Your Life and Mine

She stood there staring at the spot that was now filled with random young adults grinding, laughing, and staggering in the sweltering, raucous room. The image still burned on her retinas as she stood stock still. Her heartbeat was pounding almost as loudly as the crude music playing throughout the split level home.

She wasn’t as shocked as one might expect in a situation like this. She knew the truth as soon as she saw it. It had always been there in the back of her mind, teasing her subconscious, keeping her wondering.

“Caitlin?” a familiar voice called.

It seemed far off—distant—but when she turned her head, breaking from her trance, she saw him staring worriedly at her from a foot away. She said nothing, just stood there, arms hanging limply at her sides, a red cup, half filled in her left hand.

“Cait are you okay?” he asked apprehensively.

She furrowed her eyebrows. Was she okay? The question, so simple, yet the answer so…incomprehensible.

She felt the pressure on her shoulders before the voice echoed through her ears, “Cait, what happened?”

Her eyes followed his thin figure up to the long face, past the Roman nose, to his soft, brown eyes. She stared into them, trying to share the image through telepathy, in hopes of never having to speak the truth. Speaking made everything real; and right then she didn’t want the truth to be real.

“Cait, did he…?” he trailed off.

Her eyes had moved to his lips, watching them whisper the words that were making everything real. His lips. There was stubble speckled along his jaw line from not shaving that morning. Her mind was running on high speed and all she could pick from it was him and her…and then him in front of her. He was there and all she wanted was to forget.

“Cait, talk to me,” he whispered, moving his large hands to cupping her face. Her eyes fluttered at the gesture, the feeling of his calloused fingers lying on her cheekbones felt so right. She felt his warm breath against her skin, the smell of alcohol tickling her sense of smell.

“Jack,” she breathed, pressing her cheek ever so slightly into his right hand.

“Cait, tell me what happened,” he whispered again, teasing her feeling of longing.

“You know,” she answered quietly, slowly losing her pain to the growing need to be with him.

She saw disappointment etch over his features and pity beginning to form. “Oh Cait,” he mumbled. “Do you want to leave?” he asked so simply.

She nodded slowly, wanting nothing more at that moment than to have his attention to herself.

She felt the warmth from her face disappear as his hands moved from her face. His hand wrapped over hers, as they squeezed through the mass of sweaty bodies. No one paid any attention. She didn’t pay any attention, except to the tall figure in front of her.

He looked back at her with a half smile as they wound through the living room, reaching the front door. At this point, she stopped, looking down at their entwined hands, feeling the blush creep up her neck as she quietly answered his curious gaze, “Are you okay to drive?”

He nodded and replied, “I barely drank.”

They continued through the door, past the few people passed out or throwing up in the rose bushes, down the driveway, to the sidewalk.

He helped her into the passenger seat, squatting down to her level. He brushed away a few stray hairs and tucked them behind her ear before asking gently, “Home?”

She shook her head, not wanting to go back to the place she shared with him.

He nodded in understanding before standing, closing her door, and walking over to the driver’s side. He pulled out of the space and slowly drove in the direction she knew to be his place. Her mind was focused on the circles he rubbed slowly on her hand, comforting her.

In what seemed to be a century to her, they arrived at his apartment building. He rushed out and was by her side in a second, taking her hand. The anticipation was slowly killing her. She knew what she wanted; knew what she was planning; she knew what would happen.

The apartment was the same as it always was; bare walls, random oddities strewn across the tables, counters, and floor, the same faint scent of Febreeze and a vanilla candle.

Just as the door closed, she took the opportunity. She squeezed his hand, gaining his attention. Her toes lifted her body up as she wrapped her hands around his neck, brushing her nose against his. Her eyes closed as she tilted her head into his. She felt his breathing catch in his throat as her lips teased against his.

“Cait,” he muttered.

“Shh,” she mumbled, pressing her lips against his. She felt his hesitation before he slowly responded, deepening the kiss. His hands roamed her sides before nervously gripping her waist.

Her hands slid down his chest to the hem of his shirt, tugging at it. She could feel them walking backwards, farther into the apartment, the intensity of their actions increasing.

&&&

Caitlin walked down the driveway of her and Alex’s home. She was too afraid to let go of the relationship, so she mentioned nothing of that night a month ago. She knew that he knew she was aware of his infidelity but refused to address it.

She opened the mailbox, grabbing the bills and junk mail. Her hands flipped through the envelopes, mentally noting the importance of them. She reached the sidewalk to the stairs just as her gaze found the untidy scrawl addressed to her. Her hands shook as she picked the cream colored envelope and stared down at it.

Her eyes moved to the door in front of her before quickly rushing inside and throwing the mail to the side. She trembled as she broke the seal and slid the thin paper out. A Polaroid picture fell from inside it as she unfolded the notebook paper.

She bent over and picked up the picture, staring at it. A gentle smile graced her lips as her thumb stroked the laminate. It was a picture from that night, his hands were cupping her face, her eyes were closed, a content smile playing along her lips. She took in the details of his face, a soft, caring look etched in his features, a smile tugging at his lips as he watched her lean into his hand.

She moved her gaze back to the untidy scrawl on the sheet of notebook paper.

Cait,
You’ve got your life and I have mine, but this one night, we had each other. Here’s a reminder.
Love always, Jack.