-Day 49-
When I wake up, she's already up. She did go to sleep earlier than I did, after all, but I hate that I didn't get to wake up with her in my arms. I can just make out the sound of the telly in the living room, and I can tell she has the sound low. She's being as quiet as a church mouse because she doesn't want to disturb me.
I'm telling her today. That's all there is to it. It's eating at me. I need to tell her.
So, why am I hiding in my room?
Because I'm afraid. I honestly don't know what's going to happen.
The definition of insanity.
It's time to do something different.
I've been doing things differently with her, yes, but this is something so different that it's scary. This is something completely under my control to disclose or not.
And I don't know how she's going to react.
But I can't let that stop me. I cannot let my fear of the unknown continue to let me hide behind my curse and not fully open myself up to the woman I love.
First things first. Basic bodily functions.
I get up and pee. I see a new toothbrush in my toothbrush holder, and I smile a bittersweet smile. She did bring one. Then I pull on my (freshly-cleaned) pajama bottoms and a t-shirt.
I take a deep breath and open my bedroom door. She must have closed it when she got up this morning, because we left it open last night.
"Good morning, sleepyhead," she says, peeking over the back of the couch at me.
"Hey, I was up a lot later than you were," I say, smiling a little.
"The kettle is still pretty hot if you want some tea," she says.
"Maybe later," I say. I lean over and kiss her forehead, but then sit in my recliner instead of joining her on the couch. I can tell she's a little puzzled and disappointed, but I can't sit that close to her or I'll get distracted and lose my nerve.
"Did you sleep well?" she asks.
"Mmm-hmm," I say absently, just staring at her. She's so beautiful. Her hair is still in the two braids from yesterday, but they're coming loose in places, giving her a slightly frizzy halo effect that, were she aware of it, she would probably hate.
She looks well-rested and bright. The change of scenery was good for her, indeed.
She reaches for her teacup, regarding me a little self-consciously, I think. She takes a drink.
How can I break her heart like this?
"Arthur?" she asks finally, "where are you?"
"I… I need to tell you something, Guinevere," I say quietly. There. It's out. Sort of. What I mean is that there's no going back now.
She sets her cup down. "What is it?"
I take a deep breath. "I… I've wanted to tell you this for so long… and I almost did, twice now. I really wanted to, I promise you I did, but I was too scared. I didn't know what would happen. What you would say. I still don't know how you'll react, actually…" I trail off a moment, fidgeting in my seat. She's watching me expectantly.
She has no idea about what's going to come out of my mouth. I also realize that my palms are sweating and my stomach is clenched and I'm feeling cold and sweaty again because I do not, in fact, know how she's going to react, and it scares me a lot more than I want to admit.
She could leave me today. This morning. I rake my hand through my hair, my fingers catching on some tangles remaining from the night, and it pulls sharply against my scalp. That pain is almost comforting, because it's reliable. I know what causes it and how to make it stop.
This pain is scary and indefinable, because while I know what's causing it, I don't know how to make it stop. Yet.
Once this is out, it's all up to her. She's in control of the amount of pain I'm about to feel. I'm scared, but I have to trust her.
"Arthur?" she prompts softly.
"Sorry… this is… just… really scary for me," I say, wrapping my arms around my body, almost retreating into myself. I suddenly feel cold and sweaty again. "Um… where was I?"
"You wanted to tell me something but you didn't know how I would react," she says, her voice still soft, gentle. Almost soothing. She looks a little worried, but she's waiting with the patience of a saint.
I take a deep breath again. "Right… So, last Sunday morning when I went home I decided that I was going to tell you, that I had to tell you, but then I got back to your flat and you were curled in a ball on the bathroom floor, all sick and helpless and of course I couldn't do it then because getting you to hospital was more important, and so I kind of forgot about it because I was worried about you, really worried, especially when the surgery took longer than I was expecting. Then this week, well, you were recovering and I had the groundbreaking, and…"
"Arthur," she finally interrupts. "I'm dying over here. Just tell me already, please, whatever it is!"
"I guess I was rambling, huh?"
"Yeah. A lot." She has her hands clasped tightly together in her lap now. She's nervous, but she's trying to hold it together because she can see that I'm quickly unraveling.
"I'm sorry. It's just that I've… I've never told anyone this before…" My leg is shaking nervously now. I think I need to throw up again.
"Okay," she prompts softly. She's as still as a statue.
I swallow and press on, looking at my feet. I just can't meet those brown eyes of hers right now. "I'm cursed." There. I've said it. I peek up at her without really lifting my head.
"Cursed?" Her eyebrows rise. I don't think that this is what she was expecting to hear at all. Her expression goes from shocked to confused as she struggles to process this new information. "What do you mean, cursed? Like, cursed cursed, under an actual magical enchantment cursed?"
