Anger

Anger Chapter 3 – Loneliness – The Final Chapter.

Author' Note: There is no sex in this chapter. Thanks for the suggestions and support. I hope you enjoy the story.

She puts her head on my chest, her hand on my abdomen. I stroke her hair drowsily. The thought of waking with Emily warm and close fills me to overflowing. I am perfectly in balance; the world will wait for me. The emotional and physical activities of the day call me to slumber. I close my eyes on the best day of my life.

I wake an hour later to Emily stirring. She wears a satisfied smile and nothing else. She stretches long with reaching hands and pointing toes, the bed vibrates with her tensing muscles. She lets out a long sigh of contentment. As I quietly watch her, an unconscious grin spreads across my face.

She looks at me and the smile slides right off her face, replaced by confusion then concern. She glances at her watch arm and groans forgetting she didn't wear a watch. She rolls to sitting her eyes scanning.

"Is everything okay?" I ask with concern at her back as she rises from the bed.

"I need to get going. Where's your bathroom?" She asks while scooping up her bathing suit bottom. I point to the bathroom door. She turns toward the door and turns back around, saying,

"Where's my top?" It sits next to me on the bed. I toss it to her saying,

"You're welcome to stay."

"No, I have to go."

"I'd like you to stay."

"I have to go!" she says impatiently.

"Alright." Elevator going down. I am confused and anxious. She enters the bathroom and closes the door while I pick out underwear, pants and tee shirt to drive her back to her car. I'm trying to ignore the growing hole in my chest.

I hear the water run and I imagine her scrubbing all evidence of me from her body. She leaves the bathroom in her bathing suit. She keeps her head down not looking at me.

"Emily, borrow any clothing you want, check the closet for shirts and the bottom drawer of the dresser has pants."

"No it's alright, I don't want to borrow your clothes."

"It's early in the season, it can get chilly at night... you can keep whatever you find."

"Thank you, Matthew."

I walk into the bathroom in a fog. I wash while trying to control my panic. How do I make her change her mind? Physical challenges are a matter of skill and strength and can be practiced to perfection. I've embraced many physical challenges – no problem.

Mental challenges are a matter of knowledge and creativity. I am creative and knowledge can be attained through study. I've successfully resolved many mental challenges – no issues there.

In matters of the heart, I'm a novice. I've never wanted to keep someone close to me before. I don't know what to do. What do I say or do to stop Emily from walking out of my life forever? I thought I touched her, I thought she gave herself to me. She gave me her real name. Well, her real first name, anyway.

I stay much longer than necessary, trying to hatch a plan. Nothing comes. In despair, I walk out of the bathroom with a plan to wing it. She stands there lost in an oversized flannel shirt and baggy sweat pants. She actually makes the ensemble look good. My ridiculous clothing accentuates her femininity by highlighting her smaller, curvier frame.

It's uncanny how she chose my favorite clothing. She sweetly picked the rattiest things I own, figuring I wouldn't miss them, but they're ratty because I wear them all the time. Comfort is the name of that game. In all honesty, I'm glad I got to see her in my favorite clothing and I don't mind not seeing them again.

"Is this okay?" she asks sheepishly.

"Yeah, that's fine... Emily..."

"I really need to go." She interjects.

"I need to speak..."

"Look, I asked you to fuck me and you did. You helped save my marriage, thanks."

There's a term in rock climbing – gripped. Being gripped means the icy hand of terror squeezes the courage from you, freezing you in place. You convince yourself the next move will be your death. So you cling to the rock while panic claims your mind and saps your strength.

It's really quite insidious. You see, you can't cling to the rock forever - arms and legs shake with fatigue and you will fall if you don't make your move. The longer it takes to tame your mind, the less chance you have of making the next move. It's a nightmarish situation that feeds on itself wolfishly.

I feel the symptoms coming on, but I've been gripped before. I'm not going to fall off this rock face through inaction. I'm going to make my move. If I fall, so be it. I tried.

"Emily, I didn't fuck you. I made love to you the best I know how. And it was the most satisfying, gratifying, complete sexual experience of my life, it wasn't even close."

Color rises to her cheeks as she replies,

"Yeah, it was nice." She still won't look at me.

"It was nice?" I ask disappointed.

"Yes, it was nice. I told you what I wanted. I told you I loved my fiancé. I told you all I wanted was sex. I didn't deceive you. What did you think was going to happen? Why do you want me to feel bad?"

"I don't want you to walk out of my life forever."

"I thought you understood, no attachments. No complications, didn't you understand?"

"Why did you say 'I'm yours'?"

"You can't blame me for that, it was said in the heat of passion."

"What 'heat of passion'? You said it was nice. There's no 'heat of passion' in nice."

"I have to go, please drop me off at my car." She turns and walks out of my bedroom. I grab my keys and follow with a distinct falling feeling.

I've unconsciously made the threshold from the kitchen to the garage a demarcation line. If she walks over the threshold, I've lost her. She approaches the door and in a panic I grab her arm and spin her about.

