Coming Together

It had started out simply enough, she was making a dinner for the two of them. He was going overboard with the idea of eating healthy, which she understood, but found very boring. Also, it seemed to symbolize his new depressed attitude and therefore, her inability to lift him out of his doldrums. She'd scoured her cookbooks for recipes that were low in sodium and cholesterol yet looked like they would appetizing. She settled on one for boiled chicken and broccoli simmered in an olive oil vinaigrette that looked decent.

She watched as he picked listlessly at his meal; he ate it, but without his former gusto. He even complemented her on it, but it wasn't the same old Palmer. After they ate they went into the living room and sat on the sofa to watch television. He stared blankly at the screen. If she said anything to him, he would perk up briefly, respond pleasantly, then drift back into his own world. It was almost like he'd developed attention deficit disorder. Ellen began to feel like she was failing him and it broke her heart.

She began to wonder if she could do anything right: she'd had an affair with a younger man and gotten pregnant, strike one, once pregnant she'd miscarried, strike two, she was trying to bring Palmer back to normal and didn't seem to know how, strike three. Three strikes and you're out. She saw herself as an incompetent, a loser. The thought ran through her head that she was simply incapable of doing anything, at least not anything important, without failing.

As she slid into the depths of self-pity, her emotions took over. She felt her lips tremble as her eyes welled up. She tried hard not to cry, but was unsuccessful in that also; tears were now running down her cheeks. She was the very picture of sorrow and self-recrimination.

"Ellen, what's the matter? Are you all right?"

Startled by his voice she was unable to answer, merely shaking her head vigorously. He reached over and wiped her cheek.

"Did I do something? What's bothering you, tell me. Please."

Ellen took a couple of deep breaths to steady herself. She leaned forward, hands pressed between her knees, shaking her head slowly. She wasn't sure how to answer.

"I don't know, nothing seems to work for me anymore." There was a pitiful quality in her voice. "I wanted to help, you're not the same. I don't know, I thought I could...do something. I can't, not working I guess."

She felt his arm slide across her shoulders. He pulled her easily to him, her head resting against his chest. His free hand stroked her cheek.

"I don't understand. You have helped. We've been getting together ever since I left the hospital. You've been cooking for me, keeping me company. How have you not helped?"

"No," shook her head again, "not like that. You've changed, we've all noticed. I thought I could get you back to your old self, but I can't. I can't, I've tried but it isn't working."

Leaning against him as she was, Ellen could feel him exhale. It was like he was deflating.

"Ellen, don't put this on yourself. I'm not sure how to explain this." She waited while he paused. "Look, this heart thing, I know it was no big deal, but it's the beginning of something. I know there's going to be more problems from here on out. This is just the start. A few weeks ago I was in good health, or thought I was. Now, suddenly I'm an old man; not in years so much, but I'm on the downhill slide. I'm facing the beginning of the end, that's a fact. This isn't your cross to bear."

"Bullshit!" She almost spat the word out, glaring up at him. "It's all bullshit and you know it. People have had worse happen than you did at younger ages and have lived long and happy lives. I've been feeling sorry for you? Seems like you've been feeling sorry enough for yourself, you don't need any sympathy from me."

"Hey, you want talk about people feeling sorry for themselves, go look in a mirror. Who are you to talk?"

Looking at him, she realized he was right. Even now, was she sorry for him or herself? She wasn't sure. Emotions were swirling through her all jumbled up: anger, sorrow, frustration, pity, self-pity, fear. She was unable to respond. He placed his hands on the sides of her face, as if he were holding her head.

"Ellen, please, I'm sorry. I had no right to say that. Forgive me. You've been nothing but a friend to me since this thing happened. I wouldn't want to insult you for all the world. I had no right to say that."

"No," her voice was strangely calm now. "You had every right, you're absolutely right. I have been feeling sorry for myself. Even now, I'm not sure if I'm sorry that you couldn't be helped out of your funk, or sorry that I couldn't be the one to do it. I see that now."

Then for reasons unbeknownst to her, she stretched herself up and kissed him. It wasn't a particularly passion filled kiss but it was emotional. Then she embraced him, her head on his shoulder.

"God, aren't we something? Blind leading the blind, or at least trying to. It's all a God damned joke."

She leaned back and looked at him again, then kissed him once more. The first time she had taken him by surprise, not so this time. He responded slowly and gently, but lovingly. The whole thing was unplanned and unscripted, completely spontaneous. Neither had even thought about making love, let alone intended for it to happen. Ellen had a tingling nervous feeling in her bowels, one that she remembered from her younger days, when sex was still new and novel to her. Her one hand dropped down to feel him; he was aroused. Her hand jerked away from his erection quickly, as if burned. It was also like her early sexual encounters, when she wasn't sure what she was supposed to do. She didn't want to appear too eager, but she didn't want to stop.

