The Reason I Breathe Read online

  Even as joined as we were in that moment. I could feel you pulling away. Not physically, but emotionally. I watched as you got up and retrieved a damp cloth from the bathroom. I had the same reaction you had the first time I’d washed you. You always appeared amazed when I did this. I began to wonder if anyone had ever taken care of you. I wanted you to know “cleanup” was my job and I loved doing it.

  Your response shook me to my core, baby. You wanted what we had to be an equal-opportunity relationship. It was the first time you’d even mentioned the “R” word. I think maybe that was the first time I believed us being together might actually happen. That you were invested. When you said you’d stay as long as I wanted you… Jesus, babe, my emotions soared. As long as I wanted you? That had been most of my life. And I for one had no intentions of walking away.

  No matter how hard I had to fight, I knew it would be worth it. I never honestly thought there would be a battle. It had never crossed my mind. And I never thought above all the opposition, the biggest person I’d have to fight would be you. You would be the challenge of my life. But I’d waited too long for this. I never knew until right then what “being as one” meant. I’d read and pondered many definitions, but never got answers. Until now. I knew we were one.

  ~14~

  “Good morning, Shea. Sorry I woke you.”

  I look around, not remembering where I am briefly. My back hurts and my neck feels stiff. I sit up quickly when I recognize my neck isn’t the only thing stiff. It appears my stories have an arousing effect on me, since I’m currently sporting the hard-on from hell. As much as I would like to blame having a full bladder as the culprit, I clearly have ejaculated. I can feel it. Shit. The wetness and the stickiness in my jeans. Damn, this is embarrassing. I haven’t had a wet dream since I was a kid, and I certainly haven’t come in my pants. Well, ever.

  It floods back to me. The dream I had. I remember taking Ryan on the rug by the fireplace. The curve of her back and the contours of her ass. Her soft expression as she promises me a relationship. For as long as I want her, she’ll never leave. I choke back a silent sob. I miss my wife.

  I know deep inside me, I’m walking a fine line between logic and insanity. That all of this has pushed me too close to the edge. It’s been coming a long time, and maybe I should see someone. It’s a little too late to dwell on my childhood hell when I’m currently residing in adult hell. Maybe Trina’s right. I need to share my pain and fears with someone objective. I’m scared what I’m feeling isn’t natural. That this isn’t love—but bordering on obsession. Either way, something bad is going to happen if I lose her.

  I need to talk to a lawyer. Wait. Why do I need a lawyer? Because if Ryan dies, so will I. I’m not capable of being what my children need. Am I selfish and immature? Probably. Even I’m disgusted with myself because I can’t see the bigger picture. It’s a blank canvas without her. And I know for certain I’ll never be father of the year, so I will not leave my kids without parents and a loving home. Trina and Quinn should raise them.

  Holy Fuck, if Ryan could hear my thoughts right now, she’d leave me. She’d fall out of love with me immediately, because I can’t be trusted. She’d be yelling to man up and grow some balls. She would be so disappointed in me. She can’t depend on me. I love my children, I swear. But I cannot live without Ryan. I need to be with her. She’s my entire world, and if anything happens to her, the center of my universe will tilt on its axis. She’s responsible for who I am. I cannot be the person she expects me to be without her. I’m too weak to go it alone. Please don’t make me choose.

  “I’m glad to see you finally sleeping on the cot. If you continued nodding off in that chair, I thought I’d either have to bring in the ortho chair or send you Dr. Thompson. He’s an excellent chiropractor.” Lynne chuckles as she hangs the new water bag and checks Ryan’s feeding tube.

  I stretch out but keep myself covered with the sheet. “No, Lynne, I’m good. A little stiff…” A little stiff. Jesus. I choke on the words as I roll my eyes and clear my throat.

  “You know you can use the facilities, aka the shower, and get something to eat. I can stay with her until you get back.”

  “Maybe later. I’m not really hungry, but if it’s okay, I will use the shower.” I decide to ask even though I have no doubt they know I’ve been using it periodically.

