I watched Max and Camille saunter through the doorway, pushing and picking on each other. They both were dealing something I’m sure they didn’t expect to have to face so soon in their lives. I stood for a lengthy second before I turned up the stairs and climbed my way to Max’s room.
My legs felt heavy, my arms longer than they seemed. My fingers tightened around the doorknob as I pushed into the bedroom. Max’s aroma floated across my skin and roused my senses. Lavender with sultry pine swirled down my throat and settled just below my gut. I noticed the white dress shirt he wore earlier dangling off the top handle of his dresser and his black dress pants folded nicely on top, and in that instant, a moment of total freedom flooded my soul. It was as if I was already home with him, and comfort crowded out the fear of being without him. His words from before, purging any idea of being separated longer than three days, rang loud in my head. It was as if what he told me finally sunk in and my mind somehow decided to process it.
I reached out and let my fingers dance up to the collar of Max’s dress shirt. The cool, smooth fabric fueled my senses as I plucked it off the handle, closed my eyes, and pressed it against my nose. Unhurried, I inhaled every last remnant of Max in Aspen. The silky, refreshing fabric brushed against my lips, recreating every image of him pulling me tight against his chest. I hummed a low, relaxed sigh as I exhaled against his shirt, warming the fabric to match his body temperature. Moments measured by every inhale and exhale against his shirt were filled with the image of his smile, his eyes, and his arms and how they felt around me. I pulled Max’s dress shirt from my face, held it out, and looked at it as the image of him wearing it resonated in my mind.
Delicately, I hung his dress shirt back up on the handle of his dresser before I grabbed my suitcase and dragged it across to the high, black four-post bed. It was awkward and heavy as I tugged and hoisted it up onto his dark chocolate-colored down comforter. Trying to unzip it, I noticed the zipper was sluggish. Okay, so the pressure from the clumped-up clothes didn’t help. The way I’d stuffed everything in my suitcase when I left Nick’s house in a flurry came back to haunt me. What a complete mess. I just wanted to pull out the clothes I was going to wear home tomorrow on the plane. I started to rearrange the twisted clothes and small bags filled with my beauty supplies. Not that I’d been using much makeup lately.
I pulled out a few matching pieces and tried to muster some semblance of an outfit. Pretty soon there were jeans and pants matched with tops and sweaters spread across his bed. Next I folded them and organized everything like it was when I left the Bay Area. As I reached into the pocket of my suitcase to grab a pair of socks and panties to pair with the taupe tunic top and black pants I’d chosen for tomorrow, my fingers caught the straps of the special “pajamas” I’d brought to wear for Max.
It was my “first-time” lingerie. Joanie had helped me pick it out at Victoria Secret in the mall. Black, silky top with thin, baby-doll lace across the front edges down to where it swept open at my navel. I slipped my fingers through the lacey shoulder straps and held it up. My heart fell into my stomach as I realized I’d never had a chance to wear it for him. I wanted to see the look in his eyes when saw it for the first time. I longed to feel his fingers drag under the edges of the lace, the cool silkiness across my back as his warm palms pushed the fabric against either side of my spine. Pulling at the pocket on my suitcase, I looked in and saw the matching panties that went with the top—a black, lacey fabric g-string, with not much fabric or lace covering much of anything.
All of the expectations and ideas I’d had about my first time making love to Max became flighty hopes that vanished the moment we really became one. It was completely different than I’d expected, and even more intense than I could have imagined. As I gave myself entirely to the man I want to spend the rest of my life with, it was a point of healing. My thoughts suddenly shifted to us having sex downstairs in the bathroom…without a condom. The thing that was supposed to protect us, to keep us from being forced into decisions I was just too young to make. I felt my breathing become shallow and the back of my throat grow dry. Every thought in my head rang with the intention that I wasn’t going to let myself end up like Candi. Whatever it took, I wasn’t going to follow in my biological mother’s footsteps.
My head started to spin and I could feel myself become worked up over all the random images and thoughts targeting my mind. Luckily, my phone rang, giving me something else to think about. I looked at the screen and noticed it was Joanie. How did she know to call me? At least I knew she’d talk me off the ledge I’d just created for myself.