Mountains Wanted (15 page)

After dessert, Pawel
guided her, wine glasses in hand, to the living room where they continued their
discussion about evolutionary biology and whether or not humans were designed
to be monogamous. An eavesdropper would have picked up on words such as
“Darwin,” “bonobos,” and phrases such as “anthropologically speaking.” Suddenly,
Pawel reached out and stroked Sarah’s cheek with his long, elegant fingers.

A smile spread across
her face, and she looked down for a moment at how their bodies were positioned
increasingly closer and then back up into his deep brown eyes. Without another
word, his lips found hers and he pulled her into his arms so that she was
stretched across his body, his hands stroking down her back and to the curve at
her hip. He stood and lifted her to her feet, which were bare since she’d
kicked off her heels after retiring to the living room earlier in the evening. She
was feeling light and glowing, enveloped in a wine-saturated aura. He led
her down the hallway and spun her around to face him again as they stood beside
his four poster cherry bed.  

He kissed her neck and
his lips lingered around her collarbone, sending a shiver down her spine. He
unzipped the back of her dress and slowly, sensuously slipped it off her
shoulders until it slid down her body to the carpet below. She stood in
only her black lace bra and matching panties, the dark fabric contrasting with
her creamy ivory skin, her dark wavy hair cascading across her back, reaching just
past her shoulder blades.  

He caressed her
shoulders and down her arm so reverently that her body lightly quaked under his
touch. “My god, Sarah,” he whispered, admiring her nearly nude form before him,
“you are a goddess.” He reached behind her to unfasten her bra and gently
stripped it away, watching her round, full breasts succumb to gravity and fall
to rest on her ribcage. He tenderly took her rose-colored nipple into his
mouth, teasing it with his tongue and feeling it grow hard between his lips.
 

Sarah sighed as she felt
the electricity race through her body. She started to unbutton his shirt to
reveal his sleek, wiry body, his nearly hairless chest save for a trail leading
down to what was still covered by his jeans. She deftly unbuckled his belt,
unfastened the button and slid the zipper down, releasing the fabric so that
the pants fell down his hips and thighs. He stepped out of them and stood
pressed against her, her soft supple flesh contrasting against his lean frame,
the thinnest of material segregating their respective sexes.

He coaxed her down upon
the bed and kissed her again on the mouth and then planted kisses on each
breast before moving down her body to nibble at bit at the roundness near her
navel. He traced her hips again and hooked his fingers under the black lace
panties to slide them down her thighs. Now his eyes feasted upon her totally
unencumbered form stretched out before him. He gently parted her legs and
paused to breathe in the scent of her, the scent of a wanton woman. He
groaned at the effect of it filling his nostrils, as if he was overcome with desire
and was compelled to delve into her sex with his tongue.

Foreplay with Pawel was
just as Sarah expected it to be: deliberate, slow, tender and thorough. Sarah
was quite sure not an inch of her flesh had been missed by his lips when
finally, finally he slid his cock deep inside her. He was so long, he very
easily struck her cervix with the first stroke and Sarah gasped in shock at
sensation of welcome intrusion. He thrusted more shallowly, letting her
get used to his size and to open to accommodate his considerable length.

 
Surprisingly after the long, slow foreplay,
Pawel was quite the opposite now that he began to fuck her. Once he felt
assured that Sarah was ready, his speed intensified and he lifted her legs and
pushed them toward her head, thrusting so deep that she cried out with every
stroke. She wasn’t sure how long she could handle the sensation, it was right
on the fine line between pleasure and pain. Fortunately, Pawel couldn’t handle
the sensation very long either because after only a few minutes in that
position, he moaned loudly and was spent.

He pulled out of her,
still gasping for air, and apologizing for his lack of stamina. “It’s been a
few months for me,” he confessed. Sarah smiled. She preferred to take it as a
compliment, and besides, she had orgasmed twice under Pawel’s talented tongue. She
reassured him that she was fine and all was well.  

