The Time Until (21 page)

She grabs a fistful of my shirt and pulls me
closer to her, roughly rubbing her lower half against mine.
 
Feeling and knowing how hungry she is sends
more waves of rationale killing lust throughout my body.
 
I can’t get enough of her as our hands
explore each other without restraint.
 
Finding the bottom of her shirt, I glide my hand underneath and trace a
path up to her breasts.
 
She arches her
back, both in pleasure and to provide more access to her chest.
 
She gently bites my bottom lip as she
silently moans.

Things rapidly get out of control when Sam
quickly grabs the bottom of my shirt and yanks it off — with little help from
me.
 
I catch her hands as they start
fumbling with my belt buckle.

“Sam,” I have to catch my breath, “what are you
doing?” She looks at me with both desire and confusion

“Just for tonight, I want to feel you close to
me,” she says with a small, sad smile playing on her lips, “I want you, please,
just for tonight.
 
We can go back to
being friends in the morning, but please, tonight only.” I hate hearing her
beg, but I know this is as much about James as it is about us.
 
Releasing her hands, I grab her face and look
her in the eyes.

In truth, I want to feel her close to me as
much as she wants it.
 
In fact, I think
she’s the only one who can help me forget James and everything that happened
tonight.

Even if only for a little while, I want to feel
something other than sadness.

“Sam,” I start with all the affection and love
I can, “you have me for the rest of your life if you want me.” Sam’s smile
grows brilliantly and then falters.

“But, what about Kate?” she asks. Kate.
 
I almost forgot about her.

“I’ll talk to her and set everything straight
tomorrow,” I tell her kissing the tip of her nose softly, “but right now I want
you next to me.” Sam smiles playfully.

“That’s my line,” she says, then kisses me on
the mouth with a selfish hunger.

Her hands hover for a second and then her eyes
glow with mischievous longing and she starts to undo my buckle.
 
I don’t stop her, I can’t.
 
I want this as much she does.
 
Once the buckle is undone and my pants are
open, she slides her hand inside and around me.
 
I start thinking of baseball, soccer, Aunt Mildew naked, anything to
keep from exploding into her hand as she gently strokes up and down.
 
My eyes roll into the back of my head and
hear her giggle slightly at my reaction.

“You like that?” she asks, tone dripping of
seduction.
 
I nod.

“Good,” she taunts with a smile and a squeeze.

Two can play at that game!

I slide my hand down her stomach and, not even
bothering to unbutton them, into her pants.
 
I start with her sides and gently massage her core.
 
She flinches at the feeling and grips me
tighter, sending me further into my need for her.
 
I can’t hold on much longer and I impatiently
attack her sensitive spot with a ruthless abandon.
 
Convulsing violently, she bites my shoulder
to keep from screaming, but she only manages to stifle it instead.
 
I remove myself from her and stand at her
legs.
 
Sam sits up and attempts to remove
my pants.
 
I’m left here standing in
all my
splendor and she shimmies out of her pants.

Lust is so thick in my blood that nothing is
making sense except that I have to have her.
 
Something rings in my mind that being with Sam like this is exactly what
I need and want.
 
She’ll complete me in a
way no one else can.
 
Sam finishes with
her pants and works her shirt over her head and her naked body sends mine into
a craze.

“Are you sure?” I ask in my one moment of
clarity.
 
I have to be sure this is what
she wants.
 
It’s not exactly the ideal
place to be losing your virginity.
 
Then
again, it’s most likely better than the back of a car.

She nods vigorously tried to grab my chest in
order to pull me to her.

“Now,” she demands.
 
Who am I to deny such a request?

I plunge myself into her and her painful scream
fills the night.
 
Working slowly at first
in order to get her used to the pain, the world starts to go white.
 
The pleasure of being connected to her is
overwhelming.
 
It’s rapture.
 
Nothing compares to it.

Sam starts to moan with every thrust and my own
control starts to slip.
 
It won’t be long
before my indulgence will end.
 
Suddenly,
panic hits me as rational thought invades my lust-filled haze.
 
I’m raw, no condom.
 
Oh shit!
 
I quickly pull out and stop everything.
 
I catch it just in time.

Sam collapses onto her back breathing heavily
and completely content.
 
I can’t get the
stupid grin off my face looking at her.
 
Climbing up next to her, I pull her into my arms, cuddling her as I
gently stroke her hair.
 
I can’t feel
anything but satisfaction, not the physical kind either.
 
There’s no more empty loneliness, just filled
contentment.
 
It’s a new feeling for me
and holding Sam in my arms only increases the emotion.
 

