Together Apart: Change is Never Easy (20 page)

“I love you too, Zach.”
 

He sighed, his exhale a tickle on her face. “Maybe we could be friends. Can we just be friends?”
 

“I’d like that. I want that.” She reached out, brushing his hair back into place.

“Maybe we could live together, as friends.” The grin made a quarter-sized appearance. “Like roommates! People have roommates, right? I mean, really, what would change?”
 

Her smile was tender. She didn’t answer his artificial question.
 

A fresh tear brimmed in his eye. When it spilled, because Zach was laying on his side, it spilled across the bridge of his nose. The eye that would no longer be Sam’s to gaze into. The nose that would no longer brush hers when they kissed. They’d been together for over six years. They were kids when they’d met, and kids when they married. It had only been six years, but Sam’s entire adult life had been spent with Zach. The enormity of her coming change was almost impossible to comprehend. Everything would be different now; there wasn’t one corner of her life that Zach’s presence didn’t touch.
 

Staring into his pleading eyes, she found herself wondering if there
was
a way they could make it all work. Maybe they
could
be roommates. Zach was right: what, really,
would
need to change? She wanted to stay friends. He wanted to stay friends. In fact, she thought they probably
needed
to stay friends. The idea of cutting him away cold turkey made her stomach clench, made her want to stop breathing. Their marriage might need to end, but she couldn’t bear the thought of not having him at least present as a bridge to the other side. Practically, they would both likely fade from each other’s lives as years marched forward. But for now, she had to believe that they’d see one another regularly, having lunch and dinner, calling each other to laugh about something funny in order to make it funnier, or real. She wanted the lie, as absurd as it was. She was a girl dying of a gunshot wound to the head, and needed the comforting lie that said she would be fine.
 

She looked into his eyes, knowing that in time she’d forget their glint and the playful way they sparkled when Zach was inspired. But how long had it been since she’d seen that sparkle of inspiration? It had been a very long time.
 

That was why Sam had to let him go, and why he had to let her go, too. Together they were good. Fantastic. Amazing. But they were also a set of shackles. She couldn’t grow without burdening him. He couldn’t grow without burdening her. And a person
had
to grow. A person grew or died, and right now they couldn’t grow together. It was nobody’s fault. Yes, she loved him. Yes, he loved her. But they’d forged that love as two different people. If they’d met today, they would never have clicked. It was bad luck that they’d met when they had. Or maybe good. Sam wasn’t sure which.
 

“Zach,” she said, again touching his face, this time on his cheek, “do you believe it’s better to have loved and lost than to have never loved at all?”
 

He scrunched his face and fought a hiccup of breath. Sam wished she hadn’t asked. He blinked it back and said, “Are we lost?”
 

She pursed her lips. He knew.
 

Then, with some effort, Zach nodded against the soft sheet. “I suppose. But in a way, I wish we’d never met. Because leaving you … ” He couldn’t finish the thought.
 

Tears ran from Sam’s eyes. She felt them go, no effort to stop them.
 

“But no,” he said. “It’ll be tough. But I’m better for having … for having been with you.”
 

“It’s not over,” Sam said. “I mean, it’s over. But you’ll still have me. We can still talk. And I’ll still have you.” Her voice started to shatter. “Goddammit, Zach, I’d
better
still have you.” She bit her lip, feeling emotion build inside her like pressure against a faltering dam.
 

He took her hand, palm to palm. He touched her as if wanting to memorize her feel.
 

“All the things we had … ” he said. Even though he didn’t say it, she heard the codicil:
… gone.

Sam nodded, openly crying. She was better for having been with him, too. They’d been two sculptors made of clay, each shaping and forming the other. He was different today than he’d have been without her touch, she was different than she’d have been without his. But that clay had started to harden and they each discovered that at a certain point, you simply had to let the sculpture be what it needed to be.
 

“I wish you had been pregnant,” he said.
 

“No you don’t. Not now.”
 

