Sarah and I agree to meet for lunch near her work.
In the meantime, I read the message over and over.
This is not working, is it? We need to talk.
I take it in in small bites. Each morsel means something. And each one sticks in my throat.
This… This what?
Does she mean our separation, maybe our arrangement with Chloe, it could be how the finances have been structured? Each possibility is worse than the next. We have fought bitterly to reach an agreement we both hate, but that we can both live with.
This is not working.
The assumption is that she knows better. That there's a right and a wrong way.
Is it?
This part is her little stab, her prod, her nudge. She wants me to admit that I know. She wants me to know that she's been watching, knowing better, and has said nothing until now, leaving me the opportunity to figure it out for myself. But now it's so obvious, isn't it? Why can't I admit it? Why am I being so stubborn? This is what she's saying: that I must know that something is wrong and, none the less, I'm persevering. What is wrong with me?
We need to talk.
There is no talk with Sarah. She normally tells me. She tells me that something is not to her standard, and then it's up to me to say: 'You're right.'
I go back to what drove us apart. The fights, the disagreements… I think it was the fact that she never accepted I had a different opinion that was worth listening to or considering.
I think it's the fact that I always let her be right. I never said: 'No, Sarah. Not this time.'
But that's not it. It's not all, at least. I think it's the fact I never truly loved her, and she never made an effort to make me fall in love with her. Somehow, she twisted my arm to remain and comply. Or maybe I twisted my own arm, telling my self that love was coming. I let her win every battle because I secretly owed this, since I couldn't love her. She told me that the honourable thing to do was getting married, buying a house, having a child. And I did it all. The honourable thing was not talking back, not voicing my opinions, not saying I didn't want to do something. But I never complained.
And I was not the one who broke it off.
And yet, she still made me feel all the guilt of the situation. And I took that weight on my shoulders too. I've carried it this far.
But I accept there must be blame on both sides. The mediator, never one to take sides, said so. And I take that too.
I did it because I never loved her, which, I know, is unforgivable. I know it's much worse than anything she has put me through.
But now, I'm done carrying that wait. Now, Sarah broke it off, so I don't owe this love I cannot find for her anymore. Now, I just believe I am done looking for blame, whether it's within her or within me. I want to move on. Not with a rough exchange between near strangers (I've tried that, and it hasn't worked), but with a partner who will help me carry the weight that life imposes on us. I want someone to disagree with and someone who will want to find a solution together, rather than to impose her will on me. Because I love her.
And I believe I have found her now.
I stare at the message. Annoyed. Worried.
My wounds hurt too. I am a human scab, bruised all over, crusty, but trying to repair myself. Every movement tears the fibrous tissue that has begun to form on my skin. Washing myself, getting dressed, walking, even breathing… Any aspect of living is now painful.
I drag myself to the building where Sarah works. It's an anonymous high-rise at the periphery of the city.
I text her:
I'm downstairs.
I see she's typing, but no answer comes.
Finally, she appears. She walks through the foyer and through the revolving glass door. She sees my puffy face and smirks but says nothing: this is not working, is it?
We sit at a café, and we order something to drink.
'Nice job,' she says looking at my face.
I raise a hand to feel my cheek.
'Yes,' I say without wanting to expand on the conversation. 'You wanted to talk…'
Sarah purses her lips:
'Are you in a rush?'
'I thought you might be,' I say, already feeling the need to defend myself.
She sighs:
'Let's get to it, then. You may have not noticed,' she says, 'but Chloe is very unhappy.'
'Is she?'
She smirks again to this. The accusation is clear: I haven't been paying attention to the wellbeing of my own child.
Sarah: 1 – Me: 0.
'She seems fine. When she's with me…' I add, regretting saying so.
'What's that supposed to mean?' Sarah barks.
'Simply that I don't know what she's like when I'm not there to check. It's pretty obvious.'
The bickering of divorced people… It will never take you anywhere but to the place you began the fighting at.
'What did you want to discuss?' I ask, trying to move the conversation back towards more neutral territory.
'Well, I want what's best for my child…'
'So do I,' I add.