My heart skips a beat when I see Sam with such
a happy smirk.
 
Her eyes are closed and
she seems to be just enjoying us.
 
My
heart once again goes to her and she owns it completely.
 
It beats when she tells it to, stops when she
leaves.
 
It breaks at her word and her
touch repairs it.
 
Her warmth sustains me
and her smile gives me wings.
 
Sam has
me, body and soul.

She has always held my heart, now she owns it.

Forever.

4 Years Ago (Age 16):
 
November

Despite still riding the high of last night,
this is the hardest thing I will ever have to do.
 
Last night with Sam was incredible.
 
I was able to get my mind off my brother’s
death — I’ve come to accept it for the most part — and I’ve never felt this
complete.
 
I’m still on my cloud when I
call Kate to my house.
 
I’m not looking
forward to this conversation.
 
I told Sam
to go home for now and that I would call her later with an update.

The doorbell rings and it’s the moment of
truth.

Katelyn stands at the door with a big uncertain
smile on her face.
 
She isn’t sure how to
be around me right now.
 
I feel even
worse now since I’m not feeling the depression I was feeling last night.
 
Sam filled that emptiness.
 
Now I have to tell her about it.

“Hey, Kate,” I greet her, “
come
on in.”
 
Kate’s smile falters as she
steps into the house and takes in my attitude.
 
I guide her to the couch and we sit down across from each other.
 
Kate definitely looks good today with her
long-sleeve sweater that falls off the shoulder and her
capri
jeans.
 
My nervousness doubles and I suddenly don’t want to say what I have to
say, not because I don’t want to, but because I don’t want to see her reaction.

I picture cop cars and multiple stab wounds in
my future.

“Alan, what is it?” she asks me with
concern.
 
I take a deep breath and gather
all the courage I can — which isn’t a lot.
 
Looking up, I start to lose my nerve again when I see her eyes.
 
They have a heavy dose of sympathy and
consideration.
 
They’re breaking my
resolve, but I have to do this.
 
Even if
I wanted to stay with Kate — I don’t — what I did with Sam last night is
something I can’t keep to myself.

The guilt, if anything, would drive me insane.

“Kate,” I start softly, already a lump forms in
my throat,
“
we need a break.”

Kate’s face twist slightly, but doesn’t reveal
her emotions.
 
I study her quietly and
wait to see how she reacts — preparing to dodge if need be.

“What do you mean?” She asks quietly.

“I mean we need to break up,” I respond.
 
Her face breaks into devastation, then
understanding, and finally anger.

“This is about Samantha, isn’t it?” she yells
at me.
 
I recoil slightly though.

“In a way, but not entirely,” I answer her,
“there’s been a problem for a while now.” She looks bewildered.
 
She had no idea there was anything
wrong.
 
Either I’m a very good actor or
she didn’t care enough to notice.
 
Somehow, that makes me angry and sad at the same time.

“Look, Kate, it’s not—”

“You give me the ‘it’s not you it’s me’ speech
I swear to god, I will damage something on you,” she interrupts with her hand
up.
 
Kate seems lost in thought, eyes
unfocused and distracted.
 
She starts
mumbling under her breath.

“This has to be an emotional decision because
your brother died,” she explains more to herself, “this can’t be what you
want.” I’m taken back by this.
 
Am I
making a rash decision because James died?
 
Well, if that’s the case, then last night was one hell of a
whopper.
 
If it didn’t feel so damn
right, I might actually believe that this is a rash decision like she said it
is.
 
No, Sam is not a rash decision.
 
I would have chosen her even if James
survived.

“Katelyn, stop.
 
This is not an ‘emotional decision’, I
haven’t been happy in the relationship for a while now.” I need to get her to
understand.

“But this is about Samantha,” she repeats her
argument.
 
I shake my head at this.

“It’s not,” I argue, “It’s about me not being
content in the relationship.
 
I should
have told you sooner, but I was a coward.
 
I didn’t want to hurt you.”

Kate shakes her head, completely in
denial.
 
She’s trying to find a way to
fix this and is stubbornly rejecting my excuses.

 
“I won’t
let you make a mistake like this,” she begins, “you just lost your brother.”

“Kate,” I raise my voice, “I slept with Sam
last night.”

Katelyn blanches and her mouth drops open.

“THAT WHORE!”
She
shouts and leaps to her feet.
 
Glaring at
me for longer than I feel comfortable, she quickly grabs her stuff and looks me
right in the eye.
 
I can see the hurt and
anger as she studies my face.

