Missed Connection

by K Larsen

  “Ty?”

  “MmmmHmmm?”

  “I didn’t know life could feel like this,” I whisper it, almost scared to jinx the beauty, the fragile balance of perfection. Tears run down my face, but they’re not tears of sadness.

  “I wish we could take the moments and stretch them out forever.”

  “I want to move in together as soon as the divorce is final. Like have the house sold, my stuff in storage, all ready to go.”

  Ty is quiet and I take it as hesitation. I’m moving too fast for him or he’s not ready to move in with a basket case. It’s my disease, I know, that is making this hard. I’m not a contract without conditions, I’m not a hole in one, nor am I cut and dry.

  “I don’t get manic that often, and after so many years, I’m fluent at handling at. I do have trouble sleeping and I may do a few things that you find crazy.”

  “I realize all that. It doesn’t change how I feel. What’s it like when it happens? How do the episodes make you feel, how do they affect you?”

  He always surprises me, always makes me stop and think. Ty is unpredictable, he’s always more thoughtful than I expect. The way he treats me and how he thinks about the disorder, is so different from how John was, that it takes me a minute to acclimate, to realize he’s truly interested in an answer.

  “Mania makes me lighter, it makes me quick and strong. I can see things with clarity that were murky before. I have the confidence to make attempts at more unattainable things and the drive to keep trying again and again, ad infinitum. But sometimes it goes too fast or it gets a little askew—that’s like heat turning into a burn. Or like looking through a camera lens until the focus is just perfect and then tightening it up more until it’s so sharp it starts to hurt.”

  “Do you like it? Do you ever have sex when you feel like that?”

  God, just Ty’s curiosity and interest are enough to make me get wet.

  “Masturbating with you was the first time I tried it. Except for maybe in the early stages of my marriage. But I was so self-conscious and so ashamed, I did everything I could to suppress it.”

  “I think we should use it. Explore it and see what happens. Do you feel emotions more intensely? What about physical sensations?”

  “Yes. But you should know, it’s the same when I’m low. The depression is severe and my self-esteem non-existent. I don’t have the lethargy as bad as some others do, but I get very detached, disinterested in life itself and everything around me.”

  “I haven’t seen you like that yet, but I’m ready for it when it comes. I think we should try sex almost therapeutically with both the highs and the lows. If you’re more sensitive, both physically and emotionally, it could be potentially mind-blowing and I think it’s something we should try together—that is, if you’re up for it.”

  My heart soars with everything that he says. The emotion is overflowing like hot lava falling into the ocean, there are so many reactions happening inside me at once, that my mind and heart have gone haywire on overload. I kiss him with a fervor and zeal that feel like starvation. His cock reacts against my thigh and my hand immediately grabs it. I want sex like an addict needs another hit. I don’t think I can live another minute without this man inside me.

  “I didn’t think it was possible to fall any more deeply in love with you.”

  It comes out fluidly with a life of its own; surreptitiously, without my heart asking permission from my mind or my mouth. I freeze and go stiff like a terrified animal. It’s my truth, I’m madly in love with Ty, but the problem is, that up until now, neither one of us has yet said it.

  I’m stunned momentarily. Not because I don’t feel the same way but because she said the words out loud. Desperation to tell her overwhelms me but this isn’t the ideal time. Not after saying those words. She’s stiff in my arms. Clearly unsure if she should have let those three little words slip.

  I lift her chin until she’s looking at me. “I love you, Jess.” The words aren’t hard to say. I feel no hesitation putting them out there. I want this; I want her. I wrap my arms around her, not caring that our towels fall away. We’re flush against each other and my need for her is evident. “I’ve probably always loved you. It’s ridiculous, I know, but there you’ve been, holding a corner of my heart since the night we met.” I scoop an arm down, under her knees and pick her up. It’s not far to the bed but I don’t want to put her down. I’d hold her forever, if I had the time. Guilt claws at me but I push it away. I revel in the feeling of her swept up in my arms. Of the way she weighs so little and the feeling of her arms clinging to my neck.

