Edge of torment, p.19
Edge of Torment, page 19
I stepped out of the shower and snatched my towel off the hook. I was pissed, really pissed. Pissed that he would do that and pissed that my body would betray me in those ways.
“Leave. Now,” I said angrily, as I wrapped the towel around me. I started to cry. “That was...cruel. And I think you’re just...afraid, afraid of your feelings.” Boldness took over. He had practically told me he loved me the night before and now this? He couldn’t do these things to me if I didn’t let him. I was in control right now. This was my home. Who did he think he was?
He began to walk out of the bathroom. He was just going to leave? I realized at that moment that I didn’t want him to leave. Oh god. I needed more strength. I should want him to leave, but all I wanted was to understand him better, to understand his feelings, his actions. But I would not beg him to stay this time. As lovesick and pathetic as I was, what he had just done was wrong. It was just plain mean. I blushed thinking that his control and force of power made me...I’m not sure what exactly. I just knew it was so fucking confusing.
I went out after him as he got dressed. I contained my emotions and stopped the tears from falling. I tried to seem unattached, unemotional. “Are you going to work dressed like that?” He had his t-shirt and jeans on from the previous night.
“No.” He sighed, and I could tell he felt guilty. “My Tesla is parked in the garage down the street, and I have a change of clothes in it.”
Don’t ask me why, but I felt like cutting him some slack. “I don’t mind if you want to get them and come back and get dressed,” I offered. I could see pain in his eyes. I knew he needed nurturing. I needed nurturing. Deep down, I knew he was insecure and scared. Still, it didn’t excuse what he had done.
“Thank you,” and he walked out the door.
This was so disconcerting. My emotional mood swings made me feel like I was going through puberty all over again. I should be furious at this man. Who does things like that? All he had to say was Annabelle, I don’t enjoy what you’re doing to me right now. Could you please stop? But instead, he had to torture me to make a point, hold my aching breasts under freezing cold water?
I should not even want to be with such a man, and yet I loved the control he exerted over me most times. I hated to admit it, but it was the truth. But this, in the shower, it crossed a line, and I knew it. I was grateful to have a few minutes to think, to set some boundaries, to lay out an outline for us to communicate. Communication might be his strength out in the real world, but here, in my tiny apartment, he royally sucked at it.
He came back into my apartment. “Thanks,” he said again, without looking up at me and went straight into the bathroom. I could hear him brushing his teeth, gargling, placing a hairbrush down. I could smell his cologne coming through the door, and my knees buckled. Oh no you don’t, I told myself. He had acted like a complete ass, a real troglodyte. Do not let him off the hook.
He came out gorgeous. I was still freezing, draped in my towel. “Can we talk before you go? Please?” I asked, shivering.
“I was hoping you would say that.” He looked so sincere, but so insecure at the same time. So lost. My heart ached for him.
“Coffee?” I asked.
“Please.”
He sat down on the very same stool, at the very same counter as Patricia had sat only a few hours before. The dynamic was hardly the same.
“I don’t even know how you take your coffee,” I admitted.
“Black,” he said, that sadness filling his eyes.
I wanted to kiss him. I didn’t want to see him in pain, even if he had been an asshole. If anyone knew what it was like not to be perfect, it was me.
“What happened back there?” I questioned.
“I’m sorry.” He looked into his coffee, as if the answers could be found in there.
I didn’t know how to get answers out of him. I finally just came out and asked. “Michael, do you love me?” I tried not to seem desperate in my tone.
His stare turned so intense, I wanted to run. I wished I hadn’t asked. Silence filled the room, and he looked back into his coffee.
I was freezing. “I’m going to get a robe.” I scooted out of the kitchen to my bedroom and quickly came back in a robe.
“Come here,” he said. “Let me warm you up.” I could tell he was trying to make up for what he had just done.
I wanted him to hold me, I wanted to be close to him, but I couldn’t forget the coldness he had just shown me, quite literally in this case. I shook my head.
