The Woman He Loved
Chapter 10: A Cold Day
By Claudius
For Nellie
Warning: This features some mature content.
Dear Maes,
I hope this letter gets to you quickly. I would like to get your response.
I kept a good front on your leaving. I'm pretty good with the poker face too, though not as enduring as yours. I could lie and say everything is fine and laadeedah...but I think it's time for a little truth in our relationship, and the truth is that I miss you. I miss you so much.
From the two wet dots on the sheet, you can probably know my mood. It hasn't changed with the week. I try to pretend that you're still here in East; that you're just busy. It doesn't work. There was never a week in which I did not see you. How can I possibly pretend you visited me? Although I may be crazy about you, I'm not as crazy as you.
Crazy. It's incredible that this could happen to me, the anti-romantic! I never let anyone sweep me off my feet. Now I wonder how could I have been so numb to such feelings. You waited for my heart to return your love. Thank you for your patience these two years. And now that we're separated, it is now my turn to wait for you. I won't let you down…
I'm not the only one missing you. I visited Rizzie the other day. Gran kept staring around. I guess he was hoping to see you with me…
I met some good people during this week. Dr. ---- Rockbell and his wife Sara. They have a small clinic in their home at Reseembol. They have a beautiful daughter named Winry. She's seven. They are going to Ishbal to set up a clinic. They intend to treat soldiers and civilians from both sides. It is a rare thing that people view the Ishbalans as fellow human beings and not foreign devils. Still, I wish they didn't leave their daughter behind (or left her period)…
I think I've written enough distraction. Please write me soon.
Dear Gracia,
Giving me your tears? Aw, that's sweet of you. I'd do the same, but I think the ink and paper will suffer.
That's my attempt at humor. Truth is I'm getting little of it right now. I'm good writing documents and reports, but a love letter? Now, you know I never gave you any mushy love notes. It's funny, I'm great with talking, but writing is a different matter. I should stick to long distance telephone calls, right?
But you're right; I think being a little realistic is called for. Which brings me back to the 'missing you' part. Would it be corny to say that I feel unfinished without you? Well, so I'm corny! Criticisms fly out the window whenever love is concerned. I miss you so much too. To get your love, and then leave soon after is a crummy deal in a life full of them …
And I adore your love. Don't sell yourself short with the emotional cripple belief. A woman who cares for patients and children like you has always possessed heart. You just had problems finding the right people to show it…I'm sorry about Gran. When I make a visit, let's spend a day with him and Rizzie, huh?
What can I say about Central? It's a huge, busy city. Makes East look like a hamlet. My job at the Court Martial Investigation Division has led me to meeting Fuhrer King Bradley a lot. Yes, the same Fuhrer who changed my choice of weaponry via impaling my wrist in a playful demonstration. But it turns out he's a nice guy to me…even if he freaks out my hand. Yes, my job is going to get tougher. So I'm going to have to work harder… I've been trying to make friends. My happy face does persuade a lot. But I don't think I'll ever have a greater friend than you…and maybe Roy in some small way. The two of you are the only people who ever got to know the real me. BTW, send me more pictures of you. I want to show you off...
Dear Maes,
It's been months since your last visit. Working in the capital must not allow you much time. Not that I'm in any position to complain; the responsibilities of my job have also given me little time to myself. At least our correspondence has remained frequent. If we can't see each other, then we can still write…
What time I do have is spent helping Rizzie and Gran. The less said about Rizzie's life the better. Her son is a different matter! He's getting taller, bigger. He has started walking everywhere. I doubt the combined power of his mother and me can hold him down...
Remember the Rockbells? Just to remind you, the Rockbells are looking for assistance in their Ishbal clinic. They contacted Nurse Schmidt about the possibility of using my own talents. I'm afraid that I hesitated and rejected the offer. The Rockbells and the people of Ishbal would benefit from my help, but it's too late. I must repay your patience with me, Maes. So as I have always done these many months, I will wait for you.
