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Spoiler
Dreams haunted her. They weren't nightmares, they were happy dreams. Why did they haunt her? Because she had a sneaking suspicion that dreams about relationships always meant the opposite. They were happy, in this dream world. She no longer cared about their weight and was happy to have a little bit of time alone while he worked, because, in the end, he wanted to come home to her. He wanted to be with her. They stood in a park, one she hadn't been to since their first few months. They had played in that park; she barely remembered it to be honest. The creaky twin set of swings. The small roofed slide and the lone monkey bars. The rest was field, pocketed with puddles of mud. Surrounded by blackberry bushes and weeds, a path weaving off to the ditch on the other side of the overgrown berries, another to the cul-de-sac it was based off of. They were happy, it was winter. She was bundled, and her breathe raced out in happy puffs like some insanely joyful smoke machine. He giggled along with her. The kind a man makes when he's too happy to care what he sounds like. She hadn't heard that laugh in a long time. IT rang unknown to her subconscious ears. She vaguely remembered it, like the laugh was a dream from far ago. Something that never really happened, but it felt like it did. So distant and vivid that it had become a memory itself, not a memory of a dream. They stood with the snow blowing around them; she was smiling up at him. The world feeling like a greeting card. It was dark; there were dangers outside their blackberry enclosed park. But for right now, it was their world. She ran from him, slowly loping, and then speeding up as he gave chase to her. Soft snowballs were half-hazardly thrown back and foreth. Lara launched herself onto the swing so her stomach rested on the seat. Her arms flew out like she was flying and her heart felt like how it did when she was a child, when dreams came true and love made you happy all over. Her descent came quickly with her hair flying in front of her until her feet touched the snow again and she spinning and running like her heart. And there he was, John, smiling at her like the world was held in her eyes. Like he could spend forever loving her. The look spoke the same volumes her heart did.
"Lara?" John asked, the smile fading from his face. "Lara, I'm home."
And suddenly it wasn't a dream. Suddenly her heart felt all the pains again, like the drug had worn off too quickly and she felt all the bruises from her fall much too vividly. "Yes." Her voice was calm; even she didn't know she could hide her wildly beating heart so well. It was a dream. And dreams were backwards for relationships. They weren't happy. And the world didn't live in her eyes, not for John. She opened her eyes, to stare at the alarm clock. She shut them immediately to avoid the shocking light that cascaded from the closet. She hissed and let her eyes adjust, slowly. "What time is it?" She would find out soon enough, but she always hoped that when he said it, it would be earlier then it actually was, and somehow that lie would be reality.
"Two."
Her eyes moved from the clock, which mimicked his count. They closed as disappointment and regret washed through her. Would there be a time when that many hours was too many to spend away from her, had that time come and passed? "Oh." What could she say, what could she do? She could yell? But he never listened. She could cry? He would feel horrible, but nothing would change, all that would come of it would be a sense of responsibility and guilt for him and swollen tired eyes for her. She could ignore him, pretend he hadn't even come home, pretend that there was nobody coming home? That just depressed her, and again, it solved nothing. "I don't know what to say." The truth was easiest.
"Me neither." He stared at her, apology coming, she recognized the signs: the scrunched set of his eyebrows, the pout on his lips, and the glistening of his eyes. He couldn't cry, but those eyes sure glistened! "I'm sorry."
Sorry? Was he really? "Are you really?" does he know all he has to be sorry about? "And what are you sorry for?" abandoning me? Making me feel worthless? Picking that bitch over me? Ok it wasn't logical, but it felt that way! "What are you sorry for?" she asked again, desperate to have an answer to the questions circling her brain. Was he sorry for the lack of love in our relationship? The fact that our relationship is going nowhere? The loneliness I feel everyday? Are you sorry for that? "Are you sorry for my broken heart or the tears that land on my pillow?" Great she was getting poetic and melodramatic! "Or how about being sorry for my dreams of our future, my future, that have gone up in smoke?" Maybe sorry for the fact that the only real love life she had was, in fact, in her dreams! "What are you sorry for John? Please, tell me!" Her anger and hurt was spewed at her reflection. They now sat back facing back on the bed, the embarrassment that she couldn't control the anger , that she couldn't welcome him home without hating him for being gone.
