Page 60 of The Second Chance Bus Stop
‘Bakeries are good. They make breakfast.’
‘They do.’
We somehow make the steps between the pavement and the RV cabin. I switch on the lights and then I’m back in his arms again as if nothing happened.
‘Close your eyes,’ he instructs again.
I do.
But my mind can’t quiet. My eyelids must have fluttered with doubt.
‘No. Don’t open them. Not yet.’
I don’t.
‘You could have this all the time, Sophia. Think about it.’
‘It’s not possible.’
‘Is this not enough?’ Blade presses into me now, with his whole body, hips against mine. As If trying to make a point.
Enough? This would be more than I’ve ever had, more than I could ever have imagined for myself. Even just being touched once the way he touched me would be enough. My fear is that it’s not enough forhim.
There’s another kiss on my temple. When his lips reach my eyelids they are featherlight and I feel like I’m about to cry.
Then it all stops. Because I’m actually weeping. Still with eyes closed I stand there, in a camper-van, my arms pulled tight around me, and I weep.
‘Open your eyes. Please.’
I do then. I see houses and a sky that’s dark grey through the windows and Blade’s eyes looking back at me. My tears don’t make him uncomfortable. Men hate tears. They tell you it’s silly and that it’s a manipulative technique. Then they raise their voices and shout because they can’t stand them and will stop at nothing to quiet the noise that is female sadness. But not Blade. He rocks back and forth then scoops all of me up into his lap, and I can’t remember the last time I’ve been held like this, probably sometime in childhood before I shot up on the weight-and-height curve and my outstretched arms were met by my parents with aYou’ll break my back, Sophia. Use your two good legs.
‘Let’s get you to bed,’ he says and I let him walk me there. He swiftly gets the bed down and folds the duvet to the side. I sit down on the side of it, too tired to move. I’d like to blame it on two rare alcoholic beverages, but it could very possibly be the way this man seems to tug at my emotions like no one else. I would be terrified if it weren’t for the fact that everything has felt lighter, more manageable and less my fault since we started this journey. That’s not something a cocktail can do.
‘I can’t take my shoes off,’ I say. He bends down and undoes my sandals, fiddling with the small leather straps and metal clasp.
‘Here. Get in.’
‘I can’t,’ I mumble.
He looks at me confused.
‘I have to take this off. I need to sleep naked.’ He looks at me then down to the now strapless green dress when he realises what I’m asking him.
‘Sophia, I’ll undress you. Then tuck you into bed—which is all I’m going to be doing tonight—but how do you think I’ll get a wink of sleep?’ He laughs softly, a sweet sound.
‘I promise I will turn off the opportunity clock tomorrow morning. One night only.’
He pulls back and looks down at me on the bed. He slowly reaches for the top of my dress and pulls it down so gently the sensation is like being stroked. By satin. I shiver. When the fabric reaches my hips, he looks me in the eyes for the first time.
‘Stand up.’ I do what I’m told, and the dress slips off my hips and onto the floor in a messy pile. My underwear is simple cotton briefs and a bandeau top.
‘Now get into bed.’
I lie down on my side and pull the duvet all the way up to my chin, just how I like it, even in summer.
‘Good night, Sophia,’ he says before walking off. I hear the clink of a water glass being put down on the shelf next to my bed. In case I wake up thirsty.
An Almost-Retired Storage Facility Manager
