a ship at sea. The air entering and exiting my lungs travels erratically across my teeth.

  Stuttering tears pool behind closed lids.

  “Shhhhhhhh.”

  The sound tugs outside of my subconsciousness. Where am I?

  “Shhhhhhhh.”

  Inhaling one breath and then another.

  My consciousness knocks. There’s someone here.

  My eyes fly open into the dark room. A hand touches my cheek, sending a surge of adrenaline through every part of my system at once. I jolt away from the contact and skitter off of the bed. My back hits the wall with a start.

  Shit! It was a dream. It was that dream. That wickedly haunting dream of everything I ever wanted and the destruction of it all.

  Regaining focus, I concentrate on the adjusting grey hues making shapes on my refrigerator.

  “Ruby,” a deep and cautious voice hums into the darkness.

  Tentatively, I squint at the figure sitting in my bed. He takes his time, moving slowly out of the comforter and coming to sit at the edge of the mattress.

  My heart stops skipping around and becomes even almost immediately.

  He’s here.

  He stayed.

  Then, I remember—only for the night.

  “Brent,” I gasp.

  “Yeah.” There’s concern, real concern, written across his features. Like I may be losing my grip on reality. “Are you okay?”

  “I’m fine,” I reply, slinking my body taller against the wall. “It was just a bad dream.”

  “You were talking in your sleep.” The corners of his mouth turn downward. “You were saying my name like you were hurt.”

  He knows.

  “Are you still having nightmares?”

  “No,” I snap defensively. “It’s just...” I sigh. “Yeah...but I haven’t in years.”

  “The same one?”

  “Yes,” I answer shyly. “It went away until now.”

  “Until tonight?”

  “Yes.” Sort of.

  Brent rises from the bed and comes to stand in front of me. He soothingly caresses the length of my arm and then palms my cheek. His thumb rubs the salt staining moisture from below my eye, while his other hand clears the hair from the side of my face.

  “It’s just a dream,” he tells me gently. This was the dream I couldn’t shake. It was the one that ruined us. It ruined me.

  “I know. Really, I know.”

  “Do you want me to go? Would it make it easier?”

  Shaking my head back and forth between his hands, I hope to stifle the words tickling on my tongue. The darkness and the rawness of the evening are drawing them to the forefront.

  Covering my face, I blurt out, “I never wanted you to go.”

  And I begin to sob—hard.

  Brent pulls me into his chest and I crumble, wetting his shirt with my tears. He coaxes me to relax, rubbing my back soothingly over and over, while planting his lips around my hairline.

  “I should have stayed,” he whispers. “I should have…everything’s a fucking mess. What a...fuck!”

  I cry harder.

  There’s nothing to say in return. We made our decisions years ago.

  Goodbye will be here soon, so until then, I cling to Brent—sadistically savoring what could have been.

  Sixteen

  An unfamiliar tone echoes faintly in my ear, getting louder as it pulls me out of sleep. Morning light casts upon the white wall in front of me. The weight of Brent’s arm, resting across my waist, lifts slightly as he stirs awake.

  “That’s your phone,” I tell him, the evening still thick in my voice.

  Brent grunts and then releases me from his embrace, rolling backwards. My back tenses from the sudden chill that replaces his absent warmth.

  Expecting him to come back to bed for a few minutes more, I’m surprised when I feel his weight leave the mattress completely. I roll over. His back is to me and he’s pushing his legs into his pants. Sitting up, I pull the comforter to cover my stomach and watch him search the room.

  “Are you looking for something?” I ask, more alert than I should be given the hour.

  “Yeah.” He rubs his hand over his chest, turning side-to-side. “Do you know where I left my sweater?”

  Tossing the blanket aside, I pad my feet onto the cold hardwood to the end of the bed. I crouch down and just underneath the bed frame lays his sweater. Scooping it up, I rise and place it into his waiting hand.

  “Thanks,” he says, taking it. Brent pulls it on and then rakes his hand through his disheveled, in a sexy way, hair.

  “Can I get you anything to drink or eat?” I question, walking to the refrigerator.

  “No, that’s okay. I’ll just get something at the hotel.”

  I nod, crossing my arms around myself. Brent shoves his hands into his pants pockets, rocking back and forth, heel to toe.

  “I’m going to use your bathroom.”

  “Sure. Go right ahead.”

  He rubs his temple and then enters into the bathroom, closing the door.

  There’s a heavy silence hanging in the air. We seem to be at an impasse, waiting for the other to say something. There’s nothing easy about what comes next and we know it. I know it. We were at a similar place once before.

&n
bsp; Endings are permanently and eternally difficult. In fact, there’s a saying that they always come “badly.” Ours certainly did.

  ~Past~

  Brent entered my dorm room while Mara was at a class. He knew I’d be here. I hardly went anywhere, lately.

  Closing my book, I pulled my knees to my chest, waiting for him to say something. He wanted to say something.

  He took a seat on Mara’s bed, across from me, and dropped his hands into his lap.

  “I’ve been thinking we might need a change.”

  Oh god!

  “Like what?” I hesitantly asked.

  “I don’t know. I’ve been trying to give you your space.” He looked at me dead on. “You need it sometimes. I get that. But it’s killing me and I can’t do it anymore. I can’t sit in here with you like this and not knowing what the hell is going on.”

  I rubbed my eyes. “I know.”

  “What do you want to do?”

  This was a question to which I had no answer. Everything used to make so much sense, but now nothing made any sense. I wasn’t sure if we made sense. A mess of a dream kept telling me...I wasn’t sure what it was telling me.

  “I…I don’t know.” My voice shook. I really didn’t know.

  “What don’t you know? About us?” he questioned quietly, like the words were enemies.

  I gulped. My breathing was coming out so shaky I couldn’t speak. He was putting out the idea of us ending for good, like he knew the thoughts that were running circles in my head. Oh god.

  My lack of words wasn’t enough or that was all the answer he needed, because he got up and stormed to the door. He grabbed the handle and I choked on every inhalation that tried to make its way into my lungs.

  Panicked.

  Unprepared.

  Lost.

  What was happening?

  Brent slammed his hand against the door and then charged towards me, coming to a halt inches from where I sat.

  “You won’t even let me touch you anymore,” he said, exasperated. I blinked at him through the wetness. “Why?”

  “What? That’s not true.”

  “It is. Maybe you don’t realize it, but it is. And you never try to touch me. Hell, it’s like I don’t even exist to you, anymore. You tell me that you’ve been having nightmares but not what they’re about.” He ran his hand through his hair. “You don’t talk to me about anything. It’s like you’ve already made up your mind and I’m just waiting around. So tell me something!”