Not Looking for Love: Episode 3 (7 page)

"Probably not," he says after awhile. "I guess we'll never know."

I turn on my side again, so we're facing each other, but he's still not looking at me. "Are you very upset?"

His eyes flick to mine, but then he focuses them back on the window, and grins in a defeated sort of way. "This isn't even the first time for me. My first kid would've been like three now."

My breath hitches in my throat, and I feel like someone emptied a bucket of icy cold water all over me. I shouldn't have dumped this on him. I should've stayed quiet and went my own separate way forever.
 

"I'm sorry," I manage. I'm lying here because I couldn't face this on my own. But it was all my fault, and I should have told him before, or stayed away and faced it on my own.

"I feel like I should at least pay for it," he says, and touches my belly, right where Sarah might still be growing, if I hadn't killed her.

"I already did," I mutter, taking his hand before he can pull it away.
 

The weight of all I did wrong presses against me like a huge slab of cement, taking my air, crushing me to death. His hand under mine, resting against my stomach is the only thing that still gives me hope I'll survive this. Only, he's already pulling it away, and I can't have that, I won't let him.

I scoot over as close as I can get and wrap my arm around him, burying my head in his chest. He smells of fabric softener and fresh air.
 

"Can you ever forgive me? Because you have to, I can't live if you don't." I'm sobbing more than saying the words into his chest, and I know it's a lot to ask, too much probably, but I feel like this is the last chance I have to make this plea. Like I'm being led to the gallows, and I only have very little time left to make amends, to atone. "But I didn't know I was pregnant, and I drank a lot, and I took so many sleeping pills, and I exercised, hard, so maybe Sarah would never be born in the first place, even if I hadn't killed her."

He's stiff as a board in my arms, neither pulling away nor touching me. What I'm saying is the truth even if it all sounds like so many fickle, empty excuses. Because we'll never know, not after what I did.

"And…and we can have more babies, if you want," I finish, not sure where the words are coming from, but I mean them.

He laughs, the harsh sound knocking into my ears.

"You're actually serious?" he asks.
 

"Yes."

He grabs my shoulder and pushes me away, then stares into my eyes. It's like looking into an impossibly deep, pitch black lake, nothing disturbing its surface. "Are you for real?"

His fingers are digging into the soft flesh of my back, and tension from his coiled muscles is flowing into me, turning me to stone.

"You still think I'm playing games with you?" I ask, stuck between sadness and anger now. "After all this?"

He's staring at me like he's going to lash out at any moment, drag me off the bed, and kick me out of the apartment. Or maybe that's only my fear talking, preparing me for the inevitable end.

"Because that's not what I'm doing, and I don't think I ever was," I say, my voice firm and strong, like someone else is talking. Because the mess I am couldn't possibly sound so collected. "Maybe this sounds like crazy talk, but I've never met anyone I want to be around more than you. And that's the truth. I could've gone about it better, and then we'd probably not be lying here like this, and none of this would ever have happened. But I'm going to have to live with that for the rest of my life, so maybe you should decide already how you feel about me."

 
His grip on my shoulder loosens, his eyes softer now and his lips parted, like maybe he wants to kiss me. "Me decide? I'm still waiting for you to do that?"

I ball my hand into a fist, so I won't touch his lips, because this is not the right time for that. Even though it might be my last chance.
 

"I've already decided," I say. "Like I said, I don't want you seeing any other girls but me."

I smile a little as I say it, hoping he'll do the same and kiss me, maybe. And it's crazy because my belly is cramping and I'm still bleeding, but I want him inside me.

"And if I say no, what are you gonna do then?" he asks and I gasp. He's smiling too, shadows disappearing from his eyes, but I still can't tell if he's serious or not.
 

"Then…then…I'll…" But I don't know what I'll do. Probably crawl away into some dark room and disappear forever. Gail the spinster, her nose stuck in some dusty old book forever. Gail the cat lady, forever alone. Because I don't want anyone else but Scott.
 

