by James, Leigh
Suddenly there was a very perky beeping noise from his pocket. He pulled back and looked at me with hooded eyes. “Hold that thought.” He looked down at his phone.
“You have a text from your sister,” he said and handed it to me.
“Pretty Wmn is on USA 2 nite 7 EST” Why was Sasha’s grammar so poor? I wondered. It was disturbing. I scowled at it for a second before I understood.
“Oooooh, goody!” I said, finally deciphering her message and no longer caring about the misspellings. I fumbled over John on the couch, forgetting all about grabbing his ass, and grabbed the remote. “Pretty Woman’s on!”
“But so are the Red Sox,” John said, looking a little wounded as I turned off the game and Julia Roberts appeared on the enormous screen. “And what about…you know?”
“Honey, the Red Sox are on every other night,” I said, gently rubbing his arm. “Pretty Woman is only on three times a year. And you know we’ll do you know later. We always do!”
“I do like me some Julia Roberts,” John said, relaxing back next to me, nuzzling me behind my ear. “Her hair in this movie is kind of like yours — wild.” He buried his hands in it and kissed my neck again. My body got hot but by sheer force of will and love of the movie, I ignored it.
“Shhhh,” I said, nudging him off a little. And then: “Can you get me a glass of wine? And some popcorn?”
He shook his head and laughed. “First the game goes, then my testicles,” he said, getting up off the couch and stretching. I couldn’t help tearing my eyes away from the movie to watch him. He had on low-slung grey sweats and a plain white tee-shirt; when he stretched the bottom of his shirt came up enough so I could see the outline of his lower abdomen, all taut muscles and tendons. He put his arms behind his head (probably on purpose) and stretched further, so I could see his biceps in full bulge. My mouth started watering, and it wasn’t for popcorn anymore. He sauntered out of the room, a knowing smile on his lips.
“You can keep your testicles,” I called, hoping Ian was upstairs and out of earshot. “As long as I can play with them sometimes.” I could hear him laughing in the kitchen and I did, too.
This was my kind of Friday night.
“Isn’t your perfect date supposed to be tomorrow?” John asked, coming back in and serving me a large glass of white wine and a bowl of popcorn. He flexed his muscles as he served me.
“That’s technically correct,” I said, running my hand down his bulging bicep before reaching for some popcorn, “but as I fulfilled my other duties today — shopping, lots of shopping — I feel that I’m entitled to certain perks tonight.” I stuffed some more popcorn in my mouth.
“I’ll give you perks,” John said, settling in next to me and grabbing some popcorn. We grinned at each other.
I love you, I thought.
“Shhh,” I said. “Stop distracting me. She’s about to find the perfect dress.”
I woke up wrapped in John’s arms. He’d slept soundly last night — no nightmares. I rolled over and kissed him on the cheek and then I pulled back and studied his face.
When he was asleep he looked younger. His face was relaxed, unguarded, and the lines running down his face softened. He sighed and pulled me closer, breathing heavily against me.
It felt so good to be back with him. To just be with him, and to trust that it was real.
My heart was so happy I felt like it was about to burst.
But. A dark thought crossed my mind. I was still keeping something from him. Catherine, married to Angel Morales.
Monday, I told myself. Tell him on Monday, when we have to deal with reality — she has her medical appointment then and training starts. Let him be happy for the weekend. Eva’s going to be here, let her run interference for a few days. Keep him from the fact that his daughter is married to a cartel leader for just a little while longer. Things have been weighing on him so, so hard.
I felt better having a plan to tell him about Angel — it made me feel like I wasn’t being quite as dishonest. “I love you,” I whispered, and kissed his face again. He stirred. “Don’t get up. I’ll go make us breakfast.”
I started to move. “Wait,” he said. He pulled me back down beside him. His eyes were open now and he leaned above me, staring down at me. They were the bluest eyes I’d ever seen — except for Catherine’s, whose were an almost exact match.
“John…are you okay?”
