Enchanted Again (29 page)

What Joe couldn’t seem to say in words he had no difficulty expressing through his lovemaking. He went far beyond his ordinary efforts to give Sandra pleasure in every way that he could think of. He knew that she loved to be touched and so he put his warm hands all over her, taking his time and, for the moment, getting more satisfaction from the pleasure he was giving her than what he was feeling himself.

Sandra let herself believe that Joe’s attentions during their lovemaking proved that he valued her, and she would not allow her mind to wander into the more pragmatic passages that questioned the validity of any real value to be gleaned from this kind of intimacy with a man. For now, she decided to steer clear of all forms of reasoning that required more evidence than her feelings in that moment, which in and of themselves created a very compelling argument indeed.

To her astonishment Joe suddenly confirmed those feelings, whispering dreamily as he gazed down at her, “I love you.”

Sandra’s heart overflowed when she heard Joe’s words, and the benevolence she felt for him in that instant surpassed everything else, even her previous anger. She couldn’t even respond, she was so utterly overwhelmed.

Joe became even more affectionate with Sandra after his declaration, as if to give it emphasis. He slipped his arms all the way around her, spreading his hands over her skin and holding her very close to him in the most intimate manner while he gradually and leisurely worked his way into her body. She was soft and pliant beneath him, almost melding into him as she accepted him into her. His arms tightened around her even more when he felt her liquid softness as he penetrated her, lifting her up off the bed in an embrace so encompassing that virtually every part of her flesh was touching his. He continued to hold her in this way as he slowly moved himself in and out of her, cradling her in his arms while lightly rocking her with the gentle force of his thrusts. She turned her face toward his and he dipped his tongue in between her lips, devouring her mouth hungrily. She clung to him feverishly as he gently ravished her, trembling and murmuring incoherently that she loved him, too. Joe shushed her gently, whispering tenderly and repeatedly, “I know, sweetheart…I know.” His words, combined with the heartfelt kindness with which they were spoken, seemed to pick Sandra up and transport her into a tempestuous sea that thrashed her about amid violent waves of euphoria, contentment and disbelief; all washing over her and threatening to pull her down into the dark, murky depths. But Joe kept bringing her back up to the surface, cradling her in a warm, comforting shield of well-being.

Joe’s movements as he made love to Sandra became so restrained as to be nearly imperceptible. He drew himself out of her slowly—so slowly and stealthily that it was almost as if he wasn’t moving at all—and then in the same unhurried manner he gradually inched his way back into her again. He, too, was genuinely affected by the unexpected intimacy of the moment. His senses were heightened by his awareness of it, and his deliberate movements were designed to enchance and extend it. Neither wanted the moment to end.

With this in mind, Joe continued to stretch out every single stroke and caress to almost maddening lengths. It was as if he were experiencing a part of lovemaking that he had never experienced before. He noticed things he had not noticed before, from the arch of her back to the feel of her legs as they clung to his body. Everything seemed different and new. He observed nuances in every aspect of her being. He almost believed he could feel the very pores on her smooth skin as it brushed up against him. His heightened awareness had sharpened his senses to the point that it seemed as if he were absorbing her very essence while making love to her body.

Sandra felt it, too, and she clung to Joe helplessly, unable to do more than simply bask in the warmth of the surreal moment that enveloped them both. Somewhere in her conciousness there lingered visions of home, and comfort and children—her and Joe’s children—and happiness without limitations.

All of this was contained in that one single moment, like a dream that exists for mere seconds but seems to encompass unlimited spaces of time. Like a dream, the moment was almost over before it had fully been achieved.

Yet it was the tenderest lovemaking they had shared. The goodwill between them was palpable, and the bad feelings they had both pushed aside seemed to make it even stronger. Sandra felt so blissful that she forgot all about appearance, or performance, or even to respond. She just held on to Joe as she slowly let down her guard, allowing herself to trust him completely. And although she vaguely realized that she would not climax—she was far too preoccupied to even try—she was as content as if she had. But even so, when Joe’s thrusts came harder and thicker, indicating his own impending release, Sandra heard a distant cry within her, calling out from the depths of her very soul it seemed, and she thrilled to it even as she pushed it aside.
Next time,
she assured herself.

