Sleep comes only in spurts tonight. I toss and turn, replaying my interaction with June in the kitchen today. What I said, what she said, what I meant. It's all muddled together in my head, tangled up like a fishing line at the bottom of a tackle box. My apartment is cold, my bed colder.
I keep hearing her asking me "Is this enough for you, this bullshit life?" It's not, it hasn't been for most of my adult life. The question bothers me, and it has worked its way under my skin causing irritation. The spaces in my head and my heart that I thought were previously numb are starting to tingle, threatening to come back to life. If I don't stop it, then pain will return, and my ability to put up with this "bullshit life" be compromised. If I stick to my high ground here, it also means closing myself off to June completely. I see no way I can keep any part of her near me and keep on as I have. I'm not so dim as to not see that it's her presence that has begun this transformation.
Rolling over, I stumble out of bed and go to the bench to look out at the windows I know she sleeps behind. Can I let her go? I rest my temple on a cool windowpane and let my eyes slide shut. The next thing I know I'm jarred awake by a persistent pounding on my door. Rubbing sleep from my eyes, I stumble across the room to the door. I want it to be June, but as the sun appears to be well up, it's not likely to be her.
I pull open the door, and Rita stands on the other side, looking a bit worried.
I run a hand through my hair and try to shake my drowsiness away.
"So you're not dead, good," she stated, clearly upset with me.
I step aside to allow her entry, but she stays planted on the landing. "It's 10 am," Rita scowls.
"Oh…Damn…" I mutter. "I haven't slept well in awhile, I guess it caught up with me. Is the Commander livid?" I ask, moving towards my dresser to start pulling out clothes.
She shakes her head, "Hasn't noticed yet," she says, "I told him you were working in the garage."
"Oh, ah, thanks," I say, pulling off my t-shirt for a clean one.
Rita shuffles on her feet and I look over at her. "I can be ready in like 5 minutes."
She just nods and looks uncomfortable.
"What's wrong?" I ask, suddenly concerned.
"What happened? With Offred?" she asks quietly, keeping her eyes averted.
I pull on a clean black button-up and sigh. "Nothing," I dismiss, looping a black tie around my neck.
Rita looks up, piercing me with her brown eyes. "Bullshit. The girl is withdrawn and pale," she states.
Shit. I hold up my pants, "You mind?" I ask.
She turns around but stays on the landing. I'm not getting free of her that easily. I growl under my breath and pull off my sweats and replace them with my uniform pants. At the sound of my belt clanking, Rita turns back to me.
I put my hands on my hips and consider what to say. I could blame the Jezebel's trip, it's plausible I guess, but I suspect Rita can smell my bs from 100 yards. "It's getting too complicated…our friendship. I told her I needed to step back," I state.
Rita's body language mirrors mine, but she clearly agitated. "Oh, that's what you're calling?" she says pointedly.
I turn and look out the window, irritated that I'm being called out. "It's none of your business," I state coldly.
Rita outright laughs. "Like hell, it isn't. Do you think you're the only one who was hurt over what happened to the last girl? You think you're the only one who has let this one in a closer than you meant to?" she demands.
A hand grinds into one of my eyes. "What if it puts her on the wall?" I sigh.
Rita is quiet for a second, then steps one foot into my house. "Isn't that her choice to make?" she asks.
I look at her and tilt my head. "I don't think I could live with it," I admit.
She laughs humorously. "We're already past that point Nick. We already care," she reasons.
I shake my head.
"Seriously, if a black van showed up right now and took her, would it hurt less today than it would have yesterday?" she asks evenly.
"I want to keep her safe, I can't do that if I'm so close," I state, changing tactics.
"Wrong again," the Martha says. "You're the one who's made a connection. It's you who can give her the information she needs to avoid Gilead landmines. If she feels she can't confide in you, then you won't know what to look for, and then how are you going to help her when she needs it? And you know she's going to need it. That girl…she's a live wire, unpredictable."
I run a hand over my scruffy chin. She's not wrong. I've seen the potential in her eyes to make waves.
