Black Sheep Pt. 06

CHAPTER 6.1: ISHTAR

I couldn't breathe.

I was having some kind of panic attack. I hauled myself onto the couch and tried to catch my breath. No matter how hard I tried, though, I couldn't breathe properly and for some reason, I couldn't stop crying. I just kept thinking...I honestly don't know what I was thinking. The only thing that ran through my mind was...was that I'd messed everything up in a way that couldn't be reversed. I didn't know how to fix anything, so I just sat on the couch hugging myself and crying over nothing and everything.

That was how Chrissy found me when he came back from work. He was so worried, so loving and perfect. He knelt in front of me and asked: "Ishtar, babe, what's going on? Did something happen? Did someone hurt you?"

I could tell from the panic in his eyes that his mind was coming up with the absolute worst scenarios. He didn't want to say it because he didn't want it to be true, but I could tell that he thought someone must have forced themselves onto me.

In response to his questions, I shook my head as vehemently as I could.

I could tell that he was slightly relieved; but I'd never had a panic attack before so my present state was still something that alarmed him. "What's going on, Ishtar. Please talk to me. I can't help you if I don't know what's going on."

In theory, telling him about me and Linc was the easiest thing in the world, right? All I had to do was say that Linc and I were exes (sort of) and that the reason I didn't tell him sooner was because I was kind of forced into the lie. I mean, wasn't that the truth, after all?

But I couldn't just say that, could I? They were brothers, after all. They were brothers and I was the Jezebel who was going to come between them. It wouldn't matter that Linc and I were together nearly a decade ago, it wouldn't matter that I chose Chrissy. In the end I would still be the slut who slept with two brothers and Chrissy and everyone else were going to hate me for it. It wouldn't matter what I said, or how I said it, the truth was that Linc and I lied about out past. There was no way anyone could ever fix the pain that was going to be caused by that.

"Linc is my ex," I said, suddenly.

Radio silence followed my statement. I now think that Chrissy was simply waiting for me to explain further because, as I soon realized, he didn't know who Linc was; and even if he did, it shouldn't have mattered for me to have been in a relationship with someone else before I met Chrissy, because Chrissy had had relationships of his own.

I saw the immediate relief on Chrissy's face. It made me feel worse because I also realized that he thought I was simply having a moment of cold feet about our wedding, and therefore experiencing some understandable anxiety and confessing irrelevant things from my past. He often worried that I was trying to do too much all at the same time.

To rectify his misunderstanding, and following my formula of mere moments ago, I simply spoke suddenly, without much thought to what I was actually saying. "Linc is Henry, your brother, he and I used to date."

I don't think the meaning of my words registered immediately, but as soon as they did, Chrissy immediately let go of my hands and squinted his eyes at me as though, like characters in the books I read while growing up were wont to do, he was truly seeing me for the first time. He closed his eyes and shook his head several times. He kept opening his mouth and closing it. Then finally, in what I can only assume to be extreme denial, he burst out laughing.

"That's a very good one, babe" he said, still laughing hysterically. "You almost had me there. Henry always played dirty games on me when we were kids. Of course he would do something like this. In fact, it's a double joke on me since I really should have expected him to do this. My brother is a little crazy in case you haven't noticed. Did he come up with the name Linc?"

He went back to holding my hands. I was suddenly crying uncontrollably again because my resolve to tell him the whole story was quickly getting weaker. His denial or misunderstanding, or whatever else it was that caused him to think we were playing a joke on him, was giving me an out. He was basically giving me a get-out-of-jail free card. I could still claim that yes, everything was all a bad joke and that yes, I was really that good of an actress—that the panic attack was something I put on to make the joke more believable.

"Hey, hey, hey," he said, pulling me into his arms. "Don't worry about it. Shhh, don't worry about it. We're good. We're good, okay."

"This isn't a joke, Chrissy," I told him in between sobs. "Linc...Henry is gone...because, because...he's gone, okay, this isn't a joke." Half the words made sense to me as I said them, the other half were like something that I had rehearsed in a drunken state and couldn't quite remember. And with each word that left my mouth, I felt Chrissy's hands slowly let go of me.

