“Raise your arms and close your eyes.” Jack’s hushed words were warm as they brushed the slope of my shoulder.
I complied without a single word, savoring the happiness that radiated from somewhere deep within.
He slid his fingers underneath the hem of my black cotton shirt. He lifted it up while tracing his fingers deliciously along my skin. I shivered in response and Jack paused.
“Please don’t stop,” I begged.
Jack chuckled, vibrating his body against mine in the process, but I kept my eyes closed and my arms raised. In one swift movement, Jack removed the obstructing shirt from my body.
I reached back with my arms and encircled them around Jack’s neck, pulling his chest flush with my mostly naked back. Jack brought his hands around my stomach to cup my breasts, his fingers gently exploring the satin of my pale pink bra.
“I like this color,” he whispered. “Even your simplest choices are sexy.” He squeezed both sides of my chest with a tantalizing amount of pressure. “Your breasts are beautiful.”
“Thank you,” I replied.
He caressed me for a few precious moments, and I enjoyed the pleasure of his skilled touch. Gradually, his hands moved down to the waistband of my jeans.
“Are you ready for me to see what’s under here?”
I opened my eyes. “I am.”
Jack circled around to my front, and I brought my hands down and undid my button and zipper. He repositioned his hands on the curve of my hips and pulled us toward the bed. He took a seat on the edge of the mattress and guided me to stand between his thighs before sliding my pants down my legs. I placed a hand on his shoulder for balance as I stepped from the denim.
He ran his hands over and up my legs. His thumbs soon came to rest on my matching pink satin panties. “You never disappoint me,” he said affectionately. “In fact, I think you’re spoiling me.”
He leaned forward and kissed my stomach. It was a foreign sensation, and I couldn’t recall anyone doing this to me before. His kisses were cool against my warm skin, and I enjoyed his slow movements and loving attention.
I wanted so much to do something new for him and was suddenly inspired. I slid my hand from his shoulder to skim my fingers along his strong jaw.
“Jack?”
“Yes,” he murmured just before allowing his tongue to explore my navel.
“I’m ready.”
“Ready for what?” He punctuated his question with a pleasant nip of my skin.
“To tell you my story.”
Jack slowed his kisses, lingering in place for a second or two. He gave me one final kiss on my abdomen before pulling down my underwear. He rose from the bed, reached behind me and unclasped my bra. It fell to the floor.
“Are you ready to tell me now?”
I nodded, my gaze locked onto his dark eyes. I cupped his cheek in my hand. My heart was pounding, but whether it was from arousal or nervousness I couldn’t tell.
“It will change how you think about my family. About me.”
Jack kept his eyes locked on mine, but he pulled my hand away from his face and kissed my palm. “Something tells me I’ll only admire you more.”
We stood still for a few moments, and in that time I felt our emotional bond grow more secure.
“You should know these things before we talk to Robert,” I explained. “I want you to know what happened.”
“Come lie down, let me hold you, and you can tell me everything you want me to know.”
I nodded and Jack held my hand as I situated myself on the bed. He stepped over to the dimmer switch and dialed the lighting down to its lowest level. He walked around to his side of the bed and stripped off his underwear before joining me under the cool sheets. I turned on my side to face him, the covers resting comfortably on my hips.
Jack reached over to pull the blankets up my body, but I set my hand on his arm. “I’m fine.”
He nodded and settled himself on his side. Our legs sought contact, and I began to massage Jack’s forearm in appreciation and contemplation. I wanted to gather my thoughts and figure out how to begin. The silence between us dragged on, although not uncomfortably.
Jack ended my deliberations and offered me a launching pad for our conversation when he asked, “How long were your parents married?”
That was a simple question to answer, and I was grateful to Jack for easing me into things. “Almost thirteen years.”
“And you’re their only child?”
I nodded.
“That was a good choice on their part,” Jack observed. “There was no way any sibling could hold a candle to their big sister.”
I rolled my eyes, but thanked him for the compliment.
“My mom convinced Robert to have a vasectomy when I was three. Rumor has it she sensed the divorce would happen. I guess she wanted to make sure I was the only heir.”
Jack laughed at this. “That was really clever of her.”
I smiled, too. No other woman had ever held so much power over Robert Brighton.
“Where is your mother now? Did she remarry later on?”
“No,” I replied. “She’s dead.”
Any remaining traces of humor vanished from Jack’s expression, and he maneuvered his arm away from my caresses to entwine his fingers with mine.
“I’m sorry, Kathleen.”
I shrugged. It was a matter of time before the emotional dam broke. The crying was all but inevitable, but I did my best to keep my breathing slow and measured. It was easier to keep the tears at bay when I did so.
“I’m afraid that’s part of my story,” I said.
“It’s all right. Take your time.” Jack squeezed my hand.
“I don’t speak of it,” I whispered. “Not even a therapist could get it from me. I’m not sure I can put it all into words.”
“It’s up to you, Kathleen.”
I continued on before I could think about it too much. “I was used to their fighting. And as awful as that was, it rarely involved me. I had a huge closet in my room. Over time, I figured the space out pretty well. As long as I had a place for a lamp, blankets, books and a small stash of snacks, I could disappear for hours. Between closing my bedroom door and the closet door, I could muffle ninety percent of the noise.”