  “Shea, you are the most devoted man I’ve ever seen. At least in my eighteen years here. It is so clear how committed you are to your wife. She’s very lucky,” she says as her eyes drift to my chest. I feel a slight tinge on my cheeks. Lynne is checking me out.

  “She must love you something fierce to have gotten her tattoo. I’m not sure I would even do that, and I’ve been with Harry thirty years. It’s obvious to me how you two are. I’m so sorry for both of you and Holly. Your sister has your daughter, right. She’s her caretaker currently?”

  I nod as she continues to talk to me.

  “You’ve barely left this room in ten weeks. What are you going to do when your son comes?”

  I shake my head and twist the sheet in my hands. I haven’t thought that far ahead. I have no experience with babies. If I have to be honest, Ryan did all the heaving lifting when Holly was born. Yeah, I rocked her, changed her, and gave her a bottle. I’m nervous around kids—even my own. The things I did are minor compared to what Ryan did. I want to be a great father, but I’m not sure how to handle the task without her. I will be no substitute for a mom.

  “Two of the doctors are going to run a few tests on Ryan this afternoon. We need to see how much her brain activity has improved. Your son is going to be here soon. You should start preparing. She’ll deliver before you know it. Maybe see about getting some help for when he goes home.”

  Home. There is no home. Not without Ryan.

  “How’s that going to work, delivering Riley while she’s in a coma?”

  “They’ll take him via C-section.”

  They’re going to cut open my wife? Among all the other things that have been done to her. She’s always opted for a vaginal birth. I was less than thrilled when I saw my wife’s vagina stretched to the size of Rhode Island. But I survived it and will be prepared to do it all again if she would wake up!

  “Will she know? Will she feel it? She’ll be all right, won’t she?” I ask, bombarding Lynne with an array of questions.

  “I’ve assisted in a few coma births and everything went smoothly. Please don’t worry. The best thing you can do for her right now is be strong,” she says as she finishes checking the rest of the tubes.

  Be strong? If the people surrounding me only knew. I act strong. I look strong. But all this, it’s just a fallacy. The only one who gives me courage is the person lying in that bed. Ryan has the power to make or break me, and right now, it’s both.

  “You’re talking to her daily, right?” she asks as she faces me.

  For the first time in my life, I feel my face go beet red. Jesus, all I can do is nod. Frankly, I have no notion of telling Nurse Lynne, Yeah, I’ve been reliving our sexual escapades so much that I came in my pants. I’d laugh if I didn’t find myself being so miserable.

  “Yup, all day and sometimes into the night. She’s had some visitors too. Not as many as in the beginning, but they show up now and then.”

  “That’s very common. Family members and friends come in the beginning, but after a while, it takes its toll. It’s much harder on them and you than on Ryan.”

  “I don’t get that logic. She’s the one in the coma,” I say flatly.

  “It’s harder because Ryan isn’t conscious of her surroundings—”

  I cut her off. “But you said you thought she can hear me. I mean, in your opinion.”

  Lynne seems flustered, and it worries me that maybe she’s keeping something from me.

  “I have no doubt she hears you, but it’s on a different level than actual consciousness. What I mean is she isn’t as aware as you are. You, your family and friends are all shouldering this b
urden. You’re aware of every little thing happening. I see how it affects you. I wish I could magically make her wake up. If you need anything, just ask for me. I’ll look in on you in a few hours. Maybe you’ll be hungry by then.”

  “Thanks. I mean it. Thanks for everything, including the pep talks.”

  “I put some clean towels in the bathroom. That’s our little secret,” she says, winking.

  The minute she leaves, I jump off the cot. My damn briefs are glued to my junk. I quickly pull off my jeans and jump into the shower. I let the hot, steamy water cascade over me for twenty minutes. I need more relief. It feels wrong to masturbate. I can’t do it. Once I towel-dry myself, I put on fresh jeans and a sweater. I roll my dirty clothes into a ball and place them into one of the hospital plastic bags for personal belongings.