'… And I know she's been suffering. This separation…'
'Divorce,' I correct.
'Fuck you!' she hisses. 'I'm trying to do the right thing.'
I say nothing.
'We can't take our anger out on Chloe,' she says with finality.
My scabs throb and itch. I just want to be done with this conversation. What is it? More money? More days with mum?
'What do you want, Sarah?' I ask.
'Look at you,' she says with a softer tone. 'I can see you're not doing so well yourself.'
As a matter of fact, I think, I'm doing better than ever. These are just the signs of an education. But I'm on the other side.
'I'm alright. It's nothing to worry about, and certainly nothing that impacts on Chloe,' I say.
Sarah laughs to herself.
'Is that so? I have heard about your escapades. It's all over the school.'
I freeze. I sense she's coming at me from every angle: Chloe's happiness, my relationships with other women. What is it, Sarah? What do you want?
'Do you think she will be invited to friends' houses, now that her divorced father will try to fuck their mothers and break up their family too? And what if people will start to say stuff about Chloe? Have you thought about that?'
My voice chokes as I speak:
'What do you want, Sarah?'
'Things have to change.' She pauses, waits. I say nothing. 'To begin this, this ping pong, this moving her from house to house, as if she was a parcel, is disrupting her life. It has to stop.'
'I suppose you want her to live with you, and I visit one weekend?' I say.
'Wouldn't it be better? For Chloe… At least, we can all keep our heads high and say that she doesn't see her whoring father much and has a good role model.'
I scoff and shake my head.
'Out of the question. I'm not giving her up.'
'Then… For the good of everybody… You stop doing what you're doing, and you have to come home.'
'No,' I say.
She smiles.
'You only think about yourself, don't you?'
'What about you? Do you want this?'
She looks at me and says the most obvious thing:
'I care about Chloe. Do you?'
I stand up. I can't! I feel the trap… I feel I have no other way to run but towards Sarah, and I need to go the other way.
'Don't make me,' I say.
'I'm not making you do anything,' Sarah says standing up. 'Now, I need to go back to work. I've said my piece, and I've done my duty. Now it's up to you to decide. It's a democracy.'
*
She has left it up to me. But it's not, is it?
If there's something I have never changed my mind on, that I always believed in, and that I always thought I got right from the start, is that Chloe is the priority.
Once you have children, happiness is not your right anymore. It's incidental at best.
Sarah knows what I believe. Sarah says I'm free to choose, knowing full well what my nature will make me do. She understands the physics that governs my atoms.
What freedom can this be?
I stare at my phone all afternoon. I know what message I'm about to send, but I cannot bring myself to type it.
Fuck you, Sarah!
Eventually, I punch it in.
Hi Alice…
I delete the message. I cannot. What about my happiness? Did I do all this searching and this suffering for nothing? I breathe in and put the finger on the screen.
Hi Alice, I need to talk to you.
Should I warn her? Should I say it's bad news?
Hi Alice, I need to talk to you. How's pizza tonight?
I stare at the message. I wonder if I should make a joke about carb overload or gluten or Italians. I don't know.
Eventually, I hit send.
The reply comes quickly:
You like your pizza... Sure thing. See you at school.
I stare at the message. Easily digestible. Without any hidden message or stabbing or prodding.
We pick up the kids. We have pizza. We watch them play until they sleep. It's feels so normal.
'Alice, please sit down. I need to talk to you.'
She gives me a look.
'I – I haven't done anything this time. But…' I begin.
'How bad is it?' she asks me.
I sigh:
'Sarah wants to go back together.'
Alice's eyes are fixed on me. The house is suddenly quiet, as if no living being occupy it.
'Sarah wants to go back together. I don't know why. She surely doesn't love me. But she threatens to use Chloe in our war between us if I don't comply.'
Alice shakes her head.
I explain what has happened. She doesn't say anything, but I know what she wants to know:
'I don't love her. I don't believe I ever have. But I'm a father, and I – Alice, I haven't known you long, but you have made me feel things I've never felt. You made me believe I could be a better person – I have to put Chloe first.'