Later they snuggled,
with her head on his chest. But when it came time to fall asleep, she turned
over on her side. When she awoke in the morning, there was a foot of space in
between them.

***

The next morning as
Sarah was packing up her stuff to head back home, she sent James a text:
What
time do you want me tonight?

By four in the afternoon,
he had yet to respond. She sent him another text:
Is everything alright?

By five o’clock, she had
still not heard and she began to worry. Something seemed wrong.

***

Sarah woke up in a cold
sweat. She’d had the mountain climbing dream again, where her blood was
splashing onto the rocks below and yet she kept climbing, even with the pain
shooting down her leg.
Why do I keep dreaming this?
she questioned.
And
why am I so compelled to keep climbing
? She was alarmed by the vividness of
the imagery and how the breathlessness, the pressure, the pain all stayed with
her long after she awakened.  

It was one of those
times she had slipped into a deep sleep when her original intention was to
catch a short catnap. The kids were off to her mother’s house for the night,
and she had been waiting to hear from James.
I was only going to sleep for
twenty minutes...
There was something so disorienting about falling asleep
in the dusk and waking up enveloped by complete darkness. She rubbed her
eyes and reached for her phone, which had gotten shoved under the pillow on the
other side of the bed. 
Surely he’s contacted me by now
, she
thought.

Nothing.

James was not a stellar
communicator, a fact of which Sarah was painfully aware, but it was unlike him
to go radio silent when they had plans. She tried not to panic as she reviewed
the possible explanations.
 I’m sure something came up at work,
she
decided
.
Slightly blinded by the brightness emitted from her phone, she
fumbled for the switch on the lamp next to the bed. Even before the light
filled the room, she noticed the clock said 8:08. She’d been asleep for
over two hours.

Suddenly she heard banging
coming from downstairs. Her heart leapt in her ribcage as she thundered
down the stairs to see what was going on. The sound was coming from the back
door and there was a figure outlined against the light colored curtains. Sarah
could immediately see it was James. A sense of relief washed over her as she
quickly unlocked the door and let him inside.

“What’s going on?” Sarah
shrieked, so surprised and happy to see him. She threw her arms around his
shoulders and hung on tight. His frame felt stiff and unyielding.

He backed away from her
a bit, his expression devoid of his trademark grin. “I’m sorry, my phone is out
of commission; that’s why I haven’t been in touch.”

“Oh,” she said,
realizing she had worried for nothing. “That’s okay, I’m glad you let me
know though. I was starting to wonder about you!”

He kissed her on the
cheek. “I can’t stay unfortunately, something came up at work, and I need
to go in. I just didn’t want you to worry about me.”

The smile vanished from
her face. “On a Saturday night?” she asked in disbelief. She took a step
back and found herself butting up against the smooth, cold wall.

“The US Army doesn’t
care what time it is,” he smirked. “I’m really sorry.”  

She noticed he wasn’t
making full eye contact. 
Something else is going on
, she observed. It
was like a wall had sprung up; she could sense it in his body language, in the
way he was deflecting her warmth and energy.

He read the
disappointment on her face and looked away again. “I’ll get my new phone
next week and I’ll be in touch then.” He kissed her on the cheek and then
turned and left without another word.

Sarah stared at the
empty doorway as if he would return any moment and they’d start over again. But
after a time, she instead started to wonder if she’d imagined the whole
encounter. After all, she had just awakened from that horrible nightmare.
Maybe
I’m still dreaming? 
She shook her head and rubbed her eyes, feeling
the stark, cold reality seep in.
I appear to be pretty lucid. Shit.

Sarah considered that
she hadn’t eaten dinner yet and tried to coax herself into the kitchen, but
she’d lost her appetite. She stepped into the dark silence of her living room
and stiffly seated herself in her wingback chair. She felt numb and suspended
as she processed the scene that had played moments before, the tiny details
bursting into her mind all at once like popcorn, each kernel of memory
exploding and needing to be examined simultaneously.  

