37. One and The Same

One and The Same

M ara

The urge to call my mother is difficult to resist.

Not knowing how she is doing fills me with anxiety, I can feel it sitting on my chest, rolling in my stomach.

Strangely, I want to be comforted by her, but I cannot remember the last time she offered me anything close to comfort.

It’s become apparent to me, that there are switches inside me, that she installed, to make me feel responsible for her, to make me seek out that which is not good for me, namely her.

She programmed me like that.

She installed those switches.

But now that I know they are there, they are mine to ferret out.

I hope that she is okay.

The first few days of the week were full, outings with Zale, therapy with Erin, therapy with Erin and Zale, seeing Willa, seeing Bex, working on my DBT workbook, and monitoring Olivia’s state of mind. She was beginning to process all that happened and the shock of losing me for three days, with no warning, in combination with the additional therapy appointments that took me away from her and disrupted her routine, had her acting out.

She would even out again in a week or two, and we’d have a time of peace. Then something else would trigger her, something that would take her time to process, time to identify, more time to find a way to express it to me, and then still more time to negotiate a solution. Such was the rhythm of our life, the ups and downs. What goes up must come down, what goes down will irrevocably go back up.

Acceptance was key.

That week we spent lots of time in the garden by ourselves, the garden I’d seriously neglected up until this point. Side-by-side we weeded and planted, the silent, familiar routine binding her to me, soothing her.

Without the pressure of being face to face and the challenge of eye contact, Olivia easily expressed herself. She talked about her surprise and her fear, and she wondered aloud that her Gran-Gran hadn’t been around. She wondered if she was in the hospital, too, or if she didn’t want to see her. I answered all of her questions and concerns, and those that didn’t sink in, she asked again the next day.

It brought home the realization that cutting off my mother may not be an option. With Olivia involved, I had to weigh the benefits of a relationship for Olivia, against the risk of removing someone, someone she valued, from her small world. In the end, I could only state my boundaries, if Bea failed to respect them, she’d be making the choice, not me. Still, it was me who would be picking up the pieces and Olivia who would suffer. I needed to proceed carefully.

Zale and I lay down together to sleep on Monday night, and he reached for his cell to start our playlist. We lay on our sides, facing each other. He held my hands encased in both of his. A new song came on, and I listened to the lyrics intently, wanting his assurances, willing him to find the way to lead me back.

Tears stung my eyes. This song was a lie, it was all a lie. I jerked my hands from his and his eyes snapped open in alarm.

“You did stop,” I accused him.

His eyebrows rose. “I never stopped loving you,” he argued.

“That’s not what the song says, Zale! It says, ‘never stop trying, never stop watching, losing your breath, getting used to me’...you stopped all of that. You didn’t want me, you didn’t even see me.” I sneered at him. “And I saw your face when that bitch kissed you, your fucking co-worker, you were disgusted with me.” I threw out my hand. “What the fuck was that anyway? You kiss your co-workers now? Just the females, right? Tell me, is it just the cute ones? The young ones? The ones with good bodies? Or do all the women get a kiss? Except for fucking me!” I slapped my hand on my chest, hard, the slap echoing in the sudden quiet.

The horror bubbled up inside me alongside the anger. He was going to get mad, turn his back, shut down. We hadn’t even made love yet, and now we wouldn’t for days. I told myself I didn’t want to anyway but that was also a lie. He deserved better than this, better than me. Our relationship was not healthy, I was not healthy, I was not good for him. I wasn’t safe. I moved to leave the bed, keeping my chin down to avoid seeing the disgust I earned.

“Mara do not fucking move from this bed,” he commanded in a hard voice he’d never once directed at me.

I turned to him in shock, half twisted to get out of the bed, looking back at him over my shoulder. My eyes locked onto his, which were not melty on me at all, but snapping and laser focused.

“You’re right that I lost focus on what’s most important. I was worried about my job, worried about Olivia’s future, and I lost sight of what’s most important. It won’t happen again.”

“That hurt! You hurt me!” My voice was still strident, but quieter, and I could hear the pain in my voice .

He winced and reached for me, but I pulled away, staring at him now, unsure of what was going to happen next, our usual pattern disrupted. I did not notice until much later that the urge to pull my own hair and dig my nails into my thighs had started to dissipate.

