She chanced a look at him, the idea that she couldn’t’ make him feel good, crushing her. She wanted to give him pleasure non-stop to make up for all lost time. Wasted on her foolishness.
“I want…to make you feel good.”
Her lips parted with a gasp of surprise at his words while her heart jackhammered. She stared, caught in his blue gaze that burned with things she’d never seen before. “You…you can’t…”
“But you can,” he whispered.
She could? What did he mean? She could what? Did he want her to…masturbate? Surely not, they didn't even believe in that.
“What…do you want me to do?”
“I want to touch you. The way…you want me to.”
Her breaths turned erratic at the idea. “Okay,” she whispered.
“Can you…show me what…or tell me?”
Her mind filled with an array of scenarios, none of them very practical in the moment with his condition. “Do you want me…to right now?”
“Yes.”
The urgency in his tone reminded her of the end of them and how quickly they careened toward it. She darted a glance at the door. “I should…lock it.” She looked back to him. “The door.”
“Yes.”
His gentle confidence should have soothed her, comforted her. Aroused her even. But as she went to the door and locked it, she could only feel sick about everything. That he would want to make her feel good. Would want to do anything at all for her while he was in this condition, after knowing she’d deliberately…
“Cheryl.”
She hurried back to the bed, standing at the foot of it. What if whatever they did hurt him more? Made his disease speed up somehow?
“Tell me what you’ve always wanted from me.”
She tried with all her might to look at him but didn’t make it past his chest. Her words were trapped in her head. She opened her mouth, praying all her stupid desires would just come and speak for themselves.
“Take your time. You don’t need to hurry.”
His gentleness burned her down to her soul. Without her self-created lie about him, she had nothing to block her view of his pure love and devotion to her. He’d always been this and she’d…not even gotten to enjoy it because of the lie she believed about him.
“Why are you crying, honey?” he whispered, sounding tormented.
“Because…I’m…I’m stupid, that’s why,” she gasped, wiping her face.
“I’m so sorry.”
She snapped her gaze to him, angry and bitter. “Why? Why should you be sorry for anything? I’m the one who did this to myself, not you.”
“I should have seen this,” he said, without a doubt.
“No Ben, I should have been honest. I should have said something besides lies.”
“What would you have told me?” he asked.
He was giving her a do over. She nodded, seeing his angle, understanding it even. He was so clever. What would she have told him? Her shoulders raised as she came up empty. She presented clueless brows to him next. “I have no idea. I seem to only know how to lie when it doesn’t serve a good purpose. You know,” she laughed dryly, wiping her tears. “I’m a sadistic bitch.” She shook her head, realizing it. “Of all the times I should’ve lied, now would’ve been the right time. But no,” she quipped, fighting back sobs. “Here you are dying, and I have to go and break your heart too, oh my God, I’m Satan,” she strained, letting go of the sobs and covering her face.
Silence stretched until she felt like a criminal on trial. Guilty before a righteous judge. A hard-working husband, caring father, doting husband to a wife he thought had female issues and went out of his way to make her feel loved even though he couldn’t have sex with her
“Can I ask you a question?” he asked.
Sudden dread speared her stomach. She could only nod. Looking at him was too hard.
“Did you enjoy sex with me…when we had sex?”
“Oh God,” she whispered, gasping in horror that she’d let the words slip out. Why that question? She could lie. She should lie.
“Wow,” he whispered.
She covered her mouth with a hand, hating herself more. She’d taken too long! Her opportunity to lie and protect him was gone!
“No, don’t cry. That’s not on you. But damn…you really fooled me.”
“Because I’m a liar,” she gushed bitterly.
“I should’ve asked sooner.”
“Why?” she gasped, fighting to breathe. “I would’ve only lied.”
He finally raised his blue eyes to hers.
“Why would you lie?”
She stood there at the foot of the bed, considering that while holding her mouth shut tight to keep it from shaking. With every passing second, the lack of answer brought her closer to a breakdown. Just answer the question. Why? Why did you lie? “I didn’t want you to think…there was something wrong with you. Or me,” she realized.
“Did you tell anybody?” he asked.
“Tell them what?” she wondered, crossing her arms over her stomach while mentally tracing the flower prints on the bed with her eyes.
“About…your problem? Our problem, my problem? Sex problems?”
She shook her head, back to having to hold her mouth shut tight as the years of solitude on the subject pressed into her chest. It was one thing to live through it daily, but to reflect back required you to feel that hell in a collective way.
“Not your sister? Your mother?”
She could only shake her head, wiping her eyes.
“Did you…ever feel good?”
She was down to tapping her foot on the floor and holding her waist tighter. “What do you mean?”
“Sexually?”
What did he mean, ever? “What do you mean by ever?” she hated to ask but had to.
“Have you ever felt good sexually…in all your life…before or during our marriage?”
“Why does before matter?” She didn’t get it. “I mean…I masturbated once but then stopped when I learned it was wrong.”
“What…did you masturbate with?”
The slight wonder or curiosity made her swallow and chew at her lower lip while confused about his question. “Myself?” She dug her thumb nail dug in the clear finish of the bed post.
“But…I mean how?”
How? What answer was he wanting? “With…my fingers? I stopped--”
“I’ve masturbated too. As a young man.”
Her heart raced as her mind imagined him doing that. Immediately she grew wet between her legs. She wasn’t sure what to say to that, so she only barely nodded, with a delicate “Okay,” so he knew she didn’t judge him while also hoping he offered her the same mercy.
“But you were a virgin,” she said, not sure why she did.
“Yes. And you.”
She nodded, chancing a look at him. “You regret that?” she suddenly wondered, unable to raise her guilty gaze. Guilty with what she had no idea, just generally guilty all around.
“Never.”
She nodded a little. “Me neither.”
Was almost like she could feel the years of lies sitting there in their bedroom like grinning demons, enjoying the aftermath of their work. They’d stole so much. The best of what they had even if she hadn’t known they had it. Was she really going to let them steal more? At this hour in their life?