It was as if a part of her was being severed when Joe ultimately disengaged himself from Sandra and rolled away from her. She remained still and quiet, except for a slight trembling that continued to rock her. She struggled to console herself from the disproportionate amount of loss she felt. She waited for the soothing sound of his snores and was surprised when he spoke.

“I’m not in love with Elaine,” he said slowly. “I can’t say for certain that I ever was.”

Sandra was too surprised to speak. She held her breath and waited.

Joe rolled onto his side and leaned up on one elbow, looking down at her. This new intimacy overwhelmed her, and she had to bite her lip to keep the tears at bay. His voice was almost a whisper, husky and low. They gazed into each other’s eyes as he spoke and she listened.

“I was involved with her. That’s the best way I know to describe it. Then one day I came home to find police officers with restraining orders telling me I couldn’t come back. So I left, and shortly after that another guy moved in.”

There were numerous questions running through Sandra’s mind, but she couldn’t seem to find her voice, so the two just looked at each other in silence for a few minutes.

“And in case you’re wondering, I never laid a hand on her,” he said as an afterthought.

She had been wondering about that but replied automatically, “I knew that.” And in that instant she realized that she had. Still, she found herself torn between the desires to both condemn the other woman and defend her. “But if you didn’t really love her—I mean, that still doesn’t justify what she did—but…didn’t you realize that it might end somehow?”

“At the time I couldn’t have been more surprised,” he told her, but after a moment he conceded, “I suppose now, looking back, I can see that we did have problems.”

“What were they?” she dared to venture.

“I was happy so I assumed she must be, too…” He seemed to be considering it as he spoke. He continued slowly, measuring his words as he went on. “Maybe ‘happy’ is too positive a word,” he said upon reconsideration. “It’s really more that I was content. I thought I was doing everything that needed to be done. I figured if I fucked up too badly she’d definitely let me know, because she didn’t seem to have any trouble telling me about it when things bothered her. I sure didn’t know she was so unhappy, or that she was out looking for my replacement.”

“She should have been honest with you,” Sandra said, even as she silently wondered, was she, herself, being honest with Joe? There were always so many little acquired injuries to her heart that she nursed in private. With Joe—or was it the same with all her lovers?—she felt the need to tread lightly, carefully picking her battles, for fear of losing him altogether. But where did that leave them?

“Yeah, well,” he said softly, and Sandra knew that he had shared as much as he was able to. She put her arms up around his neck and pulled him toward her. She felt all at once safe and secure in the warmth of his embrace and she sighed happily. She felt more certain than ever that she was the right woman for Joe.

Joe’s breakthrough, as Sandra came to think of it, marked another change in their relationship. Joe became noticeably happier, laughing more and drinking less. This, in turn, made Sandra more secure within their relationship, giving her the confidence to pour even more of herself into it. These positive aftereffects lasted several months, during which Joe appeared to get stronger even as Sandra seemed to get softer.

But after those months had passed, it once again appeared to Sandra that she and Joe were settling into a pattern of being together that, although comfortable and pleasant, offered no real commitment or permanence. He still refused to discuss their future together. He seemed to think that saying “I love you” was the end-all to relationships. Sandra yet again found herself feeling dissatisfied with her relationship. As was also a pattern for them, Sandra allowed these feelings to build up until she could hold them in no longer.

“Why do we never make plans for the future?” she asked him one day.

Joe looked at her. Did she imagine it, or did he actually cower away from her? On his face was a look of genuine frustration. His body language seemed to be saying, “God, not this again.” At least that’s the way Sandra perceived it, and she suddenly felt the buildup of resentment within her begin to bubble.

