Forfeiting Decency

by Rachel Schneider

  “I already do.”

  I don’t know what I expect him to do or say, but doing nothing is not it. He doesn’t move or speak or even breathe, and I wait in stilted silence for an acknowledgment I’m not alone in this. It gets to a point I can’t take it anymore, and I move my body closer to him by a few inches, needing to feel something from him but unsure how to make him do it.

  “Say something,” I plead. There’s no way he can miss the absolute vulnerability in my voice.

  Clearing his throat, he says, “I just love you so much right now.”

  All the air leaves me and we remove the remaining distance between us. The moment his lips meet mine, I quit drowning. I’ve never felt more alive than I do right now, and I never want to let it go. He holds my face still as he uses his mouth to claim me. This isn’t a negotiation. There isn’t a chance to back out. If I love him, which I do, I don’t get an option to break us. He tells me all of this with his mouth.

  He breaks away but doesn’t let go, his eyes imploring mine. “Tell me you love me.”

  This time, I say it without hesitation. “I love you.”

  I’ve barely said the words when he’s kissing me again, pressing me firmly to him as his hands move from my face to my back. Breathing has never felt this effortless. I run my hands over the muscles of his stomach and up his chest, loving the way his skin feels beneath my touch.

  “Kaley,” he moans against my mouth.

  I dip my hand farther south. “Kip.”

  He reaches down, stopping it before it descends any lower. “Wait a second,” he says, his breath harsh against my lips.

  “There’s always a round two, remember?”

  Kissing the top of my hand, he pulls away, and I don’t like the distance. “Not tonight.” He uses his spare hand to smooth the hair from my face.

  I swallow back the feeling of rejection. “Is there a reason why?”

  “I want our next time to be different than here, in this apartment, where so many bad things have happened.”

  Where Peter has touched me.

  “You want a fresh start,” I say.

  “Yeah,” he says, seemingly relieved I understand. “I promise, I want to…badly. But I also want it to be in my bed, under my roof.” On his terms.

  Kip is a very proud man, and I’ve wounded his pride and it’s already asking a lot of him to stay here with me tonight. I hadn’t quite realized the sacrifice he was making to stay with me. It only makes me love him more.

  “Do you think you can forgive me?” I don’t want to say Peter’s name, too afraid it’ll change the mood of our conversation.

  “I know sex is purely physical. You can have sex with someone and it mean nothing to you. I’ve been there.” He snuggles into the pillow more, tugging me to his side.

  My body sinks farther into his side. It’s nearly impossible to describe the relief. “How do you know you won’t wake up one day and resent me for it?”

  “Because I know you didn’t want to,” he says softly. “I’m going to be honest and say it still hurts a little, but I get why you felt like you had to. Not only for Jackson, but for yourself. He literally owns your life. It’s hard to say no to someone who holds that kind of power over your head. Trust me, I get it.”

  “I wouldn’t blame you if you couldn’t, you know?”

  He sighs, eyes trained on the ceiling. “Kaley, I chose to forgive you the moment I left your apartment that night. You’ve never experienced anything like us before. I don’t fault you for being relationship illiterate, especially in the messed up situation you were in.” He runs his fingers in tiny circles on my forearm draped across his chest as he thinks. “When did you begin a relationship with him?”

  “After the trial,” I say. “At the time, I had mentioned to him that I needed a new place and job.”

  His fingers still. “He propositioned you?”

  “It wasn’t exactly like that,” I say, trying to organize my memories. “We flirted a lot. I mean, I flirted with everyone a lot, so I hadn’t thought anything of it. That was, until he invited me on a trip to Europe as an assistant.”

  Kip’s makes a sound of disbelief, somewhere between a cough and grunt, and I laugh. “It’s obvious now, but at the time I thought he was being sincere. We did end up sleeping together, but the money didn’t show up until a few months later when I found out about Paula and how close she was to losing her house.”

  “He offered to help you,” he says, putting the pieces together.

