Forever After Page 5

  “No, really. It’s better this way.”

  After the bubbles had deflated like my maternal breasts had years prior and nothing but soapy swirls on the water remained, it was time to get out.

  “Wait here,” he said.

  He stood up and I watched as he rubbed a plush towel down his legs. I glanced at his erection, unable to help myself. When he slipped out of the bathroom, I took a quick pee, checked to make sure no toilet paper had stuck to my undercarriage, put on a dry tank, no bra, then checked myself out in the mirror with a few slimming sideway poses. All good, except I needed a boob job. Lift actually. The last sip of my wine was a large gulp that came with the perfect amount of courage. Grant walked in with both arms full of pillows and blankets.

  “In the bathroom?”

  “I thought it would be nice.” He shrugged then froze, sensing my disapproval. “I brought lots of blankets so it wouldn’t be hard on your back. If you’d rather—”

  “No, this is perfect. It’s hot.”

  As long as you don’t consider the germ factor.

  “Where do you want me?” I asked.

  He arranged a fort of bedroom pillows and comforters on the bathroom floor before guiding me onto the bedding in the most unusual of places.

  Grant reached for the condoms in the bathroom drawer and flashed me a smile. “I thought we better try to be responsible.” He made love to me with complete control. He could wait, hold back, let it go. He could do whatever he wanted when he wanted it. Ten minutes or fifty, he made sure I was exhausted and satisfied before he made me come again for good measure.

  …

  “Any requests?” Grant sat perched on the edge of his bed with one leg underneath and one on the floor, his lean bicep and shoulder draped over the top of his guitar.

  “Eighties.” I moved into my listening position under the sheets.

  He looked at the ceiling, humming a melody to himself, and gave it a few practice strums moving his fingers through the cords. The familiar sound, the lyrics, and acoustic ambiance filled his candlelit room. As he began to sing a song I knew, it brought me back more than a decade. A dull ache spread through my chest and seeped into my soul. Sad love songs were just that—sad. Every word seemed a reminder that as dreamy as this was, love never ends in anything but tragedy.

  ...

  Until it doesn’t . . . and a forever kind of love shows up.

  Chapter 11

  Forever After-C.J.

  I wish I could go back and tell my younger self that it wasn’t too good to be true. That what I thought was wrong. Love doesn’t have to be hard work. But at the time, I didn’t have the capacity to believe it.

  When I wrote AFFAIRYTALE most of it wasn’t painful to put on paper. Cringeworthy? Yes. But not painful. I had already worked through whatever I needed to in order to tell our story without bawling on every page.

  In preparing to put together Forever After, I re-read AFFAIRYTALE and it stung. In so many ways that I had never felt before. Yes, my atrocious behavior will always be regrettable and embarrassing. I would take it back if I could, but I can’t. I’ve made my peace with all the mean shit I’ve done and know in my heart it’s not nearly as long a list as the good I’ve put into the world.

  That said, what stung the most was being forced to look back at my former self who struggled so hard to get things right but still got them all wrong. Still, it was the best I could do at the time. I didn’t have the self-confidence I have today. The self-assuredness that makes it easy to live and be happy no matter if the world comes down on you or reports you as schizo.

  Equally as important, I’ve found my tribe. Some of whom I’ve grown in my belly from seedlings. This handful of kindred souls accept me as I accept them and will never abandon me as I will never abandon them. It’s an environment that has allowed me to heal, be less crazy and move me toward my full potential as I hopefully help them move toward theirs. We lift each other up, not cut each other down.

  To some degree I had this all along with my mom and dad, family, and Dylan. Even with Levi. But I never really felt it like I do today. Somehow feeling it, knowing it, and living it makes all the difference. Or maybe I’m different because I’m just older. Maybe it’s because without depression and chronic pain present in my every waking moment I’m finally able to thrive. Whereas before those two thugs just kept me down. I suppose it’s all that and more.

