by Willow Aster
“I’m not going anywhere now, I promise you that.”
I look up at him and suddenly feel blood rush to my face. His eyes are so full of emotion, I’m the one gulping now. Whatever used to be holding him back is not there any longer. I seem to be the only one holding up the enormous barrier between us.
I EAT A slice of pizza and then pick at another.
“Not feeling well?” Saul asks.
“Not very hungry,” I tell him.
I fail to mention that after just breaking a ‘fast’ with a few sips of chicken broth, pizza might not have been the best choice for me.
He frowns. “That doesn’t usually stop you.”
I bop him on the head with one of his couch pillows. “Shut it.”
It’s the first laugh I’ve heard from Saul in a while. His eyes disappear with his laugh.
“You know it’s true,” he says.
“I’ll eat when I’m hungry.” I stalk to his garbage can and toss the crust and olives in the trash.
“You’re so volatile.” He sees my empty plate when I walk back to the couch. “Did you just throw that away?” he asks in shock.
I nod. “What?”
“Why’d you do that?” He demands, looking wounded.
My eyes widen. “Oh—I wasn’t thinking. Sorry…”
He shrugs, but I can tell he doesn’t really believe that I didn’t do it on purpose. He used to give me all the mushrooms and I’d give him all the olives. I look at his plate and there’s a small pile of mushrooms on the side of his plate.
“I was just making sure I got them all before I gave them to you,” he mutters.
An unpleasant silence hangs in the room. I lean back on the couch and mentally groan. I don’t like being angry with Saul. And I don’t like being mean to him either. I’m not used to feeling this way. He’s always been able to snap me out of any bad mood and make me laugh. No matter what. Even the times when I should have … I just can’t seem to stay mad at him.
He’s staring at me.
“What are you thinking?” I ask.
He hands me a glass of wine and holds up his beer bottle. “To new beginnings.”
I sigh. We clink and take a drink.
An hour later Saul is laughing at everything I say. I’m even finding some things humorous. I’m trying really hard to shelve the dark that’s taken up residence in my brain the last few days and just enjoy a night. I’m still hurt, still bitter, still broken, but … there’s a good looking man who is trying to do everything possible to make me feel better. I have to at least fake it so he’ll let me go home soon.
He’s been steadily filling my glass and drinking right along with me. I’ve gone on a few Anna rants, impersonating her to the point of perfection. That’s what Saul says anyway. He has me do it over and over, laughing until he’s wiping his eyes.
“I think she’s always been jealous of you,” he says when we’re taking a breather.
“No, she’s not—I have nothing for her to be jealous of!” I shake my head.
“You’re everything she’s not—of course she has something to be jealous of with you!”
I scoff at him. “Don’t be ridiculous.”
“You’re beautiful, Maby.”
“No, I’m not. She’s the beautiful one!”
He raises an eyebrow and gives me a look. “I saw her once without her makeup. It’s ter-ri-fy-ing. You look amazing just rolling out of bed…” He gets a far off look in his eyes and my heart pounds a little faster. He has a heated expression when he looks at me again. “You’re smart, kind … you have the best a— … you’re kind,” he repeats, flustered. “She’s … well, she’s a viper.”
“Guys tend to not mind the viper qualities. I mean, look at Courtney. Back when I first started bleaching my hair, she made so much fun of me. And then after she stole Dalton, she bleached her brown hair to match mine…”
“Because Dalton loved when you did that. He thought it was so bold.”
“He’s such an idiot,” I groan.
“Wuss.”
“Pussy.”
“Wanker.”
I lose it then and laugh until I’m wheezing. Saul pounds my back. Once I catch my breath, he pours the last of the wine and gives my glass another clink.
“To finding our way back,” he says.
We sip and both set down our drinks at the same time. The current shifts between us, but I’m still a little late in realizing that Saul is coming in for a kiss. His mouth claims mine and he kisses me like he wants to prove a point. I think fleetingly how different this kiss is from Coen’s. That kiss was straightforward. Pure and meaningful. This one is loaded with intent. It’s a little jarring. I’m not sure I want to go backwards to complicated.
