She mutters something unintelligible, but her eyes remain tight shut.
I use my thumbs to swipe away tears. “I need you to look at me and tell me you’re okay.”
She shakes her head.
“No, not okay, or no you won’t look at me?”
“W-won’t look at you. I… I hate you.”
“That’s a pity, because I love you.”
Her eyelids flicker. She peeps up at me through ashes spiked with tears. “What? What did you say?”
“I love you,” I reply.
“Then, why…?”
“I want to keep you. I’ve found you again, and I don’t want to let you go. When I thought…” I pause, recalling the gut-wrenching fear that consumed me when I found out my wife and child were missing, in the hands of some unseen enemy. Nothing crystallises the thinking like potential catastrophic loss, helping a man to focus on what matters. This matters. They matter. We matter. “This is the only way.”
“I don’t understand.”
“Yes, you do. You wouldn’t be here otherwise.”
Her eyes flutter closed again, and she nods. “I need… I need you to…”
I lean in to kiss her. “I know. Shall we finish this?”
“Yes,” she whispers. “Thank you, for giving us another chance.”
“There’s always another chance,” I murmur. “I just wish we’d taken it earlier, instead of wasting all those years.”
Her mouth curls into the faintest of smiles, and she rolls back onto her stomach. “I’m ready.”
She’s had nine strokes so far, and I’m inclined to think we’re getting near where we need to be. I lay my palm on her right buttock and test the heat rising from her flesh. She flinches, groans, but doesn’t protest. The skin is reddened but showing no sign of breaking. We can manage a few more strokes, then I’d be minded to call it a day.
I straighten and pick up the belt I dropped onto the floor. I select my spot, the crease where her bottom and thighs meet. That will leave a lasting impression, and she won’t sit in comfort for a day or two.
I drop three swats, accurate and precise.
She jerks violently with each one but absorbs her punishment in stoic silence, resigned to the inevitable.
And that’s good enough for me. I drop the belt and grab a light wool blanket from the box below the window. I drape it over her, then sit at her side.
“Julia?” I stroke her hair. “We’re done.”
She raises her head, her eyes glistening as she stares at me, surprised. “But I thought…”
“Two dozen was always the most I would have gone for. But I think we’re finished. Don’t you?”
“I don’t… I mean, I’m not…” She’s confused. Baffled.
“You can get up now. When you’re ready.”
“I… Oh.” She plants her fists under her and shoves her upper body from the bed, then flops back down again. “I need a minute…”
“Let me help.” I slide my arm beneath her and ease her to a kneeling position. Sitting would be a tad ambitious.
She allows me to assist her, leaning into my chest and drawing in several deep, ragged breaths. She hugs the blanket to her, using the backs of her hands to wipe her eyes and nose. “I need a tissue…”