She didn’t.
She lost her balance and fell on her face. Instead of moving, though, she just stayed there and wept into the pillow.
I grabbed her hands and pinned them above her head, going in slow circles, trying to fuck her right, trying to make her feel good. Kissing her shoulders, nibbling on her neck.
“Good girl,” I lied.
It wasn’t working. Anyone might think she was crying in ecstasy but she was just weeping into the fucking pillow.
I stopped and got up on my knees, straddling her backside.
I gathered her hair into my fist, gently moved it aside and leaned over and kissed her exposed neck. I started massaging her back with my hands, wanting to work out the tension. I didn’t feel any. She was like a ragdoll. Just limp, lying there.
I rolled off to the side but took her with me. She’d stopped trembling, stopped whimpering. She was just red-eyed, limp and broken. And it was my fault. I’d been spending weeks trying to put her back together and now she looked worse than she did before.
I undid her blouse and took it off her. She just laid there while I did this.
I took the bra off and threw it across the room, hating that she was wired. I got her out of her skirt and she was against my side in just her tiny peach thong. I turned the television on and cranked the volume up. Some Asian parade was on and there was music playing. I turned it louder.
I threw the sheet over our heads. It was a cream-colored sheet so the light filtered through and we could see one another.
“What can I do?” I whispered softly into her ear, as softly as I could, hoping she’d hear me over the loud racket.
She shrugged. She wasn’t looking at me. She was looking off into space. Eyes red, cheeks blotchy.
I curled into her, keeping the bedding over our heads, shielding us from them.
She didn’t snuggle in. She didn’t respond at all. She closed her eyes and then she started to sob again.
I held the back of her head, burying her face into my throat.
She didn’t pull away. She let me hold her. She wasn’t holding me back, though, and that was something I felt in my throat like a big fucking lump.
I tried again. I slid my fingers between her legs. She winced. Her entire body winced. I let go.
Space. I’d give her a bit of space.
I watched her, tried to read her expression. She lifted the sheet down so that she could get air, leaving me underneath. As if we were in two different places. Separated.
What to do? What to fucking do? Smoke? Drink? Swim? Sleep?
Take her off this property and the fuck away from Thailand?
My phone made noise.
I reached into my suit pants pocket for it.
A text from Tommy told me they were back home and asked me to check in when I had a chance.
I texted,
“FML.”
He wrote back,
“You ok?”
I replied,