by A. R. Hadley
“Yes. And that’s why this dream, or the feelings it momentarily leaves you with, can’t change the really important stuff.”
After a short pause and a sharp inhale, she felt confident to begin. “My mother had a dollhouse.” Audrey smiled, remembering how happy she was every time she saw it. “It was old and made of wood but well cared for, and it once belonged to my grandmother. It had a second story and a set of stairs of course. One wall was missing. It was open on purpose.”
Audrey paused, letting that sink in a moment.
“Mom liked to fill it with items she picked up at garage sales. It had such an eclectic mix of things. Tiny playing cards, and I mean miniscule.” Audrey gestured. “A little cast iron stove. Plastic beds. A toilet. Area rugs.” Audrey laughed. “Trolls she’d probably kept from my old Happy Meals. And…” Audrey chewed on a fingernail. “I still have it … but I … I have boys.”
“You thought it inappropriate they play with a dollhouse?”
Audrey shrugged. “My husband did. We kept it in the attic after she passed. I still have it up there now … covered in plastic.”
But if it was abandoned…?
Who pulled the strings? Who moved all the little people around? And the furniture? Who made sense of everything?
“Maybe it's time you take it out. Dust it off.”
“No, the boys are too ... they wouldn't be interested in it now. I don’t know. Maybe Rick…”
“Not for the boys, Audrey. I’m suggesting you take it out for you.”
“Grown women don't play with dolls.”
“Do grown women get bound and gagged and beaten — because they choose to be dominated? They choose to serve.”
Audrey felt her eyes enlarge to moons. Her heart rate increased.
“You choose your happy. It's not based off someone else's idea of the concept. Not even mine.” The therapist scribbled some notes down.
Audrey didn’t think she was ready to speak.
“I see I’ve shocked you.”
“I’m just… I never thought of it like that.” Audrey swallowed. “The comparison you made. I know submitting was my choice. And I know what some people’s perceptions might be about kink. But the dollhouse seemed like something else … and it’s the same.”
Audrey was surprised by the invisible rules she still followed. Rules that meant she refused her own happiness and stood in her own way. No one had actually told her playing with the dollhouse would’ve been silly or stupid. She'd taken strips of supposed judgment and woven together a quilt of conformity.
Her mother had found joy from the house and proudly kept it on display. And Audrey had loved that about her.
Why would it be any different if Audrey did the same?
“Our time is almost up, but I have something I’d like you to think about before the next session. I’m going to read a poem I think you’ll appreciate. A client wrote it, and he gave me permission to share it.”
The therapist thumbed through her phone, focused on the screen, and cleared her throat. “‘If love was what we wanted it to be, what we set out for it to be — if it was perfect, if we never knew pain — we wouldn’t come to know love in its purest, rawest form.
“‘The people who say love does not or should not hurt — they’re motherfucking liars. The people who say love doesn’t live inside scars and welts and bruises … the ones who say love doesn’t roam free inside chains and bounds and ties or collars … the ones who say it doesn’t exist inside a beautiful place like this dungeon—’”
Audrey’s loud intake of breath caused the therapist to pause the recital, but then she started again.
“‘—they disguise fear with societal blinders. And they live without ever knowing what it’s like on the other side of the rainbow.’”
The therapist removed her glasses and set the phone down. “Don’t live by your ex-husband’s so-called rules. You don’t even have to live by Gavin’s. And don’t invent ones you think come from other people, Audrey.”
The therapist leaned forward. Her eyes grew wide, and her lips curved. “Break them.”
34
“I imagine things I want to say to him and not what you might think.”
“I don't have expectations, Audrey,” the therapist countered.
“I mean, isn't it weird that after a year of not seeing him, I think about lying next to him and telling him about how Connor's teeth had zero cavities and how Daisy needed a filling and complained about the disgusting toothpaste?”
Audrey had started assisting at a pediatric dental office in St. Petersburg, and she felt the change in atmosphere and cities and houses in every cell of her body. The former office stress, when working for Dr. Marsha, was absent. The new dentist was fabulous with kids.
Many things had informed Audrey’s decision to relocate: Dell lived here … her therapist’s main office was in nearby Tampa … the beautiful beaches … and she’d talked her dad into moving too. The job was icing on the cake.
“How often do you think about Gavin? I assume the him you speak of is Gavin.”
“You're asking the wrong question.”
“What's the right question?”
“How often do I not think about him.”
After the accident and the hospital and the standing outside of the dungeon with the gift for Gavin and Michael, Audrey still had never made contact. Neither of them had. It was hard to believe it had been over a year. The ache ever-present in her chest, the love she had for him that felt like it might never die, sometimes made it feel like only weeks had passed.
Kate was a different story, though.
But Audrey didn't want to lead Kate on. And she didn't want any leads to the dungeon. No strings. No temptations. And even though Audrey wasn't bisexual, Kate's infectious personality — her glow, her ease, and her fucking beautiful tits — were all a distraction and a direct line to Gavin and addiction and a lifestyle she couldn’t fully immerse herself in.