“Please, Annabelle.” It was him begging me.
I shook my head no again, but I struggled to deny him.
“Please Annabelle. I’m not happy with myself right now.”
I sighed and slowly went over. He wrapped his arms tightly around my waist as I sat down on his lap. I buried my face in his chest. “Why are you so complicated?” My stomach ached. My head pounded. I could feel my tears again.
“Baby, I’m sorry. I hate to see you cry like this. Please don’t. There’s something I need to tell you.” I felt his body tense. “Actually, please go back to where you were. Your closeness may make me lose my courage.”
I knew the feeling. I went around into the kitchen to look at him through the opening. I was nervous as to what he was about to say.
“I am not a perfect man, Annabelle...I...” He was struggling, afraid to talk to me.
“Nobody is, Michael. I don’t expect you or anyone to be perfect.” I tried to console him through the opening, taking his hand.
“Remember when I told you that my parents divorced, and I wasn’t really ever the same?”
“Yes,” I said softly.
“Well, the reason my parents got a divorce was because my mother cheated on my father. It crushed him. It crushed me, our family. My relationship with both my parents was strained for a long time afterwards. I had and have major trust issues as a result, trust issues I will probably never really resolve...issues in general.”
I couldn’t believe he was opening up to me like this. “I’m so sorry, Michael.” My heart hurt for him. My parents were happily married. I realized how lucky I was.
“It’s not your fault. Please don’t take pity on me. Thousands of kids go through divorce. I only tell you this because I dealt with my issues in unhealthy ways. And sometimes, I still struggle with my emotions.” He looked intently at me to make sure I was following, listening, not freaking out.
He continued, “After they divorced, I vowed that I would never fall in love with anyone, but I would be sure to be wanted, to be needed. Now that’s pretty fucked up, I’ll admit, but I don’t think I knew that intellectually, consciously at the time, it was more on a subconscious level. I could only see it for what it was years later.” He paused, as if finding courage.
“So by the time I was a sophomore in high school, I had slowly learned how to turn girls on, to manipulate them. It felt amazing to have control over something or someone. I had no control over my parents, or my father, or what my mother did. But I sure could control how I made a girl feel.”
“That’s pretty shitty, Michael,” I had to admit.
“Maybe. But it felt so good, and it wasn’t as bad as it sounds. Some girls got their hearts broken, yes. I can’t lie. But some really enjoyed the ride. When I think back to what I could get girls to do...you’d die. I felt like my high school years were a learning playground for sexual control. I loved it. It was the first time I felt good about myself. The first time I felt needed, and it was the only thing I could control in my life. When I went away to go to school in Iceland, there were clubs and women and...let’s just say, I got two educations over there.
“By the time I got out of college and later dated Rebecca, I began to realize that a life without love would be empty. So my new goal was to get a woman to love me so desperately, she would never think to cheat on me, like my mother did to my dad.” He took a long sip of his coffee.
“I thought Rebecca would be that woman. I respected and admired her. She was a sweetheart and a family friend. And she responded all too well to my...ways. The only problem was that I was not falling in love with her, even though I willed it to happen. I cared about her. I wanted to love her. But I would never get married. And I knew in my heart, it would never happen for us.”
“Michael...I...” I struggled. I felt so many emotions. Disgust. Jealousy. I was even mildly aroused, thinking how adept he was at sex. But my biggest emotion was sadness, sadness because I had fallen in love with someone who perhaps wasn’t capable of love. Was this his way of breaking up with me? Telling me that he was unable to love fully?
He could see my expression and the tears threatened my eyes again. “Annabelle, I hope you don’t hate me. To answer your question about love. It pains me to admit this...”
My stomach tightened, and I felt like I might throw up. He was about to tell me that he couldn’t love me. I braced myself for it.
“I’m not sure I’ll be any good at it...but...I have fallen in love with you.” He took a deep breath. “Deeply.”