He held my gaze steadily, patiently. “Mara, it won't happen again.” I huffed in disbelief. He acknowledged it with a nod and continued. “I’m not saying I’ll be perfect, and perfectly there for you all the time, but my absence will be hours at worst, not months.”

I felt my face crumble. “I’m too much. You can’t promise that.”

“You’re not, and I fucking can,” he retorted. “You not being here for three days? Hell.” He spat the word from his mouth. “So, I know, a microscopic bit, of how it must have felt for you, not having me present for so many months, and I won’t put you through that again.”

I froze in place on our bed. Did I overreact? My anger had dissipated, and I just felt stupid. Stupid and tired.

“As for her kissing my cheek, even squeezing my shoulder, Mara, that’s not done. She was out of line, and honestly, that was out of character for her. She’s a consummate professional. My guess is that she had her guard down being out with her husband celebrating her promotion and she acted impulsively.”

I tried to read his face, unsure of what he was feeling, unsure if he was telling me the truth .

“I hate her,” I whispered, my eyes wide at my confession, apprehensive about how he’d react to such a strong statement.

He nodded. “That’s fine. She’s not important. Come to bed, Mara.” He opened his arm. “Don’t fight me any longer. I need you. Please come to bed.”

I didn’t meet his eyes, confused, tentatively hopeful, feeling foolish, feeling far too many things. Always so many feelings. Too many to deal with tonight.

Thank you, God, he wasn’t angry with me.

I sighed, giving up trying to make sense of it all. I wasn’t going to figure it all out any time soon. I crawled across to him and laid my head on his chest, where I longed to be, careful to keep the rest of my body angled far away from his. He stretched his arm along my back, his hand finding my hip. He dropped a kiss on my head.

“Thank you, baby.”

“For what?” I muttered.

“A second chance.”

The next morning, I looked through my journal while drinking my morning coffee. I found the page where I’d taken note of what I liked, where I’d started working out my sense of self, and reviewed the list. The beach, of course, sex, reading, crafting, writing, gardening, and art. I was enjoying art more and more, particularly with my work, I found the stories becoming simpler and the illustrations taking precedence, and I wasn’t even the illustrator.

I’d been thinking I’d like to try my hand at a story for tweens, a graphic novel, or my all-time dream, a full-length novel for adults. I’d always wanted to do that. I wrote it down. Putting pen to paper gave the goal a certain gravity.

Erin and I talked a lot about having goals, having direction, something positive to focus on. I added cooking to the list of likes, and more importantly, cooking for my loved ones.

I was like one of Olivia’s puzzles that she flipped picture side down, all the pieces were there, but the picture was concealed, and with every piece I turned right side up, a little bit more of me was revealed.

Tuesday we had therapy, played games with Olivia, went out for dinner this time instead of lunch, and puttered in the garden in the evening before bed. The warmth and light of the sun helped both Olivia’s and my moods. Sleep came easier. Tuesday night revealed a new song added to the playlist, my head on his pec, his hand on mine over his heart, my body aligned with his, breathing in his scent until I fell asleep.

Wednesday morning, he was lying perfectly still in bed beside me when I woke up with my breasts pressed against his side, my arm over his abdomen and my hand splayed over his heart, my fingers lightly flexing into the hard muscle of his chest. I had thrown my thigh high across his, and I was rocking my core against his thigh in my sleep, humming as I rubbed my face over the bristly hair on his big chest.

I came awake completely and froze, hoping he was still asleep, but knowing full well that he wasn’t. He was too still. That, and his hand clamped down hard on my hip.

My thoughts pinballed in my head. I slowly shifted a few inches away.

His voice, deep and husky with sleep, questioned, “You sure you don’t want to finish what you started?”

It took a moment before I could make myself shake my head.

He chuckled, squeezed my hip. “You know I can’t wait, right?”

He rolled, pressing us together, face-to-face. I felt his morning erection on my stomach and my legs parted of their own accord until I clamped them shut. He rocked against me, just once, and I couldn’t stop my back from arching, aching to get closer to him. A tiny moan betrayed me, and he chuckled again.

