Lustful Memoirs
By: Gina - gina@basic-nstynct.com
EpilogueThe waiting room is filled to capacity, anxious eyes stare out of exhausted visages. Most, like us, have been occupying this room since the wee hours of the morning. I had been asleep, my body curled into my husbands, when the phone rang. Silently cursing it, I moved out of his grasp, he didn't stir. Reaching over him, I wondered yet again as to why the phone was on his side of the bed. Never in the four years since we married had he ever reached to answer it. All along I’ve suspected that it was part of his plan to have me hover over him, enabling his hands to caress me as I attempted to carry out conversations. Thus ending more telephone calls that way than I can remember. But on this night, he didn’t stir, not when the shrill sound pierced the quiet night, and not when my weight pressed against him as I said hello.
It was my brother in law's voice that greeted me, full of anxiousness and panic. "Brenda's...going to have...we are on our way...the hospital." His words were issued in a rapid fire staccato muffled by the cell phone's connection, garbled by his overwhelming emotions.
I took a deep breath, with the hope of infusing him with my tranquility through the tenuous connection. "Okay, JC, take a deep breath for me, and calm down." I listened carefully as he tried valiantly to do as I asked, before I continued. "Everything's going to be okay, don't worry, just get my sister, my new nephew, and yourself to the hospital safely. Justin and I will take care of everything else."
I heard him draw another deep breath, before he sighed a worried okay and a short good bye. Replacing the phone on the cradle, I looked down at the form still soundly asleep below me. Dropping my lips to his chin, I kissed him, first there and then higher on his mouth. A silent smile formed along his lips as he returned my kiss. His eyes opened, droopy with sleep.
"Who was on the phone?" he asked, merely as a courtesy. His true interests apparent as he pulled me down atop him, his lips skating across my forehead, and down my cheek.
"It was JC." As the sound of his best friend's name entered his ears, I could feel him truly awaken.
"Is it Brenda?" He asked, the same anticipation echoing in his voice that had already set in motion the thunderous pounding of my heart against my ribs."It is."
Continuing to hold me against him, he rose to a sitting position. "We have things to do." He informed me, as if I wasn’t already aware and mentally ticking off the items as the moments passed.
"Kiss me again, and then we'll get started." I replied, and he willingly complied.
Time passed and duties called before I was able to see him again. We were in the car on our way to the hospital. Family and friends had been notified, the nanny awakened so that she could watch over the twins. I watched as he maneuvered the car, his deep blue eyes glued to the road in front of him, his strong hands grasping the steering wheel. The muscles in his legs clenched and released as he moved his foot from gas to brake, his driving so different than only a few short years before. He’s no longer the speed demon in the fancy sports car he was before the children were born. No, now my husband‘s cherished mode of transportation is a sensible sports utility vehicle, two child seats on permanent display in the back. His fingers tapped along with the tune on the radio, the only sound made. Many moments pass like this between us, space and time filled with only external sounds, none coming from us. It is these times when he and I communicate the best. On this night, I was able to tell without thought, only observing the way his lips were captured between his teeth, and the way he was breathing that anxiousness filled him. I'm was sure that my body told him the same.
He parked the car, coming around to my side as he always does to open my door, a custom that neither of us ever gives a second thought, something that started on our very first date. The routine he’d begun then has never varied and he made no exception this night. He opened my door, stole a kiss, and took my hand in his, helping me from the car. Our hands remained entwined as we made the journey into the hospital. He led the way through the maze of hallways and corridors, a familiar journey for him. Our twins, born four years prior, spent almost a month in the hospital nursery. They’d arrived a few months early. It was a tense time, but one that we had survived together, day after day, hand in hand, until they had grown strong enough that we had been allowed to take them home. The memories seem as if yesterday. Their first night in the nursery, Justin and I had stayed and watched them sleep. Sometime after three, I had turned to him, finding him with tear filled eyes. I pulled him to me, his head resting against my chest I let him cry. As his sobbing subsided, I lifted his face to mine so that I could stare into his eyes. "I know why they did this." I had told him, referring to our children's eagerness to be born.
