Let's Waste Time

I couldn’t cry forever. Even though I felt like I could. Eventually, I stopped sobbing, and I was only sniffling and crying in bursts every few minutes or so. But Chris continued to hold me until even that stopped, and I was just numb. He didn’t say a word. I imagine his legs probably fell asleep, and it was uncomfortable sitting on the hard floor. But he didn’t complain. Not once.

I kept my eyes shut, my head on his shoulder. I had my arms under his as I clung to him. I didn’t want to get to the part where we had to talk. Even just about anything. About what happened. Or what happened to us. Or just a general conversation about the weather. I wanted to go to sleep. I wanted to never wake up.

“Marley?” he said after a long time.

“I’m sorry.”

“You have nothing to apologize for.”

“I think—I need something to drink.”

“Okay.”

I climbed off of him and went to the kitchen on wobbly legs. I got one of my Garfield mugs out of the cupboard, filled it with water, and took a sip. Then I set it on the counter and leaned against it. I took a deep breath and pulled my glasses off to rub my face and clean the tear stains off the lenses. Maybe that was one of the reasons I liked my glasses so much. They made my eyes small and distorted. So you couldn’t see that they were green. Not a color that had ever been seen in my family before. They were bulky enough to distract from my features. All the features that belonged to the man I’d just seen outside.

There was a mirror above the sink. I could see him in my eyes and the shape of my nose. Not just my coloring. I understood why my mom was never able to love me the way she did her other kids. Because every single one of them looked like Avery Johnson except for me. I looked like that man. And she had to be reminded of him every day. Maybe things wouldn’t have been so bad if I’d just looked more like her.

I wanted to cry again. But nothing came out. I looked at my hands again. They were his hands. His DNA made up my body. And since I’d already expressed all the pain, I had to get rid of the anger next. It burst out of me in full force. I hated him. I hated him for hurting my mom and making my life with his violence. I didn’t want to live. I shouldn’t be alive at all. I reached out and ripped the mirror off the wall. I smashed it on the floor and then threw my favorite Garfield mug against the wall. Then I started pulling the dishes out of the drainer to break them too. I went for the drawers, but Chris stopped me before I could get them open. He grabbed me by the arms and forced me still.

“Marley, stop. Don’t do this to yourself,” he said firmly.

“I have his face,” I told him. “No wonder my mom hated me. I look just like him. She saw him every time she looked at me. No wonder no one loves me. I don’t love me either.”

Then he kissed me. Right on the lips. Not the teasing kinds like before. A real one. He pulled me close, I wrapped my arms around his shoulders. His hands tangled in my hair, and he kissed me like we were in a passionate drama on the CW. Exactly the way I’d always wanted to be kissed.

All the pain and anger faded into a numb throb. My body relaxed against him. I kissed him back. I kissed him until I nearly forgot why I was so upset in the first place. It wasn’t that I didn’t remember. It just didn’t seem as important. It still hurt, yes. But the pain wasn’t as sharp. The anger felt misplaced. Chris was a good kisser. He kissed me like I was important. Like he’d been holding that in for a long time.

Finally, he held my face in his hands, and we parted.

“That was against the rules,” I reminded him. He kissed my cheek, and I shut my eyes.

“I broke the rules a long time ago,” he told me, right before planting another soft one right on my lips.

I didn’t know what he meant exactly. I didn’t want to talk about it. I just wanted to enjoy the feel of him. The closeness and warmth and intimacy I only ever really had with him. I wondered why he was the only person who ever made me feel that way when he wasn’t supposed to be at all.

I knew he’d want to talk eventually. And I didn’t want to at all. So I turned my head, took his face in my hands this time, and pulled him back to me to kiss me again. He gave right in. He held his hand at the back of my head and kissed me full and deep.

“Will you stay with me?” I whispered when we parted. Then I looked up into his eyes. “Like last time?” He nodded.

“I don’t think I can do it any other way anymore,” he told me.

So I took his hand and led him to my bedroom. Maybe it wasn’t the right time for it. He brought it up. He said he’d hold me if that’s what I wanted. He’d lie with me and let me fall asleep with him like last time. But that wasn’t just what I wanted. I wanted to know that sex could be special and beautiful. I wanted him to make me feel wanted and important. I wanted to not feel anything other than that for a while. And he was really the only person who could do it. I didn’t tell him that part. But he probably figured it out.

“Are you sure you want to do this right now?” he repeated when I pulled his shirt up over his head. I nodded, running my hands up and down his chest.

“Please, Chris? I miss this.”

He kissed me hard again, not even letting me finish what I almost said. It was probably a good thing he didn’t. He peeled my clothes off slowly. He was gentle. We stayed attached at the lips until he helped me onto the bed. We touched each other, and he kissed me, and when we finally got down to it, I clutched him and shut my eyes. And then I figured it out.

I was in love with Chris.

I had been for a very long time.