“Thank you for your thoughtfulness.” Because it seems idiotic to keep my robe on after I didn’t have it on all of last night, I take it off and tuck myself under the sheets, and he rolls over so that he’s spooning me.
“How are you feeling?” I ask.
“A little rough, but I’ll be okay.” Esben runs a hand through my hair, and we lie together quietly for a while. “Especially with you here like this.”
As difficult as it was to see Esben so upset, I do feel that our relationship has better balance now that I have been able to do something for him. From the day we met, I have been the fragile one, the one leaning on him constantly. Now, I understand that I am capable of letting him lean on me. I’m stronger than I knew.
Later, I bring him a cup of coffee, then another, and I wait until he’s awake enough to talk.
“Esben?”
“Yeah, baby?”
“What happened to Kerry . . . it’s why you haven’t had sex yet. And why you’re so careful with me.”
“Partly, yes. Look . . . I know that what happened to her was rape, not sex. Two very, very different things. Drastically different.” He drinks a little more coffee and gathers his thoughts. “I may be dying for us to have sex, sure, but I am going to be very attentive about what we’re doing together. It’s easy for girls, especially, to feel pressure to move faster than they want, because they think the guy will leave otherwise. I’m not that guy.” He sets down his cup and puts an arm around me.
“I know that. I really do. You’ve been so good and made me so comfortable. What Kerry went through? It’s horrible, Esben. It’s horrible. But, as you said, what happened to her and what’s happening with us are two entirely different things. I’m asking you, very directly, for something. I’m asking you for intimacy.” I turn in to face him, and I place my hand over his and move it under my top, guiding him across my stomach so that his touch radiates over my skin.
Esben begins kissing my shoulder, and I know he’s smiling when he says, “You are comfortable, aren’t you?”
I inch his hand a little higher. “I am.” So much so that I push him back onto the bed and tease my hand up his chest. “I want you out of this shirt.”
“You do?” he asks hesitantly.
I begin to lift up the fabric. My breathing has picked up, and I want to stop talking now. “Waist up, okay?” I manage to say. “No fabric between us. Just you and me.”
Immediately, Esben rolls me onto my back, his hand now caressing my skin. “Yes,” he says with heat and promise. “Yes.”
I tug up on his shirt. Hard. “Take this off. I want to see you.”
So, he does. And, later, mine comes off.
And then, even later, when Esben’s bare chest is pressed against mine and when his mouth is still exploring my skin, he whispers to me. “Allison,” he says, “you’re wonderful. You know that? Everything about you is wonderful.”
I ease his hand to my underwear, and, before he can say anything, I nod. “Yes, I’m sure.”
Despite our move up the spectrum, we both manage to make it to class. Somehow.
CHAPTER 21
CHRISTMAS WONDER
After being in a car for hours yesterday and then running errands all day today with Simon, it’s very nice to be curled up on the couch in Simon’s house in Brookline. My house. I have to start saying that. This is my house, too. The ride I got from Esben and Kerry took absolutely forever, because it was snowing and the roads were a mess. Simon texted me every fifteen minutes to make sure that I wasn’t dead, but I understand that he was nervous, especially once he found out that Esben’s car is not exactly new, nor equipped with all the safety features Simon would like. Even though the drive was a long one, I had fun with Esben and Kerry, and I’d been so looking forward to seeing Simon.
Our shopping trips today included filling two carts at the supermarket, because Simon has gourmet meals and plenty of baking planned. He’s promised to teach me some basics, and I’m just hoping to learn to make something edible. Then he took me to the mall and insisted on buying me new clothes, including a few special outfits for Christmas and New Year’s. Not only did I not protest, I enjoyed it. I enjoyed being treated to such nice things, and I enjoyed being with him. And I particularly enjoyed sneaking off and buying him a reindeer statue that he’d been admiring but didn’t buy for himself. His look of delight when I gave it to him made me smile, because I knew he would add this to his collection of holiday decorations that had taken over the house.
The constant Christmas music that played over the mall speakers didn’t bother me, the bustling crowds didn’t make me insane, and the peppermint hot chocolate we tried that tasted like liquid holiday didn’t conjure up childhood trauma. All new and welcome experiences. Simon did try very hard to get me to take my picture with Santa, but I drew the line there.
Right now, I am wrapped in a mahogany-colored chenille throw in the plush living room, while Simon swears in a most colorful manner as he tries to unknot strings of lights for the tree. Even though I know she’s unreachable, I text a selfie of me pouting to Steffi, because she’s not here, and then a picture of a frustrated-but-amusing Simon. Damn cruises and their unreliable Wi-Fi! This spell where we can’t talk or text is killing me, but I am happy for her high-seas dating adventure.
“Would you please let me help?” I have repeatedly offered to assist in this monstrous light-detangling task, but Simon keeps insisting I sit here with my cocoa and relax. “And I feel bad that you waited for me to decorate the tree. It’s already December nineteenth!”
“Of course I waited for you, silly. And I should have just bought some new lights while we were out today. But, at this point, I am in a battle that I have to win on my own.” Furiously, he shakes the bundle in his hands, and, suddenly, the tight ball comes apart. “Huh. That was weird.” He looks at me. “It’s a Christmas miracle!”
Playfully, I stick out my tongue at him. “It is not.”
“You being in the holiday spirit brought Christmas luck, then. How’s that?” The Santa hat he’s got on, paired with his bright-green shirt and red tie, is ridiculous in the most wonderful way. “Speaking of which, it’s nice to see you so happy about the holidays this year. Esben have anything to do with that?” he asks with a smile.
“Maybe,” I admit. “It’s not just about having a boyfriend, though. He’s made me see how much good is actually out there. How to move on from my past, I guess.” I pull the blanket around me more tightly. “I was kind of stuck there.”
“I know you were. It’s understandable. You’ve had a rough go of it.”
I watch him undo one of the last knots. “I’m sorry, Simon.”
He stops and looks up. “For what?”
“For not . . . for not being better.”
“Better? Better at what?”
“For not being a better daughter.”
He drops the lights and sits next to me on the couch. “Allison, don’t ever say that again.”
“Do you ever regret adopting me? Your boyfriend left you because of me. He wanted to adopt a cute little baby, not some pissy teenager.” Then I ask him something that I have never asked him before. “How did you even know about me? One day, I just heard that there was a potential adoptive father who wanted to meet me. Then you and I talked for an hour—I was probably boring and miserable to be around—but then I was told that you wanted me. I’ve never understood why.”