Back in the Saddle

It's Mutual

Annie

They say that the first three seconds after you wake up are the most peaceful, because your mind isn't quite pumping out everything you need to know. The only thing your mind is doing is waking up, not thinking about last night, present time, or anything at all.

I woke with a pounding head, and the first three seconds of waking up were blissful: I was laying partly next to Joe, and partly on his chest, his arm was around me and his slow breaths meant he was still asleep.

But when we hit second number four of being awake, the night came crashing back. This isn't Joe I'm laying with, naked. It's Steven. And the room is spinning.

Oh god.

Listen, I know he's in love with Charlie. I know that she's all he wants. I know. Steven doesn't love me in an intimate way. I don't love him in that way either. He's my friend, my best friend, and pretty much my only friend now that Joe is gone. I knew what I was doing last night, kind of. I mean, I wouldn't have done it if I were sober, but– It's not like we've never slept together before.

I'm not, and I wasn't, trying to start anything with Steven. I don't know why exactly I did it, but I'm sure it has something to do with the fact that my husband of seven years just left me for another woman.

It was wrong, yes. So wrong. But it was really. Fucking. Good.

Would I do it again? No. Because I'm not trying to start anything with Steven. I don't want that, and I'm sure he doesn't either.

Stevens first three seconds of waking up were similar to mine: blissful and clueless. "Hey, baby," he said, having a hard time forming coherent words, running his hand down his face. And then, almost instantly afterward, he looked at me and said, "Fuck..."

Despite the situation I snorted. "Sound a little more remorseful, why don't you," I joked.

He sat up, looking for his pants. Putting his underwear on hastily, he sat back down on the bed, undoubtedly dizzy from last night's drinking. He handed me a shirt to put on, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Why," he muttered, "why, why..." still quiet, then, to me, "Ann, I'm sorry. I didn't mean any– I don't– why?"

I shushed him. "It's okay," I said. "I know it didn't mean anything."

"Then why..."

"Because my life is fucked up right now, so I guess I'm doing fucked up shit," I said, feeling bad that he feels so guilty. "I'm not trying to get between you and Charlie– believe me. I know how you feel about her."

Steven was kind of confused.

"I was drunk, Steven," I say, pushing my embarrassment away, so hopefully he can too. "You were too. It's okay. We both wanted it to happen, and it didn't mean anything to either of us."

"Right..." he says slowly, agreeing. "So it's okay then."

"Yeah," I reply. "Nothing weird, nothing new. We've done it before. It's okay."

He lets out a sigh of relief. "I'm glad it's mutual," he admits.

"Me too."

//

Charlie

I'd been thinking a lot about what Steven's been saying to me. About that time at the lake, about second chances, and about our first conversation after eight years, back in June. Even that feels long ago now. I'd told him on the phone a few nights ago to not stop trying.... and, well, I guess that's progress. He's trying, making an effort to at least be my friend again, and that's certainly something. And he's doing a pretty good job of it, if I do say so. I look forward to when he calls, I just wish it wasn't so damn awkward every time.