"Everything." His head was downcast. She knew guilt weighed heavily on him, and felt her own heart give just a little. She felt the guilt at having him feel it. She had never known what her mother meant when she got a spanking, IT hurts me more then it hurts you. She hated that, but even though she didn't have kids, she still understood it.
"Look, it's not all your fault, you just... don't think" Excuses she was good at, she'd be dreaming them up for him for a while now.
"No, your right. I am horrible to you. You want me to quit the job?" He asked his eyes angry at asking her, his face sad with the guilt he felt.
Yes! "No, you like the job, you should keep it." A cross roads. He quit the job and hated her, just like he hated her for moving back to this town. If he didn't, shed continue to feel this way.
He sighed; sighs were their main source of communication. They told her just how he was feeling, the pressure, loudness and strength told her what he was thinking, because he would never tell her.
"I need a smoke." Her lungs were begging for the epic slow death that smoking brought.
"Do what you need to." it was his favorite answer. Don't take responsibility for not being supportive, just let her fail. Lara flinched when she heard it just as she had the hundreds of other times he told her the same damn thing. She felt what he said was that he didn't care. He used to support her, now it didn't matter to him.
"I'm done fighting tonight." She said. She fell back onto the bed and turned the light switch off. The darkness didn't even envelope her, the moon and the corner store lit their room enough. She could see his face if she was to roll over, clearly see the emotion, or lack thereof, etched across his face. She heard him sigh; felt the bed shift as he placed himself in sleeping position, then heard his breathing soften into sleep. How easy it was for him, to turn his brain off and stop seeing that her future was slowly disappearing. He didn't visualize that. And honestly she was tired of trying to imagine what went on in his head.
Her eyes were moving rapidly. She felt like one of those women in the movies. The ones when their having an intense moment of an about to kiss romantic scene, so close they cant actually look at the persons eyes with one look, they have to switch back and foreth between eyes. It always seemed like they were portraying some sort of urgency with those rapidly moving eyes. John and she had tried it once, joking around. Neither one of theirs eyes could move so fast. Did actors practice it? She felt that, but she was just trying to avoid the tears that were stinging her eyes. Running around as if the movement would put the tears back. She was lost, just like; she felt, their relationship and love.
"Love you" She whispered to the window.
"You too." he responded sleepily.
She woke with the sun glaring at her. Lara grunted and attempted to roll away from the heat and light, but was stopped by John, a squishy wall with really bad morning breath. Her brain would not go back to the world of sleep so she let her body work slowly towards the conscious world. The thing about the very first moments of being awake was that they were happy. Especially weekend mornings, when you could take your time stretching and yawning and cuddling into your pillow. Most people have this moment of utter content for a couple seconds before the reality of whatever is causing them negativity comes, crushing their sleepy parade. Lara had just experiences those first happy seconds and now, with a blast of rotten tooth bad breath, she was pushed into her pathetic realty. She sighed, almost able to see the happy waft away from her.
Weekend mornings were usually like this for her. For months now the weekends were bitter sweet. It was nice to relax and not have to work, but bittersweet as John usually did. Their day plans were constantly short lived. Revolving around his working schedule. No time was ever really enjoyed, it was rushed, in some sort of insane shot at logic it was thought that the more they accomplished the better they would feel. Lara knew the case was wrong. A month ago they had experienced a weekend of joy. It was lazing around the house doing nothing but cuddling and watching movies. The things they needed to get done they didn't do, but they had loved that weekend and enjoyed each others company. Weekends like those don't happen anymore. She had been so optimistic that it would become a trend, maybe not doing the same thing but experiencing the same feelings. And Lara was so disappointed when that didn't happen. Preparing herself for another futile weekend, Lara pushed herself into a sitting position and eyed the cat that immediately stole her warm spot. She got up and attempted to waddle towards the bathroom. Waddling is a favored weekend morning walk; it was unfortunately interrupted by the kittens that were suicidally darting between her feet. Oh how she longed for them to grow up and realize that they were nocturnal animals that they could play while she was asleep!
