Faye's Story: Crave Series, #2

by Heidi Lowe

  I'm relieved to hear the siren approaching, coming to put an end to this ordeal.

  I've been stroking Emily's back for the last five minutes, trying to get her back to sleep. Luckily, her big brown eyes are getting heavy. She has taken to sucking her thumb lately, too. Another thing she picked up from one of her daycare pals, no doubt.

  I hum her back to sleep, then switch out her bedroom light, and creep quietly out of the room once I'm certain she's returned to the land of slumber.

  I rub my tired, sore eyes, and start towards my bedroom to get some much needed sleep, but my throat is dry. I won't be able to sleep if I don't get something to drink. The wine always leaves me thirsty like this, hence why I usually stay away from it.

  I make my reluctant way downstairs. The light is on in the kitchen. I hear her moving about in there.

  She's tidying up when I enter. Through the corner of my eye I see her look up at me, but I step straight past her, without making eye contact. I pour myself a glass of water, and behind me I feel her gaze burning into the back of my head. I'm more than happy to ignore her for the rest of this horrible night, maybe all of tomorrow too. But she won't let me. I know her.

  "Faye," she says in a small voice, touching me on the small of my back. "Say something."

  "Don't," I say, shifting from her reach. If she wants words, she can have that one. Don't, go to hell, I hate you... I have plenty for her along those lines.

  "I'm sorry, I truly am," she says.

  "Yeah, you're always so sorry." I take angry gulps of the water. "What can I do with sorry?"

  "I'll never be able to say it enough to convey how deeply I feel it."

  I snort a laugh. "You got that right."

  "I didn't know she would show up here. She's completely lost it. I'm sure of that now. When she said she got out, I think she meant from a mental institution or something. Prison, maybe."

  I slam my glass down on the counter, then spin round to face her, shooting a glare so intense it could scorch her skin. "Damn you for bringing her into our lives! It's one thing to screw around on me, but now that lunatic is a part of our lives. This isn't the world we live in, Nikki. A commotion on our doorstep, all manner of profanities spewed, cops showing up in the middle of the night. All while our daughter sleeps. I just had to assure her that everything will be all right. That evil bitch scared her. I don't know how much she heard."

  She hangs her head in shame. She does that a lot these days, and rightly so.

  This neighborhood is tranquil, safe, and pleasant. Before Angel showed up, the most interesting thing to happen around here was the couple, a few doors down, winning a quarter of a million on a scratch card. In just one year we've become the dysfunctional lesbian family on the street. It took so damn long to be accepted here, and in the blink of an eye we've undone all of that. Nikki's undone all of that.

  "Have you any idea how embarrassing that was for me, having our dirty laundry aired like that in public? Having to talk to the cops while our neighbors watched on, judging us, while that crazy bitch pretended that butter wouldn't melt when they questioned her?"

  Angel had turned on the charm, spoken calmly and flirtatiously to the very male, and clearly very smitten officers, explaining that it was a simple misunderstanding, that she just wanted to speak to her wife, and we were standing in the way. I know they believed her. The younger of the two officers couldn't keep his eyes off her breasts. She could have said anything and they would have been putty in her hands. Eventually they asked her to leave and sort it out in the morning, over the phone. And everyone, including Sandra, had left. Left me to face Nikki, the catalyst. That's when Emily appeared at the top of the stairs, on the verge of tears.

  "At least you won't need to wait for a divorce. She's clearly insane. An annulment would be more suitable. You were her target right from the start. You didn't stand a chance."

  "I hate that woman with every ounce of my being," she says, her voice dark.

  "Well, you married her."

  "Faye, please don't... I don't want this to define us, to hinder the progress we've made."

  I give her a blank stare. "That progress gets erased every time I'm reminded that that woman exists."

  Her eyes are watery now. "I don't want to leave again. Please don't ask me to." There is real fear in those leaf-green eyes, as though her life hangs in the balance.

