One Plus Two Minus One Ch 10

Robert came home at three in the morning, drunk again. Beth woke up when he opened the front door. She heard him drop his keys in the hallway, heard him stumble coming up the stairs. From the noise he was making, he was worse tonight than he had been the night before.

She rolled over and hoped he'd hurry up and quiet down. She owed him something, and a bit of this was understandable, but if he got into a habit she was going to get sick of being woken up very quickly.

He came into the bedroom. He left the hall light on and the door open and didn't seem to realize, and she didn't bother telling him. He took his clothes off, fell onto the bed, climbed in.

"Hey," she said. "I'm awake."

He was fumbling around under the covers. It took her a minute to realize he was looking for her, groping around until he found her. He slid over, pressed against her back, hugging her, whispering, "Beth," like he was trying to wake her up or something.

"What?"

"Are you awake?"

"Course I am. You fucking stink."

"I'm shitfaced."

"I know."

He put his hand on her tummy, seemed to be pulling at her shirt. "Really fucking shitfaced."

"Yeah."

"I want you."

"I know, but you can't have me."

"No," he said, his hand under her shirt, on her bare breast. "I want you."

She lay there for a moment, not quite sure what to do. He tried to kiss her. His breath stunk, and when he found her cheek, he was slobbery too.

"Stop it," she said.

"I want you, Beth."

"I know, but fuck off."

"You're mine, Beth. I can't let you go."

She reached over and turned on the light and then looked at him for a moment. She was almost worried by that. He didn't normally say such things. She didn't like the idea he thought she was his, and she really didn't like the idea he couldn't let go of her. She wasn't sure if that meant he'd hurt her, or he'd hurt himself, but whatever he meant, him thinking that was her fault.

"What do you mean?" she said. "That you can't let me go?"

"We're meant to be together."

"We might not be," she said carefully. "Not meant to be."

"We are."

He was still playing with her tit. He pinched her nipple a bit hard. He didn't mean to hurt her, she thought, was just drunk and clumsy. He reached down, rubbed her through her underwear.

"Oh shit no," she said. "Fuck off."

He shook his head, and kept trying.

"Robert," she said. "You fucking asshole."

"You're mine, Beth."

Her sympathy was fading fast. "I'm really not."

He'd got his hand inside her underwear, and pushed his fingers into her. She wriggled, tried to get away. She still wasn't sure how seriously to take this.

"Hey," she said. "What the fuck are you doing?"

He slid over, on top of her, trying to pin her down. Holding her down, she thought, on the bed, like Ethan had a dozen times.

She thought about what she liked, and what she'd found out she liked, and how the one time with Robert she'd enjoyed it he'd been holding her wrists.

She thought about how she did actually care for Robert, in a way, and whether it was okay to have one last quickie with someone she was breaking up with. She wondered if Robert would feel better if she did, and she thought about guilt and the mess she'd made.

Suddenly she wasn't so sure she minded if Robert wanted a goodbye fuck.

"Wear a condom," she said.

He shook his head.

"Don't be difficult or I won't," she said.

"I don't want to. Not for your other guy. Not to keep him happy."

"Fuck," she said. "Fine. But go brush your teeth."

"Nope," he said, and kissed her. He tasted pretty bad, and she pushed him away. It didn't matter. She didn't want to kiss him anyway. She didn't want intimacy, even if they were going to have sex.

He started. He pulled off her underwear, moved her legs. He was kneeling over her, looking down at her now.

Not looking down at her, looking down at someone he thought was his. Someone he thought he knew.

Someone else entirely, who he'd never listened to, and wasn't listening to now.

She lay there for a moment and thought about that.

Robert lay down on her. He was heavy on her, was trying to get himself inside her, but not managing to aim right. He was poking into her leg, and she didn't try and help him.

He was trying to fuck her, she thought, and she didn't really feel anything. She was a bit wet, and she didn't mind if they did, but she didn't really want to do this.

She probably shouldn't, she thought, if she didn't really want to. That wasn't right.

"Robert," she said. "I don't want to. Get off me."

He stayed where he was.

She'd almost started to think she might like something like this. To think that Ethan and his wrist-grabbing meant something. She realized she didn't. Ethan and his wrist-grabbing meant a whole lot of different, slightly confusing things, but this here, with Robert, wasn't one of them. This wasn't right. She didn't want to have sex like this.

