Redemption(40)

13





Chapter Thirteen





Past





We had moments of greatness after Joshua’s death, but they were few and far between. Matt was stuck in a purgatory of indecision, or maybe it wasn’t indecision so much as his reluctance to let go. We’d been together half of our lives and had known each other the other half. Generations of our families had lived in this same small town, and everyone we knew was thrilled when we’d announced our engagement. The ring still sat on my left finger, and I still twirled it without thought, but it no longer represented our future. It now signified the burden of our past.

I wanted to believe we could get through this, that’s what marriage would have been. Had this happened months later, we would have been legally bound, but now there was an option. He had a choice to make, and with each day that passed, it appeared he was going to let the government make it for him by taking him away from the problem. I knew he couldn’t ignore deployment, or tell them he was struggling personally and ask if he could go next time, but it was more evident he was biding his time.

We co-existed during the day. He wasn’t comfortable with people seeing us together, so we never did anything outside of the house, and my lawyer had suggested I try to stay put and out of the limelight, anyhow. The problem was, the only moments of glory were in the evening when he’d come into the guest room late at night. I shouldn’t have enjoyed it, I shouldn’t have looked forward to it, but I did. It was the only intimacy that remained in my life. The isolation was almost unbearable, and sex with Matt was my only comfort.

It didn’t matter how dismal our day had been, how much we fought, or the cruel things he’d said about my taking Joshua. The insults he hurled in his grief were all forgiven under the cloak of darkness. I felt like a heroin addict jonesing for her next fix. I’d lie awake for hours waiting for him to give in and come to me. Whether it was a grudge fuck, or his attempt to heal us by making love, I no longer cared. I accepted the pain with as much enthusiasm as I did the pleasure. An angry pounding was penance for the grief I’d caused, the sensual touch was God’s mercy. I could justify either but didn’t care which I got as long as he showed up. And he did, every night.

Every time Matt had been deployed, sleep had always been his biggest obstacle. When he was under a lot of stress, he couldn’t rest without me—like I was a security blanket. That remained true, but now I wondered if that was the only reason he was still holding on.

When he lifted the blankets behind me, I wasn’t sure which version of my fiancé was going to roll me over. I never knew until the light of the moon illuminated his face, and I could see his eyes. Tonight, there were sorrow-filled, and I knew he’d be gentle. He’d care for me the way he used to every time we had sex. He stroked my cheek and smoothed my hair. His eyes searched my face as though he might find the answer to our problem hidden in my freckles. I leaned toward him, gently caressing his lips with mine until he opened to allow me to savor his kiss.

Our tongues danced, and our bodies moved closer eliminating the space between us. The pads of my fingers traced the lines of his body slowly, wooing him with my touch. I knew the places on his frame that held the most pleasure and used them to my advantage. When he came to me like this, we united the way we always had—perfectly. He pulled away, kissing a path down my neck, along my collarbone, and to my breast before sucking my hardened peak into his mouth. The way his tongue swirled and his teeth nipped sent chills down my arms and warmth between my legs. I wanted him but refused to rush him. The sooner we found our release, the sooner he would slide away again. I savored these nights because I never knew if another would come or when.

He rolled me onto my back and made love to me missionary style, professing his devotion to me through whispered words until we both climaxed. I knew in his heart, Matt wanted to find the road back to us, but with each passing day, it got harder. I begged him to go to counseling, but he refused because he was afraid he’d lose his security clearances if the Army believed he was depressed.

I wanted to yell at him, Newsflash! You are! I asked my lawyer for the names of counselors since he was the only person I felt safe talking to and also happened to be the only one who returned any of my calls. He was happy to give me a list of doctors but warned me in cases like these, medical records could be subpoenaed. I wasn’t sure what they would find that would be unexpected. I had no previous history of mental illness, I wasn’t saying I hadn’t killed him, so the only thing a lawyer would find was my sadness. Hell, at this point, I’d talk directly to the District Attorney just to have an outlet. I knew I’d killed him, I would carry that guilt for the rest of my life, but I just needed one ally to keep from going insane.

Matt promptly fell asleep with remnants of me still on his skin and his come leaking from between my legs. But I didn’t get up. Instead, I stared out the window at the stars and wondered if Joshua could see them too. Insomnia was taking a toll on me, or maybe death had—either way, I was afraid I was beginning to lose mental clarity. I’d never been suicidal, but I started visualizing my own destruction. The fear in my dreams had become worse than the truth of my reality. I saw Joshua’s casket when I was awake, and I swung from a rope when I slept.

As soon as the sun came up, I eased out of bed hoping not to rouse Matt. The shower helped to awaken my senses, but they dulled as quickly as I got out. The downward spiral was spinning faster than it ever had and was gaining speed. Either I found a way to slow it down, or I wouldn’t make it to court. With Matt still asleep in the guest room, I padded down the hall past the closed door, to the room I’d spent hours making music in. The piano was far too loud to drown my sorrows in this early in the morning, but my violin sat in the case on the bench begging to be let out. I didn’t deserve the reprieve, but at the heart of us all, survival is a basic human instinct.