Page 58 of Light in the Dark
"I just mean I need you to believe me. Ilovedevery second of what we just shared, Fee. I said I'm confused and conflicted—and I am. But not because of you, or because I still have hangups about sex. I don't. My hangups are emotional—it’s about grief, not that.”
"I believe you," I say.
"Now, back then, when I first got together with Dutchie? Yeah, that's a different story. For two, almost three years after we started, having sex was sorta like walking through a minefield. Poor Dutchie—I don't know how many times we had to stop because something he did triggered something. Never a complaint. Just love and patience and understanding. But I was sick of it. I was sick of having sex ruined. So I set about trying to move past it. Oral sex was the hardest. Dutchie would have been fine had I decided to just not do it, but I didn't like that. I refused to let that shithead take anything from me, from Dutchie, or from us."
"Brave girl," I murmur.
She smiles in acknowledgment of my words. "It took a long time. Months of…practice.”
I grin. "Poor Dutchie, having to endure all that practice."
"You jest, I know, but at first it was…rough. I'd get triggered and be crying and have to stop and he'd be left halfway to orgasm with a sobbing wife. He kept asking me to stop trying, but I can be stubborn. He enjoyed it—I could tell how much he liked it when I did it for him…before I got triggered. And I was determined to stop being triggered by it. And…I won."
"Clearly,” I say.
"The fun part for Dutchie was when I was finally able to perform the whole act without being triggered, because that's when I started to practice different techniques on him. I'd pay attention to how he reacted when I did different things." She closes her eyes, smiling at the sky as she remembers, taking a long, leisurely hit of the joint. "That was a very, very fun period for us. When I was past all my sexual dysfunction and could just enjoy everything. We hadsomuch sex, Fee. Dutchie must've gotten a blowjob every day for a fucking month, sometimes more, just because I wanted to prove to myself that I could. And also because it made me so fucking hot watching him when I did it for him."
I grab her hand and squeeze. "His love and patience were amply rewarded, I'd say."
She laughs, nodding. "Yes, I like to think so." The humor fades almost instantly. "This brings me to the reason for my emotional conflict."
“Okay."
"I fucking…" a sigh. "I don't even know where to start." She rubs her face, the joint now a roach pinched between her finger and thumb, trailing a thin plume of smoke with every gesture. "What we just did, Fee, it was…sofucking hot."
"It was, no lie, the hottest thing I’ve ever experienced,” I say. "I mean it."
"For me, too." I can barely hear her. "That's the conflict."
"Ember," I murmur. "I—"
A shake of her head. "No, I'm being honest. What I shared with Dutchie was…it was what I needed. He healed me. Took care of me. Showed me love. Taught me how to trust again. He was my home, every bit as much if not more than the bus. I loved our sex life together. I craved him all the time." A pause. "But…"
"But?"
"This is so hard to put into words, Fee."
"So don't."
"I have to." She puts the roach out and drops it into the tube. "Sometimes, I felt like I…like I wanted…more. I don't know how else to put it. I wanted…god, how to say it? Dutchie was good and sweet and gentle down to his fucking atoms. I'm not. I was raised mostly without rules. I lived among adults. I did what I wanted, said what I wanted, and answered to no one. Mom was more of a friend than a mother, especially once I was out of the young child phase. After nine or so, I was considered able to take care of myself, and I did. Mom provided for me. We had food. I had clothes. She maintained the bus. Drove us. Made sure I knew who was safe to be around and who wasn't. But I’m a wild child, Fee. And Dutchie was…"
"Too good? Too sweet?"
She nods. "Sometimes, yes." Her eyes squeeze shut, and tears trickle down. "It feels like a betrayal to say that. I loved him. I fucking loved him so much. But sometimes, I wanted more. I wanted him to…" She bares her teeth and shakes her head and growls like a she-wolf. "Fuck! I wanted him to be rough with me sometimes. To take the stigma off of that for me. That was the last piece, and he just couldn't go there."
"That's a big ask, Ember. For a naturally sweet kid who knew what you went through? Or suspected, I have to imagine, despite what you may not have told him."
"I know!" she says. "I stopped asking. I knew he couldn't. It just wasn't him. Never would be." She looks at me. "Deep down, I've always wanted to be…to have a partner who could go there with me. Lose control totally, but safely and respectfully. I…I always felt like there was more that I wanted, I just didn’t know how to say it. My sex drive was…maybe too much for Dutchie. I wanted things he wasn't comfortable with. And I wasn't about to pressure him into anything, obviously, so I let it go. Put those desires in a box and forgot about them."
"And then Dutchie passed away."
She nods. "And then Dutchie passed away. I shut down. Couldn't cry. I was a ghost. A zombie. For months. Till I met you." She looks at me, her gaze intense, emotional, tearful. "I don't know what it is about you. I mean, I guess I do. You're hot as fuck. My attraction to you is just…fuckingwild, Fee. It's on a molecular level. But that doesn’t totally explain it. I trust you implicitly. Even though I don't know you. Or barely. It took meyearsto fully trust Dutchie with my body, and yet I trust you that way within…what, days? Hours? Why? I don't fucking get it. And not only that, I'm fucking hot for you. I dreamed about you. After we first met, before we ran into each other again, I couldn't stop thinking about you. Having dirty dreams about you that I'd wake up from and have to masturbate."
My cheeks burn. "Jesus, Ember."
“That embarrasses you?" she asks, grinning despite the watery gleam of unshed tears.
"I dunno how to respond." I roll my shoulders, not quite able to look at her.