“It’s a pretty simple question, Joe,” she said, her tone full of condescension. The constant struggle to achieve even the tiniest advance in their relationship left her feeling utterly disillusioned and cynical. But these feelings actually seemed to empower her now, and she was struck with a strange sense of irony as she moved right up under Joe’s nose and stood her ground with her back held rigidly straight and an expression of utter disgust on her face. When she spoke, her voice was dripping with sarcasm. “I mean, it’s not like I just asked you to come up with a brand-new theory for solving integral equations, is it, Joe? No, no, I’m not forcing you define the elements of an isosceles triangle either, am I?” Sandra was practically out of breath when she completed this tirade, but somehow it had made her feel better. She realized vaguely that she had no idea what she had been talking about, especially in regards to the isosceles triangle, although, in the back of her mind it dimly occurred to her that an isosceles triangle had only one element she herself could identify, and that was that it possessed two sides of precisely the same length. What struck her most was that she had thought of the isosceles triangle at all, let alone the way it had smoothly glided off her lips as if she spoke of it every single day. What was she—in fifth grade—when she last thought about an isosceles triangle?

All this was a tiny and fleeting undercurrent of thought scurrying along the edges of Sandra’s mind, but at the forefront there remained the source of her anger, and she would let nothing distract her from it.

Joe, meanwhile, looked bewildered. Perhaps he, too, was momentarily stumbled by the unexpected reappearance of the isosceles triangle.

“All I asked for,” Sandra went on, “was a little information—no—a little
hint
about where I stand.” Her sarcasm quickly metamorphosed into sarcastic martyrdom. “Not that I have the right to know anything about my own future, I guess,” she said in a long-suffering tone of voice. “Why should I? How
dare
I ask the all-wonderful, all-desirable Joe to explain his intentions? No, I guess I’m just supposed to keep sucking his cock until something pops off in his big head instead of in his little head.”

In spite of himself Joe laughed. He knew when her sarcasm became funny she was close to the end of her outburst and then he would be able to reason with her.

“Yeah, it’s funny, isn’t it?” she said. “A big joke.” Her outburst was winding down as Joe predicted it would, but something was different about this time. She looked at him with tired eyes. “Why don’t you want to be with me in the future?” she asked him.

“I never said that I didn’t,” he told her.

“Yeah, but you never say you do, either. And we never make any plans. Your refusal to talk about it is clear evidence that you don’t want it.”

“You don’t know that,” he said.

“Then tell me now. Do you or do you not want to be with me in the future and…like…someday…marry me?”

“I can’t answer that.”

“So the answer is
no!
”

“I didn’t say that.”

“You don’t say shit. What is the answer now, at this moment? If you had to make the decision today, would you marry me?”

“No,” he said. She looked at him, shocked, and he felt compelled to continue, to explain. “At this moment, I would not. But if things were to change…”

“Change!”
she suddenly screamed. “Change? Is that what you’ve been waiting for? Change?
You
are waiting for things to
change?
” She laughed hysterically at this. She continued to laugh even after the tears came. “I bet you are waiting for change,” she ground out between her teeth. “Why the hell not, when I’m the one doing all the work? I guess I’ll have to try harder, right? Yeah, that’s it. I’ll try harder and you can continue to evaluate how well I’m doing.” She had moved away from him while saying all this, wandering around the room, picking up random items and throwing them in the middle of the floor.

“What are you doing?” he asked her, noticing that all the items on the floor were his.

“Things aren’t going to get better, Joe. Sorry to have to be the one to tell you that.” She continued to rummage around and collect more of his belongings to add to the growing pile on the floor.

“Look, Sandra, there’s no need to…”

Sandra stopped in front of him and flipped open her cell phone. “Don’t make me call 911, Joe.”

“What? Sandra, come on!”

“Get your shit and get out, Joe, now, this minute, before I dial the numbers.” She held one finger poised over the number nine on the dial pad.

“What just happened?” he asked.

“I just figured out that the payoff is never going to come, Joe,” Sandra said with a smile. “Would you believe it took me this long—what’s it been? Eight or nine months? To figure it out.”