Sex Love Repeat
Page 17
He shakes his head. “It doesn’t matter. The point wasn’t for her to see me. I’m just glad I saw it.” He lets out a breath of air. “God, when her eyes opened... when I heard her voice... it was like a weight off my shoulders. I’ve never been so scared, Dana. I mean, with Jennifer, there was never an unknown period. We were just told what happened. And had to deal with it in any way we could. With Madison... the unknown, the waiting...” he turns his head, looking at me. “I was terrified.”
I look into his eyes. Eyes that have matured so much in the last few years. He sits like the weight of the world rests on his shoulders. And in his eyes... I see disappointment, an emotion that I don’t understand. “You should go in there. She might wake back up.”
His eyes darken. “No. I want Paul... God, I don’t know.” He looks down, leans forward in his chair and rests his forearms on his knees. “I don’t think...” he says carefully, every word measured, “that I deserve her.”
“In what way?”
He runs his fingers over his mouth. “I don’t think I can do it, D.” He looks back at me. “I wouldn’t tell another soul but you this. The work—the job—I don’t know that I can walk from it. Cut back my hours to a level that she would expect. Deserve.” He snorts, disgust in his eyes. “Fuck, I can’t even sit in a hospital room while she struggles for life and not think about it.” He looks away. “Paul... he doesn’t struggle with that. He—in there—all he’s thinking about is her. All that he loves in life is her.” His shoulders sink. “Do I have the right to take that from him? Only to fail her later?”
He runs a hand through his hair, gripping it before dropping his head into his hands. “But where does that leave me? A life alone? With nothing but my work? She—she is the only thing I have other than that.”
I reach out a hand and grab his knee, squeezing it hard until he looks at me, a haunted look in his eyes. “Stewart—I know that you love her. But you will meet someone who you will happily set aside work for. You won’t have to try and cut back your hours. You won’t be able to stay away from them. That is when you’ll know that you have found the person you are meant to be with. When your life is no longer your own, and you are shoving that sacrifice forward willingly.”
He holds my gaze for a long moment before glancing towards the ICU doors. “So what, you think that is how Paul feels? You think she ‘is it’ for him?”
I follow his glance, flipping back through everything I have seen today. “I don’t know.” I say carefully. “I think you and I both still see Paul as he once was—emotional and tender-hearted. But he is ten years older now. I do know that he is not the boy we once knew. And the only thing on his mind in there is her. He... he’s not like anything I would expect. It terrifies me how singularly focused he is on her. It’s as if he thinks he can will and love her back to health.”
He groans. “God, you make me feel like shit, D.”
I lean against his shoulder, looping my arm through his. “You’re sacrificing a piece of your life for him. This is the proudest I’ve ever been of you.” I turn my head, my peripheral vision seeing the edge of his lips curl slightly.
“I haven’t made a decision, Dana.”
“Yes you have,” I say firmly. “Now go outside and make your calls. I’ll tell Paul.” I stand, brushing off my pants and reach for my purse, his hands stopping me, the insistent press of them causing me to pause.
“I love her.” The raw need in his eyes gives me pause, a spike of pain hitting my heart.
“I know,” I say softly. “But you love him, too. And you know that I’m right.”
His jaw tightens.
MADISON
Kisses. Soft kisses on my cheeks, nose, moving down my neck. I shift slightly, bending my head to the face in my neck, slowly opening my eyes to—thank God—a softly lit room. The kisses find their way to my lips and I smile, recognizing the scruff, the soft way he cradles my head. “Hey baby.”
“Hey.” He kisses my forehead. “How do you feel?”
“Okay.” My head aches. “What time is it?”
“Almost ten. In about ten minutes their most intimidating nurse is going to come in and try and kick me out. Just in case she succeeds I wanted to say hi.”
“Hi,” I say weakly, and Paul smiles.