“Yes,” he said, but he still looked like he was trying to see inside me. “I just want…I just want to not think about anything troubling for the next two days.” He stroked my face some more, but he looked anything but carefree. “I just want this to be about us. While we can. Before things get —”
“Ugly?” I asked, gently finishing his sentence and smiling at him. “I’m in. There’s going to be a lot to deal with. Let’s just pretend it’s not all out there, waiting for us.”
“Okay,” he said. His shoulders relaxed and he seemed relieved. But his eyes still burned.
“Something’s bothering you,” I said, running my fingers through his tousled morning hair.
He smiled at me, a sad smile, and traced his finger along my jawline again. “At the risk of sounding redundant, I need to ask you something.” He sighed. “Again.”
“What is it, babe?” I asked. I kept playing with his hair. He crushed me to him, inhaling deeply, putting his face in my neck.
“I need to know that you mean this. That you aren’t going to leave,” he said. He looked at me with eyes that were now not only fierce, they were sad. Sad and hollow and afraid.
“John!” I said, and pulled him to me tighter. I couldn’t believe he was saying this again.
“How could you even say that? I’ve told you — I love you. I’m so sorry I left before. It was so thoughtless. I’m so sorry I hurt you —”
“It’s okay, it’s okay, shhh,” he said, holding me tightly, rocking back and forth. “You told me — I know you did. You haven’t done anything wrong. It’s me. It’s —”
I looked up at him with wide, bewildered eyes. My mind started going a mile a minute; It’s not me, it’s you? Did he really just say that?
“What did I do? Was it the shopping? I didn’t even want to buy that dress it was so expensive. I almost peed my pants when I saw the price tag! I don’t want you to think I’m just trying to spend your money! I’m so sorry John,” I said, on the edge of hysterics.
“Whoa, whoa,” John said, laughing a little, never letting go of me, holding me tighter and kissing my hair. “Liberty, you didn’t do anything. Stop. Stop,” he commanded, and I stopped squirming and opening and closing my mouth in an attempt to object. “You could buy a five thousand dollar dress. I don’t care about that. Not at all. Honey, I trust you — actually, that’s exactly what my problem is.” He laughed without humor. “That’s exactly what this is about.”
“You do trust me? Or don’t?” I asked, so confused. My heart was sinking, my stomach in a knot. He must’ve known that I was keeping something from him, and it must be making him doubt me. I just wanted to spare him some pain by not telling him about Catherine and Angel. I didn’t mean to break his trust, break his heart.
“No, I trust you,” he said, exasperated. “I do. I trust you with my life. That’s what I’m saying. After last night — and I’m talking about before we even went upstairs, when we were just hanging out, watching that movie,” he said, “it made me realize I trust you like you’re my family. And I almost can’t bear it.” He pulled me to him, putting his lips into my hair.
“So you’re upset because…you’re happy?” I asked, bewildered, trying to follow his thoughts.
“I’m not upset. I just love you, more than anything. And I just don’t want to fuck it up,” he said, and crushed me to him. I almost couldn’t breathe, but there was no way I was going to say something to break the spell.
“I’ve fucked everything else up, and I just can’t handle…feeling this way about you…What if you leave? What if you change your
mind?”
“What if I become a stranger?” I asked. He nodded. I gently put his hand on my heart.
“So that’s what you’re worried about?” He put his head against my hair, and I could feel how tense his body was. “John,” I said. “Look at me.”
He looked up and his eyes were haunted. The ghosts of his mistakes were torturing him. He didn’t want the same thing to happen to us — but not only did he have to trust me, he had to trust himself. I’d never had someone I could trust before. Not even my mother. If I were being honest with myself, not my sister, either.
“I feel the same way about you. It’s petrifying,” I said, the last part more to myself than to him. Because it was absolutely terrifying; he was my whole world now, and to love him and to trust him was to risk everything, everything that was still fragile that I had inside, everything I’d struggled to keep intact for so long.
“And I know I’m young, so I’m sure it feels like you’re taking a risk with me. But I’m old, too,” I said. “I know what we have. It means everything to me,” I said.