"Last chance," she said. "I mean it."

He ignored her. He was pissed, and not especially a threat, but he was still planning to fuck her and ignore her telling him not to, that was fairly obvious.

She pushed upwards, tried to get him off. He grabbed at her wrists, tried to hold them. He was drunk and clumsy, so she shook herself free. She pushed again, and he put his whole weight on her, squashed some of the breath out of her.

"Hey," she said. "Stop it," and hit his shoulder. He seemed to ignore it. He was trying to get himself inside her, and she was starting to get scared.

"Robert," she said. "You fucking shit. Get off."

She could feel him hard on her leg. He seemed more turned on now, and that surprised her. Then it didn't. Of course he was turned on. Unlike Ethan holding her down, this was the fantasy he'd never had the balls to ask her to act out.

He was actually going to do this, she realized. She had trouble believing it. He was actually planning to do this to her. He was drunk, and he might be too far gone to know what he was doing, but this wasn't him not hearing, or messing around like Ethan playing kinky games. Robert was actually going to try and fuck her, to rape her, and she couldn't quite believe it was happening.

She punched him.

She punched him as hard as she could. Up between them, into the underneath of his jaw with a closed fist. It made a thud and hurt her hand, and he stopped moving, and looked down at her.

"You hit me," he said. "Shit."

He'd lifted up a little, made some room for her. She hit him again, quite carefully, on his nose. Something got bent inside it, she felt a little squish, like crushing garlic under a knife. She pushed, but he didn't move. She hit him again, missed his face, got his shoulder. By then he'd lifted up enough she could get out from underneath him.

She slid sideways, got off the bed, and went halfway to the door before she looked back. He was sitting on the bed.

She stopped. There was something sticky on her hand, and on her chest. She looked down. His blood.

"What the fuck was that?" she said.

She pulled down her shirt, got herself covered. Pulled on the jeans she'd been wearing earlier.

He didn't move.

"What the fuck, Robert?" she said. "Fuck. You scared me."

"It was just..."

"You thought I wanted you to? "

He looked at her. "I don't know. I was angry."

"You were going to fuck me because you were angry?"

He shrugged.

"Fuck," she said, still getting it clear in her own mind. "You were going to fucking rape me. I know there's some shit going on, and I know you were pissed, but that one was rape. You knew I didn't want to and you did it anyway."

"Beth..."

"Jesus fuck, Robert."

"Beth, I'm so sorry."

"Don't talk to me."

She wanted to cry and wasn't sure why. Relief perhaps. That pissed her off. She was her. She was tough. It was Robert, and she'd fought him off, and she was okay. She should be proud, not upset.

"I'm so sorry," Robert said.

"Get the fuck downstairs and don't come back up here."

"Beth..."

"Fucking go."

He nodded and went.

She thought about a shower, and about vomiting, but decided she wasn't going to let him matter that much to her. She stood there for a while, until she'd calmed down, until her breathing was back to normal, then went down the stairs. She stopped two from the bottom, where she was higher but could see him.

He was on the couch. "Sleep down here," she said. "We'll talk tomorrow."

"Are you okay?"

"No."

"Are you going to be?"

"I hate you."

He went still, looked at her.

"While you were doing that I realized I hate you."

"I didn't mean..."

"I hate you. How could you do that to me?"

"I was angry. I was upset."

"God, I know. That's why I'm so pissed off. I understand. I sort of understand. And part of me still loves you. But I'm so fucking angry at you that you actually did."

He sat where he was for a while.

"Beth, I'll do whatever you want."

She shook her head, and went back up the stairs. She hated him.

Whatever guilt or concern or obligation she'd felt were gone, and she was actually just glad. She wasn't going to make him leave, she wasn't going call the police. She still cared for him, somewhere inside, but now she hated him too. And that made everything so much simpler.

*

Beth left early, before Robert was awake. She wasn't sure how she felt, or how seriously she should take what he'd tried to do. He'd been drunk, but he'd also been a horrible person and she'd never known that he was capable of something like that.

She was angry. She was angry because he'd betrayed her, and in a way humiliated her, and also because it somehow showed no respect for her mind. In an odd way that was the worst of it. She avoided Ethan, deliberately. She didn't want him noticing something was wrong and getting it out of her by being nice while she was feeling vulnerable and weak. She wasn't sure what would happen if Ethan knew, but she could think of a few bad outcomes without even trying hard. That he'd treat her like she was dirty, or needed extra care, or that he'd go off and punch Robert, which would probably get him expelled, since Robert was still staff.