Maybe Kate and Audrey could still be friends … the way they had been.
No, they couldn’t.
But she missed Kitty Kate.
Missed the nights of getting fixed up and going out. The rides in the cherry-red Mustang. Their sordid talks about men and women.
Kate had said she understood why Audrey had to stop going to Bodhi. But the guilt of initially severing ties with Kate, shortly after Gavin removed Audrey’s collar, hadn't left. And the truth was — they were friends, whether Audrey could admit it or not. They’d been texting almost daily since Michael had gone into the hospital, talked on the phone too, often bantering like schoolgirls.
Kate wasn’t just a friend — she was family. Audrey’s mind wandered to a recent exchange…
Kate: Peyton asked me to move in with him.
Audrey: And?
Kate: I said yes. But what if it’s a risk?
Audrey: Kate Tracy thinks in terms of risk??
Kate: Brat!
Audrey: Lol
Kate: I guess I still have a little bit of that traditional girl left in me.
Audrey: WTF?
Kate: Why does it feel different if I live with him? It’s the same. We’re the same. He still wants us both to have play partners. I do too. Except we live together…
Audrey: You fear losing him.
Kate: I never did before. I trust his love. He loves me and only one other.
Kate: You there?
Audrey: Yes. You mean Gavin.
Kate: You said the G word.
Audrey: We’re not supposed to be talking about this.
Kate: I break rules.
Audrey: No shit.
Kate: Peyton isn’t the only one who loves two people at the same time. Wants them the same…
“Who are you thinking of now?” the therapist asked.
Audrey snapped back to the present and felt her cheeks blush. “Kate.”
She loved Kate, but she didn't love Kate. Sharing her body would only complicate things. It wouldn't be fai
r. But what was ever fair in life? Or maybe it was opening herself up to any and every possibility that would complicate things.
Kate: It hasn’t changed in all this time. I still want to fuck you. So many things I want to do to you and with you. I can't not tell you anymore. And this will be the only time I mention it.
Audrey: God, Kate.
Kate: I know. I ache for you.
Audrey: I miss you. I miss him. I’m still working things out.
Kate: I love you.
Audrey: It will hurt.
Kate: Being without you hurts too.
Audrey: You have me. We talk all the time.
Kate: I have the pieces you choose to share with me. I want all of you.
“You’re still in contact?”
“We text and talk on the phone.”
“You haven’t seen her? Why?”
“She wants us to be … together.”
“And what do you want? Do you want the fantasy, Audrey? Or do you truly yearn for Kate because she’s Kate? It’s not her gender that’s the issue here.”
“I want simple. I want Gavin. I’m still in love with him. I want him in my home … my bed. How can I explain all this to my children? What if I pour my heart out to him and he still doesn’t want to be part of my mom life? What if he’s moved on?”
“That’s too many questions to dissect all at once. Let’s go back to Kate. One thing at a time.”
Audrey exhaled.
“Would you sleep with Kate if you could manage your emotions and have an open relationship?”
“I don’t want to lead her on. I'm not poly. I can't share like that. Can't love like that.”
“Can't or don't want to?”
“Both.”
“But you want to be with Kate? Sexually?”
Audrey nodded, reminding herself to breathe.
“Say it out loud,” the therapist said.
“Why?”
“Have you ever said it out loud?”
“Well, no.”
“Then tell me here and now what you feel. Not fantasy. What you really desire.”
Audrey folded in on herself, like one of those long beach chairs she used to sit on as a girl. The top and bottom up, meeting in the middle, making a tent, keeping her from the world. She wanted the chair to swallow her excuses.
Even though the sex therapist had probably heard plenty of salacious tales of lust and songs of love inside these four walls, these were still Audrey’s thoughts she wanted. Audrey’s deepest and most intimate desires. No one owned her thoughts or commanded them.
Only … Gavin.
“Tell me. Once and for all. You’d be surprised how hearing the words will make you feel. This isn’t for my benefit.”
“I think about her. I always have. From the moment we met, she was so open and free. She flirted with me in a way that never made me feel…” dirty or shameful but made me feel alive. Audrey exhaled. “The first time I saw her naked…” I wanted to taste her breasts, feel them, needed her lips on my skin. Audrey shivered. “I wanted someone to push me, to tell me what to do to her or for her. Or I wanted Kate to be the one to control me. But we were friends first. We are friends. And I feel like I’m…” a bad person. “Like there’s something wrong with me for wanting her body, for objectifying her.”
Except … she did want to be with Kate because she was Kate.
“Do you love her?”
“Yes,” Audrey said without hesitation. “But it’s different. It’s not what I feel for Gavin.”
“Why do you compare one love to another? Nothing should feel the same as what you feel for Gavin, but that doesn’t mean there isn’t room in your heart for two or three or four. You love your children. You love your father. I venture to say you even have love for Dell in there somewhere too. There are four kinds of love, and there’s many in our lives who fall into each type. Not just one. Why isn’t there room for Kate?”
“There is room for her. I said I love her.”
“And fucking Kate will change that?”
“No! Fucking Kate will not change that.”