“What happened to your daughter was terrible. It was wrong. And she’s wrong now, too. She’s not the girl you knew.”
He looked up at me. “It’s my fault,” he said.
“It’s not all your fault,” I said. “You’re a parent. You made choices, and those choices had consequences. But everything that she’s done, everything that she’s chosen — those are her choices.
“It’s not so different from me,” I said, softly. “I could say look at my mother, look what she did. Look at what she didn’t do as a parent.” I disentangled myself from him and sat up against the headboard. I looked up at the ceiling, maybe towards heaven, towards my mother.
“But I can’t hold my mother responsible for every choice I’ve made. That’s just lazy thinking. Your parents aren’t an excuse for lackluster morals,” I said. My mother would have understood what I was saying, and she would’ve known I was right.
I wasn’t going to say more right now. Not more about Catherine’s marriage and the horrible chain of events that had lead up to it; not more about how she really thought I was a fuckwad, and him, too. Part of it might have been John’s fault. The rest of the blame lay with Catherine. It had to.
In my heart, I prayed for them both. Catherine was not my favorite person, but still, I hoped there was time. I hoped there was time for him to get it right for both of them. I hoped they could find some common ground.
He sat back up next to me and laced his fingers through mine. “I know you’re stronger than she is — and probably stronger than I am. Better, anyway,” he said and shrugged. “What’s bothering me is feeling like my life depends on you,” he said, whispering the last part, clasping my hand, hard. “I feel like I can’t live without you, now. I don’t want to.”
“John, I feel the same way.” I looked up at him. “Like I said. It’s petrifying.”
“We’re making a promise to each other,” he said. “I just have to let myself accept it.” He exhaled. “I need coffee. I can’t believe I tried to talk to you about this without being caffeinated.”
“So, let’s go get some coffee,” I said. “I’ll make you breakfast. And we can talk about this more this weekend. We’ll figure it out,” I said. We can figure out Vegas, my apartment, what we were going to do about Darius, and then Catherine. Actually, maybe Darius and Catherine could wait until Monday.
Whenever we dealt with them, it was going to be okay. I decided to be brave. I was going to face it all head-on. He loved me, I knew. And with that knowledge, I could face anything.
“Eva’s here,” John said, after we were done cleaning up the kitchen and had gotten dressed. “You ready?”
“Yes,” I said. “Am I presentable?” I asked.
“You’re better than presentable. You’re hot,” he said, pulling me to him. “And you made me and my dad pancakes.”
“I’m practically indispensable,” I agreed. “I can make pancakes from a box.”
I looked down at myself, still worried about my outfit. I was wearing jeans and a white button-down Oxford shirt. It was a little preppy for me, but I wanted to look respectable to see Catherine’s mother.
“You look appropriate,” John said, “and Eva’s not one to judge. She already told me she thought you were lovely and brave. Besides, Liberty, you brought her daughter back. You could wear that plaid bikini I bought you and she’d still think you were perfect. Actually, now that I’m thinking about it, where is that bikini? I miss it,” he said, and ran his lips down my neck. He hadn’t shaved today, per my request, and I could feel his stubble tickling me. I felt an ache low in my abdomen and shook him off.
“Eva,” I said, trying to get him to focus. “Let’s go see her.”
He pulled back, but he looked put out. “Yes, ma’am,” he said.
Ian joined us and we started towards the barracks. “I’m leaving for the weekend once I see Eva,” Ian said. “I’ve lent her a car for the weekend. She’s staying at a hotel. I invited her to stay, of course, but she preferred it this way.”
“Where are you going?” John asked, looking at his father. “Liberty and I don’t want to run you out of town. The house is plenty big enough for all three of us.”
“Boston,” Ian said. “I’m going to Red Sox games and museums.”
“Oh, that sounds nice,” I said. I watched out of the corner of my eye as John opened his mouth and then closed it again. Red Sox? his expression read. Without me?