  “Yes. But now I see it for what it was…just a way for him to gain leverage over me.”

  I can tell he doesn’t want to ask whatever he’s about to, but needs to. “And the bar? Downtown?”

  “Peter started skipping out on the nights we were supposed to meet up, and that also meant I didn’t get the money for Jackson. It was an easy alternative.”

  Breathing deep, Kip resumes making tiny circles on my arm and I know he’s done asking questions for the time being. There’s probably a million more he’s sorting through, but for both of our sakes, he’s asked enough for tonight. He pulls my hand to his mouth again and I’m grateful for the small gesture. Everything Kip does is methodical, especially in regards to my feelings. He’s gentle with me in the most powerful of ways.

  I tell him I love him, and for the first time, he tells me, “I love you too.”

  WAKING UP WAS STARTLINGLY wondrous this morning. The first few seconds came at me fast, making me wake with a start. Kip’s body was warm against my back with his legs intertwined with mine and my hand still in his over my belly. I relished in the moment, unmoving for close to thirty minutes before he woke up. It was the best way to start the day.

  Kip, unfortunately, is a coffee drinker. So the first business of the day was to go get coffee and packing supplies. Kip before coffee is energetic, Kip after coffee is downright demanding.

  “Okay, I’ll start in the kitchen because it’ll be the most complicated to pack and you can attempt to tackle your closet and bedroom.”

  “That’s not fair,” I say. “You picked the room I use the least.”

  He laughs. “Do you want to switch?”

  I think about a box of unmentionables hidden in a shoebox under my bed and shake my head. “No.”

  We spend the day in separate parts of the apartment. Occasionally, he’ll come ask if I want to keep something or donate it. We pass each other as we deposit the boxes by the door or when we need to trade tape or newspaper, and I live for those moments. He pretends he’s focused on whatever he’s packing up, but I feel the way his body changes when I’m nearby, the way his eyes follow me when he thinks I’m not looking.

  “Hey, Kaley?”

  “Yeah?” I say, looking up from organizing shoes according to style on my bed.

  He points at a stack of newspapers on my dresser. “Can you hand me a few of those?”

  “Oh, yeah. Sure.” I reach over and hand him some.

  “Thanks.”

  I can’t stop the involuntary smile that takes over my face as he leaves. Just being around him makes me giddy. It’s almost like I can finally enjoy being in love.

  He peeks his head back in and I hurry to cover my smile. “Do you have the scissors?”

  I shake my head. “I haven’t seen them.”

  He doesn’t move for a split second, a hint of a smile in his eyes as he takes in my predicament. “I love you.” he says, and then leaves before I can even comprehend what just happened.

  We said it to each other last night, but saying it in the light of day where there’s nothing to hide behind is another. My smile only grows as I stare down at the mountain of shoes around me.

  “Kaley?”

  My head snaps up at the sound of Kip’s voice, and embarrassment floods my cheeks at being caught smiling like a dumbass at nothing again.

  “Stop coming in here,” I yell, throwing a group of newspaper at his face.

  He ducks just in time for the bulk of the newspaper to hit the d
oor, looking up at me like I’ve lost my mind. “What did I do?”

  “You know,” I say, pointing a finger at him.

  His smile is Cheshire. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.” Slowly, as if afraid, he leans in my direction.

  I hold his stare as I force air in and out of my lungs. “What are you doing?”

  He stops, lingering over me, holding my stare. “Getting a roll of tape.”

  It takes a moment for his words to finally register. “What?”

  He pulls away, holding up a roll of packing tape from the dresser behind me. “I didn’t want you to throw it at me.”

  A grin spreads across his face as he steps away, tossing the tape in the air and catching it as he leaves. I drop my head and groan into my hands. His chuckle echoes down the hallway.

  Together we clear the apartment faster than I ever could have by myself. My bedroom is empty except for the furniture that came with the apartment, and the bathroom is the last thing for me to do. I check Kip’s progress of the kitchen and living room and find he already has the majority of the items put away already. He’s on his knees with his back to me as he inspects my DVD collection as he packs them.

