Shards of Glass

"I'm sorry, Scarlett."

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When I was next aware of myself and my surroundings, I was in a hospital. I remembered glimpses of what I had been through, but it was like remembering a nightmare. I would not believe I had actually been through it, had I not the cuts and bruises and the absolutely horrific aching pain searing deep into my bones.

My right leg was in a cast, and over the next few days I was kept in the hospital for the doctors to watch over me, due to the head injuries I had received. I had one particularly bad cut on the back of my head where I had fallen to the concrete. Overall though, the doctors told me I was lucky, and I didn't seem to have suffered any long lasting effects, and I was free to go provided I rested my leg for a few weeks.

I got out of the uber that dropped me back home, only to stop when I saw Scarlett's store. It looked like a hollow shell, a jagged wound. The glass windows were completely smashed, and the insides were dim, lit only by the muted reflections of grey daylight off countless shards of glass. Then I noticed Scarlett, sitting near the back, next to a discarded broom. She had her legs drawn up, arms wrapped around them, and she was crying amidst the wreckage. I made my way over to her, stepping carefully over the shattered glass.

"Scarlett?"

As I drew close, I could see just how much she had been crying. Her face was puffy and swollen, and her eyes rimmed red. She looked up at me, and it was as though she didn't fully comprehend what she was seeing at first.

"Who...Tim?" Her voice was so small, so broken.

"Yeah, its me. You...don't recognise me?"

"Tim?!" Suddenly she was crying again, and her body wracked as she heaved for air. I found myself crouching down beside her, unsure of what to do, then pulling her into my chest. She clung to me, and the tears flowed out from her and onto me, and I wished I could take her pain too.

Eventually, Scarlett stilled within my arms. I waited, not ending the embrace until she was ready. She looked up at me, and I felt her hand on my chin, and I looked down to see her examining the shabby facial hair I had grown. Suddenly I felt self-conscious. She hadn't seen me for almost a year, and I had not taken care of myself in that time. She met my gaze as she removed her hand.

"I thought you moved away, Tim. I hadn't seen you so long, or Sadie," The mention of Sadie brought a twinge of pain to me, but somehow it didn't matter so much when I was looking into Scarlett's eyes. "I thought you guys had just gone and left me behind."

I shook my head.

"I was here...I just...I..." I trailed off. She just kept her eyes on mine, not rushing me, not pressuring, just waiting. "I have not been well, Scarlett. I'm sorry." My voice broke on that final word. It hurt so much to acknowledge myself, how I had been feeling, how it affected others.

She studied me, brow wrinkling, then began to tear up again.

"When they told me that my neighbour got hurt trying to stop them...when I heard it was you...you shouldn't have done that for me, Tim. I never wanted you to get hurt for me." I had never heard her sound so sorrowful. I shook my head at her, tearing up myself.

"That was the first thing I was happy to do in months, Scarlett." A tear dropped from my eye onto her cheek, but she did not flinch. "I'm just sorry I couldn't do more."

We stayed there for some time, reassuring each other, with our eyes, with our words, with our touch. Then, I went up to my flat to grab another broom, and I came back down to help her clean up, waving away her protestations, insisting I could move just fine in my cast. Eventually, I allowed myself to stop and rest, leaning on the wall and chatting to Scarlett as she continued the cleanup.

Time carried on, and me and Scarlett hung out every day. I helped her with her insurance (meaning I really did get beat up for nothing). I helped her with her store. I helped her by just being near her. Once my cast came off, I cleaned up my flat so she could come up and hang out with me, so we could make plans for how to get her back on her feet. It was hard not to feel ashamed as I lugged months' worth of rubbish down the stairs. I felt embarrassed that Scarlett was there, watching me from within her store as she oversaw renovations. She offered to help but I just couldn't accept it. She nagged me until I let her drag me to a barber to clean up my looks. I remember sitting in that barber's chair, watching her preen and gloat in the mirror at finally bending me to her will. It was hard not to laugh, and I saw her eyes shining as she met mine in the reflection.

