Read Online Bedtime Confessions (The Chambermaid's Tales - Short Stories) by Sarah Michelle Lynch - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Sarah Michelle Lynch
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chin with humour, like he always did. He peddled a few yards on the gravel track we were on and he fell, and I wondered, Is he putting it on? Is this a joke?
I ran to him and he chuckled. I kissed his mouth and we fell back, laughing an d rolling in the white, chalky ground.
“ Get back in the saddle, big boy,” I joked.
After maybe two or three more attempts of him falling and me laughing, followed by us kissing and embracing , he rode as if he had never not been able to ride.
“ Good, let's go,” I remember saying, as if it were nothing. He had learnt, just like that. And yes, when you think about it, riding is so easy as long as you can do it.
“When I went over that episode again with my therapist, he asked whether I wondered something that day ‒ whether my lover might have had a traumatic experience with bikes in the past. I hadn't considered it at the time. Either that, or, I hadn't wanted to consider that.
“ I grew up dreaming of the man on the white horse, the man in leathers and breeches, who might throw me on the saddle with him and ride me off into the sunset. I dreamt that if I were to marry, it would be for nothing less than the fantasy I had always wanted. The dream. The man of my dreams.
“ I loved Him. I really did. He set my heart alight, he set my world on fire.
“ But in therapy, there were other things I remembered, as I took my mind back. He never liked whipping me if I asked him to, but he really liked me whipping him. In fact, I disliked how much he liked me to whip him. There was something unnerving about it, but I was in the mode of just trying to please him. He loved me so, so well, oh so well. Yet he couldn't make the commitment for some reason.
“ Whenever I asked him about his family, his divorce, his life before me… he clammed up. He could never tell me. His way of making love was so gentle and still, he could make me scream until I cried. He would tell me the most romantic things I had ever heard. Yet he could not open up about his life before me. But, I needed to get beneath my man. I never did believe he really wanted me. I couldn't until he trusted me enough to tell me things. But my therapist suggested the secrets he hides are just too awful to talk about. So you see, maybe I am waiting for that day. Maybe I want him to read the book, see my truth, and seek help for himself. Of his own accord. It has to be that way otherwise he will never help himself. He has to want to do it, like I did. Maybe I cannot bear to be there when he starts ridding himself of all the bad things that happened in his life before me.”
I stop speed talking and Florence frowns. She clasps her hands together and purses her lips, thinking it all through.
“ His father was a strange man, Lottie. I could never tell whether he was charming or manipulative. One of the two.”
“ From the outside, people might assume I am cold. I left him behind so callously. But in therapy, you are forced to face all those things you would normally ignore… That day, you should have seem him, Flo. He was like a little child. My huge man like a nervous little boy. It must have been something bad, something traumatic, that made him fear that bike. An inanimate object that could neither bite nor bark back… aroused the fear of something inside him.”
“ Tell me what happened. I mean, when you rode away… what happened next?”
Flo was grinning. She was fishing for more.
“I will tell you… it was good.”
We rode up into Sherwood and locked the bikes up. He had struggled the whole way. He wasn't used to the peddling. I felt a pang in my heart and I really loved him, just a little bit more that day. Seeing him vulnerable made me love him so much more.
He dropped the picnic bag on the ground and raced at me. He was so gorgeous because I was in love with him. The way he kissed me and touched me had me entranced. I adored his affectionate, passionate soul. Something told me he had hidden depths and
I ran to him and he chuckled. I kissed his mouth and we fell back, laughing an d rolling in the white, chalky ground.
“ Get back in the saddle, big boy,” I joked.
After maybe two or three more attempts of him falling and me laughing, followed by us kissing and embracing , he rode as if he had never not been able to ride.
“ Good, let's go,” I remember saying, as if it were nothing. He had learnt, just like that. And yes, when you think about it, riding is so easy as long as you can do it.
“When I went over that episode again with my therapist, he asked whether I wondered something that day ‒ whether my lover might have had a traumatic experience with bikes in the past. I hadn't considered it at the time. Either that, or, I hadn't wanted to consider that.
“ I grew up dreaming of the man on the white horse, the man in leathers and breeches, who might throw me on the saddle with him and ride me off into the sunset. I dreamt that if I were to marry, it would be for nothing less than the fantasy I had always wanted. The dream. The man of my dreams.
“ I loved Him. I really did. He set my heart alight, he set my world on fire.
“ But in therapy, there were other things I remembered, as I took my mind back. He never liked whipping me if I asked him to, but he really liked me whipping him. In fact, I disliked how much he liked me to whip him. There was something unnerving about it, but I was in the mode of just trying to please him. He loved me so, so well, oh so well. Yet he couldn't make the commitment for some reason.
“ Whenever I asked him about his family, his divorce, his life before me… he clammed up. He could never tell me. His way of making love was so gentle and still, he could make me scream until I cried. He would tell me the most romantic things I had ever heard. Yet he could not open up about his life before me. But, I needed to get beneath my man. I never did believe he really wanted me. I couldn't until he trusted me enough to tell me things. But my therapist suggested the secrets he hides are just too awful to talk about. So you see, maybe I am waiting for that day. Maybe I want him to read the book, see my truth, and seek help for himself. Of his own accord. It has to be that way otherwise he will never help himself. He has to want to do it, like I did. Maybe I cannot bear to be there when he starts ridding himself of all the bad things that happened in his life before me.”
I stop speed talking and Florence frowns. She clasps her hands together and purses her lips, thinking it all through.
“ His father was a strange man, Lottie. I could never tell whether he was charming or manipulative. One of the two.”
“ From the outside, people might assume I am cold. I left him behind so callously. But in therapy, you are forced to face all those things you would normally ignore… That day, you should have seem him, Flo. He was like a little child. My huge man like a nervous little boy. It must have been something bad, something traumatic, that made him fear that bike. An inanimate object that could neither bite nor bark back… aroused the fear of something inside him.”
“ Tell me what happened. I mean, when you rode away… what happened next?”
Flo was grinning. She was fishing for more.
“I will tell you… it was good.”
We rode up into Sherwood and locked the bikes up. He had struggled the whole way. He wasn't used to the peddling. I felt a pang in my heart and I really loved him, just a little bit more that day. Seeing him vulnerable made me love him so much more.
He dropped the picnic bag on the ground and raced at me. He was so gorgeous because I was in love with him. The way he kissed me and touched me had me entranced. I adored his affectionate, passionate soul. Something told me he had hidden depths and
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