"EMILY!" I yell in desperation.

"Stop it, you're scaring me." I can't think of anything to say, I just blurt out,

"If you want me, I'm yours." I hang my head in despair.

"Yeah, okay." She nods and turns to open the door. She stops with her hand on the knob and suddenly wheels around in fury, yelling,

"WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT? You don't even know what that means? We're going to live happily ever after in Neverland, Peter Pan?"

"No. I haven't planned out our lives together, I just know that I have feelings for you."

"Congratulations. Have a stiff drink, go to sleep and you'll forget about it tomorrow when one of your floozies strut by."

"You think this happens to me all the time?"

"Look, I have responsibilities. He works for the same company as me, we have the same coworkers, we have the same friends, our families go boating together every God damned month. We've been planning this wedding for a year. I've been dating him for six years. You're saying pack up my old life, throw it away and be with you. Why? Because I met you, and we fucked. Tempting but NO!" She says outraged.

"Why were you looking for someone to fuck?" I ask calmly.

"I told you that," she replies in exasperation.

"Not really. Why did YOU agree to this?"

"We decided this was the only way we could purge..." she explains.

"Emily, you did it because if he feels a fraction of the pain you felt, he wouldn't cheat again." She stares hard at the floor but doesn't respond.

"Yes?" I ask. She still doesn't respond.

"Emily, he's not going to feel what you feel. If your roles were reversed, would you let him leave the house? What did he say when you left this morning? Have a nice day? Maybe, go get 'em tiger?" Her face colors with anger.

"He didn't know today was the day."

"You know what I'm saying to you Emily."

"No, I don't. I don't choose YOU. I CHOOSE HIM. Now stop bothering me." She yells.

"I apologize, FOOL is a new role for me, I don't know if I'm playing it right."

"You're playing it to a tee."

Grasping her waistband, I thrust down sweat pants and bathing suit down to her thighs. I grab her ass and rake my fingers, claw like, across her, leaving red scratch marks on her buttocks.

"Owww." She screams and slaps my face hard. I don't move. I just wait for her judgment. She looks at the scratches and pulls up her pants. She slaps me again, then a third time. I don't block; I don't evade. I will receive punishment if she deems I deserve it. I don't welcome it, but the slaps distract me from the sucking hole in my chest. She stares at me glassy eyed while I say,

"I just thought that fuck head should know how I want you."

"Take me to my car." She says her voice breaking. She opens the door and steps over the threshold. I am defeated. The fact that I made my move is little consolation. I have fallen; it's the same result.

I watch her march out of my kitchen in my favorite clothes. It's hard to breathe. I robotically follow. She gets in the passenger side and I get behind the wheel.

Everything is wrong. But I know all the moves without thinking. I start the car and back out of the driveway, I'm an excellent driver. Yes excellent, even with an aching stone for a heart. It weighs so much and it's difficult to carry.

I drive. I don't yell or pound the dashboard. I don't grasp and shake her explaining how wrong she is about every single aspect of her situation. I drive. I drive so she can leave me forever and get back into his arms. I drive because I'm an adult and adults do things they don't want to do, or so I'm told.

Minutes later I pull into a gravel parking lot near the beach where I first met her. A single streetlight poorly illuminates a small circle of warm yellow light and is completely surrounded by the cold silver light of the moon.

A black Mercedes sits alone in the empty lot. I pull in beside side it. Her door opens and she steps out before I've come to a complete stop. She slams the door hard enough to make the car rock on its suspension.

She bolts to her car, reaches into the wheel well retrieving a key, and opens the door. 'Don't let her go. Don't let her go. Don't let her go,' rolls through my mind. Logically, I can't force matters of the heart. I know that.

'Chase her down!' While clutching the door handle, I hear her engine roar to life, followed by tires throwing gravel. She reverses out of her space, and then rockets toward the exit.

Her car fishtails, leaving ruts and throwing pebbles that ping my car, but she doesn't ease up on the gas. The tires squeal when they hit pavement. And like a tornado, as quickly as she entered my life, she leaves it. And nothing is the same.

I sit still for a moment trying to order my thoughts. I know what to do. I get out of my car and run toward the boardwalk that leads over the dunes to the beach. I hit the beach and start removing clothing throwing them in the sand while I run to the waiting ocean. A silver line of reflected moonlight leads out to sea. I run for it.

The ocean always returns me to balance and I desperately need her tonight. She usually plays, teases or challenges me, but tonight I need to fight. I run naked into the surf, water flying from my feet. Plowing through the water, my legs slow till I get overbalanced and dive.

I throw my fury at her. Slamming my body into her crashing waves. She throws me down, rolls me over and slams me into the bottom. I get up and scream in impotent rage. I hurl my body at her and again I am easily tossed aside. My strength is too puny to compare to her immense power.

I fight and struggle in our one-sided contest until I can't go on. I gasp for breath. I am spent. The rushing white water reflecting the moonlight washes over me rhythmically.

