Late Valentine Ch. 02

I have no idea how long we maintain this pace. At times, we move so slowly we're hardly moving at all; more of a subtle twitch; a reflexive response to being so intimately fitted together, only dimly aware that Rob's murmuring my name until, abruptly, he says it with more volume and urgency, and then again, his hips rising, moving a little more quickly.

'Yes, Rob. Yes,' I whisper, wrapping my arms tighter around his back, willing him to come.

He still maintains his steady, slow, thrust, his chest starting to heave. Shifting his hips, he finds a different, euphoric, place inside me; the key. I let it go, borne high and wide by the heat and the roar, gripping onto him, digging my fingers into his flesh. He growls my name as he comes, holding himself tight in me, the solid beat of his heart filling us.

+++

I try to roll off, to take my weight off Elizabeth, but she resists, tightening her arms around me.

'No, don't go yet,' she whispers, her breath playing over my neck, causing my cock to twitch and both of us to exhale at the feel of it.

She raises an eyebrow at me, a glint of a smile in her lovely brown eyes.

'Hmm. I'd forgotten how much I like doing this in the mornings,' I offer, which raises a wider smile from her.

But it's the truth. When was the last time I did this, waking up with someone and having sex before breakfast? Except this wasn't sex. This was something else entirely. My mind is still shaking with it. Clichés abound, and I'm not going to let them take up energy by running through them even to myself, but they all feel startlingly, rudely, brilliantly true.

'I feel kind of bad for wasting the coffee and toast.'

'Hmm.' I glance over at the table, then back to her. 'I don't. But I'll make some fresh.'

We disengage, reluctantly. I pull my boxers back on, watching as she sits up, her poor, crumpled nightdress falling down her body from where I'd shoved it up high. She crinkles her nose.

'I think we've made quite a mess of your clean sheets, Rob.'

I laugh. 'Yes, probably. I'll change them after breakfast, but I'm not sure about this. Shall I wash this too?' I lean down, gathering the fabric of her nightdress in one hand.

'I'm pretty sure I can rough it for one more night. Or maybe you'll lend me something to wear in bed for tonight?'

I stand up. Of course, she's leaving tomorrow.

'Yes, maybe I will. Toast and coffee, then?' and I pick up the neglected tray.

+++

As soon as he's left the bedroom I feel too lonely to wait here by myself, so I get up, clean up a little in the bathroom, pull out the big old sweatshirt I always travel with, yank it over my head, grab my glasses and follow him down the stairs. He's leaning against the stove, legs crossed at the ankles, arms across his chest, looking into a distance only he can see. Once he catches sight of me he silently opens an arm out and pulls me in.

We stand like this until the coffee machine does its work. We don't say much over breakfast either.

It's not until he sits back in his chair, pushing his plate away that he asks me, 'Are you ready for today's onslaught, do you think?'

'Maybe!'

'I hope it isn't going to be too overwhelming. Meeting everyone, I mean.'

'I'm a big girl, Rob, don't worry about me.'

I sit there struggling and failing to find the right words to express what I'm feeling at the prospect of meeting his sister and his best friend and his god-daughter all at the same time, so I let it go. He squeezes my hand.

'I'm not even sure I want to share you today, we have so little time together before you go home.'

He looks a little crestfallen. I gather my courage.

'Is now a good time to talk about when we might see each other again?'

A big smile flashes across his face. 'Yes. Yes, that's a very good idea, Elizabeth.'

He refills my cup, and we discuss our options. As if it's the most natural thing in the world; as if we're really going to be in a relationship. At one point, we catch each other's eyes and share our happy incredulity in a blink and a twitch of our lips.

+++

'Yes, I've been there before. A long time ago. I liked it. Seem to remember it was scorching hot, but it must have been July or August sometime when we were there.'

'It'll be the complete opposite of scorching hot, I warn you,' she smiles. 'I think it's like one or two degrees there right now.'

'Hmm I wasn't thinking we'd need to actually leave your apartment, though? Would we?'

I watch her as she both blushes and gives a quiet snort of laughter. But I'm more than half-serious. The idea of being wrapped up in Elizabeth for an uninterrupted weekend is already turning me on. I can still smell her on me. I'm reluctant to wash her off my face.

She's standing up, cup and plate in hand, looking as though she's about to begin clearing our breakfast detritus away, her other hand pulling at her fatally crushed nightdress. It's stained wet down the back. I lurch for her, startling her as I close my hand around her arm to pull her back to me.