“I’ll tell you one thing, whenever it happens, it’s going to be fast, hopefully for both of us.”

“Me first.” I squeaked.

He laughed aloud, squeezed me hard. “Yes, baby, always take care of you first. ”

A full body tremor shook me, and I peeked up at him from under my lashes. So beautiful. Morning stubble, dark eyes, darker still with desire, beautiful lips smiling, I dropped my forehead onto his chest, trapped between fear and desire.

“Mommy?”

Olivia’s voice came from down the hallway.

“There,” he murmured, dragging his palm down my back. “The decision has been made for you. You’re free for now.” He hugged me tightly and then released me just as Olivia made it to our door.

I turned. “Good morning, little bird.”

“Good. You’re still here. I’m going to get breakfast now.”

She left as quickly as she came.

I broke the silence. “Ouch.”

He harrumphed. “Yes, ouch, but honestly? She needs to depend on you a bit less. Hopefully, she’ll see that you weren’t here for a few days, and she survived.”

“I guess so.”

“She did better than I did.” He grabbed me back, then rolled on top of me. “If you want to feel sorry for someone, feel sorry for me.”

The spark was lit. I opened my legs, tilting my pelvis up to receive him and he dropped between my thighs with a groan, immediately rocking against the heat at my core, once, twice .

“Fuck, baby, we need to stop.”

His arms shook as he lifted himself off me. “I hope to God you’re still in this mood come bedtime.”

He stood up from the bed, adjusting himself while looking down at me, his expression dark and dangerous. “Don’t you dare get yourself off,” he warned. “You wait for me.”

I flushed a deep red. He looked at me pointedly until I nodded, and he was satisfied.

Longest. Day. Ever.

As it came closer to the time for Olivia to go to bed, my nerves began to fray. I had been jittery and on edge all day, unable to tear my thoughts away from what I hoped would happen that night, but he seemed just as sedate and unflappable as always. I wondered if he felt anything even close to what I was feeling under his composed exterior. The craving for him was intense. I felt empty and needed him to fill me. So much for thinking I could ever not need him.

I had the sudden realization that even the anticipation was entirely intolerable. The chance that it may not happen, the uncertainty itself, distressed me. The ability to detach, just a little, and take note of the distress I suffered when I didn’t know if we would have sex, made my anger when it didn’t happen so much more understandable .

I made a mental note to talk to Erin about that at our next appointment, or maybe I’d wait until Zale went back to work. I didn’t really want to talk about this in front of him.

I realized I was using one of the first skills I’d learned, it had an acronym, REST or STOP, I couldn’t remember, but it basically meant to step back, evaluate the situation to see what’s causing my distress, then proceed mindfully, using a distress coping tool to move through it. This new ability I had gained allowed me to understand that my wanting sex was a trigger for me. It was the uncertainty combined with the need; a need I wasn’t sure he would meet.

I’d managed to notice the distress and determine what was causing it. Now, I needed a plan to deal with it. Radical Acceptance? Self-Soothing? Distraction? Distraction worked at times, which was why I was often still reading at one o’clock in the morning. Radical Acceptance, what would that look like in this case? I grabbed my journal and started to work it out.

Zale’s sex drive is not as strong as mine, there will be times when I want sex and he doesn’t.

I feel rejected when I want sex and Zale doesn’t. I feel ugly and unwanted, and I am angry that he won’t show his love for me in this way I want him to .

That didn’t seem quite right. I tried again.

There will be times when I’m frustrated because I want sex and Zale doesn’t.

I am responsible for my own sexual health.

I laughed. I’ll tell him I’ve had that revelation and that he can’t tell me not to get myself off. I wondered what he’d think of that.

“What are you laughing about?” His eyes crinkled and his mouth was soft.

I snapped my journal closed, his eyebrows rose, and his mouth quirked up on one side.

“Ah, kind of makes me want to know more now.”

“I’ll tell you one day, maybe even soon.” I smiled to let him know it wasn’t a bad thing.

“You have a sneaky look on your face.” He smiled, so handsome. “I have a feeling whatever it is, it means trouble for me.”

I laughed. “Nothing you can’t handle.”