Dear Gracia,
It's been a rough year at Central. I know I should hide the truth, but that's not to your liking, is it? It's an uphill battle as an investigator. Working on the courts hasn't taken me away from seeing violence. I've seen bad things happen to good people. And sometimes the monsters get away with it. I just want to pay them back. But my soul has been through enough cruelty for a lifetime. So I've been training harder on my skill with push-knives. I have to disarm an assailant rather than killing him. I hope that will be enough; I don't want any more blood on my hands. For your sake, and mine.
No doubt you've been hearing rumors of me and another girl. Let me set the story straight. Nothing happened. One day, I met this General Sorch and his daughter Solaris. I was their magnet, constantly meeting them. The General asked me to be courteous to the young lady, escorting her around buildings or dancing with her at parties. Nothing big, at least that's what I believed. Then one night at a social gathering, Sorch makes this big announcement. "May I introduce you all to my future son-in-law!"
I quickly reacted. I announced that there was no engagement whatsoever. I think I got myself in trouble with ex-future-father-in-law. No, I am in trouble. Sure, I could have been more tactful. But there is tact and there is letting people control my life or choose who I want be with. Besides, I'd make a terrible trophy husband with my problems.
Poor Solaris, but poorer you and me if I took her hand in marriage. I am devoted only to you Gracia. For all that girl's status and money, she's a pale copy next to you. Only one shall hold the title of Mrs. Maes Hughes, and it's not Solaris.
Not that this means an announcement or anything to you. After all, it's better to do that face-to-face...
Dear Maes,
I haven't met Solaris. She has my sympathy for having her hopes be dashed. But it was still nasty of her father to snowball you into this engagement.
Forget modesty. I'm glad about your choice. There is not a minority of people who would have done the alternative. Whatever you may perceive yourself, Maes, you are a man of true character and loyalty. That cannot be faked with a smile.
Gran has turned two. He's now talking. It's a joy to see a child growing up. And yet, I miss the baby he once was. Oh here am I, worming into Rizzie's job! It's shameful. I should have children of my own. I'm not getting any younger. Still, I looked older back then. Nurses have come and gone, and the new ones no longer call me an old maid or 'Glacier.' How old I was back then…
Dear Gracia,
Months ago I hinted to some plans for finding 'Mrs. Maes Hughes.' Well, I make no secrets of my intentions, Gracia. Right now things have happened that make that decision very top in my head…
For a while, I've been languishing over menial paperwork. I guess ending trophy bride-to-be's ambitions haven't helped my career much (Don't mess with a Daddy's girl or you get Daddy's wrath). Well, that might change. Command has assigned me a mission. Something I can't tell you about. Not yet. This may require some more distance between the two of us. So you won't be getting any letters from yours truly anytime soon…
Just wait for me, my love. We've been through too much for this relationship to end. When you see me again, there shall come a decision.
Gracia held her newest letter as she headed for the mailbox. The snowfall had made its daunting effect, but nothing could detract her trip. Last winter didn't stop her, so the present one in the last months of 1908 would be of little change. The same could be said for the country. Amestris was still at war with Ishbal. Oh, there was news that it was almost over, decisive victories, the war having been already won, etc. She heard a lot of that in 1907, and 1906, and 1905... Maybe it will never end, or until Ishbal completely ceases to exist. The dread filled her mind, given the evidence of so many dead. Soldiers, civilians, children. Even the Rockbells became casualties. Gracia heard the news the other day at work. Some Ishbalans blew up the clinic with the couple and countless patients inside it. The winter cold played no part in her present feeling.
Death. Gracia thought she could be more mature about it. But it was not impotent to any age, even for one almost twenty-four. It worried her a little about Maes. It had been a long time since she got a letter from him. This mission of his became her priority as well, despite the unknown knowledge of it. She refused to think of the absence of appearance or letters as a sign for the worse. Not that it eased her heart any bit. Three years ago she would think of such feelings as drivel. Sometimes Gracia missed that woman, free of the pangs that now hit her heart. But to never know love, for good or ill? Change was good.