I lob my final argument at the woman who has somehow become my friend. "She has a husband, in Canada." I've tried hard not to think of the man since I found out about him, but the truth is her marriage is always present in the back of my head.
Her lips purse in thought. "Again, isn't how she deals with that her choice?" she asks.
I shrug. "Not sure how I feel about being an adulterer," I mumble.
Rita leans against my counter, her eyes smiling. I've all but admitted my relationship with June. "Gilead annulled all those marriages, so technically she's not married."
I level my eyes at her. "Semantics, really?"
She sighs and pushes away from the counter. "You're right, it's complicated. The husband, the handmaid thing, the chance of being caught, it's all a gamble, a definite risk. But I've never seen you more confident or at peace in the years we've worked together, and that is something you shouldn't ignore." she says.
"But what about her?"
"How did she react when you called it off?" she asks.
I laugh mirthlessly. "She was…pissed."
"Then that's your answer," she returns.
I scratch the back of my neck. "I'll think about what you said," I state. I'm not ready to make any promises or decisions.
She nods and turns for the stairs. She's just out the door when she turns back to me. "Oh, I found these on the counter, they must have fallen off in the kitchen or breakfast room," she says placing my dog tags on the counter.
I cross over and pick them up, running a finger over the metal.
She must see the disappointment on my face, "You didn't lose them, did you?" she says softly.
I take in a deep breath. "Nope. This is a clear "Fuck you," I tell her.
Rita snorts, "See? She's spicy that one. Good luck with that, regardless of how you decided to proceed," she chuckles.
Reaching out a hand she takes the tags and puts them on the counter. "Come on, I'll make you some lunch," she says pulling out after her. "What do you want?" she asks, looking up at me as we traipse down the stairs.
"Don't know. Got any meatloaf left?" I ask, my tone the lightest it's been in days.
She throws back her head and laughs. "No, but come on, I'll get you sorted."
Lunch tucked away; I immerse myself in the task of an oil change and a transmission flush on the Benz. I'm up to my elbows in grease and the sun has drops behind the horizon when a pair of shiny shoes appear near my head. I roll out from under the car and find the Commander there, a wickedly satisfied grin on his face. "We're going back to Jezebel's. Tonight," he announces.
I get up from the trolly and stand, wiping my hands. "That's really short notice sir," I state. "There is no time to check the lists," I warn him.
He waves me off, "I'm not worried," he dismisses. "Plus, how can I let a begging woman down?" he asks, his creepy smile playing on his thin lips.
This is June's idea? What the…
"We leave at ten," he states and turns and marches out of the garage.
I go over to the workbench and pick up my watch. It's nearly nine now. He's getting confident, too confident. Not checking the lists, going while Serena's home, this whole thing is progressing too quickly. But then again, this sounds like it was June's idea. Something doesn't add up.
I toss the rag in my hands into a bin, and head over to the car. I was just finishing up when Fred came in. I take a few minutes to attach all the caps and give the engine compartment a final once-over before lowering the hood. I make a quick job of moving the car out to the driveway, then head up for a shower.
The hour passes far too quickly and before I know it I'm putting the two into the back of the car. June barely looks at me. She's angry with me so I can't blame her, but it's still uncomfortable getting her cold shoulder.
We drive along, the chatter between handmaid and commander is minimal tonight. At one point I hear Fred ask her if she's happy. She coyly responds, "Beyond." It might be my self-centeredness, but I feel like the response is pointed at me, to make me angry. It works.
Fred confirms my suspicions, thanking her for suggesting an encore. I grind my back teeth. She looks at me in the mirror, letting her hard gaze linger.
"I guess I'll have to think of a way to thank you," she flirts. There is no question now, she's throwing jabs at me. I grip the steering wheel hard.
"Oh, I'll think of something," Fred coos.
Images of him touching her, making her groan, flash in my head and I strongly consider pulling over and beating him to death, but I just keep driving.
"Sir."
"Yes, what is it?" he asks, sounding frustrated with my interruption.
