Stay With Me

by Astfalk, Carolyn

  “Spandex, hormones, pheromones, and alcohol.”

  “You had me at Spandex. I want details.”

  Rebecca sprung from the couch and started pacing the small room. “Abby, I have no intention of discussing that with you now or ever. It’s what happened afterward.” The tears started to fall again.

  “What happened?” From Abby’s pinched expression, Rebecca thought she had finally realized the seriousness of the matter.

  “Waiting until our wedding night was important to both of us. We’ve been very careful about it. Then Saturday night we were both drinking and…” She debated how much she should say. “We used really poor judgment and exercised no self-control whatsoever.”

  Abby’s face sagged with disappointment at the lack of details. Too bad.

  “As soon as it hit us what we had done, Chris emotionally withdrew. He couldn’t get out of here fast enough. I’ve been calling and texting him since then, and he won’t respond.” Rebecca sobbed as quietly as she could into her hands so as not to draw the attention of her niece and nephew.

  Abby’s free hand rubbed her back. “You haven’t talked to him since?”

  Rebecca shook her head and quickly grabbed the box of tissues from the coffee table.

  “That numskull.”

  “Abby, what if he…if he doesn’t…he doesn’t love me anymore? The wedding …” A fresh round of tears formed, and Abby pulled her into a hug.

  Rebecca felt a tugging on her leg.

  “Aunt Becca, you crying.”

  Sweet little Emma. Rebecca pulled away from her sister and wiped her eyes. “Yes, sweetie, I’m sad.”

  “Why you sad?”

  “I feel like I’ve lost my best friend.”

  Her little niece was supposed to say something tender and insightful, wise beyond her years. Instead she said, “I poopy.”

  Rebecca sniffed and got a whiff of the horrific odor emanating from the little girl’s rear. Her eyes grew teary again from the stench.

  Abby excused herself to change the offending diaper, and Rebecca sunk back into the couch. Now that she had begun to verbalize her fears, they were all running roughshod over her wounded heart. What if Chris didn’t want her anymore? Maybe he had lost his respect for her. The wedding was less than three weeks away; everything was paid for and in place. She didn’t think she could bear the embarrassment of calling it all off.

  In a minute, Abby returned rubbing moisturizer into her clean hands. “Sorry about that. The demands of motherhood stop for nothing and no one. You’ll see.”

  “Will I?”

  “What’s that supposed to mean? Listen to me.” She waited until Rebecca lifted her teary eyes to look at her, and then Abby took both her hands in her greasy palms and squeezed them.

  “I don’t know what’s going on with Chris. You guys are both such goody-goodies it’s hard for me to imagine this happened let alone that he is acting like such a blockhead about it. But I do know this: That man loves you, and that doesn’t change overnight. I would bet his absence has more to do with him than you.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I’m guessing he initiated it, right?”

  Rebecca thought back to the shock of him climbing into the shower with her. Him leading her to her bedroom. “Yes, but I didn’t object.”

  “Doesn’t matter. He feels responsible, Rebecca. Guilty. Probably ashamed of himself. If he was sober enough to do the deed, he was sober enough to know what he was doing.”

  Rebecca’s face heated. They had known exactly what they were doing. He may not have been in condition to drive home from Craig’s, but neither of them was really drunk. The alcohol obliterated their inhibitions. No, their consciences.

  Abby squeezed her hands again. “Am I right?”

  “Yes.”

  “Then that’s it. I know it is.” Abby released her hands and scooped Ian off the floor where he teethed on Rebecca’s dirty flip-flop. “He’s had enough time for self-flagellation or whatever you guilt-ridden fish eaters do behind your hair shirts.”

  Leave it to Abby to offer comfort with a hearty side of religious slurs. She reached for her purse on the floor, pulled out her cell phone and started tapping. “This has gone on long enough. I don’t give a hoot about his guilt trip. He needs to man up and get his keister over here.”