  “How’s it coming?”

  He turns at the sound of my voice. “I’m honestly a little concerned for your mental stability.” I give him a questioning look and he holds up a DVD. “All of your movies are fucking creepy.”

  I bust out laughing, and by the look on his face, it only adds to his concern. “I went on a drunk scary movie spree.”

  He tosses the DVDs in his hand into the box and closes it up, placing it on top of all the other boxes. Standing, we both take in the pile of all my things stacked by the door.

  “Thank you for helping me,” I say. “Now I just need to find a place to move them to.”

  He makes a face like it’s obvious. “My place.”

  I give him a dumb look. “Kip, I’m not moving in with you.”

  Holding his hands palm side up, he says, “I never asked you to.”

  “So we’re just moving all of my stuff to your place and I’ll stay there until further notice?”

  “Look, I’m not looking forward to having to pick up after you either, but you don’t have a lot of options right now.”

  It’s my turn to hold my hands up, because we both damn well know he’s been cleaning my apartment every time he comes over. “I’m not moving in with you, Kip.”

  He nods, cocking his head to the side. “Okay.”

  “Okay?”

  He shrugs. “Okay.” Opening the apartment door, he picks up two boxes and walks outside.

  “Where are you going?”

  “I’m putting my new stuff in my truck.”

  Following him, I read the hand-drawn label on the side of the boxes. “So you need a DVD collection you’re too chicken shit to watch and tiny ceramic elephant figurines?”

  “My girlfriend has issues, but this is the weird shit she likes, so I’m trying to show her how invested I am in our relationship. It’s new, but I have high hopes.” We reach his truck and he stops by the tailgate. Nodding his head in the truck’s direction, he says, “Can I get a little help?”

  I look at the tailgate and back to him. “You’re kidding, right?”

  “I can stand here all day.” Clenching my teeth, I pull the handle and let the tailgate drop with a loud bang. “Easy,” he says, placing the boxes down. “She’s a classic.”

  I fold my arms across my chest. “This is happening whether I want it to or not.”

  He stares at me blankly. “Nothing’s happening.” Then he turns around and walks back up the stairs.

  I’m so infuriated, my hands shake as I follow behind him. “I am tired of you dictating everything I do.”

  My words do their job and he stops mid-step, pivoting towards me at the top of the stairs, face contorted in disbelief. “What did you say?”

  “You’re taking away my right to choose,” I say, but this time calmer.

  His voice shakes from his own thinly veiled anger. “I am nothing like him.”

  He doesn’t have to say who for me to know who he’s talking about. My head snaps back. “I never said you were.”

  “You insinuated it. I have never forced you to do anything, and I sure as hell haven’t used you for my own benefit.”

  “No,” I say, regret already setting in. “I promise that’s not how I meant it. You are vastly different from any man I’ve ever met, let alone been with. I know you’re nothing like him.”

  He takes a deep breath and runs a hand over his mouth, finding a sense of calm he didn’t have seconds before. “I’m not trying to make you feel like your feelings don’t matter. They absolutely do. But there isn’t anything else for you to choose from right now. Later, if you decide you want something else, you will be able to do so. I’m just trying to buy you time.”

  It is the most logical option. “I don’t ever want you to feel like I’m using you.”

  His gaze softens. “You’re not. Didn’t you like waking up with me this morning?”

  “Of course, but we’re moving so fast.”

  He cups my chin in his hand. “We’re moving at whatever speed life gives us.”

  Mrs. Cecile’s door opens right as Kip leans in to kiss me and I drop my head onto his shoulder with a groan.

  “You’re moving today?” she asks, staring at us through the gap in her door.

  I lift my head and lay it against Kip’s shoulder. “I am.”

  “Well,” she says. “I’m sad to see you go.”

  I give her an incredulous look.