“What happened?” I glance around the room, realizing that my neck now moves, that I can turn my head with ease. Ouch. After that blinding slice of pain, maybe I should take it easy.
“You wiped out. The board must have hit you on the head.”
“I’m in the hospital for that?”
His face tightens. “You were without oxygen for a while. And with head trauma... for a while we didn’t think you’d make it.”
“We?”
His eyes hold mine. “The doctors... and also Stewart. He was here.”
My heart sinks in my chest. “Here?” With you? The unspoken words scream through my mind.
“Yeah.” He clears his throat. “But don’t worry about that now. You need to rest.”
“He’s not here now.”
“No. He left a few hours ago. Once your condition stabilized.”
“And how long will you stay?”
He watches my eyes carefully. “Until they drag me away.”
I smile, my eyes closing as another burst of pain lights every receptor in my brain. “My head hurts,” I mumble.
I hear him stand, his hand brushing my hair back, placing a soft kiss on my forehead. “I’ll get the nurse,” he whispers.
I keep my eyes closed and wait for the pain to ease, my racing thoughts interfering with the process. Stewart was here. With Paul. In the same room. Speaking. Interacting. I am almost grateful for my unconscious state. I cannot imagine the words spoken, the conversations had. I would wonder at his absence—wonder what that means to our relationship, but it is Stewart. His work, no doubt, needed attention. I am surprised he stayed until I gained consciousness. I wonder what will happen with my relationships. This is surely the moment. I always thought that when this happened, I would have to choose. Which of my men I love the most. But now, with hours of unknown events, chances are that that choice has been taken from me. And in that light, Stewart’s absence seems more notable.
I hear the door and reopen my eyes, watch as a nurse scurries in, pressing buttons and making adjustments. “You’re awake!” she says with a beam. She lifts a remote, presses it into my palm. “This is painkiller. Just press this button if the discomfort gets too strong. I’m adding a bit into your IV, so I wouldn’t be surprised if you fall back asleep pretty soon.”
I nod, and place the remote on my stomach, my eyes finding Paul’s. He gives me a worried smile and turns to the nurse. “How do her vitals look?”
“Good. We’re not out of danger yet but we are moving in the right direction. We’ll monitor her closely tonight.” She pats my arm and I attempt a smile, the pain already less, my mind taking advantage of the increased capacity and envisioning all of the disasters that could have occurred during my sleep.
“How long was I out?” It hurts to talk, my throat raw, my lungs moaning over the expelled air.
She glances at her watch. “About twelve hours. This is the first time you’ve been coherent enough to talk.” That’s a good sign.”
Twelve hours. Cities burn to the ground in less time than that. I wait for her to leave and watch Paul sit carefully on the edge of my bed. When the door clicks behind her I wet my lips.
“What happened? With Stewart?” I fight the question, hating the words as they leave my mouth. But I need to know. I need to know what tomorrow will bring. Sleep will come soon enough and wash over the reality.
“He had work to do.” He glances at my face. “He’ll be back tomorrow.”
I can see his pain through his eyes and it strikes me suddenly that I’ve never seen him this way. Worried. He reaches for my hand and squeezes it. I have never felt more helpless. I want to hold him, to push that darkness from his eyes. I want to go to Stewart, to make him look me in my eyes and to ask him what he is thinking, where his mind is taking him. But I would probably be disappointed in the answer. His mind has probably already left this problem and is attacking ones that are in his control. In the office, on the phone, on his computer at home. I lean back and close my eyes.
I wake once to voices, arguing softly, and open my eyes enough to see a nurse, speaking heatedly to Paul. The second time I awaken, the room is dark. I turn my head and see Paul, in a chair, his head to the side. I let my eyes adjust to the room, the pain present enough for me to reach for the remote, press the button on its front.
I am grateful for the silence. For the ability to think without being observed.