And as Gracia went through this path of thoughts, the path to the mailbox ended. The box had taken on some holy significance, as it has been for many people. Only, like each person, its significance felt important only to her. Romance really makes the ordinary things extraordinary. In a reverent spell, Gracia dropped her letter through the chute. Did Maes even read any of her letters? She thought about his desk being a mess of envelopes, waiting to be read.
"How long will it take for me to get that letter?"
The voice struck Gracia cold. She turned and saw a man before her. He stood next to the lamppost as erect and still. A mess of curls covered the upper part of his head, but the lower part failed the deception. Before her stood Maes Hughes! Minutes passed in Gracia's mind during the seconds of reality. She saw changes of time come to her man. And it proved easy to notice, even for one who took the cover of a Happy Face. No longer short-haired, Maes' black follicles leaked down his head like a messy curly mop. But Gracia saw a more subtle contrast as well. Maes carried sadness in his grinning face. His eyes showed many experiences. They proved the truth of his later letters. At any rate, such rationale mattered little to the woman as she embraced the man. She seemed the more excited one in this loving contact. Her love moaned.
"Be gentle, Gracia," Maes spoke, half plead, half mock. He wiggled anxiously, massaging his shoulder. "Got into a fight with somebody. Ouch!" He emphasized his sensitivity.
"Oh I'm sorry," Gracia apologized, before swinging her attitude. "I meant no offense, Captain."
"That's Major to you," Maes quickly recovered.
This news sent Gracia into a whirl of pride. "Congratulations." She kissed his cheek. "Did this come from the secret mission?"
Hughes tensed a bit. "Yes, mission accomplished." He limited the explanation with silence.
With sensitive thought, Gracia decided to change the subject. "Well, as you just saw, I wrote you a letter."
"Care to recite it for me?" He replied slowly. "Your letters are no substitute for your voice."
"Then you've read them?"
"Yep," Maes sighed. "I could spend the day reading your little 'novel.' Speaking of which, what was in the latest chapter?"
As much as Gracia felt satisfaction, she felt rubbed by the changes in her boyfriend. There was a low tone to his positive remarks. Well, at least Maes was giving out negativity in small doses, rather than suppressing them.
The two reached a bench, where Gracia retold what she wrote down. Then she came to the death of the Rockbells. Maes barely empathized. "I'm sorry."
Gracia disregarded this in her own sadness. "I wish I could have done something."
"And get killed too?" Maes was icy.
Gracia blinked at this coldness, then dispensed it. Time to change the subject. "And how's Roy?"
Maes made another difference. "I would like it if we don't talk about him."
And Gracia felt a twist within herself. The Flame Alchemist shot painfully into her mind. This horrible war! "I'm sorry."
"He's not dead." Hughes snapped his apology. "Just dead to me."
Gracia's relief of Roy's survival was little. Seemed her boyfriend had gained a petty side. And he wasn't altogether content with it. Maes kept quiet for a moment. "Boy, we seem to be stuck in nerve territory." Again, a humor contradicted by a tone anything but. This served to peak Gracia's curiosity. Something did happen to him, perhaps something with Roy. An explanation was demanded, but she decided passivity instead. Fortunately, Maes spoke first. "Some things have happened to me. Some losses. Things like that are hitting me with a sledgehammer about my life. Where am I going, how long do I have?" He mused to some somber epiphany. "With that in mind," He hung his head. "I can't go wasting my life. On the day I do go, I don't want any regrets."
A serious Maes Hughes was talking now: Gracia knew this to be important.
Maes got on his knees. Gracia had the utter recognition. Her heart jumped. She beheld his hard eyes on her as he took out a small box. "Will you marry me?" His intentions opened with the box, and the ring inside.
Gracia did not think of aging or making Maes happy. She thought of her own happiness. Excited, she gasped as if to laugh. "Yes, I will."
Maes arose. He did not embrace her at all. That was Gracia's job to do so. Soon her finger glowed with the ring.