  ***

  Father John pinned Chris with a solemn look. “Well, your first sin may have been fornication, but now I think you’ve followed it up with a total lack of charity.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Chris. You made love to your fiancée, and then you left her there when she told you she needed you. I understand you wanted some time to sort things out, but that was two days ago. You haven’t even reached out to her to see how she’s doing. Hasn’t she called you?”

  “She’s left me six messages, but I haven’t listened to them.”

  Father John massaged his brow with his fingertips. “Chris, set aside your own guilt and shame for a minute. Think about the conversations we’ve had about Rebecca and the skewed view she had of sex. She has no recollection of having two loving parents in the home, so she had no example of married love. Her father is a verbally abusive man whose streams of vile putdowns seem to center on Rebecca’s imperfections and baseless accusations of ‘whore,’ slut,’ and the like. He twisted her notions of purity, chastity, propriety, and sin at every possible turn. And to top it off, she had well-meaning abstinence educators telling her girls who committed sexual sins were no better than a used tissue or chewed up bubble gum.

  “Now, I know she’s been tearing through Theology of the Body books, and you’ve had a tremendous positive influence on her, but think about this from her perspective. She finally caves. Finally falls. And instead of you holding each other up, you leave her even when she begs you to stay. How do you think that made her feel?”

  Chris couldn’t even meet Father John’s eyes. Elbows resting on his knees, he trained his eyes on the carpet and bit back a four-letter word. Well, he tried, and then he let it fly as he threw his baseball cap to the floor and crushed it under his shoe. Kicking the chair or knocking a stack of papers off the desk would have been more satisfying, but he couldn’t do that to Father John.

  “How could I be such a thoughtless, selfish jackass?”

  Father John waited a beat. “Is that a rhetorical question?”

  “Not really. Am I going to be a terrible husband? Maybe I’m not what she needs. What if I’m a selfish jerk?”

  “I think you’re doing exactly the right thing. I hear marriage is an excellent cure for selfishness. Add a couple kids or three or more, and it gets even better.”

  Chris didn’t say anything as he picked his flattened cap off the floor and tried to reshape it.

  Father John sighed. “Do you still love her?”

  “Yes, of course, I do.”

  “Do you intend to go through with the marriage?”

  “Yes. If Saturday night had happened after our wedding, you’d be looking at the happiest man in the world.”

  “I absolved you a half hour ago. You need to do your penance, and you need to forgive yourself and Rebecca, although I think you’ve decided to take all the blame on this. You need to move forward. You need to be there for her. Show her the kind of husband you intend to be. Are you going to up and leave every time there’s trouble? Because this won’t be the last time. I dare say it won’t be the last time you struggle with sexual sin, even in marriage. Or are you going to stay with her and get through things together?”

  Chris’s phone buzzed in his pocket.

  “I think you should look at this one.”

  Chris lifted his hip and slid the phone from its holster. He swiped at it a couple of times and gave a half grin. “It’s from Rebecca’s sister, Abby. She says, ‘Call my sister within the next ten minutes or I’m taking a contract out on you. And not on your head.’”

  Father John recoiled. “Ouch.”

  “Classic Abb
y.”

  “I’ve got to get over to the school. You can have the office for a few minutes. Call Rebecca, and let Erica know when you leave.”

  “Thanks, Father.”

  “No problem.” The door shut halfway and then reopened as Father John poked his head back in. “Chris, I know you’ve got your own troubles, but if you could spare some prayers for Kimberly, I’d appreciate it. They’re taking her off the ventilator today.”

  The door closed with a click, and Chris leaned back in his chair. Damn, he really was selfish. Here they’d spent all morning talking about his problems and what were they compared to a young woman’s life?

  He swiped some more at his phone and in seconds Rebecca’s voice filled his ears. A wave of calm swept over him. “Rebecca, we need to talk. Where are you?”

  ***

  “Can I come in?”

  “Of course.”

  The tears already leaked from her eyes, and they welled in his eyes, too. Once she closed the door behind him, he pulled her close to him, letting her cry against his chest while his tears fell into her hair.