My eyes drop to my feet again. I'm wringing my hands absently in my lap, twisting my fingers together almost painfully. "Well, you know that my half-sister is a witch." I see her nod out of the corner of my eye. "I did something a few years back that I'm not proud of, and she's been punishing me ever since." I finally look up at her. "I can date a woman for 60 days. No more, no less. That's the curse."
"Two months and done," she whispers, staring off into the distance. Her inscrutable expression is like a knife in my heart. She's probably thinking of my father, his unthinking words that day. But I can't say for certain.
"Guinevere?" I ask, softly, unable to stand the silence any longer.
Her eyes flit back to mine, holding me in her gaze. "What did you do?"
I should have expected that question. "It's a little complicated. My half-sister, Morgana, had another half-sister by her mother. Her name was Morgause. She and I dated for a while." I tear my eyes away from her, the guilt and shame over my past too much to bear.
"For 60 days?" she guesses.
I nod. "I broke up with her out of sheer boredom. We had fun, but I never intended for anything long-term or permanent, and I should have never let it go on as long as it did. She was pretty and smart, but I was only marginally attracted to her. I only stayed with her that long because I was shallow and lazy and I didn't want to have to go to events by myself."
"Go on," she prompts, her voice still soft, but steady. Measured. She's gathering information before forming an opinion, I realize.
I sigh. I have never talked about Morgause since she died. "She felt differently. She was crushed when I broke up with her. It… it sounds terrible, I know; I sound like a total arse, but I told her it was over and she told me she loved me. I told her I didn't love her and that… I didn't even really like her all that much, either."
"That's pretty harsh, Arthur." Still that measured tone. She's disappointed in me. In my past. I can feel it.
"I know," I admit, still unable to look at her. "But that's who I was then, remember? I was a jerk." I lean back in the recliner and close my eyes. "That night she went home, took a fistful of sleeping pills, and… went to sleep."
Gwen gasps. "Oh, my…"
My eyes are still closed, pinched shut tight. I can see Morgause's face in my mind's eye, frozen in the shattered expression I so coldly walked away from that evening so long ago. "I couldn't even bring myself to go to her funeral," I whisper.
"I don't think I could have, either," she says, her voice a whisper now.
"After Morgause's ashes were scattered, Morgana came marching over to my house, a rare occurrence in itself as she prefers not to leave her cottage. She was mad. Really mad. She told me that since I could only give Morgause 60 days, that is all I would ever be able to give anyone. And I cannot be single, either. So that Sunday I met you…" I open my eyes and finally look at her.
She looks so sad. I don't know if her sadness is for me, Morgause, or both of us.
"You had just broken up with someone the day before," she says. "I'm a rebound girl…"
"All I've had for two years are rebound girls, Guinevere. Except I don't even have time to rebound."
I realize that she's taking this all very well. It worries me a little bit. I still don't know what she's going to do; she hasn't given anything away.
"So what day are we on, then?" she asks quietly.
"Day 49," I say. She doesn't look at all surprised that I am able to answer so readily.
"So we have…" she whispers, then stops, looking as if she cannot bear to say the words.
"Eleven days." I push the words out. They feel like a big marble in my throat.
"Less than two weeks," she says, her voice small, her eyes glassy as she looks at me, silently begging me to contradict her. To say I'm just kidding, that this is just some sick joke.
But I can't do that. It's all too real, unfortunately.
Hearing the remaining time from her lips feels like a boulder on my chest, pressing down, suffocating me. Now it feels like I'm trapped inside that giant hourglass. Instead of watching it drain away from the outside, I'm being buried by the sand that is falling much too quickly.
"I don't want to break up with you," I say. "I've never not wanted to break up with someone as much as I don't want to break up with you."
She stares at me. "I don't want you to break up with me," she whispers.
I just nod. "I know," I whisper. "I called Morgana two weeks ago. On Day 30. I asked her to lift the curse. She wouldn't."
"Why not?"
"I'm not exactly sure. She enjoys being cryptic, and she takes advantage of the fact that I can be a bit dim when it comes to my emotions." I run my hand through my hair again, frustrated with Morgana, this curse, and myself.
Guinevere goes quiet for a few moments, staring blankly at the telly. She sniffles and swipes at her face, and I realize she's crying.
I rise and cross to her, kneeling in front of her and taking her hands in mine.
"Don't," she says, but she doesn't pull away.
"I can't help it," I whisper. "I hate seeing you cry."
"I want to be mad at you," she says, her voice soft and hoarse. "I want to be mad at you, furious even, for deceiving me. For using me. But I can't. I can't because how could you have told me the truth up front?"