He smiled then, the sweet, childlike beam that had over the years become mine alone. "You do?" He had asked.
I returned his smile as I answered. "They couldn't wait to be held by their daddy." He’d laughed at that, and as he turned back to face our new beautiful, tiny babies, he kept the look of joy that was quick to become his permanent visage in regards to our children.
Allowing myself to think back to that time, I think about our relationship. It's always been that way between us, he, my pillar of strength when I don't have an ounce of my own remaining. I, becoming his when he so desperately needs it. It's not a spoken agreement or a set custom, just something that we have adapted into. It's one of the many things that make our relationship so special, both to us, and the myriad of people that surround us.
Coming into the familiar waiting room in the obstetrics ward, I was awash with memories, our many nights spent holding each other. My love for the man that continued to tightly hold my hand, almost seemed to bubble up inside me, too much to contain pouring out of me in everything that we do. It's one of the reasons for the career I have now. A career so different than the one I had when I met my husband. It happened one night shortly after we decided, or I should say, shortly after I decided that there wasn't a future without him in it. It was something that he already knew. It was something that took me a little while to figure out and as always he had let me find the conclusion in my own time, in my own way. But with his constant presence and a little help from the new father to be, it all finally became clear to me. It was a warm, humid, late summer night. He and I sat together by the lake outside of his house, content as always, in the midst of silence surrounding us, enjoying each other's company. It had been rare in those days to have a free night like that, he, always so busy with his career, travelling, recording, doing what he loved. I had been happy just being his girlfriend and supporting his dreams, his aspirations and his every endeavor. But, I had started to get restless, wanting to do something with the love he infused me with, the myriad of emotions he’d released in me. I approached the subject with trepidation. I didn't know how he would react to my not wanting to tour with him anymore, with my wanting to forge ahead with my own life. As with everything else, I hadn’t needed to worry. I told him about my plans, to build the camp for runaway teenagers, to give to them what hadn't been given to me, so that they wouldn't have to go to the lengths I had to go through to find happiness. His face became neutral as the words had rushed unheeded from my lips in my attempt to inform and explain all in the same breath. All emotion left his face as I had said the words. Nausea gripped at my stomach as I expected him to laugh at my dreams, to call me a fool, for him to tell me that all I could ever do with my life was to be his girlfriend. That, yeah, I had walked across the stage and been awarded my college diploma but with my background, with no experience, how in the hell did I ever think I would be able to start this camp.
The reaction I was expecting and bracing my heart against never came. The blank expression morphed into to one of pride, his mouth parted in smile, revealing his perfect teeth.
"Blake, I can't think of anyone that would be more perfect." Those were his only words, before he dragged me home that evening, calling his lawyer, and a local real estate agent. We needed land, we needed licensing, we needed this, and that. My head had spun out of control as he rattled off plans, as he dove headfirst into my dreams, supporting me as I had supported him.
Later that night, as we readied for bed, he had stopped, suddenly unsure. His teeth clamped over his bottom lip, not in thought, not in happiness, not in bashful self-consciousness, but in unease. An emotion that hadn’t been spoken, but that I could, even then, read, unmistakably across his face.
"Justin, what is it?" I questioned him.
"I'm sorry," he had stated, his voice quiet, the sound of his tears rising in his throat clearly audible in my ears. My brow creased in confusion. What in the world could he have to be sorry about? For what reason did he feel this need to apologize?
"Baby, tell me what it is."
"I took over, didn't I? This was your idea, your dream, your aspiration, your plan, and I just reached in and took over."
The worry that had clouded my vision eased. I went to him, wrapped him in my arms. "Oh, Justin, do you not see how happy you made me today? How much inspiration you have given me? The gift, that not only do you believe that I can do this, but that you want to be a part of it. I can't think of a better way that you could have reacted."
"Really?" He’d replied, his face perking up, much like a puppy’s, being petted after a scolding, only there was no scolding to be done here.
"Yes, really, silly." He had smiled fully then, lifting me into his arms and taking me to bed. As we drifted off to sleep, I whispered to him, "I want you to be a part of everything that I do."
