Hold Me

Hold Me, Pieces, Rob Thomas

So many things that shouldn’t have happened, happened.

I went to see Suzzie.

I shouldn’t have done it, but I did it anyway. Her sister told me where to find her. She was in the hotel room. It was fully paid for. She wanted to be alone. She might as well spend the night in what would have been the honeymoon suite. It made sense.

I hoped she would allow me in when I knocked on her room.

She did.

She’d changed from her wedding dress to a pair of slacks, a t-shirt, and a hoodie. Not that I expected her to still be in her wedding gown, but she had been a sight to behold. Everybody who had attended the botched wedding had thought so.

There was untouched food on the tray next to the bed. She hadn’t sat on the bed, nor slept in it. The rose petals that were arranged in the shape of a heart still sat pretty, undisturbed at the center of the bed.

I felt like I should say something. Suzzie sat down on the couch adjacent to the bed and invited me to have a seat.

I did.

“Suzzie,” I said.

She looked up.

I said nothing.

I couldn’t find the words. She picked up the bottle of champagne that was on the ice bucket on the table. She went to the tray and picked out the two glasses that stood facing down.

“I don’t know what to say.” I finally found the stupid words.

“Neither do I,” she poured the champagne into the glasses.

“Words are stupid anyway,” she added.

She offered me a glass. She lifted up hers and tilted it towards me. “To saying nothing.”

“To saying nothing.” I lifted my glass and clinked it with hers.

We sat quietly. Sipping from our glasses. Saying nothing. The clock on the wall kept ticking away. The champagne in our glasses moved down. We continued to say nothing. She got up and refilled our glasses. The contents kept moving down. She filled them up again. We kept saying nothing.

I wondered whether I should leave. But I stayed.

She got up and went to the foot of the bed. She stared at the flower petals on the bed. She picked a spot and starred a hole into it. I wasn’t sure if she was still breathing. But I said nothing.

Then I heard a sound. It was coming from her. I got up and tilted my head to look at her face. There were tears. They were streaming down her cheeks. Her mouth was determinedly pursed. The noise had come from somewhere but not through her mouth. She lifted her right hand to her chest and clenched it into a fist. She let the glass of wine in her left hand go as she grabbed her aching heart with both hands. Her knees gave way and she knelt beside the bed. A rose petal fell on the floor and settled next to the glass that had rolled off the carpet and onto the parquet.

No sound came out of her. She held the sobs in. Only her tears managed to sneak out.

I put my glass down and found myself kneeling by her side. I didn’t know what to say, so I said nothing.

I pulled her to my frame and held her head to my chest. The sobs refused to stay locked in. They burst out and exploded on my chest. The tears found a new reason to flood my chest too. I took this assault like a man. Every sob and every tear that she threw my way, I caught.

When our knees could not hold us any longer, we sat on the carpet and I directed her head from my chest to my lap. When I could hear no more sobs, I held her face by the chin and turned it up to see if her well of tears had dried up. She looked up at me from my lap. She still had tears in her eyes, but the sobs from her diaphragm had all been pumped out.

She smiled when our eyes met. Mine from all the way up here, hers from way down there. With tears in her eyes, she smiled at me.

And I lost my mind.

When my lips made their way down to hers, she said nothing. She instead brought her hand to the base of my neck and guided my lips to hers. She tasted of heartbreak. I found fragments of her broken heart on her tongue and on the roof of her mouth. She tasted raw. Delicate. Broken. She gave into her bleeding. I soaked up her brokenness with every ounce of breath that I had in me.

With my tongue in her mouth, I raised her head and knelt down again. She knelt down with me. As my lips let go of her lower lip, my hands went to her waist and lifted the hoodie over her head. I took it as a good sign when the t-shirt she had underneath came along with it. Her manicured hands had found their way underneath my trouser. I resumed to merging my lips with hers. As I guided her head to the carpet, I promised myself not to separate my lips from hers again. It’s not like I needed them to speak or anything.

She giggled when I kissed her neck. She moaned when my hands found their way to the space between her thighs. She didn’t speak. She couldn’t speak. Neither could I.

I was moving inside her. She was breathing her brokenness into me. I was pausing and kissing her because the clock on the wall had stopped moving the minute our clothes came off. We refused to allow time to move again. So we stayed still. We controlled our rhythm. She let her tears fall as I wiped them with my kisses. When I moved, she moved with me. When she stopped, I stopped with her.

We said nothing.

Then we couldn’t not move anymore. Our bodies refused to be controlled. So I moved. She moved. She couldn’t stop. I didn’t want her to. We gave in to moaning. We gave in to shutting our eyes. She gave in to more tears. Then we moved so deep I was afraid I would crush her into even smaller pieces. She’d been broken enough.

She smiled with tears in her eyes.

We said nothing.

I went and picked up the pillow from the bed and put it under her head. She placed it under my head and used my chest as her pillow instead. I felt her heartbeat slow down. I felt her broken pieces fall to the floor as she sighed and closed her eyes.

“I’m sorry,” I said.

She said nothing.

“I shouldn’t have agreed to be his best man.”

“Hold me, Eddie.” She said.

I did.

I gathered her in my arms.

I held her tight.

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