"We are coming up to the checkpoint," I tell him, trying to focus on my job and not the feeling clawing at the back of my brain.
Fred sighs, "Oh, your no fun! Nick's no fun is he?" he asks June.
She agrees with an "Mmmm-mmm. No, Nick just needs to chill," she says pointedly.
I look back at her and her eyes are hard.
"You heard her, you just need to chill," Fred laughs, having no idea of the subtext happening between June and I at the moment.
We arrive and I get out to hold an umbrella over them. I avoid making eye contact with her.
We're once again on the elevator, heading to the brothel. Fred may not know what is happening between June and me but he does like to gloat. "Doesn't she look stunning tonight?" he asks. I glance and her and think no, not really. She's more beautiful without all the makeup and dazzling clothes. The thought of her naked body wrapped around me flashes through my head, and I push it away.
Fred laughs, pleased with himself. "He's so chill, he's speechless." Oh, good one Fred, you're so witty. "You're too much for him to handle," he states confidently. I want to shoot him with my gun.
"We won't be long, we're going straight up to the room," he declares.
"Yes, sir," I say quietly. Just straight to the raping, gotcha.
June speaks up for the first time, "I thought we'd have a drink at the bar," she requests.
I can't help but look over at her. Something is definably up. I've been feeling it all night. The fact she even wanted to come here, and now she's prolonging it with a drink? What are you up to? I worry.
In the hallway, I'm once again left with the cloak. I watch them start down the hall, and my concern overrides my self-preservation. I've already informed the commander of my concerns about the night, and to question him is dangerous. But June needs to know, she needs to be on her toes, whatever she is up to. "Sir," I call out, and they both stop and look at me. "This trip is so last minute we don't know who might be here tonight," I state. "I just want you to be careful," I state, looking at June as I say it.
The prospect of sex must outweigh his need to discipline me for questioning him because he says "You're a good man, Nick. Always looking out for me."
No, I'm not. A good man would shoot you and run away with the girl you're about to rape. I think.
I watch them disappear down the hall, hating myself more with each click of heels against the tile they make.
I swallow back some swear words and go to stash the cloak in the cleaning closet. When I step out, I spot Beth in the hall retrieving a large bottle of vinegar from a shelf over her head. I go over and grab it for her. She looks up at me with a surprised smile.
"Nick!" she exclaims.
I give her a nod and toss an arm around my waist, leading toward the kitchen.
"What are you doing back? I didn't see your guy on the list, did I?" she asks, pointing at the spot she wants me to set the gallon of vinegar. The fact she reads the list daily is not even a blip on the radar between us.
"You are correct, he's not on the list," I nod.
"Oh Damn! The handmaid again?" she asks, twisting off the top of the container I've just retrieved for her.
I nod.
"He's…something!" she says sarcastically.
"He's an asshole," I growl.
She lifts the vinegar and pours about half of the bottle into a jar with a lid and spout at the bottom.
"What are you making?" I ask, desperately trying to change the subject.
She grabs a container of blue dish soap and squirts in a healthy amount. "Cleaner for the bathrooms," she says, reaching in and turning the whole thing around with her bare hand and arm. "Do me a favor and pour that cup over there in here." She requests.
I pick up the glass and immediately smell that its lemon juice. I pour it in, avoiding her sleeve which is precariously close to the surface of the liquid. I don't think much about what cleaning looks like in Gilead, it's not a job I have to do as a man. Even as low-status as I am, Rita cleans my apartment.
"No 409?" I ask.
She laughs, pulling her arm out of the jar. "All those chemicals? Really, Nick, it's like you don't live here, sometimes." she laughs. She grabs the plastic lid and screws it onto the jar. "This works better anyway," she states.
She goes over to the sink and starts washing her hands. "You want?" she asks, raising a suggestive brow.
I shake my head, "Thanks, but he's not planning on staying long," I return.
She comes over and grabs my lapels. "Doesn't need to take long," she offers.
Her pretty gray eyes are inviting, and that is normally enough to start things working for me below the waist, but there's nothing. I give her a hug but shake my head. "Not tonight," I say softly. She squeezes me and let's go. "Okay. How about some pasta?" she offers instead.
