Trigger Warning: Suicidal thoughts.
Sara
I sigh contently and close my eyes. I stretch and yawn then I smile. I hear the panicky groans of my girlfriend as she tries to get ready. I've never seen her so self-conscious and worried as she has been the previous week, which required so much effort from me not to break down because I had to be as strong as I could be in this weak state in order to support her. I guess starting, or, actually, managing such a big job is not easy for someone with such a little experience. I know she can do it; she can do anything, but she's been so stressed out lately that the bags underneath her eyes need serious makeup techniques.
I look at her trying to decide what to wear. What's funny is that she's in a Winnie the Pooh shirt, Mickey Mouse boxers, and a purple tie. I have to do this every morning—I have to pick something out for her to wear because if I don't, she'd waste so much time moaning about having nothing to wear, when she has everything anyone can dream of, and, gladly, I can share with her.
I get out of bed and walk to the closet. She gives me the room to start picking and choosing, which does not happen often with Tegan, so I take advantage of this wonderful moment of capability.
I clear my throat twice then open my mouth and close it three times before talking (an exercise I was told to do before speaking when I went to the doctors about my communication and speech skills). "D…do you…" I pause, taking a breath, then I continue, "Do y…y…you want…t…the tie?" Mornings are always hard. At the end of the day I can pretty much talk normally, but the mornings always need some practice. The doctor said I've been put in a traumatic situation, which caused me this disability. That made Tegan feel resentful towards herself.
"Yes. I wanna look like I can fucking boss these motherfuckers." Tegan's employees have been giving her a hard time at work because she is basically younger than everybody. I get and understand what they must be feeling because I wouldn't want someone fresh out of college coming to boss me when I've been working my ass off for years, but I know what my girlfriend is capable of. I know she can be better than all of these people. Her GPA is fucking perfect, her ambition inspires me, and her passion for what she does is just beautiful. I know she can prove herself. I am proud of her, I really am proud of her. The previous year was the hardest for both of us, but right now things are getting better. They're slow, but they're getting better.
"W…well, I…" I clear my throat again. "I think you…should probably take these boxers off, because, umm…they kill the look I'm…ab…about to give you."
Tegan looks down at her underwear and shrugs. "Nobody's gonna see them."
"I…I will," I whisper.
Sometimes I like to tease her in the morning when I know she's been so tensed up. I like to make her forget about the stress of work. I know it's killing her what I'm doing; I know I am cruel this way since I don't give her anything of me, but I can't help it and I'm not ready for it just yet. Every time I think I am, I cave and cower. I don't know what happens to my body when I am this close to sex. I can be naked with her the entire day, but as soon as things lead to other things, I turn into another person blanketed with fear. It's not that I am scared she might hurt me, I am just scared we'll ruin this—this thing we have now; this pure, beautiful relationship we reconstructed with honesty; this love that we share; this calmness. Sex is too stormy for my heart right now. I love her and want to touch her, but sex reminds me of the mess we created together with Emy, and of the mess we have become, so I don't want to go back to that point. It's like we have gone to rehab and got clean and now we should just practice purity.
In other words, as Emy has pointed out to me, we have a bed death.
Tegan takes off her boxers in one swift movement. I gaze at the Mickey Mouse material crumpled between her feet then make my way up her slender legs till I reach the hair thoroughly covering her pubic area and concealing her vulva. I don't think I've ever seen her this hairy that I can only see hair, but I am not surprised, and, actually, a bit relieved because that's how I've been looking for the past few months. Surprisingly, it does not bother me at all.
I see familiar and unfamiliar expressions on her face. I see need and I see supplication. I also see sheepishness; mellow, coral sheepishness. I suppress a smile and force my person to behave with seriousness. I don't ever want her to think that I will be the Sara I was before because that Sara has lost too much. The past is the past and I believe in that, but some stuff will always stay the same. I joke now, and that's fucking wonderful because I've been living in a ghost body for months, and now I can finally crack a joke or two during the day. I do have terrible days and, God, they're so fucking awful, but Tegan does not leave me and tries her best to get me through them. She has her own terrible days, as well. But I do leave her alone because that's what suits her. Once she calms down, we can be around each other again.