It was obvious there was
more going on than a broken phone and a call to duty. Sarah always trusted her
gut in situations like this; after all, her intuition had served her quite well
in her thirty-six years. She would have never survived single parenthood or her
divorce if she had not trusted herself. Not to mention grad school.
That was
a leap of faith
, she remembered. She set aside those instances and
focused on the one at hand, painful as it was. Every fiber of her being was
screaming at her that something was awry, something had changed.

Her thoughts began to
take shape. The one conclusion she had vehemently tried to deny for weeks
was now ringing throughout her mind:
I am in love with him
.

They never talked about
their relationship - not since early on when she suggested the friends with
benefits arrangement. She’d explicitly said she didn’t want to complicate his
life. Then she had Rachel admonishing her continuously to keep her feelings in
check. She suddenly flashed back to that night she laid in his arms and sensed
with startling clarity:
this man is going to break my heart someday.

Maybe it’s already
started
, she considered. 
But
why? What has changed? 
She curled her feet up under her thighs in the
wingback chair and wrapped her arms around herself. She started to rock
back and forth, ever so slightly, as the tears began to trickle down her
cheeks.
 I’ve fallen in love with him, but he doesn’t feel the same
,
she realized.
 I’m just this woman he can hang out with from time to
time, who takes care of his needs, holds him for a while and then sends him
back out into the world. I’m this older woman. A mom.
 
I’m a
toy he takes out of the box and plays with once a week and then he tucks me
away till next time.
She was heaving and sobbing now, her head in her
hands, trembling with despair at this stark revelation. 
He would never
consider an actual relationship with me, and here I am pining away over him
like a fool.

Sarah suddenly stood up
and pulled her hair, damp and sticky from her tears, off her face. She
took a deep breath and walked into the kitchen where she poured herself a glass
of wine.
 I can do better than this
, her confidence returned. 
I
don’t need James McAllister. I can move on and if I want to have these
feelings for someone, I can find someone who can share them, who can
reciprocate.

After two more glasses
of wine, her resolve was fortified. She took out her phone and deleted his
number, his picture, and all of his text messages.

***

Sarah spent a
considerable amount of her Sunday grading papers from her Sociology of Gender
class. The more papers she read about feminism, the more strongly she felt
about her decision to let James fade out of her life.
I am not defined by my
relationships
, she repeated a mantra she had adopted several years ago.
My
happiness is dependent on me, not a man.
Then she thought about letting
James go:
It was a lot of fun while it lasted,
she considered,
but
it’s better to stop now while the heartache will be minimal.
 Sarah
decided not to say anything to Rachel just yet. She just wanted some alone time
to focus on getting through the rest of the semester and trying to make the holiday
season fun for her kids.
Ah, Rachel will be disappointed that there won’t be
a threesome in her future
, Sarah mused.

While Sarah was grading,
she would occasionally field questions from Owen about various things. He not
only had an intense curiosity about people, relationships, sex, and how the
world worked, but he was also obsessed with time and schedules. He was
forever asking “What are we doing today? What are we doing tomorrow?” He
had been this way since he could talk. Sarah remembered joking when he was
four and learning how to read that she should print out a daily itinerary and
post it on his door to aid in his learning to read and to minimize the incessant
questions.
Two birds, one stone
, she’d laughed. That afternoon he posed
a series of inquiries about their upcoming holiday plans. Sarah had given it
very little consideration up to that point save for the various traditional
activities they always did. She was not quite far enough removed from
Thanksgiving to truly embrace the Christmas spirit. But Owen was ready to
get on with it, to find their tree -  they always bought a live Christmas
tree - and to deck the halls with boughs of holly and other decorations.

“I need to get through
this week at work, sweetie,” she explained. “But next weekend, okay?  It’s
not even December yet!”  