Not sure that he had heard, I reached and turned off the light, throwing the room around us into darkness. Closing my eyes, resting my head against his chest, I’d felt him take a deep breath and knew that he was still awake.
"Blake," he’d whispered, "I want you to be a part of everything that I do, too. I support you and you support me, that's just the way it is."
"Yes, Justin, just the way it is." I sighed my response, a sigh of contentment, knowing and feeling comfortable that the words were the truth.
He shifted below me, I felt him reach for something, but had no idea what it could be.
He settled down again, I, remained unsure of what he was up to.
"Blake," his voice was quiet, "can you turn the light back on?"
Still uncertain of what might be going through his mind, I did as he asked, and as I turned back to face him, I’d found tears clinging to his lower lashes, a diamond solitaire held out to me in his right hand.
"I wanted it to be more special, grandiose, splendid. But, I can't wait another moment. Blake, will you share my life with me?"
It was then my turn to cry, and cry I did, for hours, unable to utter the words to tell him yes. He’d held me through it, smoothing my hair, caressing my back, holding my hand. As my sobbing lessened, he’d grinned at me, his own face marred, but perfect, with wet trails.
"I hope that's a yes."
"It is," I’d whispered, as he slid the ring, that I had forgotten in that moment when my heart was overwhelmed to the point of bursting with love, down my finger.
Caught up in my memories, I could hear him clear his throat, pulling my thoughts and my attentions back to the present.
"Stop thinking about me," he said. ‘He always knows,’ I thought. "We're supposed to be thinking about JC and Brenda."
"So we are." I replied, mirroring his grin.
Hours have passed since we said those words. Friends and family have trickled in, filling the once empty waiting room. Joey arrived with Kelly, having burned his little black book, two years prior he now proudly displays his gold wedding band, and talks endlessly about his children to whoever will listen.
Lance entered, his hand firmly ensconced in Jen's. He’d been the first to marry, proposing while Justin and I were still trying to figure out what we meant to each other. The couple remains childless, although, lately, Jen's been looking through the multitude of baby catalogs with more than an off hand interest. We suspect an announcement will be made in the not too distant future, as soon as JC and Brenda's baby makes an appearance.
Chris arrived alone, but not quietly. A pointed cardboard hat, displaying the words, 'it's a boy,' perched atop his head, a bag of blue bubble gum cigars in his hand. A noisemaker in his mouth, which he continuously used until the nurse came and told him to knock it off. He eventually complied, but not before he got her to admit that he was cute. She gave in, some of us firmly believing only to get him to stop the offensive noise. Chris, the only single one remaining, is the consummate bachelor, happy to spoil the children of his friends, to help out at the camp, and to date women until he grows bored of them or until they grow sick of him. Recently, however, we are beginning to think that he's met his match. Elizabeth, the new camp counselor seems to be his equal, dishing it out to him as equally as he does to her. He's always said that it would be a cold day in hell before he settled down. We laugh and tell him that we think Lizzy has a snow blower just the right size.
My and Brenda's mother is the last to arrive, Brenda's daughter in tow, having had to make sure everything was settled at the camp before she could leave. Besides, she informs us, she knows that baby isn't making an appearance before morning. Boys are stubborn she says, and we all laugh.
She works at the camp, lives there, helping out in any way she can. The kids love her. They call her Grams, and huddle around the kitchen whenever she bakes. Some Saturdays she can't get the cookies on the plate, the teenagers eating them as soon as they come off the pan. It's become her way of life. As it has for all of us. Chas-Lake, as the camp is known, sits on 25 acres of rambling hills. There's a massive main house, with twenty bedrooms each one occupied by a teenager that the world has labeled as 'troubled.' That we have labeled as 'needing love.'
Off of the main house are several buildings, one encompasses office space, another an indoor pool and physical fitness center, another the basketball and tennis courts, the final building contains the music studio. Brenda and I run the camp, though I've been doing most of it myself recently, as Brenda's stomach had become too big to be comfortable to carry around for extended periods of time. Our mother is always lending her very capable hands and we have a staff of about twenty. The five guys, who to this day can be collectively called Nsync, offer their assistance as much as they can, but their schedules limit their time. It is a treat when they are home, that the teenagers look forward to.