'Come back here for a minute,' I murmur, unable to stop myself lifting the cotton higher and sliding my hand in-between her thighs.

'What are you doing?'

I don't know what to say, so I say nothing, but continue to hold my hand in place, stroking my thumb along her thigh where her skin is sticky.

'You're still coming out of me,' she whispers, her face halfway between embarrassment and desire.

Some kind of animal noise escapes out of me as I pull her closer and as she lifts her nightdress higher. It's another thing I've forgotten until now. How much I like seeing my come sliding down a woman's thighs. I know it's primeval of me. But I can't deny it. I circle and rub my thumb through it on Elizabeth's skin, dimly aware of the cup and plate being returned to the table. I look up in time to see her give a small smile, and shuffle forwards to sit on my lap, opening herself to me, letting me feel the tremble in her muscles.

'Sweet lord, Rob.'

I breathe in, surprised. More so as she leans down to press her mouth on the place just below my ear which she's already learned is good for me. On cue, I shudder as her warm touch connects with my skin and her hand presses onto my shoulder, steadying herself.

'You love everything about sex, don't you, even the mess it makes?'

I smile. 'I do. And --' I circle my thumb more purposefully, 'and I really like to see this. Bit of a perversion, probably, but I can't help it.' Her thighs quiver, spread wide over my lap. 'It's been a long while since it's happened.'

'If I'd known, I wouldn't have cleaned myself up so much,' she murmurs, head still buried against my neck; her words vibrating into me.

But then she sits up to look me in the eyes. Pale shafts of winter sunlight bathe her beautiful face. It's the first time I've seen her eyes in full daylight, and I'm enchanted. There are tiny flecks of a lighter brown, almost a gold colour, circling her pupils. More in the left eye than the right. I'm tempted to take her glasses off, to look more closely, but realise she's saying something to me, and snap back to reality. I sort through what I think she's just said.

'This isn't anything like being with Catherine, Elizabeth. Nothing like it.' I hesitate, trying to read the expression on her face. 'This is real. And,' I inhale, 'and so much better.'

A little smile begins to turn up the corners of her mouth, and then something else flicks across her eyes.

'She never came here. Catherine, I mean. We met elsewhere. Never here.' I trace the pink blush across her décolletage with a finger. 'You're the first woman who's ever been here, actually.'

'I find that hard to believe.'

I shrug, trying not to show how self-conscious I feel about that admission. 'It's the truth.'

'That's not what I was doubting, Rob. It's hard to believe you've been unattached for that long. You must be the very definition of the eligible bachelor. Doesn't everyone around you try to fix you up with women, compatible or otherwise?'

'Not really. And I'm exceptionally good at not doing something if I don't want to. Blind dates definitely fit that description.'

+++

Watching him rap the brass door knocker then push at the front door with the flat of his hand, I reflect on how he seems so very solidly connected, as if he's completely sure of where he is and why. A natural confidence I envy. It was what I'd noticed as he'd been striding down the street the first time I saw him. I always feel as if I skate over the surface of things, afraid to touch down. Except with him. The thoughts tumble around my mind as we step inside the house, into the competing sounds of a kitchen being tidied and of two small girls whipping up a storm of giggling.

'Downstairs!' a voice calls out, rather unnecessarily, since Rob is already tugging my hand in the direction of the graceful staircase in front of us.

And as we descend, the noise levels spike.

'Uncle Robbie! Uncle Robbie!'

'Look at me, look, look at me!'

Robbie? Really? Belatedly I realise I probably need to buckle up, as that will surely be the least of today's surprises.

I look on while two cute little girls skip and jump, grabbing at Rob's hands, competing for his attention. The guy standing at the sink wipes his hands on a towel, smiling a warm and open smile, before pushing at his glasses and greeting me.

'You must be Elizabeth,' a barely concealed twitch of intense curiosity flits across his mild face before he takes my hand.

'I am,' I agree.

'I'm John and these two horrors are my daughters. Grace, Faith, where are your manners? Leave Uncle Robbie alone for a second and say hello to Elizabeth.'

Two faces turn to me, one more shy than the other, and obediently they say hello before returning their attention to Rob. My heart skips in my chest.