  “Ty,” she whispers. I silence her with a kiss. We don’t need words right now. Setting her on the bed gently, I watch as she lies bare for me. She squirms, whether in need or lack of self-esteem, I don’t care. I want to look at her. I love her body. I trail a finger from her collarbone downward. Goosebumps break out along the path I’ve traced. I push her ankles apart, kneel between her legs and lift her hips with my hands. Her entire body shudders when I bring her pussy to my mouth and lick her center. Her knees are hooked over my shoulders. I use one hand to spread her lips wide and I dive in. Licking, gently biting and sucking. I want her to explode. I want her to come undone. I want her. It’s simple as that, really. She tastes clean and smells soapy from our bath. I push her bottom up with my palm, bringing her center more firmly to my mouth. Pushing my tongue inside her yields me a groan that I haven’t heard before.

  Her hands clutch the comforter. It twists in her fingers. I replace my tongue with two fingers and use my mouth to focus on more sensitive areas. When her hips start bucking, I don’t slow; instead, I speed up all my movements. She mumbles something about it being too much but I know her body and I know she’s wrong, so I continue on with fever. I swing the arm under her rear up and hook it at her pelvis to keep her from thrusting so hard. Flattening my tongue, I run it up the length of her, then nibble on her clit. Jess cries out as she comes. With both hands, I pull her core more firmly to my mouth and slowly bring her down from ecstasy. Tiny earthquakes ripple through her body. Muscles tightening, then going slack. Like little shivers. It drives me wild, knowing I can make her body react that way.

  I set her hips down to the bed and open the nightstand drawer for a condom.

  “I want you on top, babe,” I say handing her the condom. She blinks in rapid succession as I lie on my back, hands tucked under my head, erection standing at attention. She kneels on the bed beside me. Her hair is tousled and wet still. Her face has a glow to it and her eyes are cloudy with desire. She rolls the condom on slowly, no doubt toying with me, but I like it. The feel of her and the deliberation with which she makes her movements, is sensual. She lifts one leg and straddles me, hovering just above my cock. I want to push my hips up and take her, but I don’t. I want her to be in control. I want her to own her sexuality; to believe in it.

  She sinks down on me slowly. It’s torture. Her hand’s come to my pecs to steady herself as she lifts up again. I crane my neck upward so I can kiss her. Her kiss is hungry and feverish. She rotates her hips around leisurely and clenches. A moan slips from the back of my throat. “You like that?” she asks. I nod and she does it again. Pulling a hand out from behind my head, I place my palm flat between her breasts and push slightly. The angle is just right. She lets out a breathy cry and starts moving her hips faster, grinding down on me. Her breasts bounce. Her back is arched and she feels so incredible. The sensations coursing through me overwhelm and I come. Her hips grind faster until she squeaks out a sound I’ve never heard before and collapses onto my chest.

  “Oh, God, I’m sorry, did you finish?” she rasps. I chuckle and rub her back in slow circles.

  “Yup.” It’s the only word I can form. We lie in a tangled mass of limbs, silently, and it’s perfect.

  I’m a grown woman hiding in a closet. What’s even worse, is that it’s not my own closet, it’s Ty’s, and he’d think I was insane were he to find me in here. But I’ve been cryi
ng and he’s sleeping. No, I’ve been sobbing. I don’t want to. I’m trying to keep it under control, but I’ve lost it. I couldn’t sleep anyway; I was tossing and turning when I heard his phone vibrate with a message. Then the screen lit up, casting a greenish hue all over the room. I ruminated. I thought it could be Luke. Maybe he snuck out and he got hurt. Maybe he needed a ride or a rescue from a sticky situation. I was worried. I could have woken him up. What if it were just his cellular service reminding him how much he had left on his data plan. Maybe it was a family emergency, a distant relative died and they were notifying next of kin. I ran over every single possible scenario in my head.

  When the phone buzzed again, I decided to look. Look first and then wake him up only if it were important, information that absolutely could not wait until morning. When I snuck out from under the covers as carefully as possible and tiptoed around his big bed, I did have the inkling that I might be invading his privacy. I’d be lying if I said the thought didn’t occur to me. If not, how could I explain doing everything so quietly.

  But it wasn’t Luke or his family, at least I hope she’s not family. It appeared to be something far worse, a problem in which I had no experience dealing.

  HEY, SEXY, I’M OFF ALL THIS WEEK. READY FOR ROUND TWO? I COULD DRIVE UP AND YOU COULD GIVE ME ANOTHER TOUR, LOL!

