Coda (Songs of Submission #9)(41)

“Monica”—his voice got serious—“really. This is not going to work.”

I put my hands on the arms of the chair and leaned forward until my nose was an inch from his. “You smell like baby powder.”

“And you smell like you want to piss me off.”

“Trust me.” I placed his hands on the arms of the chair, laying them flat. “I won’t tie you up or hurt you. That’s mine. But I want you to stay still. That’s all.” I pulled my scarf off.

“Better watch it with that thing,” he said. “I know how to use it.”

I got behind him and tied it around his eyes.

“Monica?”

“Jonathan?”

“I’m not turned on.”

“You will be.”

I peeled my clothes off quickly. I’d showered but taken no effort to scrub off the Sharpie. I was still marked with his name and the location of his baby. I took a deep breath. He tapped his finger, mouth set in a tight line. Not turned on. Almost frightening in his stress. He really didn’t like taking orders. But he would love this. I turned my naked back to him, facing the Mondrian over the fireplace, and crossed my arms over my abdomen. I didn’t know how long I would last. I felt like a bottle of soda someone had shaken but left sealed.

“Take the blindfold off,” I said. I heard a rustle behind me.

“You have a great ass.”

I turned, fully nude, and after half a second, I moved my arms to my sides. His eyes worked their way from my face, to my tits, hardening them without even touching them, and down my body until he stopped where I’d written Jonathan’s baby.

“Really?” he said.

“Really.”

He laughed. Not a laugh of humor or derision, just delight. Pure, childlike delight. I had to laugh with him. I got on my knees and crawled to him, still laughing, and he kissed me all over: my cheeks, my forehead, my neck. His hands went everywhere, as if touching all the parts he loved, then he kissed my mouth, long, hard, and deep.

“Thank you,” he said, breaking the kiss for half a second before putting his lips on me again.

“No problem.” It was the least I could say, a joke of miniature proportions.

“You know you wrote it backward, right?”

I leaned back and looked at my abdomen.

“Is it because you have your doubts?” he asked.

“No. I did it in the mirror.”

He pushed against me until my back was on the wool rug, and he was over me like an unclouded sky.

“Are you happy?” he asked.

I put my hands on his cheeks. “I didn’t think I would be. But I don’t know. I’m just elated. I feel like I’m walking on air.”

He put my hands over my head and kissed me. “I want to say thank you over and over. I find myself at a loss for words otherwise.”

“Don’t speak. Just f*ck me.”

“I want you, I love you, you’re mine.” He said it all in a string, as if it was one thought. “Do we need a bigger house?”

“This is plenty of space.”

“We have to ask Sheila what schools to apply to.”

“We can worry about that later.”

“The wait lists for preschools are four years long.”

“That’s obscene.”

“I have to set up a trust and fund it. Tomorrow I’ll call Margie and have it done.”

My face wasn’t supposed to tighten, but I feared it did, so I just spoke my mind. “The Swiss thing. You need to promise me you’re going to fund that. Before the trusts.”

“The trust is easier.”

“I don’t care if the kid grows up poor. I care that it has a father.”

“Hope is deadly.”

“Maybe. But tell me you don’t have a little bit now? Or some reason to hope you’re not taking a bunch of pills just so you can f*ck me harder and more often? Don’t you want to try? I mean, look, think of it this way. Maybe you’ll save someone else.”

“Monica, you don’t know what this does to me. The idea of leaving you alone. I’ve been, I think, afraid to make you happy because of what we both know is coming.”

I brushed my finger across the scruff on his cheek, this living man, blood beating through him as he scratched and clawed to be reasonable, sensible, and mature while still living life corner to corner. I’d thought I understood his struggle, but I didn’t. I thought he just wanted to live or die. I thought he just wanted to be in the moment and not worry, but he’d carried the weight of his own life alongside the weight of mine.

“All I want is for you to try,” I said. “Let me and the baby know we’re worth you fighting for your life.”

He smiled ruefully. “You make compelling arguments. When we met, I thought you were studying law.”

“Because I threatened to sue you?”

“It was cute. You were so sexy, the way you tried to back me into a corner. I wanted to bend you over that desk and spank you raw. The minute I laid eyes on you, I wanted to f*ck you until you begged.”

“Do it now.”

He kissed the space between my breasts. “You came when you weren’t supposed to. I had plans, but I don’t think I can follow through on them.”