Resolution (Saviour #2)(8)
I lock up and finally crawl into bed with my hot, sexy, tosser of a what? Boyfriend, lover, partner, soul mate???
I leave a lamp on and lay and watch him for a while, running my fingers over his cheeks, his lips, along his jaw and through his hair. It is ridiculous how much I already love him, I laugh out loud when he lets out a little moan when I kiss him on the mouth. I close my eyes and must instantly nod off to sleep, but years of parenthood make me wake up the instant I hear Gabe gagging. I sit up and shout out his name, trying to get him to fully wake up. His eyes open but he doesn't seem to be aware of where he is or able to focus. As I look across at the clock I realise I have only been asleep for an hour. He heaves again, and again I shout his name and jump off the bed and try to pull him up by his shoulders, that’s when I notice he has blood on the back of his shirt, but before I have a chance to think too much about it he is pushing himself up off the bed. His eyes are unfocused and looking all over the place.
“Gabe, get up, let's get you in the bathroom.”
“Lauren – I'm gonna vomit.”
“Get up Gabe. Move.”
I help him up and stagger with him to the en suite and lift the toilet seat up just as he starts to spew. He assumes the crouching position as he noisily heaves and I heave a couple of times along with him. I have a very weak stomach and have always heaved along with the kids when they have been sick. Even my toothbrush too far down my throat makes me gag. It's one of the reasons I have always avoided blow jobs – until now!
I get a flannel from the shelf and run it under the cold tap and kneel next to him, cooling the back of his neck with it. He finally stops throwing up and sits back against the wall. There's not a lot of room in the toilet, so I sit on his lap and wipe around his face and mouth with the face cloth. His eyes are closed and his head is leaning to one side. Even in this state he's beautiful and my stomach churns when I recall the fact that he wants to marry me. Me? Why? Why me? I push his hair back off his face and kiss his forehead and his nose. He lifts his arm and runs his hand over my head and across my cheek, I start to smile when he suddenly grabs my chin quite hard and opens his eyes and try's to focus on mine.
“You don't want me do you? Why are you here? I thought you would be gone, I thought you would go and leave me. Why are you still here?”
What? What is he talking about? I only said I wouldn't marry him. I never said anything about leaving him. I can't reply as he is still holding my jaw, I uncurl his fingers from my chin but keep hold of his hand.
“What are talking about Gabe? I'm going nowhere. You're stuck with me forever. Even though you are a f*cking dick head sometimes.”
His eyes are closed again and he just laughs a little. His shoulders shaking up and down as he does.
“You sound so English when you’re angry Lauren, all Essex and gangsta.”
“I was never gangsta Gabe, we were long gone before kids started talking like that round our way. I’m just plain ol’ common.”
“Nothing common about you baby, nothing at all.”
“Thank you, but you’re very drunk right now. Would you like some water?” I ask him and he nods. I go out to the kitchen and fill a tall glass with crushed ice and filtered water from the fridge, as I head back to the bedroom, I can hear him throwing up again.
Shit, this is going be a long night, I pick the face cloth up from the edge of the sink where I left it and once again run it under the cold tap. I wait for him to stop retching before I re-join him in the toilet. He's leaning back against the wall, his eyes still closed, his dark eyelashes fanning out across the tops of his cheeks. Even looking pale and grey, I can't help but want him, I reach out and run my fingertips over the stubble on his jaw and chin. My eyes close and my cheeks burn as I think about the places I felt this over me. I open my eyes and he's staring at me.
“You came back.”
“Of course I came back, I only went to get you some water, you div,” I say with a smile.
“Here, drink this.”
“You say the funniest words sometimes. What’s a div?”
“It means I love you. Drink your water” It so doesn’t mean that, but he won’t even remember this conversation in the morning so I think I’m safe.
I lift his hand and wrap it around the glass and watch as he drinks the lot down, I take the glass from him and wash his face with the cold flannel again, pushing his hair back off his face once more as I do. His hand comes up around the back of my head and he pulls me to him.
“I'm sorry Lauren. I'm so, so sorry, I just, I just love you, I tried not to because I knew I would f*ck it all up, but I can't help it, I can't not love you but I’m sorry for being so shit at it, I’m sorry for not being what you deserve.”
He starts to cry, and I hate it, hate that I have caused this; because of me he went and got himself in this state. The alcohol is obviously still having an effect on his emotions, so I hold him and sooth him as best I can as I sit on his lap, as he sits on the floor of the toilet. I only move when he needs to be sick, or needs more water, or to run the flannel under the tap. Other than that we just sit there, drifting in and out of sleep until the birds start singing. And as I stir, I realise he hasn't been sick for at least a couple of hours, so taking a chance he won’t vomit again, I get him up and back into bed. I switch both our phones to silent. And draw the blinds so the room is in almost complete darkness and climb up onto the bed with him. My head on his chest and my arm on his belly and drift off into a much needed sleep.