  I wish I could go back and tell my younger self she’s strong enough to deal with everything ahead. That there will be many, many times she will want to give up, get out and stay down. But there is a force more powerful in her than all of those challenges combined. An innate will to not only survive but thrive. That primal instinct will drive her forward no matter the obstacle. So, sit back darling, it will be a roller coaster of happiness and pain but there is no other way in life than to buckle up and go along for the ride. Make the best of it, chill out, have a glass of wine and relax. You have the strength to sort it all out in time.

  Chapter 12

  Forever After-Grant

  C.J.: You said 9:00 p.m. It’s 9:03. Where are you?!

  Grant waddles to the couch holding his stomach and falls down into the cushions. His favorite hairy girl sits by his side wanting to get pet.

  Grant: Can I just start by saying I did not need those three pieces of pizza.

  C.J.: Are you going to throw up in your mouth? It looks like it.

  He hiccups then looks at me confirming that indeed, if it hasn’t happened yet, it will soon. Kona sniffs the air around him. He’s speaking to her, not me.

  Grant: Good girl. We love you. Come here. Come snuggle with Daddy.

  C.J.: When did you first know you loved me?

  Grant: That’s tough. He stretches out on the couch, crosses his ankles and fluffs the pillows under his head. I would say . . . our time hanging out in the boat. I had the tendencies for feelings for you.

  C.J.: I just don’t understand why you didn’t tell me sooner. I mean really. He gives me a look. I know. I know . . . whatever. Go on.

  Grant: Was it full-fledged love right away? I don’t know. I think it’s something that grows, develops, matures. Don’t you think?

  C.J.: You mean do I believe in love at first sight?

  Grant: Yeah.

  C.J.: I don’t believe in love at first sight. But I do believe that when you know, you know. You know?

  Grant: Of course I know. I’ve already told you that.

  C.J.: Hold on, I don’t believe in love at first sight, however, [holding up a finger] I do believe that first impressions, initial instincts, that little someone inside that is telling you to pay attention to this person shouldn’t be ignored. Those first primal feelings are probably accurate in pointing you to the person you can, and will gradually fall in love with. Viola! I fan my hands as it to present him to the world. YOU!

  Grant: I agree. It’s kind of like asking when was the first human being? They didn’t just appear. It’s a progression, right? Small incremental accumulative affects over time. Evolution. It just evolved into love. I evolved into loving you.

  Gah . . . I love this man. I hold up my wine glass and toast him. He toasts to the empty air then holds his stomach again.

  C.J.: If we had a theme song or three what would it/they be?

  Grant: These change too. Certainly Could You be Loved, one of the greatest songs ever written, probably the best song ever written.

  C.J.: When I hear that song there is only one thing I can think of.

  We exchange a telepathic glance, we both know exactly to which night I’m referring. We’ve discussed it many times. We love that memory.

  Grant: It’s the song that never changes for me. I get the same reaction every time. I never get sick of that song. It never ever gets old.

  Bob Marley’s Greatest Hits is still playing on repeat in the boat, our pact to never play another CD in that boat ever again began in the summer of 2009 and is still going. We’ve also decided that if we eve
r get a new boat, the same CD must be promptly removed and inserted into new boat immediately upon its maiden voyage, then forever after.

  Grant: Right now our song would be If I Follow My Heart by Dennis Brown. What a great song.

  C.J.: I love that one too. I’m so glad you introduced it to me. Oh and Cabin by the Sea by the Dirty Heads. That’s my fav right now.

  Grant: If you’d have asked me when we were in wine country I’d have said another song, One Lickle Drop.

  C.J.: I know why you’d pick that song, ‘cause we played it over and over in the car. But that’s not really a relationship song. It’s a stoner song.

  I don’t even know who sings this song. It’s a reggae, pot smoker song and has nothing to do with love. Other than a love of pot, that is. And something about a chalice. I think this is where our proclivity to talk about pot comes from. Neither of us love it, we just love reggae.

  C.J.: If our love story were written, what would be the title?