But it’s Saul and he’s the one I’ve pined over for so long. He’s familiar and comfortable. I second-guess my thoughts as rapidly as they’re happening. This is what I’ve wanted all along. Right? To have Saul’s heart?
Everyone makes mistakes, I reason with myself. He’s trying to prove himself. God knows I fail miserably every day. I should be willing to give someone another chance.
Any other thoughts that sneak in about where he’s been all this time, I push away. I’m too weak. It feels too good to be touched.
I match his fervor with my kiss. He groans and pulls me tight against his chest. He tugs on my sweater dress.
“Can I please take this off?” he asks.
“We’re drunk, maybe this isn’t the best time, Saul…” I start, but his lips take the words and then he wipes them out with his tongue.
It does feel intoxicating to have Saul so boldly taking what he wants. I let myself be caught up in the moment. I think we’ll never really know what we can be with each other if we don’t see where this goes.
He picks me up and carries me to his bedroom. I sober up quickly when I see his bed. He lays me on the bed and pulls my dress over my head. My hair gets static cling and he chuckles when he sees it going every which way. He gives it a tug.
“You’re so sexy, Maby.”
He makes quick work of my bra, unclasping it and throwing it across the room. He buries his head in my breasts and then takes his shirt off. With one hand, he rubs one breast, and with the other, he unbuttons his fly.
“Saul,” I whisper. “Slow down.”
He pauses, stretching the waist of his boxers out. “Do you not want this?”
“Do you?” I ask.
Part of me will never get over him turning me away before.
“Of course I do. Can’t you tell?” he jokes.
His penis looks big and a little angry. It intrigues me, I’m not gonna lie.
I feel the need to count something, anything, stronger than I’ve ever felt it before. I squash it down.
I will not do it. I will not do it. I will not do it. I will not do it. I will not do it. I will not do it. I will not do it. I will not do it. I will not do it. I will not do it. I will not do it. I will not do it. I will not do it.
There.
I will not do it.
“What?” Saul asks, his eyebrows meeting in the middle.
“I’m not going to count. I will not do it.”
“Okay, Maby,” he says as he comes in for another kiss.
This kiss is the best one so far. It almost makes me forget everyone and everything. Almost.
It isn’t until a little later, when we’re both coming and I’m moaning, “Harder!” that I truly do get lost in Saul’s arms.
AND THEN I wake up. My shoulder is prickling; the pain is like a thousand tiny knives digging into my skin. What the hell?
I turn and see Saul’s chin resting on my shoulder. His stubble is rubbing my skin raw. I try to shift underneath him, but he’s so heavy. Whenever he moves, it feels like he’s taking off another layer of my skin.
My face feels the same way. I have sensitive skin, though, so it’s not like he was doing anything wrong. It’s just that I’ll have the marks proving what we did. I bite
my lip. I can’t believe I just had sex with Saul.
Coen! Oh God. Coen. My lips tremble and I bite down harder. It’s not like Coen and I were exclusive or anything, but…
I can’t believe I had sex with Saul!
My stomach drops and I try to remember if we used a condom. We were going too fast and then it got better. Really nice. I look over at the side table and see the wrapper there. We did. Thank God. That’s all I need—a little psychotic baby with my genes.
I lift Saul’s arm and he lets out a little snore. He is out. I slide lower and lower until I’m completely under his arm and can get out. I sit up and try to lift his leg off of mine too.
I throw on one of his nicely pressed dress shirts and walk to the bathroom. After I’ve brushed my teeth, I sneak to the kitchen and start the coffee. I’m buttering toast when he stumbles in, rubbing his bare chest. He looks like a little boy giant with his messy hair and sleepy eyes. He grins when he sees me in his shirt.
I smile and get back to the toast. “Got any peanut butter?”
“Of course.” He reaches into the cabinet and pulls it out.
When he gets to me, he sets the peanut butter down in front of me and pulls my back into his chest. He hugs me tight and I close my eyes, trying to fully enjoy how sturdy and safe he feels.
