Page 39 of Marrying the Gardener
All I have ever done is stand around, take abuse, and hope a man’s whimmightspare me from more pain.
Sobbing as the knife slips from my fingers, I croak, “You’re doing…great.” I sniffle, crumpling against my bed, kneeling with my face against the destroyed pillow. “So…great. Thank you. For all the time and effort you’ve…put into this. I don’t…” My throat hurts. “I don’t think I can handle anything else tonight. I need some time by myself, I think.”
Knees hit the ground beside me, and arms close in, dragging my frail body into a warm embrace. Every muscle in me revolts, hating my weakness, hating that I even needcomfort. It’s only when Kaleb’s voice cracks that I stop myself from shoving out of his arms. “My parents…” he says, clutching me, “they’d beat me.Sometimes, because I messed up. Sometimes…just for kicks. I don’t know.”
Is this ayour life’s not that badstory? Because my knife’s still in reach.
“Ihate,” he hisses, “seeing others used and controlled like this. It reminds me of them. It reminds me of how cruel they could be. When I look at you in these moments, I can’ttake it. It’s like looking in a mirror after being pummeled. It’s like seeing my black eyes and busted lips and knowing I won’t be allowed outside for weeks. Except, instead of bruises on your body, these are bruises on your soul. And—” His body shakes. “—I’m the one dealing them, Crimson. Please… Please stop this torture, if not for yourself, forme.”
My heart cracks.
My arms sweep around him as my emotions level, settle, calm. “Shh.” I run my fingers through his hair. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” I can’t believe myself. Of course he’d blame himself for my pain right now. I asked him explicitly to cause it. What am I doing breaking down likethisin front of him? “I’m…fine.”
“Tell that to your pillow,” he whispers.
I cut a glance toward the bed, feel the feathers sticking to my damp cheeks, and grimace. “I’m fine…now.”
“If this continues, you’ll run out of pillows, and I…I won’t be able to take it. I’ll fall apart.”
“No…you won’t.” I pull back enough to meet his devastated eyes. “I’ll hold you together. We can do this. Please. Remember, you’resavingme. Even though it hurts. All of this pain now is so I’ll never have to hurt like this again.”
He brushes pieces of my pillow from my cheeks, murmuring, hoarse, “What ifIneed saving, Crimson?”
My chest…lightens. Perhaps…flutters.
And it’s terrible. But the idea that I’m not completely helpless right now is a drug I desperately needed.
Gaze lowering, I find the harsh line of Kaleb’s lips, and kiss him, gently. His muscles constrict around me, palms flattening to my flesh. “How can I help make this easier? I…” I swallow. “I’m sorry for getting so frustrated in front of you. You’ve been doing so good.” I kiss his jaw, put what we’ve practiced to use. “So, so good. I’m so grateful things are going so well. I just hate how little I have to do with any of it.”
“How little you have to do with any of it?” He kisses me, carefully, on the cheek. “Crimson, you are dancing on glass and nails to make this work. I hate watching you twirl for them…forme. I swore I’d never ever be anything like my parents. Yet, here I am, proving it’s so easy to act like them.”
“I never knew them, but if they were anything like my father, you are nothing like them. You are so kind and gentle, Kaleb.”
“I’m not. I force myself to be. Every moment of every day, I’m forcing myself to pretend I’mkindandgentle. If I’m honest, I want you so badly it cripples my brain. Every time I touch you tohelpyou, I enjoy it. I lie awake at night scorning myself for this desire I know makes you sick. I’m a horrible person, Crimson.”
“Hey,” I soothe. “You aren’t. I promise you aren’t. You’re just…a man. It’s probably normal. You probably can’t help it.”
“That’s the sexist propaganda that they feed you to excuse oururges. All the while, they beat those very same desires out of women because they’re notladylike. It’s not because I’m a man, Crimson. It’s because I’m a human who hasn’t put in the effort to control myself and didn’t have society forcing me to.” His head shakes. “There’s no excuse.”
Is that what happened to me? Did the expectation that I behave in some strictladylikemanner beat out my ability to even recognize desire? Or do I just not have it? I…don’t know. And I guess it doesn’t really matter right now. “If you really want me so badly, I think you have an incredible amount of control. You have been nothing but careful and respectful withme.” Grazing my fingers up his arm, I secure his wrist, bring his hand to my mouth, and kiss his palm. “I know you’re safe. You’ve spent a week being nothing but considerate, preparing me for the worst without pushing me to do anything.”
His throat bobs. “What if I’ve just been taking advantage of you because I want you so badly?”
“Ever since you said you thought I might be asexual, you’ve not suggested we go any further. I notice things like that, Kaleb. You respect me in such thoughtful ways.”
“Basicways, Crimson.” His fingers against my cheek tease my hair as his thumb swipes through my running makeup. “Not asking for sex from someone who doesn’t want it isn’t thoughtful. It’s human decency. A common courtesy. A very,verylow bar.”
“It is among the highest bars I’ve ever seen a man hold.”
“The men you’ve been subjected to are not beacons of any standard that should be held.”
That’s…a fair point.
Sinking, I rest my head against his chest, wrap my arms around him again, and try to prove that he is somehow—fundamentally—different. As my muscles relax and calm overwhelms me, I begin to believe that maybe he is different somehow.Bettersomehow. Safe…somehow. “I appreciate you. I’m so sorry if destroying my pillow freaked you out. If it’s any consolation, it is not the first time I’ve done that after being around my family.”
“That…doesn’t really make me feel better.”
Right. Why would it? I thought maybe he’d be comforted to know that my outburst wasn’t attributed to his presence, but he’s far kinder than that. He’s not just thinking about himself or his role in hurting me. He doesn’t like seeing me hurting, period.