I couldn't quite place if what I felt was relief or dread. Sometimes Lexi and I had to give presentations at seminars and conferences, we both hated those things so much such that each time we had to do it, our skin broke into a million pimples, we puked our lungs out, and we couldn't eat anything that was solid for a week.

When we finally gave the presentations, we both got this sense of doom and relief at the same time—doom because public speaking is a really shitty thing that I should have seriously considered when I upgraded to a PhD degree, and relief because the nightmare would be over in only a few minutes. All I needed to do was power through it.

That was precisely how I felt when I felt Chrissy's hands loosening around me. No, actually, that's not true. I felt a thousand times worse when I was telling Chrissy about me and Linc. Perhaps even a million times worse.

The truth was finally hitting home for both of us; as a result, I no longer had to keep that terrible secret and lie to him all the time. But at the same time, the truth was finally hitting home for him and his heart was going to get broken. Gosh, how I hated myself in that moment. I couldn't believe that I even felt slightly relieved. What the hell was wrong with me?

He stood up and stepped away from me. I realized that I wasn't crying anymore. That was another thing that bothered me—I was only realizing that things were happening to and around me. Again, I felt like a character in one of the books I always read—like I was a spectator to my life and more specifically, to my unfolding misery.

I felt like even though Chrissy was right in front of me, and I could both see and touch him, that he was also like a nightmare I needed to wake up from because he'd never looked at me the way he was looking at me in that moment. The silence that existed between us was deafening. And slowly, Chrissy's face was filling up with a look of absolute horror.

"What do you mean, Ishtar?" he finally asked.

In response, I shook my head, like an idiot, I shook my head and tried to grab his hand. In response to that, he pulled even further away from. He took off his jacket, unfastened his tie and unloosened the top buttons of his shirt.

"I think you should talk, Ishtar," he said. "I think...I think..." He apparently couldn't finish his sentence because he resorted to demonstrating with his hand that I should go on with what I was about to say. Tears were pooling in his eyes, and his voice was getting shakier. I could tell that in that moment, in that very moment, I was breaking his heart.

"Linc and I were together."

"Why do you keep calling him that?"

I shrugged in defeat. "Because that was his name. That was what he told me was his name."

"You and he used to date? You're sure about that?"

"No...yeah, I mean, we were together but we weren't..."

"Which is it, Ishtar?" He was saying my name a lot, I realized. I also realized that it wasn't from fondness or anything like that. He was simply getting impatient with me because, as I again realized, I sounded like a complete idiot who was beating around the bush instead of simply saying what was on her mind.

So I said: "We met seven years ago and started a relationship. Officially, we never dated but we...you know, we were together in every other way. But it ended and I never saw him again."

"Until the night you met my parents," he finished for me.

"Yes."

"Was that the first time you realized he was my brother?"

"Yes."

"Did you have anything to do with him suddenly coming back home?"

"No."

"You're telling me the truth right now?"

"Yes."

"Have you slept with him since that night?"

"No."

He didn't believe me. I wouldn't believe me, either. Perhaps he could sense that what I was telling him was only half the truth. So he repeated: "Have you slept with him since that night?"

I hesitated. Essentially, he wasn't really asking whether or not I literally slept with his brother in the time that he (Chrissy) and I were engaged, he was asking whether or not I had ever cheated on him. I might have not slept with Linc, but I kissed him, I allowed him to sneak me to a clandestine spot so could kiss under the stars and all that crap, I allowed him to enter my thoughts every time Chrissy and I made love, I allowed him to finger-fuck me in his hotel room, and I liked it, and then I lay in his arms and fantasized about...about stupid, impractical things.

How could I say all of those things to my fiancé?

Chrissy was getting more impatient because he sighed and asked: "Have you been fucking him? It's a simple question, Ishtar—have you been fucking my brother?"

"No."

"Are you sure? Because it took you a mighty long time to remember that."

"We kissed," I whispered. I was crying again, so I closed my eyes and spilled everything as quickly as I could, before my resolve weakened again. "He...eh...with his finger once, just once, I promise, it was just that one time."

