This is a continuation of the Life With Victor (LWV) series. You can catch up here if you have not been following along.

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I love you baby. Everything is going to be ok. I am here, I have you, I won’t ever let you go. It’s ok baby. Let it out, let it go. I’m here…

And he was there, every moment of every day. He even took time from work so I wouldn’t be alone. I honestly didn’t even realize, I was so caught up in my own little world, processing my thoughts, emotions. It is funny, in a really not so funny kind of way, how things from so long ago can affect one so deeply. It shook me to my core.

I don’t know how long we were there, in that field, me crashing and him supporting me while I did. The rain, unnoticed, had started at some point and had drenched us both. There are fuzzy memories of him leading me back to the rental house, undressing me, bathing me, and putting me to bed. There may have been some aspirin involved, or a sleeping aid of some sort, I don’t quite recall.

The next week would be filled with little more than fuzzy memories. Even the weeks at home following it were little more than what amounted to sleep walking, going through the motions. He went back to work and eventually, so had I.

We still hadn’t talked about it, but I knew. I knew ending up there was no coincidence. I never talked about my Mother, rarely ever speak of my family at all. How did he know that was the place? I had never told him about it, had I? Yet somehow, he knew not only the place but that I needed it. I needed to remember that moment, to bring it to the now, to let it go. It had been such a burden on my soul. It’s one of those things you don’t even realize until you actually do something about it. I was thankful he had led me there, still, I was pained.

When Victor came home from work today I greeted him with a cool drink, a hot meal, and a kiss. The first I had initiated since that day. He looked at me, concern still present, searching my face, my eyes, to see what was going on inside. I could see the question in his eyes, he wasn’t sure if I had begun to move forward or back to denial. He should have known denial was no longer an option. I smiled and nodded, my eyes closing for the briefest moment, and in that moment I was relieved of all the pain, the angst, the questions, the weight that had held me down for so long. It was magic. When I opened my eyes again I saw in him the recognition of that, the relief that spread almost instantly across his face.

He leaned down and kissed me gently, tentatively, still unsure if he should press further. I realized then just how hard it had been for him, watching me suffer and struggle and not being able to help in the ways he was used to. He could not force me to process more quickly. He could not beat it out of me. He could not control any of it. He was left helpless, at my mercy. Knowing he was doing what was best for me in the long term had left him in complete turmoil and unknown standing in the short term. How could I have not noticed? How could I have not seen the pain my pain was causing him?

I moved into him, into that safe warm place under his chin and against his chest. I held him. I squeezed him. I stroked him. I told him I loved him. I thanked him for doing that for me, for releasing me from a past that held me back for far too long. I told him it was the most loving, unselfish thing anyone had ever done for me. I told him I would never, could never, leave him. I told him he had my heart, that I was his alone and always would me.

He told me that he loved me more than he ever thought possible to love another human being. He told me that he would always do what was best for me. He told me I was forever his and he would be forever mine. We belong to each other, he said. Then he led me by the hand upstairs to our room and we made love, gently, tenderly, as if for the first time. There were no commands, no toys, no whips or gags or binding. There was no protocol, no Master, no little whore. There was just us.



I know no other way than this:
where I does not exist, nor you,
so close that your hand on my chest is my hand,
so close that your eyes close as I fall asleep.
~ Pablo Neruda