Page 69 of Forbidden Fruit
Instead of alarming him, he groans and turns away from me, giving me his back. The rejection stings, but the difference in his behaviour alarms me more.
I get into bed with him, my arms snaking under his, to clutch his body to mine. He doesn’t refuse my touch, but takes my hand in his and remains still. I don’t talk, letting him open up when he’s ready. My lips kiss the back of his neck in light touches, reassuring him that I’m not going anywhere.
The clock on his nightstand shows five to noon.
Then past twenty.
“Baby, you need to get up,” I suggest softly.
He doesn’t answer for a long time. Then, barely above a whisper that I have to strain to hear, he says, “I can’t. It’s too hard. And I heard her downstairs.” His breaths come in pants and half sobs.
“She’s gone. Can you tell me how you feel?” I ask.
“Like my muscles won’t obey me. They’re heavy like lead. And my mind, it’s foggy. I don’t even know what day it is. I know why I need to get up; I always think about them, you know. But I can’t. I don’t even want you here. I don’t want you to see me like this.”
My heart breaks into tiny pieces and I swallow the tears of compassion that want to fall. If I want to be there for him, it won’t be with an abundance of emotions that will overwhelm him and add to his pain. I have to be a safe and steady haven and I want to give him that.
“You never have to hide from me,” I say before I kiss his neck again.
“Leave me, please,” he pleads, no sign of the commanding man I know in his tone.
“I can’t do that,” I answer. “Why don’t you come down for some food?”
“I’m not hungry. And don’t want them to see me like this.”
Shame coats him like a second skin, but I refuse to let it settle and rust the core of who he is.
“They’re at school. It’s just us,” I tell him.
Lino grunts like it doesn’t change anything. I’m unsure what to do. A man like Lino, hard working and stern, might like a bit of tough love, but I can’t bring myself to berate him. He’s self-conscious enough to know where his faults lie and right now, I can almost see the self-esteem leaving his body with the rest of his strength.
His usual glowing grey aura is a pitch black halo around him that even I can’t penetrate. But I try nonetheless. “Let’s get you into the shower, then.”
“I don’t feel like moving, Vanessa.”
My name on his lips is a whip, cutting and final. But I’ve never been a quitter.
“You can use my name all you want, Lino. I’m not leaving. I’ll bring you some soup and leave you alone if that’s what you want. Otherwise, I’ll set up my computer here and study. You don’t have to talk or stand or shower or do anything you don’t want to. But I’m here. And your kids? They’ll be here tonight. I’ll take care of them and?—”
“You shouldn’t have to do that,” he says, still avoiding my gaze.
I ignore him. “I’ll take care of them because I love them and because that’s what a partner does, and because I love you. You, Lino. Everything that you are, not just the light. You said we’d be partners, didn’t you?”
“It was before,” he says, dejected.
“Before what?”
Silence greets me as he weighs his words.
“Before what, Lino?” I repeat.
“Before you found out who I really am. Weak. Depressed. Unfit.”
His words make me freeze me but they help me make sense of all this. I knew Lino was someone who had a more pessimistic outlook on life, that he didn’t see everything with bright colours like I do. It doesn’t bother me. The self-hatred he feels is putting him in a darker place, one where I’m not sure I can reach him, but I’m determined to try.
THIRTY-EIGHT
LETTING GO