“Skinny Love” Bon Iver
That wreck will stick with me for a while. The mangled cars, wielding the Jaws of Life, the blood… Chills keep shooting up and down my spine that have nothing to do with being in the knee-deep snow on the pass for over three hours. I almost lost a little boy out there tonight, but at the very last minute, he pulled through.
Then there’s the other wreck to deal with. I swear I left Camilla bleeding out onto her mom’s hardwood floor. My mom’s words swirl with grotesque images and my stomach heaves as I pull into my driveway. Her biting, cutting assessment of the past, of the future, just might make me puke.
They leave me wondering if I lost a life all the same tonight.
My legs ache and wobble like I’ve pressed weights and run a marathon. The ache inside me is a lot harder to describe. When a dark, empty house greets me, that second one threatens to splinter me.
I should have kept Gretzky’s twin, rather than take him to the shelter. The clack of his nails and the yip of his bark would be a small comfort against the dark and lonely night. As I shuffle to the kitchen to grab a beer, I decide to pick him up tomorrow. Whatever painful memories he pulls up pale in comparison to the crushing silence.
And tonight is just the first of many. The quiet and loneliness that’s going to blanket every facet of my life when Camilla leaves is already suffocating me. I can’t even think about it besides to abandon my trip to the kitchen in favor of finding the bottle of scotch I’m saving under my bed for a rainy day.
Somehow I sense her before I actually lay eyes on her. Maybe it’s her homey smell or her whisper soft, soothing breaths. Maybe it’s just the magnetic pulse that lives between us, but it makes me dizzy. And when I can make out her beautiful body outlined by my sheets, where she’s asleep in my bed, it’s everything I can do to stay standing.
I shrug out of my clothes as if each piece of fabric weighs a thousand pounds. I buckle under the sheer heaviness of my heart and all but tumble into bed. Her body moves to cradle mine as I slip beneath the sheets, and when we mold together, I can’t help the single sob that shakes my shoulders.
Camilla wordlessly snakes her hands up to my face and gently pulls. Her sweet little lips press first to one eyelid then the other, and in that moment, I’m sure she’ll swallow up all my tears if I let her. That alone is a salve for my aching heart. But then she gently pulls me down to her chest and lets me cuddle in between her breasts.
It’s the single most soothing moment of my life.
Her breathing evens out but her grip on me stays tight as she falls back to sleep. I stay up listening to her for as long as my body will let me. When I eventually fall asleep, pink tinges the snow outside my window and I dream about how it matches the color of her most intimate bits.
The dream morphs eventually to how it feels when we’re together. My skin buzzes and melts all at once. I can’t feel anything but the sensation of our bodies and the jackhammer of my heart. It’s that wild heartbeat that wakes me from the perfect dream.
Well, that and the way our bodies are moving together. Or rather, how her body is moving against mine. I groan as she rolls against me and shoves her mouth down along my dick. My hands itch to grab ahold of her and dominate her rhythm but something about the peace of the morning, the peace of this moment, keeps them at my side.
Camilla moves up and down on me, adding tricks with her tongue she never knew before. Her hands move to other spots between my legs, tickling and massaging in a way that has my thighs bunching and my abs jerking.
“Lamb, I’m gonna come,” I say roughly but she just keeps on sucking. “Lamb,” I repeat and her bright eyes simply look up and silently agree.
My orgasm almost splits me in two. Soft, sucking lips just keep working on me and the rippling waves of Camilla swallowing make me think I can see heaven. I can’t help but swear. And when I stop shooting against the back of her throat, when I’m nothing but a pile of ragged, gasping breaths, I grab her shoulders and pull her up my body, desperate to kiss her.
I couldn’t give a fuck that I taste myself because it’s the flavor of us, and that’s a recipe not even Camilla can replicate.
Our kiss is long and passionate and I let my hands give in to their urges. They explore every inch of her and I even playfully smack her ass when she nibbles on my bottom lip. She yelps as she pulls away then leans her forehead against mine, gently pressing her lips to the tip of my nose.