"Okay," I say. "A suit, al..alright? You're gonna look like a…a…a full hot dyke who can take care of things…um…yeah?" I smile because my speaking is already becoming better.
"Oh, yes, yes. I want," Tegan says excitingly.
"This shirt…uh…w…w will look really good with the tie." I hand her a light thistle-colored shirt. I open her underwear drawer to hand her a new one; my eyes immediately catch the only black lace in there and my hands go for it. Before turning around, I hear a loud shriek that makes my heart drop to the floor. I turn around to see my girlfriend covering her mound with both hands and see my cat standing close. The scene is hilarious. Tegan's still scared of cats and I still laugh each day whenever something happens. Last week Tegan woke up with Cyndi sitting on her tummy. Tegan, well, she kinda peed herself. She swore she didn't, but I know she did. I know scaring her like that is not a good thing, but it's really adorable and funny.
"Oh, oh, bad kitty," I whisper. I pick my grey kitten and kiss her head.
"She saw me naked. She saw my vagina and ass. Oh , my God." Tegan puts on her underwear quickly. Her face is bloody red and embarrassed.
I laugh loudly. "Pussy saw your pussy," I say a bit timidly. I know I am blushing. I see the smirk on her face.
"Seriously, Sasa, she can't see us naked. That's wrong. You can't get her in the bathroom with you."
I laugh again. "Tegan, it's…it's…just a cat. She doesn't uh…uh…understand." I swallow hard and clear my throat.
"Yes, she does. She has eyes." Tegan glares at the cat and it doesn't make me angry, it makes me smile.
"F…finish getting dressed so I…I…umm…" I completely lose my sentence, which frustrates me, turning my face hot and red. Tegan gives me an apologizing smile and nods. This means she wants me to try again. "I hate it." I sit on my bed and sigh. "Words go."
Tegan sits next to me. She puts her hand on my upper back and rubs gently. "You're actually so much better right now, babe. Practice is making you better. You know, reading this weird literature stuff of yours is making it easier for you to say long words. It'll take time but it'll be alright." She kisses my forehead more than one time then kisses my lips. "What did you want to say?"
"Makeup," I mumble. "I…I…wanna do it for you." I point at my face, just in case the sentence didn't come out well.
"Oh, yes. Yes, let's do it. But, like, not so much because I don't really like makeup."
"Just to hide…umm…the b..b…these." I give up, pointing at the dark circles under her eyes. "You need rest."
"See, love, when you think too much about getting the words out or you're afraid you'd say something that would offend me, you're stuttering. But when you speak while you're relaxed, you're saying everything the way it is. Just don't be scared of me, please. I am your…your Tegan. I am little and I am not scary. I just did something scary and bad once but I am very small, yeah? And, like, I, you know, I don't control this. I am not a peevish man. I am not this ruler of the house. I just want your love and affection and want to make you feel happy because there's no one I fucking love more than you."
I tear up as she speaks and try to hide it by burying my face in her chest. I hug her and squeeze our cat between us, which makes Tegan squirm in fear. "She's not gonna eat you," I whisper, noticing what she's said is actually very true. "Pussy doesn't eat you, you eat pussy."
Tegan pushes me playfully while she guffaws. "That ship has sailed," she whispers. She gets up and turns around. Sometimes she likes to throw some words out there to make me know how much in need she is, but I pretend like I don't notice. Other times, I apologize for what I'm going through, which makes her feel bad for saying these things.
"N…no hot girls in there?" I swallow, waiting for her answer. This time I choose a different approach.
"Umm, there are. A lot, actually. But they're not, you know, my girlfriends, nor do I wanna date them. I don't really…I mean, Sara, honestly, you're the only one I'm attracted to." Bullshit. If I can be attracted to Emy and Tegan at the same time, she can be attracted to ten other girls, as well.
"Hmm." I pat my cat and nod.
"I swear," she says.