"You never would have given me your number," I say, stroking the soft skin on the back of her hands with my thumbs. "I'm so sorry, you know I am." I drop my head into her lap and kiss her hands.
"It's not like you have a choice," she says. She sighs heavily. "I just wish…"
I lift my head. "Me, too." You have no idea how much I wish, Guinevere. "I knew I was in trouble after that first phone conversation. The problem was that I liked you more than I wanted to. No, not more than I wanted to, more than I should have been allowed to. Even then I knew this. I could always maintain this level of detachment, this sort of status quo with the others that I've found that I just cannot do with you."
She nods, telling me that she understands. That she likes me too much, too.
I love her. I know this. I know it in the pit of my stomach, deep in my bones, but I can't say the words. It will hurt too much.
"So what happens?" she asks suddenly.
"What happens what?"
"What happens if, say, I call a taxi and leave right now?"
"Please don't do that," I hastily interrupt, squeezing her hands. She's looking down at me, and while I can see the sadness and pain clearly there, I don't think she's going to bail on me.
"Just an example. Or what happens if you don't break up with me on Day 60? Or you do and don't find a new girl to terrorize? What then?"
I snort briefly at her word choice. "I don't even know if my telling you is going to have any consequences or not. But if I don't break up with you or if I don't find someone the next day, I lose all capacity for both physical and emotional love. No companionship, no deep emotional bond with another person. No sex. I will become a lonely, miserable, impotent man." I heave a great sigh. "Well, I'm already miserable…"
"That's awful," she whispers. "Are you really miserable?"
I nod. "But not when I'm with you. When I'm with you, most of the time, I manage to somehow forget this nightmare that I'm living because your sunlight eclipses that darkness." I reach up to stroke her cheek, wipe away her tears, but I drop my hand before I touch. I don't know if she'd allow it; I don't know if I should allow myself. She doesn't flinch away, but… that contact would be too much for me right now. "Then something happens to remind me that I only have you for eleven more days—"
"Oh…" she gasps softly, realization hitting her anew.
"What I'm trying to say is this curse is always lurking in the back of my brain, and it… leaps out and consumes any happiness I feel with you, because I know it has to end one day."
"That is pretty miserable," she agrees softly. "So… that explains why you were so slow with everything. It explains why you sometimes drift away from me, retreating into your own head. Why you were so reluctant to make love to me…"
I nod. "I haven't made love to anyone in nearly a year, Guinevere. I… I actually try to avoid it."
"Too intimate," she whispers, and I nod again.
"Plus, between the misery and guilt, I'm not really in the mood, most of the time."
She nods, understanding. Then a small smile creeps over her face as she remembers last weekend. "I thought we had a good time," she says, actually giggling a little.
"It was the best weekend I'd had in a very long time," I admit, attempting a small smile of my own. It is short-lived. "But when I went back home to change clothes, I was so sick with guilt that as soon as I was inside, I had to run to the loo and throw up. Not because of you, obviously, but…"
"I understand," she says. Now she strokes my cheek, and my eyes pinch closed again. Her touch burns into me, and I almost cannot bear it.
"Does Morgana realize that by making you do this, she's also making you break heart after heart, just like you did to Morgause? That she's punishing more than just you, spreading the pain instead of stopping it?" she asks, cocking her head at me thoughtfully.
"I don't know that she thought that far, but I think that's just a bonus for her. She's not a nice person, so if she's suffering, she wants other people to suffer when really she should be finding a way to… feel better. Heal, if you like."
"That poor woman," she says. Really? She's finding sympathy for Morgana?
"I suppose so," I allow. I'd never really thought about it from Morgana's perspective. I drop my head back onto her lap. I like having my head in her lap. It's comforting.
"Can you break up with me and then chat me up again the next day?" she asks after what seems an eternity.
"I doubt it. I do know that if I have to break up with you I'm just going to take my lot and be miserable and alone. I can't keep doing this anymore."
"No, Arthur…"
"Yes, Guinevere," I answer, lifting my head again and finally meeting her eyes. "I've known for a long time now that if I find another girl after you, I'll just be spending all my time comparing her to you, lamenting over how she's not you."
Her one hand escapes from mine to cover her mouth. "I…"
"I can't do this to myself anymore; I can't do this to women anymore. This is the only solution I can live with. If you can call this living, even. I'm already miserable. You were able to bring me out of my misery, even if only temporarily. I want that to be my last happy memory: you."
She leans down and wraps her arms around me, joining me on the floor. She's half in my lap, and my knees are aching, but her arms are around me, so I surrender to her. Again. Always. I drop my head on her shoulder and exhale heavily, just letting her hold me.
