Chapter 7
With a baby on her hip and a five-year-old nipping at her heels, Valeska entered the Parisian townhouse to find a stack of mail in the foyer. What a time for Lena to be sick with pneumonia.
“Go upstairs and wash up.” Valeska pushed her feet out of her shoes and motioned for her daughter to do the same. “You need to change before you can go to granddame’s.”
“No.”
Valeska shot Daniela a heated glare. “Now. I’m not going to tell you again.”
Something had happened since Valeska’s near-death experience giving birth to her son. Either she grew a stronger spine with her other child, or Daniela matured enough to realize her mother was someone to keep happy. Regardless, it didn’t take much to get the little girl to obey her mother these days. She would always have that rebellious streak, but if Valeska gritted her teeth or narrowed her eyes enough, Daniela would eventually go do what she was told to do.
Small favors. Because even though Daniela was now in French kindergarten, Valeska’s day was primarily dedicated to taking care of her one-year-old, her home, and her body. In that order.
Daniela would be fine upstairs by herself, assuming she actually washed up and changed. Too bad Lena’s not here to make sure she does it. Or the girl’s father, for that matter. But André was in Stockholm. The third time that year.
Valeska couldn’t remember what was so important about Stockholm. She didn’t give a shit anymore. Since Thomas’s birth, the marriage had crumbled in all but name. Having André around was only a dire reminder of everything that had crashed and burned between Valeska’s overactive imagination and the repercussions of her son’s birth.
It’s all my fault.
She coddled her son in front of the downstairs mirror. His soft brown hair and big, dark eyes were almost more Reiter than Valeska’s genes, but that wasn’t why she felt so close to the little boy who was still too young to talk or walk more than a few wobbly steps. He’s such a good little boy. It’s like he feels guilty for his birth. That was absurd, of course. Thomas couldn’t possibly understand, and Valeska would never bring it up even when he grew old enough to comprehend how his mother almost died in the maternity ward. Yet their mother-child bond was so strong that Valeska swore she sensed that apology every time she changed her son’s diaper.
His chubby face frowned at her in the mirror. It was almost worth ruining her marriage to have him.
Oh, André loved Thomas as much as he loved Daniela, of course. He was a good father – when he was home. Yet Thomas’s birth had wrecked such havoc on Valeska that it was months before she had her strength back. By then, her doctors and female family members encouraged her to go to plastic surgeons to repair what had been left behind in the wake of Thomas Dubois’ birth. Valeska endured the weeks’ worth of consecutive surgeries in the hopes they would make her feel better when she saw her naked body in the mirror or shower. They had, a little. She was no longer too self-conscious to change in front of people. Including her husband, who claimed he could see no difference now.
Even so, she refused to let him touch her. They hadn’t had intercourse since her last pregnancy, even though her doctors told her everything was as functional as ever. She even went so far as to have a tubal ligation to prevent possibly fatal pregnancies in the future. So at least some part of her assumed she would have sex again.
But every time André kissed her so hard that her nipples became erect and her thighs tingled, she panicked. It wasn’t a fear of pregnancy. It wasn’t PTSD related to her traumatic labor. It was anxiety that her husband would be disgusted with her.
She couldn’t bear him rejecting her, so she rejected him instead.
“It’s time for your nap, little bug.” Thomas was already falling asleep on his mother’s shoulder by the time she reached the staircase, the stack of mail in her hand. “I think it’s time for mine too.” A nap with her son sounded wonderful… but first, this mail.
Doctor’s bills, election announcements, a postcard from Hailey on her second honeymoon in the Cayman Islands… and the thousandth letter from her husband, this one with a stylish Swedish stamp in the corner.
Sighing, Valeska briefly read her sister’s postcard – complete with a report that this would be the conception of her fifth child, so help her Gott – and put her son down in his crib at the foot of the master bed. Phantom pain spread through her abdomen. The only reason she called it phantom even though it felt so real was because her doctors swore she had no reason to feel pain after so long. What did doctors know?
Well, they probably knew more about her body than she knew French. Valeska had stopped going to her weekly French lessons after Thomas’s birth. Didn’t matter, anyway. She knew enough to get by when out shopping or conversing with her husband’s family, but she had long given up reaching any decent level of natural speaking. Or reading comprehension, for that matter. Which was why she glanced over her husband’s two-page letter and didn’t understand a line of it. She didn’t care anymore.
His handwriting is different, though… The distinctive flourishes of her husband’s cursive handwriting were replaced with stilted print. Frustration reverberated through every word. Telling me off, I guess. Valeska flipped it over and looked for the few English sentences he now threw on the end of every letter.