"I've saved a little. And I'll make more as a Major." Maes spoke seriously. Gracia was too distracted from the shine of her ring. The man was just being practical. She hugged and kissed him.
"Just wait until I tell Aunt Anya, Rizzie, and the staff!"
Hughes was calm. "Gonna tell your father?"
The ring lost its lustrous power. Gracia took to the reality. "Oh yes, I forgot. Dad."
"You're not going to change your mind, are you?" Hughes questioned a little nervously.
"Of course not. But father…"
"He's not the one getting married."
"Right." Gracia jumped to the point. She had spent the last year making her old man comfortable to her relationship with Maes. So far, she had little success. Well, this time the man was going to accept his new son-in-law! "We'll go now." Gracia arose from the bench. She was going to start the most important event of her life. No more feet dragging!
Maes slowly followed her lead. Slowly. The leaden step of his walk was another change.
Gracia and Maes went to her house. Gracia was emotional about the outcome, contrasting with her cool fiancee. Together they would announce their engagement to father. That came the plan. Why was she so anxious about it? It all came down to father. Would he care that his only daughter was getting married? Actually, 'caring' from her father was a stretch. Well, all that will happen behind the door.
"Ready when you are." Gracia shared her decisiveness with Maes. But she entered the house first. In the hall, Mr. Stern had come out of his study. His appearance impressed Gracia, almost causing her to forget her plan. Almost. Professor Johann Stern looked analytically at the new presence. "Good Evening, Captain Hughes. My daughter did not inform me of your presence." He looked with a growing brow. Maes remained aloof.
"Father, great news!" Gracia announced the news headfirst. She was the only one making the announcement. "Maes and I are getting married!" She displayed her ring. Here it comes…
Johann Stern did not make a completely cold action to this news. Up went the eyebrow. There was no strong reaction, just words to his daughter. "Gracia, can you please speak with me in private?"
Gracia looked at Maes. She was confident. Maes was statuesque. She separated from him and went to the study. Gracia told her father her plans to become a nurse here. It was always a place of important situations. She steeled herself to the expectant results.
Johann sat at his chair, fingers folded together in meditative stance. "Have you thought much on your decision?" Before Gracia could speak, the man quickly continued. "Are you being serious about your choice?" His mention on the last two words came rather strong.
"Yes, I have," Gracia equally emphasized her point.
"Is this man right for you?" Johann raised his voice to an unusually loud tone.
Gracia was dumbfounded. After a year of describing her boyfriend, how could her father refuse to admit his importance to her? But that detail was a smaller one to this uncommon behavior. Her father could give simple indifference or a negative passing thought. She expected that from him. Instead she got a strong objection. Her father had never argued much with her in any situation. To this surprise tactic, all Gracia could do now is speak calmly to him. "Dad, I…"
"Don't do this," Johann spit out, his face sagging vulnerability.
Gracia failed to continue. Was this her father, the stoic intellectual who could speak dozens of reasons? All he could muster was 'Don't do this'?
"Now, father. I am a grown woman."
"You are my daughter!" The father sprung to her, making no contact save emotionally. He retreated with awkwardness. "I...know that you're older. I just..." The man who could speak lectures to students found difficulty in speaking to his own daughter. And it was enough to strike Gracia deep.
The man rubbed his forehead. "I…know I have not been a close father. It's who I am. Your mother handled it better." The man spoke and acted in things unfamiliar to his persona. "But ever since she died, I've done all I was able to. And you have been there for me, always." The man's shield, his intellect, failed him as he cringed to the chair. "Don't do this. Don't leave."
Such admission froze Gracia. Near twenty-four years had cemented her with a solid view of her father. Not the extreme exhaustive emotions he gave now. Johann Stern lingered between calm, frustration, and anger - A painful coalition for any witness. "You can't leave. You're all I have."