“Didn’t they know how upsetting it was for you?”
“I doubt it. They were both drunk, a lot, and they enabled one another’s bad habits. I don’t think they were coherent enough to think about what I was up to.”
I took another break, and Jack leaned over and kissed my forehead. When he pulled back, I dove back in.
“When I turned ten the fighting got really bad. Considering how numb I was to it by then, that’s saying something.” I tried to make the story as light as I could, but Jack’s face was unyielding in its seriousness. I looked over at his pillow to focus on getting the words out without succumbing to the sadness.
“Robert went away for a few days. I remembered it because it was such a relief. I didn’t have to worry about when the next fight was going to break out. As long as he was away, it would be fine. But when he returned, the house was too quiet. I didn’t know what the hell was going on.” I glanced at Jack with hesitation.
“It sounds like the calm before the storm,” Jack said.
I nodded. “One morning, my mom left home. Before she went out the door, she told me Robert was sleeping, and I needed to be as quiet as I could. That wasn’t a problem because by this point in my life, the last thing I ever wanted to do was draw attention to myself. A few hours later, the phone started ringing. I was terrified because there was a phone in the room on Robert’s bedside table. I ran like hell to answer it before it woke him.” I halted my recollections to wipe a stray tear from my eye.
“Do you want a sip of water?” Jack asked with concern.
“No, thank you,” I answered. “But I think I’m going to sit up for this next part.”
At this, Jack rose up and positioned himself so that his
back was against the headboard. He beckoned me to rest between his legs and drew me in to recline on his chest. He draped himself loosely around me, securing me in his arms without closing in. I allowed myself the luxury of enjoying the tranquility of his comfort.
“Who was on the line?”
“I don’t know exactly. A woman. She asked to speak to Robert, and I told her he wasn’t able to come to the phone. She wouldn’t take no for an answer, insisted on speaking to him, and when I resisted, she told me she was calling from a hospital and it was an emergency.”
Jack’s embrace strengthened around me.
“The last thing I wanted to do was wake him up. But somehow I managed to do it.”
“How did he react?”
“Surprisingly well. When his eyes opened, I handed him the receiver and ran away. I returned to the living room and hoped that was the end of it.”
Jack leaned forward and placed several tender kisses on my shoulder. His gentle efforts soothed me.
“A little while later, Robert walked into the living room. He was dressed and he told me we had to go over to the Willamette Valley. That my mom was in the hospital there.”
“What was your mom doing so far from home?”
“At the time, Robert wouldn’t tell me. I found out later that she had been discovered unconscious in her car, sitting on the side of the highway. She’d taken an entire bottle of sleeping pills. A passerby decided to pull over and check on the car. If they hadn’t, she probably would have died that morning.”
Jack wove his fingers into my hair and delicately stroked my scalp.
“We were at the hospital all afternoon, but Robert wouldn’t allow me to see my mom or go in her room. So he stayed with her while I wandered around. I walked through the whole building several times. I’d never been there before, but I knew the whole place by the time we finally left. On the way home, he stopped at one of our favorite restaurants, but we didn’t stay to eat. Robert ordered something to go and then he brought me home. We ate dinner and afterward he told me that he was divorcing my mother. I should have seen it coming, but I didn’t. I was completely surprised. He sent me off to bed, and I cried myself to sleep.”
Jack froze his movements, and I wondered if he’d had a similar conversation with Heide. While I was certain that conversation was a painful one for both Jack and Heide, I was not convinced that same conversation with me had been difficult for my father.
“It was summer and Robert stayed home with me for the next few days, but he was busy. Preparing to leave.” I spat the words and took a moment to settle my anger.
“He left the house one afternoon, and a short time later my mother came home. By herself. She went straight to their bedroom and shut herself inside.”
“No one was looking after her?” Jack sounded perplexed.
I shook my head in response.
“I knocked on her door more than once that evening, but she didn’t answer me. It never occurred to me to try turning the doorknob.” I shuddered at this admission before moving forward.
“I waited for a long time, but it was getting late. I knew how to cook a few basic things for myself so I finally made some dinner. I tried to bring some to her, but she wouldn’t open the door. I put her plate back on the kitchen table and took my food to the living room. I remembered turning on the TV so there was some noise to drown out the silence. I sat on the sofa and was in the middle of taking a bite when this god-awful loud noise went off in the house. It startled me so much that I bit my tongue and dropped my dinner on the floor. The pain was intense, and I was bleeding so I ran to get my mom. I didn’t bother to knock on the door. I just burst into the room.”
I stopped speaking, having become aware I had pulled away from Jack. I was still sitting between his legs, but was ramrod straight and disengaged from his protection. I glanced over my shoulder to look at him and saw the dawning realization of horror in his eyes. There was no going back now.
“She shot herself. In the heart.”
“Jesus Christ,” he uttered.
“She died almost immediately.” My eyes strayed toward the carpet. “I recognized the gun. Robert kept it in his bedside table. Mom had told me to stay away from it, and I always did.”
