Impossible, I try to convince myself.
“Are you comfortable?” Chris says.
I nod. As comfortable as I can be under the circumstances.
“I can carry you into the spare room if you think it would be better.”
“No.” God, please, no more carrying.
Chris stops fiddling with the cloth and leans forward on his knees. I'm especially aware of his warm hip against mine. He looks towards the kitchen where Ashley is cleaning up. Then he looks back at me, a thousand questions written on his face. I pray silently he doesn't ask them.
I feel like a child, tucked in, trapped, wanting to play outside when my parents are convinced I'm ill. When did I allow them to have so much power over me? Why can't I just stand up and leave? ...because my head weighs eight tons. Right.
All I can do is lay and wait.
“Do you need help, hun?” Chris asks Ashley without moving.
“Nope. All set.” The water runs for a moment. Shortly after, the light in the kitchen goes out, leaving us in near darkness. “I'm going to bed,” she says, passing by, casting a glance in our direction that piques my nerves. She disappears into the bedroom.
Chris turns towards me. My heart pounds in my chest. He slides his fingers between us, under the sheet and retrieves my hand, hot and shaky in his. He draws it towards his mouth while looking into my eyes. My focus shifts towards the bedroom then back to his lips on my fingers. I resist slightly but he has a good grip.
“I'm sorry I asked about your husband,” he says, his breath hot on my hand.
I feel the sudden urge to vomit.
“Whatever happened must have been big,” he continues.
I look away and try to free my hand. “I don't want to talk about it.” My body is cold now, my face hot.
He uses his free hand to turn lift my chin. I want to shove him off the edge of the sofa yet I feel ...cared for, so I don't. His hand warms one side of my face. I avert my eyes. My heart still pounds against my ribs.
“Sleep well,” he says, then leans over me and plants his lips on mine, soft, slow, desirous.
My eyes well up. As soon as he stands up, I turn on my side, facing into the back of the sofa to hide my face and streaming tears. The room goes black then the door closes to the bedroom. I lay sobbing into the pillow for a while, trying hard to disappear into the sofa, to bury myself forever. The hair stands on my arms. What does he expect of me? I’m sure I probably don't want to give it. How could he kiss me in his own house? With his wife in the next room? What does he do with other girls? Just kiss them? Or does he actually have sex with them? What have I gotten myself into?
Consciousness returns to me slowly, my eyes taking in foreign surroundings, trying to figure out if I'm dreaming or awake. Within moments I remember I'm at Chris' house on the sofa ...and I have to use the bathroom bad. I swing my legs off the sofa and sit up. Besides being tired, everything seems stable.
I stand up and shift quietly through the room towards the bathroom, slip in and close the door behind me. When I flip on the light, the ventilation fan comes whirring on and I quickly flip it off again. I'll find my way in the dark.
Looking towards the window, it appears to be near morning, still dark but signs of light in the distant sky. I cringe at the sound of the flushing toilet, hoping I haven't woken them up. Now is my time to get out of here.
“I'm sorry,” I whisper. “Did I wake you up?”
“No,” she says shortly. “I think you should leave.”
What? I avert my eyes for a moment to collect my thoughts. “I was planning to actually. I'm sorry if --”
“Just leave.”
I freeze, staring at her, trying to understand. “Okay.” What's the use in arguing? I was planning to leave at this very moment. Still I feel the need to defend myself. But against what? Kissing Chris? Staying the night? What is she upset about?
Seeing that she's not budging and isn't moving out of my way, I force myself by her and head towards the door. Her feet pad along the hardwood and carpet behind me. She really wants me out.
I open the front door, step out and turn to apologize once more but end up facing a closed door. Damn! What's that all about? I can't understand it. Last night she was so nurturing and helpful. What changed?
I descend the steps down to the ground, thankful to discover my bike is still here. The ride home is tiring in the middle of the night. As soon as I reach the motel, I drop fully clothed into bed and fall asleep instantly.
The sun wakes me up, streaming into the room and across my pillow. I squint into it, push my hair back and search for the clock. 9:12 Crud! I was supposed to meet Wesley at 9:00.
I drop my head back down onto the pillow. What was I thinking, planning a date with Wesley? I don’t need to complicate things. When I made the plans, I was so taken by Wesley. But at the moment, spending the morning by the water – alone – sounds much better. And after last night with Chris, I’m not sure I can handle any more romance …or whatever that was.
I get out of bed and catch myself in the mirror – pale, dark circles under my eyes and unshowered. Beautiful. I’m about to call Wesley to cancel but my heart starts beating wildly. I need friends. Not friends like Chris and Ashley. Good friends. Maybe I should give Wesley a chance.
~~ Should Ana/Mollie call to cancel or call to tell him she’s running late? ~~
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