I have lived in this fairytale for so long, it is hard to imagine an alternative. But this feels like the time. The time to pick a path, abandon the other and move forward. I look at the man asleep next to me, the room’s shadows highlighting the strong features, his large frame uncomfortably sprawled over the hospital’s narrow recliner. It is no surprise that he is here, that he won the battle against the nurse and sleeps beside me. Paul has always been here for me. He is my rock and loves me unconditionally, no matter what kind of crazy quasi-relationship we have had for the last two years.
I glance up, at the ceiling, letting out a painful breath and thinking of Stewart. Also, not a surprise that he is absent. Our entire relationship has been squeezed in between stretches of absence. His passion for work is one of the things I love about him, but it has always been a competing piece—the fourth person in this triangle. And I’ve always known where I stood in that order—behind that passion, peering over its shoulder and waving my hands for attention.
At this point, this juncture, the decision should be easy. Paul is right here, just waiting for a shot at my entire heart. He has been waiting for it ever since that day under the pier. I was just too distracted by Stewart, emotionally tied to him, to see Paul in the role he should have been in.
I reach out for him, then clear my throat, coughing slightly, and Paul instantly moves, waking, his hand swinging out and hitting a lamp. He shoots to his feet and stands, still, his body tense, listening in the darkness. I softly say his name and he steps forward, gently reaching out until his hands find my body. “Are you okay Madd? Do you need the nurse?”
“I’m fine.” I whisper. “I just... Paul—I just wanted to say that I love you.”
He stills, his breath stopping in the quiet room. “I love you, too, baby.” He says gruffly, kneeling beside my bed and holding my hand. “God, I love you so much.”
“Forever and always,” I whisper.
He surprises me by crawling into the bed, the narrow width barely accommodating us both. He moves cords and lines with heartbreaking tenderness, turning me on my side and wrapping his arm around me. I relax, my lids heavy. At this moment in time, there is not a more perfect place I could imagine. Not another man on Earth who I want holding me.
“Forever and always.” Paul whispers.
And, in that brief moment, I feel guilt over Stewart and my heart’s abandonment of him. Then, pure happiness washes over me and Stewart is forgotten.
DANA
I wake two hours early, rolling out of bed with a purpose. It is the first day in almost a decade that I have my boys back. Thanks, in no small part, to Madison. The same Madison who I, in a brief moment of creativity, dart-boarded last week after too many margaritas. But that was before. Before she almost died, and Stewart called me, and I got to hug Paul and look into both of their eyes. Before I found out that she wasn’t ruining their hearts through a shredder for her personal enjoyment. I almost, just a teeny bit, feel some affection for the woman.
I dress for work, pulling on a Jones New York suit and sling-backs, pull my hair into a low bun and leave my contacts in their case, sticking with glasses and minimal makeup, and jog out the door at 5:45 AM, two bananas and an apple in my purse, a giant mug of coffee in my hand.
Sixteen minutes later, I step through the hospital doors, and smile brightly at the receptionist. Three minutes later, I am escorted to her room.
“She will still be asleep,” the silver-haired woman explained in a hushed voice that was practically screaming. “But you can sit in there until she wakes up. Her notes say she was coherent and speaking late last night.”
Late last night. After Stewart left, his phone already to his ear. She must have woken after I left at nine. Hopefully Paul was here. By the look on his face, he had had no intentions of going anywhere. I gently press on the door and tiptoe inside.
My heart physically swoons when I see them. A tall frame hugging her small body, crammed in a narrow space that should be uncomfortable but looks perfect. His head nestled in her hair, his arm across her body. Her eyes closed, a small smile on her face, her feet tucked back between his legs. I hesitate in the doorway, then step backward, pulling the door gently closed.
I make my way back to the receptionist area and veer right, following the path to the cafeteria, pulling my cell from my pocket as I walk. I dial Stewart’s cell.
“Hey.”
“Hey. I’m at the hospital. Just wanted to check and see if you were coming by.”
