His Wounded Light (23 page)

“I’m sorry, Alex. I—”

“Fuck this!”

I lift my head up and glare at him, appalled. “That was uncalled for.”

He scowls back at me, his eyes dark and hollow, and I see a fury that I’ve never seen in him before. It scares me, but I don’t believe what I see. This isn’t him. It can’t be him.

“I refuse to deal with this right now,” he says. “Would you mind leaving me alone?”

As soon as I’m out the door, I look around the house, feeling lost and afraid. While I’m glad that Eddie is in school and Maddy is at her playdate, I feel like a stranger searching for some direction in an unfamiliar place. My physical state isn’t any better than it was a month ago. Alex’s outburst has aggravated my condition, so I decide to lay down for a while just until I get over this wooziness. Then I think I’ll to take the kids to Evie’s for a few days. I remove my clothes and put on my robe before slipping under the covers. Lately, this nausea has been accompanied by cold sweats, so the satin feels good and cool on my skin. I sink into a deep sleep. Our bedroom has always been my safe place. Alex hasn’t been in it much lately, but our sheets, his pillows, our blanket—they still all smell like him. I’m awakened by the soft drone of the elevator, whose muffled sounds signal that he’s coming upstairs. I glance at the clock and see that I’ve been asleep for two hours. I hear the bedroom door open and in a few seconds, he has wheeled himself next to my side of the bed.

“Baby, I’m sorry.”

His words have erased all my pain.

“It’s okay.”

“I don’t know what to do about all this. I’m still adjusting.”

I sit up on the bed and his eyes grow large as he sees what I’m wearing. My robe has split open and my breasts are exposed. He reaches out his hand and touches me.

I close my eyes and encourage his hands with my own. “I’ve missed you so much,” I whisper.

I need him to acknowledge that he wants to live, that he wants to fight to get better. I push the covers off me and scoot to the edge of the bed facing him. I rest my legs on his lap, lean closely towards him and kiss him. I devour his lips, I’m starving for him. My heart is a desolate wasteland, a barren desert in desperate need of the rush of a waterfall. He reciprocates by grabbing my hair and biting down on my neck. Consciously, I plan my next move in my head. I’ve never done this before, and so I’m terrified that what I do next might disappoint him even more. I tug at the hem of his shirt and lift it up gently over his arms and over his head. My research into this temporary situation has said something about heightened feeling on his chest area, so I glam down on his nipples and tease them. He groans and pushes my head down further. I lick a trail down from his chest to his abdomen, and carefully try to pull down his shorts. He uses his arms to lift himself up to help me out. I take him in my hand and I rub gently, slowly. Nothing is happening and I know that he’s painfully aware of it.

“Let me make you come,” he murmurs as he spreads my legs across his lap and inserts two fingers inside me. I’m lying on the bed with my legs on him and he’s pushing and stroking until I’m close, so close. It’s like nothing ever happened to us and we’re still the same two people filled with so much want and longing for each other.

“Ahh. I love you so much,” I moan.
He is filling me up. My beautiful waterfall.

He pulls my legs roughly towards him, lifting me up and sinking his mouth into me. His tongue is doing what his fingers were doing merely seconds ago. Only my head and shoulders are on the bed. The rest of me is wrapped around him on the wheelchair. I am so heady with love for this intimacy, for this magic that we’re sharing for the first time in weeks, that it doesn’t take long before I release myself in his mouth. When I recover, I sit up on the bed and look into his eyes. They’re fiery and dark and burning, and I know he must be feeling so frustrated. I take him in my mouth and he gasps.

“I can hardly feel anything,” he says, trying to push me away.

“You will. You will, let me love you. Let me try.” I use a combination of hands and mouth and fingers and tongue. Faster and faster I go. And it does change a bit. It’s no longer flaccid but it’s not hard enough to slip inside me. I keep going. I keep trying. Just the fact that he’s this close to me is arousing me all over again. And then it happens. I feel it in his chest as he shudders and releases and I feel a soft spurt of liquid shoot into my mouth. I take it in and suck it in and I don’t stop until his breathing relaxes. I look up at him slyly and smile.

“We did it,” I whisper. “And practice will make perfect.”

His eyes look tired and empty and it hurts me so much to see such dullness where the joy of living used to be. I lay my head on his lap as he leans back in his chair and strokes my hair. And then it dawns on me. It’s been so long since I heard him say that he loves me.

***

“The art of love is largely the art of persistence.”

—Albert Ellis

The next month goes by in a hazy blur. There are ongoing renovations at the house, mostly just ramps and walkways that allow Alex to make his way around the pool and garden with ease. Part of his therapy will be spent doing exercises in the water, so it made perfect sense to modify the area. He hasn’t started his therapy yet, though. There’s a new excuse each week as to why he isn’t feeling up to it. I leave him be, but I also make it clear that I’m not happy about it. I want to give him space, but at the same time, I don’t want him to think that getting better is a condition for me to stick around. I want him to feel good about his progress, but I’ll take him in any way, shape, or form.

Our bedroom seems a little bit foreign to me these days. It’s like two camps and two sides of what once was a place where love was expressed freely and happy memories were made. There is always someone in the room with us—usually a male nurse who helps him to get in and out of bed. His name is Diego and he was a gardener in Alex’s house while he was growing up. Diego’s loyalty to the little boy who was raised within his sights made him volunteer to be Alex’s helper during his recovery period. He is one of the kindest, gentlest men I have ever met, aside from my Alex, of course. He knows when to support him and he knows when to leave him alone. Penny, his secretary, is over at least twice every day, bringing papers from the office and managing Alex’s schedule.

