We found a deli where I ordered corned beef on rye with fries and a Coke and she softly told the waitress “Same for me.” We’d walked in silence, and then ate in silence, people watching out the window. I caught a glimpse of her throat and it was red from when I’d grabbed her. It would probably be bruised tomorrow. My gut twisted when I saw that. I looked away and as I did, I caught a young college-aged guy in a varsity jacket checking her out from across the restaurant. I glared at him and he went red in the face and looked the other way. She saw it happen. She looked back down at her food, which she’d barely touched.
Then on our way back, as we made our way past the Bellagio’s fountains, I saw her stare at it in what looked like appreciation so I stopped and we stood there so she could watch. Her eyes were sad. I felt my heart constrict. Fuck, Tia. I’m sorry, baby. These words stayed in the middle of my throat.
I turned her to face me and I caressed her face and stared at her for a minute, trying to say things with my eyes that I couldn’t find the words for and after a minute I pulled her in close for a kiss. Her lips parted and she let me kiss her but she didn’t really kiss me back. She winced. I think her lips were sore from earlier.
Anyone walking by would’ve thought we looked like a happy couple in love with the backdrop of the Bellagio water fountains. It’d make a winning post card. Good thing we weren’t standing there holding one another with thought bubbles dangling over our heads.
My thought bubble: I’m so sorry, Baby, sorry for what I am, for what I need to do to you. I went too far. I wish I could take it back.
Hers: I fucking hate you. I hope you die, you rotten to the core animal.
Tia
At the restaurant and walking to and from, he kept stealing glances at me. I think he was looking to see if I hated him. He probably wanted to know if I’d stopped caring about him, if he’d killed that. He’d shown me many sides of him since we’d been thrown together and after seeing this side, after seeing him snap like that with me, and then find it within himself to use me like that; he was probably trying to determine whether or not I could handle this.
The truth was that I didn’t know. I didn’t know what I felt. I knew I had to handle it from the perspective of being trapped with him right now but what I didn’t know was if I could handle it in the way that… would it break me?
In the moments when he was being horribly cruel I thought my feelings had shriveled up and died. I would’ve guessed that now in the public I would take my chances by screaming bloody murder, hoping someone would rescue me.
But then with the reveal of the necklace being some sort of anchor for him, then the way he held me and said he loved me, and fell asleep against me like he was completely exhausted, like he’d been through the ringer, just like after Mexico, it just hit, twisted a knife in me somewhere deep. I had fallen asleep but just for a little while; I think my brain made me sleep to protect me because I couldn’t process it at the time. After I’d woken, most of me underneath him, unable to move without waking him, I just stayed still and tried processing it. I was still processing it. All of it.
That necklace had come off and on him. He’d been broody for the past few days and then there it was and he settled down. He took it off to be horrible to me when I’d pissed him off and then when I put it back on he told me he loved me and passed out like he’d exhausted himself.
It was on him at the beach after our first date when he’d been so passionate. It was on him in the basement when he wasn’t upset after I’d gone down before he woke up. I’d seen him take it off a few times when he was about to be particularly horrible. He didn’t want to wear it in Mexico when he went off to enact revenge against my kidnappers. He took it off when he wanted to punish me, twice from what I could remember.
What was it with that necklace and more importantly, how could I keep it on his neck? And how would I convince him that he needed therapy? He’d been really stressed out since talking with my Dad at the hospital. He’d hardly slept the past few days. That stress on his mind and his body...did it build up to this and then erupt like a volcano, spilling molten lava all over me?
Tommy
After I kissed her, I wouldn’t say she responded but she didn’t pull away either, she looked at me like she was trying to de-code me.
Good luck with that, Baby.
I pulled her tight against me and kissed her on the top of her head and we stood for a long time just watching the lightshow. I ran my hands up and down her back and her arms, just holding her close to me. I wanted her to relax against me but she was stiff, holding her arms at her sides.
“Ready?” I finally asked after realizing she wasn’t going to relax.
We walked back toward the hotel, hand in hand. Then two beat cops passed us on the sidewalk just before we hit the entrance. My gaze darted to her face. She glanced at the cops and then straight ahead, the way she’d glance at anyone we passed. I squeezed her hand real quick and then let out a long breath of relief. I wasn’t sure if she noticed or not.
We got up to our suite in silence and then when we got into the bedroom she disappeared into a bathroom. I heard the shower turn on.
I debated whether or not to get in with her or go to the other bathroom but finally decided I had no choice. I had to look after her. I had to make sure we were okay.
I walked into the bathroom, took off my clothes, and climbed into the shower and found her sitting on the tiles inside the shower stall, huddled in the corner, bawling her eyes out under the running water, her face buried in her knees.
She gasped when she saw me step in and then it was like transparent shutters came down and her expression went cold. No. Fuck no! I had to fix this.
“Tia, come here,” I said as gently as I could, despite the emotion twisting in my gut, and motioned for her to get up. She did, but robotically. I took her face into my hands and I kissed her and pulled her tight to me.
She stood there, trembling, despite the fact that the shower was scalding hot.
“Put your arms around me, baby, please?” I pleaded with her.
She did but it felt robotic, too. I soaped up my hands and started on her back, rubbing my hands up and down. I massaged her shoulders and then took a step back and started on her beautiful breasts, moving my soapy hands up and down and then massaging her throat while softly kissing her face. She reached over and took the shampoo and squeezed some onto her palm and then started to rub it into her hair, squeezing her eyes shut tight and focusing on her shampooing as if I wasn’t even touching her. I let go of her and started to scrub myself instead. She turned her back on me and got further under the stream. When she was rinsed off, she said, “Excuse me,” not looking at me, and then she squeezed by me and left the shower. I leaned against the wall and contemplated what to do next.
I could hear her blow-drying her hair outside the shower stall.
I got cleaned up and tried let the hot water wash something, I didn’t know what, that was part of me, away. Yes, I’d wanted her pissed, I wanted her provoked so I could bring her to heel and satisfy my urges and work off my frustration but it had gone off the rails. I never knew she’d run from me. The hour between her taking off and her telling me she was back in the room put me over the edge. I knew she wasn’t far, I had a GPS in her ring and had seen she wasn’t far, but the fact that she’d pushed back that hard made me lose my shit like I’d never before lost it with a woman.