He sighs, heavy into the phone. “I can’t now. I have...” there is the rustle of papers and I hear him speaking to someone else. Then he is back. “Is she stable?”
“Yes.” I can’t stop the smile from entering my voice. “She was speaking last night. Coherent. They haven’t woken her yet this morning.”
I look into his eyes. Eyes that have matured so much in the last few years. He sits like the weight of the world rests on his shoulders. And in his eyes... I see disappointment, an emotion that I don’t understand. “You should go in there. She might wake back up.”
His eyes darken. “No. I want Paul... God, I don’t know.” He looks down, leans forward in his chair and rests his forearms on his knees. “I don’t think...” he says carefully, every word measured, “that I deserve her.”
“In what way?”
He runs his fingers over his mouth. “I don’t think I can do it, D.” He looks back at me. “I wouldn’t tell another soul but you this. The work—the job—I don’t know that I can walk from it. Cut back my hours to a level that she would expect. Deserve.” He snorts, disgust in his eyes. “Fuck, I can’t even sit in a hospital room while she struggles for life and not think about it.” He looks away. “Paul... he doesn’t struggle with that. He—in there—all he’s thinking about is her. All that he loves in life is her.” His shoulders sink. “Do I have the right to take that from him? Only to fail her later?”
He runs a hand through his hair, gripping it before dropping his head into his hands. “But where does that leave me? A life alone? With nothing but my work? She—she is the only thing I have other than that.”
I reach out a hand and grab his knee, squeezing it hard until he looks at me, a haunted look in his eyes. “Stewart—I know that you love her. But you will meet someone who you will happily set aside work for. You won’t have to try and cut back your hours. You won’t be able to stay away from them. That is when you’ll know that you have found the person you are meant to be with. When your life is no longer your own, and you are shoving that sacrifice forward willingly.”
He holds my gaze for a long moment before glancing towards the ICU doors. “So what, you think that is how Paul feels? You think she ‘is it’ for him?”
I follow his glance, flipping back through everything I have seen today. “I don’t know.” I say carefully. “I think you and I both still see Paul as he once was—emotional and tender-hearted. But he is ten years older now. I do know that he is not the boy we once knew. And the only thing on his mind in there is her. He... he’s not like anything I would expect. It terrifies me how singularly focused he is on her. It’s as if he thinks he can will and love her back to health.”
He groans. “God, you make me feel like shit, D.”
I lean against his shoulder, looping my arm through his. “You’re sacrificing a piece of your life for him. This is the proudest I’ve ever been of you.” I turn my head, my peripheral vision seeing the edge of his lips curl slightly.
“I haven’t made a decision, Dana.”
“Yes you have,” I say firmly. “Now go outside and make your calls. I’ll tell Paul.” I stand, brushing off my pants and reach for my purse, his hands stopping me, the insistent press of them causing me to pause.
“I love her.” The raw need in his eyes gives me pause, a spike of pain hitting my heart.
“I know,” I say softly. “But you love him, too. And you know that I’m right.”
His jaw tightens.
MADISON
Kisses. Soft kisses on my cheeks, nose, moving down my neck. I shift slightly, bending my head to the face in my neck, slowly opening my eyes to—thank God—a softly lit room. The kisses find their way to my lips and I smile, recognizing the scruff, the soft way he cradles my head. “Hey baby.”
“Hey.” He kisses my forehead. “How do you feel?”
“Okay.” My head aches. “What time is it?”
“Almost ten. In about ten minutes their most intimidating nurse is going to come in and try and kick me out. Just in case she succeeds I wanted to say hi.”
“Hi,” I say weakly, and Paul smiles.
“What happened?” I glance around the room, realizing that my neck now moves, that I can turn my head with ease. Ouch. After that blinding slice of pain, maybe I should take it easy.
“You wiped out. The board must have hit you on the head.”
“I’m in the hospital for that?”
His face tightens. “You were without oxygen for a while. And with head trauma... for a while we didn’t think you’d make it.”