JC can be found in the studio, surrounded by some of the camp's residents. They will sit for hours, some playing the piano, and taking their turns on the drums and the guitars. JC's patient hand guiding them, and teaching them.
Justin is normally on the basketball court. What a delight it is to him to have so many willing participants to play ball with. And some of them even offer stiff competition. I would almost say that some of them are better than he, but those aren't words I would admit in his presence.
The camp is full of things to do. There are counselors, and teachers. It's a place for learning and for loving. The teens that come to stay with us are eventually reunited with their families. However, they are always a part of ours, staying in touch with letters, and email, the occasional telephone call and a rare visit. These teenagers that were once doing poorly in school, in trouble with the law, dipping into seedier things like drugs and prostitution, leave our camp and become contributing parts of society. Not every story has a happy ending, but enough of them conclude thus so that we know we are making a difference. The sense of satisfaction and delight brought to all those involved could never be explained by mere words.
Justin squeezes my hand, knowing instinctively what I'm thinking about. I glance at him, he smiles at me, then winks, causing me to giggle. Leaning over, I kiss his cheek, whispering I love you to him as I come to sit fully back in my chair. The room is a buzz with noise, several stories being told at the same time, laughter and joy filling the cramped space. The opening of the door quiets the room. JC stands at the threshold, looking no worse for wear in his green hospital scrubs.
Everyone rushes to him. Justin and I remain in our seats, the news will come soon enough, we know just by looking at him that things went well and that Brenda and the baby are doing fine. That's the word that travels throughout the room, a healthy baby boy, ten fingers, ten toes, a hearty cry, 7 pounds 2 ounces, born at 6:12AM. Mom was right, boys are stubborn.
Eventually, Justin and I approach him. Justin wrapping JC in his arms and congratulating him. He's in a hurry to get back to his family. But before he leaves, he approaches my mother. Pamela, Brenda's daughter sits on her lap. He holds his hand out to the little girl, she grasps it firmly, without hesitation.
"Do you want to go see mommy and your new brother?"
Her sparkling blue eyes light up the room as she grabs his hand, "Yes, daddy, I do."
The day has passed. Brenda is resting comfortably in her room, exhausted by the nine months leading to this moment. JC and Pamela sit with her. I stand along a windowed wall, peering down at their little boy. He sleeps quietly in the bassinet, looking so much like his father. Tears streak down my face, tears of joy and happiness, the only type of tears I seem to muster lately. I see him approach, before I feel him, before he alerts me to his presence. His arms come around my waist, enveloping me in the safety of his embrace.
"You're beautiful." He whispers in my ear.
"He's beautiful." I reply.
Resting his chin on my shoulder, "Yes, he is," he says.
He turns me in the circle of his arms, his lips meeting mine and I lose myself in his kiss. Pulling away slightly, my eyes meet his.
"You know what today has made me think, Blake?"
"I know, I always know what you are thinking. You are thinking about our children, our love, our big, extended family. All the same thoughts I was having."
"Yes, all of that, but there was another too, maybe one you weren't thinking about."
"I doubt that, Timberlake, I always know what you're thinking."
"Maybe not this time."
"Okay, fine, what is it?" I ask, enjoying the playful, yet heartfelt banter being exchanged between us.
"Okay, Mrs. Timberlake, I was thinking that maybe it's time for us to add to our family."
"And you don't think I was thinking that."
"Well, I don't know, really. We haven't talked about it."
"Do we ever have to talk for me to know what you're contemplating in that head of yours. By now you ought to know..." I let my words hang before continuing, "I'm way ahead of you." I finish, a glimmer in my eye as I wink at him.
His face falls as he realizes what my words, what my expression is telling him. He's speechless, and I'm comfortable with his reaction, because we don't need to talk anyway. It's never been about our words, it's always been about our hearts, and they speak to each other without our mouths ever having to move.