Oh my God.
He… he asked me.
He really asked me to—
You’ll just let him down.
But he asked me to come up to his place. That means… exactly what I think it means. We’re both adults, after all. We’re both familiar with what comes next. We both… want this.
No, you don’t. This is WAY too fast for you, isn’t it?
It’s a little fast, yeah. But—
You just got done telling yourself how you wanted to slow things down, and now you’re gonna have SEX with the guy? You’re a walking contradiction, ain’t ya?
I am not, I know what I’m doing.
I glance back up at Sammy. His eyes are wide and his posture rigid. “Uhh! I-I didn’t mean it like th-that! If you’re—ya know, I mean—if that’s—“
I squeeze his hand, bringing his stuttered backpedaling to a swift halt. “I’d like that.”
His mouth hangs open in shock. “O-okay. I’m… just a couple blocks away.” He spins on his heel and begins marching toward our destination like a drill sergeant just gave him a direct order. His nervousness is actually pretty cute.
Slut.
I shake my head, feeling my feathers bristle in my hand. I don’t know when the tip of my tail climbed into my grasp, but every time I try to will it away it just shudders in defiance and stays where it is.
It’s telling you this is a mistake.
Shut up.
Sammy nervously glances over his shoulder at me a few times, perhaps worried that I’ll suddenly have a change of heart, but I follow along down the darkened sidewalks. Truthfully, my own mind is swimming with emotions. I was so close to saying something to him back underneath the marquee, after he gave me this beautiful necklace and shared a passionate kiss with me. I felt safer in his arms than I have in months, maybe years. I felt for him… I feel for him something I haven’t experienced in longer than I can remember.
You don’t love him.
I… might. I wanted to say it. I wanted to whisper it to him and continue exploring him. I think—
You don’t love him. You don’t deserve him. You’re worthless.
Shut up. I’m not going through this tonight. Not when he’s so close to me. Not when I want to be with him.
You’ll only disappoint him. He’ll want nothing to do with you.
Please, shut up. I don’t want to hear it.
Why would anyone want anything to do with you, after what you did?
SHUT—
“This is the place.” Sammy’s voice distracts me as he brings us to a stop in front of a five story apartment building sandwiched between two much more impressive looking structures. It’s clearly in need of some upkeep because it sticks out like a sore thumb, with several vestiges of wood and brick dangling limply from its surface. Sammy scratches the back of his neck. “S-sorry, it’s not much to look at.”
I smile, drawing myself closer to him—
Neither are you.
“I-I don’t mind.” My words stutter from my mouth, but Sammy smiles at me.
“Okay. Uhh, I think I got a flashlight in my apartment, but I’m up on the fourth floor. Want me to go get it?”
HA! Not even in his home yet and he’s already trying to abandon you!
Shut up!
“N-no, I’ll come along.”
He glances down at my leg. “I’m sorry it’s so high up. Will your knee be alright?”
Worthless limb on a worthless woman.
“Yeah. I’ll just take it slow and careful.”
He nods and smiles. “Okay.” As we step toward the door, he abruptly stops. “Oh, uhh… one other thing. I have a neighbor who’s… well, for lack of a nicer way to put it, he’s a real piece of shit. Not that I’m trying to sneak you in or anything, but for both our sake, it’d probably be better if he didn’t swing open his door and start shit with us. He’d definitely be the kind to do that.”
Already ashamed of you around his neighbors, what a catch this guy is, indeed!
I swear to God.
“Th-that’s okay.” I offer him a smile, though I know my expression is all sorts of fucked right now. Of any night for me to get a little reprieve from this bullshit, I wish it’d be tonight.
We travel up the small stoop leading to the front door; Sammy pulls it open and gestures for me to enter, ever the gentleman. I give another bashful smile before passing through—
A gentleman you don’t deserve.
Sammy silently pulls closed the portal behind himself, before nodding toward the stairs leading up to the second floor landing. I take his hand again, feeling his warmth through our connected limbs. He offers me the side nearest the banister, but I slowly ascend without its aid, continuing to cradle my damned tail. I try shoving it aside but it snaps back into place like it’s spring-loaded.