"You'll what?" he asks, his fingers playing with my hair now, his gaze swallowing me whole.

I lunge forward, and he loses his balance, exhales sharply as I land on his chest.
 

"Then I'll make you," I say and kiss him firmly, urgently, like I did that first night, up on the broken down pier. Both of his hands are tangled up in my hair, and my tongue is in his mouth, wrestling with his. Heat like from a fire is crackling through me, sparks going off in all the right places. His hard cock is pressing into my stomach, and I'd give many things to have it inside me. And even though the pain in my belly is more like a distant memory on the way out, it's still there and it would be a very bad idea.
 

The urgency of my kiss lessens as my fear that he'll push me away fades. I kiss him more softly, then pull away, running my thumb across his lips, like I wanted to earlier. Because I can now, nothing is stopping me.

His breath is hot against my finger, his lips soft and parted. I push my thumb in and he grabs it with his teeth, licking the tip, sucking it. I moan and push it in further, running my fingers against the rough stubble of his cheeks. He peels my hand away and guides my head down for another kiss, his hand caressing my back, his leg wrapped around mine, pulling me closer.

We're not in the apartment anymore, but on a beach somewhere, a glorious sunset spilling across the sky all around us. Which is how it will stay forever. Because nothing can touch us when we're together, no storms, no winds, no raging black waves, just the sun setting in hues of yellow, lilac, red, pink and orange against a calm, cloudless sky.

Sunlight wakes me the next morning. Scott's spooning me, his hand resting on my belly, warmth passing into me and easing, erasing the pain. I pull the blanket up to shield my eyes from the sun, so we can just stay like this for the rest of the day. He stirs and shifts his hand, but I clamp down on it, holding it in place firmly.

"You're awake then?" he says and chuckles, and I know the question is laced with hidden meanings, but I'm not even going to try and guess them.

"Mhm." Is all I say and nestle closer to him, keeping my hand over his across my belly.

His body is warm and firm, yet soft and pliant against mine, and if I didn't have to get up for a long time, that would be fine by me.
 

I don't even know what day it is, and I don't care. It's like the world is still, frozen, waiting for us to decide it can start moving again. But I don't know if Scott really knows I feel that way, and it's very important that he does.

"Thank you for putting up with me," I mutter.

"What was that?" he asks, speaking into my hair.

"I'm such a mess, and anyone sane would have dropped me by now," I say more firmly this time. "And I want to thank you for not doing that."

He shifts a little closer, so his legs are pressing into the back of mine. "And I want to thank you for not reporting me for rape."

He chuckles after he says it, but I know he's serious too, and I don't want him to be. "You didn't rape me."

"You could totally press charges for that. And I wouldn't even deny it," he says and pulls me even closer so there's not even a breath of air between us. "Or maybe I would. Prison su…would suck."

"Seriously, Scott, don't worry about it. I forgive you," I say, because I'm sure that's what he needs to hear.

"I think that was the night you got pregnant," he continues like I haven't spoken at all. "So it's better that you got rid of it."

His words are harsh, but his tone isn't. The idea still brings tears to my eyes, visions of a black, stormy sea clear in my mind. "Don't say that. It isn't true."

"Well, that's what I'm going with," he says. "You have your sleeping pills and exercise excuse, and I have that."

I want to turn around and kiss him, but then I'd break the hug and I don't want to. "Whatever works, right?"

Nothing will ever work. I'll never forget, never stop blaming myself, but all that is frozen along with the rest of the world right now, and that's how I want it to stay for at least a little while longer.

"It's just my luck really. I should've seen it coming," he says and rests his head back on the pillow so I feel his breath on my neck.

"I messed up with the pills, it's all my fault," I say, because it's true and I can face it now, with his arm around me. "And what does that even mean, your luck?"

"Whenever I do something wrong I get punished for it, like immediately," he whispers. "Or when something good happens, something equally bad always follows."

I don't want him to think that, it hurts. "This is good, isn't it? Do you think something bad will happen? Because I don't."