“Stockholm is very lovely right now, but I miss Paris. I miss my family. This letter may reach you when I am only a day away, but know that I look forward to seeing you, Daniela, and Thomas as soon as possible. If Daniela has behaved, I think we should go to Disneyland. How does that sound?”
Sounded exhausting. They were definitely not taking Thomas, or at least not until Lena had recovered enough to go and take care of him.
Valeska folded up the letter and turned over. Downstairs, the housekeeper admitted Madame Dubois, come to take her granddaughter out for shopping and tea. The woman’s pretty voice echoed up the stairs, and the thunderous sounds of Daniela’s footsteps ran to meet her.
“Au revoir, mama!”
Valeska raised her hand and waved her daughter off. Sleep was quickly overcoming her.
Too bad her phone rang. And too bad she had kept the damn thing too close to her head when she collapsed onto the bed. There was no avoiding that raucous sound threatening to wake up her son as well.
“Ja?”
It was André, calling to tell her that he would be home a day early due to a canceled meeting.
“I got your letter just now.” Valeska struggled to keep her eyes opened. “Daniela has been very good this time. We should go to Disneyland.”
She almost forgot that he was still on the line when he spoke again. “Did you read the rest of my letter?”
“I’m too tired to try.”
“I see.” André changed his tone. “Anyway! I will see you soon, Leska. Give the children my love.”
She hung up and let herself fall asleep.
***
“I never thought she would go to sleep.” Valeska popped out of Daniela’s room, quietly closing the door behind her. “You’d think walking around an amusement park all day would wear a child out, but she was still too excited to settle down!”
She said that to her husband down the hall in their room, where he curled his arms around their son and whispered whatever French fathers told their tiny children. “This one has no trouble sleeping. He is a narcoleptic.”
Valeska leaned against the doorframe. “He’s a baby. That’s what they do.”
They hadn’t taken Thomas with them to the park. Lena was still on medical leave and André’s mother was more than happy to look after him while the rest of the family went to Disneyland for the day. Daniela had never been so happy to be with both of her parents before. At least she’ll have this memory.
André approached her, their son conked out against his shoulder. “How about you? Do you want to sleep?”
Valeska looked at him as if he had asked if she ever wanted to eat again. “We should. It’s been a long day.”
He nodded. “I will put Thomas to bed. You go ahead and settle in.”
“You’re putting him in his room?”
André was already in the hallway. “He will be fine, non? We should have privacy.”
Great. Valeska needed to take a quick shower if she was going to feel refreshed enough to get her husband off. Guess that blowjob I gave him when he got home the other day has worn off. Wonder if I could get away with a handjob this time. God knew nothing else was going to happen.
André was quick to dress down to his pajamas and brush his teeth in the bathroom once their son was asleep in his room. Valeska hopped into the shower for five minutes and tried not to overanalyze her appearance in the reflective surfaces around her. It was bad enough she had to reach between her legs with the cloth and remember what had happened.
I have so many stretchmarks. My tits sag to my navel. My eyes are permanently red from the lack of sleep. Every time I sneeze, I pray something doesn’t come out of my ass. She tapped her forehead against the wall. How could she be expected to have a sex life if she could barely stand to look at herself?
André was already in bed when Valeska reluctantly joined him, a book in her hand. He had turned off his lamp and now looked at her as if she were nuts.
“Mon chou,” he said, hand searching for her leg beneath the covers, “Do you not hope for l’amour?”
Her eyes were fixated on the German text in her book. “I’m tired.”
“It has been so long since we embraced.”
God, why did he have to put it like that? Was that really how he thought to best express his thoughts in English? Or was that the romantic in him? Either way, I feel like a monster. “Sorry. I know it’s been a long time.”
André turned on his side and caressed the bend of her leg beneath the covers. “It’s been a crazy year, but things are getting better, oui?”
“I suppose.”
“We’ve been married seven years. Did you know it’s the eight-year anniversary of when we met and agreed to get married?”
Valeska stiffened beneath her husband’s touch. “I don’t really think about it.”
“You have been happy, non?”
The book closed with purpose. Valeska continued to stare at the ceiling while her husband pressed up against her.
“I know I am not home often. I am sorry. It strains.”
“I know the children miss you when you’re gone.”
“And you?”
Valeska bit her lip. “I have not been myself this past year.”
“I know. The recovery has been difficult.”
“You can say that again.”
He found her beneath the covers. “Do you go to your therapy? It is good for you.”
“When I can be bothered. It’s hard raising two kids in Paris.” Valeska missed Monaco. The atmosphere in Paris was so different. Stressful. At least in Monaco she had the views and the weather to calm her nerves when high society grew impatient with her shoddy French. “Maybe it’s for the best we can’t have more.”
