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But in a goodbye bed
With my arms around your neck
Into our mouths the tears crept
Just kids in the eye of the storm
- Daniel by Bat for Lashes
We stopped going to couples therapy months ago.
According to the counsellor, I 'needed more time'.
I'm not entirely sure what she meant back then—I was just glad we stopped. Yet sometimes when I had a moment alone, when I sat on the living room couch and watched the sky outside drop to a color between copper and bright pink—perhaps like the color of my heart—maybe I knew exactly what she meant.
Couples therapy. It was a little like someone was parting my ribcage with their bare hands while I lay awake, silent. All with good intentions of course, because all they wanted to do was to de-thorn my sheathed heart. They pulled at the vines that imprisoned me and helplessly, I tore. I tore hard, but they didn't let go. I didn't want them to.
Because even when wrapped up tight by something this painful, I was protected, guarded. One way to be safe.
Vulnerability was pain. So I let the vines surround me like a home I never wanted.
My own personal therapist, on the other hand, I could happily ignore. Her voice was a lullaby, disappearing into the baby blue background of her room.
When Edward wasn't in the room with me, somehow things were easier, fuzzier. I was lost inside the wanderings of my mind. I escaped like I always did, and in that time, I was alone the biggest pretender in the world.
"How are you feeling, Bella?" Geraldine Cope asked, wisps of blonde hair falling from her chignon.
She must have been around fifty years old. She had a mellow voice and piercing blue eyes. They screamed of the kind of wisdom that came from listening to too many heartbreaking stories. I didn't mind blue eyes; it was the clear green eyes, the color of pine, that made my world topsy-turvy.
"Fine," I answered rigidly.
Just fine.
"And by that you mean...?"
I stared at her perfectly manicured fingers. I couldn't remember the last time I'd had a manicure. I couldn't remember the last time I took time out for myself, yet I had all the time in the world when I sat on my couch and stared at the TV.
She changed tack when I didn't answer.
"How is Edward?"
"Sad."
"Has he told you that?"
My eyes scanned the books on her shelf: Incognito: the secret life of the brain; What does it mean to be Human?; Flourish: a visionary new understanding of happiness and wellbeing; Darkness visible.
"No."
"Then how do you know?"
I looked at her. I know him as surely as the air that I breathe.
"I feel it."
She nodded and scribbled something down
"Have you talked to him at all yet? Talked about what happened?"
I shook my head. "Not since …" I swallowed. "Not in a long time."
"Do you think it's time, Bella? Perhaps it's time to talk to him, maybe even try couples therapy again. What do you think? Could you give it another go?" Her voice is soothing.
I watched her garden through the window of her office.
A lone red swing swayed back and forth on its own, like it was waiting for somebody to sit on it and let the wind run through their messy, chaotic hair while they giggled and kicked their legs higher, higher.
"No."
More scribbling.
"Can I ask why you feel that way, Bella?"
I swallowed and straightened in my seat. "I think I'm done for today."
~~~~X~~~~
It was that time of the day.
The hours after dinner stretched on forever and sleep took too long to call. This used to be my favorite time of the day. Fully sated, we would often lie under the afghan with our feet touching and fill in the gaps of our hours apart. Sometimes our chatter would lead to a comfortable silence; Edward would watch TV and I would catch up on my reading. Other times he would stroke his feet on mine, too purposefully, up my leg—I had always been too ticklish—and oh … I'd smile too wide from underneath my hand because I'd always been terrible at playing the nonchalance game where Edward was concerned. Whether it was rough and passionate or soft and tender, our lovemaking was always intense. The bring-you-to-your-knees type of intense—that's how we loved.
Now, that redundant time between dinner and bed-time spoke of too many empty hours. There was too much quiet, too much left unsaid.
Edward was out on the balcony and if I looked at him from where I sat on this side of the glass wall that separated us, I could see the dark chocolate of his hair, the back of his head highlighted occasionally by streaks of red—a perfect blend to the setting sun.
I turned off the TV, stood up from my spot and folded up the afghan, trying not to think about what he was thinking so hard about because one guess and I'd be right.
I tried not to contemplate the elegant curve of his back in that simple white t-shirt, or the way his jeans hung a little too low as he placed the half-empty wine glass on the ledge to his left. His hands were on the rail as he leaned forward on his toes in a graceful stretch, flexing his arms and taking in the scene below him. Even from behind, he was kind of beautiful and it hit me that it'd been so long since I'd run my fingers over his warm skin.
Edward used to say 'your touch warms me up everywhere, B, especially right here' and he'd place my hand over his heart and I'd feel the thrumming underneath my skin—love running through his veins, heating me up from my fingertips to my soul.
So long ago.
I didn't realize I was still staring until Edward turned his stubbled profile toward me, and his eye caught me like a thief snatching stolen glances.
Maybe he could feel me too.
That's all it took. That single second where his eyes met mine, my heart stopped and my skin hummed and warmed.
