Consequences(103)

His tone was remorseful and sincere, “I’m sorry for your accident.” She didn’t respond and looked away from his eyes. He continued, “Yes, I admit what happened that night was me. I admit I lost control—something which doesn’t usually happen. I admit I feel terrible—and Catherine has made me feel worse. I admit I was beyond furious with you and the article by Meredith Banks. I wasn’t thinking straight.” His eyes were getting darker. “I trusted you. I believed you wouldn’t betray my confidence and then—” His shoulders stiffened and then relaxed. “Claire, I would do anything to have that night to do over.”

They stood by the car, no longer touching. The breeze gently rustled the tall grass, blew wisps of hair around her face, and filled her lungs with the smell of impending winter. Claire watched his expression as he spoke. It had been so long since she’d felt anything. Suddenly, she fought the rapid mixture of emotions stirring inside of her.

*

Tony watched as her eyes, which had been dull and dead. They now contained a small spark.

“Tony, I remember. I remember what you were doing and saying. I remember you saying I would need to be alone for a while—to think about who to talk to and who not to talk to.” Tony nodded his head. He’d said that. Claire’s eyes brimmed with tears. “Is that still coming?”

He reached for her shoulders. He intended to be gentle, but Claire backed away—tripped—and fell onto the ground.

*

His eyes said tender but she remembered anger. She didn’t know what to think or feel. Not feeling was so much easier. Confusion, apprehension, anger, and dread all bubbled up inside of her. From Tony’s expression, they also showed in her eyes.

He followed her to the ground. “Claire, please stop.” He knelt beside her. “No—that isn’t coming. I don’t think you need any more reminders on how to behave, do you?”

Barely audible, she replied, “No—no I don’t.”

“Claire, may I please touch you?”

Her trembling resumed. Sobs again resonated from her chest.

His voice, still gentle was also firm, “You know I don’t need your permission to touch you. I don’t need your permission to do anything.”

Claire’s eyes closed as she tried to swallow her sobs. She nodded her head knowing too well her permission wasn’t necessary.

“But, I’d like to have it. Please, may I have your consent?”

She braced herself and opened her eyes. She looked at him, his expression, and his eyes. She closed her eyes again and meekly replied, “Okay.”

He scooted next to her, sitting on the cold hard ground, and softly placed his arm around her back. She tried to hide the tension, but she couldn’t control her anxiety at his touch. He gently bent down and tenderly kissed her lips, very lightly brushing his lips against hers. She didn’t back away. His mellow tone whispered near her ear, “Have I told you how much I like the highlights in your hair?” She shook her head. He lightly stroked her hair. “I think you’re amazing. You’re so strong and resilient. I don’t deserve your forgiveness for what I did, but you deserve to hear me ask for it.”

She didn’t want to look at him. Her emotions were too raw—she wanted to forgive him.

He didn’t touch her, instead he moved himself in front of her so they were eye to eye. “Claire, I’m sorry I hurt you.” She felt the tears as she tried to maintain eye contact. He gently took her hands. “I ask that one day you’ll consider forgiving me.”