“We?”
His eyes hold mine. “The doctors... and also Stewart. He was here.”
My heart sinks in my chest. “Here?” With you? The unspoken words scream through my mind.
“Yeah.” He clears his throat. “But don’t worry about that now. You need to rest.”
“He’s not here now.”
“No. He left a few hours ago. Once your condition stabilized.”
“And how long will you stay?”
He watches my eyes carefully. “Until they drag me away.”
I smile, my eyes closing as another burst of pain lights every receptor in my brain. “My head hurts,” I mumble.
I hear him stand, his hand brushing my hair back, placing a soft kiss on my forehead. “I’ll get the nurse,” he whispers.
I keep my eyes closed and wait for the pain to ease, my racing thoughts interfering with the process. Stewart was here. With Paul. In the same room. Speaking. Interacting. I am almost grateful for my unconscious state. I cannot imagine the words spoken, the conversations had. I would wonder at his absence—wonder what that means to our relationship, but it is Stewart. His work, no doubt, needed attention. I am surprised he stayed until I gained consciousness. I wonder what will happen with my relationships. This is surely the moment. I always thought that when this happened, I would have to choose. Which of my men I love the most. But now, with hours of unknown events, chances are that that choice has been taken from me. And in that light, Stewart’s absence seems more notable.
I hear the door and reopen my eyes, watch as a nurse scurries in, pressing buttons and making adjustments. “You’re awake!” she says with a beam. She lifts a remote, presses it into my palm. “This is painkiller. Just press this button if the discomfort gets too strong. I’m adding a bit into your IV, so I wouldn’t be surprised if you fall back asleep pretty soon.”
I nod, and place the remote on my stomach, my eyes finding Paul’s. He gives me a worried smile and turns to the nurse. “How do her vitals look?”
“Good. We’re not out of danger yet but we are moving in the right direction. We’ll monitor her closely tonight.” She pats my arm and I attempt a smile, the pain already less, my mind taking advantage of the increased capacity and envisioning all of the disasters that could have occurred during my sleep.
“How long was I out?” It hurts to talk, my throat raw, my lungs moaning over the expelled air.
She glances at her watch. “About twelve hours. This is the first time you’ve been coherent enough to talk.” That’s a good sign.”
Twelve hours. Cities burn to the ground in less time than that. I wait for her to leave and watch Paul sit carefully on the edge of my bed. When the door clicks behind her I wet my lips.
“What happened? With Stewart?” I fight the question, hating the words as they leave my mouth. But I need to know. I need to know what tomorrow will bring. Sleep will come soon enough and wash over the reality.
“He had work to do.” He glances at my face. “He’ll be back tomorrow.”
I can see his pain through his eyes and it strikes me suddenly that I’ve never seen him this way. Worried. He reaches for my hand and squeezes it. I have never felt more helpless. I want to hold him, to push that darkness from his eyes. I want to go to Stewart, to make him look me in my eyes and to ask him what he is thinking, where his mind is taking him. But I would probably be disappointed in the answer. His mind has probably already left this problem and is attacking ones that are in his control. In the office, on the phone, on his computer at home. I lean back and close my eyes.
I wake once to voices, arguing softly, and open my eyes enough to see a nurse, speaking heatedly to Paul. The second time I awaken, the room is dark. I turn my head and see Paul, in a chair, his head to the side. I let my eyes adjust to the room, the pain present enough for me to reach for the remote, press the button on its front.
I am grateful for the silence. For the ability to think without being observed.
I have lived in this fairytale for so long, it is hard to imagine an alternative. But this feels like the time. The time to pick a path, abandon the other and move forward. I look at the man asleep next to me, the room’s shadows highlighting the strong features, his large frame uncomfortably sprawled over the hospital’s narrow recliner. It is no surprise that he is here, that he won the battle against the nurse and sleeps beside me. Paul has always been here for me. He is my rock and loves me unconditionally, no matter what kind of crazy quasi-relationship we have had for the last two years.