“You always said two was the perfect number. So, we have two.”
“You wouldn’t mind more, though.”
“No, but I’m the father. You do the hard work. It’s your decision.”
“Like it was my decision to name our son Thomas, even though you lobbied for four months to name him Louis?”
“My father’s name. It is nothing special.”
Naming our son after a man I’ve spoken to about five times in my life? Twice at the wedding alone! “It doesn’t matter. We have a son and a daughter. We’ve replaced ourselves.”
“They are healthy, and so are we.”
Valeska put her book on the nightstand, but could not bring herself to turn toward her husband. “I’m sorry that I haven’t been a good wife this past year.”
“How can you say this?” André propped himself up on his elbow. His muscular physique loomed over his wife, but what once excited her years ago now reminded her that so much had disappeared in so little time. She was eight years older since agreeing to marry the man beside her. They had lived in two different countries and created two children. Valeska couldn’t count how many times he fucked her in the ass, let alone how many times they made love in total. Although she could count how many times in the past year.
Zero.
“You are a fantastique wife. How could I ask for someone better?”
Valeska didn’t answer.
“You are always responsible and keep my home waiting for me. You gave me two beautiful children who will one day make my family name proud. And you are beautiful, non?” His hand wrapped around her thigh. Dangerously close to her underwear, although Valeska did not worry about him venturing forth without her consent. “I love you, Leska. Do you not believe me?”
She held her hands to her chest and kept her face pointed away from his. Please end this madness, André. I can’t stand it. Tears welled behind her eyes.
“I am always thinking of you. When I’m away from home, I think about you every hour. I think about you now, too. Because you are not healthy.”
She turned away from him.
“Leska.”
“Please, let it go, André. I can’t do it.”
“Do what?”
“The amour, you bastard.”
“Does it hurt? Are you in pain? Tell me the rules. I can follow them.”
“Leave me alone.”
He stopped speaking, although he remained intimately close to her. “I miss you, Leska.”
“If I blow you, will you shut up?”
André stopped squeezing her. “You misunderstand me.” He rolled over, head hitting his pillow with an oomph. “Even after all these years, you still do not understand me, Valeska.”
The tears came. Valeska attempted to keep them contained and quiet, but within five seconds her own pillow was wet and her body curled up in the fetal position.
Which was worse? Her husband still wanting her? Or him being disgusted with her?
André was not roused until Valeska coughed on one of her quiet sobs.
“Mon chou…” He was wrapped around her again, only this time Valeska did not have the strength to push him away. “What is the matter? You can tell me. I am your husband.”
“I…” She hiccupped, adding to her dismay. “I’m so disgusting.”
“Who says this? Who called you disgusting?”
“I know I am. I’m not the same anymore.”
“Why? Because of our son?”
Valeska continued to sob.
“You think I am disgusted with my own wife? Mon cherie, I could never be disgusted with you. I’m not perfect either. I’ve gained four kilos and my hair is whitening as early as my father’s did. Last month a doctor stuck his finger up my ass and told me there might be a problem one day. My penis goes a centimeter sideways. I always come too early.”
Valeska couldn’t believe she was laughing through her tears. “You do not!”
“No? You wouldn’t know recently. Just because we don’t make amour, doesn’t mean I don’t treat myself. I come too early now. I am too hurried and getting too old.”
“Don’t even joke about that. You’re barely thirty-six.”
“You are as beautiful as the day I met you. I always enjoy my time with you, whether we make full amour or have a little fun.”
Valeska wiped away her tears. “I’m not the same down there. I had three surgeries.”
“So? We can still enjoy.”
“It’s not like it once was. However you remember it, it might be different.”
“Valeska Reiter-Dubois…” He squeezed her closer to him, his lips nuzzling the crook of her neck. “We don’t have to go all the way right now. We can go easy.”
The girlish part that remained in her heart smiled to hear him say something so sweet. The rest of her likewise responded to his flirtations. It may not have been the full arousal she once experienced, but it brought her into his arms and welcomed his arduous kisses upon her famished lips.
“You are too consumed with how it looks,” her husband said. “We will turn off the light and you will close your eyes. Think about how it feels, mon chou. I will be gentle.”
She expected him to attempt intercourse, and she was not entirely opposed. But that was not his one-centimeter-to-the-side cock slipping against her reconstructed body. Those were his lips, and both they and his tongue made such gentle love to her that she was taken completely by surprise when she climaxed for the first time in over a year.
André could have whatever he wanted after that. He was fine with kissing and caressing her cheek while she stroked his erect shaft and taught him some forgotten dirty German words.
How could she have missed this so much? It was exactly what she – they – needed.