  Before I can reply, she says, “But I’ll be ecstatic to finally get some real sleep. Hopefully my new neighbors don’t practice gymnastics at night.” She begins to close her door before she realizes she has something else to say. “Or argue as much as you two do.” Then she slams the door.

  Kip and I bust out laughing.

  We get everything packed into the back of his truck and I leave the place I’ve called home for the last four years. I’m sadder than I thought I’d be, but Kip seems to understand why I wanted to do one final walkthrough to make sure I didn’t leave anything. Tanya says she’ll miss hearing about my life when I turn in the keys, but assures me Mrs. Cecile gives everyone just as much crap as she does me, which kind of makes me sad. I thought I was especially annoying.

  Kip and I don’t speak until I notice we’re headed in the wrong direction. “Where are we going?”

  “We’ve gone over this already. My place.”

  “But your place…oh,” I say, drawing out the sound. “We’re going to the shop.”

  He smiles, a touch nervous by my reaction. “Is that okay?”

  “Yeah,” I say, matching his smile. “I didn’t know it was finished.”

  “The space needs some work, but the apartment is done. Actually, I was finishing packing at Lilly’s when you showed up the other day.”

  When we arrive, I read the large sign hanging up in front of the building. Smiling, I look over at Kip. “Beater’s?”

  Almost like he forgot what he named his own shop, it takes him a moment to figure out what I’m talking about. “I couldn’t come up with a name. I don’t know if it’s a good name from a marketing standpoint, but hopefully my work will speak for itself.”

  He turns around back and parks in the alley, right beside a brand new staircase that leads to what I assume is the door to the apartment.

  “I didn’t think you’d want to have to walk through the shop every time you came over,” he explains, reading my thoughts.

  Kip unlocks the door and holds it open for me to go in first. The space is small even for a studio apartment, but it doesn’t feel crowded. The railing overlooking the shop is closed in, and the bedroom is built up on a platform, separating the space from the living room and kitchen. The furniture is simple, a couch with a TV mounted, and the small kitchen has all new, streamlined appliances.

  All of the details rece
de to nothing when my eyes land on the kitchenette set by the foot of the bed. The table is set with dishes and silverware on top of a white tablecloth. I walk over to it, fingering the wilting petals of the flowers in a vase in the middle of the table. This is why Kip had wanted me to come over.

  It’s like I tripped back into the water and I’m fearful of going under again, my breath suddenly fighting for space.

  Kip wraps his arms around my middle, pulling me into his chest. Running his lips up the outside of my throat, he creates goose bumps all along my arms and chest. “Why don’t you take a shower and I’ll unpack all of the boxes.”

  “It’s my weird shit. The least I can do is help.”

  He places a kiss on the curve of my neck. “Let me do this for you,” he says.

  “Stop trying to make me feel better.”

  I can feel more than see his smile. “You’re overthinking. Don’t worry about the table. I’ll burn it if that’s what you want me to do.”

  He’s at a loss for how to move past this as much as I am, because burning furniture is not going to fix it. I smile. “You know what I’ve never done? Gone camping.”

  “Really?” he says. “Even I’ve gone camping, and I missed out on a lot of childhood rites of passage.”

  “Thanks for rubbing it in,” I say jokingly.

  “Primitive camping is permitted on the hills,” he suggests.

  “Oh, I don’t know. They have all those signs about animals and snakes and possibly dying from falling off a cliff.”

  “This is getting way off track,” he says, spinning me around. “Go take a shower.”

  “All my soap and shampoo is in the truck”

  “Do you not think I have soap?”

  I scrunch up my nose. “Two-in-one shampoo doesn’t substitute as soap.”

  “I have even better,” he says, grinning where it reaches his eyes. “Three-in-one with body wash.”

  I SHUFFLE THE PAN from one hand to the other, wondering how the hell my life has turned into this. I’m bringing a homemade pan of banana pudding to Lilly’s housewarming party, not as her friend, but as Kip’s date. I have to be in an alternate universe. “Does Lilly know?”