Alice is quiet for a moment. She shakes her head again.
'You haven't done anything wrong. You're right. But you broke my heart. And I know you didn't mean to.'
She's holding back tears.
'You understand I don't want to do it,' I say.
She nods.
'Yes, you haven't done anything wrong this time. Actually,' she adds, 'you are doing the right thing. I would do the same thing, you know? Hadn't my husband been killed, we would still be together. No matter what. Because – you're right – I'm a mother, and you can't do anything else.'
I took her hand in mine.
She lets me.
Alice thinks a little then says:
'Why does she want you back if she doesn't…?'
'Love me?'
She nods.
I shrug my shoulders.
'If I were to guess… She probably hated the fact that I was sleeping around, that women desired me. Maybe, though, she's being honest, and she worries that I will be a bad influence on Chloe.'
'But you're not… You have me…'
'If I were to guess, she would hate you even more.'
She laughs:
'What a woman…'
I laugh too:
'You tell me?'
She squeezes my hand. She's serious now.
'You haven't done anything wrong. I just regret being a casualty of your war with your wife.'
'I don't want to lose you.'
Alice then tells me what I knew all along she was going to say:
'I'm not going to be your lover. Tomorrow, you go back to your wife, and you live your life while I live mine.'
'I'll pick up Chloe and I'm off then.'
She shakes her head and smiles mischievously.
'Tomorrow, you go back to your wife. Tonight, you sleep here. With me.'
She holds my hand, and I follow her into her bedroom.
I kiss her.
'I need to you show you something,' she says.
Alice searches with a hand under her bed. Then, she shows me a little bottle of lube.
'What are you doing with that?' I ask, smiling.
I'm actively pushing out of this room any memory of Sarah's, any worry for tomorrow, any resentment, any feeling towards her. I want to focus on Alice and how happy and sad being with her tonight makes me feel.
Then, Alice says:
'I was hoping to take things slow, to get to know each other, but… we have a few hours to cram a life.'
I'm not sure I understand.
'You're going to do to me everything you've done with those women. I want to know that side of you. I will not judge.'
'Alice…'
'I will not judge,' she says firmly, 'but you're not going to hold back. Can you do this for me?'
The request puzzles me, but I think I understand, and I know I'm with the only person on Earth who wants me as I am without turning me into something I don't want to be. I can truly be myself.
'Undress,' I say.
She smiles.
I watch her minute body for a moment, the small breasts, the tuft of hair, the small feet.
'Bend over,' I say.
She doesn't say anything. She turns towards the bed and rests her torso on me.
I look at her pussy, nestled between her thighs, her small asshole peeking through between the butt cheeks.
Whack!
'Mmh!' Alice moans, as I slap one cheek with my open palm. 'Again.'
Whack!
'Ow!'
The other cheek.
Whack! Whack!
Both cheeks are glowing red.
I kneel behind Alice and blow cool air on her skin.
'Better?'
'Yes,' she whispers.
'Shall I go on?'
'Mh, mh,' she says.
I part her butt and the two halves of her vulva. I begin to lick her, slowly and thoroughly.
Whack!
'Ow!' she cries out again.
I lick her.
Whack!
'Oh, shit!' she whines.
I begin to suck her clit. With my thumb, I uncap the lube and squirt some on her the ridge between her ass cheeks.
I watch the shiny goo, glinting in the dim light of the room. I run the fleshy part of my thumb on the rim of her asshole, feeling the muscular ring, the softer darker periphery. I probe in. The first phalanx slides in, tightly wrapped, almost sucked in by the sphincter.
'Try to relax. I need to lube you,' I say.
I see the top of her fingers appear between her thighs.
'Good.'
She massages herself.
I part her cheeks until her ass stretches open. It's a small opening. I let some lube drop in; then, I put two fingers inside it.
'Mmh!' she moans.
I see her hands moving faster to temperate the scolding of her skin and the unfamiliar feeling of my fingers inside her ass.
'That's a good girl,' I say.
She breathes deeply.
'How does it feel?' I ask.
'It's… different…'
'Yes, it is.'
