Sing

CHAPTER 12.

MONICA

I pulled a last-minute brunch shift, which was such a relief I think I giggled all the way through it. I’d played City of Dis with Brad until midnight, so I was tired, which made my punchier. The game was all-encompassing. He’d started me on the eighth circle, where he was, and we could cycle around to see if I’d get caught in the trap of my own invisible sins. We solved puzzles, interacted with hellions, eaten virtual food and imbibed radioactive- colored drinks that made the screens blurry and shaky. The game was alternately frightening, sweet, intense, dramatic and funny. I actually forgot about Jonathan for seconds at a time.

The call from Debbie in the morning was like the clouds opening up to heavenly light. I texted Margie that I wouldn’t be in to see Jonathan until after my shift. She responded right away.

—He looks better. Already demanding your presence. I told him to hold his horses.—

—Do NOT tell him I need the money you’ll give him another heart attack—

At break time, I rummaged through my bag for my phone and found my mother had called me back. Funny how I’d decided to forget all about that. Not funny ha-ha funny, but funny you-are-a-pussy funny. I had ten minutes left of break, which meant there was a time limit to how long this pain could last.

I stood in front of my locker and dialed my mother’s number. Eight minutes of break left.

“Hello?” Amazing how her voice could sound so familiar and so strange at the same time.

“Hi, Mom. It’s me. I’ve been calling.”

“Are you all right?”

She broadcast panic, and the rawness of her emotion sent a welling in my chest and brought moisture to my eyes. I hadn’t shed a tear of stress or worry over Jonathan because I wanted to be strong. I didn’t want to show weakness in front of his family. They were all so freaking stoic. But with my mother’s tone of voice telling me that Hi, Mom. It’s me, was enough to panic her, I almost lost my shit.

And I remembered my Mom then. The things that put me over the edge. The drama. The constant, overwhelming emotional storms. It was one such storm that had led her to fling names at Kevin and me, sending me out the door permanently, with my viola forgotten in his trunk.

“I’m fine. I’m sorry I missed the rent twice.”

Silence.

“Mom?”

Sigh.

“I got an auction notice on the door.”

“Oh, I’ve been meaning to call you.” I heard the rustle of sheets on the other side of the line. I looked at my watch. It was noon and to all indications, she was still in bed. Fuck. “It wasn’t just that. There were other things. I talked to the bank. They don’t care about your problems. All they care about is money.”

“They’re banks, Mom.” I rubbed my eyes. “How long has it been since you paid the mortgage?”

“Oh, I don’t know. I should ask how you are.”

“It’s complicated. I have only a minute left. What should I do about the auction? Should I move?”

“If you want.”

“Ok, then. I’d better get going.”

“Can you come up some time? I’d like to see you.”

I cringed. I didn’t want to see her. In one sense, I knew something bad was going on out there, and whether I’d spoken to her in years or not, I was obligated to at least figure out why she wasn’t paying the mortgage. But another responsibility was the last thing I needed.

“Sure.” I tried to remove the dread from my voice.

“I’m free most days. Today, even.”

“I’ll let you know.”

In typical Los Angeles fashion, I left the call without making any definitive plans.

CHAPTER 13.

MONICA

“I hate you seeing me like this.” Jonathan’s voice had a little less gravel, but he sounded as if the effort involved in speaking was unbearable.

“Then you shouldn’t let me in here.” I wasn’t allowed to sit on the edge of the bed, so I sat in the chair next to him and put my elbows on the railing.

“I need you. Deal with it.”

“Ok, well, I’m not going anywhere.”

“You look thinner.”

“These are my skinny pants. You like them?” I was sitting. He couldn’t even see my pants.

“I can see your cheekbones.”

I touched his face, letting my thumb stroke the stubble on his chin, brushing his lip, dry yet yielding under my touch. Was it wrong to want him even there? In that horrible place with him cut open? Was it wrong to want his arms around me when he could barely lift them? I wasn’t feeling lustful, but greedy, ravenous, ardent.

He took my hand away and held it. Obviously, he wasn’t that weak.

“Let me ask you a question,” I said. “If I was in a hospital bed for a week waiting for open heart surgery, how much would you eat? How well would you sleep? I’m not complaining, I’m just saying, don’t try and deflect away from what you need by making yourself worry about me. I’m fine.”

“When I can get up—“

“You can give me the spanking I so richly deserve. Until then, I’ll be the one doing all the legwork around here.”

“Tell me about it.”

“Oh, I will.”

There’s a chair in your bedroom.

It has red leather cushions on the seat, back and arms. It looks antique and probably is, now that I’m thinking of it. You tied my ankles to the place where the arms met the seat. You tied me gently, stroking between my thighs, kissing my legs, but in the end, I’m naked and spread eagled, tied to your antique chair. Though your hands were gentle, the binds are tight. I can’t move.

Then you tied my hands above my head, looping the leather straps around the sconce above me. You kiss my breasts until my nipples are so hard they’re the size of dimes. You make sure I feel safe and loved. You don’t want me to be scared. I’m not scared. I’m so turned on I’m pretty sure I’d come if you breathed on me.

Then you undress. You do it slowly. Not sexy and camp. But methodical. You put your things away, spend a minute in the bathroom. You don’t let me speak. You threaten to gag me if I make another joke. You need control over me. This is how you feel safe.

So I wait. My cunt is getting wetter every second. I feel it dripping down the crack of my ass. Then you’re naked, and magnificent. Jonathan, darling you are utterly spectacular. But you don’t want to hear that.

You look at me. Your eyes eat me alive. I feel you between my legs, even though you’re half a room away. If I could draw you closer with my desire, you’d be on me. I’m hungry for you.

You step toward me and put your hands on the back of the chair, leaning over it. My arms stretch above me. You put the tip of your tongue inside my elbow, then draw your tongue down, until your lips touch my breast. You circle my nipple with your tongue, caressing it with your lips. It’s so hard. Pointing up like it wants to be millimeters closer to you. You kiss, making it wet, then release. I feel the cold air on it. It’s so