At the second floor, we turn to wrap back around and find the first stair leading up to the third story. However, the wood boards beneath our feet squeak and groan loudly with our steps, another sign of the building’s age. As we nearly pass the door of this level, it clicks open, a trace amount of light escaping through the crack.
Oh no.
Busted!
“Izzat you, Samuel?” A raspy, elderly voice emanates from the space between door and frame.
Sammy turns in the voice’s direction, giving my hand a little squeeze as he does so. “Oh, good evening, Mr. Garbowitz. I’m sorry, did I wake you?”
The door widens further, revealing a gallimimus gentleman who appears to be in his twilight years. He stares at Sammy past enormous, thick-rimmed glasses that rest tenuously at the end of his snout. “Ohh, no, you didn’t wake me. I’d usually still be watching my shows, but this electrical outage has put a damper on my TrawlNet enjoyment.” His head quivers as he slowly turns in my direction. A moment goes by before his eyes widen and a sly smile crosses his weathered lips. “What’s this? A lady caller this evening?”
Sammy nervously replies. “Uhh—well, y’see—I was on a date with—“
The elderly neighbor chuckles playfully. “Well, Samuel? Are you going to introduce me or are you just going to stammer?”
I take the initiative away from my incapacitated date, extending a hand. “I’m Aubrey Carter. It’s a pleasure to meet you, sir.”
Another grin crosses his face. “Please, call me Harold. I’ve been trying to get Samuel to call me Harold for months now but he just won’t do it!” He accepts my hand, but rather than shaking it plants a shaky kiss on my fingers.
I can’t help but smile at the show of courtesy, but Samuel places his hands on his hips. “What’s this about? Are you trying to steal Aubrey away from me, Mr. Garbowitz?”
Harold chuckles again, but doesn’t answer. Instead he turns his slow neck back into his apartment. “This power outage might not be ending for a while. If the boys downtown haven’t fixed it by now, they probably won’t fix it ‘til morning at the earliest. Come on in, let me get you two some candles.” He doesn’t wait for us to accept his invitation before wandering deeper into his own home, leaving the door wide open in his wake.
Sammy turns to me with a shrug and a whisper. “This isn’t the neighbor I was warning you about, by the way. That’d be Roger up on three who’s an asshole.”
I giggle. “I figured this wasn’t the bad one, unless you’re actually worried about Harold stealing me away.” I stick out my tongue before stepping into the apartment, earning a speechless look from my date.
Some date. Now you’re wasting time with an old codger. How pathetic.
I distract myself by glancing around the dimly lit room. A myriad of candles are sprinkled throughout the home, shedding enough light to give the space a feeling of nostalgic comfort. However, the coziness is betrayed by the mountains of newspaper that adorn almost every surface, with numerous towers of the folded parchments piled in each discernible corner of the room. The only clearly visible furniture is a recliner parked in front of a small television screen and the twin-sized mattress against the far wall.
Harold slowly hobbles over to a small kitchen cupboard, expending a bit of effort to bend over and rummage through its contents. I peek over my shoulder and gasp, quickly snatching up a few candles and knocking the newspapers they were sitting on top of to the floor. Before Harold can complete his slow rotation to glance at the racket, I’ve put the candles back down on the non-fire-hazard surface and face him with an innocent grin.
He grins in return. “Ahh, don’t mind the clutter. Years of reading the paper tends to accumulate, I’m afraid.” He turns back to the cupboard; Samuel merely shrugs at me. I guess he’s aware of his neighbor’s hoarding habit. I’d just prefer to not burn to death tonight is all.
Spending all night here? Yeah fuckin’ right. You’ll be on your ass in the street before—
Shut up!
With a half dozen small candles grasped between his knobbly fingers, Harold begins the slow trek back to Sammy and I. He grins again, peering at me past his enormous spectacles. “So… erm, Aubrey, was it?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Aubrey. How did you meet this fine young gentleman?”
Pure, stupid coincidence.
“H-he recognized a jazz song I was humming at a bus stop and struck up a conversation about it.”
His grin widens and his journey is half-completed. “Oh, a jazz enthusiast, are you? I know Samuel enjoys that music, but I’ve always been more fond of ragtime myself. Don’t listen to it so much anymore, but Greta and I used to love dancing to it.”