Gracia wavered on this man who suddenly was not her father. The emotions he gave opened a hope that lied dormant in her. Years passed as she waited for this recognition. Once upon a time, she would be glad. But this time she was not ready. What can she say? Wishful thinking gave her little readiness in words. But she did something her father once rejected years ago. She hugged her father. "It will be alright."
It was a reflex she spoke. Not a solution. And then Gracia realized the complexity of her situation. Its heavy burden stomped upon her overwhelmingly. She stood up with a sick feeling and left the room. How to handle this she didn't know at this moment. As a result, five minutes passed in her indecision. At its end, Gracia went to her fiancee. With a mouth filled with lead she spoke. "Maes?" Nothing. She spoke again. Nothing was the response. She came down the steps. No one was in the hall. Maes was absent. His coat was missing. The lack of evidence gave Gracia the given conclusion. Maes had departed. He left her!
In this striking truth, the woman felt nothing as she walked to the front door. Her face felt a prick of cold near her eyes. Her father entered her presence. Gracia gazed at him with her upset face. The man had a calmer face, not unhappy. "I told you so." Then the man turned away.
Gracia kept to her spot. Now those pricks lined her cheeks. And the moment had come. One decision made, the other denied. Gracia wiped her face. She walked upstairs to her choice. Indeed, the choice had been already decided the moment she left her father's study.
A suitcase was on the bed, opened. Gracia had several pairs of clothes share space with her nurse uniform. A hand-mirror, a brush, and jewelry, all her mother's, were carefully removed from the table and taken into the case. Added to it were some pictures. Finally came the push-knife. That remained outside. The case was shut, the valuables of her life inside it. Grasping both knife and case like glue, Gracia returned to the hall. She put on her shoes and coat, slipping the knife into her purse. Everything was done meticulously without a misstep. How this happened was a wonder.
And then Gracia saw her father, giving his usual monolithic presence. Only its impression had deteriorated since the hour. He had changed in Gracia's eyes, and not for the better. The factor was not his behavior in the study; it was his refusal to continue doing so.
"Where are you going?"
Gracia sighed, wrapping a scarf around her neck. "After Maes."
The man was hit, or as hit as a man of his demeanor could be. "Is that your choice?" He coldly asked.
"Yes, father."
Johann grimaced. "I don't think…"
"Your thinking has no bearing on it," Gracia sharply interrupted the man. She tried to be cold, but her voice came out as understanding in its finality. "Ever the rationalist. I know you now. Why you've approached intellect. Taking the objective gives you distance."
The man kept his stance, despite this vulnerable hit.
"Maybe that's how you've endured mother's death. Analysis is your shield from feeling." Gracia raised her hand to her father's cheek.
The man refused. "It's who I am." Not a confession. His acceptance. Now the father who acknowledged her importance seemed like a dream. Its own truth hurt Gracia, but it did not weaken her stance. She rued her actions as she was committed to them.
"And I almost became you. For a while, I used mind over heart. I actually thought you were the perfect model of a man. Of what a man really is. And then I met Maes Hughes. Whenever he came to me with words of love, I suspected the worst of him. Instead I found him a warm, caring soul. I soon considered him the exception of mankind. Turns out you are."
Johann did nothing to these first insults Gracia ever gave him. All emotions had been spent an hour ago. He just turned away with condescension. "He'll break your heart." His words lacked paternity, but cold punishment. "When that happens, don't ever come back here!"
Gracia marshaled everything as she turned to the door. An inner battle had ended with a costly victory. "At least I'll have a heart to break." And by her last words, Gracia walked out of her home. It was not easy.
The snow increased as the light faded. But Gracia made her journey to the inn where Maes stayed temporarily. Temporarily. The word gave the desperation of her trip. Let him be there. Gracia's messages of hope collided with remonstrations on herself. You've made some really bad mistakes in the past. What you've done now tops them!