“I have some words for her when I see her
next,” she tells me, “she won’t get away with this.
 
Taking advantage of you
like that.”
She starts mumbling about wringing her neck and other bodily
harm on Sam.
 
She seems to have
completely
forgot
that it takes two to horizontal
tango.
 
We were both there and complicit
in the act.

“Kate,” I say to gain her attention, “it wasn’t
like that.” She stops and looks at me, silently urging me to explain.

“We both knew James, I obviously knew him
better, but we both grew up with him there. We needed comfort and support,” I
finish.

“So you talk, you hug, you cry,” she sneers, “
get
a freaking puppy.
 
You don’t sleep with your best friend.” Sighing, I drop my eyes in
shame.

“It wasn’t just about comfort, Kate,” I tell
her with a hint of regret and shame.

Kate remains deathly silent for several
minutes.
 
Her eyes close and she takes a
deep breath before stepping close to me.
 
She bites her bottom lip — a move I used to find sexy — in order to stop
it from quivering, her eyes look sad.
 
She quickly shakes off her sadness and replaces it with anger.

The venom in her stare is undeniable and
justified.

“I hope you live a long life, Alan,” she spits
at me, “I want you to remember this day forever.”
 
She steps closer to me to make sure she’s
heard and understood.

“Every time you look at Sam, I want you to
remember the person you stepped on to get her,” she admonishes.

“Kate,
ple
—” I am
interrupted by Kate striking me across the face.
 
The implications of the slap hurt more than
the physical pain.
 
I feel the hand print
on my cheek burning in to my skin, marking my soul.
 
I grit my teeth as I let my consciousness
soak in her fury and pain.

I’m positive I’ll feel that sting even after I
die, whenever that will be.

“Don’t, Alan,” she points at me with a firm
finger, voice cracking with emotion.

“Just don’t,” she says softly but sternly.
 
I can hear the resentment and strain oozing
from every syllable.
 
I shut my
mouth.
 
Burning rage-filled tears swell
in her eyes and she angrily wipes them away with her palm.
 
I avoid her hateful glaze just before she
walks away

I don’t even watch her leave, I can’t.

She politely closes the door and silently leaves
my life.

Present Day

“Regret?”
Kate repeats.
“I was pretty mad at first, but time went by and it just became what it
became.
 
I have no regrets, now.”
 
I nod at her explanation.
 
I have regrets, but never once did I regret
breaking up with her.
 
I only regretted
the way we broke up, it should have happened differently.

“My only regret is how we ended,” I admit.
 
I shift uncomfortably in my chair and lightly
stroke the back of Sam’s hand with my thumb.
 
This has a calming effect on me, easing my nerves.

“I know,” she tells me with a knowing smile, “I
always knew that.
 
I think that was one
of the reasons I was so angry.”
 
I bring
Sam’s hand to my mouth for a soft kiss on the back and Kate sucks in a deep
breath.

“Oh my god!” she exclaims, covering her mouth in
shock.
 
I look up and then follow her
gaze to where Sam is staring at the ceiling.
 
Her eyes are half-open — as if half asleep — but they have no life in
them.
 
They’re clouded and withdrawn,
unfocused and empty.
 
She’s just staring
into space as if locked in thought and no way to get out.
 
It’s so unnerving to see her defunct that
it’s enough to make tears come to my eyes.

I release her hand and bring my hand up to her
face; she flinches slightly.
 
I try to
look into her eyes, but it’s difficult because they seem so barren and
cold.
 
It’s like she can see right
through me.
 
She doesn’t blink, just
stares through me and I start losing myself in her eyes.
 
They have lost some of their chocolate color
and now look more like a faded M&M.
 
Her pupils are dilated.
 
The large
black pools in the center of her eye trap me and I feel a pull as if something
is calling me.
 
I now know why people say
the eyes are the doorway to the soul; it feels like she is pulling mine from my
body just by looking at her.

“Sam,” I ask softly, “
are
you in there?”
 
There is no response, not
even a flicker.
 
She doesn’t talk, or
even make a sound, and the only sign at all that there is life is when she
flinches.
 
Even her open eyes aren’t
enough to prove that she’s alive; they’re too dead looking.
 
I have to get out of here.
 
Sam is not the same person I remember her
being and it’s screwing with my head.
 
This dead slab on the bed is not the same person I know and love.

“I have to call Mary,” I announce trying to find
an excuse to leave the room.
 
I use the
time it takes to get to the lobby to compose myself.
 
I must not think about how dead she looked.

I must not think about how it’s killing me slowly
inside to see her like that.