Scarlett told me about how important the store was for her. Her family had been cruel to her, and it represented freedom. Freedom from her family, from a boss, from anyone. To her, the jewellery store was a shield, a barrier between her and the sad childhood she had left behind. Her focus on materialism was simply a manifestation of her desire to separate herself from her origins. She told me that she allowed herself to sink into the delusion that by catering to a different class than her family, she herself achieved some distance from that trauma.

I began looking for remote work, finally ready to ease my way back into the world. I wanted to be earning again so I could help support Scarlett. She was struggling, even with her insurance coming through, as most of that went on getting her store back up and running, and until then she had no income. I helped her however I could, and she let me in, asking me for my thoughts on the renovations, her stock, everything. The resurrecting store became our place.

One day, me and Scarlett were hanging out in our local coffee shop, her on her phone, me on my laptop job searching, when she suddenly plopped her phone face down on her lap and asked me a question.

"Tim? What happened with you and Sadie?"

I froze, then mentally chastised myself for doing so. Now I couldn't just brush it off as though it was nothing.

I looked at Scarlett, and I guess something about her expression told me I was safe, safe to share, safe from the pain. So I told her the truth.

"Sadie broke up with me. Valentine's Day. I didn't see it coming."

"Why?"

"She said she didn't want to settle down yet. She was feeling...limited, and wanted to see what else was out there." It still hurt. But I could bear that pain with Scarlett. She frowned.

"What? That's it?" I nodded. "What a bitch!"

"Scarlett!" I couldn't help it. I started giggling.

"What? I mean it! Who the fuck dumps someone like that on Valentine's Day, with no warning whatsoever? She never even mentioned anything to me about having doubts." Somehow, hearing that lifted some burden from my soul. Maybe it really wasn't my fault. Maybe it wasn't about me at all.

"Well, I appreciate the support. But yeah. I didn't take it well. I retreated into myself for a long time. Hence the homeless look, and the never going out." I shrugged.

Scarlett nodded.

"That's understandable." She smiled. "Plus, you pulled off the hobo look really well."

"Then why'd you make me get rid of it?!" I exclaimed in mock outrage.

Scarlett laughed.

"I couldn't reconcile my ego with being attracted to a hobo."

My laughter broke off into silence, and there she was, eyebrow raised, watching me like she did back on that first day I met her.

"I...see..."

I saw her expression falter, and she began to apologise.

"I've made it weird, haven't I? I'm sorry T- "

I waved her apology away.

"It's not that. I mean, I've always been very attracted to you." I could feel myself start blushing as I admitted that. "It's just that...I think I need to process things. I still feel...weird...after Sadie, and I think it's only this last month or so that we've been hanging out that I've actually begun to process what happened."

Scarlett still looked concerned, but she nodded her head slowly anyway.

"So...we are cool?"

I nodded, and reached out to place my hand on her knee as I looked at her. Her eyes widened, and I felt my own pulse race a bit.

"Yeah. We're cool."

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We were on a walk, one winter evening around the turn of the year, when I asked Scarlett something that had been bothering me for some time.

"Hey Scar?"

She looked across at me. We had taken to holding hands while out on these walks. I wasn't sure who started it, but I didn't stop it. It felt comforting to me, and it soothed my hunger for intimacy for the time being. I didn't feel ready for anything more. She squeezed my hand with her mittened one.

"Yeah?"

"I was wondering...when those guys broke in to your store, how did they get through the metal security doors? It's a bit of a blur to me, but it wasn't down, that much I remember."

Scarlett stiffened, and I felt her hand clench mine harder.

"The guys who robbed me...it was my ex. He swiped my key for the security doors. Left me in the middle of the night and went there, to the store, to rob me blind."

"What? And you're only just mentioning this now?! Did you tell the police?"

I could see pain on her face as she looked anywhere but at me. She let my hand go and begun wringing hers.

"I didn't want you to see me as any more of a victim than I already was."

I gestured between us.

"But don't you think it's important for me to know you were just betrayed by your last partner, giving what...we are doing? I mean, isn't that traumatic? You've not mentioned it once!" I couldn't help the incredulity in my voice, nor the accompanying rise in volume.

She looked at me pleadingly.

"I'm okay about it, I swear. Yes, it sucked. Yes, it hurt. My store is everything to me. But I know he was scum, I know it wasn't my fault. All I have to do is make sure I pick a better guy next time."