Well, it wasn't exactly that. Gracia knew her choice. But she waited too long to enact it. Her intelligence came to a scenario. Maes must have overheard or taken a peek of her confrontation with father, made a conclusion and left. Idiot! Why do people hear a part of a conversation and think they got the whole idea? Then again, she has done the same before. Well she fixed those problems, so she'll fix this! She made her choice. And she chose Maes. And she will remember what she didn't choose. The right thing doesn't automatically mean freedom from some unhappiness.
Yes, she was rationalizing things. Old habits died hard. Gracia sighed as much as she could without breaking down. The cold and wind were better forces than the battles within herself. What a mad rush her life has become! It started with sending a letter and now she was forever estranged from father. And Maes was…
Gracia shrugged the possible logic. It was all a big misunderstanding. She loved Maes, who loved her, or once did. Her thoughts switched from rational to heart. Did he still want her now, after what he thought she did? Well, she'll tell him the truth and all will hopefully be well. Hopefully.
She came to the small inn. One part of the journey has been completed. On entry her first task was to calmly ask the manager. He said a Maes Hughes was indeed residing here. Gracia barely let out a breath. She turned to a sofa and waited. And waited and waited.
The door opened, a gust of cold wind blew through. Here did Maes enter the lobby. No mirth shined on his face, darkened with a scowl. "What are you doing here?" He asked indifferently.
Gracia couldn't read the emotion behind that question. "I'm here."
Maes indifferently removed his coat.
"I left my father." Gracia spoke hard words. "You thought I chose him. But you're wrong."
Maes passed her. "Go back, if there's still time."
"Maes. I can't go back."
"You have to," Maes' voice strongly demanded his wish. "The last thing I want to do is break up a family."
"I can't do that anymore, Maes."
"Tough." Maes hissed as he walked away.
The cruelty surprised Gracia. "Maes, wait! I'm sorry if…"
"You're sorry?" Hughes now turned to her. His face, which could be as happy as a cherub, showed the darker likeness of a devil. Eyes glowed with sparks, mouth twisted, voice loud. "Okay, so you're sorry! Well, it's too late for that!"
Several of the attendants noticed Hughes' righteous rage and its target. "For years I have scheduled myself to your insecurities, your inabilities to commit. No more." He shrugged away, making an attempt at moderation. "You blew it."
"That's not fair," Gracia sighed to his accusations. She kept her head erect, holding back all the destruction in her. Inside her heart sagged and bled. Any attempt to sooth her hurt was like putting a few drops of water on a blazing fire. "You're not being fair!"
"Nothing is," Maes smoldered in behavior if not emotion. "I've had it. I almost died. I don't want to waste what's left of my life on some indecisive female."
And Gracia took the cruelty and rejection with silence. Maes had made his decision. And she had made her choice. If Maes wanted nothing of her, then she would…go somewhere else. And he will not see her cry. Gracia pulled the ring out of her finger, and the knife out of her purse. "Take these back." She waved the knife handle, the ring inside her palm. "If you want nothing of me, than I'll have nothing of you." Those invulnerable words were mouthed. Her hand clutched the blade without weakness.
Maes turned to her. He snatched the blade free. The ring banged the floor with music. And the man caught one last look at her. His scowl crumbled into a horrified shock.
Gracia looked at her bloodied hand. The sudden sting hit her with full force, shattering her weak defenses. Maes dropped the push-knife, which made a less beautiful music in its landing. He gave it no attention. He grabbed Gracia's wounded hand, applying a handkerchief to the palm to stop the bleeding.
"It's okay," Gracia gritted her resolve, refusing to be a target of worry. "I've never been squeamish about blood…" A calm reply, more deserving of a calmer situation. Right now, too much had happened to maintain her stance.
But Maes still touched her hand. He stiffened, only raising his face. His lime eyes met Gracia's own, lighting up again. With a smooth pull, he took Gracia's hand to his lips and kissed it. The kiss grew bigger, his mouth practically close to swallowing her hand. He embraced her with a wild abandon of his coldness. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry!" He held her tight. Then he began kissing her. Gracia allowed it.
There came a sound of clapping. What a show for these people!