  After a few minutes, he took her by the hand and guided her to the couch, taking a seat across from her on her coffee table.

  “How do we start?” she asked, clearing her throat and wiping the tears from her cheeks.

  He released his hand from hers and cupped her face in his hands. He stared into her teary, reddened eyes, and his gaze lingered as he aimed straight through to her soul.

  “Like this.” He leaned in and kissed her. Without rekindling the unfettered desire that had gotten them into trouble, he reassured her neither his love nor his desire for her had wavered one bit. She wasn’t a wadded up tissue or old gum or whatever other ridiculous thing someone said. She was as beautiful and precious to him as ever.

  Would it be too much if he got down on his knees? He thought about how he had treated her, whipping the blanket at her and storming out like a petulant child. No, it might not be enough. The knot in his gut tightened. He’d be lucky if she heard him out, let alone forgave him.

  He held onto her hands again and shifted onto his knees in front of her before he began a litany of mea culpas he had rehearsed on the way there.

  “I’m sorry I had too much to drink. I’m sorry I asked you to come get me. I’m sorry all I could think of when I saw you was, well, what we ended up doing. I’m sorry I didn’t just put out a towel for you like you asked. I’m sorry I got into the shower with you. I’m sorry that at the half dozen or so chances I had to stop that I didn’t. I’m sorry that I was so curt with you when it was over. I’m sorry I walked out on you when you begged me to stay. I’m sorry I didn’t answer your calls. I’m sorry I didn’t listen to your messages. I’m sorry for being so selfish—I didn’t even think about how you felt.” He stopped and took a breath, giving her a sad smile. “I’m sorry this will detract from our wedding night. I’m sorry we’re going to carry the consequences of this with us into marriage.” He realized this last one was the biggie. The one that undermined everything they had built their relationship on. “I’m sorry I betrayed your trust. Please forgive me.”

  Her chest rose and fell with a deep breath. She shut her eyes for a second and reopened them. “I do.”

  An invisible load lifted from his shoulders. She forgave him. It was more than he deserved.

  “Now it’s my turn. I’m sorry I didn’t change my clothes before I came to get you. I’m sorry I didn’t get my own darn towel. I’m sorry I didn’t stop things.”

  “That’s it? Your list is a whole lot shorter than mine.” He smiled, and at last she smiled back.

  She squeezed his hands tightly and tugged them, helping to pull him up off of his knees and back into a sitting position. “Chris, it’s not like we’re the first couple who have ever given in to temptation. After you left, I looked at my chart, and I think I know what was going on.”

  Her chart? What did that have to do with anything? “What do you mean?”

  “I know I’m still kind of new to the charting, but I think I was ovulating, which would explain why my libido was in overdrive and probably why yours was, too. Add that to the fact the beer impaired your judgment, Lady Godiva impaired mine, and I sashayed around here in Spandex. It was a recipe for—well, I hate to call it a disaster. Makes sense though, doesn’t it?”

  Chris raked his hand through his hair. “It does. But if you were ovulating, then…”

  “I could be pregnant. It’s a possibility. We’ll know in a couple of weeks.”

  He leaned back, rubbed his palms up and down his thighs, and shook his head. “I never thought I’d get myself in this position. Worrying about a pregnancy.”

  Compassion filled her eyes. “It’s only a few weeks until the wedding. Everyone would think it was a honeymoon baby.”

  He nodded his head, but he couldn’t speak. He knew they would love and cherish any and every child they conceived no matter the circumstances, but this was not how he wanted it to happen. He took a deep breath and let it out slowly, trying to ignore the new ache in his chest. Nothing could be done about it now.

  “Are you going to be okay here tonight? I have to take care of some things today and run into work, but I can come back and stay if you want. On the couch.”

  “I’m fine. It was just Saturday night. It felt like…” She looked down and bit her lip.

  “Rebecca?” He had hurt her so much. He had been so wrapped up in his own shame that he’d been oblivious to the pain he’d inflicted.

  “It felt like a one-night stand when you left. Like you got what you were after, and you were done with me. That’s why I needed you to stay.”

