April 17th 2002
She was letting him slip.
Spending too much time touching the glass that separated her from her husband, no human touch, because she felt guilty. Trying to make up for the months she lost in attempts to get revenge on him—you want her to sleep with other people, she'll cut you off altogether. But in trying to get back into Stan's good graces, if she was ever out of them and uncertain she wanted to still be in them to begin with, she started to distance herself from Will. And that was the last thing she wanted.
The only time she felt a reconnection with him lately was after she came home from visiting Stan. Once she mustered up the courage to start going to the prison on her own, she stopped telling him where she was going. And where Stan once felt overjoyed to see her, he now seemed as though he had better things to do. She didn't want to be there, but she felt she needed to be, and if he was not going to appreciate the effort she was making to support him, she wasn't going to make an effort to seem happy to see him. On the way home, she always felt alone and unwanted. But she knew that when she opened the door, Will would give her what she desired.
So after her visits with Stan, she would make love to Will.
It was her way of knowing that he would always be there for her. The way he tenderly caressed her skin and the soft kisses to her lips reassured her that yes, she was loved. Yes, she was wanted. Yes, she would never be abandoned, no matter what she may feel from anyone else. But she couldn't bear telling him where she had been. She didn't want to make him feel like this was a competition. Even if it was, he was winning, hands down.
Karen went to visit Stan today, and stayed later than usual. She was trapped; he began talking about what they would do once he got out—"We could take a trip, Karen. Wherever you want to go. We could slip away for a couple of weeks. Catch up, try to get back to normal." She knew he never really meant that; she could tell that his heart wasn't in it when he said those things. They seemed like filler, like he was just saying what came to his mind first so he could bridge the gap. Going through the motions to make it seem like her trip wasn't a complete waste of time.
To be honest, it pissed her off.
When she got home, she continued the tradition with Will. He was beside her, sleeping, had been for an hour now. He should know by now; leaving her to her own thoughts was never good. Giving her time to think about the situation was usually disastrous. She stared at the ceiling, listened carefully to the sound of his even breathing. She wanted to know what he was dreaming about. If she was in his mind.
She knew that she promised Stan that things would go back to the way they were. And he seemed so happy about it at first, but now it seemed as though he could care less. So should she even keep that promise? Would it be so bad if she just took the rest of her things and left? Something he experienced during his time there made him realize that the life he had led with her was not all that it was cracked up to be. Maybe that was a blessing to the both of them.
But she was worried about Will. She felt like he was beginning to slip from her grasp, and it was all her fault. She was too wrapped up in making sure Stan didn't suspect anything that she started to lose what meant the most to her. Even in the way he fell asleep next to her. She looked in his direction. His back was turned to her, unlike most nights when he would wrap her in his arms and hold her through the night. She felt like she was betraying him by going to the prison. And she couldn't take it.
The one thing in her life that was going right, and she found a way to screw it up.
She felt it again; that lump in her throat. Something she had been getting used to, but still hated to show. Karen got out of bed and felt a chill when she was free from the sheets; Will had opened the bedroom window, letting the air of an unusually cold night in, something she didn't understand but didn't question. She slipped her robe over her bare skin, and rushed past their discarded clothes lying on the floor to the living room. Made her way to the balcony.
And she broke down.
The tears stung her eyes, but they wouldn't quit. She leaned on the rail for support. She didn't know how to make this one right. Feeling the presence of someone behind her, but not caring at this point, she nearly jumped when she felt arms wrapping around her waist. This was not Will's touch; his was different. She couldn't pick out anyone else's but Will's touch she knew all too well. Grace. It couldn't be anyone else.
"He loves you," she said. Karen couldn't look at her, and truth be told, Grace didn't need her to.
"I know. I just think that…"
"You're wrong. You're not here to see him when you're gone. He waits for you. You're not going to lose him. You're just in a funk because of Stan, but you'll get out of it. Trust me. Your connection with him is too strong for it to break that easily."
Karen broke free from Grace's grasp, turned to face her as she dried her eyes. "Why are you doing this?" she asked. They hadn't talked about what went on between she and Will, and she wasn't sure if she wanted to start now. "Why are you being so nice to me?"
"Because I've seen how happy you make him. And how happy he makes you. I have no right to deny you that. You shouldn't deny yourself, either."
Karen gave Grace a small smile as a thank you as she walked back into the apartment. Will was still asleep, back turned towards her side of the bed. She took off her robe and crawled back into bed, ran her fingers along the goosebumps on his skin from the cold coming in from the window before kissing his chill flesh. "I'm sorry," she whispered, planted a kiss in the "L" formed by his neck and shoulder. She repeated those two words, knowing that it wasn't enough, but at least it was a start.
Slowly, he turned onto his back and opened his eyes to find Karen hovering above him. "You didn't do anything," he replied, his voice bogged down by sleep. His naivety made him so charming against the dark of the night. As he took her hand and kissed her palm, she let out a little laugh.
"I messed up. I tried not to distance myself, but…"
"You didn't. I knew you would come back to me." He smiled.
"I don't want to go back there anymore. He seems bored with me. I can't do it. I don't want him. I want to go back to the manse and start getting all of my things out of there. I don't know him anymore."
Karen rested her head on his chest, felt his heart beating against her cheek. No matter what was troubling her, this always calmed her down. She could never explain it. His touch, his heart, his smile. These were the things that let her know that she was going to be okay. "I love you," she whispered. She felt his lips against the crown of her head.
"I can't find the words to tell you how much I love you."
She looked up at him and smiled. He never lied to her; he kept true to his word. Something Stan could never do. Something she always needed. She felt it; this was home. This was the place where she could start over, where she could be happy. Where she could feel alive.
She brought his palm to her lips and kissed it.
"My heart belongs to you," she whispered softly before falling asleep.