"I'll understand if you just want to end this now," I whisper, clinging to her as though I am drowning and she is the only thing keeping me afloat. That's certainly what it feels like.
She sighs, kisses the top of my head, and then rests her head on mine. She doesn't say anything for a long moment. Too long. I cling to her, afraid that this might be it. I close my eyes and resign my fate to her decision.
"Let's just… enjoy the time we have left," she says. I relax a little, but still hold tight to her. "It may not be the smartest option, but I'm not ready to let you go yet," she adds, her voice a whisper.
"I'm sorry you got tangled up in this," I say into her hair. "I wanted to tell you so many times before now, it's just I…"
"You didn't know what would happen to you," she whispers.
"No," I lift my head, "I was afraid that something might happen to you if I told you."
"Oh," she says softly, and smiles a little sad smile. "What made you change your mind?"
I put my head back, leaning it against her chest. "I couldn't take it any more. Like I said, I was all set to tell you last Sunday, but your appendix had other ideas…"
"Oh, no," she says, "I'm sorry."
"Why are you apologizing?" I say, actually laughing a little. "It's not like you made that happen. In fact, I was afraid that I'd caused your appendicitis." I kiss her temple.
"Oh, goodness…" she says. "Did you?"
"No, thank God," I say. "Dr. Emrys promised me that it was just a coincidence. He and I actually had a long conversation while you were sleeping. Remember, on Monday, when he said he wanted to talk to me about your care after you went home?" I say.
"Yes, I remember. He was lying?"
"Pretty much. He wanted to talk to me about my curse."
"He could see it?
"He said… what was it? He said I was wearing it like a hat. He's really powerful. Like, seriously the most powerful wizard in the world. He told me that."
"Wow," she says. "So? You talked to him? Did he help you?"
"In a way. He wouldn't lift my curse. He could, but he would not." I go on to tell her about our conversation.
"Sounds like he helped you as much as he felt he could," she says finally, her slender fingers threading through my hair, easing the tangles out. It feels amazingly good.
"Why do magic folk always have to talk in riddles, though? I mean, it's like the more powerful someone is, the more obtuse they become."
"I don't know, Arthur," she says. She looks down. "Are your knees sore?"
"I can't feel my feet," I tell her. She leaps up and pulls me up onto the couch. "I liked Merlin, though. He's a really great guy."
"Merlin? You're on a first-name basis with my surgeon?"
I nod. "I think we're friends, actually," I say, furrowing my brow. "When I left the hospital after talking to him on Monday, his name was in my contacts list on my mobile. I never took it out of my pocket."
"Creepy," she says.
"Little bit. He can also text me with his mind. I think that's creepier," I say.
"Yeah," she agrees. "But I suppose he can do whatever he wants."
"Pretty much, yeah."
"Except lift your curse," she adds with a frown. "Understandable, but still…"
"I know," I sigh.
She leans her head on my shoulder and we sit quietly for a moment. I don't think we're at an impasse yet, but I think we have just run out of words for this topic right now.
"So, what do we do now?" I ask, finally allowing myself to touch her face. Her tears have dried and her cheek is soft and warm.
She sits up and looks at me. "We are going to do what we were planning on doing all along. You're going to take me to the building site, take me to lunch, and then take me shopping."
"So you're really going to see this through with me?" I ask. I can't believe it. I can, but I can't.
"I said I wasn't ready to give you up. I also am not ready to give up on you. Maybe I can help you."
"Really?"
"Arthur, Dr. Emrys – Merlin – said there is a way out. Once I get over the shock and wrap my mind around this thing, we'll figure it out. Together."
God, I love this woman. I should have known. She's so much smarter than I am. This is good.
"But right now, I want a hot shower," she says.
"Okay. Um, is it too much to hope for a kiss right now? Even just a small one?" I ask. I have never needed her kiss more than I do right now.
"I haven't brushed my teeth yet," she warns, smiling a little.
"Neither have I." I lean over, gently tilt her chin up slightly, and I close my lips over hers, softly and slowly, lingering just long enough to almost satisfy.
I feel slightly dazed again when I pull away from her, just like I did the first time I watched her slowly open her eyes and smile at me.
It almost feels like we're starting anew. It might be only eleven days, but I feel like we have a clean slate now that she knows everything.
She touches my cheek once, then gets up and walks to my bedroom to take a shower.
xXx
She was very impressed by the building site. I don't see what's so impressive about a great bloody hole, but she was fascinated.
"It's just so… big…" she enthused.
"That's what she said." It was out of my mouth like a reflex.
We laughed, really laughed for the first time all morning. It felt great.