  I walk back into Ryan’s room and pad over to her bed. I wish so much to lie down beside her, to hold her and whisper in her ear. I brush her hair from her face. God how I want to graze her lips with mine. Give her my life-affirming air. But the vent is doing its job and the cords prevent me from getting close.

  I hold her hand. It feels warm. She feels alive. She’s just sleeping. Resting. Healing. I feather my hand over her large belly that’s carrying our son. I press a kiss there. My head jars backward as I realize he just moved. Emotion wells up inside me as a tear forms at the corner of my eye.

  “Did you feel that, baby? That was Riley, saying hello,” I tell Ryan. “You need to open your eyes for him, baby.”

  I run my hand over the same place on her protruding stomach, but it’s quiet now. Maybe he’d been reaching out to me. Does he know I’m his father?

  ~15~

  It was clear to me that Trina and you had some kind of falling out. When I’d gotten home that night after school, I could tell. I knew you’d been crying, and I recognized my sister’s scarf lying on a chair. You’d told me before that it made you angry that she’d never confided in you. You were supposed to be best friends and she should have trusted you. Really, babe, we’d talked about this. I thought we had come to an agreement, that all was forgiven with Trina. Was it her job to inform you our father was abusing me?

  I knew by the look on your face Trina had finally told you EVERYTHING, every single gory detail. If you were crying again because of me, it would kill me. What happened was in the past. Nothing we did now was going to alter it. But somehow we had to get past it. I needed it to stay buried deep within so it could never surface again. It happened a long time ago, and now I was content. We were happy. Couldn’t we just bask in the afterglow?

  There was something else in your eyes. You looked fearful and worried. I would have liked to believe it was for me. Somehow, I knew. Jesus, Ryan, I think I always knew. You were carrying a secret that was so bad it terrified you. I blame myself. I should have forced it out of you, but I was too afraid to find out the truth. We’d kept so much from each other. I’d hid the most vicious parts of the abuse from you. When I think back, maybe you didn’t want to admit your abuse and how New York had been a bust. Maybe because it happened to me too, it kept you from telling me the truth. Anyway, that’s what I chose to believe. In the scheme of things right now, all that bullshit would be water under the bridge. Those two things would appear very insignificant compared to what lay ahead.

  Would me knowing the truth have changed our path? I’d like to believe I would have gotten past it. But knowing what Garrison had done, it would have eaten away at me. I can’t tell you for sure how I would have reacted at that time. But I have no doubt I wouldn’t have taken it well. Would you have stayed or would I have pushed you away? Just another case of cause-and-effect.

  Every single incident had led up to this time in our lives. I know your dad thought I was some kid with a crush, but I felt bonded to you the day I bit you. I marked you because I knew when I was old enough, you’d be mine. I didn’t know it then, but I did come to believe we were destined to be.

  Maybe I should have pried your past out of you. I’d been around you enough times now that I knew you harbored a dark secret. I could sit here and analyze all that bullshit over and over again, but it would still be bullshit. I never tried hard enough. I didn’t make you feel safe enough to tell me. I made you fear I would abandon you. And the worst part is I might have.

  I’m not proud of the way I acted. I’d promised you love was enough, but now I know that’s not true. Our relationship was so new at that point; I didn’t want to know about your last thirteen years. I certainly had no intention of going through my roster of women and telling you my sexual history. But there was a part of me that did yearn for some of your past. I wanted to know if someone had loved you and treated you well. I wanted to know if you’d ever given your heart to someone.

  * * *

  Of all the things I wish I could have sheltered you from, I couldn’t stop some dumb motherfucker from drinking and driving. I need to know you don’t blame me, because I feel like all of this is my fault. I’ve told you this before, but, baby, I would change places with you in a heartbeat. It physically pains me to know you could survive my death. It kills me knowing losing you would end me. I’d never survive the loss.

  You gave me your word that as long as I wanted you, you would stay. You are not allowed to break that promise. I won’t let you. I won’t allow it. I want so badly to be with you right now. Not sitting by your bed, but being inside you. I know what you’re thinking, but this isn’t me being a pervert. I just need you. I wish I could lie next to you. I want to feel your skin and take comfort in your warmth. I told you before I need the intimacy. I wish we could share the vent, because sometimes it’s hard to catch my breath when I think about you. You are my life support, baby.

