Day 13 – Anxious Stomach

Moffitt should have been asleep hours ago, but had gradually progressed from lying awake, to sitting up awake, to now pacing the bedroom. It was impossible to feel tired with how knotted and queasy his stomach was. Over the last hour or so, he was certain he would throw up—part of him wanted to, in hopes it would provide some relief—but he seemed to be just straddling the fine line between simply being nauseated, and actually needing to puke.

His wife, Vanora, slept on. She changed positions every now and then, but was so far blissfully unaware of her husband's predicament. Moffitt kept pacing, unsure if that was helping or making things worse. It would probably stop when he managed to not think about the coming day.

Some of the most important members of the Cambridge faculty are going to be observing me tomorrow. How can I not be nervous? I know most of them, though, so I really shouldn't be nervous, and my father's going to be there… honestly, that makes it worse. Everything has to be perfect. I don't want to embarrass my father in front of so many important people. Or embarrass myself. Oh, dear, I'm going to throw up on myself tomorrow, aren't I? Moffitt stopped his pacing, feeling the series of large knots suddenly tighten harder. He struggled to resist the urge to keel over and clutch his stomach.

There was a light rustling sound, then Vanora sat up in bed. "Jack? What are you doing, love?" she asked.

"I can't sleep," he said.

"I can see that. What's wrong?"

"You know the lecture I'm doing tomorrow?"

"Yes. You talked about it all day."

"I'm going to screw it up. I just know it."

"No, you won't. You've done countless lectures before."

"Not in front of so many important people."

"You'll be in worse shape for it if you don't sleep, love."

"I've tried. Nothing works." Moffitt slumped down to the edge of the bed. "I feel like I'm going to throw up, but nothing's coming."

"Are you just anxious, or are you actually sick?"

"Maybe I should call out sick."

"Oh, Jack, I know you'd never miss out on something like this." Vanora opened her arms. "Come here. I'll make you feel better."

"I don't think anything can make me feel better until that bloody observation is over tomorrow."

"I haven't even tried yet. Come on. Come back to bed." She brushed a messy lock of short, brown hair out of her bleary blue eyes while waiting for Moffitt to move into her arms. She hugged him and kissed his forehead. "I think someone needs a cuddle."

"Not sure a cuddle will help," Moffitt muttered.

Vanora squeezed him. "Now you're being silly. You love being snuggled."

"I mean… you're right, I do." Moffitt turned to face Vanora, unable to resist a grin when their noses touched. "I appreciate you trying, my darling."

Vanora kissed his cheek. "I have faith in you tomorrow. You're spectacular with your presentations."

Moffitt's smile faded. "I don't think this one will be spectacular. I'll screw it up, and right now, I'm so anxious I might just vomit all over the bed."

Vanora shushed him, then moved behind him, resting her head on his left shoulder, and keeping her arms around him. "Stop thinking about it for a little while," she whispered before kissing him right next to his ear.

"Alright. What do you want me to think about instead?"

"Something happy." Vanora nuzzled Moffitt, then began gently running her hand down his chest.

Before she could touch his stomach, though, Moffitt instinctively took her hand, and tensed up. He had lost count of how many times he had been beaten over the course of the war, how many times he had been kicked or punched in the stomach. Being hit with a club while held by the SS in Germany late in the war was one memory that stuck out clearly, and frequently appeared in his nightmares. He tried to pull himself out of his memories. There's nothing to be afraid of. It's just your wife.

"I won't hurt you, Jack, I promise." Vanora sighed, and hugged him tightly with her free arm. "Something that simple shouldn't make you nervous."

"I know. Trust me, I've thought about that before." Moffitt hadn't let go of Vanora's hand. His anxiety swiftly worsened as flashes of memories from his numerous beatings raced across his mind, and he found himself absentmindedly massaging her hand with his thumb.

"I should be making you feel safe, not forcing you to relive… everything you went through," Vanora said. She sounded ashamed.

"It's not your fault."

"I should remember this, though—you were very apprehensive about me touching your stomach the first time we slept together, because of how many times you were beaten during the war."

Moffitt still felt guilty at times for his behavior the first time he and Vanora shared a bed. All she had been trying to do was cuddle and caress him, but as soon as her hands got near his stomach, he wrapped his arms protectively around it. Fortunately, Vanora wasn't upset with him, but rather felt sorry that he had gone through such horrible treatment, and respected the boundaries he set. "I know you're not trying to hurt me. You don't have to apologize."

"Even if it's not intentional… I should be more conscious of it. You were quite clear about that."

Moffitt slowly lessened his grip on Vanora's hand. He had said before how much he liked her gentle touch, how comforting it was. "I don't want you to ever feel ashamed of trying to help," he said, quietly. "So…" He released his grip, and rested his hand on top of hers while tenderly pressing it against his stomach. Gradually, he took his hand away, but kept it close in case he wanted her to stop.

"Are you sure?" Vanora asked.

"Go ahead. Be gentle, but not so gentle that you tickle me." Moffitt smiled, trying to lighten the mood.

It didn't work. Now, Vanora was nervous. "I don't want to stress you by accident."

"It's okay. I'm giving you permission, so I have no one to blame but myself."

"Jack, you already have a very bad habit of blaming yourself for things you didn't do."

"In this case, I'll be entirely at fault."

Vanora sighed. "It isn't your fault, though. The Germans who hurt you... it's their fault for causing this."

"And they're long gone. I would like you to try." Moffitt kissed Vanora's cheek. "I'll let you know if it's too much, but I do want to get past this, and... not be so afraid of it anymore." He nuzzled her when she kept hesitating. "Please?"

"Alright, but you're in control."

Moffitt figured that was fair, but he took his hand away completely to show Vanora that he wasn't afraid, that he would let her try to comfort him. He shifted a little to get comfortable. The waves of nausea had gradually decreased their intensity, but they were still present, as were the tight knots.

Vanora started with stroking Moffitt's chest again, pausing at the base of his sternum. When he didn't say or do anything, she continued downward. Moffitt tensed a little when her hand touched just below his sternum, but managed to relax. That space on his upper belly was where that SS guard had hit him with the club. It took a long time for that bruise to finally fade, and for it to stop hurting. Vanora was being gentle. She wasn't striking him with her hand, fist, or any kind of heavy object. There were just soft, slow strokes all up and down his torso, including his stomach. A kind of touch he hadn't experienced on that part of his body. He wanted more memories of this, and less of his nightmares. It certainly helped with melting away his anxiety, at least for that moment. That moment was all he needed. A pleasant memory. Something to focus on later on when things became difficult. Soft, gentle, and loving. The knots loosened, and the nauseous waves stopped.

Vanora eventually moved her hands back up to Moffitt's head when he started looking like he was about to doze off, finishing their cuddle sensation with a scalp massage. It was during that massage, something he was completely comfortable with and enjoyed greatly, when Moffitt was confident he could finally—finally—sleep, and lay down in bed with his arm around his wife, holding her close. "I love you so much, my darling," he whispered.

"I love you, too, Jack," Vanora replied, turning to kiss the tip of Moffitt's nose. "You feel better?"

"Much better. Thank you." Moffitt let out a contented sigh. "I feel safe with you. I don't know if I've ever expressed that. With you, I'm confident everything will be okay." He kissed the top of Vanora's head, then closed his eyes for a restful sleep.