By the time we finished there, we were hungry for lunch. It was a little early, but we really didn't get breakfast. My stomach was too knotted to eat, and I think I effectively ruined any appetite she may have had.
We decide to head to the Rising Sun, since we haven't been there in a while.
"Hello, two?" the hostess greets us.
"Yes, is Gwaine working today?" I ask.
"No, he's off, sorry," she says.
"That's fine," I say. "Something kind of private, then, please."
To be honest, I'm a little relieved that Gwaine isn't working today. I just want to have a quiet lunch with Guinevere without having to explain our serious demeanors to Gwaine.
The hostess leads us to a small booth in a corner, and tells us that someone named Jenna will be with us shortly.
She does arrive shortly and takes our drink order.
"Do… do you feel better? Now that you've told me?" Guinevere asks after a bit.
"Yes," I say. I exhale heavily. "I feel like a weight has been lifted – somewhat – from my shoulders. It was so hard, keeping it from you. It just kept getting more and more difficult as the days ticked by and I…" I trail off not sure where exactly I'm heading on this train of thought.
"And you what?" she asks. "Thank you." The waitress has just delivered our drinks. She takes our orders and disappears again. I think she can tell that we're not up for small talk or chit chat.
"Um, where was I?" I ask.
"Days ticking by," Gwen reminds me.
"Right. As time went on and… and I realized how much I liked you… it just made it so hard to keep this from you. Finally, Sunday morning I got to the point where I didn't want to keep it from you any longer."
"You've never been tempted to tell any of the other girls? Not even, what was her name? Elena?"
"Elena was the only one I ever even considered telling. I came close, but in the end, I chickened out and ended it."
"I guess I'm glad you told me before my Day 60, then," she says, half-smiling, taking a drink of her soda.
"No one knows," I mutter, playing with my straw.
"Hmm?"
"No one knows. Just you. And Morgana. Oh, and Merlin," I say.
"Not even Leon? Uther?"
"No. They just think I have a fear of commitment. That was true once."
"So I'm the only one you've told, then," she says, pondering the weight of this news.
I nod. "Merlin only knows because he's, well, him."
"He is something, isn't he?" she asks.
"Did you know that he's the dragonlord?"
"No, really? I knew he was a Druid, and he's got more tattoos than any Druid I've ever seen, but…"
"Did you notice the triskelion on the back of his neck, then?"
"No, I didn't. Wow, so he really is, then."
"He's scary powerful," I say. "But, strangely, a really nice guy."
"He is. I liked him a lot, actually. I had no idea he was the dragonlord."
"I know; you would never know it to talk to him. I only spotted it because I was looking in the right place when he bent over you after your surgery. I was shocked. I always pictured the dragonlord as some mysterious old coot with a long beard and a staff, someone you stay away from out of reverence and fear."
"That's a rather antiquated image," she chuckles.
"I know. But you know there were no pictures of him from when he stopped the wyverns. His name was never in the papers."
"I know."
"That's probably intentional. I'm guessing he doesn't want that kind of attention. Just going from what I know about him."
"And he probably has the kind of power to keep that attention away," she says.
Our food arrives now, and I realize that I am actually very hungry.
"What Sefa said about you makes perfect sense now," she says after a time.
"Oh, God, you have no idea how much I was freaking out about that. Her and Freya both."
"I think Freya actually knew more than she let on. But she's much too polite and sweet to have said anything incriminating," she says.
"And I am so thankful for that," I say. "Hey, what's the tattoo on her shoulder, do you know? I could see a black tail and I think a paw, but that's it."
"That's an interesting story. I asked Sefa the same thing after the first time I met Freya, and she told me that Freya's family was under a curse for years. All the females turned into a large black cat at night. I think she said it was called a Bastet. Looks like a bloody great panther. Usually the only way out is death. Most of Freya's family is dead. She has a younger brother, I guess. She wanted to protect him."
"From what?" I ask.
"Herself. She didn't want to wake up one morning and find that she's killed her little brother."
"Bloody hell," I say. Suddenly my curse doesn't sound so bad. "But… that night at the club. She was a human…"
"Merlin was able to cure the curse," she explains. "Cure it, or lift it, I guess is the correct term."
"So why could he lift her curse and not mine, I wonder?"
"Didn't he say that Morgana had a legitimate reason for yours?" she asks. I nod. "Well, that's probably the reason. And Freya's curse was on her family and it had been around for a while. Whoever placed it on them might be dead by now, I don't know. That's how they met. She sought him out and asked for his help."
"Love at first sight?" I ask.
I sound like a girl.
"Well, love at first sight followed by immediate denial. Freya didn't want him to think that her feelings were merely misplaced feelings of gratitude, and Merlin didn't want her to think that he was taking advantage. But apparently they couldn't stay away from each other."