I stand up and squirt more lube on my dick. Then, I direct its head towards the opening of her ass.
'Are you ready?' I ask.
She's masturbating frantically.
'Go slow,' she says.
I push the glans in and wait. I push in further.
'Slow, please!'
Alice rocks back and forth. She almost facilitates my entry. With every movement, I go in a little more, and I can feel her relaxing, allowing my presence inside her flesh.
'Go deeper,' she asks, panting.
I push in a bit more, slowly.
'I'm about to come,' she whines. 'Fuck. I want it all inside!'
I slide it all inside, all the way to the base.
'Oh, Christ! It's so good… I didn't know… Ohhh!' she cries out.
I wait a moment, but I can tell she's not offering much resistance. I begin to swing back and forth. I hold her ass and bring it towards me, then let it go, then bring it back again.
She howls quietly at each push:
'Ow! Yes… Ow! More…'
Then, I feel her tighten around my dick. She's moving faster back and forth.
'I'm coming… I'm coming! Oh… fuuuuuck!' She's whimpering. 'You made me come so hard! Oh fuck!'
Seeing her lithe body shake with her orgasm, watching her tiny ass stretching with each charge, listening to her quiet moaning makes me very excited.
I pause.
Alice touches me with her hand and says:
'Keep going. I want you to come inside me.'
I fuck her. I go harder.
Alice holds onto the bedsheets with both hands.
'That's it,' she says. 'Keep going. Mmmh! You're so big inside me. I feel you everywhere…'
I move back and forth. The feeling of being inside her is amazing: sweet, small, hungry, tight…
'I want to hear you say it,' she orders me.
'I'm coming in your ass!' I say.
She squeezes my dick with her ass.
Then I feel the familiar warmth rush to my groin, collect and rush through. Then I come inside Alice.
I slide out.
'Don't move,' I say.
I sit behind her for a moment. I massage her ass, and I watch her asshole contract, trying to be rid of my load.
Alice lets out two small farts, and some semen drips out.
'That was amazing,' Alice says. 'It's weird: I don't think I understand it, but it was amazing.' She stands up. 'Now, I need the toilet and a shower.'
I know that the realisation that we're not going to be together after tonight is hitting her and can't be kept at bay any longer.
We hug all night. We don't sleep, and we don't talk. We just listen to each other breathing in the dark. We simply exist in close proximity, and this is the best life has been able to grant us.
*
I am fucking Sarah. The same moves, the same feelings.
Sarah is staring at the ceiling. She doesn't say a word.
Today, Chloe came home with the news that Miss Pulver and Miss Clancy, a couple whose existence I had ignore until recently, are now expecting thanks to an anonymous donor. Miss Pulver will go on maternity leave at the end of the year. I turn the notion in my head for a moment, then it's gone.
I am moving faster, not because I'm getting closer, but because I want to get closer. I want to finish. This is humiliating.
I know she doesn't like it, and I surely don't enjoy it. And yet we do it. I normally initiate it. Probably because I know she wants me to. She expects it as a duty, as a sign that everything is normal. So, here it is. I dish it out. It normally happens on a weekly basis: I can't get away with less. It would give her a reason to throw it in my face: See? You can't even give me that…
So, I push. I go back and forth.
I reach behind her with a finger, looking for her ass.
'What the fuck are you doing?' she barks, and I retreat.
I do what I'm supposed to do. A bunch of atoms. My will is secondary.
But I'm not sad, and I'm not defeated. Not anymore.
I have chosen to do the right thing, no matter how painful it might be.
Every day, Chloe shows me love, infinite, unbounded, unselfish.
Alice has shown me, even if so briefly, that I can be accepted.
The knowledge that love and acceptance are possible will sustain me. For the first time in my life, I am not sad because external events have ceased to exist. My atoms don't exist anymore for me. Cynthia thought she could control them; Sarah thinks she has them in her hand, but, whatever they got is not me. Not anymore.
I am within the love for my daughter and within the knowledge that, for a brief moment, Alice and I had found each other. We both glimpsed happiness, and that has left a trace Sarah cannot efface.
Because I'm not atoms anymore.