This month has been a weird one. I screwed up my pills the first week of the pack and got off to a rocky start and this week, the last of the active pills, I accidentally doubled up one day which set the stage for tears and knee-jerk irritations on Monday and a weird sense of disconnection Tuesday.
Monday night as I laid out all the day’s mini-turmoils I burst into tears [again] when I shared with The Neighbor how when my little 8:30 alarm on my phone went off I thought of Peyton. It’s a thing I started doing recently to ensure I put my little one to bed on time and leave the room at a decent hour. Typically we do a little dance on our backs and giggle and kiss and fling our arms in the air. It’s a highlight of my day and on Monday when it went off and I didn’t have my baby with me I instantly burst into tears, the pain of being separated as acute as the first night I ever spent away.
When the tears sprung to my eyes, TN sprung to my side. It was such a tender move, so kind, I melted into the moment and let his kindness wash over me, so boyfriend-like. We retired to my room later and cuddled. He expressed interest in sex, but my heart was too heavy, I felt too far away from myself, and I said, “Not tonight.”
The next night I had no tears, but I felt prickly, like I had this carpet of spines wrapped around me. TN popped over and I was watching Girls by the fire doing my nails and I honestly felt interrupted. He hung out for a little while and let me finish, but I didn’t want to stay there. I felt a quiet frustration at our routine and said, “I want to cuddle at your place.”
“Ok,” he said.
I didn’t think it’d be that easy to convince him. It’s been months since we spent any time over there. Maybe since October. I’ve neatly packed away that fact so it won’t get in my way of happiness, but last night I wanted to neatly step over it.
We walked next door and I smelled the sweet smell of his space, saw the little piles of his life he had on the kitchen table, the dishes in the sink, the glowing computer screen, the messy bathroom. It felt like walking on the moon. His room was clean, and his funny bed, the mattress on the floor inside the bed frame, was unmade and piled high with bedding.
We lit candles and laid down close to the ground and talked and cuddled. I stroked his cock and he ran his hands over my body. I asked him to not rub his hands near my pubis; it was irritating me. He pulled me closer and kissed me.
And then he kissed me again and again and again checking in to see if the irritation was falling away. It was.
He wasn’t trying to change my mind about having sex, he was genuinely trying to improve my mood.
He cuddled me from behind and from the front. He stroked my face and hair. He was so inside of me I felt cracked open, happy, a little scared.
Then, with a smile, he said, “You’re going to be leaving soon.” We laughed our asses off because that’s what he always says to me from the softness of my mattress. We cuddled some more and I told him I was about to say that myself. He piled covers on me and loved on me some more and then it was finally time to leave.
He walked me to the door and I passed to mine through the freezing night and walked to my cold, empty bed with the memory of his arms around me and his heart in my hands.