“God, I needed that,” I murmur.
“A morning hummer? I doubt you needed that.” She smiles brightly and the corners of her eyes crinkle into beautifully lined shapes.
“No, I needed to come home to you. To be held by you.” I let my arms slide up her body and pull on her shoulders so she nestles into my chest.
“I needed you too.” She sighs and the warmth of her breath makes the hair on the back of my neck stand up. “We need to talk.”
Her eyes are bright and breathtakingly beautiful, I can convince myself that there’s hope lingering behind them. But I can convince myself that what she’s just done is trying to soften the blow she’s about to hand out, too. That’s a reality I can’t face yet. The images and the pain that she’s keeping at bay will devour me today.
“Not today.” The words just slip out. “Please, not today. You begged me for yesterday, let me beg you for today.”
She pushes up and studies me for a while, then that gorgeous smile splits her face.
“Can we have huevos for breakfast?”
I know what she’s asking and I’m not particularly fond of the idea. The diner on Main Street serves her favorite breakfast, and since I left her with only bourbon as her companion last night, I’m not surprised at the craving. She’s wanted huevos every morning after since the first time we stole beer. I want to stay in my house, better yet in my bed, and alone with her.
But I can’t deny her. Fuck me because I never could.
“Yeah.” I sigh. “Sure. ‘Course.” I manage a smile when I sit up, her still attached to my chest. “Huevos for my Lamb.”
Watching her get ready in my home is so right, like the house was built for us, not me. We move in an artful dance through the bathroom, then the kitchen, and I can’t help but compare us to long married couples. To how we’d look if we were a married couple. Heaven, I’m sure, is waking up to her, with or without the blow jobs, every damn day.
But the moment we leave the house I remember why I didn’t want to. Besides the whole, putting on clothes thing…
“AJ,” a voice calls, “I heard you responded to that accident last night. I heard you saved that family.”
And the questions are off. From everyone, at the coffee shop, at the restaurant… Each one pulling me from Camilla. And not just from her side. The fire she had this morning, the one that looked distinctly like hope, like a future, is slowly dwindling to ash and smoke.
“You’re the man that saved my grandson.” A fragile elderly woman’s voice shakes beside me and I turn to find big glasses perched on the tip of a withered and spotted nose. Her hand tremors as she grabs my forearm as I’m paying for breakfast at the counter. “You saved that little boy last night.”
“I did,” I say as quietly and simply as I possibly can.
“You’re an angel.” Tears are already pooling in the corners of her eyes. “I don’t know what else to say. I don’t know how to thank you.” Her voice begins to shake as badly as she does. But then she smiles a shaking, small smile over my shoulder to Camilla. “You’ve got an angel for a husband.”
“Thank you.” Camilla’s voice is just as mousey as mine.
My heart soars when she doesn’t correct the woman, only to crash all the harder when I catch her eyes. The fire from earlier has dwindled to darkness and the desolation existing behind her eyes speaks volumes. She was going to fight for me, she was going to fight for a future with me—in Seattle. I’ve always been able to read her like a book—a book that now may read The End. Her sweet heart won’t take me away from this life.
Just like my mom wanted. Her words have to be haunting Camilla because they’re suddenly tormenting me. The violent broken thoughts and memories barreling through my mind are going to bring me to my knees. Or maybe that’s just the realization that I might actually have to live without Camilla.
We step outside and I gulp down the fresh air, despite the fact that it stings my lungs. I want to ask her if she’s really going back to the Pacific Northwest. I want to ask her if she really thinks I’ll stay here. I want to scream and rage and hold her and kiss her. But none of those will help ease my pain or change her mind. None of them will smooth the cracks already splintering my heart.
“AJ?” my name is a beautiful question from my Lamb’s lips. She sees my turmoil when I turn toward her and her whole voice changes. “AJ.” This time it’s soft and sorrowful.
“Not today.” My voice is strained as I take her hand, bittersweet becoming a vivid color blanketing us. “I have something else in mind.”