  ~16~

  I wanted every single first holiday we spent together to be exceptional. I could tell you weren’t thrilled with Thanksgiving, but I wasn’t prepared for your views on Christmas. That first Christmas together had its moments. You generally despised that particular time of the year. At least you did years ago. I, on the other hand, relished the holiday. I enjoyed the music, the decorations, and the festivities. I wasn’t going to permit you to behave like Mrs. Scrooge. It meant everything to me that our first Christmas was something special. Oh—and it was.

  My favorite memory of our first Christmas was you undressing me in the garage and having your way with me. You can tell me. It was the Santa hat, right? We’d been spending more time at your house than my apartment. Frankly, I liked to believe it was because we had more room to fuck.

  You’d repeatedly told me you weren’t into Christmas. You evidently were into me though. You pulled me to you by my holiday tie and lip-locked me for two minutes. I was so turned on; I could have taken you right there. You snuggled up against me, our bodies so tight against each other. I felt you grind your pussy into my now strained erection. I was convinced you were trying to make me come in my pants and expressed those feelings. Yet you continued your lower body assault. My dick was getting quite the rubdown. You’d taken off my dress shirt and peppered my tattoos with kisses. You let me know since I made you come in your panties all the time, this was payback. I pressed my hand to the seam of your pants. Jesus, the heat almost scalded my fingers.

  When you told me you were sans panties, all I could think about was sliding inside you and feeling you clench tightly around me. I let you strip off my pants and briefs, leaving me in nothing but my holiday apparel. Once I got you into the living room, I convinced you these were our new erotic holiday traditions. Ones you would enjoy. I tugged down your jeans, leaving you dressed in only a sweater and socks. It was the hottest thing I’d ever seen. As I reached between your legs, you really were commando, and the proof glistened as I traced your labia with my finger.

  I didn’t stop at one finger. I began using two so I could tease your clit. Our eyes locked as you bit your bottom lip. I pushed you back until you sat on the sofa. I wanted you spread wide for me. Your knees trembled as I drew them apart. I knew it embarra
ssed you, but that pussy was mine. It belonged to Shea Michaels.

  I sat on the coffee table in front of you and took your feet, resting them between my legs. Your sock-covered toes tickled my cock, making me so hard my balls ached and I almost lost it. But I had other plans—this was about you. I wanted to watch as your body responded to every touch of my tongue. I had you bend your knees as the palms of my hands grazed your inner thighs. Your cheeks blushed as I continued to ghost my fingers lightly on the outside of your pussy.

  I told you how pretty it was. When those words left my lips, I could tell you were self-conscious, but not enough to tell me to stop. I bent my head and traced my tongue along your slit, tasting every bit of ambrosia you had to offer. Sometimes when I tasted you, I swear I felt like a starving man. Honestly, if I were on death row, I’d want my last meal to be your pussy.

  As I added fingers to my tongue, your arousal flooded my mouth, dripping onto my chin, and I briefly closed my eyes and savored the moment. When I opened them, I glanced up to see you watching me through hooded lids. Your expression only fueled the rush of heat that traveled through my body. I should have replaced my tongue with my dick right then. I was uncomfortable to say the least. Seeing you displayed like that made my cock pulse and blood rush to the engorged head. But I didn’t consider fucking you, because it was the first time you truly revealed yourself to me. I can’t explain the feeling—I’d seen you naked plenty of times—but right then, you bared yourself emotionally. You seemed vulnerable. The way it was with you then was more expressive than it had ever been. You said you loved me, but in that one instance, it embraced me. It’s another moment I will always cherish.

  Did I ever tell you how you affected my self-esteem? It wasn’t anything you said or did. I just felt pressured to be this perfect specimen of a man. I’d never suffered from it before. But when you came home, I knew I had to be the consummate boyfriend. I had to prove my worthiness. So when I actually knew for sure you loved me, it meant more than you saying the words.