The Song of David

“This has nothing to do with my faith in you. I know who you are, Millie.” I stumbled over my response, trying to express myself, trying to say what I meant and mean what I said. “I know you would see me through. You say give miracles a chance, but I feel like I already got mine. You’re my miracle! The fact that you and I came together, that we met, that I found the love of my life. That’s a miracle, Millie! I’m so grateful for that. So many people don’t get that. We did. It’s a miracle I was awake enough not to miss it. And it’s a miracle you loved me back.”

Her face crumpled and she reached for me. At last she reached for me. Entreating me. I went to her immediately, but she pressed both hands against my chest, framing my heart, keeping me from pulling her into me. Then she ran her hands down my arms and found my hands. She cradled one of my hands in both of hers and brought my palm to her lips. She kissed it softly, sweetly, pressing her lips to the center as if she could ease my pain and her own by kissing it all away. Then she moved my palm from her lips and let me cup her cheek. She leaned into it briefly, holding it there, as if she drew strength from me, despite what she’d said. Then she slid my hand down her neck, past the fine bones at her collar, and pressed my palm against her breast, covering her completely.

“Most people think the most intimate thing in the world is sex,” she said softly.

I shuddered at the sense of belonging I felt, touching her like that, where no one else touched her, but I didn’t curl my fingers against her, didn’t caress the crest of her breast with my thumb or reach up and cradle her other breast in the hand that still hung at my side. I just waited, feeling the pounding of her heart against the tips of my fingers, and she rewarded me by continuing.

“I thought when I made love with you, when I let you see all of me and when you let me know all of you, every private inch, when we made that promise with our bodies and our lips, I thought that would be the most intimate thing we would ever do.”

“Millie?” I whispered. I didn’t know where she was going with this, but there was sorrow in her words, and finality, like she’d reached a conclusion about me, about us.

“But it wasn’t. Sex is not the most intimate thing two lovers can do. Even when the sex is beautiful. Even when it’s perfect.” Millie drew a deep breath as if she remembered how perfect it had truly been. “The most intimate thing we can do is to allow the people we love most to see us at our worst. At our lowest. At our weakest. True intimacy happens when nothing is perfect. And I don’t think you’re ready to be intimate with me, David.”

She stopped talking, letting her words ring in the air, and my hand curled against her breast, kneading her and needing her, and not knowing how to give her what she wanted. Her breath caught and her head fell into my chest as if the pleasure warred with the pain.

“I don’t know how,” I confessed, and I pulled my hand away so I wouldn’t hurt her in my frustration.

She grabbed my hand and brought it back, this time pressing it to her heart.

“I’m telling you how. You hold onto me. You trust me. You use me. You lean on me. You rely on me. You let me shelter you. You let me love you. All of you. Cancer. Fear. Sickness. Health. Better. Worse. All of you. And you’ll have all of me.”

“I don’t know if I can beat it, Millie.” I choked on the words and suddenly I was crying. My first instinct was to be grateful she couldn’t see me, and then I felt her hands on my cheeks, feeling the tears, and I braced myself. But I didn’t pull away. She stood on tiptoe and pulled my face to hers, pressing her trembling lips to mine, comforting, quieting, and acknowledging my fear. And it wasn’t just fear, it was my deepest fear. If I fought, I didn’t know if I could win. In fact, I was pretty sure I wouldn’t. I tasted Millie’s tears, and I knew she tasted mine. And then she spoke against my lips.

“You don’t have to beat it, David. You don’t have to beat it. You just have to let us fight with you.”

I wrapped my arms around her and held on for a moment, unable to speak. When I found my voice I still didn’t let her go.

“No tap outs,” I whispered.

“No guilt,” Millie said gently.

“Amelie means work.” I don’t know why that came to my mind, but it did. As she held me up, I thought of her strength.

“That’s right.” She smiled tremulously. “So are you going to work for me or not?”





Moses




I HEARD A crash downstairs, and I paused, concerned and a little irritated. Kathleen was asleep, and I really didn’t want her waking up. She had a couple new teeth coming in, and she was ornery and more than a little miserable. Then I heard Millie’s voice, raised, angry even, and I froze, listening. I heard the rumble of Tag’s voice too, and Millie came right back at him, even angrier. I walked to the top of the stairs and caught bits and pieces of what Millie was saying. She wasn’t taking a breath, and she was laying it all out. And then the door to the bedroom was closed, and the voices were obscured. I started down the stairs, more hopeful than I’d been all week. I don’t know how she’d done it, but Tag was in Millie’s room, and things were finally coming to a head.

Henry came bursting into the house, Millie’s name on his lips, and I raced down the remaining stairs, intercepting him.

“Henry, wait!”