Page 32 of Jackson
11
Jackson
I could taste her on my lips and tongue as I walked, still a little unsteady, back to my bedroom. I heard her cry. It tore at my heart but I kept on walking. I angrily brushed the tears from my cheeks before falling onto thebed.
I lay on my back for ages, listening to her. Every nerve willed me to move. My legs jerked in protest at not climbing from that bed and holding her in my arms. I was finished. I was exhausted and I cried along with her. She quietened; I guessed it was her turn to listen tome.
My hand twitched with the urge to reach for that box, but my resolve was stronger. I opened the drawer and pulled out a pad and a pencil. I flipped it open and I drew. I drew her naked form. I knew every inch of her and I sketched from memory. Her hair was fanned out around her head, tears rolled down her cheeks, and her body arched from the bed. She was in the throes of her orgasm. Her hands gripped the bedding, exactly as I had seen her. When I was done, I flipped the page over and started again. I drew her again and again in different positions on that bed. In one she was on all fours, in another she was spread-eagled with her hands above her head. Each time she was crying. I threw the pad to the floor just as the sun started torise.
I rolled to my stomach and buried my face in my arms to block out the light. Islept.
* * *
Iglancedat the clock when I woke; it was mid-afternoon. I rolled to my side and faced the doors. Something was off though. I scanned the floor and noticed the sketchpad missing. I sat up and saw it closed on the bedside table. I swung my legs to the side and was surprised to not feel even the slightest thump in my head. The shake to my hands was the only evidence of the alcohol poisoning I had narrowly missed. Alongside the sketchpad were some used wipes, although it would take me a few moments to piece the early part of the evening together, I knew Dexter had beenthere.
I took in a deep breath and wet my dry lips with my tongue. I could taste herstill.
“Fuck,” Iwhispered.
Images flooded my brain. She’d brought me to an orgasm; I’d done the same to her. Those memories were very clear in my mind; it was what came before that I couldn’t remember. The sound of the sea and laughter drifting up from the beach reminded me of sitting out there and drinking a bottle of Jack. But it was the bit in the middle that I struggled with. I inspected the crook of my arms. I saw the very small red hole and chuckled. Whatever the fuck it was that Dexter swore by, worked. There was not one wave of nausea as I stood, no pounding in my head as I made my way to thebathroom.
I switched on the shower and slid out of the jeans I’d slept in. I climbed under the water while peeling away the gauze. I stood and raised my face. I let the water wash the shame that had started to creep over me from mybody.
I wasn’t sure I’d hit rock bottom; in fact I doubted it. But I’d done the one thing I’d never done before. I’d exposed my cuts to someone other than Dex. Fear replaced the shame. I wondered if she would still be there or would she have run. In one way, I was thankful we were in the U.S.; it wasn’t so easy to pack up in the night andleave.
I stepped from the shower and pulled a towel from the rack. I patted my stomach dry and wrapped it around my waist. As I walked from the bathroom, I came to an abrupt halt. Summer stood in the middle of my bedroom with a cup in herhand.
At first we didn’t speak. She kept her eyes cast down for a while. Eventually she looked up atme.
“Coffee, I thought you might need it,” shesaid.
I walked towards her and it killed me to see her take a slight step back. I stopped and sighed. I reached out for thecoffee.
“Thanks, yes, it’sneeded.”
“I…”
“It’s okay, no need for words,” I said. I turned away and placed the coffee on the table next to thepad.
“I’ll, err, I’ll make something to eat. I’m sure you’rehungry.”
“Starving,” I replied. I gave her a smile, a fake one, and I wasn’t sure if she knew itwas.
She smiled, a small one, before leaving the room. I dressed and picked up the coffee before making my way out on the balcony. Summer was in the kitchen and when I arrived I saw her stiffen herback.
“How’s the tattoo, I need to see it’s healing okay,” Isaid.
“It’s fine, itchy, butfine.”
She had kept her back to me. I stood and an awkward silencedeveloped.
“Want me tohelp?”
“No, I got this. You go and sit, I’ll be out in aminute.”
I left her and grabbed a bottle of water from the side as I passed. I was thirsty. Dexter’s magic potion stopped a headache and the nausea, but not the dehydration itself. I unscrewed the cap and brought the bottle to my lips, I drank it down in onego.
“I made turkey sandwiches,” she said as she joinedme.