"I…uh…I believe you and I'm…s…s…s…"
"Sorry? God, don't be. It's your body and your life. I can wait forever for you." Another lie, I'm pretty sure. I love Tegan, but my trust has been shredded into pieces since that damned day.
"Let's uh…fix…um your…"
"Makeup time," she finishes for me. We walk to the bathroom and our cat follows. Cyndi sits on the closed toilet seat as I cover Tegan's dark circles with my concealer. She hates makeup and doesn't understand it. She has nothing but mascara and a foundation. I don't have much either, but I am a bit more informed than her.
"So, babe," Tegan says while I blend in her concealer. "The list for today is?"
"Music," I say, tapping my middle fingers gently underneath each closed eye.
"Yes, practice well. I'm gonna hear that song when I'm back."
"Okay."
"And practice anything you want to read. I'm also gonna test you when you're back."
I giggle unwillingly.
"Why are you laughing?" Tegan asks. She opens her eyes, looking at me with a curious smile.
You're so demanding and you still order and control when you want to do the opposite of that. "Nothing," I say instead. It's in her nature, she can't help it. "An…anything else?"
"Yes. You're gonna talk to everyone and I will talk to you." Tegan pauses as she looks at herself in the mirror. "Wow. Fuck, Sare, you're a miracle worker." She kisses my temple. "I look so fucking good. Oh, my God. I look so fucking hot I'd do me." Yup, that's Tegan.
But I have to admit, she looks so fucking good I want her to do me with a strapon in this suit. She looks handsome—her hair's pushed back and gelled, and her features sharp and attractive. The suit is just fucking amazing.
"Babe, babe, don't cook, okay? We're going out tonight. I'm taking my girl out," she sings as she admires her person in the mirror.
"Okay." I laugh. "We will."
"I love you. Thank you," Tegan says. She kisses me two times quickly and walks to the door. "Bye, love." Tegan waves and I do, too. "Bye Cyndi Lauper," Tegan says to the meowing cat. "Yes, yes, you wanna get rid of me, I know."
"Bye, Teetee," I say. "I..l…love you."
Nothing much has changed in NYC. When Tegan goes to work, I stay alone at home doing nothing in particular. I've been writing music and Tegan is my critic. She's very bad with music and doesn't understand anything, but I don't want to break her heart by telling her not to interfere. Sometimes I try to cook, but Tegan has literally removed every sharp object from the kitchen, so I end up making big, inedible stuff, which makes Tegan cook again. She has left me one knife that barely chops anything just two days ago, so now I can make poorly-cut salad.
I also speak to my mother and to Emy every day. I read and I write and I watch some stuff online until it's five and Tegan is in the apartment once again. When Tegan's here, time passes faster because Tegan is loud and noisy. She tells me about her day and rants about people she hates. We usually eat, watch a movie, practice reading, play music, and then we shower together. We go to bed after making out and becoming heated enough, which results in many attempts to fall asleep with our bothered states.
The apartment we live in is huge. It's elegant and fashionable; it feels like a house, not an apartment. We have two rooms and two bathrooms but our kitchen is big and our living room is quite spacious. The living room is also sunny and refreshing because we have three French windows, which means we have three balconies. What I love mostly is the three stairs that take us to the space of the dining table, which has eight chairs. The bookshelves are also what I appreciate in this place. It's like her father knew what we love and has furnished it the way we once arranged to.
Or maybe Tegan just told him what we have arranged and daydreamed about when we were mentally decorating our dream home. That's probably the case.
…
After feeding Cyndi, it's time to feed myself so I make some cereal and face my laptop's screen to watch some videos while eating. But, of course, Emy only remembers my existence when I'm in the middle of watching a tutorial on how to get your cat to pronounce your name.
I move the cursor on the green button, allowing Emy to appear on my screen and allowing my face to appear on hers. She smiles as soon as she sees me, so I smile, too.
"Hey," Emy says.
"Good morning," I say. "Wh…why are you up so early?"
"Amber just left and she kinda ruined my morning. I couldn't get back to sleep. I saw you online and I thought I'd talk to you."