I perk up. “Greta is your wife?”
He nods, though looks a bit sorrowful. “She was. Died about six years ago.”
“Oh… I’m sorry, sir.”
He shakes his head, replacing the solemn look with a warm smile. “That’s life. But enough about me. This Samuel you bagged is quite a fella. Did you know, he brings my morning paper up to my door every day!”
Through my peripheral vision, I notice Sammy scratch the back of his neck nervously. “It’s no trouble, Mr. Garbowitz.”
Harold shakes his head again, still a few shuffled paces away. “No, no. Don’t sell yourself short, Samuel. You’re the only neighbor I have who would do that for me.” His eyes take on a weary look of self-realization. “It’s only getting harder for me to get up and down those stairs, so that little gesture means a lot to an old man like me.”
He’s finally arrived close enough for Sammy to accept his gift. “Thank you, Mr. Garbowitz. For the nice words, and for the candles, too.”
A shaky hand finds its way to Sammy’s arm; Harold gazes at my date with a warm smile. “Greta and I were never able to have any children of our own, but if I had a son, I’d have hoped he’d be a kind man like you.” He blinks. “Ah, do you have a lighter in your home? I could find one for—“
Sammy cuts him off “I should have some matches, it’s alright. Thank you though!”
Harold slowly turns my way, extending a hand. “It was a pleasure meeting you, Aubrey!”
My hand reflexively finds his to complete the parting gesture, but I say nothing. I can’t say anything. Not past—
You’re trying not to think about it, ain’t ya? You’re not pulling one over on me. That ain’t how this game works and you know it.
Shut up.
I do everything in my power to not look rude as I make my way back into the hall with Sammy. He doesn’t seem to notice my contorted expression in the near pitch-black hall, simply offering his free hand to me again as we continue the journey upward.
See, I know what you know. I’m in here just as much as you are. I ain’t even real, just a voice in your fuckin’ head. So who’s really the bad guy here, huh? Is it me? Or is it the daffy bitch who can’t get over—
Shut up.
We arrive at the third floor, Sammy doing everything in his power to move cautiously and quietly past this door. I tiptoe along with him, trying—
Watch your step. You wouldn’t want—
SHUT. UP.
Sammy glances back at me before nodding upward. He said he’s on the fourth floor. One more to go.
You don’t belong here. You don’t belong with any man. Not after what you did.
Please stop. Please. Not tonight.
“This is the place.”
Sammy glances at me nervously before fishing around in a pocket for his key. Inserting it into the lock, a soft click grant us admittance to his—
“Boof!”
What looks to be a throw rug on legs dances in place within the darkened apartment, tail wagging and tongue flopping freely from its owner’s mouth. Beady black eyes gaze up at Sammy, but the creature’s excitement doubles when it notices my presence.
“Heya, Saxon. How ya doin’, buddy? But what did I tell you about that barkin’?” The dog gives an acknowledging rumble as it accepts Sammy’s affection. “Aubrey, this is Saxon. Saxon, Aubrey.”
I step into the home, momentarily distracted from my internal tormentor by the adorable shaggy hound that prances over to me. “Oh, my. Hello there, Saxon. Even more handsome than your owner, I see!” His tail wags happily as I pet the furry beast.
Nice one. Why not just tell the skinnie he’s ugly to his face?
I stop scratching Saxon’s head and straighten up, my face contorting further in a furious grimace. Already bored of me, the dog spins back toward his owner as Sammy rummages in a kitchen drawer. “Here we go. Let’s get these candles lit.” He sets the wax cylinders on a tiny dining room table before striking a match and bringing it to wick, allowing a moment for the flame to pass to each candle.
With a flick of his wrist, the match extinguishes and Sammy puts his hands on his hips. “Better. At least we can see somethin’ now!” His eyes meet mine; with effort, I’ve reset my expression back to a neutral one. “Hey, uhh… sorry to do this, but I gotta take this big lunk out to potty. If I don’t, he’s gonna make a stinky mess in here. Will you be alright for a minute while I run downstairs?” I nod, and with a snap of his fingers the sheepdog falls in tow behind him. Sammy gives me a smile before the patter of feet belonging to both dog and human descend outside the now closed door.