She turned fully to me and this time she had no problems meeting my gaze, her own hardening.

"Don't project the trauma from your relationship onto me. I am okay, in that regard at least. And what is it we are doing anyway? Holding hands, talking, flirting, but never going beyond that? I want more, Tim."

That stopped me in my tracks. She was right, I had been projecting my own issues from the fallout of my breakup onto her. And it was stupid of me to claim any 'ownership' over her or what she shared given my own hesitance to let her in. It was my turn to avoid her gaze.

In all my time spent alone, withdrawn, I hadn't been able to face the simple choice of getting up each day and living. That night, when I had tried to intervene on Scarlett's behalf against the men -- her ex -- robbing her store, I had made an active choice for the first time in forever. I chose to confront those men, because of her. Because I cared about her. Afterwards, I chose to stay near her, to support her and to come out of my shell, because I cared about her. Now, I had to learn to choose to love her, to let her love me. It was so hard, I felt so scared of being rejected again and cast aside, but I knew now that making these choices was a part of living. I had to keep taking the next step, to choose life over simply waiting to die. I had to choose Scarlett.

"I...need more time, Scarlett. I'm sorry for projecting. I'm sorry for making you wait. But...please wait for me?" I met her gaze again, and I saw it soften slightly.

I continued.

"I want to be with you, I do. I just want to make sure that I'm not going to screw it up by...well by doing things like this. I care about you, Scar. You are what living means to me. I couldn't bear it if I blew our chance by letting my trauma fuck with my head. I couldn't bear it if I hurt you."

Her eyes had transitioned fully now from a hard glare to the vulnerable woman I knew dwelt just beneath the surface. I loved that she let me in, let me see this side of her.

"I will wait for you, Tim. I care about you too. Just...please don't make me wait too long? I'm getting real 'antsy' if you know what I mean?"

I started laughing, and she joined in, and amidst the giggles and her telling me to shut up, we ended up in each other's arms, heart to heart. I felt her shaking slightly, and knew I was shaking too, and it wasn't from the cold.

"We're really doing this, aren't we?" She whispered. "This is happening?"

"This is happening." I replied. I could feel her body against me, the curves she flaunted, that I coveted. Her breasts were pressed right up against me, and I pulled away as I started to respond to that.

"Let's keep walking."

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I managed to find a job early that January, and I used the money to book myself into therapy. I found a good therapist, and over those early sessions she drilled into me that I shouldn't deny myself happiness in the present because of the heartbreak in my past. They pushed me to pursue Scarlett more, telling me that they could tell how deeply I cared for her simply based on how mentioning her brought me out of any haze of self-loathing. I battled with my therapist, arguing that it was unhealthy to be so dependent on another person, that I needed to make sure I was in a better place before chasing a proper relationship. I didn't win many of the arguments.

So it was that I arranged to spend Valentine's Day with Scarlett. The significance of that wasn't lost on her, and she seemed to have an extra spring in her step for the week leading up to it. Not that she put any pressure on me. Rather, I think it was the fact that I felt comfortable enough, on the anniversary of my breakdown, to choose to be with her and focus on her, that made her happy. She had fun teasing me, brushing up against me whenever we were together, indulging in eye contact, flirting with everything at her disposal. I didn't push her away either, instead enjoying the feeling, finding the joy in acting like two lovestruck teenagers again. I made no attempts to hide my glances, running my eyes over every inch of her that whole week. She delighted in the attention, and began surreptitiously bending over in front of me in public, always finding some obscure reason to flaunt her massive ass, presenting herself to me over and over again. In truth, I found it harder and harder to keep my hands to myself as Valentine's Day approached, but I managed it.

Eventually, Valentine's Day came around. I strolled casually into Scarlett's store, ignoring the 'closed' sign, acting for all the world as if I were there to purchase something. And I was.

Scarlett stood behind the counter, and I noted she wore the dress I had first seen her in, all seductive curves, straining against the material.

Scarlett watched me studying the newly refurbished displays with amusement, trademark eyebrow raised, content to play out my little game. I flitted from one display to another, not settling until I came upon the rings. The somewhat affordable rings. I wasn't made of money.

