A Stormy Night Pt. 06

Fuck this! All of this shit!

"I'm sorry," I start, which causes a look of perplexed wonder to appear on her face. "About that time with my mother."

Comprehension then dawns on her, her expression softening all the more as she says, "It's okay, Shawn. You didn't want to talk about it."

"I didn't, but now I do." I pause for a long while, mustering up every thread of power to be able to open up this delicate subject for the first time ever, but she remains silent, content with me taking my time. Finally, I draw in a deep breath before speaking. "When I was seven my father left us, just like that. At the time it didn't make any sense why he would do that from nowhere. To me, everything was perfectly fine. Yeah, I was just a kid so how could I have known if things were wrong? But then he was always there for us, he never got unreasonably angry and he did his best so that our lives were alright, I could see at least that. Even my mother looked totally lost in the first few months of his departure, to the point where she couldn't do much anymore. The first few years without him were terrible; I could sense his ghost nearly all the time, and only one question plagued my mind: why did he go?

"Later on I understood why when we saw him on the news being interviewed about how it felt to be rich after striking oil and how exactly his life changed. He talked about how challenging it was before for him to stay afloat in a world that did everything to drown him but how he kept on pushing and all that inspirational talk. Never once did he mention us, and that's when things really took an ugly turn for my mother. She became sour, cold, spiteful and doubtful of everyone's motives including mine. Then she started to blame me for everything, saying that I was the reason why he abandoned us and was never coming back. I knew that her heart was just in so much agony—even mine was—but she made it impossible for me to try to convince her that everything we were going through was of my father's own wrongdoing and just his. Ultimately, when she adamantly refused to see the truth time and time again, I took the first chance I had to leave her behind without much opposition from the both of us. The concept of family was lost on us forever I guess, so why bother to fight for something that was long dead and you didn't believe in either?"

I descend into silence, done telling her the origin of my dilemma. She still doesn't speak, trying to process all that I've told her, and then worry spikes up in my heart. Did I say too much? Did I cross the line by stupidly assuming that she'll be able to sympathize with me? Fuck! If I jeopardized everything between us just because I loosened my grip on my emotions then—

"So you never visited or talked to her since then?" she inquires gently, quelling the rising panic in me.

"She died when I was twenty," I admit, my heart constricting in an agonizing manner whenever I think about that depressing fact. "I never got the chance—or tried to take the chance, I guess."

Her hand impulsively clutches me tighter. "I'm so sorry."

All I can do is nod, words momentarily failing me.

"What about your dad?" she ends up asking to fill in the suffocating silence.

His last call pops into mind, and this time I do all I can to keep my volatile emotions at bay. "It's... complicated with him."

She looks up at me, and I'm more than stunned from the amount of sadness I see glowing in her eyes. She places a hand on the side of my face, affectionately caressing it as she says with a rawness in her voice, "I'm so sorry. I could never have imagined that's what you've been dealing with this entire time."

Tears sparkle in her eyes, threatening to spill out and once again my heart contracts with brutality, touched by her vast ocean of compassion. I raise my hand to mimic her action by stroking her lovely face, showing a small smile of assurance. I say in a low voice, "Baby, it's okay. Don't feel bad for something that happened a long time ago and isn't your fault. It's not worth the tears."

"But—"

"No. Don't think any more about it. Just don't."

Sliding down my hand so that it's at the back of her neck, I lean in and carefully fit my mouth to hers, aware of the places where we touch all in an instant. I pull back slowly, letting her take in a couple seconds' worth of air before kissing her again, loving the suppleness and luscious taste of her lips as ages dawdle by. The ache in my heart gradually weakens, and then I experience the weirdest thing. It feels as if chains that once were bound securely around my chest are now loosening up enough for me to take in a gratifying breath, one without worry or pain or regret, sending waves of pronounced relief rushing in my veins. A part of me starts to levitate from the newfound freedom, letting me know that the burden of keeping the past to myself has vanished.

All because of Sandra.

Oh shit! Oh shit! The understanding of the force that has been attracting me to her this whole fucking time gives me a sucker punch, stealing all the oxygen from me for a minute: her extraordinary ability to unshackle me from all the negativity and suffering the world has to offer. It radiates from deep within her heart, surging out and touching all who are close, and having been blessed and healed by such a phenomenon just... well it just...

It just makes me whole.

Breaking the kiss, I say with acute gratitude, "Thank you for listening."

With the same appreciation reflecting in her face, she whispers back, "Thank you for opening up to me."

We smile, relishing this magnificent moment together. We then crawl under the covers and Sandra removes her bra before we snuggle up to each other, taking immense comfort in the other's company as we slowly but surely drift off into a serene sleep together.