"Wh…why did she leave so early?" It is only six in Vancouver, which means people should still be asleep or just getting up. "Where did sh..sh..she go?" I direct the spoon to my mouth and gulp the milk and drenched corn flakes. I wipe the remnants of milk off my lips.
"She went to the store. We had a fight yesterday and we didn't sleep at all. We fought at dawn as well and she said she'd go do some work in the store. I'll follow her when it's time to open up."
"Oh." Emy and Amber having a fight? That's a first. They're that kind of couple that never remembers to fight at all. Amber is so quiet and Emy is talkative and they complement each other in a great way.
"Yes. She wants us to settle," Emy says sadly.
"Settle?" I ask.
"Yes." Emy sighs. "She wants us to, umm, think about serious stuff like, you know, like children."
The bowl almost slips out of my hands and the milk almost makes its way out of my lips as I gurgle with laughter. "Ch…children?"
"I know," Emy says with dilated eyes.
"You are children."
"I fucking know!" Emy stands on her knees (she gets too enthusiastic sometimes) and holds her laptop's screen with both hands. It feels like I am the one being held. "I told her that. She said we're not doing it; we're just talking about it. But, you know, it makes me feel uncomfortable. I'm only twenty-five. But she's like, I'm twenty-eight."
"Twenty-eight is y…young."
"Yes." Emy pauses. She sits down and sighs. "Do you and Tegan talk about that? Do you want it?"
"We…d…don't. We have other issues to…to care about." Emy sighs once again. "I…want it, but not n…now."
"Yeah, you have a cat now. How is she?"
"Cute," I say. I prefer short sentences and the use of a one word because it's easier to talk that way, but Emy always pushes me to speak more, so she gives me that look indicating I need to talk more. "Sh…she eats, sleeps…and poops." Emy grins. "And scares the shit out of Tegan, wh…which is funny."
"Since we're talking about Tegan, how is she? She doesn't fucking talk to me."
"I…uh, I told you yesterday, she's busy."
"Oh, please." Emy waves her hand at me. "How hard can being a boss be?"
"Very hard. Her emp..employees don't take her seriously." I hate it when Emy shit talks Tegan behind her back and pretends to be her best friend in front of her. Sometimes Emy's jealousy blinds her into seeing Tegan as the green monster, and other times she just craves her attention.
"Well, I guess that part sucks but she'll get over it." Emy yawns annoyingly. "But she's good with you, right? That's what's important. You guys are good together?"
"Yes," I say. "I told you. We, umm, we don't touch, but we're good again."
"But you said you do take showers together and kiss."
"Yes." I nod. "But no sex."
"I know, yes."
"We don't have a bed death, though."
"You do," Emy says.
"N…no." I giggle.
"Yup." She laughs, too.
"Stop."
"No," she says.
"You…obviously have one," I tease.
"Shut up." She giggles. "I had sex two nights ago, actually."
"Don't tell me," I mumble.
"Sorry." She chuckles. "Sare?" I hum. "I worry about you. Are you alright? You seem better, but are you really?"
"I am," I say sincerely. I am alright. Some days are hard, but I am just fine. "I still feel…th…that way sometimes, but I am…better. Yes. I am." I nod. "I even uh…applied for jobs."
"Seriously?" I nod. "Tell me about it."
"Not much. I mean, I just…I, uh, gave my resume' to some schools and companies, as uh…as a counselor and Tegan f…faked uh…uh…work experience, she said that I…uh, I live with her and that's like…like counseling for ten years."
Peals and gales of laughter fill my room as Emy guffaws loudly. "That's so fucking true. Oh, my God. She's so right. I mean, you probably have more experience than any therapist." I don't say anything because I don't find that funny. I don't find Tegan hard to handle or to deal with. In fact, she's quite easy to talk to and is actually fun to be around. Sometimes I dislike the way she sees things but I understand her, so for me she's what suits me and what I can live with.
"Oh, Sara," Emy says with a long sigh. "God, I miss you. I miss you and miss Tegan, too. I miss our college days and how funny you were."
"I am still funny," I say quickly without any stutter.
"Yes, you are, but you're not here with me." Sometimes I feel that Emy still hasn't gotten over me. It makes me feel uncomfortable.