As she clung to him, their lips pressed together, tongues probing, John's hands roaming freely, feeling her through her clothes, she knew this would be different, better perhaps, than any sexual experience she'd had in a long time. Make no mistake, Ellen had always enjoyed sex, but after the early period of her marriage it had become something purely physical; highly enjoyable but a simple part of life. Sort of like having a good meal or a night out; great, but something you expect every now and then and feel entitled to. This, even in these very early stages of foreplay, had an emotional quality to it that she hadn't felt through most of her marriage, not with her ex, not with young Ted, or with the couple of dalliances she'd had in between.

She could feel her heart beating rapidly and heavily, nervous with anticipation. When she loosened her grip on him her hands were trembling. As he kissed her neck, his hand pressed against her lower belly, massaging it lovingly then moving down to her crotch firmly pressuring her. Even through her slacks, his touch thrilled her. Her thighs involuntarily closed together, trapping his hand while her hips shifted in a rocking motion. She'd passed the point of no return.

Her hands eased him gently back away from her and she stood up. She looked down at him wordlessly, watching as he got up off the sofa. Once he was in front of her they embraced each other, pressing their bodies tightly against each other as they kissed. Ending the kiss, Ellen stepped back, one hand on the side of his face. She slowly let it slid down to his neck finally dropping away. Neither had said a word, the silence would continue. Turning, she started to walk slowly to the bedroom glancing once over her shoulder to be sure he was following her. She wanted to see if he would come uninvited, she was hoping, actually. He didn't disappoint her.

Once in the bedroom, she closed the drapes and shut the door. She didn't turn on the lights, she wanted it dark. It wasn't because she had any qualms about nudity, either being seen or seeing him, she intended for it to be a purely tactile experience; wishing to feel it rather than see it. She wasn't sure why, but she knew that's how she wanted it to happen. Taking his hand she led him the last few steps through the darkness to the bed and sat down, pulling him down beside her. He put his arm around her.

"Ellen, I..." She pressed her fingers over his lips, silencing him.

"Shhhh," Then whispered in his ear, "Don't talk. No more words, please."

Then she moved her hand to the back of his head and pulled him down for a kiss. And so it went, wordlessly in the dark they would make love. She reveled in the whole process; again, it reminded her of her early sexual experiences. Fumbling with their clothes, they undressed each other in stages. Unseen hands caressing, fondling, probing, lips pressing against flesh in the blackness; all done quietly, only the sound of their heavy breathing, occasionally highlighted by a soft moan or sigh, could be heard. His delicate personal caresses arousing her, driving her, preparing her for the ultimate intimacy. This was the way she wanted it to be, she wanted to lose herself in the pure sensuality of the act, uncorrupted by words.

When he moved above her, she adjusted her position, bent knees spread wide. Her hand went down, guiding him into her. She emitted a low groan as he penetrated her. It was actually a remarkable thing; they literally possessed each other, each trying to give themselves to the other. Each was trying desperately to please the other with little thought to themselves. Perhaps that's the basic formula for actual love making as opposed to mere intercourse. As stated earlier, the latter is what Ellen had been experiencing most of her life, the former is what she had been wanting.

Her ankles crossed behind him, Ellen levered herself in a twisting motion to match his every move. They both struggled unsuccessfully to remain quiet, but it was impossible. She could not stifle her sobbing moans, no matter how hard she tried. She shuddered deep inside as she felt the first signs of her approaching orgasm. She pressed her lips tightly together in a futile attempt to remain quiet in even this. But as the force of ecstasy overcame her, all she could do was reduce her cries to a series of higher pitched whines, sounding almost pained. Moments later she felt the unmistakable jerky motions of his climax. They had come to a mutually fulfilling finish almost simultaneously.

As they lay there holding each other, Ellen thought it was time to end the silence, but she couldn't think of anything to say. She turned her head slightly to receive his kiss. Their lips pressed together, working against each other, she knew now that she loved him. Not because they'd just had sex, but because of the way they'd had it. She couldn't even explain it to herself, couldn't understand it, but she knew this had been different, special. Even when the anxious, fleeting thought hit her that she might have just gotten herself pregnant again, she didn't care. Not only was this a relatively safe time for her, but also, if that was the price to pay for having made love to him, she was willing to pay it.

When he moved off of her and lay down, she sat up, leaned across him to the nightstand and turned on the lamp. She took his hand and fell back next to him. It seemed like an unnatural thing, they lay on the bed on their backs, both staring wordlessly at the ceiling. They each held the others hand, fingers entwined, the only physical contact between them. It was as if they were staring into the future and the plaster over their heads held some sort of answer. Finally Ellen felt the need to speak.

"You know what just happened, don't you?"

"Besides the obvious?" His hand tightened on hers slightly.

"Yeah, besides the obvious." She paused briefly, lower lip between her teeth, forcing the inhibitions from her mind. Then in an even and calm voice, "I fixed you."

