He still looks as though he’s trying to solve a mental crossword, but thankfully, he doesn’t say anything else and gets on with the task at hand.
Tea is fairly painless, and we stick on someAlways Sunny In Philadelphiato kill some time before bed. We haven’t mentioned a word about last night, which I’m grateful for because I’m no clearer on where my head is at. After 'Dennis Looks Like a Registered Sex Offender'finishes, I tell Phoenix I’m beat and head up to bed.
It doesn’t take me very long to really start regretting all my life choices. I’m lying on my uncomfortable air bed, and it squeaks whenever I move. When Phoenix walks up the stairs a short while later, after he’s walked into the master bedroom and found it and the bathroom empty, I hear him call out my name in the hallway.
“In here,” I say, just loud enough for him to hear. A few seconds later, he opens the door to the spare room and stares at me. His eyebrows bunch together in confusion.
“Why are you in here?” he asks, and I hold in a breath; this isn’t going to go down well.
“After last night, I thought some space would be good.”
“Space?”
“Yeah, space.”
“While you sleep?”
“Mhmm.”
“Mister Uses-me-as-a-human-pillow, needs ‘space’ while he sleeps?” I don’t dignify that with a response, mostly because I don’t have one. He has a point, but I’d sooner set myself on fire than admit that fact. “Is that where you went first thing this morning? To buy this thing?” He looks at the airbed like it’s a giant cockroach.
“I had some errands to run anyway, and I thought I’d pick this up while I was out.” I sit up on the bed and pick at a non-existent hangnail on my thumb.
“Oh yeah, what other errands?” he asks, immediately zoning in on the lie. Damn him for being a walking polygraph test.
“You know, just…like…stuff,” I reply, ever so smoothly. I hope nobody ever interrogates me because, apparently, I do not hold up well under pressure. And by pressure, just Fee marginally narrowing his eyes at me. “Fine. Okay. I didn’t have any errands. I can’t think clearly when you’re so close all the time, and as evidenced by last night, bad things happen when we don’t think clearly.”
“Bad things?” His voice cracks, and he looks like I kicked his puppy. Or maybe he’s the kicked puppy. Either way, a puppy has been kicked by my big mouth. If I could stuff the words back into my face, I would.
“I didn’t mean—”
“Fuck you for saying that,” he interrupts me. There’s no real anger behind his words, which is so much worse. He looks fucking gutted.
I am such a dick.
He turns and makes his way back to our bedroom before I can even find the words to apologise.
I lie back down and toss and turn a few times, but this horrible rubber bed makes so much noise I have to lie as still as a corpse if I have any hope of falling asleep tonight. Guilt gnaws away at me until I can’t take it anymore.
I partially shift so I can use a claw to pop a hole in the mattress. The mattress that now represents everything I hate about myself. It’s a very loaded mattress.
When I walk into our bedroom, Fee appears to be a big lump under the duvet with his back to me. I can hear from his breathing that he's still awake, though.
Lifting the covers on my side, I get under them and shuffle up behind him. I tug on his shoulder lightly, pulling him to lie on his back, and when I look down at him, he’s glaring up at me angrily.
I have the really unfortunate and extremely inappropriate urge to laugh all of a sudden. Why is it that the moment you think about how awful it would be to laugh, one instantly tries to bubble out of you? Barely managing to stifle it, I stroke a hand over the light brown stubble across his cheek. I can feel his jaw pulsate with how tightly he’s clenching his teeth. It’s kind of sexy if I’m being honest, but I digress.
Bending down, I kiss the corner of his mouth, but he doesn’t budge, and he doesn’t say a word.
Looks as though I’ll have to actually use my words. Yuck.
“I’m sorry, Fee, please forgive me?” I whisper into the near-silent room. He opens his mouth and closes it again without saying anything, so I try again. “It wasn’t a bad thing, I shouldn’t have said that. I’ve never regretted having sex with you, ever. I’m sorry I said it,” I tell him sincerely.
To myself, I silently add that I’ll stop punishing him now. It’s not as though I’ve suddenly forgiven him for everything, but I don’t want to keep hurting him. Honestly, it hurts me too. Feewordlessly turns back onto his side, and right before I can retreat to my side of the bed and give him some space, he reaches back and pulls my arm so it’s resting over his waist. Taking the hint, I wrap myself around the curve of his back. Resting the palm of my hand on his warm stomach, I gently stroke over the soft hair there with my thumb until I hear his breathing even out, telling me he’s drifted off to sleep.
Twenty-one
May 2022
