The Last Exhale (34 page)

I repeat his words back to him. “Love doesn't demand its own way.” I don't know what that means in this moment, but it makes me feel better about any decisions I have to make in the future.

He moves his lips to speak. “We can't go back from here, you know that, right?”

He's right, we can't go back from here. I had an abortion because I didn't want to be with him for the long haul. He knew about it and didn't say anything for the same reason. If I
could
go back, I would put the egg he fertilized back in my womb and let it have a life of its own. Instead, I took matters into my own hands and made life worse for all involved. Maybe Eric and I didn't talk about it, but all these years, it was talked about in our silence. I killed for him and he let me do it. I let me do it. Ultimately, the decision was all mine. A piece of me I'll never be able to get back. Peace, I'll never be able to get back. That's something I'll never be able to move from as long as I'm in this marriage.

I get up from the bed and stand in front of my husband. I look him in the eyes. Again, I see the truth he refuses to speak. I will no longer play this game with him. Just like the last exhale—when the lungs release all of the air in its capacity—this marriage has released all of the lies it's used to keep it alive. I twist the engagement ring and wedding band off my finger. Release the weight. Grab his hand, open his palm. Place the rings inside. “Yes, Eric. This
is
it for us.”

I
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Heated Waters

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The pool mirrors the moon in its stillness.

I dip the tip of my foot in and watch the moon's reflection break into tiny pieces just as my life has shattered within the last twenty-four hours.

“I'm filing for divorce.”

My eyes sting as a fresh batch of tears form. I do everything I can to prevent them from falling. Clear my throat, swallow, cough. Nothing helps.

His familiar scent of Sicilian citron, apple, and cedarwood tickles my nose and betrays my emotions.

“How did we get here?” I ask as I feel him standing behind me.

He doesn't answer right away. Instead he sits down next to me, rolls up the legs of his pants, and sticks his feet in the water right along with mine.

I look over at him; beg for answers with my liquid emotions.

He wipes away a tear just before it falls from my chin. “I think this is something we've both been wanting for a while. Why prolong the inevitable?”

I sigh. “It doesn't have to be this way. I…I don't want you to leave.”

Trevor looks up at the sky, says, “Full moon. Emotions always get the best of folks on nights like this.”

I lean my head against my husband's shoulder. The shoulder that has carried the weight of my infidelity for the last two years. His love for me kept him around all this time despite my indiscretion. It wasn't intentional, wasn't planned. It was a moment of weakness. I was lonely. Married and lonely. Two words that should never be used in the same sentence. His job kept him away more than a husband should be away from his wife. Seemed like the more I spoke up about it, the more business trips he would make. One trip lasted a week longer than planned. When he came back, I had already broken my vows.

“It wasn't the way you think.”

His shoulder tenses under my head when I refer to that night. He tenses and shuts down every time I try to talk about it. “It doesn't matter anymore.”

“Are we really over?” I want to know, though I already know his answer. I just need to hear him say it again to make it official.

“The papers are on the dining room table. Movers will be here in the morning.”

My eyes begin to burn again.

Trevor leans his head down and places his lips against my forehead. “You'll be okay. We both will.”

Maybe a full moon does get the best of people because as hurt as I am, another feeling between my thighs won't let me break down
the way my heart wants me to. Been fighting my hormones since he walked out smelling all good.

I lift my head; turn it in the direction of the lips that were just on my skin. I close my eyes and kiss my soon-to-be ex-husband.

“Let's not—”

“Shhhhh,” I say as I try to gain some control over what happens in my life.

For a second, neither of us moves or says anything. Contemplation is in the air. Him debating if he should oblige my offer.

Me wondering if I should take it off the table.

He wins.

He removes his legs from the pool and walks back in the house.

I cover my face with my hands and tremble as the floodgates of my heart break open.

Footsteps entering the shallow end of the pool silence my sobs. I open my eyes to see Trevor walking toward me. He stops right in front of me, looks me in the eyes as if to ask if I'm sure I want to go there. With my irises, I tell him yes.

He moves in between my parted legs, reaches his hands behind me, and scoots me to the edge of the pool. Scoots my heat closer to his face. Long, slender fingers creep underneath my skirt and trace the edges of my thighs and the curve of my hips until they reach the top of my panties. I raise my torso up slightly for smooth removal. My panties are tossed to the side just like this marriage after eight years, but I refuse to think about that right now.

His eyes are intense as his face nears my warmth. He licks his lips, kisses each thigh softly. Again he grabs my rear and pulls me closer than close. His tongue navigates its way around familiar territory.

My head leans back, glazed-over eyes staring up at the moon as
his tongue swims to depths only his tongue can go. My inner walls tighten around his thick tongue, trying to pull him in deeper, causing me to close my eyes and bite down on my lip at the same time. A moan trembles from my lips. He's always been a gifted eater. I run my fingers through his locs, pull him closer than close.

His moans make my love below vibrate, tickle my pearl in the worst way.

I feel his eyes on me.

I put my eyes on him.

We stare.

He wants me to know this last time is personal.

I want him to know this last time is personal for me, too.

He flips me over on my stomach, throws my legs across his shoulders. Devours me from the back. His lips against mine, tongue flicking in between my folds. Smacking noises loud enough to wake up the whole neighborhood. His tongue moves in and out of me as I ride his face like Secretariat going for the Triple Crown.

My trembling makes me lose my balance. He helps me turn back around and yanks my shirt above my head. Tosses it and my bra over where he tossed my panties a while ago. He doesn't take my skirt off for whatever reason, and refrains from removing any of his clothes.