"So the tattoo is, what, a reminder?"
She nods. "A reminder to be kind to people because you don't know what they might be dealing with on the inside." She smiles a soft, knowing smile at me.
"Wow. That's pretty profound," I say. I have a new-found respect for the sweet, quiet nurse. "Where is her brother?"
"He's at university. His name is Mordred. What did Sefa say…? He's studying Political Science and History. Wants to be on the Druid council one day."
"That is some story," I say.
"So," she says, putting her fork down and setting her napkin neatly on her plate, "where shall we go after lunch?"
"We can go wherever you would like to go. As long as you're feeling well. Are you feeling well?"
"Yes. I promise you I will let you know if I need to rest or go home. I do need to go to the Food Palace, actually. And then there's the small matter of getting you another pair of pajama bottoms."
"Could do with the market myself," I say.
"All right, then. We'll go to Conrad's and get you some trousers… and I'll maybe look at some other things while we're there…"
"Boots?" I say, smirking at her.
"Perhaps. Summer clothes, maybe."
"Like one of those little sundresses?" I ask, hopefully. I may not get to see her wearing such a thing, but I might get the opportunity to watch her try some on.
She giggles at me. "I've never been much for the little sundresses," she says. "Maybe a maxi dress, though."
What the hell is a maxi dress?
"That's like a sundress, only it's really long," she explains, laughing at the expression on my face.
"Oh. Um, I don't know if you've noticed, but for having spent so much time dating women and being around women, I really know bugger all about fashion," I say, and she just laughs harder.
I should record her laugh. Just in case.
"All right," she stops laughing and returns to her point. "Conrad's, then Food Palace. Then… we could drop my groceries at my flat and… maybe go back to yours?"
"You want to stay over again?" I ask. I wasn't sure if she would still want to.
"If you want me to," she says.
"Of course I do," I say. "Guinevere, I know it kind of feels a little… strange right now…"
"Yeah," she agrees, "it almost feels like we've started over, kind of."
"It does," I sigh. I'm glad she noticed that, too, honestly. "But I want to spend as much time as I possibly can with you, given the circumstances. If I could find a way for us to stay awake all the time for the next ten and a half days just so we don't have to lose time to sleeping, I would. Just in case, you know."
"I feel the same way," she admits softly.
"Again, maybe not the smartest course of action, but…" I shrug.
"I know," she agrees. "I know."
xXx
I've never been a fan of shopping. I don't shop; I buy. I go in, get what I want, and leave. I don't peruse sale racks. I don't – ugh – browse. I need socks. I buy socks.
The only things I spend any time on are suits, but that's only because I have to get them tailored.
Yet here I am, following her around Conrad's like the lost puppy that I am. She picks out not one but two pair of pajama bottoms for me. One is blue and red plaid, and the other is green with penguins on. I rather like the penguins, to be honest.
I wait patiently while she tries on a few things. She lets me pick out something for her to try on. I look pointedly at the lingerie section, and she just laughs and says something about "maybe after my stitches are out."
So I choose a sundress instead. A short one, not one of the long ones she's been looking at.
I know she won't buy it. But I like that she lets me pick something anyway.
And I get to zip and unzip some more.
She buys one of those maxi dress things, a pair of sandals, and a tank top. She says she likes the dress I picked, but it's shorter than she's comfortable wearing (even though she looked amazing in it). I think she felt bad about not buying it, but I promised her it was fine. I told her that I didn't like the thought of other blokes seeing her in it, anyway.
Food Palace was, well, Food Palace. Apart from a brief discussion on cooking dinner versus getting takeaway (takeaway tonight, cooking tomorrow), it was uneventful.
We return to my condo just before three, in time for the joust. It's a later match today, against Odin again. Hopefully we'll beat them this time.
I put my new penguin trousers on. She gets comfortable as well in some pajama bottoms (not the ones she slept in, I notice), and I can see she's tired.
We sit on the couch. It's still a little awkward, despite the easy conversation and teasing during our shopping trip. I'm not really sure what to say or how to act now that I know that she knows.
"You can come over here, if you want," I say, holding my arm out.
She slides over. "Why is it so strange now?" she asks, gradually settling in against me.
"I don't know. I know you know now, and it's a new feeling."
"Don't know how to behave?"
"No. I don't remember how I was before I told you," I say, my voice soft.
She sighs and turns a bit, wrapping an arm around my waist. "You were sweet, and thoughtful… and funny… and sexy," she says, hugging me a bit. "But you also had moments where you were distant… and evasive…"
"And frustrating," I finish. "I hope that stops. And if I do drift away…"
"I'll know why and be able to help," she finishes my sentence now. Then she looks up at me, reaches up, and caresses my cheek. I turn my head and kiss her hand.