“I wasn’t going to go,” Ian continued, ignoring John’s silence, “but since you two are finally reunited, my granddaughter doesn’t want to see me yet, and her mother’s here this weekend…well, I figured what the hell. No one will miss me.”
“We’ll miss you,” I said.
“Have fun at the game,” John grunted, and I elbowed him in the chest as surreptitiously as I could.
“I’ll try,” Ian said dryly. He seemed different to me since we’d been back; frailer somehow, more emotional. The Catherine situation was having its way with him.
I saw a leggy blond figure waiting outside Catherine’s room with Jake; I inhaled sharply. Even though I’d met Eva before, I felt intimated now: she was attractive, pulled together and annoyingly wrinkle-free for a woman her age. When I’d seen her in California, I’d stared hopelessly at her remarkable, poreless complexion. Suddenly, I was worried about John seeing her. We’d been so busy (having sex) that I hadn’t let myself even think about it too clearly. But here we were. And her skin was luminous in the early morning sun.
“Eva,” Ian said, and he greeted her with a warm hug.
“It’s been too long, Ian,” she said, hugging him back.
“Hi Eva,” John said, and bent down and hugged her. “It’s been a while.”
“It’s good to see you,” she said, then turned to me. “And Liberty!” She hugged me to her, suddenly and hard, and through my shock I noticed she was rocking me back and forth.
“Thank you, honey. Thank you for going down there and finding my baby.” She pulled back and looked at me. She had tears in her eyes. “I was probably sort of rude when you came to my house. I’m sorry,” she said. “I thought you were crazy.”
I just nodded at her, not knowing what to say. She looked to John. “Thank you for bringing her back. Ian and I have been talking. He’s told me what’s going on, about her frame of mind. It’s not good, is it?”
I saw Jake smirk behind her back and it was like I could read his mind: Understatement of the year, lady. He noticed me looking at him and he immediately got his face under control.
“That’s putting it mildly,” John said. “She’s very angry. She’s not herself, Eva. You need to be prepared for that.”
“What does that mean?” Eva asked. “What does she want? All I keep hearing is how angry she is. Why? What’s she so angry about? That it took us so long? No one could be more sorry about that than her own parents,” Eva trailed off, looking confused and sad.
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br /> “She wants to go back,” John said, evenly, and I could hear the struggle in his voice to stay calm, to not open the floodgates of emotion. I’m sure he wanted to. If anyone could’ve understood his pain, it was Eva. But he was probably trying to spare her for as long as he could. “We think she has Stockholm syndrome.”
“You mean like Patty Hearst?” Eva’s face contorted. “You mean she likes them? The people who did this to her?”
“Yes,” John said. “They had her for so long that she’s confused, to say the least. Her loyalty is with them.”
Eva’s eyes filled with tears again. “Oh, the poor thing,” she said, getting out a tissue and wiping her nose. “My poor little girl.”
“It’s going to be okay, Eva,” John said and hugged her. I felt so sorry for both of them. I was suddenly very happy that Eva was here, that she could share some of the burden with John. It was something only the two of them could really understand.
“What do I say to her?” she asked, pulling back and looking at us. Her mascara was smeared a little bit, a problem which would no doubt get worse as the day progressed.
John just shook his head. “Just talk to her,” he said. “I told you, I have a friend at Mass General who’s going to assess her on Monday.”
“I’m going to the appointment,” she said, straightening her shoulders. “I hope you don’t mind if I stay for awhile.”
“Of course,” John said. “And if you need anything, just let us know.”
“My hotel’s close,” she said, wiping her eyes now. She seemed to be getting her game face on. “I’ll be fine. Just let me know what I can do to help my daughter.” She nodded at us and then to Jake. He got up to let her in.
“I’ll talk to you later,” John said, and they looked at each other for a moment, the way I imagined that only parents could. Some sort of telepathy passed between them about their child: I want it to be okay, too. I’ll do anything.
Eva smoothed her hair, then walked through the door to her daughter, six years after she’d seen her for the last time.