Page 8 of Travis

Irecognizethelook.It’s been a while since I’ve seen it, but I recognize it all the same. She didn’t have it in her eyes for ages. It was lost when we started realizing that having a baby wasn’t going to be so easy. But that fire is alive in there tonight. I set aside the fact that we’re both very drunk, and I test the waters, letting myself lean in, to see if she’ll do the same. Or if she’ll pull back and run. Her lips touch mine softly, but I let her make the second pass, fearing that I’ll break the spell by coming on too strong.

Suddenly her fingers are in my hair and I’m pulling her into my lap, as we kiss, like we haven’t kissed in a long time. I lift her, holding her close to me, while I turn the little Disney Princess themed bolt lock on the door. It feels so goddamn good to have her in my arms again. I’ve missed her so badly it’s made me ache every time I think about her. Lips softer than I remember, sweeter, too, I kiss my wife like I’ve wanted to kiss her since we split up. I don’t think about what this means. I don’t think about if she wants me back, or if this is just a temporary relapse, or a lapse in judgement. I just make love to my wife the way we made love before all the bad stuff happened.

The little cry in her throat tells me that she’s just as needy as I am. “It’s okay, love.” I whisper between kisses. And it’s like I give her permission to proceed, because her tongue finds mine, and my cock wakes up, as my hands travel up her shirt, while I find my way to the bed. Stripping my shirt off, I hover over her, so hungry for her, I feel like I’m suddenly sober. With fumbling hands, she undoes my fly, and tears down my pants, as I wriggle out of them, and make quick work of pulling her shirt over her head. We both get her pants down, and don’t think twice as we join together, skin-to-skin, wrapping our arms and legs around each other, like we haven’t seen each other in decades.

And for the first time in as long as I can remember, we don’t get into the perfect baby-making position, and she isn’t murmuring, ‘God, let this time be the one’ in my ear. My lips are on hers, my hands are under her, holding her, drinking her in, as I enter her, letting out a strong moan of relief as I connect with my wife the way I’ve wanted to for so long. A soft gasp comes from her, too, as I start moving, stretching her, feeling all of her. My kisses move to her neck and then to her breasts as her back arches, taking it in, letting herself go, enjoying sex for what it is.

Our bodies slap lightly together, as the single bed squeaks from under us, barely audible over our choppy breathing and soft moaning and music blaring from downstairs. I lock eyes with her for a moment, and mouth, “I love you, baby.” I wait for her to say it back, but I don’t focus on the fact that she doesn’t. It feels so goddamn good and I know that she’s feeling it, too, because she’s already tightening, in that delicious snowball effect, where all the sensations start to build up. And as her body starts to quicken, I pump her harder, kissing her breasts, giving her everything that I’ve got and more, as we climax together, letting go of all the sexual tension between us.

The explosion is so intense, I see stars from behind my eye sockets, as my lids lock together and the veins bulge from my neck. Becky’s cries are epic, and something I haven’t heard since Christ was a goddamn cowboy, and it occurs to me that this is the best sex we’ve had since before we were married. It was so fixed, so mechanical, when we were trying to conceive. We tried not trying for a while, too, but nothing compares to this. And as I lay on her, while our chests heave in unison, I try not to think about what’s coming next.

My lips keep touching her shoulder, up and down, as I kiss her tenderly, trying to get as much of her as I can. Her skin is so beautiful and soft, and I’ve missed it so much, it hurts to think about it. I say nothing, not wanting to ruin the moment, and I just hold her tight, hoping like hell that this is the end of the end. But something tells me that it’s not. As I lift my head from her shoulder, I lean on my elbow, just looking at her. “I missed you so much.” I whisper.

She just swallows, and I’ve said too much. I pull myself out of her and lie next to her, as we squish together on the single bed. My hand takes hers, and I interlace my fingers with hers, stroking the inside of her palm softly. And then I think, well, fuck it, I’m going all or nothing here, so I wrap my arms around her, and she lays on her side, so I can spoon her. And that’s one thing that we always did after making love, and if that’s all I get, I’ll take it. I hear her breathing turn shallow and know that she’s asleep, so I’m careful not to move. I lay awake for a while, holding my wife, praying like hell that tomorrow will be a new beginning for us.

…but I guess I didn’t pray hard enough.

I wake up to her feverishly putting her clothes on, covering herself when she sees my eyes open. “What’s the matter? You sick?” I ask, voice husky from sleep.

“No.” she says flatly.

“Where are you going, baby? Come back to bed.” I get up, one eye still closed, feeling my head pound and regret set in.

“No, Travis.” She says pointedly. “I am not coming back to bed, and you should leave.”

“Why? I was invited to come to this party, too, you know.”

“Well, if my sister sees us in bed together…I just…I don’t want her getting any ideas.”

“Becky, we’re married. It’s okay to make love.”

She gives me a look, sliding her arm into her bra strap. “We’re separated, and what happened last night was nothing but just a drunken mistake, and I’m sorry I let it happen.”

“What was so wrong about it, Becky? That we were drunk?” I grab my underwear off the floor and slide my feet into them.

“Everything was wrong about it, Travis. We were stupid to let it happen.”

“Why? It wasn’t stupid, baby. It was the best sex we’ve had in ages.”

“Stop calling me baby.” She tuts. “And it was a mistake, Travis.”

I sigh heavily. “I still don’t get why it was a mistake, Becky.”

Her legs go into her pants. “Because, Travis, I’m working through some things. I can’t take a step back. This is not acceptable. I should never have had that first drink. It all went downhill from there.”

“I don’t see the federal case here. You had some fun with family and friends, had a few drinks, we made love, we didn’t slaughter any puppies or hold up a bank, Becky. We had some fun.”

She huffs. “Travis, you don’t understand. I’m…” she stuffs her hands in her hair. “God, I can’t believe I’m telling you this.”

I lift a hand, after sliding one leg through my pantleg. “Becky, if you don’t want to tell me, you don’t have to. I respect that.”

Before she loses her nerve, she blurts. “I’m in therapy. But don’t…tell anyone. God, not even Sara or my mama know.”

“Well, why’d y’all tell me then?” I ask, knowing full well that it’s only something that’ll bite me in the ass later.

“Because I need you to know why this was a mistake. I’m working through some things and having sex with my ex-husband completely negates the work I’ve done.”

My skin crawls when she calls me her ex-husband. I am not. I still call her my wife. The sentiment stings. “Becky, making love to someone you love is no sin, in my book.” I can’t look at her. If she doesn’t love me anymore, I think I’ll die right here on the fucking muppet plush carpet.

---