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“Want me to tell you a funny story about my first time in therapy after my wreck?”
My stomach bottoms out again. I force myself to nod through it.
“Come sit down—if you want, that is.” We move toward the table together. Gwen guides me into a chair and takes the one beside me. “Beer cheese soup.”
“Smells amazing.”
“So,” she says, spreading a napkin in her lap, “I was taking anti-seizure meds, and something else too. Who even knows what. I was having bad headaches then, after the craniotomy I had those for a while, so could have been some kind of painkiller. They tried the low-dose thing, but that doesn’t really work for me, so I was out of it.” She laughs and shakes her head. “But I freaked out anyway and tried to run away. Of course, I was still using a wheel chair, so that didn’t work out well. I ended up rolling uncontrollably down this long ramp outside the building.” She cackles, covering her mouth. “And I crashed into this old man on crutches. He called me inconsiderate and asked what happened to my face. I was too doped up to think of something good to say so I said, ‘Your mom.’”
Gwenna’s silly face makes me laugh even though the picture she paints doesn’t. She howls and has to wipe her eyes.
“I wish you could have seen it. He was small and skinny, like this mean little old bird. Had to grab the rail to keep from face-planting.” Her eyes shut as she shakes her head. She’s smiling softly when she opens them, her eyes glowing as she looks at me. “So, did you mow anybody down?”
“Can’t say I did.”
“Well, I’m calling a win.”
Somehow, Gwen pulls me through dinner. I polish off a bowl of soup and a bunch of that good bread she makes, her leg hooked through mine under the table. Then we settle on the couch. I lay across it and Gwen stretches out between my legs. She rests her cheek on my chest, with her back to the couch’s spine.
We watch an episode of 30 Rock that’s old to Gwen and new to me, but I can’t focus. I can’t think of anything but Breck. My chest and shoulders ache, as if they’re trying to cave in on themselves. My stomach feels weird and unsteady, like a hole is growing there.
I wrap my arm around her shoulders, and I think of talking to her. But I can’t. I shouldn’t. If it’s going to last with her, I can’t take more than I already do. It’s one of the only vows I’ve made regarding her. That all the time I’m with her, I’ll try to do good. Be good. She doesn’t need my darkness.
When she snuggles against my chest and turns her big brown eyes on me, I tell her I’m okay. When she turns to me and unbuttons my pants, I welcome her hands on my hungry cock. Before I lose control, I find my way inside her, fucking her slowly at first, then faster, harder, until she’s almost crying. Then she comes and she does cry.
“Too good,” she giggles, wiping her eyes.
I savor the word, trying to hold it in my mind, let it expand to fill my whole head.
“You’re good,” I whisper.
“We are.”
But she’s wrong. Gwenna’s everything that’s good. I just have to change until I’m someone better.
ELEVEN
Gwenna
The next few weeks are something like magic. Barrett sees his therapist, Sean, two days in a row, then every other day for four more days. His nightmares go unchecked until he comes home with a prescription for Prazosin from Sean’s partner, a psychiatrist.
“I don’t know if I’ll take it. I told Sean that.”
“I tried it for a while.”
“And?”
I rub his leg with mine under the dinner table. “I thought it kind of helped. It made me dizzy. But I got some sleep before I went off it.”
He passes me the folded paper. I open it. “So just one pill right before bed? That’s a pretty low dose. I have that in a drawer here. You don’t have to fill this if you want to try mine.”
He nods, chewing tenderloin. The subject drops while we make ice cream: Bear’s idea—something he and his brothers used to do with their mom on their back porch. We have sex on the armchair in the den, and while I slip off to the bathroom, Bear slips into the garage to pluck a petal from one of my gardenias. I find him cupping it in his big hand, looking embarrassed.
I grin. “How’s all that going? Blossoming?” I tease.
He smiles. “You can probably bring them in soon. Even now.”
“I’ll let you do that.”
