Page 121 of All That We Are Together

Axel entered without knocking. I was sitting in my pajama top and panties. It was weird to see him there. Since that first time I’d left in the middle of the night to crawl into bed with him, he hadn’t set foot in my room.

“What do you want now?” I said.

“We’re not finished, Leah.”

“I already said everything I have to say…”

“Bullshit. You didn’t. You know you didn’t.” He stepped toward me, grabbed my face, and kissed me.

I closed my eyes, enraptured by his scent and the addictive taste of his lips. He jerked down my panties and threw me on the bed.

“Why won’t you?”

“Why won’t I what?” I saw the tension in his face, felt it in his fingers when he touched me, everything about him screamed frustration. “Axel…”

“Say it. Tell me you’ll never forgive me.”

I felt him push inside me. My eyes were staring to water as he rammed into me.

“I understand, okay? I understand. You want your revenge. You want to do to me what I did to you, because I pushed you away when everything was fine, I wanted you to leave…”

There was no other pain like the pain I felt just then. None. Nothing hurt like Axel fucking me with rage, with disappointment, with the bitterness of kisses that taste like goodbyes and mistakes we can never undo.

I hugged him and he went on thrusting. I hugged him tight, as if with my arms around him I could make him understand how wrong he was.

“I would never want to avenge myself against you,” I whispered. “Never, Axel.”

He stopped, breathing hard, maybe on the verge of tears. I held him and kissed him softly and rested a hand on his pounding heart.

“Jesus, babe, Jesus…”

“This is about me, Axel. I forgave you a long time ago; no matter how much I told myself I wanted to take some parts of you and leave others, accept some and be angry with others, I was wrong…” Again, I felt he could see right through me. “I could tell you I fell in love with you again, but I think I’d be lying to myself, and that I just wish I could believe that, because if I stop to think about it…I’m not sure I ever stopped being in love with you, Axel. I feel like those three years were just a parenthesis. You were always there; in one way or another, you were always there… I don’t know what it is to be alone, understand? I don’t know what it is, I don’t know if I’m capable of it, but I’m scared to never even try because that’ll mean I’ll have always had that doubt. I don’t want vengeance. I don’t want to hurt you. I don’t want any of that.”

I had never seen him looking so much like a defenseless little boy as when he realized that he couldn’t give me what I wanted. We rolled over in bed, and now I was the one on top, seeking him, finding him. Axel looked at me so intensely as I shifted on top of him that I gasped. His hands felt nervous on my breasts. We never broke eye contact as we made love, and with every stroke we kissed each other and it was such sweet relief, knowing there was nothing left to add, feeling free.

I hugged him when we were finished and let his gravelly voice caress me.

“I love you more than anything,”

“I love you,” I whispered.

“A thousand yellow submarines.”

“Millions of submarines.”

112

Leah

When I woke the next morning, the bed still smelled like him, and it took a moment for me to notice the aroma of freshly brewed coffee. I walked over to the threshold of the living room and stood there, staring at Axel, who was sitting by the window and smoking, his neck covered in marks from my kisses the night before. I don’t know why, but that image stuck with me: his fingers tense on the window frame, the sunlight breaking over the glass, his eyes focused on the new day sky.

I walked over on tiptoe and hugged him from behind. He barely moved, but he did squeeze my hand when it covered his stomach. I kissed his back, then let him go and poured myself a coffee. I dressed quickly afterward, because I had to be in the gallery in half an hour, and I was already running late. I said goodbye in a whisper: “We’ll talk later.” He gave me one last kiss.

That was our morning routine, sure. But sometimes a little detail is enough to break the routine and stick in your memory. Something silly. Like on the day of the accident, the day I lost my parents, how they looked so cheerful in the front seat and“Here Comes the Sun” was playing, and then it was gone and the landscape looked blurry through the windows.

You don’t think about those details until you realize you might be noticing them for the last time. Then you do, and they take on a different value. Like the kiss Axel gave me that morning, his fingers strong on my waist, his deep voice wishing me a good day, and the smile he gave me before I left, a smile that didn’t reach his eyes.

Because when I returned that night, all I found was emptiness.