  I GET WET JUST THINKING ABOUT YOU AND THAT PACKAGE UR CARRYING.

  Then a winking, yellow smiley face. I’d never seen a smiley face look so threatening. I dropped the phone and clutched my heart like a bad daytime soap opera. I fell to my knees and picked it up again, thinking maybe it was a joke from one of his male friends. But her name was Emily, it was written at the top. I did the worst thing then, I became a snoop. I scrolled through their texts. They know each other well, she’s the reporter who wrote the article on him for that magazine. It seems they hooked up. My heart hiccups, then drops like a stone to the ocean floor, hard, fast and straight; a heartbroken deadweight.

  I hide like a thief in the dark. Into the closet, right back where I hid my mania so many times from John. I retreat between rows of shoes so that my back is flush with the cold wall and I’m partially hidden by coats. I use his phone to Google images of her. She’s beautiful. Of course. She’s probably twenty years younger and much better in bed. She’s probably funny and smart, ambitious but at the same time, genuine. I hate her. I want to tear out her gorgeous hair and claw at her face. Then I hate myself for feeling that way and I pull my knees to my chest. Face in hands, hands against knees, I cry into oblivion. I don’t know what Ty sees in me. He can obviously have anyone he wants. He’s obviously had better than me.

  I don’t know for how many hours I sit there and cower, torturing myself with images of his hands on her, him whispering in her ear. Ty bringing her to orgasm, or even worse, him coming for her. Ty ejaculating on her body like he does on mine, his moan of satisfaction, the weight of him, spent, resting on her. I torture myself so much, that I fear becoming physically sick. I can’t puke on Ty’s clothes or in his shoes, I’ve got to get into the bathroom.

  My head knocks the shelf above me and boxes tumble down on all sides. It was loud. I squeal and jump back to my hiding spot.

  “Jess?” I hear his sleepy voice murmur.

  Quiet! Say nothing. He’ll fall right back asleep, like a baby.

  “Baby? Are you in here?”

  I hear him get of bed. He goes to the bathroom. He pees. I’m mortified. He can’t catch me hiding in the closet. But I’d die before I’d come out willingly, face swollen from bawling, delirious with jealousy.

  He comes out, stands in the middle of the room. Walks toward the bedroom door but probably sees that it’s closed.

  “Jess, are you in the closet?”

  I must have told him my former hiding spot. I’m so embarrassed I could die on the spot. I’m filled up with gallons of humiliation, sprinkled generously with self-doubt.

  “No.” I say, like I’m four years old. This is it, Jesenia. Say goodbye to your dream future because you just lost yourself a boyfriend. And a best friend. As usual, you fucked up and flushed it all down the toilet. Mental illness wins and you lose the whole game.

  He pulls the door open and some light from the bathroom leaks in. I scurry back further, trying to escape my predicament.

  Ty always surprised me. John used to feel around with one arm. He’d grab at me, catch any part and drag me out aggressively, always with anger, always with rage. Almost as if he took my shortcomings as an insult to his own character. He’d yank me out and scream at me to act like an adult, scream that I should be ashamed of myself. It wasn’t enough that I already was, that I am. Hiding was about me feeling safe, but he never understood that. John never tried to understand, he tried to rid me of it and it never worked.

  Ty kneels down and tentatively grabs one of my ankles. His hand whispers its way up my leg and squeezes my knee reassuringly when it gets there. He pulls the door closed behind him with his foot. It’s pitch black inside and I can hear only my heart pounding and his breathing. He ducks under the clothing and pulls himself up beside me. Ty can barely fit in the closet, such a strappingly huge man, he is. But soon he’s sitting right next to me, feet pulled in, knees bent. He reaches his arm around my back and presses my head into his chest.

  His heart is beating hard, too, and I know I have to tell him what I’m upset about, why it is that I’m hiding. If I were more resilient, I could deal with this more eloquently. But instead, I’m a mess.

  “It’s tight in here,” he whispers. “Quiet and dark.”

  I nod my head and sniffle into his T-shirt. I lift up his phone without looking at it and press it on. I hold it in front of where I think his face is but I can’t hold in the sobs.

