Thirteen
I’d seen sitting with the phone in my hand for almost half an hour.
So far, I had managed to dial the number twice, and halfway a few times, before I set the phone back down and got up to pace anxiously. I knew I had a limited amount of time before the news of my pregnancy would got all the outlets, and if my parents found out from a tabloid before they heard it from me…well, that was pretty much as good as deciding I never wanted to talk to them again.
“…hello?” My mom always sounded suspicious when she answered the phone.
“Hi, mom,” I said. “It’s me.”
“…hello,” she said, as a statement this time instead of a question.
“Can you get dad on the phone?” I asked. “I want to tell you both something.”
“Oh my God,” I heard my mom say, more to herself than to me. I heard the phone lower slightly. “Oh my God! Howard! Howard, get over here!”
There was some confused rustling and talking in the background.
“Hello?” said my dad.
“Hi, dad,” I said. My throat was already starting to tighten. “Is Mom there too?”
“Yes, I’m still here,” said my mom, breathlessly.
I cleared my throat. “I’m pregnant.”
“OH MY GOD!” My mom was crying, instantly. And I realized I was crying too.
“Your mother,” said my dad, with a slight quiver in his voice, “your mother was afraid you wouldn’t tell us.”
“Of course I’d tell you,” I managed. I took a few deep breaths to compose myself. “Are you going to come visit?”
“Yes, honey, yes,” my mother sobbed. “Of course.”
“I mean, before the baby comes. You…you never got the chance to meet Daniel.”
“I know,” said my father. “We’ve got a lot of lost time to make up for.”
“Stop it, Howard,” my mom wept. “You’ve got me started again.”
***
The next day was Saturday, and I’d just put on my workout clothes and was seriously thinking about maybe someday eventually doing some kind of deliberate movement with my body. Daniel walked into the room, tossing something onto the dresser.
“I was thinking,” he said. “Maybe not the week after next, but the one after that. For your parents,” he clarified. “I’ve got that trade show next weekend, I’d rather not cut it so close.”
“Sure,” I said. “Just decide soon, I have to let them know so they can take the time off.”
“That’s my final answer,” he said, smiling. “What’s wrong?”
This was, most likely, directed at my slightly sad, slightly vacant expression. I hadn’t been able to hide it as much as I wanted to. Considering how Daniel and his father had managed to come to some sort of peace, and even Lindsey was headed up to meet with him soon, I couldn’t believe I was selfish enough to be thinking about my own sex life.
But ever since Daniel had uttered the words “I don’t think I can do this now,” after my panic attack, we hadn’t done anything remote like “this.” Sex, yes. But nothing like was I’d grown used to, with him. At the time I had assumed he meant not in this moment, not today. But then I realized he’d been scared off the whole thing for some indeterminate amount of time, and I never would have guessed how much I’d miss it.
“I don’t know,” I said, feeling tears gathering in my eyes. “I don’t know what’s wrong.”
I did, of course, but I didn’t know how to explain it.
He held me close, and I know he must be dying to ask me what the hell I was talking about. But he didn’t. He just sat there quietly, stroking my hair, while I searched and searched for the right words to explain how I felt.
“Things feel…different lately,” I said, finally. “Ever since…”
I lost the words again, and floundered quietly for a moment.
“I know it’s been…” Daniel looked nearly as anxious as I felt. “…since my dad came back, I know it’s been a bit…but I like to think I’m doing better than the last time we had a crisis.” He smiled, hesitantly. “Aren’t I?”
“It’s not that,” I said, shaking my head vigorously. “It’s not about your dad.”
“Then what is it?” He put his hands on my shoulders, holding me away so he could look into my eyes. “The baby?”
I nodded. “Yes. Well, no. When I…after I had my, you know, the panic attack. You said. You said you didn’t think you could ‘do this.’”
He’d started chewing on his lower lip, looking away from me now. Eyes on the floor.
“I’m sorry,” I said. “I don’t even like bringing it up. I know it’s not something we really…talk about. But I feel…it feels so strange, not having it. The way you are with me…it makes me feel safe. I don’t know why.” I’d never really explored this before; I didn’t talk about it with other people, and certainly not with him - not until the rope or the toys came out. “It’s not that I can’t handle myself. But I like not having to, all the time. I like going into a situation where I know I’m going to be told what to do and I don’t have to think. I don’t have to worry. I can just be. And feel. I know it sounds weird, but I…”
Daniel finally looked back up at me. “I’m sorry,” he said, softly. “I’m sorry that we don’t talk about it.”