As the subtle illumination continues to brighten the room, I take in the spartan furnishings and near complete lack of decoration. Though the space is clean, there’s hardly anything here. Not even a couch or television reside in the apartment, only a single wooden chair next to the minuscule dining room table.
If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. Please report it.
Wow, you sure picked a winner, didn’t you?
I cautiously step across the room, my eyes coming to rest on the small bed tucked into the opposite corner. Next to it, a shoddy end table holds…
Wait. Is that a clock radio? I move closer, bending down to examine it.
It’s… the same kind that I have.
Guess that’s all this skinnie can afford in this dump.
I straighten up, balling my fists. Shut up. I mean it.
What? I’m just tellin’ ya what you already know! What you’re too afraid to say out loud. This skinnie is a broke chump.
My eyes close and my lip curls. That’s not true. He got a new job, and besides that, why would I give a shit how much money he has? He makes me happy.
Pfft. Yeah, that’s gonna solve your problems. How’s he gonna provide for you, huh?
I don’t need him to provide for me. I can do that for myself. Hell, I could provide for both of us!
Some modern woman you are! What next, you’ll have him puttin’ on an apron and washing the dishes? Get real.
Shut up! Why can’t you just leave me alone?!
Leave you alone? You dumb bitch, I AM you! I ain’t a fuckin’ ghost, though I might as well be with how quick you betrayed me—
“SHUT UP!”
“Whoah, Aubrey? Is everything okay?!” I spin around to watch as the door latches shut behind the man whose home I’m standing in.
The realization of my verbalized outburst causes me to stammer. “I-I’m fine! Everything’s okay! I was just lookin’ at your… at your clock radio here! It’s the same one I got at home!”
Real smooth. He knows you’re a fuckin’ nutcase now. Pack it up, you blew it, just like I knew you would.
My voice shakes. “U-umm… Th-this is a good brand! I picked this one cuz it’s got a great speaker and really carries the depth of bass notes well. M-most speakers sound too tinny or washed out—“
What are you babbling about now? Look at him! He’s getting annoyed with you!
Sammy cautiously steps forward, momentarily glancing at the clock radio before bringing his eyes back to me. “Aubrey…? You look… pale. Are you sure you’re alright?”
My legs start shaking. “I-I remember hearing ‘So What’ on it for th-the first time. Did you know that even th-though the written key signature of ‘So What’ has no sh-sharps or flats, it has a tonic cord of D and uses the Dorian scale? This m-makes the tonal center change and—and—“
This is pathetic. Just throw yourself out the fuckin’ window already and be done with it.
“Aubrey… you’re freakin’ me out. What’s going on?”
It wouldn’t be the first time you cast yourself down and ruined a man’s life, would it? WOULD IT?!
I try to blink the tears back. “I… I…”
My knees give out. I crumple, my tail coiling so tightly around me that it threatens to cut off its own circulation. My hands clap over my face, covering the shame of my muffled sobs.
In an instant, Sammy is on his knees next to me, placing gentle but confused hands on my shoulders. His touch only makes me shrink further inward. “Aubrey…”
You can’t do anything right. You’re a disgrace. You won’t even tell him what’s got you so upset, will you, Aubie?
My stomach churns, the hollow pit within screaming out in silent agony.
Because if you do tell him… he won’t want you anymore.
I grit my teeth, trying to suppress my weeping.
What man would?
With all of my might, I lower my hands and open my eyes. Past the tear-clouded haze, I see Sammy. He is inches away, face awash with worry and fear. He says nothing but keeps his hands on my shoulders, gently rubbing his thumbs up and down my scales to try and calm me. He watches intently as I do everything in my power to compose myself.
What man would want a broken woman like you?
If any man would… it would be Sammy. Please, God. Let it be Sammy.
I draw in a shaky breath and step toward oblivion.
“Eight months ago… I was in the hospital…”
—
The first thing I remembered was a rhythmic electronic thrum. I recalled hearing it and immediately superimposing the furtive piano intro of Art Drakey’s ‘Moanin’’ on top of it. The beat didn’t quite line up, but the ivory in my mind slowed itself adequately to keep time.