"Can I—"
"You don't need to ask permission, Arthur. You can still kiss me whenever you want," she says.
"Sorry, I…"
"I know," she says. I lean down and kiss her, taking longer this time. I haven't really kissed her since this morning, and I've missed her lips.
I don't know why I'm surprised when her lips part for me, but I am. It also makes my heart thump in my chest so hard that I'm sure she can feel it.
We kiss slowly, languidly, as if we are reacquainting ourselves with each other, trying to find ourselves again when we aren't really lost.
She squeaks and gently pulls away. "Can't sit twisted like this," she explains softly.
"Sorry," I say, running my finger down her cheek.
"Not your fault," she chuckles, turning around again to lie against me. "Do you have a blanket?"
"Are you cold?" I ask, sliding out from behind her to fetch a blanket.
"A little. Mostly I just want a blanket."
I return with a fleece blanket. "This do?" I ask.
"That will be fine," she says, smiling at me.
We re-settle and finally start paying attention to the match.
They're talking about Ethan Williams and his big mess. Percival and Sefa get a mention, but they're basically old news now. The only reason they're mentioned is because Sefa's father is in the same group of Druids as that Cylferth fellow, the one who was helping Williams.
"Looks like they're going to make an example of him," I comment to Guinevere. They've just announced that he's been given a lifetime ban from jousting effective immediately. Bloke is going to have to find a new line of work. If anyone will even hire him now.
"Mmm-hmm," she nods.
"Are you sleeping?" I ask.
"Mmm-hmm," she nods again.
I let her sleep. She won't admit it, but I think she did a little too much today.
There are worse things than having a sleeping Guinevere in my arms.
Except with the blanket, I'm a little hot. I try to gently kick my foot out from beneath the blanket. I wish I could take my socks off. I can get one off, the one on my foot on the outside of the blanket, but the leg that's trapped between her and the couch is a problem.
I will deal.
I will also have to remember not to yell at the television or cheer too loudly.
Guinevere sleeps for about an hour, waking shortly after the start of the second half.
"Did you have a nice nap?" I ask.
"Mmm, yes," she says. "Oh, God, you're roasting," she says, flinging the blanket aside and moving slightly away from me to give me some air.
"It's all right," I say. "I do need the loo, though," I say, standing. My trousers are a little stuck to my leg from sweat.
"Sorry," she says.
"I need a snack, do you want something?" I ask when I return. She's just coming out of the other bathroom herself.
"Maybe something to drink," she says. "Just some water is fine."
I bring her a bottle and I have a Cornetto in my hand for myself.
"You still have some of those left?" she asks, her eyes lighting up.
"I forgot they were in there. Haven't been home much lately," I say, handing her the cone in my hand. I head back to the kitchen to get another one for myself.
Percival wins the match, redeeming himself from the last time the Dragons faced the Ogres. Guinevere gets a text from an excited Sefa.
"She's so proud. It's so cute," she giggles, replying to her friend.
"She should be. He's great. They're very lucky," I say.
She smiles reassuringly at me. She knows exactly what I mean now.
xXx
After dinner of takeaway Chinese food from Imperial Wok and a movie on telly, we snuggle into my bed, not even bothering to turn the TV on in the bedroom. She's tired again and so am I.
It's been an exhausting day.
Just before bed, I send Merlin a text.
A: I told her.
M: Good.
I stare at my phone a minute, waiting to see if he has any other nebulous pearls of wisdom for me. Nothing. I sigh, set my phone to vibrate, and plug it in, setting it on my nightstand.
Guinevere spoons in front of me, blankets up to her chin, hair back in its normal single braid.
It feels nice. I would stay like this forever, just lying here with her in my arms, all warm and soft…
A slight shudder snaps me out of my reverie. I pay attention. A minute later, it happens again: a small shudder, nearly unnoticeable, but definitely there.
Then a small sniffle. The slight hitch of a breath.
"Guinevere?" I ask softly, reaching up to stroke her cheek. It's wet. "Oh, Love, no…" I say, moving, sitting up slightly so I can see her.
"Sorry…" she apologizes.
"Don't be," I say, "come here." I touch her shoulder, tugging gently, hoping she'll turn around. She does, and I wrap her in my arms, just holding her.
"I was trying to… keep it in… not let you… see…" she says, losing this battle with herself, talking between soft sobs that break my heart.
"You don't have to do that," I say, stroking her hair, her back, kissing her forehead.
"You have enough on… your mind already… you don't need to… worry about me… too…"
"Guinevere, stop, shh," I say. "You're allowed to… I mean, you've been so strong about this all day, unbelievably so, in fact."
