Broken. Megan Hart
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you guys coming over for Dad’s birthday?”
“I’ll be there.” I’d already arranged for Dennis to be available on Saturday for a few hours.
“Just you? Not Adam, too?”
Sisters always know just how to push. “If he wants to, Katie, but I don’t know how he’ll feel.”
She didn’t call me on the lie. I already knew Adam wouldn’t want to go to my parents’ house. He didn’t ever want to go anywhere anymore, even though he could.
“I could come over there and watch a movie, if you can’t go out. I just need to get out of the house, Sadie, you can’t even imagine.”
When I didn’t reply, she stopped, maybe embarrassed. “Hey, if you can’t, that’s okay.”
A good big sister would have been there for Katie. I wanted to be the good big sister I’d always tried to be, but in the end the thought of it was simply too daunting.
“Maybe next week, okay?”
“Sure. Fine. Whatever. I’ll talk to you later.”
I wanted to be there for Katie, the way I always had. I wanted to listen to her troubles and offer advice. Make a difference. Do the right thing. I wanted to help her the way I helped my patients, but when it came right down to it, I couldn’t. I was afraid.
Not that I couldn’t help her, because I was pretty sure she just needed a compassionate ear. I was afraid listening to my sister’s woes would prompt me to reveal my own, and I couldn’t risk it. Putting a voice to my feelings, saying aloud the thoughts that gnawed daily at my conscience, would make them real in a way I was certain I didn’t want them to be.
I’d spent the past four years wearing a brave face, convincing myself by convincing everyone around me that I was fine. That we were fine, Adam and I, as fine was we could be. If I didn’t have that façade, I wasn’t sure what I would have.
Joe was right. It’s easier to keep being what you are, even if the only person who expects you to be it is yourself.
Adam and I didn’t share a heart-shaped meatloaf. Mrs. Lapp cooked a pot roast and potatoes in butter and parsley, which I ate in his room with him at a table lit by candlelight. I cut his food into tiny pieces and fed it to him, bite by bite.
“Happy Valentine’s Day.” His smile was as bright and charming as he could make it. The smile I’d fallen in love with.
I toasted him with champagne in a glass that had been a wedding gift. We talked about our day. About Dennis, who’d left earlier for a big Valentine’s Day party at the Rainbow.
“I told him not to bother coming home early.” Adam wiggled his eyebrows. “Told him I had big plans.”
“Oh, really.” I settled back in my chair. Champagne had made me giddy. Lighter. “You think so, huh?”
“Oh, I know so.” He looked toward the wardrobe in the corner.
I’d found it at a flea market, covered in dust and cobwebs, the handles broken and the door off its hinges. I’d fixed the door, polished the wood and replaced the broken handles with authentic ones I’d bought from an online auction. It was my favorite piece from our bedroom suite and had once contained my frilly lingerie and pajamas. Now medical supplies filled the drawers.
“Look in there.” He jerked his chin, the extent of his ability to gesture.
I got up and crossed to it, giving him a backward glance. “Adam? What did you do?”
“Just look and see.”
I opened the door. A box wrapped in red foil waited for me. I lifted it out, my heart thumping as fast as it had the first time he’d handed me such a gift. It was large but not heavy, and a giggle bubbled out of my throat.
“What is it?”
“Open it.”
I hesitated, looking toward him. He looked hopeful and a bit mischievous. I’d seen that combination in him before. He’d been on one knee at the time, a much smaller box in his hand.
All at once, I was afraid to open the package, afraid to see what my husband had bought for me. I caressed the smooth wrapping. It felt cool under my fingertips, and slippery.
“Open it, Sadie.”
I took the box back to my chair and fussed with the table, pushing it out of the way so I could sit and hold the box upon my lap. It weighed far heavier on my legs than it had in my hands.
“C’mon.”
I couldn’t put aside his eagerness any longer. I slid a fingernail beneath the taped edge and the paper fell away. The box under it was plain and white, without markings. I lifted the lid.
“Oh, Adam.”
He laughed. “Do you like it?”
I lifted the sheer red fabric and held it to my chest. I wanted to cry but didn’t. I forced a dry tone.
“Who’d you buy this for, you or me?”
“Are you kidding? They don’t make those in my size.” He grinned and raised the bed a bit higher with the remote control. “Stand up. Put it on.”
I stood. The baby-doll nightie had thin straps and a pair of matching thong panties. It wasn’t something I’d have chosen for myself, but I could see the appeal.
“Where did you get this?” A vision of Adam sending Dennis on the errand heated my cheeks.
“I ordered it online. Dennis wrapped it for me, but don’t worry, he didn’t see what was in the box. I was worried it might not be what I ordered but I knew you wouldn’t want him to check it out.”
“Is it what you ordered?” I held it up, turning it from side to side.
“Oh, hell yes.”
We hadn’t made love in a long time. Nearly a year, as a matter of fact, the last time prompted by Valentine’s Day. It had ended badly, with both of us in tears. I wondered, now, what had prompted this effort and knew it was the man in the store I’d told Adam about.
“Put it on.” Adam’s voice was hoarse with a familiar longing, and I couldn’t deny him.
I’d been naked in front of him thousands of times. In the dark, in the light. He’d seen me change a tampon, use the toilet. Held my hair when I puked. And still, I hesitated to strip out of my clothes in front of him now.
“I’ll go into the bathroom.” I offered it hesitantly, uncertain, and to my relief he nodded.
“Yes. Do that.”
In the bathroom I avoided my reflection as I took off my clothes and laid them neatly on the chair. I held up the lingerie to my bare skin and shivered with sudden, fierce longing. When had I last worn something like this? Garments made to arouse? I favored the practicality of cotton panties and bras, serviceable underwear meant to cover, not entice.
I felt like a virgin again. I slipped the panties, no more than a triangle of lace held together by two straps, up my legs. The thong slipped between my buttocks, an odd but sensual sensation I wasn’t sure I liked. The lace covered my pubic hair while the straps crossed my hips, where the bones most definitely didn’t jut forth as they had on our wedding night.
“Sadie?”
“I’ll be right there!”
I pulled the gown over my head and adjusted the fit. It barely covered my breasts and split in the front to swing open as I moved. The hem hit me mid-thigh but provided no real coverage. The entire outfit had been designed to reveal and enhance, not conceal.
When I looked at last into the mirror, I saw my cheeks had flushed and my eyes sparkled. My nipples had gone tight beneath the nylon, and already the lace between my legs was rub-rubbing in a way