Joy was at her Friday afternoon class, but Lawrence had the day off. He'd done some cleaning around the apartment, but now he stood in front of the calendar, staring at today's empty square.
By evening it would still be empty.
The shiny new packet of pills was still there on the marker ledge. He'd leave it there, to remind her of the choice they'd made together.
But I have to wait.
She hadn't really missed a pill, yet, after all. She'd spoken her intention, but she hadn't followed through. He should give her until tomorrow evening, to be certain.
He growled, turning from the calendar, looking for any distraction. His eyes settled on a basket just inside the bedroom door.
Laundry.
He carried the basket to the machine.
Her hoodie wasn't here, of course. She'd be wearing it right now. He could picture her round eyes looking out at him from the hood, and her fingers curling together. And as he transferred their clothing to the machine, he could smell her.
Her soft female sweat, and the tiniest bright hint of oranges, mixed into his clothing.
Mine.
He wanted to rush to her school; to find her and drag her into a bathroom stall or janitor's closet to rut into her. He wanted to hear her cry for him again, and see the tears dripping to her jaw and down her throat while his semen spurted in her body.
But he reminded himself--yet again, with some difficulty--that he had time with her. There was no hurry with Joy, who'd shown her pleasure with him--her devotion to him--at every turn.
She was a marvel.
A pain struck him then, as he realised how much of his life he'd been without her.
He'd had relationships before. Several. But he'd always known, with all of them, that his true self was a looming problem in the background. A beast to be locked away, and forgotten if possible.
Joy...
She didn't try to tame or cage his nature. She invited him.
The ache in his chest ran deeper than organs and bones. If he'd known how life could be, how he could feel, would he have lived the same way? Made the same choices?
No. I'd have spent every moment searching for her.
Perhaps it was for the better, then, that he hadn't known. But it still hurt.
~~~
When she arrived home, he took her bag from her and set it aside, pushing the door closed with one arm and wrapping the other around her waist, over the hem of her sweatshirt.
He pressed his mouth to hers, feeling her warmth and softness and the little smile on her lips.
"I love you."
He hadn't meant to say it. He hadn't even realised its truth until just now, but it explained everything.
