Page 5 of August's Angst

The next thing I know, I'm pinned to the wall to the left of the bedroom door. Both of my hands are locked in just one of his larger hands above my head. His other hand reaches down and pulls the hem of my skirt. His long fingers caress my thigh. He moves my panties to the side and runs his fingers through my wetness. I moan long and loud. I do want this. My body is responding as it should, but there is a disconnect between my mind and my body. This should feel good, but it just doesn’t.

“You're so wet, pretty girl. I'm gonna destroy this pussy,” he says, pulling his fingers from me. I nod like an idiot, but now I know that’s untrue. This isn’t going to happen. He sucks his fingers into his mouth, the very same fingers that were just swiping through my wetness. I groan and lose my mind. I’m not one to “fake it,” but I don’t want to hurt his feelings. My lips devour his. His deft fingers find the eye hook above my zipper; he opens it before sliding the zipper down. My dress pools at my feet. He pulls away from my mouth, leaning away from me. His deep green eyes roam down my body.

He hooks his thumbs in the edge of my panties, caressing my skin with his fingertips before sliding them down my legs. “Step,” he says, and I do so immediately. Then he buries his face in my pussy. I love it when he eats me out, but I feel nothing. He stops well before I come and then carries me to our bed.

He strips down and climbs on top of me. He slams his cock into me. I’ve missed this connection, this closeness, but I feel nothing.

He slams into me over and over, groaning my name. I fake my orgasm as he fills me. He looks down at me, and I know he knows that I didn’t come. He leans down and kisses me. He looks crushed but doesn’t make me feel bad about it. I love him so much.

“It’s okay, baby.” He pulls out of me and lies down beside me. He pulls me into his chest, and I begin to cry. He rubs my back and lets me cry. He doesn’t know why I’m upset; I know this is killing me.

“Is it?” I ask, unsure of what the future holds for us. The bleakness is vast and all I can see.

CHAPTER 4

DECLAN

What the fuck was that?I can’t wrap my head around it. In all the years that August and I have been having sex that’s never happened. Not even the first time. I’ll ever forget that night as long as I live. We were crammed in the bench seat of my first pickup, a hand me down from my dad. There was no room for anything, but we made it work, more than once. As soon as we graduated we got a little apartment then we moved to this place. The end goal is a house where we can raise our family and maybe get a dog. We want kids, we want the happily ever after we’ve talked about since we were thirteen years old.

Tonight really threw me for a loop. She was into and then she wasn’t. I have been inside her so many times. I know what her pussy feels like when she clenches around my cock as she comes. That wasn’t it. If I didn’t think something was wrong with her before I know there is now. Her eyes were so fucking vacant until she started crying. All I can do is hold her while she cries. She cries for what seems like forever until she falls asleep. Once she been asleep for a while, I get out of bed and head into the kitchen. I grab a beer from the fridge and then sit at the kitchen table in the dark. Brooding. I have got to figure out what the fuck is going on and fast. This is driving me crazy.

THREE DAYS LATER

I still have no idea what the hell is going on with August. I can’t stop thinking about her. I haven’t tried to initiate anything thing with her. It’s fucking killing me. She hasn’t really spoken to me either. She’s been in bed when I leave and back in bed when I’ve gotten home. We’re basically pretending nothing happened, but I can’t help the seeds of doubt that have begun to form that there’s someone else. Another man touching what’s mine? The thought alone drives me insane. I am going to come unglued.

“Hey! Dec! Watch yourself!” I hear, jarring me from my destructive, repetitive thoughts making me realize that I’m at work. This is really unsafe. How the fuck could I forget I was at work? I have a fucking nail gun in my hands. This isn’t amateur hour here. Someone, mainly me, could get really fucking hurt if I’m not paying attention. Shaking my head, I get back to work. The drywall I’m hanging isn’t going to hang itself. That lasts for all of twenty minutes before I think about August again. I can’t believe she faked an orgasm rather then tell me she didn’t want to have sex. Did she think I would be angry at her or something? I have never nor would I ever expect sex from her. She means everything to me. We could never have sex again and my feeling for her wouldn’t change. This can’t go on. I need to talk to her. I leave work early because I realize that I’m not going to be worth shit for the rest of the day. I stop to pick up some flowers for August and a bottle of wine. It’s barely noon when I walk back inside, expecting her to be home. She isn’t. I don’t like this feeling of uneasiness I have. It feels like a weight has settled on my chest and I don’t see it going away anytime soon.

At first, I think she’s gone to the store or something but when she’s still not home at five thirty, I begin to panic. I’ve called her all afternoon, but it’s gone to voicemail until it eventually stopped ringing at all. Five thirty creeps to six, and she’s still not home. The sun has set, and the house is dark. I’m so angry/worried I don’t bother to turn the lights on. I take a slow pull of my beer, as I see her headlights swing into the driveway. I look down at my watch and see that it’s six twenty-five. I was supposed to be home at six thirty. The thought that she was with another man enters my mind again and doesn’t go away. Where the fuck would she have gone and then come home just before I do?

“Where have you been?” I ask before she has a chance to say anything. “I have been calling you.” My anger is quick to rise, and I don’t know why. Before she even opens her mouth, I know she’s about to lie to me.

What the fuck is going on?

CHAPTER 5

AUGUST

“Just lay real still.This will be over in just a few minutes, " the radiographer says into her microphone as if I needed her to tell me that. Rolling my eyes, I say nothing and close my eyes.

I left the doctor's office an hour or so ago after having had treatment an hour before that. The chemo has begun now, affecting my ability to stand upright and control my body's movements. It’s a mess. Once this scan is done, I return to her office because I have questions.

“Are we almost done?” I call out. The more I have to do these scans, the more claustrophobic I feel.

“Actually we are all finished. I will be right with you.” Taking a deep breath, I say a quiet thank you because I think if I were in there any longer, I would freak the fuck out.

Once she helps me up and I am placed in a wheelchair back to the office, I am helped into a chair, and the doctor is waiting for me.

“How’s the dizziness and shaking?” Is she serious with this fucking question? How does she think it is?

“It sucks,” I answer, a bit short.

“I would like for you not to come to chemo alone anymore. It is no longer safe for you to be alone afterwards.” Well, too fucking bad.

“I’ll take a cab if I have to.” I have begun getting angrier, finally entering the stages of cancer grief, as some of the patients call it.

Clicking her tongue at me in disapproval, she opens my folder and folds her hands. I understand you have some specific questions for me.” I have avoided this as long as possible, but it has been on my mind lately.

“Will I be able to have children?” Might as well rip the band-aid off. Her face turns sympathetic, and it pisses me off. I don’t need her fucking sympathy. I need her to answer the damn question. Pity has gotten me nowhere.

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