That’s not the real question, though. The real question is would I have gone through with it? I remember the way I froze, caught up in the sensations running through my body. Even now, just thinking about it, there’s a slow throb growing between my legs. It would have been so easy to tell him yes. To let him slide my skirt up over my hips and yank my underwear down. To lean back and spread my thighs for him. To give in to the lust and let him help me forget everything for a little while.
I let my hand slide down between my legs. My pajama pants are pretty thin, and even the lightest touch against myself through the fabric sends a tremor through my body. I promised myself I’d stay away from men for a while, but that doesn’t mean I can’t satisfy myself. I let a single finger drift along the ridge between my legs. A small sigh escapes my lips. I imagine myself naked on my back, a figure with hard muscles and auburn hair leaning over me…
No.
I yank my hand away. I’m not going to let myself fantasize about Ward. Indulging those sorts of thoughts is only encouraging them. I need to get him out of my mind, not get myself more sexually riled up over him. I remind myself of all the things he implied about my family, and that tempers my mood a little.
I throw off my blanket and climb out of bed. I should stop pretending I’m going to get any sleep tonight. I walk over to the dresser and grab my laptop. I bought this computer when I first left for Thailand, hoping to stay connected with the rest of the world while I was off looking for my purpose. When it was brand new, it was one of the most hi-tech, swankiest laptops on the market, but it’s about five years old now and it takes a good ten minutes to boot up. I draw one knee up to my chest and wait patiently for the startup screen, trying not to think. I’d almost prefer the emptiness again than the madness in my head right now.
My computer’s finally awake, and I force myself to let out a long breath as I open the Internet browser. Maybe I’ll just drown myself in kitten videos until I’m drunk on the utter adorableness.
But it doesn’t matter how many kittens or puppies or tiny baby bunnies I watch. The videos don’t make me feel any better. They’re just another distraction, and they’re not nearly as effective as someone’s tongue in my mouth or his fingers moving between my legs.
After a while, I give up and pull up my email. I don’t get a lot of messages these days—it’s funny how many friends abandon you when you no longer have any money—but sometimes my brother sends me things. He’s started messaging me regularly, updating me on his life and asking how I’m doing. Apparently he’s engaged now. I read every message from him, sometimes multiple times, but I can’t bring myself to answer. Mostly because I’d rather not say anything than lie to him. If he knew where I was right now, he’d kill me.
Still, I like knowing that he’s okay. It makes me feel a little better to know that one of us, at least, has managed to get their act together.
I’m due for another email from him any day now, but it’s not my brother’s name I see when I open my inbox. Instead, it’s the only name that could make me feel even worse tonight.
Ian Dennings.
Ian. Ian has emailed me. It’s been almost two months since I ran from him and Cunningham Cares, and this is the first time he’s tried to contact me. The way things ended between us, I’m almost afraid to look at the subject line, but my eyes drift over against my will. All it says is, “Hi.”
My breath is stuck in my throat. Why is he emailing me now? I can only imagine the things he wants to say to me. I used him. I broke his heart. I ran away without even an apology.
I should just delete it. Reading this email will only open up an old can of worms, and I’m not sure I want to go there. I’m not sure I have the emotional strength to go there, not with everything this house has dragged up again.
But I refuse to be any more of a coward than I already am. I open the message before I have the chance to talk myself out of it.
Lou —
I hope all is well with you. I returned from Chiang Mai last week. We finished our addition on the children’s home and are already in the planning stages for another on the other side of the region. I might go back in October. I haven’t decided yet.
I know you probably don’t want to hear from me. I don’t wish to intrude, but I wanted to extend an apology. I didn’t handle things well between us. It never should have started in the first place (and I take full responsibility for that), but it also never should have ended the way it did. I apologize for everything. I’ve been looking into opportunities for reassignment with Cunningham Cares. If you wish to return to your position at the Chiang Mai division, I can make sure I won’t be there.
But Lou — maybe it’s inappropriate to say this, but I can’t just let it go. I can’t stop thinking about you. I told you that night that I loved you, and I thought those feelings would fade, but they haven’t. I’ve done a lot of thinking since you left. I told myself it was better for both of us to move on, and I’ve genuinely tried, but time and again my thoughts return to you. My feelings haven’t changed or faded.
If you want to cut ties completely, I understand. I will respect your wishes. But if there’s any part of you that wishes to see me again, if only to let me apologize in person… I don’t know if this is out of line, but I have some free time these days and I’m willing to travel to wherever you are. Please consider it. If you’ve already moved on, or if you’ve met someone else, then I wish both of you the best. Know that, Lou, wherever you are and whatever you’re doing—I want you to be happy.
I read through it four times just to make sure I haven’t gone completely insane. I don’t know what I was expecting, but it wasn’t this. Not an apology. Not more talk about love.
I’d rather have gotten anger. Hatred. I certainly deserve it. Instead, he’s apologizing to me. Like he was the one who’s done something wrong. He’s offering to give up his position—the work he was born to do—to make me comfortable. This—I don’t know what to do with this.
There he is, in my mind: my sweet, generous Ian, his arms open and his eyes full of forgiveness. He was always so quick to let things go, to see the good in people and forget the bad things they’ve done. Even when those people didn’t deserve it. We both know that I’m the awful one. The selfish one.
I slam my laptop closed and get off the bed. I don’t know how to deal with this right now. I don’t know what I could possibly reply to make this better, or if I should even reply at all. Maybe it’s better to ignore his message. To let him go, for his own sake.