Despite the steady beeping belonging to a heart monitor, I didn’t know where I was. I couldn’t open my eyes and my head hurt like a son of a bitch. The pain came in waves, starting off localized and manageable before spreading out across my body. First was my arms. Even attempting to lift them off of the bed beneath me was a herculean effort, and the moment I tried the bruises and lacerations made themselves aggressively known. Dull throbs and stings fired through my scales and elbow feathers until I stopped trying.
Next was my back. Any effort to sit up was only met with agonized soreness, my vertebrae entirely uncooperative. I wasn’t sure if my tail was still attached to my body since I couldn’t see or feel it at all. In reality, it hung next to me in a separate ceiling-suspended sling, but I wouldn’t know that for a while yet.
Around the time I began trying to unsuccessfully test my neck’s range of motion, a set of footsteps made their way past Art Drakey’s everlasting piano solo. Some murmured voices later, the footsteps vanished again. After a few more minutes of trying and failing to turn my head, a voice appeared.
“Aubrey… are you awake?”
I thought I replied “Yes, I’m awake,” but in reality my teeth didn’t move and my tongue didn’t flex. All I provided was an affirmative moan.
“Good. I’m Dr. Weber. Do you know where you are right now?”
“No, I don’t,” I grumbled past my still half-paralyzed mouth with a single guttural syllable.
“You’re at the Metropolitan Hospital. Do you have any memory of what happened?”
To this, I responded with neither grunt nor gurgle. Instead, I racked my brain, trying to decrypt the riddle of what would cause me to end up in a hospital, and in a state like this.
I heard a chair slide forward and felt a set of fingers lightly come to rest on my own. “I’m… terribly sorry to say this… but you had an accident.”
An accident? What sort of—
“Your neighbors called us. Said that they heard a loud crashing sound in your home. When they went to investigate, the front door was open. And… you were inside, unconscious.”
I tried to shake my head, convinced this was just an elaborate dream involving sleep paralysis. I was probably just aching because of—
“You… fell down the stairs.” He sighs. “You’ve been here for two weeks. And…”
No. Oh my God, no.
“You had a miscarriage. We couldn’t save the child. I’m sorry.”
This isn’t real. This isn’t real. This isn’t rea—
All at once, agonizing pain fired through my right knee. It felt as though someone was prying my knee cap off of my body with a pair of rusty tongs, wrenching the cartilage and tearing the tendons loose. I screamed, opening my mouth as wide as I could, forcing any air that had found its way into my broken body out in a single, sustained shriek. At once, the doctor scrambled upward, barking orders to someone else. I didn’t even feel the needle pierce my arm. Slowly, the pain in my knee subsided and my consciousness slipped away once more.
My baby… I lost my baby…
When I regained consciousness, the pain returned immediately, but this time I did not scream. I wanted to. I wanted so desperately to wail and gnash my teeth, I wanted to fly from the bed and destroy everything around me. I… wanted to draw razor blades across my wrists.
Instead, I ran away. Deep in the recesses of my mind, buried in the alcoves and twisting hallways, I came across a small lounge. Within, a single record player with a mountain of records stacked next to it greeted me. All of my favorites were here: John Coalmane, Miles Cratis, Art Drakey, Horace Bronze… album after album after album, all excitedly waiting to find their way to the record spindle to dazzle and enthrall me with their joyous, energetic highs and their solemn, soulful lows.
The doctors would come and go, asking me how I was feeling, testing my appendages, administering more medicine. I barely responded to them. I had no interest. I was too enraptured by the music, hidden away in the one place where pain couldn’t find me. Slowly, the splints and bandages were removed as the scrapes and bruises healed.
Of course, the worst of it was my knee. The doctors explained that my leg had essentially twisted itself around a hundred and eighty degrees during my descent. Even after setting it back into place with surgery, the likelihood of the appendage being completely paralyzed was so high it was practically a guarantee. Even if I did miraculously retain feeling in my lower leg, the knee would never be the same.
Their words rolled over me inconsequentially, drowned out by blissful brass and playful percussion. Even as they poked and prodded the cartilage, searing pain blasting through the appendage and the rest of my body, I didn’t flinch or groan. I was too enraptured by Miles Cratis, playing songs for me he’d never played for anyone else, just for me in my own personal sanctuary. I knew the records well enough to remember most without flaw, but after expending my internal catalog several times my imagination started forming improv sessions, combinations of sounds and styles that sometimes worked and sometimes didn’t. That’s the true joy of jazz—many times artists just throw things at the wall and see what sticks. Despite my broken body, within my own mind I had found paradise.