I shrugged.
“I should be able to,” he said. “We should be able to. But it was always something…” He took a deep breath. “The first time I realized…well, you remember I told you about that woman. The tantric expert.”
I smiled. “I do remember her. I’d love to take her out to lunch sometime.”
Daniel winced.
“I’m kidding,” I said. “Probably. Anyway, what about her?”
“I knew I was in trouble. The first time she let me tie that rope around her wrists, and I felt the way it glided under my hands, and how her arms pulled behind her back, and how…how placid and happy she got. I knew that was what I wanted. I knew I was going to be addicted to it from then on. But it’s not the sort of thing you talk about. Or that’s what I thought, at any rate.
“Most of the women I met, they liked it when I would take control. They especially liked it, I think, because I was ‘quiet.’ So it came as a welcome surprise. I think they saw it as me coming out of my shell. But really I was always just playing another part.”
He reached out and tucked a lock of my hair behind my ear. “But I never want to risk hurting you,” he said. “I never want to risk pushing you too far. But it’s always felt like talking about it, actually trying to work something out and make sure we’re all in agreement about how far is too far - would somehow - I don’t know. Break the spell.”
I shook my head, smiling. “There’s no spell,” I said.
“You’re always saying how you…” he paused, searching for words. “…’can’t say no’ to me. And I think there’s a part of me that’s afraid that you might really mean that. More than you realize.”
“It’s not true,” I said. “I do this because I want to. I do it because I trust you not to push me too far.”
He looked bemused. “I’m glad you’re sure I won’t, at least.”
“You’re so careful,” I said. “And always so conscientious. No matter how much you change, I know you’re always there under the surface. I know I just have to say the word, and you’ll be there.” I grinned. “Like all those times you’ve accidentally pinched me or leaned on my hair, or…the panic attack.” I still didn’t like thinking about it, but he needed to be reassured. “I know you think you ‘did something’ or it’s your fault, but it’s not.”
“I don’t want to risk hurting you,” he said. “In any way. I don’t know what to do. This is completely uncharted territory for me.”
“Me too,” I said. “And that’s okay. We can start small.”
He looked at me for a long time. I was convinced he was going to back away. Look down. Apologize. No, no, I can’t do this.
“Close your eyes,” he said, softly.
I was surprised at how quickly I obeyed.
“I’m still here,” he said. “I’m not going anywhere. I won’t leave you alone.”
I felt my breathing slow. I hadn’t realized it was speeding up. There were so many things I never realized, or stopped to think about, until he started giving me orders.
“I’m sorry I’ve been neglecting you.” His voice was coming from somewhere behind me. “I promise it won’t happen again.”
I smiled.
“I want you to tell me something you’ve never told me before,” he said. “That one fantasy you’ve never told anyone.”
Instantly, I felt myself blush hotly.
“Because you think it’s silly,” he said. “Or because you think I wouldn’t want to try it. The thing that’s popped into your head more than once, but you’ve been too embarrassed to bring it up.”
There was something. It was in the forefront of my mind immediately. It wasn’t even that bad, or unusual. But the precedent with our relationship, I now realized, had never made me feel like I was “allowed” to choose the direction of our bedroom activities. He would introduce things - suggest them - and while it was always within my power to say no, he never asked me what I wanted. I could have spoken up any time I wanted to, but it felt so strange and unnatural to do so.
Now, he was demanding that I do it. I realized that this was the only way I was ever going to tell him. I couldn’t decide which emotion was stronger: the gratitude, or the embarrassment.
“It’s so stupid,” I said. “It’s not even…it’s going to be anti-climactic.”
“Tell me anyway.” His fingers were resting on the junction between my shoulder and my neck.
“You’re going to be horribly disappointed,” I said, and I was pretty sure I was true.
“Maddy, stop.”
I forced my brain to stop racing, telling me over and over again that he was just going to laugh at me, that I was going to end up humiliated.
I swallowed.
“I want you to…”
His fingers brushed along my shoulders, and the outsides of my arms. It was such a light, comforting touch, just enough to remind me that he was there.
“Iwanttobeyourmaid.” It all came out in a rush, and as soon as the words hit the air I felt a vicious stab of embarrassment in my chest.
“Tell me again,” said Daniel, his voice very soft and low. “Slower.”
“I want. To be. Your maid.” My whole face was burning. I was very grateful that I’d already been asked to close my eyes, because I didn’t want to risk seeing his reaction. But at the same time, not knowing was tortuous.