"It's just… you've had, like, two years to deal with this… I've had… fourteen hours, maybe? Then just now, alone with you here in the dark… in your arms – which I love being in, don't get me wrong – everything just came crashing down on me." She stops, takes a deep breath, and wipes at her eyes. I reach over to the nightstand and hand her a tissue. "Thank you," she says.
"You're cursed," she continues. "Actually, truly, really cursed. With magic. I can't even process that yet… I mean, I could get beyond your man-whore past. You said you weren't that person anymore, and I believe you."
"Thank you."
"I mean, I don't know what I expected your big secret problem to be, but it wasn't that. I'd been through everything. I thought, 'Maybe he killed someone,' or 'Maybe he was abused,' or, 'Maybe he was an addict.' Never did enchantment enter the picture."
"I don't suppose it would be in the forefront of your mind," I say. She seems to be calming down some.
"It wasn't even in the back of my mind."
I rub her back lightly, kissing her forehead again.
"It's just… so unfair," she says, exhaling heavily. "It's selfish of me, but… I finally find a guy that I really like… I mean really like," she sniffs, "and it turns out he's under a fucking curse…" she stops, the sobs starting again, harder, louder, more heartbreaking. "A curse that only gives us… ten more days…"
The dam bursts, and she's crying hard, her tears wetting my chest but I don't care. My heart is breaking right along with hers, and all I can do is hold her and help her ride it out.
I don't know what to say. Part of me is stunned by her revelation about how much she likes me. Is it possible that she loves me, too? She didn't say it; she came just short of it. I know why she won't say it.
Another part of me is brokenhearted right along with her. She's exactly right. This is completely unfair to her. It's all my fault that she's tied up in this. All because she couldn't reach some rice noodles at the market. All because I happened to be there and it happened to be Day One.
Some people say that there are no accidents. That our lives are mapped out for us before we are even born. Fate, destiny, whatever. If that's true (and I'm not sure whether it is or not), I want to find the man that drew up my destiny so I can give him a swift kick in the bollocks.
And then thank him for bringing Guinevere into my life. I would be floundering for the rest of my life without her.
But her breakdown in my arms here has fully awakened a heretofore very quiet part of me, the part that Sefa saw the other night. The part that has hope. The part that wants to – no, is determined to beat this thing. Merlin said that I'm not doomed. That there is a way out.
Guinevere's sobs have slowed a bit again, and I lean down and kiss her cheek. "We'll figure this out," I say. "I have no idea how, but we will."
She sniffles. I hand her a fresh tissue. She takes a deep breath, wipes her face, and looks up at me.
Her eyes are swollen and red. She's still beautiful. "You think so?" she asks.
"Um, I hope so," I say. "Merlin can't tell me what to do, he can only hint. I… I think I'm too close to it, too deep into it to have the right objectivity. Either that or I'm really stupid."
She laughs a little.
"There," I say. "That's what I want to hear." I lean down and kiss her lips once. "Besides, two heads are better than one, right?"
"I guess so," she says. Her voice is hoarse.
"And you're much smarter than I am, so maybe together…"
"You're very smart, Arthur, don't sell yourself short," she says.
"Smart in the wrong ways for this problem, I think."
"I can't think clearly about this yet," she says. "It's too new."
"I know," I say.
"Oh…" she gasps, suddenly realizing that my chest is all wet. She starts dabbing at it with the tissue in her hand.
"It's really fine," I say, closing my hand over hers, stilling it on my chest, the tissue still clutched in her slender fingers.
"Thank you, Arthur," she says, smiling a little bit as she looks up at me.
"For what?"
"For letting me fall apart on you. For letting me be selfish. For letting me get my tears and snot all over your chest," she says, her smile growing with her last statement.
"Anytime," I say.
It's what you do when you love someone.
She snuggles against me, still facing me, tucked against me.
"Goodnight," she says softly, leaning her face up to mine.
I kiss her waiting lips. They're so soft. "Goodnight, Guinevere," I whisper. "Sleep well. Please." If she gets nightmares or insomnia because of me, I'll just die.
"You, too," she whispers. "That's why you needed me to keep your nightmares away…" she mumbles.
"Yes. And it worked every time," I say, whispering now as well. "You keep the demons away, Guinevere."
"Oh…" she gasps, as if this news surprises her.
"Go to sleep, Love," I say, kissing her one last time.
"'Kay," she says.
She falls asleep almost immediately.
She's so strong. Beautiful. Wonderful. Smart.
I want to spend every moment of the rest of my life with her, but I know that I do not deserve such a privilege.
Nevertheless, I'm going to try.
I have to. I cannot see those tears again on Day 60.