She should make breakfast, should she not? She was kind of hungry, in the way that she could feel her stomach grumbling but couldn't work up the initiative to make something, grab something, or care. She'd survive for a bit, before John woke up and decided to eat. As she sat on the toilet, with cats alternating between playing in the bathtub, crawling up her legs to get at the sink, and staring up at her demanding attention as she thought of the nights argument. They day after she always felt like an idiot. That she shouldn't care and should let it roll off of her. She forgot to finish the job and just keep sitting there, staring at the door that separated closet from bathroom. What was last night about? After a nights sleep it seemed ridiculous that she couldn't play his game back. Play his game sounded wrong. But why couldn't she find things to do at inconvenient times for him? Why couldn't she suddenly have plans during his days off? Because she was desperate to spend time with him, that's why! Lara sighed and finished her morning pee, washing her hands she tried to think of what to do next. Should she wake him up and continue the fight? Take the car and go for a drive? Take the bike and go for a ride? Disappear so that he somehow wakes up alone and misses her so much that by the time she returns he loves her more then he did when they were happy? Lara decided on nothing. She crawled back into bed, shifted the quilt to cover his mouth and tried to find happiness.
When she woke again she could feel John against her back. Holding her in the way most men will when their asleep. It's not really holding. It's more of a draping his arm across her. Her butt was curled nicely along the one piece of anatomy that always stayed the same for her. He grew as she stretch and wiggle closer. His arm waking enough to tighten around her in possession. Lara wiggled free to turn and lay her head on his chest, wrap her leg over his hips and settle in closer.
She could hear his heart beat quicken under her ear as she trailed her nails along his skin. She would wake him up slowly and hopefully their argument from before would dwindle into oblivion. He would wake up damn happy- of course now that she thought of it, he seemed pretty happy now. Lara allowed her finger tips to drift lower, switching to caress his thighs; she ran a finger over his length and felt it jump in response. His heart beat has accelerated and his body was suddenly awake beside her. No longer in sleep his hand started massaging the shoulder that was closest.
Lara felt her body respond to the strong touch on her shoulder, combined with the smooth skin under her hand. She felt her lower body tighten. She moved her head to kiss the corner of his mouth when he nuzzled her hair. He moved and she moved as their lips collided. She couldn't taste bad breath. So she was happy to play tag with his tongue. She rubbed her body closer to his. Sighing with pleasure as his strong hands caressed her outer thigh. She hooked her leg more tightly over his hip as their centers moved closer to touch. Lara let her head fall back as John licked his way down to her breasts. She could now smell the breath on the spit that clung to her skin, but she closed her eyes and concentrated on the sensations happening to her body.
John ran his hand up her knee, thigh, and up to her hips so he could grab hold of her and rub himself against her. Lara let out a moaning sigh as her body pulsed at the touch of him on her most sensitive parts. Lara felt her insides tense and rolled so she straddled him. She bent to rub her breasts up against his chest as she nibbled on his ear. Giving his hands unrestricted access to her bottom. She slid upwards in a move so silky her yoga videos would be proud. Slowly Lara lowered herself onto his tip. Moving her body, slightly, up and down till she could fit all of him in her with no resistance. It was easy for her to fall back into their rhythm; she was smooth and sultry in the rolls of her hips as if Latin dance had been her first language. She felt him moan against her breast as she bent forward to tease him by not allowing access. Only when his strong hands gripped her hips to pull her down onto him, did she give. A moan curled up her through as John led her hips in the wild frenzy he wanted. Her hands pushed at the wall while trying to grip it like she would his back. Release was coming, she felt it as her back arched. She let it ride her body, radiating from their connection. Her body tightened, stretching and squeezing as she moaned "oh yes" again and again until the pleasure waned. John followed her quickly. The tightening of her body around him too much to bear. He gripped her hips pushing her to finish him. Moving her body to take all of him, pressing her down so the rubbing of their bodies sent pulses to her already engorged flesh. Her body spasming around him as his own search for release thrust more pleasure at her. He moaned into her chest as he came with her tight around him from another sensory overload.
Slowly they landed back on earth as the waves of ecstasy slowed and eventually wavered away. Lara felt the final weak pulses of him in her before she curled her hips below her and rolled off of him.