  "Maybe you should. I mean, you're used to getting laid every day, and I'm not going to give it up, so..." I shrug. It's caustic, below the belt, and I regret saying it as soon as the words exit my mouth. That isn't me. I'm lashing out.

  "Don't believe any of that garbage, Faye. She was trying to humiliate us. Trying to hurt you."

  "I know that, but the question remains: Will I ever be able to satisfy you the way she did? Have I ever been able to satisfy you?" The words are just slipping out now, and I can't stop them. For four weeks we've managed to avoid conversations like this.

  "God, Faye, how could you ask me that?" she says, her voice shrill. She grabs me by the arms. "Every day that we were together, you satisfied me, inside and outside of the bedroom. Whenever I slept with her it was just so empty. Like that was the only thing that we had. And she was always the one initiating it. After a while it made my skin crawl, because it was meaningless, loveless. It wasn't where I wanted to be. So of course you satisfied me. But not just sexually; emotionally and mentally. On every level."

  "I'm going to bed," I say after a long silence. Her eyes are pleading with me. "I'm not going to ask you to leave. I just can't look at you right now."

  She nods, lets go of me, and as I'm walking away, she says, "I love you. More than anything in this world. And I'm going to spend the rest of my life proving that to you."

  I won't say it back, even if I feel it. She can sit and stew in the doghouse for a while. If I have to feel inadequate, then she should, too. It's better to get all the bad feelings out now, so we can move forward. Because, although she probably doesn't think so right now, I've never wanted anything more in my life.

  TWENTY-THREE

  As darkness descends, and all traces of the sun vanish from the sky, I lay my trowel on the soil, wipe the sweat from my brow with the back of a muddy hand. I stand up and dust mud off my sweatpants. There's so much of the stuff on me that it feels like it will never come off.

  There's still more work to be done out here before we pick up the rabbits. Nikki's already put up the fence. We'll install the cages tomorrow.

  I pull off my rubber boots, leave them at the door, then go inside. The first thing I need is a shower. I'm filthy with sweat and earth. It's been a long day.

  Upstairs, I hear Nikki and Emily talking as Nikki tucks her in. I stop outside the room and listen, going unseen by both of them.

  "Mama, you're not going to leave again, are you?"

  Nikki shakes her head. "No, never again."

  "Good. I didn't like it when you lived with Angel."

  Nikki laughs. "I didn't like it much either. I love being here with you and Mommy. And I'm never going to leave you, okay?"

  "Will I have to see Angel again?"

  "Nope. She's out of our lives. Now it's just you, me and Mommy, just like it was before. And soon we'll have the rabbits."

  Nikki gives her a goodnight kiss, and that's when I show myself to give her one, too.

  "I didn't know you were there," Nikki says, startled to see me.

  "I just finished up in the yard."

  We leave our daughter's room.

  "I ran you a bath. It should be a little cooler now," Nikki says. "You're absolutely filthy!"

  I chuckle. "It's a messy job." Then it hits me what she said. "You ran me a bath?"

  "Yeah. I thought you would like a nice, long one to relax in."

  "Thank you," I say, taken aback. I don't know why I'm so surprised by this gesture. She's been back home for four months now, and she's been catering to my every whim every day. Really putting in overtime, trying to get back into my goo
d books. If I'm being totally honest, even before the break up, she used to do this sort of thing often. I guess that's why I never would have suspected that she was unhappy with me. Though she insists she never was unhappy, just that she temporarily lost her mind. Now that I've seen how happy she is to be back, and how hard she's working to make it right between us again, I believe her.

  "Any time," she says. "Do you want a coffee or a glass of wine, maybe? To drink in the bath?"

  I want you, is on the tip of my tongue. In the past, we bathed together. Sat in the tub smooching until our fingers and toes shriveled up like raisins. We used to do all of that sickeningly sweet couple stuff. We were so happy once. My heart aches for that time. If I asked her to join me, would she?

