Chasing the Monsters: 44 (adult)

Blair had just finished putting down the children for bed.  Sam was tucked in, and had just finished a painting of Mixie.  Jack was in his room, with his earbuds in, working on homework.  Jewel was in her crib, and Ray was down for the night.  She surveyed each of the children, and marveled at how different they were from each other, yet the same.  They were part of she and Todd, even Sam, who had become like their natural child.  She sighed, and went to their room.  

Her plan was to run a bath for them, in the hot tub, and put candles around the outside.  It had been a long day, and both of them were tired and needing some quiet time.  She'd already arranged with Jack to be on call for the kids, giving Bitsy a rest from it, and he promised to keep one ear bud out in case he was needed.  She'd moved the baby monitor into Jack's room, and went to the master bedroom.

In the bathroom, she arranged their favorite scented candles around the tub, and lit them.  She ran the hot water into the tub, filling it slowly, sitting on the edge, and running her hand in the water, gently, imagining what it would be like in a short time, with them in the tub, him strong and sleek against her.  She planned to make love to him all night and make him forget.

The tub almost filled, she went and changed into a white nightie and robe, one that she had kept for years.  She was sure he would remember it.  She brushed her hair, and replaced her hairbrush, before checking in the mirror to make certain she looked perfect for him.  For a moment, she could not believe how far they had come, from two losers in a bar, to the family they had made.  She smiled, and went to find him.

***

Timothy finished dumping the last of an old bottle of vodka into the sink and ran the water after it.  He'd spent the evening deep in thought, mostly about Pamela.  A life wasted, another part of Peter's legacy.  He went back to the living room, and began to shut all of the lights, to prepare for going up to sleep.

He knew he wouldn't be able to rest, but he'd act the part anyway, dressing in comfortable clothing, lying down and shutting all of the windows and lights, and closing his eyes.  Somehow he knew that he would be seeing Pamela, on the tile floor in her modest home, in a pool of blood that surrounded her by a foot on each side.  He swallowed.  "Everyone makes their choices, Timothy," and he went to the far side of the room to shut the last small lamp.  

As he shut the desk lamp, almost completely darkening the room, he heard a knock at the door.  Puzzled, he went to it, and asked who it was.  When he got no response, he almost walked off, when he heard it again.  This time, he peeped through the hole in the door, undid the locks and pulled the door open, letting out a small laugh. 

"You're laughing.  I suppose that's a good sign.  May I come in?"  Dorian said.

***

"Todd, are you . . ." she stopped outside the Sun Office door when she heard something unrecognizable, at first.  His chair was turned facing the wall, and as she realized what it was, she also knew that the tape player was either on his lap or in his hands.  Either way, she couldn't see it, she could only hear it, a small voice saying something, then a click, and a rewind, and repeat. 

Her heart leaped in her chest, as she went closer, nervous to startle him.  

The tape player sound became clearer as she got into the room.  "Please, send someone to help my Momma and me, he's hurting her . . ." and then, a man's voice, "Go and hide somewhere safe, we'll be right there," and he would stop, rewind, and repeat.  Again.  And again.   A little boy's voice.  Her man's voice, from the past.  A stranger's voice, promising help.  Again.

Her heart was pounding.  She said, "Todd?" and walked closer.  His back still toward her, he ignored her words, and continued with the pattern.  She finally reached him, and put her hand on his head, drawing her fingers down his hair, and he didn't move.  Instead, he continued to play and replay the tape, until she crossed in front of him, and crouched before his chair.  She rested her hand on his and said, softly, "Stop."

His face was streaked with anger and tears.  She repeated, "Stop, My Love," and held his hand in hers.  Without much force, she was able to stop him from rewinding again, and she took the tape player from him, gently, standing up to put it behind him on the desk.  He raised his eyes to her as she stood over him, and then pulled her toward him, his face resting against her abdomen, and she held him, stroking his hair.

***

"It's been a difficult day, Dorie.  If ya've come to hash out old wounds," he said, and she interrupted by putting her fingers to his lips.

"No, I know, what you've been dealing with, at least some of it.  I just came to . . . be a friend.  That's all," she said, moving her fingers away from his mouth.

"A friend," he began, "is just what I need, to be honest."

"What happened?" she asked, walking to the couch.

He sat beside her.  "A woman, a friend's wife, killed herself.  I found her, dead.  Never thought something like that could have a grand effect on me."

"Oh my God, that's horrible."

"She cut her wrists and bled all over the floor, to death, mind ya."

"That's . . . horrific.  No one should have to die that way, or see it, either."

"It was bad enough that I had trouble sleeping.  I came back here instead.  Of course, I'm worried about Todd as well, but that's a different story, and something to keep out of our discussions, at least for now."

"No.  If you need to talk about that, you can rely on me.  I'm here for you."

"There are tapes, of Todd as a child, calling the police for help."

She closed her eyes and shook her head.  "Oh my God.  You didn't hear them?"

"Yes, I heard them.  It was . . . heartbreaking," he said, clearing his throat.