Chapter Twelve
I sat there frozen. Had I heard him correctly? Did he really just say he loved me? Deeply?
“Say something, Annabelle. Please. Say something.”
And I finally just lost it and let myself go. I couldn’t control it anymore. Tears fell. I hadn’t expected him to say that. “You love me?” I ran to him. I kissed him, and he took me into his arms. I knew I should not have forgiven him so easily, but I just couldn’t help it. I somehow understood him. I understood imperfections. I had imperfections of my own. He had seen them.
He let out a small laugh. “Yes, Annabelle. I do. And it scares me. The suddenness of this relationship…my feelings. It all scares me. You were right to say I was afraid. My fear gripped me this morning, coming to terms with the love I feel for you, with the love you say you feel for me. I needed to feel back in control of my emotions, back in control, period. I went too far in the shower, and yet, I can’t promise a hundred percent that something like that will never happen again. I like control, Annabelle. You must understand that about me.” He paused. “This relationship, you, Annabelle, makes me feel out of control. And I just don’t know how to handle that.”
“If it makes you feel any better, I feel completely out of control too. I, too, have never fallen for someone like this. Ever. I’ve never acted so impulsively,” I whispered, embarrassed, “I didn’t think this kind of love existed.”
He smiled at that and exhaled, as if he had been nervous of my response, and brushed my tears away completely with his thumbs.
“It’s true,” I reassured him, relaxing into his touch.
“But Annabelle, what you need to understand is that I need to be in control sexually. I love it. I can’t have it any other way. I’ve told you this. I want to know that you don’t just want me, but that you need me. If this is something that disturbs you, I understand if you want to end this relationship right now. But it’s who I am. It’s not going to change.”
I blinked up at him, blushing. “I don’t want it to change. I just like when you talk to me like this, too. You can tell me anything. I won’t judge.”
“And I’ll try. I really will. Talking has never been my strength. I like controlling you sexually, Annabelle. A lot. I’m pretty confident that you like it too.” He paused, lifting my chin to look at him. “At least most of the time.”
I just sighed, weighing what he was saying, weighing what I should say and feel. I wanted to be stronger. I wanted to remain pissed at him for what he had done to me in the shower, for his unnecessary punishment. I wanted to talk more about what had happened. But the mood was shifting again. We just couldn’t escape our sexual pull to one another.
“Did you enjoy last night?”
I shyly replied, “You know I did.”
“Yes. I do, even though I almost ruined it this morning. And I am sorry for that. I wish I could make it up to you right now, all day actually. But I am in meetings and conferences today and for the rest of the week. In fact, if I don’t get a move on right now, I’m going to be late.”
“Oh,” I said, sickened about not seeing him, not being able to make this right.
“Hey,” he kissed my forehead. “Please don’t be sad.”
“It’s okay,” I mustered, on the god-damned verge of tears again.
“My sister is having her annual October beer fest this coming Saturday. She makes her own beer. Come with me? Please? I meant to ask you earlier.”
“Will Rebecca be there?” I ask hesitantly.
“Yes,” he picked up my chin again. “But I don’t want that to stop you. I would love for you to meet my sister.”
I smiled, trying to meet his gaze without tears spilling over. “And your parents?” God I couldn’t deny how much I wanted to know this man.
He hesitated. “My mother, yes.” He continued, trying to change the subject. “And my friend, Sam.”
Courageously I asked, “But not your father? Do your parents still speak?” I cleared my throat. “After…after your mom…cheated?”
He let go of my chin and let my face fall. He whispered, “Not my father, Annabelle. My father is dead.”
I inhaled. “Oh, Michael...”
“No more pity party for me,” he shifted, tensing. “You can let me know what you decide. You and Sam should have a lot in common.” He winked, trying to lighten the mood. “She’s a real lesbian. Not some poser like you, Ms. Smith.”
I giggled a little. I just couldn’t help it. I loved this man, this confusing, imperfect man. “I want you to know that I’m still pissed at what you did today in the shower. Don’t forget that.” And I worried I was letting him off the hook too easily.