I nod. "Yeah, I could eat," I respond, but even as I agree I know it will be hard to force anything down.
We go into another part of the kitchen, and she disappears around the corner before coming back with a steaming bowl and putting it in front of me.
"Any news?" I ask, always looking for information as I've been trained to do.
From further in the kitchen, someone calls her name. She looks back and holds up a finger. Reaching into her apron, she produces a fork. "I'll be back in a second," she says and turns to address whatever requires her attention.
I sit at the small table with mismatched chairs and pick at the food. Mostly I'm just shoving it around the plate, as it gets cold. My thoughts are never far from June. If I hadn't been such an ass and pushed her away maybe she would have told me. Maybe I could have taken whatever risk that needs taking.
Beth reappears after a while. She leans casually on the chair across from me. "I got nothing," she tells me in answer to my earlier question.
"Nobody's planning anything stupid?" I ask, June's eyes flashing my head.
She shakes her head no.
"You ask around at the bar?" I ask
"Mmm-hum," she hums in the affirmative. "The girls in here do two things, they get fucked or they get fucked up. They aren't in the best shape for a rebellion." She tells me, as she notices the lack of missing food on my plate. "What's wrong with your pasta?" she demands. "That's the best fucking carbonara you'll ever get, I swear." She boasts.
I look down at my plate before going out on a limb. "Anybody says anything about the Waterford's Handmaid?" I ask, trying my best to sound nonchalant.
"Why? Is she trouble?" Beth inquires.
I don't provide an answer, I just look at her waiting for her insight.
"No, not a word," she states emphatically.
I nod and stand, grabbing my jacket.
"Nick?" she calls after me. I turn a bit, letting her have her say. "A driver poking around, asking questions? Good way to get yourself on the wall," she warns. If she only knew. "Stay here with me. For old times' sake," she says. "I can make you something else," she offers.
I shake my head, feeling dejected, the worry coating every never in my body. "They'll be done soon," I say, not able to keep the irritation out of my tone. I sit down and sigh.
Beth's eyes flash in sudden understanding. A small smile pulls on the corners of her mouth as she sits down. "It's the Handmaid," she declares. "You're sweet on her, aren't you?" she asks, her face soft.
I stare at my pasta and shake my head but I can't keep a stupid smile from pulling at my face. I glance up at her, guilty as charged. I take a fork full of pasta and shove it in my mouth. I don't want to talk about it.
"It's dangerous, my friend," she warns. Yep, I know Beth. I'm an idiot.
She gives me a sad smile.
I chew my food, no response is needed here, she knows I know better. "You're right this is incredible," I state.
She takes in a deep breath and shakes her head at me, but her face remains kind. She's telling me she's sorry for my plight.
The pair are back down in under an hour. June look's upset, and distraught. June and Fred sneak back into the house, and I go back to my empty apartment. I immediately go to the window and look out, praying she'll go to hers. I'm desperate to see her, find out what happened, and try to fix my blunder. But she does appear, the lights don't go on in her room, only in the bathroom. My hope sinks. It's too dangerous to go over there, if she's still mad, a fight could be overheard. I'll have to wait.
I peel off my Gilead armor and fall into bed.
A shake of my arm pulls me to consciousness, and I sit up startled. Rita is standing next to my bed, her face pale. "Get dressed, they need the car right away," she urges, even handing me a pair of pants.
"Is everyone okay?" I ask, meaning June of course.
She nods, "Yes, but a handmaid has stolen a child and they want June to talk her down," she states pulling open my closet for a clean shirt.
I'm up and pulling pants on over my boxers, unconcerned that Rita is in the room. My heart is pumping hard in my chest. She hands me the shirt and goes to the dresser for socks.
Where? I ask taking the socks from her shaking hands.
"Longfellow Bridge," she says, grabbing my shoes from the door.
I pull on socks then shoes and I'm up and following her, coat in hand, out the door.