"I miss you, too." This is a truth. Of course I miss my best friend. I miss her quirky humor and her never-ending gossip. I miss the way she took care of me and the way I took care of her. I miss having someone that is similar to me, not someone who obviously has more control than I do.
Sometimes I leave the apartment and take a little walk in the crowded streets. I like seeing the busy life; it reminds me that everything else is moving; it gives me a sense of liveliness, I suppose; it refreshes me and fills me with hope. Things are moving and people are living while I am sulking alone at home. Sometimes I get coffee and sit in a café. It gets boring easily when you see that everyone is busy with something or someone and all you're doing is rereading a book you've read more than three times.
It's been only two weeks here, but I already miss Vancouver and Emy. However, there is this sense of independence in New York. I don't know how it comes, but I just feel it. I am alone in this foreign country and strange city full of busy people, yet I can manage easier. I already know more places than Tegan and I'm already aware of things regarding the taxes, the roads, the locations, the stores, and the system more than she is. She's so busy with her work to focus on these little details, which gives me the room to explore and discover on my own. I like this feeling; I like knowing, I like living. Yet, I do feel dead mostly by the end of the day when boredom takes a toll on me and knocks me off my feet.
At the end of the day, I am reminded that emptiness has become my precious, darling friend. At the end of the day, I remember the vigorous existence of that hollowness in my chest. This big dark hole increases in size and I get lost inside more and more till I can't wrap my mind around any matter concerning life and death. At the end of the day, I feel my tears raging a war against me. It's the pang I feel, I feel it vehemently; poignant, robust, and infernal. At the end of the day, just before Tegan's arrival, I think of that wicked action till she stops me by entering our home. I think about it; about the knife; about the blood; about the scene of closed eyes and clogged lungs. The thought is like a small candy wrapped up in sparkly neon cover inside my brain. I unwrap it gaily each day, I am ready to consume it inside till it darkens my brain each day, I get closer to devour it each day…but then, then…then Tegan comes back and I wrap up the candy again, so perfectly, and delicately. Then I hide the small piece in the corners Tegan isn't aware of so she wouldn't see it.
Each day I'm this close until she opens the door.
"Sara?" I hear her voice coming from outside our room. I gasp as if I am choking on water. I am back to reality; back from the mind-throttling area of mental destruction inside me.
It's 5:10. Right on time, like every day. "Sara?" I hear her calling again.
"Here," I answer, my tone a bit shaky.
"Here you are," Tegan says. She comes inside with the dark grey blazer resting on her left shoulder. Her tie is loosened and the front buttons of her shirt are opened. Her face is wet, sticky and red. If I didn't know better, I'd say it's that after-sex glow, but I guess we both know now that Tegan (despite her past reputation of a classy whore) doesn't sleep with anyone but me, and she isn't even sleeping with me. "I saw Cyndi passed out near her empty bowl. She should've been called Fatty Cyndi not Cyndi Lauper."
"She doesn't stop eating. W...what if she becomes overweight?" I forget what I've been thinking of and postpone everything for tomorrow when I'm alone again.
Tegan sighs. "For a kitten, I think she already is." She rubs her eyes and yawns.
"L…long day?" I ask.
"Yes." Tegan lies on the bed next to me. "I'm so exhausted I might collapse soon."
"Oh…uh…are you alright?" Tegan closes her eyes and nods.
"I'm fine." She sighs. "I think my dad trusted me a bit too much. I don't know if I can do all that alone. These people are monsters. I'm not used to…to, you know, being this attacked by so much stuff. I like to…to get some…you know, spoiling, attention, hugs and kisses." I laugh at the hints Tegan is dropping my way. She opens up her arms and I jump in, topping her. She giggles and squeezes me. "God, I miss you when I'm there." She kisses my head a few times then smells my hair.
