Sassafras, Part 33

Joan


When I rolled over to turn off the alarm I saw Rick sleeping next to me. I couldn’t believe he was there. It all came back to me in a rush, the good and the bad. I lay there thinking about all that I had learned about him last night. A criminal. An ex-con. Not even smart enough to not get caught. I thought of his ex-wife and two kids, playing on a beach in California somewhere, his very existence long since forgotten. I realized none of that mattered. He was here with me now, and I was glad. I watched him sleep, and wondered how I was ever going to leave. I couldn’t imagine going back to New York, waking up alone every morning. I already regretted saying yes to him when he asked me out, but at least I had the memory of last night locked away deep inside.

I remembered how angry I had been when I learned about his prison record, and how much it had hurt when he told me about his wife and children. It hurt so much I felt cold inside, broken. What more do you expect from some stranger you picked up in a bar, I had asked myself. I didn’t want to look at him, or listen to him, and was ashamed I had ever kissed him. But I did listen to him, and looked at him, and there was so much pain in his eyes I couldn’t bear it. No matter what he had done, he didn’t deserve having his children just ripped out of his life like that. It wasn't fair, and I could see it was killing him.

I can honestly say I had never seen a grown man cry. I heard my dad cry once when he hit his hand with a hammer. He broke three bones in his hand and had to go to the hospital, but I had never actually seen a grown man cry. Rick looked like he was about to. I reached over and touched his shoulder, pulled him close and felt him start to shake. He never made a sound, but I could feel his tears where his face was buried in my hair. I told him everything was going to be okay, ran my fingers through his hair and tried to kiss his tears away.

Eventually he stopped shaking. I looked in his eyes and it felt like I could see his soul. I didn’t care about his prison record, or his ex-wife, or what might happen tomorrow. All I cared about was him. I wanted to kiss him, wrap my arms around him and never let go. I wanted to see him smile, hear him laugh. We kissed, and I felt his hands move across my body, pulling me closer. I had never felt so alive, so aware of every cell in my body before. It felt like a sleeping tiger I never knew existed inside me had suddenly come alive.

He pushed me back onto the couch and stretched out next to me. I could feel his body pressing against mine, his hands and mouth warm and tender. I turned on my side and pulled him even closer, wrapped my leg around his. I felt his hand slide down my back and onto my leg, pushing my skirt up my thigh. I wanted to be his completely, body and soul, but not like that, tangled up on the couch. I wanted it to be perfect, with room to stretch and move and explore. I whispered for him to stop, and felt him freeze. “If you want to stop,” he said, “I need to leave. I can’t stay. Not like this.”

“Get up,” I whispered and sat up. He looked at me for a moment, then got up. I walked to the door and locked it, then turned and saw him putting on his coat. I couldn’t understand why. Did he want to leave? I didn’t want him to leave. I would have begged him to stay. The thought of him leaving was like a knife twisting inside me. Had I done something wrong? Maybe I had been coming on too strong, maybe I scared him away. I frantically tried to think of what I had done, what I had said, and suddenly I saw it from his eyes. I told him to stop, made him get up, and then walked to the door. He must have thought I was trying to get rid of him. I was so relieved I almost laughed.

I kissed him again, but he felt tense. I pushed his coat off his shoulders and whispered that I had just been locking the door. He looked like he was afraid to believe me, so I took his hand and started walking toward the bedroom. I couldn’t wait to feel his body pressed up against me again, but this time it would be different. Better. I wanted to feel his skin, not his clothes. I shivered and started unbuttoning my blouse even before I got to the bedroom.

I felt like I knew what I was doing, but when he closed the door behind us and pulled me back, wrapping his arms around me, I knew I had just jumped in way over my head. He slipped the strap of my bra down and started kissing my neck, my shoulder. My knees were shaking like they were made of rubber. I had to lean back against him and hold onto his arms. It felt like I was falling. No, more like I was flying. I felt his hand on my cheek, and then we were kissing. I felt that little tiger inside me suddenly break free. I twisted in his arms and pushed him against the door, kissing him like my life depended on it. My hands started clawing at his shirt, trying to unbutton it, but I wanted to just rip it open and watch the buttons fly across the room.

I smiled as I remembered last night. Even in my wildest fantasies I never imagined anything could be so perfect. If I could go back in time and relive one moment, I would relive that night. Even if all I could relive was just waking up that morning and seeing him sleeping next to me, I would relive that moment for the rest of eternity. I wanted to wake him up, to kiss him and feel his arms around me, but first I just wanted to watch him sleep and try to convince myself that I hadn’t just made a big mistake. How could I ever go back to New York? I thought about going to Chachi’s with Maria and meeting her cousins. I might as well stay home and read a book because I knew none of her cousins would be able to take my mind off Rick.

He rolled over and the covers fell off his shoulders. I looked at him, and remembered how it had felt to be with him, arms and legs wrapped up together. The few times I had been involved with anyone in New York hadn't been that way. Either the guy had turned out to be a loser pretty quickly, or our schedules hadn't matched and we ended up rushing through our time together. Wham, bam, thank you, ma’am. It hadn't been any better with the boys in school. It had always been awkward and hurried, always worrying about getting caught, or getting pregnant.

Shit. Pregnant. I hadn’t thought about that. I wasn’t on any kind of birth control. It didn’t make sense to take any when the only way I could get pregnant involved an angel and three wise men. I didn’t think Rick had put on a condom, but everything was kind of blurry. I tried to remember the math Jenny taught me. She said it was called the rhythm method of birth control. You had to count back and forth between your last two periods, calculating when your fertile dates were. It wasn’t as reliable as the pill, but more reliable than the rabbit’s foot method, where you just rubbed a rabbit’s foot and hoped you didn’t get pregnant. I just couldn’t remember the numbers you were supposed to use. Did sperm live two days, or was it four? How long does an egg last before it goes bad?

What was I going to do if I got pregnant? A baby in New York would be a nightmare. I’d seen woman with babies, lugging around strollers or baby seats, great big bags full of diapers and whatever else babies need hanging off their shoulders. Only the lucky ones had husbands or boyfriends along helping carry stuff. I wouldn’t be one of the lucky ones. I would be one of the lonely ones. Oh well, like Scarlet said, tomorrow is another day. If a miracle happened and I got pregnant I would deal with that later.