"Maybe not, I don't know," he says, and brushes the hair away from my neck with his free hand. "At least, I hope it doesn't."

He kisses my neck and I sigh, turning my head sideways to give him better access. My skin is so tender and every touch of his lips sends heat shooting down through my chest, into my stomach, finally pooling in a single spot between my legs. I let go of his hand, and reach back, pulling him closer. He places his leg over mine, and I push back against his erection, let it rest against me in the spot where I wish he could enter me right now. His hand is under my shirt, cupping my breast. He licks my neck and I moan loudly, rocking back against his cock. He's breathing hard now, his tongue tracing the line from my collar bone up to my jaw.

"Maybe we shouldn't start anything we can't finish," he says, right before he takes my earlobe between his teeth.

"But we can finish this," I whisper and slide my hand behind the elastic of his waistband, and run my fingers gently along his length. It's pulsing against my hand, the head all wet. I run my palm across, then grip his cock and slide my hand back down to the base. He sighs deeply, his tongue in my ear now, making me moan. I slide my palm up and down, all the way to the tip, back to the base, repeat. His breath is hot against my neck and coming in short burst now. He bucks his cock into my hand, meeting my movements. I'm breathing hard, because making him feel good makes me feel good too.
 

He clasps my hand over his cock to hold it still, and thrusts faster, more urgently. Then he grunts, and his stomach tenses. A hot wetness erupts all over my hand, wetting my pants and shirt.
 

I don't let go of his cock right away, enjoying his cum cooling on my palm. "How was that then?"
 

"That was fucking awesome, Gail," he says, and kisses my cheek then pulls away and lies on his back. I flip over and rest my head on his chest, listening to his breaths crackle as they return to normal.

"Maybe we should get up, or something," he says after awhile.
 

I'm running my fingers across the hills and valley of his ripped stomach, and I really don't want to stop. "Why would we do that?"

"Well, I really have to piss for one thing," he says and chuckles.

I lean back so he can get up. "OK, but come right back."

He sits on the edge of the bed and stretches. "I'm also kinda hungry."

Come to think of it, so am I.
 

"We could go to that place down on the beach. They have really good clam chowder," I suggest, sitting up too.
 

"Ewww, clam chowder, that's disgusting," he says and grins back at me.

"They have hot dogs and stuff too," I argue. I'm already almost tasting the soup, and I really want to have it.

"That's even worse," he complains.
 

"How picky are you?" I climb off the bed, the motion sending a sharp stab through my belly, but it recedes quickly and doesn't linger. "Fine, you decide."

Half an hour later we're walking along the sidewalk. The cold wind is sending my hair flying all around my head, and every step I take causes a sharp jolt of pain in my stomach. Scott watches me for awhile, walking as slowly as I am, then wraps his arm around me. I lean against him gratefully, my arm around his waist.
 

"You sure you can walk all the way to the beach?" he asks.

I grin up at him. "I hope so, because I really want that clam chowder." His eyes are blue like a cloudless summer sky today. "If not, you could always carry me."

"Oh yeah, that sounds like a lot of fun for me." He leans down and kisses me softly, just a peck, surprising me so I can't return it.

It takes awhile to reach the beach, and I'm winded by the time we do, my cheeks red from the cold.

"We can eat somewhere else," I say as we stop in front of the clam chowder place.

He smiles and holds the door open for me. "No, Gail, that's OK. I'll just have a burger or something."

We get a table by the window, which is so small our legs are touching under it. I'd prefer to be sitting next to him, but there's no room.

When my soup arrives, I dig in hungrily. It's too hot and scalds my tongue, making me curse. I really wanted to enjoy it.

"You should blow on that first," Scott says and hands me the glass of water.

"Why didn't you say something before?" I say and grin, taking the glass of water and dipping my tongue in.

He's just looking at me, not even touching his burger, his leg pressed firmly against mine under the table.

"What?" I ask.

"You're just so—"

"Clumsy, yes, I know," I finish the sentence for him, splashing the table top with water as I deposit my glass onto it, as though to prove my point.