He looked disappointed
but finally accepted her answer and went off to torment his sister. That
naturally drew the teenage beast from her lair and into the public space of the
house to prowl. Sarah could tell immediately from Abby’s heavy, plodding
footsteps down the stairs that she was in a mopey, crabby mood. She heard the
refrigerator door open and slam shut and the heavy footsteps work their way
into the living room where she stood with her hands on her hips, wearing an
exasperated look. “There’s nothing here to eat,” she whined.

“Sure there is,” Sarah
replied. “There are leftovers from dinner the other night. There’s frozen
pizza. There’s salad. There’s frozen yogurt.”

“Yuck, that all sounds
gross,” she adamantly rejected all of her mother’s suggestions.

Sarah didn’t even look
up from grading. “I’m sure if you’re hungry enough, something will
eventually sound good.”

Abby plopped down on the
couch and let out an Oscar-worthy dramatic sigh. She propped her feet up
on the coffee table and sighed again, in case the first one had somehow escaped
her mother’s notice. Sarah had a feeling the drama was only going to
escalate until she initiated a conversation and addressed whatever issue was
plaguing her daughter. “What’s going on?” she asked as neutrally as possible,
setting her red pen down to show she was serious and giving her full attention.

Abby looked down at her
feet, which were covered in brightly striped knee socks. She took a deep
breath and then softly uttered, “I’m sad that I won’t be able to go to the
Christmas dance.” She twisted her long honey colored hair between her
index finger and thumb and awaited her mother’s response.

Sarah had to suppress
the urge to roll her eyes this time. She could see that Abby had taken on the
role of Contrite and Pitiful Teen, hoping to gain clemency. Sarah thought the
month of grounding was a fairly merciful sentence considering the egregious
crimes of lying and underage drinking. She smiled sweetly at her daughter,
whose gaze was dejected and downtrodden. “I’m sorry, honey, but I think
you should have thought about that before you made the choice to get drunk and
lie to your mother and your boyfriend’s parents.”  

The contrite façade
abruptly vanished. Even though she had not yet replied, Sarah witnessed
the anger boiling up from deep within her daughter, her face reddening and her posture
stiffening. Sarah could sense that an explosion was imminent and realized like
this was a perfect opportunity to show her daughter that attempting to use
drama to manipulate her mother’s emotions was an unequivocal fail. “You needn’t
get angry with anyone but yourself, Abigail,” Sarah said sternly. “When you
make bad choices, you must live with the consequences.”

The magma was soon to reach
the mouth of the volcano. Sarah could feel it rising, bubbling from within
her daughter’s core, her body starting to tremble with venomous rage. “Yes,
obviously you were always the perfect person  I’m sure you always made
brilliant choices and never had anything go wrong!” Abby finally erupted.

“I think you know full
well that I’ve made both good and bad choices in my life, and when I’ve made a
bad choice I have learned to cope with the fallout. That is a life lesson
that everyone must learn,” Sarah said as calmly as she could.

“Oh, that’s right,”
Abby’s voice grew louder and deeper, bolder. “You did make a mistake...” She
paused for effect, then screamed at the top of her lungs: “ME!” She was no
longer able to contain her tears. They began to spew out of her face along with
her words: “I know you were drinking the night I was conceived. And you don’t even
KNOW who my father is!!!” With that, Abby stood up and began to turn toward the
steps, returning to her lair.
           
Sarah
was seething. Abby had been told that her father was Sarah’s college boyfriend
who had decided he was too young to be a father and chose not to be involved in
his daughter’s life. She had no idea where Abby’s rage was coming from, let
alone the accusations she was making. “Get back here, Abigail, you are not
leaving the room in the middle of this conversation.”

Abby reluctantly turned
around but didn’t step forward back into the living room. Sarah glared at
her expectantly but she was stiff like a statue. She took a deep breath and
found her calm voice again, “Sit down so we can talk this out.” Abby complied.