Page 21 of Wrapped in Hope
Chapter 8
When she kisses me,a bolt of lightning shoots through my body, electrifying every nerve ending. Her lips are plump and soft, yet strong as they move against mine. When her hot tongue slides into my mouth, that lightning bolt shoots straight to my groin, an area that hasn’t been dealt with in a very long time.
Her hot breath blows across my cheek and a soft whimper escapes her. Then I’m reminded of who she is. I have to stop this.
Making her stop is the hardest thing I’ve ever had to do, but I did it. As I’m walking away from her, I feel a little sick. Not because she kissed me. That was an honest mistake. But because of how much I liked it, how it made my body come to life after being dormant for so long.
My dick is hard as a rock as I walk away from her. It’s practically causing a tent to form in the crotch of my jeans. I hurry to my Jeep, needing to put some distance between us. That kiss shouldn’t have felt that way. I mean, I knew her as a child. I wasn’t around her much because I was always working, but there were a few summer days where both of our families would have cook outs and pool parties. She was my dead son’s girlfriend for God’s sake!
I tell myself that it was nothing more than a cheap thrill for a man who hasn’t been laid in five long fucking years.
As I start on my journey home, I’m eaten up with guilt. I know her kissing me wasn’t my fault, but I’m still married, even though my wife has told me time and time again to go get what I need elsewhere because she doesn’t care enough to be there for me.
I’ve had this pass for two years now, but I’ve yet to act upon it. A part of me keeps holding on to the idea that I will have my wife back one day. But watching her day in and day out as she lies lifeless in bed, makes me realize that she is only getting further and further away from me.
I’ve thought of leaving her for years now, but I feel like a piece of shit for even considering it. She’s my wife. We’ve been married for twenty-one years, and dated for years before that. I should be willing to stay with her through everything: sickness, health, the loss of a child, depression.
But I can’t. I’ve done it for five years, and all it’s doing is killing me. The first year, I held in there. I told myself that she just needed time to heal and adjust. I did the same with years two and three. I thought it had been long enough and that she should be moving on any day, but she didn’t. Year four, I spent all of my spare time trying to talk to her about it. I tried getting her into therapy, groups, meetings with other parents who have had the same loss, but nothing worked. Year five, this year, I finally accepted that this is my wife now, that she will never come back to me. As much as I love her and what we had, I have to let her go. She’s only hurting me by not wanting to help herself. It’s like watching someone commit suicide, knowing damn well there is nothing you can do that will stop it.
I feel like I’m standing on the side of a pool, unable to swim, and my wife is drowning. I keep reaching for her, but she won’t even try to grab my hand. I just have to watch her die or jump in and let her take me down with her. I can’t take it anymore.
The only thing she’s done since our son passed away is go to the doctor to get more pills. She sits back, popping her medication, and letting the world pass her by. I think back on the night I asked for a divorce for the first time.
I walk into her bedroom and find her sitting on the lounge chair, looking out the window in a dazed state. She doesn’t look up when I walk in.
I take a seat across from her. “Jane,” I say, hoping to get her attention, but she doesn’t even blink when she hears my words.
“Jane, we need to talk,” I say a little more forcefully.
Finally, she turns her head to look at me. She has no emotion on her face what so ever. She looks like she’s sleeping with her eyes open.
I take a deep breath. “It’s been four years now, and you’re not getting any better. I can’t sit here and watch you do this to yourself. I think it’s time we talk about divorce.”
Her eyes pop up to mine. They are full of tears. “What? Why?”
I rub my forehead, trying to ease away the stress of this conversation. “What do you mean, why? We’re not even a married couple anymore. We’re like roommates. We don’t eat dinner together, we don’t talk, we don’t even make love for God’s sake. How long did you think I could live like this, being completely ignored and left alone for years, longing for the comfort of someone who loves me?”
“Sex? That’s what you need?” Her tone has taken on a sharp edge now. I’m not surprised that’s the only part she heard.
“No! I need more than sex. I need a partner. I need comfort. I lost my son too damnit.”
She nods, seeming to understand. “I can’t lose you too. Dean is gone. You’re all I have left.”
I’m completely flabbergasted. I’m all she has left? She refuses to even talk to me most days!
She must see my confused expression. “Look, I know you need more than I can give you. So go get whatever you need. You need a companion, sex, whatever… Go and get it. Just please, don’t leave me alone. I know I don’t talk or get out of bed most days, but just knowing you’re here helps me. You are free to go and get whatever you need, I won’t be mad or upset. Just please, don’t leave. I can’t lose you too.”
I let out a long breath while rubbing my eyes. “Are you telling me that I can sleep with other women as long as I don’t leave you?” I ask, shock evident on my face and in my words.
She nods once with her eyes downcast.
This only fuels my anger. “I can’t fucking do that, Jane. What the fuck? You’re my wife and I love you. But I need you to get better. I can’t spend any more time alone. I need my wife, my partner. Someone who understands me. How could you even suggest such a thing?”
She looks up at me. Anger and sadness is showing in her eyes. “I don’t know what to tell you, Holden. I’m not signing divorce papers. I won’t. I won’t let you leave me.”
I’ve never even thought of using the pass she’s given me. At the time, I saw what I wanted to see. I heard her say she can’t lose me, and I took that to mean that I actually meant something to her, that maybe one day I’d have her back. That was enough to keep me hanging on these past two years.
But that forbidden kiss did more to me than awaken a part of me that has been forgotten about for far too long, it made me realize how much I miss being that person. The person who can have a conversation with a woman. I miss the soft touches and kisses, feeling like a normal person.