However, it was short-lived. The first time I registered any sort of outward emotion after my initial outburst was when they switched me to a new bed, one that would support me sitting up. Until then I’d been content to merely stare at the ceiling whenever my eyes weren’t closed, pissing into a bag and caring not about anyone or anything around me. I’d shut everything out in favor of my music. But when they situated me on the new mattress, my eyes were able to lower themselves for the first time to…
My stomach. My smooth, hollow form and the now vacant womb it concealed. The pronounced bulge that had once hidden away an infant no more than a month away from breathing its first breath, letting out its first cry, opening its eyes for the first time was now absent. In its place… nothing. Emptiness. A void filled only with “what could have been”.
All at once, the music stopped. The only sound was that of the retching sobs that leaked past my gritted teeth. Tears streamed down my cheeks and I went into a panic. The nurses who had just transported me had to restrain my arms as I began grasping at my midsection, convinced it was an optical illusion and that my baby was still there, merely obscured by the hospital gown or the odd angle. My baby was so close to being born. They were going to fill my life with joy and love. I wanted them so badly.
I only calmed down when they jammed another needle into my arm and fired more chemicals into my body. As sleep overtook me, the vision of my little miracle smiling up at me as I cradled them in my arms faded away forever.
It was the last time I cried in the hospital.
My first visitor didn’t arrive until a week after I initially woke up. The tall pterodactyl stepped through the doorway holding a small vase stuffed full of flowers. He set it on the vacant table next to my bed before peering down at me. My eyes were open, focusing on nothing in particular as another rip-roaring solo blasted through my internal record player’s immaculate speaker. Hiding in my lounge had transitioned to less of an escape from the physical pain since most of my bruises had healed and my knee, still bound in a sling, had reduced its presence to a dull throbbing. Now the music had become an escape from my emotions.
He offered a gentle, sad smile. “How are you holding up, Carter?”
I didn’t respond.
“The others from the station send their well-wishes and sympathies. Believe it or not, Ruth was asking about you. Was worried because she hadn’t seen you for a few weeks.”
The name barely meant anything to me.
The commissioner pulled over a chair and sat next to the bedside. He folded his hands in his lap, staring at the space between his feet for a moment before he raised his eyes to me again. “Do you remember what happened?”
My only response was to turn my head and meet his gaze. My expression was apathetic. I did not smile, nor did I frown. I merely looked at the being seated next to me before turning away from him again to stare at nothing.
I remembered what happened. I didn’t at first, but it returned to me. The late-night carefree whistling. The lackadaisical attitude. The smell of bourbon on his breath. The shouting match. My pleas with him to change his ways, to go back to being the man that I had married instead of the drunken oaf he had become.
I remembered his yell, and the shove that sent me into the air. I remembered seeing his eyes for the last time, hazy, incoherent, and utterly loveless as they rose into the sky.
I remembered the blame. The blame of my husband for being in such a drunken stupor that he would do that to me, but even more than that… the blame of myself. Blame for putting myself in that position, for having married a man capable of doing something like this. Blame for not catching the railing of the stairs and preventing my fall. Blame for being so careless with such a precious life inside of me that was now lost forever.
I had convinced myself that my child’s death was my fault.
I spoke none of this aloud, content to simply return to my music, but the commissioner placed a hand on mine as though in reply. “I’m terribly sorry this happened to you, Aubrey. Truly sorry. I can’t even imagine.”
Commissioner Aaron was the only visitor I received.
—
The candles atop the dining room table are about halfway consumed. At some point during my rambling, Sammy had helped me to my feet and set me on the edge of his bed before quickly retrieving the solitary dining room chair and sliding it over to sit across from me. Though I didn’t see his face for most of my story, my focus too far off as I recalled that horrific time, his attention never strayed from me. He didn’t interrupt, merely listening to the words that tumbled past my lips. Even Saxon was patient and attentive, lounging on a nearby folded blanket on the floor, peering at me past the strands of shaggy white hair that hung over his eyes.