Maes darted out, pulling Gracia with him. Together they ran to his room. It was as if fate had them as puppets, emotions guiding their actions. With his lips still within hers, Maes pushed the door open and pulled Gracia into the room. Pressured to the wall, Gracia felt Maes as he grabbed her blouse. Both had full knowledge of the consequences. They surrendered with fright and resolution. Maes touched the top button of her blouse, freeing it. His fingers did the same to the others, growing impatient in their emancipation. The final ones had to be torn off. Gracia's bra-cupped breasts came exposed, soon to be stripped as well! Gracia grabbed Maes' shirt in turn, helping him undo it.
"No!" Maes broke contact. He backed away, embracing himself. "I forgot…" A look of shame grew on his face.
Returning to reality, Gracia stared at him confused, shocked. Her lover looked very scared. "Maes…what happened?"
From his face, Maes looked as if he fought for his choice to answer her. For a minute he hesitated on some ugly truth. Then he slowly pulled his shirt off. The full damage on his body was completely revealed to Gracia's vulnerable eyes.
"Those weren't from a fight," Gracia asked with growing discovery. "Were they?" Maes had been tortured! It explained a lot.
Maes kept his face hidden in a haunted bow. "I got into some trouble." The smoothness of his convictions dwindled. "I know, Gracia. I know. I'm a mess. A far cry from the physical I gave you years ago."
Indeed it was, thought Gracia. Mortality now emphasized its reality upon Maes' ravaged form. His body was still well muscled. But the smooth, polished beauty of his physique she first glimpsed years ago? It was no more.
Of course, she did not love him back then.
The vulnerable man grabbed for his shirt, turning away. "I understand. You…"
Gracia touched his chin, pushing his shamed face to see her. She hoped her face showed nothing of disgust, for that lack was truly there. She kissed him. "Make love to me, Maes." Her skin leaned upon his rough body. "Please make love to me."
Gracia felt no reciprocation. Maes' arms remained hanging. To embrace or refuse were equally possible. But a moment of disappointment vanished when strong hands caressed her bare back. Then his lips warmed upon hers. Confidence strengthened Gracia with its brave power. She shared it with Maes.
Gracia awoke. As dimness ebbed, her thoughts opened to the last time she was awake. Her mind photographed everything. The ceiling. Maes' face. A dangling dog tag. A bare leg. A naked shoulder. The bed sheets covering their shapely bodies. But it was the touching that really mattered. Their lips moving, as if to cover every part of the body: she rubbed and kissed his skin, his muscles, and his scars. Nothing was avoided, or maintained; the strong feelings pressed upon her to touch more of his body. And how Maes loved her! Gracia felt like a balloon being inflated. Soon she would explode. And she did just that: Her loud gasp eased to an attempt to gain sanity in such a chaotic ritual. One that was ever blissful.
It was a good remembrance. And Gracia awoke to see the empty part of the bed. Her hand rubbed the cold side. Maes hadn't slept in it? This proof contradicted with his actions. The coldness of before did not exist in his hot, spontaneous lovemaking. Before any old fears rose up, the sound of a shower drowned them.
Assurance then came. Gracia snapped a grin, falling back on the bed. Rusty bedspring noise sounded in the impact. Did the bed make noise? Gracia had been naïve to the flaw. The noise had to have happened, considering the action on it. Guess the noise had been drowned out by the sounds they made. The experience caused her much glee, her arms embracing herself in a flash of embarrassment, acceptance, shame, and joy. She had made love, had sex, lost her virginity, got deflowered; every phrase of that intimacy moved her. The nervous fears seemed a memory. It was like learning how to ride a bike or swim. Scared at first, but glad it was done, with the future excitement of more to come!
The room became memorized to her eyes and mind. It was pale and threadbare, with a rusty bed, and plain brown sheets. Not quite the lavish bordello, but it was the nicest room to make love in anyway. Gracia indulged in her pleasure. Not that ecstasy was complete, as the other consequences still wavered. Father. Gracia's face felt the pillow. It gained some moist tears. Wish Maes was with her, she thought.
