Curio Vignettes 05 Exposure (5 page)

I sigh noiselessly, holding Caroly tighter.

Should some child come into being as a result of our affair… Well, it will be different. Different than how I arrived. No souvenir of a love lost, no living proof of a doomed romance or a tainted marriage. Merely a new person, some odd little companion to guide through the world. A big world, at once scary and breathtakingly wondrous, to discover alongside a father who would fundamentally be seeing it for the first time himself.

If
, of course.

A very big and serious
if
, and one whose answer I’ve been told before.

“Caroly.” I whisper it, softly enough that it won’t rouse her if she’s fallen asleep.

After a pause, “Yes?”

Do you know for sure that you don’t want children?
But all I manage is another, “I love you.”

“I love you too.”

I want to ask, as badly as I fear to.

Again, my breathing gives me away. “What are you thinking about?”

“You said once…you don’t want children.”

A long, heavy pause answers me. “I told you I’m not sure I’m cut out for it. And I’m scared it might end up with my mom’s issues. Or mine, or—”

Or yours,
she was about to say. She revises. “You told me you couldn’t offer anyone that.”

“Because I hadn’t left my flat in over three years. You may as well have asked me if I’d like to dance on the moon.”

“Have you changed your mind?”

“My mind isn’t sure of anything. But my world is quite different, these six months later.”

I hear her swallow. “I don’t know how I feel about it. I’m still learning how to even be somebody’s girlfriend.”

“Of course.”

She raises my hand and presses my knuckles to her lips. So often when she doesn’t know what to say, she kisses me. As though the words her mouth seeks are written on my skin.

“Next fall I’ll have lived with you a year,” she finally says. “I might have a new job title. You might propose to me, or break up with me. Or I could do either of those things to you.”

“You’re saying, ask you again, further down the road.”

“I think I’m saying, never say never. Before this spring, I could only imagine lying here with a man like you…” She pauses for a breath. “I’m trying to say,
right now
is so exciting. I don’t want to miss any of it, worried about predicting the future.”

Yes, the present. I’ve never been good at basking in the moment. Anxiety’s always had me squinting into the distance, scanning for threatening shadows. The only times I exult in the present are during sex, and while mired in the hypnosis of mending a clock. Even now, in this bed, wrapped around the woman I love, my mind is fixated on questions that only time can answer, lamenting wasted years that no measure of regret could ever reclaim.

At length I ask, “What are you thinking about?”

“How strong your arms feel.”

I sigh. “You’re so much better at that than I am. Just enjoying the moment.”

“I was thinking about how strong your arms feel,” she says again, “and how you’d look, holding a child.”

My heart thumps hard, mouth going dry. “Oh.”

She squeezes my hand. “So no, I’m not immune to those thoughts. I’ve tried to imagine it now and then. For the record, I think you’d be amazing at that—being a father.”

I try to reply, but no words come.

“I’m not in any hurry though.” She hugs my arms tighter around her middle. “I’d like to be selfish for a few years and have you all to myself.”

“But if the idea should slide out of my brain and through my lips, from time to time…?”

“I wouldn’t mind.”

“Good. You’re right though. For now, we should just enjoy being greedy with one another.”

“Speaking of which—it’s my turn.” She nudges my shoulder and I obediently roll over so she can drape her arm along my ribs, bracelet tinkling.

Nearly every night we spend together, this is how she falls asleep. Since giving up my clients, I’m an owl struggling to adjust to a robin’s hours, often lying awake a long time before sleep comes. But I enjoy the time and this clinging sensation, the way her arm goes limp when she nods off, how the breaths warming my neck deepen. It makes me feel wanted. That hunger that was so rarely fed as a child, the one that made me parlay my looks into modeling, then prostitution. I need to feel desired, and I’ve always known it.

Caroly’s arm has grown heavy around my waist, and she tenses for a breath, dreaming. I wonder if she knows how like a dream my waking life feels, lying here with her, so far from my everyday world.

I shift, rousing her. “My turn.”

“No it’s not,” she mumbles, barely awake, but rolls over all the same.

I hold her tightly, nesting her bent legs with mine. Her hair smells of the lavender already come and gone from the countryside. Closing my eyes, I breathe her in and imagine the purple fields at the height of summer.

With Caroly close, I can imagine so many places. So many possibilities. So many of the things I’ve excluded myself from, for so long. I forfeited years, letting them pass me by in a haze of pleasant company, pleasant atmosphere, pleasant sex, pleasant distraction. A blur of squandered days and nights. Perhaps I won’t ever feel at ease, strolling down a busy city street, but at least I’ll experience every second of it.

“Beaux rêves
,
”
I whisper against her skin. “And thank you.” For this moment and this place, and a chance to even be this way with someone.

She stirs, not waking.

“À demain
. I’ll see you when I wake.” Tomorrow, and every morning after, for as long as I’m fortunate enough to call this woman mine. For as long it’s her hand, her voice, her smile, drawing me out of the shadows and back into my life. Come what may.

About Cara McKenna

Cara McKenna writes smart erotica: a little dark, a little funny, definitely sexy and always emotional. She lives north of Boston with her extremely good-natured and permissive husband. When she’s not trapped inside her own head, Cara can usually be found in the kitchen, the coffee shop or the nearest duck-filled pond.

Cara welcomes comments from readers. You can find her website and email addresses on her
author bio page
at
www.ellorascave.com
.

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