I stare at my shoes, my eyes dry and weary. A faint smile tugs at my lips as I gently shift my right knee. It feels tense after the several flights of stairs and my topple to the floor, but it still moves. “Frankly, it’s a blessing that my knee still works. It took a lot of physical therapy, and it’s still not perfect, but I’m glad I don’t have to use a cane or a wheelchair. Now, it’s… a reminder, I guess. One I’ll probably always have, for the rest of my life.”
I bring my eyes up to meet Sammy’s. He meets them attentively, his face awash with sympathy. I try to smile, but my lip quivers. “That’s everything. That’s all of me. I wanted to tell you all of this sooner… I needed to be honest with you about everything… but I just couldn’t until it boiled over.” I fight back the tears that begin churning up again. “I’m a broken woman, Sammy. I was going to be a mother and I lost my baby. And I just don’t know if you want to be with a woman as broken as I am.”
In response, Sammy gingerly rises from his seat and closes the half-stride gap between us. He bends down and gently wraps his arms around me. Though his actions are slow and deliberate, I still can’t help but gasp in response. In his embrace, he whispers to me. “I’m so sorry, Aubrey. I’m sorry for everything that happened to you. But none of this changes how I feel about you. Not in the slightest.”
I shudder at his words, clenching my teeth to suppress the sob as I grip the back of his shirt. I cling to him, terrified that he might slip away from me. He pulls me closer, caressing my hair as I bury my face in his shoulder. Makeup and tears stain his handsome shirt, but he doesn’t complain, simply cradling me in his arms as I weep.
Sammy. Please. Please don’t reject me. I’m sorry for being so broken. I want to be with you. I…
I…
With a delicate motion, he shifts backward, bringing his gaze to meet mine. I hold my breath as I stare into his deep blue eyes, twin swirling galaxies of compassion and kindness that etch themselves upon my heart. His lips part; as if in slow motion I watch them form the words before he speaks them.
“I love you.”
At once, the veil of darkness around me shatters. I let out a singular cry, one of bliss, relief, solace and triumph. I try to press my lips against his, but I can barely move, sapped of all strength by the deluge of emotions that wash over me. His warm touch comforts me, and his soft kiss causes my heart to swell with affirmation and longing. When my breathing finally steadies itself enough for me to articulate words, I form the ones I so desperately wanted to say earlier tonight, the words I want to repeat over and over again:
“I love you, Sammy.”
I melt in his embrace, shuddering away the last vestiges of my sorrow and pain in residual sobs. In their place flows the love and acceptance of this human who stopped to compliment my humming of a jazz tune at a bus stop. Why fate saw fit to bring him into my life, I’ll never know, but in this moment I am eternally grateful.
The light begins to dim as one of the smaller candles expends the last of its energy and gives up its spirit in a sprig of extinguished smoke. My trembling has subsided and my stuttered sobs have been replaced with gentle breaths as Sammy takes a seat next to me on the bed. I rest my head against his chest, hearing his heartbeat. It drums out a rhythm filled with love for me; mine taps out its own steady solo of reciprocation. He runs his comforting hands across my back, reassuring me, wordlessly accepting me, flaws and all.
With a sigh, I lift my eyes to meet his. “I’m sorry about all this. I didn’t want to ruin our night, but I couldn’t keep it bottled up any longer. I… had to tell you. I had to be sure you wouldn’t reject me.”
He smiles and runs a soft hand against the side of my face. “You didn’t ruin anything. I’m glad you trusted me enough to tell me this, but I meant what I said before. Everything that happened to you… none of it changes a thing about how I feel. If anything, it only convinces me of how strong you are.”
I lower my head. “I was a mess for a really long time, Sammy. It all hurt so much, I just couldn’t escape the prison I made for myself in my head. It took a long time for me to even be able to get out of bed, let alone function like a normal person.” The end of my tail quivers in my lap. Pins and needles communicate how long it’s been stationed in its defensive posture.