'Welcome to my mad house,' John is continuing. 'What can I offer you? Coffee? Tea? Have you had breakfast already?' And as another, younger, man walks into the kitchen from what must be the garden out back, 'Aha, and here's Mariusz. Mariusz, meet Elizabeth,' again with the glint of curiosity in his pale eyes before his good manners win out.

Mariusz grins at me, much less guarded than John.

'Elizabeth, very nice to meet you. Can I make you some tea or coffee?' his hand firm on mine.

We agree on coffee and I sit at the kitchen table while Mariusz fills up the machine and pulls mugs from the shelves. It's a bigger house than Rob's. Although only ten minutes' walk away, the neighbourhood feels much different. Grander. Inside, the house is a riot of colour, while outside, it's part of a graceful row of houses that look like the icing on a cake; all smooth white curves and curls.

I watch while Grace and Faith tumble around Rob, chattering at a frenetic pace, and appreciate the effort he makes to follow what they're saying, to keep up with their energetic flow. Faith is lighter haired than Grace. Very much the younger sister in the way she watches Grace so closely. Mariusz places a mug in front of me.

'They are little dynamos,' he says, and I catch his accent now. Russian; Polish, maybe?

'Right. It's so hard to keep up with them at that age. My niece and nephews are a similar age, and I don't know how my sister copes.'

'You do not have children yourself?'

I expel air in a kind of rush. 'Uh, no. No I don't. It's my sister who's had the kids in our family,' I add. Nervously. It's a jolt to realise I'm nervous, a little overwhelmed, sitting here in this big family house.

'I have a lot of nephews and nieces too,' Mariusz gives me a wide smile.

'Oh?'

'Four of each,' he widens his eyes.

It takes a couple more beats for us to both to relax enough that our grins break out wider and, a few beats more, into straight-out giggles.

'What's so funny over there?' Rob asks mildly, staring right into my eyes from across the table. Reminding me of why I'm here, which only serves to deepen the giggling.

My head and heart are swimming with so many thoughts and emotions I can hardly digest them. Here I am, sitting in a house in London surrounded by people I've only just met, Rob included, on a day I was supposed to be back home in Chicago, buying birthday cards and doing laundry and poking at the food left in my refrigerator to see how much of it might be edible or not.

Yet here I am, feeling a little tired and sore, but from the best possible causes -- memories of which keep flashing bright across my mind and hot down my spine. A wicked combination of incredulity and sheer joy is racing through my bloodstream and it's totally exhilarating and totally terrifying. I can't remember the last time I've felt this high. And with the way Rob keeps looking at me, there's no way I'm coming down any time soon.

I turn back to look at Mariusz, who's asked me something but I'm damned if I caught what. 'Excuse me?'

'Where in America do you live?'

'Oh, right. Chicago. I live in Chicago.'

He nods. 'I have an aunt and an uncle there, on my father's side of the family. Many Polish live there you know, although I have never visited.'

'Uh-huh, that's right. There's a big Polish community in the city. That's where you're from? Poland?'

'Yes.' He looks hesitant. 'I left there a long time ago but I think my accent is still strong. That's what people tell me, anyway.'

'How long ago?'

'I had to leave in 1986.'

I try to hide my surprise, as he's correct. I would've thought he was a recent arrival, sounding the way he does.

'Had to?'

'Yes. I was active in the opposition and there were rumours that we were about to be arrested, so I did a, uh, midnight flit. It was, you know, at the time of Solidarity. They had lifted martial law by then, but we were still living with tight restrictions and if the police were coming for you, you knew you were in serious trouble.'

'Oh. Wow.'

Again, more surprises. I thought he was much younger than that. And I guess he doesn't look like my idea of someone who's been on an arrest list either.

'Yes, a long time ago,' he ruminates, tipping the rest of his coffee into his mouth and swallowing.

'Do you get to go back now, though?'

'Oh no. No, I haven't been back since.'

'Not since 1986? But how old were you?'

I just can't help my bigass mouth sometimes, and have to hope I've not offended him by asking him his age outright. I'm relieved to see his smile doesn't dim.

'No, not since then. I was seventeen. Young and rebellious and a handful,' stressing that last word; delighting, I think, in the expression, in his ability to use it appropriately.

'But your family. What about your family? Didn't you want to go back to see them after the wall came down and all?'

He gives me a wry smile, and now I see his face is more worn, more lined, than I originally thought.

'My family didn't approve of the life I was choosing at that time, and the wall coming down wasn't going to change that.'