He turns me around and leans down to kiss me. I kiss him back, but when he lifts me up and wraps my legs around his, I stop.
He leans his head back and looks into my eyes. His eyes crinkle as he smiles at me and that has always been my biggest weakness with him. My heart never fails to squeeze just a little bit when he looks at me this way.
“You okay, Maby?” he asks softly.
I stare at him and give a tiny nod. It’s hard to think about anything when he’s squeezing my ass that way.
“You sure?” he asks again.
I look at him gravely and a million thoughts rush through my head at once.
Do I feel the way I used to about him? What does he really feel for me? Should this be feeling different/better/easier/harder/mushier than it does? Is being wrapped up in his arms like I’m hugging a teddy bear really the best thing I’ve ever felt?
Coen.
I shake my head and try to stop the jumbled heap of questions.
And still Coen. Sweet, beautiful, kind Coen.
I might not know much of anything, but I do know that I cannot ruin Coen. He’s too good. I can’t be the one to mess him up. I don’t want to ruin Saul either, but he’s 30 and he knows all my mess. If he can’t step up and handle it by now, no one ever will.
I put my forehead to Saul’s and kiss him back hard.
THIS TIME WHEN we have sex, I’m fully aware of everything. He knows what he’s doing. When we’re done this time, I can’t believe we haven’t had sex before now.
He kisses my hair as I lay on his chest.
“You’ve been holding out on me, Mr. Saul.”
“I could say the same about you, Miss Maby.”
“Ew, I just realized we’ll never be able to marry each other.” I turn to him with my nose scrunched.
He laughs. “Uh, why not?”
“Maby Mayes—that’s the worst name ever!” I rub my face where his stubble has been.
He cringes. “Ow, you’re all red. Sorry about my scruff.” He runs his fingers softly along my chin. “And I think Maby Mayes is pretty sweet, actually.” He tries to kiss my lips without any of his beard touching my skin. “Maby Mayes, Maby Mayes,” he whispers. “Or maybe I could go by Saul Armstrong. That’s much better!”
“It was a joke! Don’t be getting any ideas!” I yell as he goes under the covers and nuzzles my chest, tickling my sides.
AFTER MY SHOWER, I tell Saul I’m going home.
“No—stay here. We’re having fun, right?”
“Yes, it’s been fun, but I have to start figuring out what I’m going to do about a job. I have calls to make … all that.”
He looks wounded. “I hoped we could just stay here. I took today off. Weekend is coming up. I thought maybe we could … not leave the bed…” He smiles, but it falters when he sees my expression.
I look away to avoid his eyes. Just a few days ago, I couldn’t see past that very second, and now I … well, I’m finding life more bearable, that’s for sure. But I feel antsy too, and I’m not sure what to make of that. Maybe I just need time to process this whole change of events.
“Are you regretting being with me?” he asks quietly.
“No!” I respond quickly. “No, I’m not … I just … I don’t really know what to think about it yet.”
He nods. “I’ve wanted to be with you for a long time, Maby. I wish I hadn’t wasted so much time.”
“That’s just it. Maybe it wasn’t a waste. Maybe it had to go like this. I’m still not sure why you want to be with me now … or even that you really do.” I look at him before zipping my bag.
His jaw ticks as he watches my hands. He doesn’t say anything, just stares into nothing. There’s the non-committal Saul I know and love. I slip on my shoes.
“Thanks for the overnight,” I say nonchalantly, giving a little wave.
“Wait, you’re going right now?”
“Yep.”
“Let me walk you home.”
“No, it’s okay. Thanks, though. I’m good. Bye, Saul.” I stand on my tiptoes and kiss his cheek.
“Why do I feel like you’re never coming back?” he asks.
“You know I can’t quit you, Saul.” I give him a wobbly smile.
He smiles back and gives me another hug. “You better not. I have lots more I need to do to this hot little body you’ve got going.” He gives my butt a slap and I jump.
“You’re such a child,” I grumble, rolling my eyes.
“That’s not what you thought this morning,” he whispers, grinning.