She looked into his sullen face, and noticed a single tear.  She leaned forward and kissed his eyes, one at a time, and before she was done, he put his hand at the back of her head and pulled her to him, kissing her mouth, deep and passionately.

***

Todd woke up, lying between his wife's legs, his pants still around his ankles.  He'd fallen asleep against her breasts, and she'd fallen into dreams under him.  He thought back to what had just happened between them, and closed his eyes, remembering:  

She'd been holding him, against her, and he was steeped in hateful helplessness from hearing the tapes, when he was suddenly overcome by need.  He had run his hands up her thighs, lifting the nightgown, and exposing her bare belly and breasts, and ravished them with his mouth and tongue.

He remembered hearing the rush of air that escaped her mouth as he pushed her back against the wall, and went to his knees in front of her, caressing her body forcefully with his tongue, as if desperate.  He could still feel her hands in his hair, and all he wanted to do was feel something other than pain.  He was instantly hard and stood at attention against his lower abdomen.  He could feel his own pulse was beating inside him, and he ached, stiff.

If I tell myself it never happened; if I tell myself I was never Peter's son. . .

Then, he'd done something he rarely did; he'd taken her, roughly, against the wall, simply standing up and moving inside her, in one stroke, and pounding all his feeling into her body.  She didn't complain; on the contrary, he felt her respond from the very first second, and her three orgasms proved he'd pleased her.  But it was different, hard, harsh, even dirty, and though he pleasured her, he didn't like what motivated it.  In this lovemaking was anger, rage, and he had worked for years, countless times, to keep it out of their lovemaking.

What if she leaves me?  What if she's afraid of me?

Without him noticing her eyes opening, she moved, and spoke.  "Todd?  It's all right.  I love you."

She knows me, hears my thoughts. 

"I love you, Blair," he said, and lifted himself off her, to look at her face.  She smiled, and touched his cheek.  He said, "I just needed you."

"I know, and I was there.  That's the whole point, Todd.  I've needed you before, to forget or just escape or make it not hurt.  We're married.  We're half of each other.  And it's all right."  She looked into his eyes, "I'm not afraid.  I've never been afraid of you, except maybe once."

"The night I found out you lied about the baby.  Our first, who died."

"Yeah.  I think that was the only time I was physically afraid of you.  But you've scared me other times, worse.  Sometimes, you would scare me with your intensity, and your hate when you couldn't deal with your love for me.  Now, you scare me because you know me, more than anyone, and you make me feel good the way no one can, and everyday, I know I can lose that.  That scares me most.  But I'm not afraid of you, Todd.  I love when you make love to me, I love when you romance me, I love when you fuck me, however you do.  Every time feels new and different.  Tonight, you were hurting.  There's no shame in that."

"Marry me," he said, nuzzling her neck and smiling weakly.

"I already did that, more than once."

"Then," he said, sitting up and putting his pants back on, "come with me," he held out his hand, and she took it.  When both were standing, he picked her up off the floor and carried her in his arms through the hallway to the master bedroom suite. 

She said, "You make me feel like royalty, Mr. Manning." 

"That's because you're Blair.  You're my queen.  Always," he said, going into the bathroom with her in his arms, and seeing the set up, he placed her down gently and stripped.  She did the same.  They climbed in, and she floated between his thighs, facing away from him.  He hugged around her waist, pulling her closer.  She rested against his chest, and she could feel his breathing and his heartbeat against her back.  The water took only minutes to reheat, and the candles were still burning, though some of them were spilling wax over onto the tub rim.

"If I'm your queen, you know what that makes you," she said, lifting his hand and kissing his knuckles.

"Court Jester?"

"No, and you always joke when you're hurting.  You're the King, then.  My King."  He kissed her, and she rested her head against his shoulder.  "We're so lucky, really.  We have so much.  All those things so many people just don't have."

"Yeah, Peter Manning, Dorian Lord, not to mention Victor Lord Sr., Carlo, Leona, Mitch and a bunch of others," he added.

"Now, stop.  We have Ray, and Jewel, Jack, Starr, Sam."

"And Hope."

"Right.  Hope.  Those are more important names."

She's given me everything.

"Thank you," he said.

"Thank you, too."

"Anything you want, you can have."

"All right.  I want the tapes erased, or thrown away.  Timothy has them, and that's enough, Todd."  He didn't answer.  She said, "You're not answering me," and closed her eyes for a moment, letting the hot, bubbling water ease her into a state of relaxation.

"I can't answer you, because I can't give you the answer you want.  But I'll think about it."

"Okay.  That's a step.  It's not healthy for you to be listening to that, over and over."

"Not healthy, but I did it.  Kept thinking I'd hear something.  Something to make it all go away."

"Let go, My Love.  You have to.  Sooner or later."  He pulled her closer, and she could feel him, excited, against her hip.  She turned to face him.  "Some things you have to let go of."

"And some things you never should," he said, meeting her mouth with his, and holding her head with his hands.

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