Elizabeth Finn - Brother's Keeper

Ronnie excuses herself and Marcus for the night, pulling Marcus along with her. Logan and I are finally left alone again, and my body is suddenly anxious and electrified. We settle in on the sectional in the family room, some obscure drama playing out on the TV. Rather than pulling me into his body as has always been Logan’s custom with me, he moves behind me in the corner of the deep and comfortable sofa, straddling my hips and resting a hand on my waist. He lets me move my body back to his at my own speed before he gently wraps his arms around me and nuzzles my neck with his mouth. The warmth of his breath on my skin, starved of his attention, sends a quiver through my entire soul.

I’ve discovered I ache terribly by the end of the day, but on this night I could care less. The electricity coursing through my veins staves off the pain better than any painkiller can. I’ve missed this touch and this closeness. I came to depend on it so much when we were together, and when I lost him I was starved of it. Now I can feel his warmth, his firm body against mine, his scent, I’m finally content again. Pain or no pain, I’m complete. But I’m complete in this moment. What about tomorrow morning when he’s gone again? Can I survive another month without him? And then what? Then how long do I have to wait to see him? Does he want to continue this pseudo-relationship in this way indefinitely? Can I do that? Could I ever be happy with that? The first time I ended our relationship, I knew the answer to that question. No! I knew that his loss would kill me and being with him was simply torturing myself, but now after so long away from him, I’m tired of being alone and I just miss him too damn much to fight it. I just want to feel this contentment. But the reality of tomorrow is there whether I want to acknowledge it or not.

These fleeting encounters won’t make him happy any more than they will make me happy. He’ll eventually want a relationship that is truly present in his life, not sporadic. What makes me think he hasn’t already started seeking it out? He’s beautiful, and whether he chooses to attract attention or not, he’s always gotten it. If it hasn’t happened already, it will happen soon enough, and with me half a country away what choice will he make? What choice should he make? Painful stabs of jealously rack my fragile body at the thought of him with someone else. And as my jealousy takes over, the images of another woman in his life start stabbing my heart. I see him longing for her, I see her touching his body, and I see the hungry look in his eyes before he consumes her. It’s as if I’m watching all the many times we’ve been together, but it isn’t me. It is some faceless, nameless woman who is probably far more beautiful than me, and it hurts. Is this what it is supposed to feel like to lose something you hold so dear?

I don’t want to do this to myself tonight. I desperately want to stop this torture before it takes me over. Why can’t I just shut this part of my mind off? I’ve had too much of this pain for the past few months, and I curse myself for allowing it to come between us now. I wallow in it, trying to hide this most unwelcome shift in my mood from Logan, but he always seems to know what I’m feeling. He tightens his hold on me and nuzzles closer to my neck.

He traces the edge of my ear with his nose grazing and tickling my skin before he whispers in my ear, “Why are you suddenly so tense? What’s wrong? Are you hurting?”

Yes! But not from the pain he thinks. I turn slowly to him, unwelcome tears stinging my eyes, and at once he stills as concern consumes him. He grasps my cheeks in his hands, searching my eyes desperately for some sign of what’s going on inside my head, and as the first of my tears spill over, I bury my head in his chest, craving his warmth and his strength.

He won’t let me hide from him, and he pulls me back from his body determined to make me open up. “Don’t push me away, Row. Please. I can’t leave you like this again, running from me, hiding. I know this is hard, but please just hang on… I…” He trails off wanting to say more, but what? Is he afraid he’ll hurt me? Afraid he’ll piss me off? He looks like he’s in as much agony as I am, and when finally he’s recovered from whatever helpless feelings have so evidently taken him over, he takes my cheeks in his hands again, and running his thumb over my lower lip he speaks. “I’ll be back soon. I will see you. I promise.”

He gives up trying to convince me or talk me through my pain and once again kisses me. I finish turning my body to his, crawling up to straddle his body. Every move I make hurts, but I don’t care, and as I close the last inch between us I can feel his body finally against mine. He’s aroused, and though I know I can offer him no relief, I don’t want to distance myself from him either. He holds me tight against him, and I savor the feel of his erection so firmly against my body.

After a long time of clutching one another, he stands, letting me slowly down to the floor and helps me up to Sara’s room. He closes the door and crawls quietly in next to me. I want to face him or let him curl himself around my body, but lying on my side is impossible with the pain. It makes cuddling nearly impossible as well, but he pulls himself up to his elbow next to me and does the next best thing. He kisses soft trails on the skin of my face. He moves down to my neck, studying my bruises before touching and kissing them as well. He unbuttons my top and trails his kisses lower to my breasts. He pulls one nipple gently into his mouth, running his tongue over the hard erect bud. He moves to the rest of my bruises, covering each with kisses. He stops short of crossing my waistline and doesn’t allow his touch to become more than what either of us can bear. He finally re-clothes me, and lying next to me he laces his fingers through mine and strokes my hand with his thumb. I fall asleep to his deep breathing.

When I wake, it is early and he is gone. This time, he’s left me a note.

Row,

You won’t be sad forever. I promise. I’ll see you soon.

Logan

But I’m already sad.

By the time my first physical therapy appointment is over, I want to punch the therapist. My body is screaming at me, and I want nothing more than to take it out on her. Mindy. I have a feeling I hate her, and like the poop nurse before her I have a feeling we’re not going to be friends. She’s bubbly and optimistic, and she makes me want to burst that stupid bubble she floats around in. It’s not her fault. I know she’s just doing her job, but I’m upset, I’m sad, I’m in pain, and I just want to hit the rewind button and go back to when Logan was still here. But I can’t.

Over the next couple of weeks I continue meeting with Mindy three times a week. I stretch and work the muscles of my body to keep them loose and strong while I’m recovering. The therapy is less about my injuries and far more about keeping the rest of my body as strong as possible. I do deep breathing exercises to keep my lungs healthy as well. When I started, my entire body ached all the time from the bruising and battery I sustained and general atrophy from lack of movement during the first week of my recovery. My body is used to being used, stretched, and exercised, and the lack of use was quite apparent. It was this atrophy more than anything that was going to be difficult for me to rebound from once my ribs are healed.

Thanks to Mindy—yes, I got over hating her—my range of motion and flexibility stayed intact, and two weeks later she approved my returning to Anthony for flexibility training. I continue to see Mindy twice a week and Anthony twice a week as well, and with every passing day my body continues to return to normal in some small measure. My ribs still hurt, but the ache is dull and not nearly as crippling as it initially was. I can breathe deeply without having to psyche myself up for the soreness, and I am back to moving through my ballet positions smoothly, gracefully, and staying in balance. I’m not 100 percent, but I am getting close. I’m not allowed to do any jumps or strenuous moves until six weeks after surgery, but that’s coming up soon enough.