The Sound of Us

by Jen Samson

The driver steps out of the car and I—I—I just— Breathing hard, my chest burning, I come to a dead stop two feet away from the driver of Pepper’s dream car. Although I’m standing still and at a reasonable distance from him, it feels like I’ve been flung right into him. The pull to him is instant and shocking to my nervous system.

It’s Friday, after all. NO LUBE FRIDAYS, to be precise, and there are chores to be completed.

Fridays, as it happens to be today, are reserved for all-night fights and drunken sex without lube because real men took it straight.

When you’ve been stripped of every teenage dream of love and romance, every hope for a happy future, stripped of every shred of the person you once were and thought you’d become, all you have left are the splinters––deeply embedded reminders of everything you’ve lost even before you had a chance to have any of it.

No one had ever loved me the way Frank did, so big. Frank had loved me big. I’d been love bombed and I couldn’t get enough.

I’ve been given so much. How could I ask for more?

If mirrors and showers and linoleum floors could speak, they would tell tales of unstoppable tears and unspeakable anguish. Only the cascading waters from the showerhead truly understood the brokenness of my heart in those minutes taking us from Friday night into the dawn of Saturday.

On my boulder of shame, I contemplate all the ways I might die. How ungrateful I might seem to others if they knew. I’ve looked death straight in the eye when I was diagnosed with cancer. I should be grateful to have been given a second chance. Yet, here I am, wishing every day I could just close my eyes and never open them again.

I’m not sure what just happened, but there’s a curiosity here that feels . . . comforting. It’s new but not unwanted.

No, Frank. I like the way I look when you’re not around. I like the panties I hide from you. I like my big, fat cock when it’s not for you.

I follow his movements, uncaring about the fact that I’m openly staring at him. Unblinking, because I find the idea of missing even one millisecond of his face inconceivable.

For someone who’d just been hit as hard as he was just hit, there’s not a single tear in his eyes.

“That’s Axel.” His name warms me up inside. Putting a name to his sweet face sends my heart skittering.

He stole your light, Axel. You weren’t like this. Even when we thought you wouldn’t make it, even when we thought for sure you were on your last days, you were—you were fucking alive.

Everyone claps, and Axel stares at me from the crowd below. I return his gaze because I want him to know that I’m looking at him, too.

I wonder if he feels this invisible pull too. He looks as transfixed as I feel.

I keep the lights off so I can watch him. There’s no shame in the darkness.

Okay, LOVE this.

For two people, one of whom can't hear, and the other only starting to learn to sign, we ‘talk’ for hours.

Two weeks ago, I noticed the first bruise on his cheek, and that was when I decided I didn’t care that Axel was married.

It may look like Axel has ended something, but it feels like he’s started something. And if he’ll let me, I’ll be the homewrecker. I’ll be the bad guy as long as I can take away all this sadness he keeps inside him.

The very things I was beaten for in private were the things he praised me for in public.

Perhaps life is like that, too. No matter what, you just keep moving. Sometimes you trickle along, sometimes you flow with ease. Other times, you gush forward with the momentum of a storm.

If someone asked me what I would’ve given for just one moment of a tenderness like this, my answer would’ve been anything. I would have given anything.

The light of fidelity begins to dim as I fall into this liquid, silky darkness.

If anyone is to blame for my sin against God and my husband, it’s me. I caused it. I made the first move. Eli only shared his gentle soul with me, and I devoured it. And him.

There is no guilt. Fear exists, but not for what I’ve done. It’s for what Frank might do if he ever found out.

What I want is Axel. I’ll pursue him until his heart beats only for me. I will selfishly have him, one way or another. And my justification for all of it, all these thoughts so out of character for me, is that Frank Davis doesn’t deserve his husband.

How is it possible that this man, who cannot hear me, is now listening to me like no one else ever has?

I dip my head instead and sign you’re beautiful. I’ve never used my deafness to my advantage like this before, but fuck Frank. I tell Axel he’s beautiful right there in front of that deadbeat cunt of a husband.

He beams, and I fall in love with him immediately. It’s instant, and I don’t bother denying any of it. Last night, I was prepared to steal him away. This morning, I was prepared to steal his dog with the hope that he would follow. Now? I would burn everything to have him.

He slips his hand into mine, choosing me.

If the price for this one moment is death, then it’s a price I’m willing to pay because nothing, nothing I have ever experienced or ever dreamed of compares to how this man makes me feel.

He sends me over the edge and I’m falling, safe in his arms. Falling into this sin. Falling in love with him.

Thoughts of him consume me. Dreams of him hasten my sleep, pulling me into a kind of rest I haven’t had in months.

I shake my head. You’re beautiful, I sign. A smile teases the corner of his mouth. He drops his head.

I haven’t yet reached the place where Eli has become entwined with the words what if. Eli is always a now moment. Maybe that’s why it’s not that hard to do what I’m doing.

I can still hear but I keep them in, anyway. I want to live in Eli’s world. Not mine. My world feels dangerous. And lonely. So bleak and lifeless. In Eli’s world, I’m safe. Free. Happy.

I need him. Tonight, I need all of him. And the threat of that gun be damned. I’m dying anyway, and I cannot die without knowing Eli like this. Without giving myself to him in this way. To be known by Eli has become unbearable. I’ll turn every sacred vow into meaningless syllables for him. My marriage papers be damned.

“Fuck me, Eli. Please.”

The desperation in his eyes is too much to bear. I slam my mouth over his, kissing him like he belongs to me. He does. He brought the walls down. Nothing exists between us now. He’s mine.

“No, Eli. Stay, please. Make it right. I’m like a corpse. I’m not any good at this but please, Eli, make it right.”

I’ll make it right. Reaching down, I slip his sweats off. Seeing he has two pairs on makes my blood boil. I drop to my knees. Two pairs of socks. I’ll kill that fucking cunt.

He’s not a goddamn fucking corpse. He’s so perfect. So beautiful. So alive beneath me. I’ll make every fucking thing right.

How long has it been since someone loved my body like this? Never. I have been married for ten years and I have never been loved like this.

“Fuck me, Eli. Fuck me like I’m your last fuck.” Because he might be mine.

Something dark moves inside my chest, moving down to fuel my erection. It must be some kind of evil force making me fucking love what I’m doing. Fuck Frank.

Fuck. I’m doing this. Another man is fucking me and I fucking love it. I want it. I’ll burn in hell for this. I’ll deny God for this. I’ll die for this.

I don’t know Mrs. Dalton well enough to trust her with this. Morning teas aren’t enough to share with her something as big as my affair with Axel. When I don’t answer, she writes me another note. Will you take him away from here?

You are mine.

It’s back. I won’t get away with it this time. I won’t cheat death again. Tears fall down my face silently. Just like when Frank hits me, there are no theatrics. Just these silent, exhausted tears.