“I do.” His voice became almost angry. “I was so happy. I thought that everything would work out. You were upbeat. I was inspired. I could’ve kept doing my job happily, if it had been for something.” He touched her hand again, softly. “I mean, for something more than us.”
 

“It wouldn’t have changed anything,” Sam said. “That’s the problem. You’re still you, and I’m still me. It would’ve only made things more complicated, still broken.”
 

“Maybe we wouldn’t have known,” he said.
 

“And carried on in blissful ignorance?”
 

Zach nodded, almost fiercely. Sam softened her gaze and cupped his cheek in her palm.
 

“Now, where is the man I fell in love with, who taught me to keep my eyes open, and never settle for anything less than stars?”

With her hand on his cheek, his composure broke.
 

“I can’t, Sam. It’s too hard.”
 

“I know.”
 

“I can’t be without you.”
 

“I can’t be without you either,” she said. “But anything else is impossible.
 

“I wish I hated you.”

Sam returned his gaze with her bittersweet smile. She almost wished the same. This wasn’t like something dying in trauma. It was like holding that beloved something close and ending its life to spare the pain.
 

She leaned in, their faces very close, and inhaled his scent, knowing how powerful smells were to memory, how much would be gone to her forever with the departure of his constant reminder. It was like losing a part of herself.
 

He kissed her, tentatively. Then their lips parted, and Zach pulled back, looking into her. She closed her eyes, moving forward, meeting his kiss like a memory. This was going away forever. She’d never have it again. She had to memorize it, to dive into him as if into a pool. She wanted to drown in him, sink to the bottom and wallow.
 

“I miss you, Zach.” Sam felt tears between them. Whether they were hers or his, she couldn’t say.
 

“I’m right here.”
 

“I miss you already.”
 

“I’ll always be here for you, Sam.
Always
.”
 

“Promise?” Her hands were in his hair, on his face, exploring him as if for the first time. She was dangling from a cliff, waiting for a rope.
 

“I promise.”
 

“I don’t know how I’ll get through the days.”
 

“Don’t think of those days. Think of now. Feel
now
.” His hand found her breast, rubbed it through the fabric. It was wrong. So wrong, to do this now. But under his touch, everything lit. Sam was past helpless.
 

His mouth left her lips, and the length of her neck. She tipped her head back, exhaling, eyes closed, weightless. There was no bed beneath her. Rolling ocean and nothing else. His lips were hunters, moving from the spot under her upturned chin to her collarbone. His hands moved slowly on her breast, nipples standing erect to his touch.
 

Their hands met. Clasped. He raised them to his lips and kissed hers. It should have seemed contrived. It did not. Sam felt her heart rise in her chest, ran her other hand around his waist, up and down. Their hands parted. Both hands began to explore. His moved down, under the hem of her red dress. Her inner thigh felt coal-hot under his palm. She pushed her hand under his shirt, exploring his chest. Then she moved it down, across the tight bulge in his slacks. His cock, already hard, rose to meet her. She rubbed its length, then reached down with both hands and began to fumble open his belt and pants as they kissed. Their mouths were desperate, as if hanging on.
 

Sam realized, quite suddenly, how wet she was and how much she needed Zach’s touch, needed him inside her. A palpable
need
. Sam had wanted him many times before, had been driven mad plenty. But the present sensation was fully unique. She needed his cock inside her like she needed air. Sam felt herself suffocating, longing for fulfillment more than satisfaction.
 

Zach pushed his pants off, then got between Sam’s legs and pushed her red dress up over her hips. She wore a matching set of red panties. Seeing them, Sam remembered buying to please him. Even in need, she wanted to weep. She would never be able to wear them again. Ever. She’d never be with another man again, either. It was all too precious. Too close to the bone. He was hers. She was his. Together forever, amen.
 

Sam’s panties came off. Her sadness evaporated as the room’s cool air whispered against her pussy’s wetness. His hand parted her lips, almost fascinated. He inverted his hand, fingers down, and ran them up her length. He came away with a palmful of juice, and wiped it on her thigh without comment. He bent to put his mouth on her, but she took him by the face to stop him.
 