  Grant: How about. Forbidden. Or um . . . Undaunted Desire.

  C.J.: What? No way. Those are terrible, unoriginal names. And undaunted desire reminds me of that YA movie we watched, something about dauntless. I can’t remember the title but it was good. There is only one name for our love story. Duh, AFFAIRYTALE.

  Grant: You already thought of that! I can’t use the same one.

  C.J.: Who said you couldn’t use the same one? There are no rules here.

  Grant: It’s implied.

  C.J.: How is it implied?

  Grant: It just is.

  He rolls his eyes at me in a way only teenage girls are supposed to.

  C.J.: What is the first memory that comes to your mind when you think of our life together before we were married?

  Grant: I would say . . . um . . .

  A ridiculous amount of time passes.

  C.J.: I said the first thing that comes to mind.

  Grant: Sneaking.

  C.J.: What about the sneaking? Throw a girl a bone here. Wait, don’t throw a girl a bone. Just answer the question.

  He looks at me seductively and I squint my eyes telling him to just answer the question and don’t even think about the bone.

  Grant: Our secret spot. And the dead body.

  C.J.: [laughing] Yes, the dead body.

  We refer to my lost purple tank as ‘the dead body’. I asked him one day, years after the night I lost it if he ever found it. He did. Aghast, I insisted on knowing where it was found and what happened to it.

  He said it was like finding a dead body under his bed. He didn’t know it was there, and was shocked when he saw it. He knew he had to dispose of it immediately. When the weekend at the lake was over, he drove back into town and buried it in a dumpster behind a movie store. I asked him if on the way home from the lake when he had the dead body with him if he stuck his face in it and sniffed it.

  Of course he did.

  C.J.: Should we go lie in bed and have a glass of wine there?

  Grant: Sure.

  It’s late, nearing bedtime and lying in our big bed in the candlelight with a deep red swirling night cap talking about all the times before and the ones to come fills me up. It’s a small sliver of time, but nights like this are a vital part of what makes us so intrinsically connected. We talk, we enjoy each other. We don’t stay up late too often, but when we do, hours pass like minutes and it’s two o’clock in the morning before we remember we both work tomorrow. We wouldn’t have it any other way. Sometimes we just catch the fever to reminisce. This is one of those times.

  Grant: Didn’t you ever wonder why, when I took you for rides on my jet ski, I kept us on the other side of the lake away from everyone? I used to fantasize about stopping the jet ski behind those tall grasses where no one could see. I imagined turning around and kissing you.

  C.J.: Someday, if you ever decide to read AFFAIRYTALE in full, you’d know that I so badly wanted the exact same thing. You know, I used to sort of be offended that you didn’t read it in full. But I get it now. I don’t want you to read it. I want you to keep your own memories and not have them muddied up with mine.

  He smiles at me and takes a sip of his wine. He’s sitting up, propped up against the wall behind our bed with no shirt on. I can’t help but look at him in a lustful way.

  Grant: Do you remember that night we sat on the railroad ties behind my cabin?

  C.J.: Of course I do. I loved that night. We learned so much about each other. But do you also remember that was the night when you told me you thought you knew who ‘the one’ was?

  Grant: Oh God. I can’t believe I said that. I feel like such a jerk. I was so stupid. I just said that ‘cause you were married. I guess now that I think back I did a lot of things that were hurtful to you. I’m sorry.

  C.J.: You’re not a jerk and don’t say you’re sorry. We’re here now. But you know I absolutely died inside when you told me about her? He buries his face fully into his pillow and lets out a few emotion-filled groans that get exponentially louder and more painful as I talk. After that I swore you off. I was never going to allow myself to talk to you like that again? He comes out of his pillow, his face is red, his hair is a mess.

  Grant: I feel so bad about it all now. I remember when you were trying to move away. I couldn’t believe it when your brother told me. I just kept thinking that I couldn’t imagine being here without you. I was devastated. Secretly, I hoped you wouldn’t get a job anywhere. But I knew you were employable and motivated.