That time he did actually start crying. He buried his face in his hands; but still, when I tried to touch him he flinched away from me. Feeling helpless, I stepped away and just started rambling away: "Please don't hate me. I swear it will never happen again. Please forgive me, please, Chrissy, please forgive me."

He quickly wiped his face to look back at me again. His eyes were still red, though; and his lips were still trembling. But I suppose he wanted to get to the end of the ordeal.

He said: "For now I'm going to overlook that you let my brother finger you because the mere thought of it disgusts me, and I'm not sure it's something I want to discuss any further right now. I want to address something else. You see, this is what confuses me, Ishtar, and this is why I suppose I'm actually angry with you: why did you feel the need to hide your past relationship with him from me?"

I didn't know how to answer that. I searched in my head because a few weeks ago I was absolutely sure that keeping those things from Chrissy was the right thing to do. I even had reasons that made sense, dammit. But in that moment, when I was faced with having to explain myself, I came up with nothing because, I realized, those reasons were just lies I repeated to myself in order to make myself feel better.

I thought I was protecting Chrissy, that I was protecting our relationship. But to be honest, I was simply protecting myself. Even more than that, I was protecting Lincoln; I wanted him to come back into his family without the kind of adversity that could possibly rise from having slept with his brother's wife. I wanted that for him, and for myself; because I wanted to pat myself on the back and say that I gave him something that special.

"Huh?" said Chrissy, prompting me to answer him.

"Because I love you. Because I didn't want to lose you. I didn't want you to hate me, Chrissy."

He closed his eyes as though in pain. "Dear God, Ishtar," he muttered under his breath. "How the fuck are you the one who's been getting finger-fucked by my brother and lying to me and yet I'm the one who feels like a jackass. Don't fucking do that, don't fucking feel sorry for yourself right now."

"I'm sorry, okay..."

"Don't be sorry for yourself! Any other day, Ishtar, any other day you can pull that crap but not today and not right now."

I wanted to say I was sorry again, which he realized, which caused him to look away from me. He didn't want to feel sorry for me, either, not that day, not while I was busy breaking his heart.

I thought we were done but he turned around and asked: "Are you in love with him?"

For the first time that day, I answered a question quickly. "I love you, Chrissy. You're the one I want to be with."

He nodded. "You do realize that you didn't actually answer my question, right?"

I shook my head vehemently. "No. I'm not in love with him."

"Why should I believe you?"

"Because it's the truth."

"Then why did you let him finger you?"

"Because...I don't know. I was weak. But it won't happen again. I promise it won't happen again, Chrissy. Please believe me. Nothing like that will ever happen again."

"Because he's gone, or because you're over him?"

"Because I got over him. I told him to stop because you're the one I love. You're the one I want. Please believe me."

"How the hell am I supposed to do that when I've just found out you're such a great liar?"

"Because you know how much I love you. I said no to Henry. I made him stop because I couldn't go on betraying you." My voice was cracking up again but I continued anyhow. "You're the one I want, Chrissy. You have to know that's true."

In the past, whenever Chrissy and I got into a fight that was entirely my fault, I seduced him into getting over it. I knew it was underhanded and could possibly fail. But I didn't know what else to do. I wanted him to forgive me; I needed it. I couldn't lose him. He was the best person I knew. He loved me and I loved him in ways he could never imagine. I didn't want to lose him and I still had that one card to play. So I walked to him again, and he didn't move away from me that time.

"I'm sorry, Chrissy," I told him. "I'm very sorry. I love you."

He knew exactly what I was doing. He wanted to say no to me. I could see it in his eyes. But at the same time, I think he wanted to prove something either to me or to himself, so he didn't move away even when I started kissing him. Finally, he stopped being stoic and lifted me from the floor. My legs eagerly wrapped around his waist as he led me to the couch, where he fucked me more passionately than he'd ever done before.

Yet when I woke two hours later he was gone.