“I know. I was a shitball.”
“Shitball?” And I laughed. I had never heard anyone use that expression before. “Something you learned during your education in Iceland?” I asked sarcastically.
“Wouldn’t you love to know,” he teased me back, kissing me, hard.
I would, actually, I thought to myself and sighed, frowning, trying to ignore the sadness that crept back into my heart. Someday I would force it out of him, but it was getting late.
He sensed it. “Seriously, Annabelle, I’m sorry. I want to learn what it means to love...Please have patience.”
Again, all I could do was sigh. I trusted his words, and yet I worried about the ease with which I could forgive him, the out-of-control emotional pull I had to him. I didn’t think I could ever let him go. I was in too deep. He didn’t even need to ask me for patience. I would have done anything for him.
He picked up my hair and lightly brushed his lips against my neck, and my body unwillingly responded, as I inhaled sharply. He gave me a light slap on my ass, ever the mood shifter, and said, “Go get ready for work. You know I don’t like to be late.”
Over the course of the next few days, I knew I needed to catch up with family and friends, especially my brother, and of course, there was Scott. Susan would be the easiest, the most pleasant. But Scott. Scott would be the most difficult. In a way, it would be good to have Michael busy, out of my life, at least physically, for a few days. Mentally, he would never be two seconds removed, as much as I tried. And I knew that was exactly what he wanted. At night, he would call me to torment me sexually, and I reveled in it.
“Don’t touch yourself, Annabelle. You need to save that for me. And I’ll know if you do.”
“And how could you possibly know?” I’d ask, really wondering if he would be able to know.
“Do you really want to take that chance? I know your body. I know the normal size of your clit and when it’s swollen. Go ahead, baby. Give it a stroke. I’ll let you. Lightly brush your thumb up and down it like I would.”
I would proceed to moan loudly. “Oh, Michael. Can’t you come visit me?” I’d beg, even though it would be almost midnight.
“Sssh. Breathe, Annabelle. I can hear you holding your breath. Exhale and touch those beautiful, sensitive nipples. Pinch each one of them for me. Let me hear you.”
“Michael. Okay. That’s enough. I’m done. I want you. Please.”
“I want you too, baby. Go get some sleep. Can’t wait for Saturday.”
“Me too.” I had no choice but to concede. “I love you, Michael.” He would leave me so frustrated, hot. He was such a tease.
“Good night, baby.”
And that would be all. He’d never say he loved me back. I’d desperately wish to hear him say it, and yet he’d told me that one time, and I hadn’t heard it again since. I wondered if he’d ever let his guard down with me again. I wondered if it was only his guilt that made him say those three little words to me. My insecurities were never too far off, and I hated that.
Each day I’d have to put on my best face, as I lived life in a constant feverish sexual arousal. I’d wonder to myself, does it show? Can people see that I’m filled with sexual tension all the time? Does it show in my flushed face? During the work day, only if busy was I able to forget him and put my sexual longing on the back burner.
When Friday came to a close, I couldn’t wait. Only one more day. God, I missed him. His touch, his humor, his passion...his smell. Hmmm. One more day.
Luckily, I had talked to my parents. Thank god they were down the Cape and didn’t like to drive that much. Two hours was just enough distance between us. I did break the news to them about Scott. My mother actually cried, bawled her eyes out. My dad—he seemed relieved. Do dads ever really want their daughters to fall in love?
I told my brother Jack about Michael. I felt closest to him. He had two daughters, and even though I didn’t see them much, they called me their favorite aunt. I was the queen of goody packages. My other brothers and I emailed and spoke on the phone occasionally, but they were corporate tycoons. One had married, the other wouldn’t think of it. Work was really their family now. And, one could argue, money. We didn’t have much in common.
I certainly didn’t tell Jack everything, but I did tell him that Michael was pretty amazing. He was happy for me. When I called Susan, she picked up on the first ring.