I've just pulled the car out of the garage when the Waterfords and June come rushing out the door.
Fred takes the passenger seat, and we are off. "Don't mind the speed limits, we have a dispensation," he states.
I bob and weave through traffic, making the trip to Longfellow in half the time it usually takes. When we pull up the family and June are rushed out of the car and down the bridge. I step out of the car and find the closest Guardian. "What's going on?" I ask.
"Handmaid fled her posting in the night, went back to her old posting, and grabbed the kid. She threatening to jump off the bridge."
I stand up on tiptoes and spot the handmaid standing on the rail, her red frock blowing in the breeze.
"Who's kid did she take?" I demand.
"Putnam," the younger Guardian responds.
OfWarren. June had a friend posted there, this must be her.
I thank the guard and maneuver my way around the cars and crowd.
I get close enough to see June looking up and talking with the woman holding a baby that's dressed in all white. I can't make out what she's saying, but the woman with the child is engaging with her.
The wind blows hard and cold and I push my hands deep into my pockets. I didn't grab gloves or a hat when I left and it's so cold, but really it's concern that has me shivering. If this goes bad, they'll blame June. I bow my head and pray in earnest to the real God, not the one Gilead has fabricated, that he gives June the words needed to save this woman and the child.
After a few minutes of conversation, the handmaid turns to June and bends down to hand over the baby. Praise Be. She then places a kiss on June's forehead, before turning and jumping off the bridge. June stands there, baby in her arms, her mouth open in shock. Suddenly everyone on the bridge is moving. The Putnam's and the Waterford's move to recover the baby. Aunt Lydia and the Guardians are looking over the edge of the bridge. There is the sound of a boat on the water below. Everyone is in motion but June. She's frozen, staring at the spot where her friend just jumped from. It occurs to me that she might be considering the same thing. I push past the people and go to her. I put a hand on her back, and she seems to startle. Her eyes go to mine, they are full of tears.
"I'm sorry," I say softly.
June sniffs and shakes her head. "Maybe she's free now," she says softly, so no one else can hear the blasphemous statement.
With a hand on her back, I lead her back to the car. "Come on, it's freezing out here," I tell her.
She says nothing and allows me to guide her. At the car, I pull open the door and help her inside. Her hand grasps mine. "I thought about it Nick," she admits, still staring at the bridge.
I squeeze her hand, "I know you did," I respond. "And it might make me a selfish asshole, but I'm glad you didn't go through with it," I admit.
Her eyes, finally come back to mine.
I let go of her hand and get behind the wheel to wait for the Waterfords. I put down the partition. "Can we talk?" I ask warily, looking at her in the mirror.
She adjusts herself in her seat. "You were pretty clear the other day," she says evenly.
I sigh and squeeze the wheel with my hands. "I'm not wrong, it's dangerous," I start.
She groans and looks away from my eyes in the mirror.
"But, I was reminded recently that you're a person who has her own brain and can make her choices," I say, thinking of Beth.
She huffs out a humorless laugh, "Not according to the government," she states, her eyes a bit vacant.
I nod, "With them maybe, but not with me. I don't want that kind of relationship with you or anyone actually."
She finally looks back at me. "So you're saying you didn't mean it?" she challenges.
I laugh and let my head fall back against the headrest. "No I meant it, we shouldn't see each other anymore, but what a meant and what I want are kind of at war at the moment," I tell her.
"Classic head vs. penis hu?" she scoffs.
I look up at her, my eyes very serious. "It's not just that. Not just the sex. I miss talking to you," I admit.
This makes her laugh out loud, so much so she covers her mouth. "You've told me nearly nothing about yourself," she returns.
I run a hand over my eyes, she's right of course. "I can work on that," I say. "It's hard for me."
She studies me for a second. "Job hazard of being an Eye?" she asks.
"I never talked much before that either, but the job hasn't helped."
She looks around for a second, checking the happenings out the window, the scoots up to put a hand through the window. "Truce?" she asks.
I turn to face her, looking fully at her. I take her hand, "Yeah." I agree. She quickly pulls away and puts on her handmaid face. I turn back and see Commander Waterford coming back towards the car.