That can be arranged. Gracia got up from the bed. The fall of the covers revealed her nakedness. She remedied this by garbing in Maes' shirt. This was temporary, for as soon as she entered the bathroom, she became naked again. She opened the curtains. Maes' wet backside came to her view. His muscles tensed as he slowly turned. "Uh…you don't have to…"
But the nude Gracia already entered the shower. On this day, anything went! "Turn around."
Maes turned back to the shower.
"Don't worry. I've given sponge baths before." Gracia frothed her hands with soap. She kept a pleasing voice despite the hurt of her eyes. Maes looked like a human zebra, as his form had an army of stripes from the neck to the thighs. These marks came long and thin, short and wide. They crossed his back horizontally, vertically, or diagonally. The green dragon tattoo on his shoulder was untouched, though surrounded by a mark here and there.
On the whole, the marks weren't too severe, except for two very large tears. One wound from his shoulder blade to his pectoral. Another ranged on the opposite side below the ribs. The torturers must have changed instruments, she thought objectively. And the scars were kept in the objective.
Gracia applied her soapy hands on his back. Hughes cringed. "Did it hurt?"
"Not anymore," Maes weakly denied. "It's been a month. You can play connect the dots on me." 'Happy Face' Hughes spoke now.
"Maes," Gracia interrupted firmly. "It's alright."
Hughes' head stilled for a moment, than sank into the wall. His response was serious.
"I never saw myself as vain. But when you start out as a picked-on fat kid, then turn into a buff hunk, you get a little proud of yourself." He shook his head. "I must be ugly to you."
"It's nothing to be ashamed of." Gracia lay on her lover's back. Maes did nothing. Then he spoke, his face hidden in the 'rain.' "I did some undercover work, in disguise. I got found out. Got paid big time." Maes spoke obscurely. "They…said I had the physique of a statue. They decided to crack it."
Gracia blotted out the dark imagination from her mind. She turned to face his injuries.
"I kept my mouth shut. Don't know how." Maes' hands closed to fists, squeezing in pressure.
Gracia tried to soften his intensity. "It's nothing, dear."
"No!" Maes raised his voice. "You don't understand. They got into me. I wasn't raped, but I feel…violated." He beat the wall. "I'm glad they're dead." It was a voice uncertain on how to treat such a curse.
Gracia closed her eyes.
"I don't want to feel this way." He hissed. "Vulnerability sucks."
"No," Gracia stayed firm to Maes' anger. "You're wrong."
His shoulders quivered with a flinch. He dug his head deeper into the sprinkling water. "Gracia…please leave."
And so Gracia released him from her embrace. Her intelligence protected her. Using the water to hide his tears. She knew it. But Hughes was hiding again, from her. She knew that too. She walked out of the shower. Without thinking, she grabbed a towel and dried herself.
There came the return to the bed. Rather than pull on some clothing, Gracia got under the covers. She pooled them around her breasts. Perhaps he was in the mood for more? Maybe not. Gracia grasped at straws. And yet the woman sat up in bed, awaiting the silhouette of her lover's naked form to appear. Instead she got a voice. "Gracia?"
"Yes?" She shivered for the consequences.
"Please turn off the light."
Gracia did so, adding darkness as a cover.
"Please turn around."
With disappointment, Gracia did as asked. She looked to the plain wall. The bed quaked, the bedsprings squeaked, and the blanket pulled. Maes now lay next to her, completely covered in blankets. Only his head stuck out, with a face that could not look at her.
Still the woman was unruffled. She sunk her hand into the covers, feeling for his muscled flesh.
"Gracia, please." Maes sounded agitated. "We have to get up tomorrow morning."
Gracia recoiled her arm from Maes and turned again to the wall. Her body coddled itself. For a night of such intimacy, the lovers slept its remainder very alienated.
To be continued
For an account of Maes' torture and his estrangement from Roy, read Memories of a Best Friend.