It’s a Saturday afternoon, and Jagger is napping on the couch while I’m on the recliner flicking through Netflix looking for something to watch. This is the third weekend in a row where I have suggested we go out and he has deliberately shut it down.

I’ve mentioned cafes, the movies, going out with Hendrix, or taking Dakota to the circus. The list is endless, and he’s not interested in any of it.

“Hey.” The front door opens, and a sweaty Hendrix walks in from his run.

“Hey,” I sigh.

Glancing over at Jagger, he looks back at me. “Still didn’t want to go anywhere?”

I shake my head. “I’m really starting to worry.”

“What do you think it is?” He heads to the kitchen and I follow, not wanting to wake Jagger up.

“I’m out of ideas, but I do know if I push him about it, it’s probably going to start World War Three.”

“Maybe you need to fight about it for him to realise it’s serious,” Hendrix offers.

“He’ll take it the wrong way,” I say with certainty. “He will convince himself I want extravagant things that he can’t give me because of his conditions, when it’s not that at all.”

“You might just have to bite the bullet on this one.”

“I’ve thought of it from every angle, and I don’t get it. Why doesn’t he want to leave the house?”

“Maybe get Dakota to pester him about it.”

“Pester me about what?” He eyes us suspiciously, and I look to Hendrix wondering how we managed to not hear him get up.

Thinking of one last tactic, I pray that it makes all the difference. “Do you want to come over and see my place?”

“Umm I guess, but what’s the real difference from here?”

“It’s my place for one. I feel like I only use it as a hotel. An expensive one at that.”

“You can go home then,” he spits out defensively. “Nobody’s forcing you to stay here.”

“Hey, man, what the fuck? “She’s here every weekend for you. Stop being a dick and see her place.”

“Hendrix,” I interrupt. “It’s okay. I’m sorry for involving you. Everything is okay.”

“I wasn’t going to utter a word till someone woke up on the wrong side of the bed,” he shouts.

“Fuck this. I’m going outside for fresh air.”  As both hotheads walk away, I stand in the kitchen on my own, still with no solution.

Ignoring the both of them, I walk into Jagger’s room, crawl under the covers, and try to fall asleep.

Just as I’m about to doze off, I hear the door swing open. “Wanna tell me what that’s about?”

With my back to him, I answer. “No. Not really.”

“So, Hendrix can know, but I can’t.”

“No, Hendrix figured it out and you haven’t.”

Footsteps tap against the floor boards, and I brace myself for the sight of him. Crouching, he situates himself on the floor beside me. His eyes are dark and cold. I haven’t seen him this distant since prison.

“Tell me,” he pleads.

Salty tears fall down the side of my face. “It’s you who has to tell me.”

He leans his head on the mattress, and his shoulders shake unexpectedly.

I restrain myself from comforting him, because this time I need someone to comfort me too.

There are days where I can’t be a pillar of strength for both of us.

“The other week I was in the grocery store next to the warehouse,” he starts. His voice is soft, the tremor making it harder to hear. “And this guy stopped to ask me a question. I switched off and stopped listening the minute he opened his mouth, because this unsettling fear sat on my chest and the possibility of not knowing the answer to the question.”

He looks up at me, the cracks in his mask starting to show. My hands wipe the tears off his face. As each of his disappear, another one drops on my pillow.

“I didn’t want to sound stupid or for someone to look at me the wrong way and figure out I was just faking it out here. You’re the only thing that’s real Em, but everything else feels like something I can’t overcome.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I thought I could hide it, and I’m too much of a coward to let you go when I know you deserve better.”

“Don’t push me away, it’s not fair,” I cry. “We’ve come too far for you to think I’m going to up and go when the going gets tough.”

“I’m too scared to leave the house, Em. Anyone else would jump ship.”

“We’re still learning remember? Isn’t that what you told me?”

He climbs onto the bed and lays beside me. Burying his head in my chest, his limbs cling to me in desperation, and I hold onto him with fear.

“Don’t let me go he,” whispers.

“Not even if you let me go first.”

* * *

Standing in the middle of my living room, Jagger looks around smiling in approval. “So, this is your space, huh?”

“Everything you need to know about Emerson Lane is inside these four walls.”

“I’m going to snoop when you’re not looking,” he teases.

“Be my guest.”

After yesterday’s meltdown, Jagger and I were able to agree we would wade through the overwhelming moments together. No matter how hard, how ashamed, or how incapable either one of us felt.

I want my apartment to provide him the same comfort his does. I want it to feel like home. For his fears, wants and need to be taken care of. Nurtured

“Okay, so I had this idea. Now it might be too much too soon, but I think it could be the most fun we’ve had in a long time.”

“Should I be worried?”

“I don’t think so.” I push him toward the couch, “But how about you sit down just in case.”

Quickly jogging to my room, I grab the big green garbage bag that holds everything I need and head back to Jagger.

“Ok, here’s your surprise.”  Opening the bag, I wait for him to pull out what’s inside. One at a time I see him take out DVDs. Movie’s of every genre, from every year.

“What’s this?”

“Remember we mentioned learning?”

“Yeahh,” he says apprehensively.

“These are the top movies in the three most popular genres, for every year you were away.” I show him the different movies, dropping them on his lap and on the couch. “So we get movie night, but now when someone asks you if you watched Texas Chainsaw Massacre--” I hold up the movie for him. “--you can choose if you want to answer or not.”

He’s quiet, his face giving nothing away. Please don’t let him hate this.

“Is it okay?” My confidence takes a hit for every second he’s quiet. “I just thought…”

He rises, the DVDs falling off his lap, the plastic hitting the floor.

Pressing his palms to my cheeks, his eyes have returned to the colour of autumn leaves. “It’s perfect.” His mouth crashes onto mine, and I feel his gratitude with every swipe of his tongue.

“I need inside you, Em.” His fingers find the buttons on my shirt, undoing them swiftly. My hands grip the bottom of his shirt and lift it over his head as mine falls to the floor.

Our impatience becomes overwhelming, and we’re both ripping off our own clothes. With his jeans around his ankles, I push back onto the couch and climb onto him. Carnal, sensual and animalistic, I let my nakedness envelop him.

Jagger

She’s completely open for me. Every part of her is exposed. Her body, mind, and soul are transparent, and so blatantly mine.

Her wild hair falls over her shoulder, covering her breast. I tug the end and wrap it around my hand, pulling it hard enough that her body bucks and bends for me. Taut and stretched, I watch her rise and fall, mesmerised with the sway of her necklace and the bounce of her tits.

If all my wrongs come down to this moment, and to being loved by this woman, then it was worth it. If every lesson I learn is taught from her lips, by her body, and with her hands, then I surrender myself to her. Each and every day, I am hers.

“I love you, Em.”

“I will always love you, Jagger.”