"Come over tonight, we need to talk about what you were planning at Jezebel's" I state.
Her mouth drops open, but Fred is opening the door to slide in next to her. "Nick, Mrs. Waterford will be going home with the Putnam's and I need to be dropped off at the council," the Commander directs. "Then you can take Offred home, I'm sure she's quite tired after such an eventful morning," he says.
"Yes, sir." I return. An empty house. Sounds like the perfect time to properly apologize to June, I think, smiling to myself.
"That was amazing work out there Offred. You saved that child, you save baby Angela," Fred says.
"Praise be. I am glad to be in His service. Did you hear anything about the handmaid?" she asks, sweetly. She plays him so well.
"Only that she's alive," he tells her. "The Aunt said she was your friend?" he asks.
Offred looks relieved. "We went through training together," she explains.
"Well, if she makes it things might be difficult for her," Fred sighs.
Fuck, really Fred? You're a moron.
I look up and June looks grim. She knows the outcome from OfWarren is likely to be bad regardless, she didn't need it rubbed in her face.
Luckily the council building is close and we are quickly pulling up to drop off the Commander.
"What time for pick up sir?" I ask.
"This is bound to be a song and dance, let's plan on five," Fred says sounding irritated to have to deal with the near drowning of another human.
With that, we're off and heading the few blocks home. "I'm sorry about OfWarren," I offer.
"Janine," June says softly. "Her name's Janine."
"She had it bad at the Putnam's?" I ask.
Offred shrugs. "I know he was rapping her outside of the Ceremony and Mrs. Putnam resented her, so you know the norm."
I cringe.
"I think it was the baby that put her over the edge. Janine has always been a delicate soul. They shouldn't have made her a handmaid," she says sounding sad.
I shake my head, "The handmaid thing is fucked up, no one should be one."
We pull into the driveway and we both get out. "Can I come up now?" she asks, looking up the stairs.
"Not right now, in case Serena shows up. Let's go inside." I suggest.
June shuffles on her feet a second, "Rita," she points out.
"Yeah, about Rita," I say, guiding her towards the door. "She knows," I admit.
June's eyes widen, "What! How?"
"Apparently we need to keep our guard up better around her," I chuckle.
We enter the breakfast room and pull off our coats, Rita is in the kitchen washing dishes.
"Oh, my goodness, how did it all turn out?" she begs, turning and wiping her hands on her apron.
June's bottom lip quivers and she pulls it between her teeth.
"Ah, the baby is fine, thanks to June, but the handmaid is in the hospital. She jumped into the Charles."
Rita sighs in relief briefly before turning her surprised eyes on us. "June?" She asks, eyebrows raised.
June nobs.
Rita crosses over to her and takes her hands. "June…you look like a June," she smiles. Rita looks at me, then back at June, "And you two have mended fences?" she asks seriously.
June nods. "Yes, he realized he was a horse's backside and I graciously forgive him," she says playfully.
Rita's face splits and she laughs. "You two hungry? What am I saying, I'm sure you have a ton to talk about. There's food in the fridge if you want some. I've got beds to strip," she says before disappearing up the back stairs.
June stares at the vacant doorway for a second, "She so knows," she scoffs.
I laugh. "Yes, she does. What exactly she knows she hasn't said, but she knows we're…friends," I say deliberating on the right term to use.
June turns serious, "Do you think Fred or Serna know?" she worries.
I shake my head. "We're rarely together around them, and you're always careful in general in their presence. I think we're okay," I surmise.
She turns and looks up at me. "So my bedroom is upstairs and that is where Rita went," she states.
I grab her hand and lead her into the parlor, closing the door behind us.
The handle has no sooner latched and she's pushing me against the door, her mouth frantically seeking mine. I cup her face in my hands and pull her into me, playing my tongue along the line of her lips. Her mouth opens and I taste her. A groan comes from deep in my chest. She's like a drug to me, and I've been jonesing for a hit for days.