Clear green eyes, a darkened pine. Tender and filled with unspoken questions—already they told me more than he was saying, and I understood all of it.
Unspoken words left his mouth, flying through the glass, barricading me.
Why? They repeated.
I didn't have answers.
I sought them too.
It'd been a long time since we'd looked, really looked like this. I finally saw him and of course, it still hurt.
Silent declarations tore us apart, disillusion shadowing our path and dirty desolation beckoning our future.
Time was slow motion, those relentless minutes went on, and something wavered and simmered as we stood locked in our wordless trance. Turning stronger, fervent, full of need. Yearning to be satisfied.
Edward was surrounded in pink hue, making him look more real, more alluring to my senses, like some untouchable wonderer who'd just found an oasis in a desert, although I would do nothing to quench his thirst. I never did. I was a mirage.
My heart kick-started and pounded dramatically in my chest as I stood in the middle of the apartment, with the afghan forgotten in my left hand. You wouldn't be able to tell how hard it was beating, I was so still. Both of us were. I didn't feel the afghan fall to the floor until it hit my feet and even then I didn't flinch.
I could feel the sweat on my back and dampness starting to pool between my legs, because despite the distance, despite what my head said about how much I wanted him to leave me so he could be happy, my body still needed him, still knew him.
My heart continued its ferocious drum in my chest and my palms tingled and sweat.
I wondered if his pupils dilated with need or was it just me imagining it?
I took a deep breath and then another and then I was breathing too fast and I knew he noticed it because Edward noticed everything about me. There was a small shift in his body too, as he straightened. More alert, like he was about to take action. A primal man that just wanted.
My mouth opened, because maybe I might step forward … just a little. Would this once really be so bad?
His eyes devoured me, licking at the edges of my consciousness, beckoning.
One step, that's all I needed and I knew he'd do the rest of the work and—
Edward flinched.
The cigarette had shrivelled into a small stub in his fingers, burning him; he dropped it to the floor, cursing.
I looked away, trying to stop the world spinning, wishing there was something or someone to hold on to so I could steady myself as I came back to my senses. I pushed the unfulfilled hunger back to where it belonged. Underneath, back to non-existence.
I picked up the afghan and almost ran into the bedroom without another glance backward.
That night I tossed and turned. It was no different from other nights when I tossed and turned, waiting for Edward, except my mind was buzzing and my skin was vibrating with a weird type of charge, like one touch might set me alight. I hadn't really seen him like this in a long time, he hadn't touched me in longer, yet still I only rested when he came to bed.
That night, he didn't come.
~~~~X~~~~
I didn't think there would be a date one, let alone a date four, yet here I was.
But he hadn't kissed me yet. Maybe it was the cross—Edward didn't exactly strike me as someone who waited too long for what he wanted and I knew he wanted to kiss me. His eyes more often than not lingered on my mouth, his fingers tangled with mine, and when he said something he would lean too close so I could feel the heat of his breath warm my ear.
The cross always made the boys question themselves though. Was I a virgin? Was I going to make them wait until marriage? If they made a move, would I want them to go to church with me? All of it made me want to roll my eyes. It wasn't like that—at least not for me. I'd had sex in the past and I'd had boyfriends; it was just that I had faith in someone outside of me. Was that really so weird?
The day was warm but carried a gentle breeze, just enough so that my hair carried in the direction of the wind and whipped at my neck. Central Park was packed, and we dodged dog walkers and children as they ran past us, and I was always aware of how reluctant Edward was to let go of my hand.
"Okay," Edward mused. "Three things you most love?"
"Good one. Hmm ..." I bit my lip in contemplation. "When the sun sets, my close friends and family and ... God."
"Have you always been religious?"
"Not really. I wouldn't say I'm religious—I mean, maybe not at all—but faith helped me get through the death of my mom. Like it didn't make a lot of sense to me, but believing … well, it helped a lot... there's a bigger plan. There has to be."
"Perhaps," he nodded and I loved the way he looked toward the ground and his eyebrows furrowed together when he was thinking of something hard. I wondered what he was thinking. I wanted to get into his head and make him spill all his deepest thoughts, and somehow hand-holding in the park wasn't enough.
"It feels right," I said, gently touching the cross at my neck. "Anyway, what about you? Three things that you love most about your life."
"Easy. Nature, medicine and coffee. All three completely essential, though I wished I loved coffee a bit less."
I laughed as we turned a corner, to a thicker patch of green. It was much quieter and I let Edward lead me toward a stranded tree. "It can get pretty addictive, I guess. Especially with all that partying."
He was grinning as we stood closer under the shadow of the tree. "There's always room for more."
"More partying?"
"Nah." He clicked his tongue, and put his hands firmly on my hips. An electric thrum enveloped my body when he pulled me closer, and when spoke I was a little breathless.
"Addictions? You sound like you have one on your mind."
"Yep." His fingers tangled in my hair and all I saw was pine and green when he spoke low and sweet. "You."
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Until next time x