The therapist smirked, looking as if she reached the conclusion she was after. “Maybe you are poly, Audrey.”
35
Walking the beach alone at sunset had become a thing. Audrey had been frequenting the west-coast shores ever since she’d moved.
Her ex had the boys, and tonight she had the sunset, the white sand, and the people taking pictures of the disappearing globe. This beach wasn’t the one she normally visited. This one was a little farther north and less crowded.
Up ahead, though, there was quite a pack of what looked to be about twenty or twenty-five people posing, doing yoga.
The scene played out like a panorama of a movie — widescreen edition.
Flip-flops in hand, Audrey walked near the water, each step bringing her closer to the group … closer to their teacher: a man wearing a baseball cap and shorts and a tight-fitting black T-shirt. His arms drew her attention. The short-sleeved cuffs hugged them. His biceps were as large as her thighs and tanned.
Her eyes began to burn. Something familiar settled over her soul, embracing her the way nothing else could. And so … Audrey glanced away from the man who reminded her of the one person she had never forgotten. Nor ever would. The picturesque clouds and the gentle breeze needed to take away the nostalgia seeping through her veins.
She hadn’t thought about him in … what? Hours…
The crowd was older. Baby boomers keeping in shape, maybe also trying to lose weight. And as she passed directly behind the teacher, the man with the Tampa Bay Rays cap, it was the sound of his voice, not his magnificent biceps, that stopped her in her tracks.
His voice and its timbre made it impossible for those boomers not to follow him, to hang on every word he said, and it made it impossible for Audrey to deny the truth of who he was.
He held a pose, but what really struck Audrey was his posture.
It couldn’t be… Teaching fucking yoga?
Like always — and a part of Audrey remained in denial it was really him — she knew he knew she was there, frozen and watching him.
“Would you like to join us?” he called out, not turning around while holding his stance.
Audrey tried to resume walking, but the sand felt like mud. Her throat had crud stuck in it, and her armpits and palms began to sweat — not from the early-evening Florida heat.
“First class is free,” he said.
Audrey decided he didn't know who she was. He’d merely sensed a person. The son-of-a-bitch was always on alert.
Keep going. He doesn't know it's you.
But forces outside herself were at work, and even though she’d managed to take a few steps, she was overcome with the urge to look at him again. She needed to see his face, not just his backside. She needed absolute confirmation her mind wasn't playing tricks.
The man had shifted as well. Left leg bent at a perfect angle, those same toes in the sand, his right leg stretched behind him, upper body straight. An arm to the sky. Chest out. His eyes forward…
The eyes were the confirmation.
And as those unmistakable Van Gogh blues locked onto her chestnut browns, a change occurred. Like a man who had once been blinded could suddenly see. The apostle Paul on the road to Damascus.
He blinked.
Broke Sun Salutation.
Blinked.
Fell to his knees. Rubbed his eyes. Retrained them on her. Then blinked again.
He excused himself from his class and took two tentative steps forward, still appearing to be adjusting to a brilliant light he both couldn't bear and needed to save his life.
Audrey took a step backward for each of his forward until she was shin deep in the salty water. Balmy waves caressed her skin.
He wiped a palm over his face, then cleared his throat. “How long has it been?”
“Almost two years,” she whispered.
“Audrey,” he said and stepped forwar
d, and she stepped back. A wave came and threw her off balance. He caught her wobbly torso on instinct, and the class gasped, then clapped.
They both smiled.
“My God, you look beautiful.”
“You look…” She grinned and touched the rim of his cap. “I didn’t know you were a fan.”
They stood a foot apart now with hands at their sides.
“Keeps the sweat out of my eyes.”
“You never had an issue with sweat that I recall.”
“No,” he said, cocking his head, the blue of his eyes twinkling from the pink-and-purple-and-orange skies, from the light of the disappearing sun. “But this is a different kind of audience.”
“Do you still entertain that other audience?” She cleared her throat. “I'm sorry.” She shook her head. “I need to go. You have a class.”
“Things are... I'm part of my grandchild's life, Audrey. He’s my reason now … after you.”
“Don't, Gavin.”
“You were always my reason.”
“Then why haven’t you—?”
“Called? Swept you off your feet? Rode up to your house on a white horse or in a limousine with a rose between my teeth?”
“You have nice teeth.” She smiled. “And I don’t remember you being this funny.”
He glanced away, and when he looked back, his face was placid. His Adam’s apple bobbed. “I'm not a husband.”
“I have to go,” she said but didn't mean it. Therapy sessions and living again — really living — had taught her not to walk away from difficult conversations. “No. You know what? I don't. I'll wait. Finish your class, then we can talk.”
“A switch now?” He raised an eyebrow. “Giving me orders.” He grinned, then returned to the yoga.
She watched him with his students. Watched those fucking arms and hands. The way he carried himself told her everything there was to know about him. It didn’t matter if she’d just found out he was a baseball fan.
Gavin Sellers:
confident
daring
absolute
fearless
not a husband…
“Walk with me,” he said several minutes later, after he'd dismissed the class.