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Authors: Marie Sexton
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the door…suddenly, there had been Jin. She could barely get her skirt up fast enough. He could remember so clearly the way she’d clutched at him, the way her legs had been wrapped tight around his hips, the way she’d panted into his ear, “Take me, Simon. Take me, take me, take me.”
And he had. And it had been glorious. That was the part he hated the most. If he could look back and say he hadn’t followed through, or that he hadn’t enjoyed it, or even that he’d had a moment of guilt before he lost himself in her flesh, it might have been different. But the truth was, he’d been nineteen, horny and frustrated as hell. Fucking Jin had been momentous. For the first time in weeks, he’d felt vital and alive. Jin hadn’t been a virgin. There was no doubt in his mind. She’d lain back, panting and crying his name as he’d fucked her, and he’d loved every single second of it.
Right up until Lena walked through the door.
“I was drunk, and I was a fool, and I wasn’t noticing how much noise we were making until Lena caught us. The way she looked at me. It was pure hatred, not just ‘cause I’d broken my marriage vow to her, but like what I was doing with Jin was the same as what those men had done to her.
“I spent the whole next day outside her door. I apologised, and then I begged. And then I got defensive and angry. I can’t even tell you all the awful things I said, telling her it was her fault I’d cheated. Calling her frigid.” He shook his head. “I’m not proud of that. Finally, I went to bed. Thing is, my boat was leaving the next morning. She’d quit working at her father’s shop, and we were barely getting by on what I made. I sure as hell couldn’t afford to miss it. So I left. It was a three-day trip, out and back, and when I finally got home, I went to her door, and I knocked. And for the first time ever, she said, ‘Come in.’” He shook his head. He’d shed his tears long ago, but it still caused his heart to ache. “She had the fever. Seeing her there, I realised how much she’d changed from that girl I’d vowed to marry so many months before. I’d known she was barely eating, but seeing her there wearing just a nightgown, I realised she was just bone.”
“It’s not your fault,” Frances said. “I know that’s what you think, but what happened with Jin has nothing to do with the fever.”
“It was my fault for not being a better husband. It was my fault for not realising how weak she was. It was my fault that I hurt her, and then I left, and she just lay there in her bed, wasting away of fever. If I’d done better, she might not have got sick at all.”
“She died.” It wasn’t a question.
“Two days later. I missed my next boat and lost my job, but I didn’t care. I sat there, and I apologised until my voice was gone. I begged her to stay. I begged her to get better. I promised her the world—everything I could think of. We’d leave Holtshire. I told her we could leave Oestend, that I’d take her back to the continent, because she’d always wanted to see Lanstead. And at the very end, when I realised she was never going to get out of that bed, I sobbed and I told her I’d never love another woman again.”
“Simon—”
“I told her I’d never be with another woman again.”
He took a deep breath and let it out, relieved to finally be done. He felt torn up and wrung out. He would have killed for a drink.
“You were nineteen,” Frances said at last. “I don’t think she would expect you to—”
“It doesn’t matter! It doesn’t matter what she expected! What matters is what I vowed. What matters is what was in my heart when I said the words. Don’t tell me I have a right to break that vow just ‘cause I get horny.”
Frances didn’t answer. They sat in silence for what seemed an impossibly long time. Finally, Frances stood up. He went to the rough wooden cabinet that held his things. He reached way in the back, digging behind shirts and worn
And he had. And it had been glorious. That was the part he hated the most. If he could look back and say he hadn’t followed through, or that he hadn’t enjoyed it, or even that he’d had a moment of guilt before he lost himself in her flesh, it might have been different. But the truth was, he’d been nineteen, horny and frustrated as hell. Fucking Jin had been momentous. For the first time in weeks, he’d felt vital and alive. Jin hadn’t been a virgin. There was no doubt in his mind. She’d lain back, panting and crying his name as he’d fucked her, and he’d loved every single second of it.
Right up until Lena walked through the door.
“I was drunk, and I was a fool, and I wasn’t noticing how much noise we were making until Lena caught us. The way she looked at me. It was pure hatred, not just ‘cause I’d broken my marriage vow to her, but like what I was doing with Jin was the same as what those men had done to her.
“I spent the whole next day outside her door. I apologised, and then I begged. And then I got defensive and angry. I can’t even tell you all the awful things I said, telling her it was her fault I’d cheated. Calling her frigid.” He shook his head. “I’m not proud of that. Finally, I went to bed. Thing is, my boat was leaving the next morning. She’d quit working at her father’s shop, and we were barely getting by on what I made. I sure as hell couldn’t afford to miss it. So I left. It was a three-day trip, out and back, and when I finally got home, I went to her door, and I knocked. And for the first time ever, she said, ‘Come in.’” He shook his head. He’d shed his tears long ago, but it still caused his heart to ache. “She had the fever. Seeing her there, I realised how much she’d changed from that girl I’d vowed to marry so many months before. I’d known she was barely eating, but seeing her there wearing just a nightgown, I realised she was just bone.”
“It’s not your fault,” Frances said. “I know that’s what you think, but what happened with Jin has nothing to do with the fever.”
“It was my fault for not being a better husband. It was my fault for not realising how weak she was. It was my fault that I hurt her, and then I left, and she just lay there in her bed, wasting away of fever. If I’d done better, she might not have got sick at all.”
“She died.” It wasn’t a question.
“Two days later. I missed my next boat and lost my job, but I didn’t care. I sat there, and I apologised until my voice was gone. I begged her to stay. I begged her to get better. I promised her the world—everything I could think of. We’d leave Holtshire. I told her we could leave Oestend, that I’d take her back to the continent, because she’d always wanted to see Lanstead. And at the very end, when I realised she was never going to get out of that bed, I sobbed and I told her I’d never love another woman again.”
“Simon—”
“I told her I’d never be with another woman again.”
He took a deep breath and let it out, relieved to finally be done. He felt torn up and wrung out. He would have killed for a drink.
“You were nineteen,” Frances said at last. “I don’t think she would expect you to—”
“It doesn’t matter! It doesn’t matter what she expected! What matters is what I vowed. What matters is what was in my heart when I said the words. Don’t tell me I have a right to break that vow just ‘cause I get horny.”
Frances didn’t answer. They sat in silence for what seemed an impossibly long time. Finally, Frances stood up. He went to the rough wooden cabinet that held his things. He reached way in the back, digging behind shirts and worn
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