Lately, our evenings alone have been pretty much routine, especially for Alex. I always insist on being with him each night when it comes time for him to take a bath. He hates it, but I do it anyway. Diego knows to situate him in the tub and then leaves it to me to take care of him. I look forward to the times when I can gently towel the water off his body, run my fingers through his hair, find any excuse to touch him and help him get dressed. Alex doesn’t feel the same way that I do. He visibly recoils from me whenever I come close enough to touch him. He always finds some excuse to send me away, letting me know in no uncertain terms that he would rather have Diego with him than me. I don’t budge. I try not to let it hurt my feelings. I stay.

It’s a quiet Saturday morning and the children have joined us in bed while we watch Maddy’s favorite show,
Caillou
. Everything is light and easy; Eddie and I are busy chatting away while Alex has Maddy snuggled up on his chest. About an hour later, a warm sensation begins to seep under my legs and I immediately know what it is. I turn to look at Alex, who is watching me, and I instantly sit up and gather Maddy in my arms. I motion for Eddie to scoot out of the bed and I call for Emmy on the intercom. Once the children have left the room, I try to help Alex up from the bed so that I can change the sheets. He swats my hands stubbornly and keeps himself on the bed.

“I just fucking peed my pants in front of my children,” he says sullenly.

I don’t react and once again gently try to lift his legs over the mattress.

“Will you please just get Diego and get the fuck away from me for a while?”

The weight of his words crushes me.

“Alex—”

“Do
not
tell me that it’s okay. Will you get Diego now, please?”

I turn around and call for Diego on the intercom. It takes mere seconds for him to come knocking at our door. He doesn’t say a word as he scoots the wheelchair close to the bed and helps Alex swing his legs to the side and push himself into the chair. As Alex pulls away to head towards the bathroom, I start to gather up the sheets, intending to get them washed.

He doesn’t look at me as he says, “So what now, you’re the laundry woman too? Will you please just leave those alone and call the maid to do it? And then leave the room for now. I really want to be alone.”

His tone. I can’t even begin to describe it. It’s virulent and spiteful and it blasts a hole in my heart. I lay the rolled up pile on the bed and flee the room.

I walk up and down the hallway, not knowing what to do with myself until I decide to pay Eddie a visit in his bedroom. He has just started to play a video game.

“Mommy, is Daddy okay?” He puts the remote control to the side as he stands up from his game chair and comes to sit on my lap.

I squeeze him so tightly, channeling my strength into this embrace so I don’t start to break down in front of my son. “He’s fine, sweetheart. He just started to feel sick, so I thought we should leave him to rest.” I can’t look Eddie directly in the eyes. I honestly don’t know how much longer I can hold it together.

“Is he ever going to try to get better? He doesn’t go downstairs very often anymore.” The tone in his voice is dismal and heavy-hearted and it makes me want to go and shake Alex so he wakes up and makes himself better for his children.

“I think he’s still so tired from the accident, honey. He needs to rest so that he can be strong enough for his physical therapy.”

Eddie continues to hold me and I can’t help melting into the protective arms of my child.

“I miss that, you know, Monkey?” I say with tears in my eyes.

“Miss what?”

“The way you just rubbed my back when you hugged me. You used to do that when you were little.”

“I love you, Mommy,” Eddie says, stroking my hair. “You can always just hang out with me when you’re lonely.”

I have been. For the last month, this has truly been my place of comfort. Eddie moves back to his game chair. I stand up and kiss him on the head.

“I think I should go and check on Daddy.”

When I reenter the room, Diego is seated on the chair next to the bed and Alex is on the phone. The sheets have been changed and the bed has been made. I motion to Diego with my eyes to leave the room and Alex watches him shuffle away while he’s still talking on the telephone.

“Yes, that’s what I mean. We can just keep the two cars, the rest can go. They’re in awesome shape. No. No. I’m not paying any delivery charges. They want it, they come and get it.”

I try to catch his attention with my eyes, but he won’t look at me. When he’s done, he hangs up and goes back to looking over some of the papers that Penny left on his desk. I move closer to him and sit on the leather ottoman across from him, directly within his vantage point. This way, he won’t be able to avoid looking at me.

“What was that about?” I lean in towards him with my hands on my lap.

“Nothing. I’m selling the cars.” He wheels himself away from me.

I get up to follow him until he’s right back by the bed and I sit down, facing him. “Please, let’s talk, Alex. Which cars and why?”

He rolls his eyes sarcastically. “Why? Really, Isa?”

“You’re being impulsive. Why don’t you believe you’re going to get better?”

He ignores that question and goes about looking at a folder full of papers. I’ve just about had it with his lack of respect for the fact that I’m right here with him. I stretch out my arms and grab the phone he’s left on the desk. I press REDIAL and find out that it was Leigh whom he had just spoken to.

“Leigh, hi, it’s Isa. Yes, I’m fine thank you. I know, we should plan something soon. Hey, listen, I’m calling to let you know that the cars are off the market for now. We’re keeping them, so no need to find any buyers. Yes, okay. Please say hi to her for me. Love you too.” I press END on the phone and walk away. Now I have the reaction that I want.