I sit up and straddle Tegan. I hear the wheezing of her lungs and enjoy the silence that comes with her being around me. How dangerous it is to be madly in love with someone! And not just anyone, but someone like Tegan, someone that has once crushed you and you're not the same since then. I don't know what the mystery behind her is but I know there is one. I don't want to find out because it will change nothing and I will love her despite everything. Sure, there is fear. I keep sensing things, seeing things, imagining things. But I'm probably hallucinating from the amount of time I spend alone with this mind of mine. Tegan can't be who I think she is. Sonia can't be who I think she is. I scare myself with thoughts that hurt me and make me closer to the edge the more I am alone, and then I regret it and omit these thoughts when Tegan is here next to me. I shouldn't think this way; I shouldn't even like the idea. It's wrong and it's disgusting. I am troubled, that I know, but what can I do about it? You can't perform a brain surgery on a dead mind and awaken it, can you?
"Sasa?" Tegan asks.
"Y…yes?"
"Do stuff?"
"S…s…stuff?"
"Yes," Tegan demands. "I mean, you know…" She blushes furiously. "Treat me like, you know, your little girl. Pet me and fondle me and, like, you know, take care of me. I need to feel like, I, uh, I'm little and loved."
"Oh, Teetee." I sit next to Tegan and guide her to sit on my lap. Tegan rarely demands this kind of attention and affection, but I know she wants it and I always fail to see it unless she informs me. Also, I know that when she's feeling bad, she wants to be taken care of this way. Her day didn't go well.
I begin aiding my girl with soothing backrubs as we look at one another. I reach for her hair and push it back so I can take a better look at her dismal irises, leaning towards a softer yellowish shade. I caress her face and try to remove her tie. I begin to hum softly as she begins to cry. Some part of me wants to rock her like a child and lull her to sleep; the other part wants to cry with her because seeing her repressed anguishes me.
I hold her in my arm, though. I kiss her wet cheeks and wet lips and I taste the saltiness of the liquid. I unbutton her shirt and unbuckle her belt. Her tummy relaxes as soon as I unzip her pants. I trace her clavicle, making my way to her chest. I remove the shirt and she helps me by slipping it off her arms. I help her again with her sports bra, taking it off with two hands. She sits up to slip her pants off then sits back on my lap and wraps her arms around my midsection.
"Shhh," I whisper. "It's gonna be alright. Come here." I let her rest her head on my chest like she craves to do when she feels defeated. I am the only person who witnesses this lack of power from her, yet I fail to see it when she is too strong for me to handle. She sobs and wails with loud cries on my chest. She wets my shirt and holds on my arm tightly. I never think she's this broken until I see her crumbling down in front of me. I never notice it until it happens. We are so much alike that the devil remembers to mess with my mind once again.
No. I push the devil away and try to calm her down, try to figure out the source of her grief.
"What's wrong?" I ask softly. I try my best to make my words clear. I say the sentences twice in my head before pronouncing them so she knows I'm here for her.
Tegan looks up at me and shakes her head. "Nothing," she mumbles. "I just feel very, I don't know, bad about everything. I guess I'm not used to this pressure. I am a bit sad these days, I don't know why. I feel…I feel guilty."
"Wh…why?"
"I feel like I keep taking from you and not giving."
"No," I say. "Do…don't say that. Please, Tegan. I am alright. The past is long g…gone. I am fine."
Tegan chuckles, the kind of laugh that mocks what someone has said. "I can't get it back to the way it was before."
"Is this about…uh…uh…sex?" I ask timidly.
"It's not just that." Tegan sits beside me, resting her head on my pillow. She looks up at the ceiling and says, "Your entire attitude towards me spells out fear. I seem so in control yet all I want is to be controlled by you. Not in the bad sense. Sometimes I want to feel like I am the younger one, you get it? But I always fail and attack and take and order. Just this morning I was telling you to do this and do that, and I didn't realize it until some people at work talked about me behind my back saying I am a sick control freak who has no idea how to run a business. I thought about it and they're fucking right. All I do is order and demand. I am this monster that has to make everything go her way or else things aren't done correctly."
"Tegan." I lie next to her and hold her hand. "I…uh…I honestly don't know what to tell you, but…"
"You don't have to say anything. It's the truth."