He shrugs, and I bite down on the inside of my mouth before it runs away with me again. Then, 'But your nieces and nephews?'

'Ah, yes. Six of them are here in England now. My sisters came here too, at different times. Settled here, I mean. And the other two children -- well, they are in Poland and I have never met them.'

'Oh, how sad.'

'They are my brother's children.'

He says this as though I will understand the significance of it, but I'm left wondering quite what he does mean. I'm debating with myself about asking more questions when I realise Rob and John appear to have concluded their conversation and I can somehow tell Rob is ready to leave. He'd come over here primarily to drop off some documents for John -- something legal - and now that's been accomplished, he's getting up out of his chair.

'Will I see you tonight, Mariusz?' I ask.

'Yes,' he smiles. 'Where they go, I go,' he gestures at Grace and Faith.

I find that statement a little curious, but then, I've been puzzled about Mariusz's status in this house since arriving, so I impress myself by managing to hold my tongue and not blast out more questions at him. And take the hand Rob offers, following him back up the stairs and out of the house.

+++

I pull away from the desk, shutting the laptop and rubbing at my eyes. Enough of work, I think to myself. It will keep until tomorrow. I'm not a heart surgeon, after all. No one is going to expire if I don't clear my inbox today. I've regretted having to spend any time on work at all today, but there were just a few unavoidably urgent emails to reply to, to keep various processes on track.

I sit for a few seconds longer, savouring the feeling of not being alone in this house. Of knowing that she is downstairs. Here, in my house. And then I get up and practically gallop down the stairs to find her.

She's curled up, as last night, on the sofa in the kitchen, looking as though she's already almost half way through the Carl Hiaasen book.

She puts it down as she looks up at me. 'Done?'

'Yes, for now. Sorry about that.'

'Don't be.'

'Can I get you anything? Tea or coffee or -- anything?'

'Oh, no thanks, I'm good.'

I nod. 'We'll have to get going soon. Think you're still up for it?'

'Sure. But come here a moment and give me some of your undivided attention before we do anything.'

Does she know what effect that has on me? I sit down next to her and force myself to be calm.

'Tell me more about you and John. You're friends from school, so you're the same age?'

'Yes, that's right.'

She doesn't reply

'We've known each other since we were about seven, or eight. Which means we've been friends for the best part of thirty-four years, give or take.' I squint. And recognise the look on Elizabeth's face. She wants more, so I carry on. 'He saved me, really. I wasn't very good at school. It was a competitive sort of place and that didn't suit me. And he was the same. Once he decided to befriend me, everything was alright, somehow. '

She nods again.

'And Mariusz? What is Mariusz in John's household?'

'Oh! Mariusz. He's sort of a live-in nanny. An unorthodox one, I suppose.'

'Nanny?'

'Well yes. He volunteers for the charity -- you know -- the thing tonight...' I make a vague gesture with my hand and she nods. 'He met John and the kids through that. Back in the weeks after Ginny had just died. He was recommended as someone Grace might relate to. She was very withdrawn for those first months and John was going out of his mind about it.'

I sit back, half-remembering, half-blocking that time; how bleak and impossible it had all seemed.

'Well, anyway, he worked really well for Grace, and it just seemed the next logical step that he'd move in with them. John had to go back to work and needed help with looking after the girls, etcetera. It's been over four years. Nearly five.' I pause, thinking. 'Longer than John and Ginny were married, in fact.'

When I look up, Elizabeth's expression is rather intense. I shrug.

'It seems to work out for everyone. And Mariusz has been very good for all of them.'

'Undoubtedly.'

I pause, waiting for the next incisive question, but it doesn't come. Instead, her eyes seem to lighten, and she gives me a small smile.

'Come on then, let's do this thing, Robbie.'

I nod. My childhood name seems to have amused her no end. So be it.

+++

I watch his face as he talks about John and his family. And think back to all the photographs artfully arranged along the walls down that curving staircase, tracing the short span from marriage to Ginny's death; the later additions where only Grace or Faith have been captured in the lens. To the three pictures of the wedding itself. Younger versions of Rob and John; that limber, willowyness that we all seem to lose as we age. A stark moment captured by a skilled photographer, everyone believing they were recording the beginning of something wonderful. The blind confidence in a future uncomplicated by grief and death; laughing blue eyes staring it down. Daring it. And, wow, did that future have something terrible in store for them.