“Well, while you’ve been sitting here making your nefarious plans, I’ve gotten Olivia ready for bed. You need to go tuck her in. ”

He reached out his hand and tucked my hair behind my ear. We had a good day. I smiled up at him, his chocolate eyes all melty on me.

“Come to bed, gorgeous. I’ve got nefarious plans for you, too.”

My smile widened and I ducked my head. He caught my chin and tilted my head back, his eyes wandering over my face.

“Don’t hide, baby, don’t hide your pleasure from me.”

My cheeks got hot, and I watched as he took that in, his pupils dilating.

“Come to bed, Mara.” I took his offered hand and rose from my seat. He pulled me into him and kissed me on my forehead, pressed his nose against my hair. “I love you, Mara.”

“I love you, too, Zee.” I leaned into him.

This man was my lifeline most days. If I were ever to completely lose my faith in him, I’d be utterly lost. I wished I could let him go. I knew this was an aspiration I could not hope to meet, yet I was not prepared to live with the guilt of staying. It was a conundrum.

He stood up and headed to our bedroom, I tucked my journal away and went to tuck Olivia into her bed. ‘

We’d had busy days out and about with Zale, she would fall asleep quickly.

I stood in the hallway outside Olivia’s door. I needed to go to bed, but I didn’t know how to act. So many feelings, excited, nervous, suspicious, most of all, I felt embarrassed and unworthy, albeit an embarrassed and unworthy writhing mass of lust. I gave myself a mental shake, it’s not like I could stand out here in the hallway all night.

I walked into our bedroom and glanced at him. He had his eyes to his cell and greeted me with a casual, “Hey, baby.”

I released the breath I didn’t know I was holding, wondering how it was that attention, the exact thing I craved and demanded, when given, caused me to berate myself for my unworthiness? I pulled a nightie from the drawer and escaped to the bathroom to get ready for bed. When I came out, the lights were already out, and he lay curled on his side in the bed. My shoulders slumped, in both relief and disappointment.

I slid in beside him, and he immediately reached for me, aligning my body facing his. I startled.

“You didn’t think I would sleep after this morning, did you?”

“I didn’t know…”

His hands wandered, one sliding under my ribs angling up and cradling the back of my head while he lightly brushed his lips over mine, the other stroking up and down my back, pulling my nightie up by infinitesimal degrees with every pass. My stomach clenched into a ball and my heart beat erratically in my chest.

“Relax, gorgeous. We’ll go slow.”

“You want me? ”

He rocked against me, letting me feel his erection against my belly. “Like you wouldn’t believe.”

I persisted, “But me? Not just wanting sex but wanting sex with me?”

He stopped, stunned to hear her give voice to his own anxiety. He gave her honesty.

“Mara, there is no other sex for me than sex with you. Wanting sex is wanting you. They are one and the same.”

I relaxed into his hold, and he feathered his lips across my cheeks, my eyes, and finally pressed his mouth gently against mine. He held the kiss, unmoving, and we breathed each other in. With my exhale he parted my lips with his tongue, and I let him in.

Bliss.

Connection.

His sweet mouth merged with mine, giving me his tongue, stroking, nibbling, sucking, distracting me from the ever-present nightmare of my thoughts. My nightie was at my waist, and he continued with his slow, sweet assault, caressing my back, my side, my hip, his fingers dipping lower and lower into my panties as I wrestled with my thoughts.

“You are wearing far too many clothes,” he murmured, palming my ass .

He dragged my panties down, pulling them over my thighs and then shifted up to whip them off at my feet. The intimacy of that never lost its power to thrill me. Sitting beside me he tugged my hand to pull me upright and grasped my nightie by the hem, lifting it gently over my head.

I was grateful for the darkness, already nervous enough without worrying about how I looked. He rose to his knees, bringing me along with him. He braced his knees wide and slipped his erection through the juncture at my thighs, the wet there ready to ease his way. Chest to chest, his hands caressed me from the crease at the top of my thighs to my upper back and back down, all the while thrusting into the wet at the top of my thighs, dragging the head of his cock across my clit.

I clung to his shoulders, hearing the rush of blood in my ears. The shaking of my legs signaled to him how close my release hovered and he pulled away.