He submerges under the water, swims to the stairs on the shallow end of the pool. Sits and waits for me, pants pulled down to his ankles. I know what that means.

I go under the water and come back up with my face right in his lap. His firmness stands at attention waiting for me to salute. I lick its girth; let my tongue linger in the juices on the tip for a second before I let half of him disappear in my mouth. I know how he likes it; not too much at first. I flick my tongue up and
down his shaft; take his cleanly shaven sperm holders into my mouth, let my moans vibrate against him like his did me moments ago. This time I take him all the way in my mouth, feel him slip down my throat.

He massages his fingertips against my scalp as I massage his manhood with my mouth. He thrusts deeper down my throat and then nudges my head away. The hunger in his eyes is now a look of revenge. He grabs me away from the stairs and pulls me to the wall of the pool, turns my back to him. He prefers it that way. Hasn't been able to face me as he enters me since my moment of weakness.

His hardness enters my soft spot without hesitancy.

I scream in torture and in pleasure.

“Is this how he did it to you?”

Trevor's question catches me off-guard. I don't know what to say.

My silence takes him to another level as he grabs my breasts with both hands and fills my insides in a way he never has before. Pumping in and out like a drill trying to reach the bottom of the earth. If I said it didn't feel good I'd be lying.

I toot my butt out to push him outside me. I want to stare at his wrath face-to-face.

He understands.

I reach in the water and escort him back into my fiery dungeon. I shiver as he enters me again.

They say to never look an animal in the eye because they will be able to see your fear. At this moment I wish I had listened. Fear is in my eyes. Looking in Trevor's, I can see my fear of being alone. And if I can see it in his eyes, I know he can see it, too.

Alone.

The reason we are here.

I rock my hips hard; try to ride him back into this marriage.

He makes short, hard thrusts, tries to get my mind off the matters of this marriage.

We're going at it like animals. Bucking like kangaroos and howling like wolves. Going at it so hard I feel my flesh scraping against the edge of the pool. Trevor sees my pain. Without removing himself from me, he moves us back over to the stairs. He's on top of me, growing inside me, the tip of his penis trying to knock my cervix out the ballpark. I bite down on his neck until I taste blood. That excites him all the more. He puts both of my nipples in his mouth, sucks hard like he's trying to suck a thick milkshake through a too-small straw. It hurts and feels good at the same time. My fingernails claw at his back, his drill digging deeper into my earth. He's trying his damndest to leave a lasting impression in my womb.

My legs shake. Not from ecstasy. I'm in pain.

Trevor's too far gone to even realize this is no longer pleasure for me.

This is too much. This is vengeance. Not the way I want to remember my final hours with my husband.

Again, emotions get the best of me, and I lose it. I cry like I did when I confessed my adultery and saw how thin the line was between love and hate.

He wipes away my tears, wraps his arms around me. I realize it was no longer pleasurable for him either. Again he pulls me closer than close. My inner walls throb against his manhood as my outer walls crumble against his chest.

“Are you sure we can't work this out?” I hear myself plead.

He looks at me, kisses me with the love he's always had for me, the love he had before everything changed.

My answer is in his kiss. Nothing else is to be said.

I loosen my legs from around his waist. Feel life escaping from me as he withdraws from between my legs for the last time.

•  •  •

Going in the house is the last thing I want to do. I want to stay in the pool until the water doubles over with my tears and drowns me in my apology. Doing so would be insane. It's my fault that life has come to this point. Nobody made me do what I did. Can't blame Trevor. Can't blame circumstance. It was my actions.

I let my body drift to the bottom of the pool, but my damn skirt acts like a life preserver, refusing to let me sink.

What the hell? This is futile. I walk the floor of the pool toward the steps. With each step, the weight of my emotions decreases as less water engulfs me. My nipples harden as the air lays kisses on my wet skin. I take off my skirt and wrench the water from it, grab the rest of my clothes from the ground, and enter the house of loneliness.

“I thought you were going to stay out there forever.”

I use my clothes to cover my exposed flesh. “Trevor? I thought you left.”

“I did. Came back.”

“Oh” is all I'm able to say.

Neither of us look at each other, both of us probably feeling a mixture of shame and remorse from where we let our emotions take us a couple of hours ago.

“Come here,” he instructs with an outstretched hand.

Still holding on to my clothes, trying to cover as much of my private parts as possible, I take his hand and move to where he is.

He grabs an orange envelope from the dining room table and
walks us over to the fireplace. He removes papers from the envelope, takes our ending in his hands, rips it to pieces. Tosses it on top of wood. Clicks the remote to the gas a few times until the hum of gas kicks in and fire slowly begins to burn what would have been our demise.

Our hands tighten around each other's as we watch those divorce papers turn to ashes.

Trevor turns to me, says, “This is our beginning.” He clicks the remote again to shut the gas off.

Though the light from the fire diminishes, the light in my eyes glows.

Hand in hand we walk upstairs. When he opens our bedroom door, several candles are lit. Sheets are pulled back on the bed with rose petals sprinkled over it.

“Remember our honeymoon?”

I feel my cheeks spread from ear to ear. “I do.”

On my pillow, petals form a heart and a letter with my name on it is in the middle of it.

“Read it,” Trevor says. “When you're done, join me in the bathroom.”

We decided not to write our own vows when we married. But my husband surprised me on our wedding night by putting his written vows on my pillow for my eyes only. I thought it was the sweetest thing ever. I went to a printer and had them overlay the vows over one of our wedding pictures. It's been on my nightstand ever since.

I unfold the paper to see a resignation letter to his job.