  But I don't ask. I don't know how to ask her. Just like I haven't been able to communicate my desire for her to make love to me. Because I don't know if it's too soon for us to do that, or if I would be giving in too early. Too soon to forget what she did and just enjoy her. If I were to follow my heart, I would take her by the hand right now and lead her into the bathroom with me. She would scrub the mud off me, scrub me clean.

  "I'm good. Thank you," I mumble instead, and go in alone.

  "I'll be in my room if you need anything," she calls in.

  The bath is bland, not as relaxing as I would like, because I spend the whole time daydreaming about what it could have been. It frustrates me that this woman, whom I've known and loved now for seven years, was married to for five, and has seen me naked more times than I can count, is still like a stranger to me. Not in the literal sense, but in the way that I can't tell her I want her. Sometimes I wish she would make the first move, though I know she's apprehensive. The ball is in my court, not hers. I'll have to be the one to okay it. I've never been good at that sort of thing.

  Clean and fresh, I towel myself and my hair dry, slip into a pale blue chemise, and throw on my robe over it.

  I hear laughter coming from Nikki's room. Curiosity leads me to it.

  "Hey," she says when I peek my head round the door. She's in bed with her tablet. "Was I being too loud?"

  "No, not at all. What are you watching?"

  "Oh, just this comedy series on YouTube called Awkward Black Girl. Sandra recommended it. Apparently it sums up her life." She looks at me hovering in her doorway, and then adds, "You wanna join me?"

  I don't need to be asked twice. I close the door behind me and climb onto her bed. She props up a pillow on the headboard so I can lean on it.

  It's a funny show, more so because I'm watching it with her. Isn't it crazy how that happens? The right company improves your viewing experience.

  We watch both seasons back to back, completely hooked, all laughed out by the end of it. And when the laughter dies away, all we have is each other.

  She looks at me, a longing in her eyes that's always there. Our legs are touching ever so slightly, but it's enough to send a shiver down my spine.

  "Do you want to watch something else?" she asks.

  "No. I should probably go to bed. I want to make an early start tomorrow." I get up.

  "Okay, sure."

  Why won't she ask me to stay? Why doesn't she sense that I don't want to leave? As I make my reluctant departure, I'm praying that she's still in tune with me, and will know what's in my heart.

  "Faye," she says, just as I'm about to open the door. "Do you have to go?"

  She still feels it! The connection we have. It's still there. I smile to myself, my eyes watery.

  When I turn back round to face her, she's standing up, looking hopeful.

  "I want you to stay," she adds.

  Now I smile so that she can see. "I want to stay, too."

  Now we're both smiling, both on the verge of tears, both too elated to say anything else. She rushes to me, and smashes her lips to mine. We devour each other ravenously, before she lifts me in her arms and carries me to the bed.

  Even as she lays me down, she can't separate her lips from mine. I'll let her kiss me for as long as she likes, because no one kisses like Nikki; no one else's kiss can compare to the love of your life's. I won't hold back like I did before. I'll surrender myself entirely to her.

  She can hardly contain herself when she gets going, and carelessly yanks off my clothes. I go from zero to naked within seconds.

  "You smell delicious," she says, kissing and sucking at my neck and earlobe.

  While she's doing that, my hands busy themselves working her shorts down and smoothing over her pert butt cheeks. She isn't wearing any panties underneath. Less to remove.

  She lets me peel her tank top off, exposing her bosom and deliciously pink, hardened nipples. Then she steps out of her shorts, now matching me in my nudity.

  We kiss and kiss and kiss, her body warm and soft against mine. She feels just the way I remember her, unchanged by the separation, by the invasion of another woman's body. For the first time in a long time, she feels like she's mine again.

  Her tongue's first port of call once our kisses cease is that familiar territory between my thighs. She makes a slow descent, planting kisses along my stomach and on the inside of my thighs, before finally diving in to garnish my sex with a hungry tongue. Hungrily and thirstily she gobbles down my offering. I'm so aroused, there must be a river down there by now. And she laps it all up, while I whimper into the air, clutching at the bedsheets. Her technique has changed. It's wonderful, but it's different. It would have been foolish to expect that she would come back to me unchanged. I'll have to get used to this new Nikki, and reconcile myself to the fact that she learned this with another woman. Maybe I've changed, too. Melanie and I did things together I'd never done with anyone. Maybe our time apart has improved us for each other.