"Babe…n…no. It's actually against your will in a way. Your illness plays a huge part in that, and I think…I…uh I think that you sh…should embrace it and appe…app…appre…" I fail to let the word out.
"Appreciate?" Tegan spells it for me.
"Y…yes. You should do that. You should be proud because….you…you are hardworking and successful." I exhale deeply as soon as I finish my sentence. I don't know when will this be over, but I am honestly sick and tired of my inability to utter long sentences.
"God." Tegan laughs softly. "You are magical. You always know how to make me feel better. You say the same words mum says, but when they come from you it's like magic." I feel Tegan's half naked body next to mine, hugging me from the side. She kisses my temple and breathes on my ear. "I love you, Sasa. You really are a great therapist. Someday you will be." I have to suppress every power within me that wants to mock whatever she has said. Good things never come my way anymore. She's the only good thing I have and if I let go, I will have nothing.
"Sara?"
"Yes?" I turn around to look at her. Our lips touch for a moment but then she pushes her head back.
"Are you still attracted to me?"
A stupid little laugh escapes me. I look at her and nod. "I am," I say clearly.
"Do we have a bed death?"
"N…no." I swallow. "I am…just…I need to trust myself before I can…give anything to you again. I need…t…to trust us again. I feel for you, I mean…I get turned on by you. I always am, but I…I am scared."
"I don't want to push you or force you, but it tortures me, you know. Do you…do you touch yourself?"
"I don't," I say quickly. "I don't," I repeat.
"How come?"
"I…I don't know. I just…I lose interest."
"I heard that antidepressants make your sex drive really low."
"Umm…yeah, I guess."
"I'm sorry."
I look down at Tegan's breasts: pale, beautiful, still full, nipples still hard with barbells. Everything about her breasts is enchanting.
"Read for me," Tegan orders with a raspy voice. "Read your favorite poem."
I did not practice that poem today; I actually practiced reading a passage from a book. I want to tell her that but I don't want to upset her.
I reach for my laptop in order to Google the poem. I have never memorized it because I don't memorize things easily except my songs. It's hard for me to read now, but I'm better at reading it than reading other things because I am familiar with it.
"I'm ready," I say.
I look up at Tegan, whose hands are between her legs. I am blanketed by immediate heat as soon as I realize what she's doing. This hasn't happened since our mutual masturbation days. I avert my gaze instantly and focus on my laptop's screen.
"Relax," Tegan whispers sensually. "Relax, take a deep breath, take your time and read each line slowly and carefully." I look up once again. Her eyes are closed. Her fingers are rubbing the dark fabric covering her crotch. "Your voice gets me hot. I hope you don't mind." She opens her eyes to look at me. I shake my head. "Start when you're ready."
I clear my throat and take one last glance at her working hand before I look at my screen. "S…sonnet 116 by Shak…Shakespeare." I clear my throat again. I look up: Tegan's watching me. I look down between her legs: swiftly, she pushes the thin material to the side, revealing abundance of hair.
I swallow and close my eyes for a second then open them again. I take a deep breath in order to start. "Let me not to the m…ma…marriage of true minds admit impe…im…impediments," I read. I look between her legs again. I am struck with awe upon seeing her digits rubbing and stroking the moist parts of her. I see redness and swollen hunger. She brushes the hair and spreads her lips, plunging in for mere seconds then moving back to the small, delicious clit. I know what she's doing: she's tempting me.
I decide to read from the beginning:
"Let me not to the marriage of true minds
Admit impediments. Love is not love
Which alters when it alteration finds,
Or bends with the remover to remove:"
I hear a soft, but long, moan and stop. Three fingers are inside and one is twisting and twirling her left nipple. My own nipples erect and plead for attention. I feel some type of pain in my core; I feel abandonment. I feel the need gradually creeping up inside my arteries and veins like some kind of a snake or a worm. I decide to stop paying attention to what Tegan's trying to do and read again without stopping:
"O no; it is an ever-fixed mark,
That looks on tempests, and is never shaken;
It is the star to every wandering bark,
Whose worth's unknown, although his height be taken."