"Fixed Me?" From the corner of her eye she could see him looking at her.

"Yes, you were broken and I fixed you. Now you belong to me. You're mine, that's how it works." She rolled her head to face him before continuing. "Don't get nervous, I don't want you if you don't want me. We helped each other over some rough roads. I think we belong to each other. That's what I think."

"You mean get married?"

"Or not; that part doesn't matter. But I think we should be together. It's all up to you though, if you think it would work, fine, if not you're free to walk away right now; I give up my claim on you." There was a slight pause, "All I ask is for you to be honest, it won't work otherwise. It's your choice."

There was silence, it only lasted a moment or two, but to Ellen it seemed like forever. She wasn't sure if his need to think up a response was good or bad. Outwardly calm and indifferent but her mind was racing, thoughts tumbling, pleading, hoping he would see the logic. Finally he spoke.

"You'd be hitching your wagon to a dying horse." The words hit her like a slap in the face.

"Not this again. Shit!" She rolled onto her side, facing him, propped up on her elbow. "You're not dying. Even if you were, wouldn't it be better to have a couple of years together, a couple of months, even a couple of days together than another forty years of being alone?"

She watched as he seemed to digest what she had just said. It was impossible for her to tell what he was thinking. She refused to ask, just continued looking at him for what seemed to be a long time, waiting.

"Marriage, huh?" finally breaking his silence. "Funny, that was going to be my next offer, back when you were pregnant. If you still didn't know what to do, I was going suggest we get married, that would have solved the problem."

His words struck a deep cord within her. She remembered how she had thought about that herself, had hoped for it, and pushed it out of her mind. It also reminded her of what she had lost. She sat up, knees drawn up to her chest, hugging them, one thumbnail between her teeth, lost in thought. If he was willing to marry her back then, it meant he really did care for her. She wanted him more now than ever, now she knew she was right; they belonged to each other. She felt the mattress shift as he sat up, then his arm was around her shoulders.

"Are you all right? Did I say something wrong?"

"No," she replied curiously, "no, actually you said everything right. Did you mean it?"

"I did."

"Still feel that way? The truth."

"I do."

"And where does that leave us? What are your thoughts?"

"You said it," he replied after a pause, "we belong to each other. It seems true enough. I guess we haven't any choice."

"Whether you realized it or not, I just proposed to you and 'Guess we haven't any choice' is a pretty lame answer. I don't want to feel like I forced you into something."

"Taking another guilt trip? Ellen, you seem to have a habit of taking the blame for everything that happens. You didn't talk me into anything; you made me aware of some things, and I agree with you. That's all, my choice."

She thought for a moment. Of course he was right. She blamed herself for the affair with Ted, for getting pregnant, for miscarrying, for stressing John to the point of a heart attack, and now for trying to talk him into a relationship. It was a bad habit, a lifelong habit; take responsibility for everything unpleasant and for nothing good. She had to stop, stop now. She was entitled to some unfettered happiness.

"So, where does that leave us? I want to hear what you think. So far you've kind of said what I think." She looked at him waiting for an answer.

"Do you want to get married?" Then he quickly corrected himself. "No, I said it wrong, let me rephrase that. I want us to get married." As she looked at him, a small smile replaced her somber look.

"Why?"

"You want to hear the words, don't you?" She nodded her head rapidly, playfully, her smile widening. "I saw you when you were vulnerable, and I found it charming. I saw an inner strength in you when you were willing to take it on alone and I found it admirable. I saw your caring and generous side when you rallied to me after the heart attack and I found it reassuring. You were kind and loving. And you're right, you fixed me. If we hadn't gone to bed together, I'd still be worrying about my heart. Instead, I'm worrying about how to convince you that I've fallen in love with you. Which I have, incidentally."

"Well," she looked at him curiously, raising her eyebrows, "it seems, my love, you can be quite eloquent when you want to be."

With that, she leaned over and kissed him tenderly. Then, inexplicably she started to cry.

"What?" there was concern in his voice, "Why're you crying?"

"I'm OK, I'm just an emotional girl. Something you'll have to get used to." Then she looked at him and smiled, cheeks wet with tears. "I always cry at weddings."

"So this was our wedding?" he asked lightheartedly.

"Yeah, yes it is. We can have a formal one later, I'd like that. But we are a couple from here on, at least to me. The things we've said here are better than any wedding vows that were ever written. We both love each other, that's all we need."

They lay back down snuggled together. Ellen thought of all that had gone on in the last year. It started with Ted coming over to help her move some furniture. She remembered it all; the affair, the pregnancy, the tragic miscarriage, the shock of his heart attack. It was all there; the shock, the grief, the guilt, the depression, the fear and humiliation, the whole gauntlet of bad emotions. But they had come through it; they came through it together, one helping the other and vice-versa. Together they would be able to deal with anything else life could throw at them from here on out. Together, she thought to herself, what a wonderful word.