  "I've missed you," she says. "I've missed this. I've missed your taste, your scent."

  She gets me just close enough to the edge, before coming up for air and slotting her body between my legs. She grinds her sex against mine, causing a delightful friction as our beans collide. And when we climax, we do so together, our tongues battle it out passionately.

  "I love you," I breathe, finally willing and able to say it. "I always have."

  "I love you, too."

  I wake up coughing, choking, being nudged out of my sleep by a terrified-looking Nikki.

  "Faye, get up." She throws me my chemise. "I think there's a fire."

  "What?" I say, disoriented and coughing. "In the house?"

  "Yes," she shouts. "I'm going to get Emily."

  "Oh my God." I scramble out of bed, desperately pull on my chemise and robe. The smell of smoke fills the room.

  I hurry outside, and from the top of the stairs, downstairs in the darkness, I can see the reflection of the dancing flames.

  Nikki joins me, a coughing Emily in her arms. She hands her to me.

  "Stay behind me. We don't know how far it's spread."

  I don't want her to go down ahead of us, but someone has to.

  "Mommy, I'm scared," Emily cries, pressing her head into my shoulder.

  "Everything's going to be all right, sweetie," I say, trying to keep the apprehension out of my voice. How can I reassure her when I'm not sure myself if we will make it out alive?

  At the bottom of the stairs, Nikki ushers us down, as the fire rages on, inching closer to her. "Come on," she yells.

  As I run down the stairs, she tries to open the door, but it won't budge.

  "Fuck! There's something holding it from the outside."

  "Oh my God," I cry, feeling powerless, helpless. I don't want to die like this, and not now. I just got my family back.

  The flames are surrounding us, my daughter is crying. But Nikki hasn't given up.

  "Take off the robe," she orders.

  I do as I'm told and hand it to her, the flames only a few feet away from us. She wraps it around her bare foot, tells us to stand back, and starts ferociously kicking at the frosted glass window on the bottom half of the door. A smash follows, and she kicks away as much g
lass as she can, before reaching for Emily and easing her through.

  It's going to be a tight squeeze for us. She grabs my arm and sends me out next. The fire rages ever closer.

  "Nikki, come on," I scream, once I'm outside and safe. I'm not going to lose her, I won't allow that to happen.

  But she climbs out moments later, grazes herself against a piece of glass still clinging to the door.

  I throw my arms around her while we're all coughing from smoke inhalation.

  "Thank God," I say, tears burning my eyes.

  The neighbors have all come out by now, and Nikki leads us away from the burning house. In the distance, the sound of a siren.

  "Why didn't the alarm go off?" I question, perturbed.

  "I don't know," she says.

  And then we see it, at the same time. The white Honda Civic parked across the street. The driver sticks its head out. Under the light of the street lamps, a satisfied grin appears on its face...on Angel's face.

  "It was her," Nikki says, eyes filled with murder. She charges towards the car, but Angel already has the engine running.

  "You fucking bitch! You crazy, fucking bitch. You tried to kill my family. I'm gonna kill you." Her screams are manic as she chases after the car, barefoot. She stops when it speeds off out of view.

  When she rejoins us on the neighbor's lawn, she still has that vengeful look in her eyes. I take her hand. Even though I hate Angel now as much as she does, I'm more grateful that we're all alive.

  "It's okay, Nik. It's okay."

  She bursts into tears, and I cradle her in my arms as the fire brigade arrives.

  The emergency room buzzes with life. It seems as though every ailing person in the world has shown up tonight.

  Emily gets seen to first and given the all clear. When we're eventually seen to, Nikki and I get the same news.

  We're all crowded into one room, clinging to each other gratefully, all aware how close we came to our demise.