CHAPTER 6.2: CHRISTOPHER

I hated myself a little. I basically allowed Ishtar to seduce me into submission. On some weird level, I wanted to make love to her right then and there. I'm sure Freud would have something to say about that. It had to be some kind of psychological thing, right? How else could I explain sleeping with Ishtar right after she told me that she and my older brother basically had a friends-with-benefits kind or relationship a few years ago, and that she occasionally kissed him and let him finger her even after she and I were engaged?

Perhaps on another, weirder level, we made love more passionately than we'd ever done before. There were a lot of tears, and we were certainly a lot rougher with each other. Five minutes after we came the first time, she straddled me and rode me until we both came a second time. Ten minutes after that I turned her over and fucked her in the ass while also fingering her pussy. The fourth time she slid down my body and took my dick whole in her mouth, then sucked it like her life depended on it, then swallowed my whole load.

Neither of us said a word through all of that. We just fucked and moaned and when it was all done, we fell asleep with tears drying on our faces. If we lived in a perfect world I would have stayed there with her until sunrise, when I would make her breakfast and we could feed each other in bed. We'd make love again until our bodies protested from sheer exhaustion, then we'd eat some more and try to catch the sunrise or sunset, if we could.

But that wasn't the world we lived in, and though I let her seduce me, and seduced her in return, it didn't make sense to go on pretending that things were still rosy and perfect. I needed some time away from her. I needed to think. I needed to look at her and not be rudely awakened to the kind of deception she was capable of. I needed to make a decision without first looking into her beautiful brown eyes because once I did that, there was no way I was going to make a decision that would work out best for me.

It was selfish, I knew that, but maybe I needed to be selfish. And maybe all those things were the reason I just left her there without explaining myself.

***

I knew that Henry couldn't have simply left. He still needed to get a few documents sorted out. If he was as passionate about returning to East Africa as he said he was, which I believed he was, he would definitely stay put until everything regarding his extension was sorted.

I need to get hold of my mother, or Avery; I reasoned that he probably told one of them where he was going since I couldn't imagine him simply disappearing off the face of the Earth again. He apparently hadn't told Ishtar where he was going...I didn't even ask her (to be honest) because I was afraid of the answer. I didn't want to know just how much she mattered to him.

I had this splitting headache from thinking and crying then thinking then disbelieving everything and then going back to crying again and finally, hating myself for being such a complete tool. How did I miss it—the connection or whatever the fuck it was that existed between Ishtar and my brother?

Avery straight up told me that those two behaved strangely around each other. And what did I do, I did nothing, absolutely nothing about it. I should have asked more questions. I should have watched them more. I should have...fuck...she really did that to me, didn't she? Ishtar cheated on me with my big brother. The woman I loved more than I knew how to explain, the only woman I'd ever loved—and she somehow ended up as one more person Henry could take away from me. He didn't even have to try, he could simply reach out and take people away from me.

Ishtar said she felt nothing for him. But if that was the case, why did she let him kiss her? Why did she let him touch her? Did she like it? Did she miss him? Did she miss what they did together, physically, emotionally? What attracted her to him in the first place?

I was driving myself crazy with questions I knew I would never ask her because I was afraid of the answers, and it honestly felt like the more we talked about it, the more we were validating whatever it was that happened between them.

But even with all that, there were still some things I needed to deal with before making any decisions or moving on. The strange thing was that I had this nagging feeling that everything that I did (or avoided doing) was something I was going to regret later on. The first thing on the list of big things to do was finding Henry and...and confronting him, I suppose.

I drove to my office because that was sadly the only place I'd be able to think clearly and track my brother without the distraction that would be Ishtar's presence. I called my mother first. The first thing I heard when she answered the phone was a soft sob. She sounded the way people do when they've just recovered from a cold, like she had been crying. I figured that Henry must have told her in some way that he was leaving.

"Henry told you he was leaving?" was the first thing I said to her.

"I guess he told you too," she said in response. "Christopher dear, did he tell you why he decided to leave so suddenly? It is so very abrupt, absolutely nonsensical. All he left was a poorly-written note that barely explains anything. Did he tell you more, perhaps?"