“Let me get undressed and I’ll call you when I’m done so you can help me in there, okay?”
“Sure,” he said and then walked out. The combination of the wine and pain meds was kicking in. Will was being perfect and respectful, but I wasn’t going to parade around naked with my foot in a cast. I wrapped a towel around myself and called him back in.
“Okay, I’ll lift you over and just leave your foot out until I can get something underneath it.” Once I was standing with one foot in the bath, he positioned towels on the side of the tub. “Mia, you’re going to have to let me see you so I can help you lie back, or are you going to take a bath with that towel wrapped around yourself?” he said with a smirk.
“No, I can do it myself. Just turn around for a sec.” He shook his head and sighed. I tossed the towel and then slowly sat down, holding my broken foot out of the water. I thought it must have been some kind of amazing Olympic feat considering how much work it was to sit while suspending one leg in the air. Once I was in, I rested my head back on a towel and sank into the water, positioning my cast on another rolled-up towel propped on the side of the tub. The water felt heavenly and I luxuriated in the bubbles. “I’m in.”
When he turned around I watched him drink me in slowly. Although the bubbles mostly covered me, I realized my position was insanely erotic with my legs open that way, lying back. The warm water consumed me and I know I must have been glassy-eyed from the meds. I studied his beautiful face as he stood there paralyzed; he was listening to God.
“Will?”
“Yeah?” he whispered.
“Do you want to get your guitar and play me something?’
“Sure… okay.” He turned on his heel and walked out. When he came back he had our wine glasses and his acoustic guitar. He never met my gaze; he just seemed undaunted. He handed me the glass and I took sip and set it on the side of the tub. As soon as he hopped up on the counter, he started strumming away. He played a long intro and then began singing the words to Van Morrison’s “Sweet Thing.” I watched him intently. He closed his eyes and let each word linger in the exquisite tone of his voice. His face was so determined and his hands were so precise. I was feeling woozy and aroused. I made sure Will’s eyes were closed and then I closed mine and let my hand travel down my body as the sound of Will’s voice resonated everywhere in me. I moved in and around myself, imagining Will’s perfect hands on me as he sang the words:
And you shall take me strongly in your arms again
And I will not remember that I even felt the pain
And we shall walk and talk in gardens all misty and wet with rain
And I will never, never, never grow so old again
Oh sweet thing, sweet thing oh, my, my, my, my, sweet thing
I felt the climbing, pulsing ache. With my other hand I grabbed at my breast, clenching my nipple between my fingers. Will’s voice was peaking and falling so beautifully and I felt the intense moment between my ears and down my spine and between my legs. I arched my back and pressed deeply into myself with steady pressure. As I came, I opened my mouth wide, trying desperately to stifle the breathy “Ahh” that spilled out. I felt my body curved slightly above the water. I sank back down, opened my eyes, and glanced over to Will, who had stopped singing. He continued strumming the guitar as he gaped at me, his lips slightly parted. And then with curiosity in his eyes, his mouth curled into the most sincere, small smile. It was like his expression said I don’t judge you, I want you to feel good, and then he whispered, “Hey, beautiful.”
“Hey,” I said, voice raspy. It was a moment where I thought I should feel embarrassed, but I didn’t. What Will had witnessed should have made me feel like the going-to-school-in-your-pajamas dream does. You know, when you’re a teenager and it feels like all eyes are on you; you’re the center of the universe. Then you grow up and realize it would have been awesome to go to school in your pajamas and the only reason why you had those dreams in the first place was because you went to school with a couple of ass**les who would make it their goal in life to ruin you over wearing your Hello Kitty nightgown to biology class? That is what I realized in that moment. I wasn’t embarrassed that Will had witnessed such a private moment, because he didn’t make me feel embarrassed about it. Will was secure enough with himself to respect a moment that was so raw and personal.
Anyway, maybe I wanted Will to see, or maybe the wine and Vicodin wasn’t such a good idea.
“Are you ready to get out?”
“Yes.” When he walked toward me, I reached my hand out and let him pull me to my feet. He only let me stand there exposed for a second before wrapping a towel around me. After he lifted me out, I hopped on my good foot to lean against the counter.
“Do you want me to grab you some clothes?”
I looked around and spotted one of Will’s white V-neck T-shirts lying over the towel rack. “Can you hand me that shirt?”
He looked back, confused, but he grabbed it anyway and smelled it. Shrugging his shoulders, he said, “Smells fine, I guess.” I pulled the T-shirt over my head and then shimmied the towel out from underneath. The shirt fit like a dress and smelled like Will. I inhaled deeply.
“Ready?” he said. I nodded. He grabbed me around the waist and hitched me up a little on my good side to help me hop to my bedroom.
It was a warm evening; the windows in the apartment were open, letting in a light breeze. The warmth and the street noise reminded me of the summers with my father. I lay back on my bed, propping my head and foot up on pillows while Will perused a stack of CDs sitting on my dresser. He held up the self-titled CD from the band Shine, a post-progressive rock group from Detroit. My friend who worked in a music store in Ann Arbor had recommended the CD years ago. It had become one of those albums that I kept close by. I would forget about it for months and then pick it up and fall in love all over again.