“No, I predate him by a decade, but bless you for thinking I’m so young.” He leans back and undoes another button on his vest. “Jake’s a very special man. Have you talked about his service?”
I shake my head. “No, he’s never seemed particularly interested in talking about it. I didn’t want to press if there were bad memories.”
“That sounds like Jake. He was a Ranger.”
“A forest ranger?” I ask dumbly.
“No, an Army Ranger. An elite soldier. Only the very best are Rangers. He is one of those people who is deadly by just existing. You could not ask for a better protector. He is fierce with the ones he cares about.”
The implication that I am one of those he cares about is not lost on me, and I feel a tingle of happiness that Jake’s letting people know I’m important to him.
“He’s pretty terrific,” I answer with a bright smile, but my lips kind of sag when Dr. Isaiah doesn’t return it.
“His business is very successful,” Dr. Isaiah continues. “In fact, he’s turning away business. He says he doesn’t want to grow so big that he can’t spend time with his family.”
I can see that by saying that Jake is terrific, I’ve somehow misled Dr. Isaiah into believing that my feelings toward Jake are tepid, changeable things.
“I love Jake,” I tell Dr. Isaiah. “I love him and I want to get better for him.”
Dr. Isaiah shakes his head slowly. “Oh no, you cannot get better for him. You can only get better for yourself.”
I rush to cover my mistake. “Obviously for me too.”
“Jake will never make you happy if you’re not already in that mental space. I’ve spoken with Dr. Terrance and he’s explained many things to me, things I should have considered before agreeing to see you as a patient. Jake brought you from one cage to another. Dr. Terrance and I think you should return to your apartment. Restart your aversion therapy and then come back here. When you’re ready to be a partner to Jake.”
He cuts to the core of my fear with ease. Distressed, I drop my gaze to my lap. “Is this marriage therapy?”
“It can be. Do you know what your greatest fear is, Natalie?”
I swallow hard. I hate answering these questions. At least with Dr. Terrance I don’t have to repeat these weaknesses. He already knows what a mess I am. Having to repeat that to a new person, even a therapist, makes me feel small and unworthy. “That I won’t be better. That I will always be afraid of everything.”
“But you aren’t afraid of everything. You are afraid of some things. New people, new experiences, new places. All things you can’t control, including love of another person, require the largest measure of trust, because you can never fully control another person, particularly not what they love or who.”
His words are like stabbing knives and my breath catches and I can’t swallow. I remember Laura coming to the door. I wonder about all the times Jake will be out on the town alone, or all the nights he will be forced to stay inside with me. I begin to choke on air. Dr. Isaiah grabs the barf bag and presses it against my mouth, commanding me to breathe. He counts as I gasp into the bag. His large hand slaps against his leg with each beat. My breaths come in short pants and I feel lightheaded.
“Stay with me, Natalie. In one, out two. In one, out two,” he chants. “Listen to me.”
I concentrate on the rhythm of his voice, the thud of his palm striking his thigh until my breathing regulates and I no longer feel like I’m either going to throw up or pass out or both. Even as he is counting, he reaches into his jacket pocket and hands me a large white handkerchief. I wipe my face, not even realizing I was crying. The tears come with big giant gulps. Dr. Isaiah moves next to me and places a comforting hand on my back as I sob out the grief over the loss of my parents, over the loss of my friends, over the loss of my career. I mourn it all and for a while, for a long while I fear I will never stop crying and that the ache of those losses will tear me apart.
I don’t hear him come in and I don’t feel the displacement of Dr. Isaiah’s body, but when Jake’s arms close around mine, I begin to feel that hollow place inside me knit together.
“Shhh, Natalie, I’ve got you, sweetheart. I’m here for you,” he whispers into my hair. I feel the reassuring touch of his prosthetic, sturdy and capable against my cheek and then my head. I turn my face into it, so I can feel how Jake has made his losses into triumphs.
The door closes with a quiet click and then it is just Jake and me and my endless tears. He rocks me tenderly, his mouth finds mine, and the sweetness of his kiss fills me up.
Dr. Crist is right. My fear isn’t of falling apart in public or being attacked. My fear is loss. And when my world spiraled out of control last year, I felt that all I’d achieved—my status, my friends, my freedom—had been taken from me and it was one loss too many.
And I know, oh God I know, that I can’t depend on Jake to make me better, but I don’t turn away from his caress. I drink it in. I allow him to press me against the cushions of the sofa or maybe I drag him down. I can’t remember later. I only know that our clothes fall away and soon he’s inside me, thick and long and full.
“Sweet darling, my sweetest darling,” he whispers, smoothing my hair away from the sticky residue of tears on my face. He kisses my stained cheeks with exquisite care, all the while moving inside me in a slow and measured taking. He cherishes me with every touch and caress.
“Jake, oh Jake. I love you.” I strain for him, rising to meet his downward thrusts, matching his rhythm with an ease that I’ve never felt before and I fear I’ll never feel again. He digs his knee into the cushion and twists into me, striking me hard and making me gasp in need.
“Love you too.” He shudders against me. He wraps me in his arms and this cone of protectiveness drops around me. In his arms, there’s safety. I lace my fingers through his hair as he makes love to my mouth with his firm lips and his strong tongue. There’s not a part of my body he’s not touched with those lips or licked with that tongue.
These memories I’ve made with him will keep me warm for months to come. I’ll get better, for myself and for Jake—if he’ll still have me. But while I’m gone, I’ll at least have this.
I curl into him. Wrapping my arms and legs around him, I ride the wave with him until we’re both coming, a long, languorous orgasm that sweeps over us in wave after wave of pleasure. We hold fast while it buffets us and we’re still together when breathless, it throws us ashore.
I love you, I whisper silently. Love you. Love you. Always.
I pretend to fall asleep and Jake quietly gets up. He goes to the bathroom and cleans himself and then readies a cloth for me. He’s always taking care of me, Sabrina, his family. He loves us all so much. He gives of himself selflessly. And he deserves someone who can help him each day instead of add to his burden.
He slides the warm washcloth between my legs and wipes away his come. I want to cup his seed to my opening so that the sperm takes root in an egg. Then I wouldn’t have to leave him. He wouldn’t let me, and we’d be bound together forever. But that’s so wrong that I only allow it to torment me for a moment before banishing the thought.
He leans over and kisses my temple and whispers something that I can’t quite make out. I try to memorize every sensation so that later I can replay it, later when I’m back in my apartment retracing my steps from the door, to the elevator, to the lobby, to the subway. Until I can get on that train, I know I can’t be with Jake. I won’t be good enough for him and he’ll realize that and it’ll be one loss too many for me again.