Worst of all, he'd probably stop grabbing her wrists and holding her down on beds. She was pretty sure he'd do that, would just assume he shouldn't without even asking. He would if he was any kind of decent person, anyway, and the conversation to convince him to start again would just be too unbearably awkward.

She avoided Ethan, and thought all morning, and got very little work done. She decided she and Robert probably ought to talk. At least she should throw him out herself, decide that herself, not just let him drift away.

She went home at lunchtime and Robert was still there, probably waiting for her.

She put down her bag, and went and made coffee. He followed her into the kitchen and watched her.

"I'm sorry," he said.

She shook her head. "Don't."

"Do you want me to move out?" he said.

"Yes," she said. "Obviously."

"I will."

"I don't know if I'm going to tell you to move out. Any sooner than you were, I mean."

He looked at her.

"I really don't know," she said. "I'm thinking. I don't know if I can trust you."

"I'm sorry. I'm really fucking sorry. I don't know what I was doing."

"Stop drinking so much."

"I will."

"Some fucking social justice activist," she said.

"That's not..." He stopped.

"You're a cock," she said.

"Are you hurt?"

"What, like bruised or something? No."

He looked relieved. "Are you okay?"

"Emotionally?" she said.

He nodded.

"You tried to rape me, you fucking asshole. I'm a little bit upset."

"I didn't really..."

She threw her coffee at him.

It was hot coffee, and she thought about that and then threw it anyway.

The cup hit his face, bounced onto the floor, and broke.

He stood there and looked at her and touched his face. She hoped it had burned him. She threw the next thing she could find, a bowl. That hit his chest, hard, like it would leave a bruise. Bounced off and broke too.

Then she turned around and went upstairs.

She sat on the edge of the bed for a while and realized she was shaking. She wasn't sure what she should be doing now. Telling him to leave, telling him never to come back. She didn't want to do either, but didn't know what she did want to do.

She went back downstairs and sat on the step two from the bottom. Feet on the bottom step, sitting on the next one up. Not touching the actual floor.

"Hey," she said.

He sat up. He'd been lying on the couch.

"I don't know," she said.

He waited.

"I don't know if I want you to go. I also don't know if I want you to stay."

He nodded.

"That can never happen again. Nothing to even make me think it will. Nothing to worry me."

"I promise."

"No more drinking. Not more not listening when I tell you something."

"Okay."

"If I ever do get worried, I'll cut off your balls and then call the police."

He looked at her.

"I fucking mean it. I'll get a kitchen knife and do my best to stab you. I might not get it right, but it won't be much fucking fun for you. Then I'll call the cops while you're lying there bleeding."

"I believe you."

"Okay."

She sat a bit longer.

"You need to keep trying to find somewhere."

"I am."

"Actually try. Not putting it off. Not some bullshit where you tell me you are, but end up getting your own way and staying because it's too much hassle for me to get you to do anything."

"I don't..."

"Yeah, you do," she said. "So shut up."

He went quiet.

"I won't have Ethan around here for the next few days," she said. "Probably. But no promises."

Robert looked upset for a moment.

"Yeah," she said. "Tough shit. I can't go to his place, but we'll make do."

"Okay."

"And you're not living here, you're a guest, you're staying, and I'll throw you out at a moment's notice if I get worried. I'm not promising you a thing."

"Beth, please..."

He looked miserable. He had no right to look miserable, but he did.

"Oh yeah, and fuck you," Beth said. "By the way. You caused this."

"Do you actually want me to stay?"

"No."

"So why this?"

"I feel guilty. I owe you."

He was looking at her.

"Guilt," she said. "That's all. So do it my way, or make it easy for me to tell you to fuck off now."

"Okay."

She looked at him.

"Okay," he said. "There's nothing I can do about it, so okay."

"Good. You're down here, don't come upstairs."

He nodded.

"Okay," she said, and didn't know whether to be upset or relieved that he was staying. "I want you gone. Try and make it quick."

*

Beth was letting Robert stay, but she was still angry with him. Twice the next day she threw things at him, for no real reason, just walked past and was unaccountably angry and hurled whatever was to hand. It actually helped. It was strange, but having him around to treat like that made her feel a little better.

