I knew I should get up and console him and let him know
that it was nothing he’d done. My fracturing was not one of his making. But I
couldn’t claw my way out of the darkness that encompassed me. And honestly, I
didn’t want to.
At some point I must have drifted off,
because the next thing I knew the darkness was real and filtering in through my
windows. I stretched and rolled over, momentarily forgetting myself. I looked
about the room, noticing the broken glass winking in the moonlight. I
remembered and the pain crested with renewed vengeance.
I didn’t care where my husband had gone.
The only person I sought was Maribel and she was god-knows where.
So I did the only thing I could. I
closed my eyes and willed the memories of her to take over.
I pictured myself in the bath at her
house, her almond face looming over me, smiling. Her hands lathered my arm,
brushing my breast while the smile on her face told me that she’d done it on
purpose. She was teasing me.
The scent of lavender in the air. Steam
rising from my exposed skin. Her hands, soft as ribbons, worked over my body.
I sighed, feeling the familiar heat
building between my legs. My dream-Maribel trailed her fingers over my collar
bone, between my breasts, around the curve of my hip before looping across my
bikini line. She pushed her face close to mine, our mouths inches apart. I
strained to reach her, but she just smiled and pulled back ever so slightly, a
twinkle in her eye.
Before I could question what she was up
to, Maribel dipped one manicured finger into the bubbles and into my folds. She
parted my cleft and found me slick with desire. She feathered her touch around
and around, never quite getting to the one spot I needed her to. Toying,
teasing. I arched my hips toward her, hoping to end my glorious torture.
“Please!” I cried as my hands clutched
the sides of the tub.
Her raven hair cascaded over my face as
she leaned in to kiss me. Mouths parted slightly, we shared the same breath as
her hands pressed down harder on my sex. I sucked her lip into my mouth and
wrapped my hands around her. She slid one finger inside me and I lost it.
I awoke to realize three awful things:
it had all been a dream, I was clutching the bed sheets and panting as my groin
tightened with aftershocks, and lastly, my husband was standing at the foot of
our marital bed with such a disgusted look on his face that I knew he knew .
September
2011
(Present Day)
––––––––
T he past two years have altered me, in
an irrevocable fashion and with iron-clad finality. I found, and then lost, the
one thing that I’d never known was missing from my life—my one great love. My
twin flame, so to speak.
It’s been over a year since I last spoke
to Maribel, but only hours since I last thought of her.
Time does heal, but it’s been a slow
process and leaves me battle weary at the end of each and every day. I witness
my life, down to the minutia of daily living, through a glassine barrier, which
distorts even the most recognizable moments. Like looking through Vaseline
covered glasses.
I may have survived the turn of events,
but my marriage did not. Faced with a wife he no longer recognized, my husband
left me and the house we’d shared for nearly a decade. And I’d hardly noticed
or cared.
Today is one of my better days.
I managed to get out of bed before noon,
dress myself, down a cup of black coffee and took myself to the mall. I needed
a day of window-shopping to distract myself, sure, but mostly I needed a day
outside of my house—which overlooked her house. Even though Lucas had
packed it in and abandoned his life here a month ago, I still saw Maribel in
every errant bloom poking through the overgrowth, behind every shadowed window,
on the porch swing in the moments where the wind buffeted it just so.
So I’ve been wandering aimlessly about
the mall for a few hours. I look at the fashionable window displays, but I
don’t really see anything.
that it was nothing he’d done. My fracturing was not one of his making. But I
couldn’t claw my way out of the darkness that encompassed me. And honestly, I
didn’t want to.
At some point I must have drifted off,
because the next thing I knew the darkness was real and filtering in through my
windows. I stretched and rolled over, momentarily forgetting myself. I looked
about the room, noticing the broken glass winking in the moonlight. I
remembered and the pain crested with renewed vengeance.
I didn’t care where my husband had gone.
The only person I sought was Maribel and she was god-knows where.
So I did the only thing I could. I
closed my eyes and willed the memories of her to take over.
I pictured myself in the bath at her
house, her almond face looming over me, smiling. Her hands lathered my arm,
brushing my breast while the smile on her face told me that she’d done it on
purpose. She was teasing me.
The scent of lavender in the air. Steam
rising from my exposed skin. Her hands, soft as ribbons, worked over my body.
I sighed, feeling the familiar heat
building between my legs. My dream-Maribel trailed her fingers over my collar
bone, between my breasts, around the curve of my hip before looping across my
bikini line. She pushed her face close to mine, our mouths inches apart. I
strained to reach her, but she just smiled and pulled back ever so slightly, a
twinkle in her eye.
Before I could question what she was up
to, Maribel dipped one manicured finger into the bubbles and into my folds. She
parted my cleft and found me slick with desire. She feathered her touch around
and around, never quite getting to the one spot I needed her to. Toying,
teasing. I arched my hips toward her, hoping to end my glorious torture.
“Please!” I cried as my hands clutched
the sides of the tub.
Her raven hair cascaded over my face as
she leaned in to kiss me. Mouths parted slightly, we shared the same breath as
her hands pressed down harder on my sex. I sucked her lip into my mouth and
wrapped my hands around her. She slid one finger inside me and I lost it.
I awoke to realize three awful things:
it had all been a dream, I was clutching the bed sheets and panting as my groin
tightened with aftershocks, and lastly, my husband was standing at the foot of
our marital bed with such a disgusted look on his face that I knew he knew .
September
2011
(Present Day)
––––––––
T he past two years have altered me, in
an irrevocable fashion and with iron-clad finality. I found, and then lost, the
one thing that I’d never known was missing from my life—my one great love. My
twin flame, so to speak.
It’s been over a year since I last spoke
to Maribel, but only hours since I last thought of her.
Time does heal, but it’s been a slow
process and leaves me battle weary at the end of each and every day. I witness
my life, down to the minutia of daily living, through a glassine barrier, which
distorts even the most recognizable moments. Like looking through Vaseline
covered glasses.
I may have survived the turn of events,
but my marriage did not. Faced with a wife he no longer recognized, my husband
left me and the house we’d shared for nearly a decade. And I’d hardly noticed
or cared.
Today is one of my better days.
I managed to get out of bed before noon,
dress myself, down a cup of black coffee and took myself to the mall. I needed
a day of window-shopping to distract myself, sure, but mostly I needed a day
outside of my house—which overlooked her house. Even though Lucas had
packed it in and abandoned his life here a month ago, I still saw Maribel in
every errant bloom poking through the overgrowth, behind every shadowed window,
on the porch swing in the moments where the wind buffeted it just so.
So I’ve been wandering aimlessly about
the mall for a few hours. I look at the fashionable window displays, but I
don’t really see anything.
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