"Say, miss? How abouts you help me pick out a little something for a special lady of mine?" I drawled.

"Tim, what the fuck are you doing?"

We burst out laughing. When I recovered my composure, I continued.

"I'm serious, Scarlett. I want to get you a ring. Not because I'm proposing, not yet at least, but because I want to mark my commitment to you today, my intention to...well...love you."

Scarlett paled slightly, and stammered.

"L-love? Are you saying what I think you're saying?"

I smiled.

"I am. I love you, Scarlett. It just...took me a while to let myself, I guess." My confession brought with it a sense of completion. Warmth flowed through channels previously clogged by pain and misery, and I felt lightened.

She stood still, then suddenly looked down shyly, glancing up at me through her eyelashes.

"I love you too, Tim." She said, softly, gently, caressing each word with the tenderness with which a person might handle a baby bird.

I had expected it, but the words set my heart to pounding anyway. In a weird way, our feelings brought about a role reversal, with me full of pride and Scarlett bashful. I really didn't expect her to be this shy about this.

"Also, I want that ring." I pointed at one near the back, braided gold, unadorned.

"You know what you want to get me?!" Somehow that got a bigger reaction than our mutual confession. Oh well.

Scarlett rushed up next to me, not even trying to be subtle as she brushed her breasts against me on her way by and bent over to 'examine' my choice, pressing her prodigious ass into me, dress straining to contain it.

"Scarlett?" She turned around, standing demurely before me, something in my tone alerting her to the seriousness of my intention.

"Are you going to let me love you? This isn't a game, or a joke between us, it is serious. I am ready, now."

I reached out and cupped her face, and she closed her eyes and leant her cheek into my palm.

"I know, Tim. I'm not playing either. I love you. I'm yours. It's that simple."

I tilted her chin up towards me, and she opened her eyes as I leant in, then closed them again as our lips met.

She gasped against me, then opened her mouth hungrily, grabbing my face and drawing me in. Her tongue pushed through my lips, and began lashing against mine. It was as though all the longing and waiting and frustration was pouring out of her now in one furious surge. Scarlett pushed herself up against me, breasts squished against my chest, and she moaned into my mouth shamelessly as I reached down to squeeze her ass.

I couldn't believe I was finally getting to touch her like this, to feel the heavy weight of each ass cheek, the way they bounced and jiggled in my hands as we pawed at each other in a tempest of lust. Eventually, Scarlett drew back, panting, spit dripping down from one side of her mouth.

"I want you to fuck me, Tim. I've had enough waiting. I've been perpetually wet for you for like three months now, and now I'm throbbing, and aching, and you're driving me crazy, and I need you inside me, now. I'm yours."

I smiled, then gestured out the door.

"Lead the way, lover."

I smacked her ass as she passed me, eliciting another moan from her, then followed her up to my flat.

Once we were upstairs, I led her to my bedroom. It was a simple affair, I had kept it decluttered since my mass cleanup a few months ago. I went over and sat on the bed, patting the spot next to me.

Again, Scarlett seemed to revert to this new, shyer side I had started seeing of her, standing awkwardly in front of me, her hands wringing each other.

"Scar? Why are you so shy all of a sudden?"

She blushed.

"It's just that...well...I don't know! This feels so different, you feel so different to all the other men I've dated, it makes me flustered, I guess? I'm suddenly nervous, and wondering if you'll actually like me, like my body, and I've never doubted myself like that before, ever!" It flowed out of her in one big rush, and I pulled her in to sit on my lap.

I began stroking her back, soothing her, as I reassured her.

"I don't think I remember ever being as attracted to anyone as I am to you, Scarlett. You remember, when we first met? I was so attracted to you it physically stunned me. I had to avoid you for like two years because I was so embarrassed. And don't think I didn't notice that you are wearing the same dress now as the day we met."

She blushed again, but had the confidence to meet my eyes this time.

"I guess I'm aware -- have always been aware -- of the effect I have on you." She wriggled her ass on my lap to punctuate her words, feeling my erection pressing up into her. She let out a little sigh. I took a long, shuddering breath.