Her hands run up into my hair, one of them pulling it lightly. I walk her backward until we're next to the sofa, then I turn and pull her down with me. She climbs onto my lap straddling my hips. She's on her knees perched above me. She pulls back and looks at me. "Let's not break up again," she suggests. I smile and pull her down to me. "Yes ma'am," I agree. She kisses me again, and grids against me, making me growl. Her mouth is on my neck, her fingers working my tie and the top couple of buttons of my shirt. She works her way under my collar and her nibble turns into a bite. It's delicious. She licks the spot to soothe it, then does it again two more times. "That's going to leave a mark," I groan.
Her lips come up to my ears, "Yes, I know," she whispers seductively. "It will be my little secret. I'll see you all dressed up in your shirt and tie and I'll be the only one to know it's there. I like that thought," she mummers. This sends blood directly south. I'm pulling at her dress, moving it out of the way, as she works my belt, zipper and removed the last barriers of my clothes from between us. My fingers slide up her legs until they meet thick cotton underwear. I curse under my breath. She never wears these when she comes over, but we weren't planning on this escapade. She chuckles and lifts herself a bit and one of her hands joins mine. She pushes the fabric aside and then settles back down, this time on top of me, not in my lap.
My head goes back and hits the wood frame of the sofa, but I don't even care. We are moving and kissing and panting each other names. It's the epitome of makeup sex. Hot and incredibly sexy.
Both having found our release and she slumps down against my chest breathing hard. "God, your good at that," she pants.
I run a hand over her hair, "Right back attchya," I say, swallowing hard.
She lies against me for a while before sitting up and looking deep into my eyes. "It's not just your good looks and uh…this," she says waving a hand between us, "that keeps me coming to you, you know that right?" she asked, sincerely concerned. "I know I joked about it, but… it's more than that. Yes, this feels good, it's actually mind-blowingly amazing, but it's more... for me. I just feel…safe when I'm with you. Peaceful," she states, her eyes earnest. "That's why I was so…." She pauses looking for the right word.
"Mad, angry, livid," I offer up, with a smile.
She returns it but shakes her head no. "Hurt. I was hurt," she admits.
My hands find her arms and I run them up and down the length of them. "I'm sorry June. And since we're being honest here, it's not just the sex for me either," I tell her. "If you had forgiven me and still didn't want to go back to the physical aspect of things, I would have still been so grateful."
She quirks an eyebrow and looks suspiciously at me. "You would have been good without the sex?"
"Good? hell no!" I laugh. "But I could have gotten past it, I just want to be near you. Try and keep you safe." I tell her honestly.
She rests her forehead against mine and we just breathe each other in for a while. When we hear feet on the back stairs, we both groan but pull away. Time is up. We both get up, straighten our clothes and she runs a smoothing hand over the rumpled cushions of the couch.
She goes to the door but stops short of opening it. She turns on her toes and kisses me again, deep, and sweet. "Till tonight," she offers.
I nod. "Yes. And don't think I've forgotten about last night's trip," I say, looking at her knowingly.
She smirks and raises her shoulders. "I'll let you see if you can get it out of me," she teases playfully, then opens the doors. "Oh and fix your hair," she says, as she heads for the kitchen.
I reach up and find it in disarray. I stop at a mirror in the hall and pat it down. I fix my tie and follow her to the kitchen.
June's collected the shopping tokens from Rita and is grabbing her bag.
"See if they have Swiss cheese, if not provolone will do," Rita instructs. June dips her head in understanding. "Praise be,' she chirps and heads over to get her cloak.
I lean against the counter and watch her head out the door.
"So, she's seeming all better. Very forgiving," Rita jokes.
I rub a hand over my face to hide the smile that has popped up and go to the fridge for a snack.
Rita grabs her basket of wet laundry off the floor and heads towards the door to hang it to dry but pauses for a second. "Hey, try not to fuck it up again," she says over her shoulder.
I look at her, letting my eyes lock with hers for a second. "It's Gilead, so no promises…but I'll do my best," I commit.
She seems satisfied and heads out the door.