  Unbelievable. “Rebecca,” he said as he smoothed her hair with his hand. “How could you think that?”

  “I know. It’s not what I thought. It’s what I felt. And without you here to contradict it…it…it just hurt is all.”

  “I should have looked at it from your point of view. I’m sorry. I was so disappointed in myself—so angry with myself. I mean, we wait twenty-four years or whatever and then three weeks before the wedding? Really? I couldn’t stand being in my own skin, and I had to get out. But believe me, please, when I tell you that when we made love, the only thought in my mind was that I love you. I guess by definition we used each other, but that was not my intention at all. I swear. I love you, and I was sorely misguided, but I wanted to give myself to you and be one with you because I love you so much.”

  “I know. I do believe you. It’s all you kept saying the whole time. You must’ve said it, like, a dozen times.”

  Chris moved next to her on the couch and pulled her against him so that she could lay her head against his chest.

  “I want you to know I can’t wait to be your husband and not just because of the sex, but because I truly love you, and I want to spend my life with you.”

  He loved the feel of her hand rubbing circles on his chest. When she stopped he looked down at her, and she smiled. “Our honeymoon is going to be a lot of fun, isn’t it?”

  “Mmmm…I think so. To say I’m looking forward to it would be a gross understatement.” He enjoyed the feel and scent of her hair under his chin. “You know, morality aside, if you had asked me before Saturday, I would have thought that, uh, what we did would take the edge off. Sort of like a snack before dinner.”

  Rebecca amazed him by finishing his thought. “But it was more like an appetizer. The kind that makes you realize how hungry you really are.”

  “Exactly.” He enunciated every syllable for emphasis. “So it’s not just me, huh?”

  “Nope. Not just you. It was a mistake in a lot of ways.” She leaned back, and he was able to look into those warm, brown eyes that he loved so well. “You know, it wasn’t all your fault. I did nothing to discourage you. I have no doubt that if I had asked you to stop you would have. I encouraged you, maybe not with words, but in every other way.”

  He shrugged. “I’m supposed to honor and protect you, not lead you in
to sin.”

  “That goes for me, too. You know, after she sent you that text threatening you with castration, my crazy sister actually said something kind of profound.”

  Chris cocked an eyebrow. Abby was intelligent, but he had yet to hear her say anything that indicated serious introspection.

  “I know what you’re thinking, but I think she hit the nail on the head with this.”

  Rebecca moved over to the coffee table where Chris had been so they could see eye-to-eye again. “Let me think of how she put it.”

  He waited while she gathered her thoughts.

  “She said that marriage isn’t the happily ever after. It’s the rocky, brush-covered path that’ll get you there. You’re going to trip and fall. You might even take a side trail that gets you lost and confused and you’ll have to fight your way back. Every last vice, fault, and rough edge will be exposed, but you’ll never have to travel alone, and if you hang in there it’ll perfect you like a refiner’s fire.”

  “Abby said that?” He was incredulous; he couldn’t help it.

  Rebecca laughed. “Yes. After I confirmed she wasn’t body snatched, I kissed her. I’ve been so focused on the wedding and our wedding night that I kind of forgot the purpose of the whole thing. It breaks my heart to think I’m going to hurt you and disappoint you a thousand times over, but I know I will. And you will. But I love you with all my heart, and I’m going to promise before God and our families and friends that I will forever. This,” she said as she gestured around them, “these last few days, doesn’t mean we’ve made a fatal error. We screwed up. We go to confession, and we get back up and dust ourselves off and keep moving in the right direction.”

  Profound gratitude for Rebecca and for a God who brought them together filled his chest. He moved forward in his seat and taking hold of her hands, pulled her into his lap.

  “How did you know that was exactly what I needed to hear?”

  She smiled and kissed his cheek, then his ear, and his neck. “Because I needed to hear it, too.”

  “The wedding night’s going to be . . . different.” He rubbed her back and tried to make sense of his muddled feelings. “I know we’re forgiven, but I still feel—”