  C.J.: That was such a difficult time for me. I had given up on you and I wasn’t going to let my heart keep wandering in your direction. I knew the only way I could forget about you and maybe salvage my marriage was to never see or talk to you again. That was my plan. I actually went to the ends of the earth to try and get out of there and away from you. I thought it was the only way.

  His twisted expression lets me know how painful it is to hear me say those things. I’m in pain telling him these things. But we keep talking. Somehow, there is always something new to say and we become more in love after our conversations are over.

  Grant: Dylan was devastated at the thought of you leaving. He talked to me about it several times. He couldn’t believe it. I had to hide how I felt from him too.

  C.J.: It was like everything in the universe was trying to keep me here. Nothing fit quite right. I remember giving up my search and just resigning myself to trying to never see or talk to you again.

  Grant: Remember that night you walked into The Dot when I was on stage?

  I know the night to which he is referring.

  C.J.: The night we met back at Dylan’s in his garage.

  Grant: Yes. There were several of those but that one night we—he searches for the words on the ceiling—hung out on the couch.

  C.J.: Of course I remember. I was devastated that night too. I swore off you again.

  I put a hand over my face and shake my head at all the times I tried to stay away from him and how none of it was in the cards for me. Thank God.

  Grant: You were?

  C.J.: Well how did you feel?

  Grant: Well, it was hard for me too. Really hard. I had a lot to lose. You had more—but still. You were married. I didn’t want to wreck a marriage, but we just kept having those moments. I couldn’t shrug them off because I knew it was something. I really knew it was something after that night we kissed.

  C.J.: The maybe-we-should-kiss night?

  Grant: Yes that night. I’ll never forget that night. I drive by where we were parked from time to time and I think about that night. One time I even pulled over on the curb where we were and parked my car. I sat there and reminisced about our night together and how great it was. That night changed everything.

  Grant has a deeply romantic side. Items like wine corks, memories and traditions like the ones we’re sharing, he guards very closely. He is incredibly sentimental and not often—but often enough—he shows me the true depth at which he truly loves me. More than our daily “I love you.�
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  C.J.: I’ve done the same thing. I haven’t pulled over but I’ve driven by there. I also know our memories are different and that you might not feel this way but that night was incredibly painful for me. I’d decided that whatever happened, it was going to either happen or end. I was done. For real that time and I believe I would have done it. I said that before, but something was different on that night. I was not going to keep living like that. Knowing how much I cared for you. It was either going to happen or it was over.

  He looks surprised. I’m surprised that he looks surprised.

  Grant: Wow. I didn’t know I was that close to the end. I had no idea you were that close to being done with me.

  C.J.: You didn’t?

  Grant: [shaking his head] If I’d have known you were that close to seriously never talking to me again I would have done something sooner.

  C.J.: I don’t think you would have. You had many chances. We had years and years of friendship and moments.

  Grant: If I’d have known it was that close to the end for you, I would have done something. Yes I would have.

  C.J.: I don’t know if I believe you. And why wasn’t it the end for you. How long would you have waited? Until you found someone else?

  Grant: Honey, come on. There is no one else. Can you imagine all the hundreds of people we’ve come into contact with over our lifetime and not one person evokes the feelings we feel about each other. I couldn’t stop thinking about you, for years. I just had a feeling when it was right, it would finally happen. I had no idea I’d pushed it that far. I was just waiting for you.

  My heart begins to hurt, that dull ache that spreads through my chest when I am transported back in time and connect with those same emotions I felt on those dark days.

  C.J.: I had no idea you felt that way. I wished I would have known.

  He sets his wine glass down on the table beside the bed then wraps me in his arms. It brings me to tears.

  Grant: Sometimes I think about what my life would be like without you. I can’t even imagine, I don’t want to. He strokes my hair and holds me tight. My tears keep coming as he’s talking. You can’t imagine how much I love you, how perfect you are for me, how I felt waiting for you all those years.