I kneel next to the couch. “Please look at me.”
She lifts watery eyes to me. I reach out and brush away the wetness as she blinks. When she opens her eyes again, I hold out my arms to her, wanting nothing more than to cuddle the sadness out of her.
She shakes her head. “If I do, we’ll end up back in bed. I want you too much.”
That’s both a huge relief and a jab in the solar plexus.
“Please don’t leave like this. I’m sorry I did everything wrong. I’m still trying to figure things out.”
She shakes her head and looks away.
“Baby, please. I’m sorry I hurt you. I know I held you down too hard?—”
She stands, her fists clenched at her sides. “You didn’t hurt me! I have a safe word. If you’d been hurting me, I’d have used it. You second-guess usconstantly.”
Startled by her vehemence, I stand and back up a step so I’m not looming over her. “I’m sorry.”
“Stop apologizing! Stop making me feel guilty for wanting what I want!”
“I’m—”
She pushes up into my face and shakes her finger under my nose. “Don’t. Don’t say it.”
“I—”
“I’m going,” she says, turning on her heel and walking away from me.
Miserably, I trail her to the door. She stops to put on the black sack over her little clothes and I reach around to zip it up for her.
“Thank you,” she says quietly.
“Can I give you a hug before you go? Please, Cynnie.”
She nods and turns into my arms. I can’t help but hold her tight to my chest, memorizing the way she feels, the way she smells, the silky brush of her hair against my cheek and over my forearms. Am I really letting her walk out the door? What do I say to stop her?
“Please let me know you got home safe. Just one word if that’s all you want to send me, but I need to know you’re okay.”
“I will.” Her hand lifts to cup my jaw while she presses a kiss to my other cheek. “Thank you for the last three days, Maxie. It’s been really special.”
“To me, too.”
What do I say? Please don’t go? She already nuked that. Please come back? Can I deal if she says this was a one-time thing?
In the end, I say nothing. Not even goodbye.
twelve
After I closethe door behind her, I collapse into a beanbag and relive everything I did wrong from our date to the moment she walked out on me. Then I go back further and torture myself with the memory of hurting Cynnie at playgroup. Then I go get a bottle of Jim Beam.
Cynnie sends me a text an hour later.
Cynnie: I’m home safe. Thank you again. Talk soon?
I text back, unable to think of anything profound. Unable to distill everything I’m feeling into words that won’t send her running for the Appalachians.
Yes.
I say nothing more and sink deeper and deeper into my bottle of Jim Beam.