He pulls me in for another kiss and makes it count before I walk out the door.
WALKING HOME I scroll through my missed texts and voicemails to avoid … myself. I’m feeling a really weird urge to yank on my hair that I’m trying to avoid. Not just a tug, but a full-on, pull-it-out-to-the-roots kind of yank. Nervous energy is pumping through my blood and it seems like it would ease it a little if I pulled out some of my hair. As I think it and want it, I simultaneously realize that the thought is not something I should entertain. I just can’t stop imagining the relief. Even though my bag and purse are flapping on my arm, I start jogging. It’s uncoordinated and probably completely unsightly, but it helps. I count my steps while I jog, but suddenly that seems like nothing. It certainly seems a lot better than pulling out my hair.
I want to roll my eyes at my own logic.
I decide right then to go see Paschal after I’ve dropped off my bag. Maybe I’ll have him add some pink when he touches up the blue. Besides missing him, I know that I need to keep doing things that help. I don’t want to get all vain, but something little like making my hair fun so I don’t pull it out might help. I can’t afford to let my compulsions start affecting me on the outside as well as the inside.
There are a few texts from Dalton, growing increasingly hostile with each text.
Dalton: I can’t believe Courtney knows. Sorry I didn’t give you any warning. She took off before I could think straight.
Later…
Dalton: What the hell did you tell her?
Later…
Dalton: Answer me, dammit! Why would you do that? Son of a bitch! I knew you were a vindictive bitch, but this is too much.
That does it. I answer him back.
You’ve gotta be kidding me. Take a long look in the mirror, you flaming wuss. You’re the one who caused this mess. I didn’t tell her you texted me incessantly for weeks! I didn’t tell her you whacked off on video! I told her you asked to see me. That’s it. You got off easy, jerk off. Now leave me the hell alone.
He starts calling then and I decline his call. I’m not giving him a single second longer of my time. Of all the arrogant bastards.
I can’t even believe I ever thought I loved him. I have a full body shiver at the thought … and not the good kind.
He calls again. And again.
Okay, I’ll give him one more second after all. I text him one last time.
When I say leave me the hell alone, I mean, DO NOT CONTACT ME EVER AGAIN. Got it? I HOPE I NEVER SEE YOUR TINY HEAD ON YOUR TOO SHORT OF A BODY AGAIN. Your mini legs can walk themselves out of my life FOREVER. Get LOST.
I start laughing then and can’t stop. I can’t believe I just said that, but fuck it all, it feels damn good. The lady I pass on the street watches me carefully out of the corner of her eye, but I don’t care. I know that I’m losing my mind, but at this moment, it’s not all bad. It feels like spring … like I’ve shed my scales and am going to get new skin. My apartment is just ahead and I lean against a nearby tree, tilting my face to the sun. I giggle again over the short comment and walk toward my building.
Before I go inside, I call Dr. Still’s office. “Does she have an opening soon, by any chance?”
“She had a 2:30 cancellation. Are you able to make that?”
I look at my watch and have just enough time to eat lunch and go. “I’ll be there,” I promise.
DR. STILL SMILES, BUT it doesn’t quite reach her eyes. I feel like a little girl getting scolded when I sit down across from her.
“So, you’ve missed your last handful of appointments. You lucked out getting in today on a cancellation,” she says.
“I know. Thank you so much for seeing me. I’m sorry for missing—I’m going to do better.” As I say it, I surprise myself by meaning it. “I’m going to make every effort to come regularly. And to stay on my medication. I had a good stretch and it made me think I could handle not taking it.”
I look at her sheepishly and fold my hands in my lap. She nods and waits to see if I’ll say more.
“I then hit bottom, I guess you could say … and I know I’m probably never going to be normal. I mean, who is normal, anyway?” I laugh awkwardly. “But I don’t want to sabotage all my relationships anymore. I don’t want new compulsions to start. Today I wanted to yank my hair out just to get rid of anxiety. It’s part of why I called to see if I could come in. I know once I start something like that, I’ll just have a new issue to try to get rid of…”