"Hurry up and find somewhere else," she said after she'd thrown her wooden fruit bowl towards his head. There were four apples on the floor.

"I'll go," Robert said, picking them up. "Do you want me to go right now?"

"Yes," she said. Then, "No."

She went upstairs, then came back down, and said, "You have until the weekend."

Then she phoned Ethan and told him that too, that Robert would be gone in a week, no matter what, and then everything would be fine.

She avoided Robert. They didn't see each other that much, and part of her was glad. She hoped maybe they could just drift apart, and he would go, without them really seeing each other any more.

It seemed to work. Robert stayed out later, was at his office more. Beth got used to wandering around the flat alone, being in bed before he got back. She saw Ethan, but not at home, and kissed him, and wanted him, but managed to make herself wait.

Except one night when they had sex in her office, and she was glad of that too. Everything was normal. Everything was fine. Robert hadn't changed anything with Ethan, as far as she could tell.

She came home late that night, and Robert asked where she'd been.

"Fucking, Robert. What the fuck do you think I was doing?"

"Oh," he said.

"Why ask?" she said. "Why push it when you know, and make me actually say it, and hurt you?"

"I was worried," he said.

"What?" she said. "That I'll get raped?"

Robert went pale and looked away and didn't speak to her again that night.

*

The next evening, the Thursday, she got home and found him in the kitchen eating a sandwich and drinking whiskey.

"Sandwich for dinner?" she asked, and ignored the liquor.

He nodded.

She held up a supermarket bag. "Frozen dinner."

"Have dinner with me?"

She stood there for a while, then said, "Yeah, okay."

She put her box in the microwave, and watched it spin around. "How are you doing?" she said, feeling she should ask.

"Honestly?"

She shrugged. "I suppose."

"It could be worse."

She turned around. She didn't quite understand, but she was glad that he felt that way. "How so?"

"You could be with someone I envy."

The microwave beeped. Beth got her dinner, peeled the plastic off the top, and left it to sit for a minute.

She decided not to ask about the envy thing. Robert was older, she supposed, and had a career. Something like that.

"The hardest thing," Robert said. "Is knowing you're doing things to someone else you used to do to me."

"To?"

"Yeah, to. Does that make sense?"

"Like not with? What I do is what counts? Not what he does to me?"

Robert nodded.

"Yeah, that kind of makes sense."

"Thank you for giving me time to find somewhere," he said.

She shrugged.

"And I am sorry," he said.

"Don't."

He nodded.

Beth scooped up her dinner and went and sat at the table. Robert pushed a placemat over, so she didn't get steam on the wood, and she thought for a moment that they did actually fit together, as a couple, surprisingly well. Except for how he was a shit.

"I always respected your work," Robert said. "And I don't think you ever did mine."

Beth didn't answer. She couldn't, because it was true, and had been from the very beginning.

"It's not you," she said at last. "It's just I don't get..."

"Anything that isn't abstract algebra?"

"Yeah."

"I just thought it might make a difference if you knew that. That I respect you, and your work. That I never meant to put you down or anything."

"Okay," she said.

They sat there for a while.

"This is nice," Robert said.

"Yeah," Beth said, and actually meant it.

"You look like you've lost weight," Robert said.

"Yeah, maybe." Hours of sex a day for months. "Not eating properly."

"Take care of yourself." He seemed to be looking at her. "Are you wearing a bra?"

She wasn't. She'd been with Ethan in her office, had only dressed enough to get to the supermarket and home. It was in her bag.

It was the strangest thing. She felt grubby and awkward, like her dad had caught her without one on, and that was a really worrying sign for how she felt about Robert.

"Nope," she said.

Robert just that there. He seemed to feel awkward too.

"Just trying something," she said.

He nodded.

They talked about work for a while. About where they'd always wanted to go on holidays. Beth wondered if they'd ever get to travel together after all, then realized they wouldn't, and realized that planning those trips they'd never taken might have been the strongest connection they'd ever actually had.

"Hey," Beth said, because she'd been needing to say it for days, and they were actually talking. "Don't say anything about Ethan and I won't say anything about rape."

"Yeah," Robert said. "I know."

She looked at him for a while.

"Of course that's what we'll do. I assumed. I know you. I haven't said anything."

"What do you mean of course?"