I lay on my back dizzy with exertion, waiting for recovery. During the contest, I've drifted a quarter-mile north and need to walk back to my car and clothing.

It's chilly out and I'm naked and wet. I start to walk back, preoccupied. I hear a group of people out for a night stroll on the beach. In a daze, it doesn't occur to me that I'd appear unusual. I hear giggling and laughter.

I look up and all eyes are on me. I scan their faces, three young couples walk arm in arm. One of the young men speaks up.

"Hey buddy, this isn't a nude beach." General laughter ensues.

"Yeah." I reply nodding my head.

The pretty girl he has by the waist smiles at me. This girl has a soul smile. It's an open welcoming smile. When I've fallen into darkness, a woman with a soul smile can reach in after me and pull me out into the warm light. It's like she embraces my soul from afar, lifting me.

I want to smile back at her, I appreciate her reaching out to me, but I can't. I think my turmoil appears on my face because her smile falls. I've pulled her down here with me. She asks worriedly,

"Are you alright?"

"Yes, I'm fine." I answer striding past. I'm a loner. Would someone else seek solace in her warm concern? I sense they stop and watch my back for a moment. I hear comments and giggling. They turn and continue their leisurely walk.

The wind has blown sand onto my clothing, I don't bother putting them on. I pull them out of the sand and shake them off. Looking back at the ocean, I speak to Mother,

"Scars connecting me and Emily." I laugh spitefully. It's not funny at all and it really doesn't have anything to do with scars. I did what I did and it's over. I speak honestly to her,

"Mother, this one's gonna hurt."

Mother whispers what she always whispers to me,

"Let it be."

I inhale deeply, hold a moment, and then exhale completely. I walk back to my car and drive home alone.

********

Three weeks later I check the announcements for her marriage. I can't find anything. No Emily was married, but since I'm not positive what city or county she lives in, her family name, what paper it would appear, I can't be sure of anything. Now if I read a listing for a thirtyish beauty marrying a six-foot pile of shit, I could be sure. There's no such listing.

********

A week later I sit on the railing of the local pier jutting bravely out into the ocean. Large swells crash into the pilings making the pier vibrate. The sun is setting on another beautiful day, but my mind is elsewhere.

"You're not going to jump, are you?" It's her! I whip around wide-eyed mouth open. She looks wonderful, positively buoyant in a white blouse, blue jeans and sandals. Jealousy pierces my heart. I try to smile to bravely match her happy state, but I fail miserably. I feel small and unworthy next to her. I look out at the ocean to cover my foolishness.

Is there some kind of cosmic conservation law for the human condition? When I met her, I was touching the clouds and she was in agony. Now are situations have reversed, like one has to balance the other.

"No, I'm not gonna jump." I try to sound bored. Emily and the pile of shit must have worked out their differences.

"How are you?" She asks. I turn to her and look into her large blue eyes alight with warmth and I know I won't lie to her.

"I'm lonely and I've never felt that before." She looks away from me. I don't know if it's because she wanted a light conversation and I stepped over the line or I evoked emotion in her she doesn't want me to see. She doesn't respond so I continue,

"You even come at me in my dreams."

"Do you know why I picked you?" She asks quietly.

"I was handsome, from a distance, you thought I was 25 instead of 35, and I was fit and stupid." She chuckles still looking down.

"No, that's not it." Her eyes glassy with emotion she looks into my eyes, and continues, "You looked so happy out there, I thought if anyone could help me it was you."

"Is that why you sassed me?" She shakes her head and explains,

"No, I sassed you because you looked so happy until you saw me. I thought everyone could see I was damaged... it hurt."

"No, that's not right, you intimidated me. You looked so beautiful and confident and stylish I... Let's just say previous meetings with people like that didn't go well."

"I love that you just admit your weaknesses and let the chips fall. There's strength in that." She smiles, lifting me.

"Thanks."

"And I was right, you did help me... I didn't marry Jeff." I slide off the railing and sidle up to Emily, moving into her space; she doesn't retreat.

"You aren't married?" I ask with a grin spreading across my face.

"No." She answers with a grin of her own. I take her in my arms and kiss her deeply, desperately. She tenses then eases into the kiss and I kiss her again and again. Our lips part and I hug her tightly.

"I miss you, Emily," I say running my fingers through her hair.

"I miss you too." Her warm hands slide over my shoulders.

I'm enjoying the incredible warmth of her. I breathe in her scent. I feel the latent heat of her kiss. I hear her soothing voice. I am hers. The knot in my chest loosens. I take a deep contented breath.

"I need to take you home right now." Clasping her hand, we walk down the pier quickly. She giggles and asks,

"You dreamed about me?" She glances sidelong at me: I can tell she's pleased.

"Yes, you kissed me deeply and I..." I hesitate not knowing how she'll take this.

"What?" She encourages.

"I came really hard. I uh, woke wet... and happy."

"We need to get going," she says urgently pulling my hand as she steps into a jog.

The End.

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