  “Ah. Emily,” he says. There is no fear in his voice or any sound of culpability. He doesn’t sound angry that I’ve read it and audaciously invaded his privacy.

  “Are you sleeping with her, too?” I ask. I can’t keep it together. My heart is breaking when I speak and I’m so terrified of his answer.

  “I did once. Before you replied to my letter.”

  I cry. I cry because he slept with her. I cry because she knows his body, too, and I feel jealous of her. He rubs my head. He massages my neck like only Ty knows how.

  He presses a button on his phone and the screen lights up again. He texts with one thumb, never removing his other large, comforting hand from my neck.

  Emily, Happy Holidays! The article looked great! I’m in a very committed relationship now and I’m happy.

  “Will you send this for me, Jess?” He passes the phone to me. My hands are shaking and I wipe away the tears, realizing how silly I am. How pitifully insecure I am about myself, and my lover.

  “Are you sure?” I ask him, my voice in vibrato with emotion.

  “Your heart is part of me, it’s the most precious possession that I own. You entrusted it to me and I will guard it and honor it with my life. I won’t cheat on you, ever. I shudder at the thought of you thinking I’d want anyone else. We are way beyond dating. This isn’t about the sex or hooking up. Twenty years ago, you walked out of a blizzard and into my arms. You were a vision to behold in that green dress. In a little under an hour, you’d captured my whole heart.

  “Don’t, Ty. It’s me, I was being unreasonable.”

  “Shh, just listen to the story.”

  “Do you know how many times I replayed that moment in my head? Where I was in the bathroom, second guessing my own feelings and you, full of your own doubts, slipped away into the night. You disappeared right before my eyes, like magic. I beat myself up for not running with it, for not telling you the effect you had on me in that moment. I left it up to fate, when I should have been a man and grabbed it with everything I had in me. But back then, I guess, I just didn’t have enough.”

  “You were hurting. I should never have run away and left you alone.”

  “But that’s the way it worked out and we can’t change the past. I kn
ow your ex-husband didn’t do enough to let you know how special you are. I know he didn’t make you feel desirable. I’m not him, Jess.”

  “I know you’re not him, I’m sorry.”

  “You’ve held my heart as collateral for the last twenty years. I only want you. I couldn’t care less about a one night stand before I found you. It’s over. It never even got started. Please don’t be jealous about something in the past, that I have no control of.”

  “Okay,” I whisper and straddle his lap.

  “Okay? Just like that? I mean, I was kind of flattered.”

  “Shut up,” I say and kiss him tenderly on his smart mouth.

  “Can we get out of the closet then?” he asks through the kiss.

  “I love that you came in here with me. I love everything about you.”

  “This?” Ty says, pressing his erection to my center.

  “Especially that,” I say and tip back my head as he nibbles my neck.

  “On a serious note, fate has a strong arm and we’re blind to its intentions but whatever we have left, whatever it grants us, I plan on using every moment of it and loving you the best that I can.”

  My heart is still racing. Emily’s text really upset Jess and although I think I’ve rectified the situation, I know it was a big blow to her confidence.

  “Are you real?” she asks. I chuckle and nod my head.

  “Can we please get out of the closet now, babe? I’m all bunched up.” Jess laughs lightly and helps me out of the closet, since she can maneuver the tight space easily.

  Once we’re in bed, I pull Jess close. She’s warm. My arm is heavy across her waist. Taking my hand, she put it on her breast, as I look at the clock by the bed. It’s going to be a rough morning.

  “I love you, Titan,” her whisper dances slowly across my lips and I grin.

  “I love you too, babe.” I squeeze her to me and close my eyes.

  At eight, I’m awakened by the smell of bacon and coffee. Jess isn’t in bed, so I snag a tee shirt from the floor and head downstairs. Angie, Andrew and Luke are sitting at the dining room table eating a full breakfast. Jess is in the kitchen, at the stove cooking. A pang of grief hits me square in the chest. Seeing her here, in my kitchen, doing normal everyday family things, makes me so happy that I could burst but knowing that this future is short lived, sends my stomach plummeting to the floor. I can’t go on like this. I can’t lie to Luke, my friends and I especially can’t lie to Jess. I have to tell her before she leaves. It will be the best of a shitty situation. She will have Angie and Andrew with her for support.