I glance up, at the ceiling, letting out a painful breath and thinking of Stewart. Also, not a surprise that he is absent. Our entire relationship has been squeezed in between stretches of absence. His passion for work is one of the things I love about him, but it has always been a competing piece—the fourth person in this triangle. And I’ve always known where I stood in that order—behind that passion, peering over its shoulder and waving my hands for attention.
At this point, this juncture, the decision should be easy. Paul is right here, just waiting for a shot at my entire heart. He has been waiting for it ever since that day under the pier. I was just too distracted by Stewart, emotionally tied to him, to see Paul in the role he should have been in.
I reach out for him, then clear my throat, coughing slightly, and Paul instantly moves, waking, his hand swinging out and hitting a lamp. He shoots to his feet and stands, still, his body tense, listening in the darkness. I softly say his name and he steps forward, gently reaching out until his hands find my body. “Are you okay Madd? Do you need the nurse?”
“I’m fine.” I whisper. “I just... Paul—I just wanted to say that I love you.”
He stills, his breath stopping in the quiet room. “I love you, too, baby.” He says gruffly, kneeling beside my bed and holding my hand. “God, I love you so much.”
“Forever and always,” I whisper.
He surprises me by crawling into the bed, the narrow width barely accommodating us both. He moves cords and lines with heartbreaking tenderness, turning me on my side and wrapping his arm around me. I relax, my lids heavy. At this moment in time, there is not a more perfect place I could imagine. Not another man on Earth who I want holding me.
“Forever and always.” Paul whispers.
And, in that brief moment, I feel guilt over Stewart and my heart’s abandonment of him. Then, pure happiness washes over me and Stewart is forgotten.
DANA
I wake two hours early, rolling out of bed with a purpose. It is the first day in almost a decade that I have my boys back. Thanks, in no small part, to Madison. The same Madison who I, in a brief moment of creativity, dart-boarded last week after too many margaritas. But that was before. Before she almost died, and Stewart called me, and I got to hug Paul and look into both of their eyes. Before I found out that she wasn’t ruining their hearts through a shredder for her personal enjoyment. I almost, just a teeny bit, feel some affection for the woman.
I dress for work, pulling on a Jones New York suit and sling-backs, pull my hair into a low bun and leave my contacts in their case, sticking with glasses and minimal makeup, and jog out the door at 5:45 AM, two bananas and an apple in my purse, a giant mug of coffee in my hand.
Sixteen minutes later, I step through the hospital doors, and smile brightly at the receptionist. Three minutes later, I am escorted to her room.
“She will still be asleep,” the silver-haired woman explained in a hushed voice that was practically screaming. “But you can sit in there until she wakes up. Her notes say she was coherent and speaking late last night.”
Late last night. After Stewart left, his phone already to his ear. She must have woken after I left at nine. Hopefully Paul was here. By the look on his face, he had had no intentions of going anywhere. I gently press on the door and tiptoe inside.
My heart physically swoons when I see them. A tall frame hugging her small body, crammed in a narrow space that should be uncomfortable but looks perfect. His head nestled in her hair, his arm across her body. Her eyes closed, a small smile on her face, her feet tucked back between his legs. I hesitate in the doorway, then step backward, pulling the door gently closed.
I make my way back to the receptionist area and veer right, following the path to the cafeteria, pulling my cell from my pocket as I walk. I dial Stewart’s cell.
“Hey.”
“Hey. I’m at the hospital. Just wanted to check and see if you were coming by.”
He sighs, heavy into the phone. “I can’t now. I have...” there is the rustle of papers and I hear him speaking to someone else. Then he is back. “Is she stable?”
“Yes.” I can’t stop the smile from entering my voice. “She was speaking last night. Coherent. They haven’t woken her yet this morning.”