He looked up. Her eyes begged into his. “I need you inside me.
Please
. Please make love to me. Now.”

His hand kept moving. “I want to taste you one last time.” He swallowed as he said “last time,” but his cock looked rock-hard and almost purple, keeping his focus where it needed to be. His glorious dick moved away, and Sam yearned, but his mouth was on her clit, harder than usual, and it ceased to matter. She closed her eyes, head tipping back. He never ate her like this. It was usually all tongue, delicate and respectful. This was aggressive. His pressure on her was hard. She felt her clit’s full length, stiff below the surface like an iceberg hiding.
 

Sam was so, so wet. She responded to his pressure. Felt the wave build fast as her hips lifted from the bed. Then she came,
hard
. As she came he slipped two fingers inside her. She tried to bear down, but direction surrendered to an endless cyclone of sensation. Sam felt her pussy coat his face from cheek to cheek, gushing and gushing as she fought for breath, feeling contractions continue to pulse. She was too sensitive. She flinched from his touch. It moved, but then his mouth was back and sucking her clit, fingers working inside her, juices like a faucet. She felt her breath hitch, mind seeming to leave her body. She came again, less than a minute later. Harder, more needful.
 

Zach kissed her pussy, lingering on her lips, running his affection to Sam’s inner thighs, then kissing her belly. She gasped, eyes closed, still in aftershocks. His hand was on her, gliding her down, but she kept twitching as his fingers rounded her edges, staying away from her clit until they plunged in again.

It wasn’t his fingers at all this time.
 

Sam felt Zach’s cock swell inside her, his wet mouth and their co-mingled juices on her lips. His entry had drawn another gasp from inside her. Her tunnel gripped and twitched onto him, somewhere between orgasm and readiness. He was all the way in, filling her, not thrusting.
 

She reached up, pulled off his tie and shirt. Then, opening her eyes, ran both hands up his chest, memorizing its look and feel. Sam would miss all of it, but couldn’t think about that now.
 

“Stay inside me forever, Zach,” she whispered, lips on his ear.
 

He started to move, slowly. He tumbled them over as one, so Sam was on top. She sat astride him as he pushed up her dress. She crossed her arms, grabbed its bottom, and pulled up to a strapless, sheer bra. Zach had his hands under it before she could get it off, then it was only them on the bed, both naked, his cock inside her. Sam sat tall, hands rolling over his chest. His were on her tits, and across her every inch. They moved down, rubbing the mound above her pussy, his head up on the bed so he could see.
 

“I can’t … ” he started, eyes taking on a desperate pleading. Sam stopped him with a finger across his lips, pressing gently.
 

“Don’t think about the future,” she said, moving against him.
 

She rode him upright, sliding up and down on his shaft. Then, when he seemed near to finish, she lowered her face to his, grinding against him, kissing his neck.
 

“Sam,” he said.
 

“What is it?”
 

“I don’t want it to end.” He sniffed. Sam saw tears in his eyes, saw how he was fighting to stay in control.

She kissed him. “Let go, baby. I want you to feel good. I want you to be satisfied.”
 

“I don’t want to feel good if that means it has to end.”

She kissed him again, more gently, still moving. She was getting close herself. Her body knew it was the last time and was hanging on as he was. But there was no answer to give, no answer for herself.
 

So she said what came to her: “I love you.”
 

“Then stay with me.” Softer: “I’m afraid.”
 

“I am, too.”
 

“I love you too, Sam.”
 

He didn’t close his eyes. She didn’t either, as sensations started to rise and overwhelm her. They met one another’s eyes, both of them moving, their rhythms falling perfectly into sync. He throbbed and pulsed up into her, she bore down on him, him giving and her receiving, him needing and her holding tight, his head rising into her bare chest and her arms wrapped around it, cradling him as they came together, savoring seconds as they leaked away anyway.