The moans have thickened while I am reading. I stop, proud that I did not make one single mistake while reading. I did not stutter. I did not even lisp. I did not quiver or shake and I did not give up to the temptation that my girlfriend is forcing on me. I am no way going to fall under the pressure again.
"Love's not Time's fool, though rosy lips and cheeks
Within his bending sickle's compass come;
Love alters not with his brief hours and weeks,
But bears it out even to the edge of doom."
I read each line very slowly and carefully. I stop at every verb and admire every word. I stop when I hear the sudden sob emerging from the woman lying close to me. I look up at her face and witness streaming tears. She hiccups and cries as if she has lost someone. I've never seen her crying this way except when she was trying to get back to me. Maybe she feels that she has truly lost me. I want to tell her that she hasn't, but I can't say anything. I look between her legs very quickly in order to preserve the sanctity of this moment. I only see a mess of fingers moving around; doing god knows what in there.
I look at the last two lines and take a breath. I admire them and study them until Tegan's cries fill my ears and head. I memorize them, look her in the eyes, and whisper:
"If this be error and upon me proved,
I never writ, nor no man ever loved."
Unwillingly, unconsciously, I start to cry with her. Maybe the situation we are in is bad, maybe I'm not aware of it. I wish I can feel what goes inside her heart or mind. I wish I can turn back the time. Maybe it's partially my fault. I mean, I know it is and I know she feels very sorry and very sad, but she has to know that things take time. They are getting better, she said it this morning. I wish I can give her everything and make her happy.
She shudders and I know she has come. I look down at her still hand. I lie next to her again. She lifts up her drenched hand and before she can rub her eyes with it, I get a hold of it. She looks at me with her puffy, red eyes. I direct her digits inside my mouth and close my eyes. Her taste sends a rushed kick inside my system. I open my eyes again: she has a bewildered, shocked expression. I let go of her fingers and kiss her knuckles.
"I…I miss your taste," I mumble. I kiss her knuckles again.
"Thank you."
"I'm sorry." Tegan smiles and shakes her head. "I'm sorry you're not okay."
"I'm very good," she says, still smiling. "This poem makes me emotional because it's true. That part, before the ending, it reminds me of you."
"Oh."
"It also reminds me of my mum. You know, we took this poem in grade nine.
"Yes. I remember."
"Yes, so she used to explain literature for me because I'm bad at it. She told me it's her favorite poem even though she didn't really fancy Shakespeare. But she really liked this part and the way you read it reminds me of hers. It's a lot like hers.
"Mum was going through a lot at that time, through so much, I don't know how she got out of it but she did. I remember her saying that patience births good things and I didn't believe her because it was the end of the world to us back then, but I guess she's right because things has changed and I didn't notice until now.
"I…I remembered our situation, last year, months ago, and now. I'm not noticing a change but when I compare…everything is different and I know one day very soon things will be better for us. It just seems like it's the end of the world at one point when I think of it too much."
I think I have misunderstood her cries and her pleading. I haven't been fair with my judgment. I didn't know that's what she's been feeling. This is why I wish I can get inside her brain. She surprises me and I always think the worst of her. I wish I didn't judge so quickly, I always wrong her.
"I'm sorry that I…I treated you as if you're evil."
"Please don't apologize for anything," she says. "You never wronged me." I bite my lower lip as I hear these words. I close my eyes and shake my head.
"With…with my thoughts I did."
She doesn't say anything. She remains silent. She doesn't answer or reply.
"Are you hungry?" I ask.
"I love you, Sara," she says. "I truly love you."
"I love you, too."
She smiles. "You're not stuttering."
"Yes. It kinda gets…uh…better at night."
"Or you're just relaxed."
"Yes."
"I told you I'll take you out for dinner," Tegan says.
"You seem...um…tired."
"I feel so much better now. I cried, I had an orgasm, I talked to you—I feel amazing."
"Alright."
"I'll go take a quick shower so we can go out. Wanna join me?"
"Yes," I say. "I can use one."
"I bet." She winks.
I bet my face is as red as it has been those early dorm days when we took sheepish glimpses of each other from across the room.