Sammy glances down at it before placing his hands gently on the appendage. It twitches in surprise at his touch, but quickly relaxes as he strokes its feathers. “I can’t imagine, Aubrey. I’ve… never been in a position like that. My ex-wife and I never had any kids, thank God. It would have made the divorce so much worse if we did. But if she had gotten pregnant while we were together, and we lost the baby… I’d have been devastated.”
My hands come to rest atop his, but he releases my tail and balls his fingers into fists. A scowl forms on his lips. “I’d have been devastated… but I’d have been there for her. And I sure as fuck wouldn’t have been the reason for it happening.” His eyes snap up to meet mine. “Is your ex-husband still around? Because if he is, I’d very much like to have some choice words with him.”
I gently wrap my fingers around his fists and let out a sigh. “He’s not in the picture anymore. Truthfully, that night was the last time I saw him. When I returned home, our car was gone along with most of his belongings. I couldn’t afford the mortgage on my own so I had to sell the house.” I try to extend a sympathetic smile. “For what it’s worth, if I saw him again I’d also have choice words, or more.”
Sammy’s anger persists for a moment before he finally relinquishes it, uncurling his fists and accepting my fingers interlacing with his. He shakes his head. “I just can’t believe there’d be someone like that in this world. Human or dinosaur. You just… don’t do that. It’s despicable.” His eyes quickly widen. “Aubrey, I would never hurt you. I promise you that.”
I lean forward and kiss him. “I know, Sammy. You’re a gentle, loving person. You’re exactly the man I want.”
A warm smile slowly forms on his lips and he returns my kiss. “I love you, Aubrey.”
His words fill me with warmth. I lean forward into his embrace, nuzzling against his neck as he caresses my back. It takes a moment for me to notice, but the familiar feathered appendage that had been barricading itself against my stomach has finally withdrawn, instead wearily resting upon the floor next to the bed. I nudge myself even closer, bringing our bodies into contact. I feel Sammy tense up but he doesn’t pull away, instead continuing to offer his comfort and warmth to me.
I want him. I want to be with him. I want to make love to him. I want to feel his arms around me. I want to feel his body against mine. I want to feel him inside of me. I want to share my love with him physically and emotionally. I want… I…
My jaw pops as I let out an enormous yawn. My hands fire up to the sides of my face in embarrassment. “Ouch.”
Sammy leans back, first looking at me with concern, then with amusement. “’Ouch’ is right, I heard that one. Sheesh!”
I giggle, then let out a weary sigh. “I’m… I’m sorry, Sammy. I really did want to… be with you tonight, but I’m exhausted. I feel like I’m about to pass out.”
He shakes his head before offering me a gentle smile. “It’s okay, Aubrey. There’s no rush on that sorta thing.” He averts his eyes and blushes. “I-I mean… I want that, too, but… I want it to be the right time for both of us. You went through a lot tonight.”
I rub my thumb across the crescent moon pendant still dangling around my neck. “You’re a really special guy, Sammy. I’m… happy you fell in love with me.”
He draws me closer still, his breath sending a tingle down my spine. “I’m happy you fell in love with me, too.” His kiss is soft and tender, full of hope and affirmation. He slowly parts from me and rises from the bed, glancing over toward the closet. “The bed’s all yours. I think I got an extra pillow and blanket in there. Saxon and I will have a little slumber party on the floor over—“
My fingers tighten on his shirt sleeve. He glances down at me in confusion. “Sammy. Just because we’re not gonna have sex right now doesn’t mean you have to sleep on the floor.”
He cocks an eyebrow. “A-are you sure? I don’t wanna make you uncomfortable…”
I gaze up at him, though keeping my eyes open is growing more difficult. “Your arms around me have made me the most comfortable I’ve been since I got out of the hospital all those months ago.”
He stands stock still for a moment, his cheeks brightening another shade of red before he reaches down to unlace his shoes. I bend over to unbuckle the straps on the backs of my own shoes, setting them off to the side before bringing my legs up onto the bed and scooting back. He climbs onto the mattress next to me; my arms immediately encircle him and my tail slinks around to meet the flat of his back. He returns my embrace, gazing at me with comfort and security. I nuzzle myself against his chest, the scent of his cologne filling my nostrils as my breathing steadies. I feel his fingers run through my hair before reality fades away and sleep claims me.
For the first time in eight months… not a single nightmare intrudes my rest.