Jack was silent, and eerily motionless. I felt compelled to fill the dreadful silence.
“I didn’t know where Robert had gone. I had no idea how to get a hold of him. I pulled the phone from his bedside table as far as the cord would let me. I knew my mother was dead, but I had this crazy thought that if I turned my back, she would sit up and follow me. So I sat across the room from her body and called Theresa Mayfair. I don’t know what I said to her, but she showed up to our house, wearing a red bathrobe and rollers in her hair. I remember feeling bad for making her come over in her pajamas.”
I took a deep breath as Jack continued to sit in silence. “You’ve met Theresa, right?” Somehow, it was vital for me to confirm this with Jack. Or perhaps it was just vital to hear his voice.
“Yes,” he whispered.
“She took me to the living room and held me on her lap while her husband called the police. There was a lot of activity, but I tuned it all out. Theresa held me and tended to my injured mouth. I was calm, but when Robert burst into the house, I lost it. He was drunk and crazy looking. I started screaming my head off and clung to Theresa for dear life.”
“Why?” Jack’s voice was full of strained emotion, and as I formulated an answer, I worried about the toll my memories were taking on him.
“I was terrified he was going to blame me. It was my responsibility to look after my mother and I failed. Robert tried to pull me from Theresa’s arms and I panicked. I fought him because I got it in my head that he was going to hurt me. I kicked and punched and yelled even louder. Theresa pushed Robert away and took me to her house. She wouldn’t let him see me until he sobered up.”
Having recalled the incident for the first time in decades, I was overcome by weariness. “There’s not much more I can share about that night. Suffice it to say, things between Robert and me have been supremely fucked up ever since.”
Jack’s expression was flooded by a variety of emotions.
I had never seen him so affected, and I felt guilty for being the source of his distress. “I’m sorry, Jack. Maybe I should have thought this through before telling you. It was impulsive.”
He shook his head. “Please don’t apologize. I know that wasn’t easy for you to share.”
“I’ve told you something deeply personal about me, but also about my father. Our boss. I’ve entrusted all of this to you. Perhaps that isn’t fair.”
“Are you having regrets?”
“Not on my account. All I ask is that you keep this between us. Forever.”
“I can do that.”
“Thank you. Did I ruin our evening?”
“No.”
“Will you hold me now?”
“I will hold you anytime you ask.”
We continued to stare at one another, but neither of us made a move. Finally, I shifted on the mattress. “I’ll get the light.”
Jack gently grabbed my wrist. “There’s so much I want to say to you, Kathleen. I just don’t have the words right now.”
“I get it,” I said, trying to reassure him. “I lived it and look how long it’s taken me to find the words.” A new realization dawned on me then, and it must have registered on my face.
“What is it?” Jack asked me with urgency.
“I can’t believe I’m not crying right now,” I confessed. “I must be more fucked up than I thought.”
“You are not fucked up. You’re the strongest person I’ve ever known.”
IN THE wake of reliving my mother’s death, it was a struggle for us to ease back into one another’s company.
I believed Jack when he told me he lacked the words to express his feelings. I was concerned for him, but thankful he was the one I’d chosen to say these things to. Even so, we needed to move away from t
he subject of my childhood.
“Is it all right if we have something to eat?”
Jack nodded, and dashed from the bed to the dresser where he had placed our snack. A few weeks before, I would have thought he was trying to escape from me, but now I knew otherwise. He was eager to see to my needs, and I was more than happy to encourage him. Allowing Jack to be a man of action was important.
It had been a while since I enjoyed a good orange, and I savored the treat. The citrus scent and juiciness of the fruit filled my senses with the comfortable familiarity of warmth and happiness. To my relief, Jack relaxed as we shared the slices. I didn’t understand what had motivated him to prepare the snack in the first place, but was grateful for the distraction and simple joy it provided us.
Afterward, we settled into bed and began to kiss. Within a matter of minutes, we were making love. We explored one another’s bodies with tenderness as we tasted the sweet juice on one another’s lips. I’d never look at oranges again without thinking of him.
We didn’t have the luxury of sleeping in the following morning. It was a workday and a school day, and Jack woke up just before dawn to begin his regular routine. When his movements roused my attention, he kissed my forehead.
“It’s early,” he confirmed. “Stay in bed a while longer. Get some more rest.”
Unaccustomed to looking after anyone but myself, I complied without protest.
In time, the fresh sunlight combined with the irresistible aroma of Jack’s cooking, lured me to full consciousness. I dressed in the conservative pajamas I had brought for Heide’s sake and made my way to the kitchen. When I turned the corner to the room, I stopped in my tracks and smiled.
Heide had woken up before me and stood just behind her father as he prepared breakfast. Like me, they were both wearing pajamas—he in a white tee shirt and blue plaid bottoms and she in a bright Angry Birds ensemble. Being the wonderful father he was, Jack sensed her presence and glanced over his shoulder at his daughter. As he did so, remnants of the lingering emotion from the night before overtook his handsome features as if he was looking at Heide and recalling what I had been through as a child. Jack watched Heide, and the intensity of his love for his daughter filled me with wonder.
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