“Nooo,” I gasped, “don’t do that!”

“Don’t want it to go too fast,” he soothed. “I’ve missed you.”

He pulled me by my hand, positioned me sitting at the edge of the bed, and dropped to his knees on the floor between my legs.

“I want to taste you.”

I dropped back to my elbows on the bed. I loved this. If I had to choose between his mouth and his cock for the rest of my life, it would be his cock, but it would be a tough sell .

He pinched the flesh of my inner thighs, then kissed where he’d pinched, making his way closer to where I needed him. He ignored my clit and suckled the puffy lips.

I spread my legs wider, the pleasure making me forget, making me wanton. He pulled the tender flesh into his mouth. I moaned, reached to touch his hair, the feel of him there, his beautiful mouth latched onto my pussy, delighted my mind. He pulled back an inch, then licked me hard and slow from my opening to my clit where he closed his lips around it, sucked lightly, and I flew. Body arching off the bed, his name on my lips, my hands in his hair, holding him to me in that moment where I lost my mind; lost my mind and found my peace.

Before I fully came back down he was on me. Shifting me up the bed, my taste on his lips, his hand pressing my thigh high and wide, driving into me, his tongue keeping time with his hips.

I could feel his desperation, sense his worship, absorb his pain. I devoured his mouth as he powered up, rocking inside me harder and harder until he began to lose his rhythm and stuttered to a stop, groaning down my throat. Two more sharp thrusts, he broke our kiss, tucked his face into my throat, his fingers digging hard into my flesh holding me where he wanted me, and spilled himself inside me.

Oh, God, this man.

Mine .

He kissed me softly and my lips clung to his. I didn’t want him to pull away from me yet. I didn’t want the freedom to end.

“Mara, lie on top of me baby. I don’t want to crush you.”

I lost him inside me when he rolled to his back, but his hands didn’t stop moving over me, his long arm swept me up to lie across his chest and he clamped his hand around my hip. His claiming place.

“You with me still?”

I stiffened. “What do you mean?”

“Don’t retreat into your head. Stay here with me.”

He kissed my forehead and I relaxed against him.

“That’s it, my baby,” he ran his hands over me. “Don’t leave me just yet. I missed you so damn much. I love you more than life. You have to know that.”

I curled my arms around his shoulders and hugged him close to me.

“Do you know that?”

“Sometimes.”

“Do you know it right now?”

“Yes,” I sighed. I did, in that moment nothing could be clearer. “I do. I could cry, it's so sweet.”

“It’s always there. Just because you can’t see it or feel it all the time, doesn’t mean it’s not there. ”

“It’s not fun in my brain, Zee.”

“I know, gorgeous.” He paused. “Actually, I don’t know. I don’t experience life the way you do. You’ll need to be patient with me, teach me how you see things, let me in so I can correct your assumptions about me. Can you do that?”

We’d been talking about that in therapy, my misconceptions and perceptions being different from his.

“I can do that.”

He squeezed me. “Good. Now, let’s go to the bathroom and wash up for sleep.”

I went to move away when he pulled me back, tipping my chin back to look at me. “Thank you.”

“What for?”

“Letting me love you.”

I gave him a sad half smile. “Your love is all I’ve ever wanted.”

“You have it. Start to believe.” He slapped my ass, hard! “C’mon, you’re a sweaty, cummy mess, and so am I.”

I laughed and headed, with him, to the bathroom.

When we climbed back into bed he rolled away from me, pulling my arm across his abdomen to keep me close, tucked in tight against his warm back, where I quickly fell into sleep .

Zale

He lay awake, the feel of her breasts rising and falling with each even breath against his back. He’d started paying attention, and what he saw made his heart bleed. The meetings with Erin were eye-opening, she understood the language Mara’s brain spoke, and she was an excellent interpreter.

He would lean on Rhys more. As much as it killed him, he would do it for Mara, for Mara and him, for Mara, him, and Olivia. He’d talk to anybody in order to learn the language her heart and mind could understand.

He stroked her arm that he’d wound around his own waist, feeling her at his back, where she’d always been, figuratively and literally. He’d take hers now too.

He took the first deep breath he’d taken since she went to the hospital and slipped into sleep.