But you see, that’s where life has become complicated. When I revisited the loss of my mother, I was reminded that life is short. And I knew that I could no longer play this game of master and submissive with him. That isn’t who I am. I’m so far from submissive, it’s really comical that I ever decided to sign his contract and wear that rose-adorned ring he’d given me. I did things with him, for him, because of him, that I would never have done with, or for, anyone else. I often ask myself how I went down this path when I am not a natural submissive. I’ve actually thought a lot about this question.
I think step one was what I felt when I looked into his eyes and when I was in his presence. Like he owned the world around him. Like if he said I would feel pleasure, I’d feel it. If he said I was safe, I would be. Like he would be the escape I didn’t dare myself in any other part of my life. I found that part of being his submissive addictive. There was no room for worry or fear because he was that consuming. And then there was what I saw in his eyes when he let down his guard and often, I’m not sure he even knew that he did. The pain. The need. The tenderness. The past that torments him and makes him protect himself even from me. But I’ve earned his trust. I deserve to have that wall fall. That’s when I said, no more. Not until he gave all of himself to me.
And so, the flowers came. And the card that read like every other card. After fifteen minutes of debate, I called him. Oh God. I called him and hearing his voice again, when spoken just for me, not for anyone else, as silly as that sounds, slid through me like salve to a bleeding soul.
“Rebecca,” he’d said softly, but with that familiar command radiating through his tone.
“Hello,” I said, because I could not say master, and I could not say his name. Nothing felt right.
“The flowers-”
“Are beautiful. Why are they white?”
“Because we can color them, and us, any way we choose.”
I sucked in air, and breathed out my reply. “What does this mean?”
“It means I don’t know if I know how to be what you need me to be.”
“I don’t want you to be what I want you to be. I want you to be you. The real you.”
“You’ve seen more of me than anyone else ever has.”
“I know.”
“And yet it’s not enough.”
“It is, as long as that isn’t all I ever get.”
“I’m not ready for more, Rebecca, but it’s not about you.”
My chest had tightened. “Then why even send me the flowers?”
“Because I miss you.”
“You do?”
“Yes. I do. I haven’t touched another woman since you shut me out.”
I am stunned. “Not even at the club?”
“No other woman. I want you. Just you. I just need more time to figure out what that means, but not without you. With you.”
“Because of something in your past.”
He is silent for heavy seconds. “Yes.”
“Will you ever tell me about it?”
“I don’t talk about it.”
I don’t push. This is more than he has ever given me. “I can’t be your submissive again.”
“Go to dinner with me tonight. On a date.”
“A real date?”
“Yes. A real date, but I can’t promise what that means. Say yes, Rebecca.”
It’s enough. It’s a start and so I’d said what he’d ordered me to say, but not because he’d ordered it. Because I’d wanted to. I’d said yes.
And so, I’m going on a date with him tonight and I will be Rebecca. Just Rebecca. If he can’t handle that, it will be our real goodbye. If he can, perhaps it will be our first real hello.
June 2011
Friday, six am
I woke from another nightmare this morning. My mother was there. I wish I could say that was a dream, rather than a nightmare, and that I’d relived some fond memory with her. And I thought that was the case. But I always do. Everything was perfect at first. She was alive and not sick anymore. We were on the trolley with coffee in our hands and nibbling on pastries. It was sunny and warm even in the wind. We were laughing and smiling. I was telling her about my date tonight. She wanted to know all about the man romancing her daughter and I actually told her. I told someone about him. Not the Master he was to be, but the man he is to me. Suddenly though the sunny day became stormy. It was cold and rain pummeled us. My mother and I huddled together, and then what always happens in these nightmares, happens. The trolley starts to speed, the car bumping and jolting. The people around me fade, even my mother. I call out to her. She reaches for me. Of course, the inevitable happens, the trolley jumps the tracks and dives into the icy water of the bay. I feel the cold to my bones, and it hurts. The pain is so intense. I manage to push out of the trolley, but then I’m sinking. I start swimming and swimming but I can’t reach the top. My mother appears, and I reach for her, but she doesn’t offer me a hand. She just stares at me. She lets me die.
I woke up gasping for air and with tears streaming down my cheeks. My mother. I felt as if she’d betrayed me but that is kind of easy to understand. She kept on smoking and smoking, knowing it was killing her. She left me alone. I think it’s strange though that I have this nightmare when tonight is my date night with him. It’s almost as if my mind is telling me this isn’t going to go anywhere. I’m headed for heartache. I’m not sure why I’m interpreting it like this, but I am. He’s going to hurt me. I’m almost certain of this but I’m going into this experience with open eyes. He is a wounded man and the truth is, I am wounded in my own ways, too. I think we need each other and maybe its not forever. But I believe, in my heart, that people cross our path for a reason. They help us grow or survive. That’s it.
I think we are both helping each other survive.
Friday, seven pm
Almost date time!
Tonight is the night and while my nightmare this morning had me concerned it was a sign it would go poorly, I’ve changed my mind. I sold a ridiculously expensive Ricco Alvarez painting at the gallery today and when I called to tell him, he was elated, and agreed to show more of his work with us. Ricco Alvarez. He’s incredible and I am the reason he is showing with us. When I told my boss, he was pleased, too. It really set the tone for this night.
Tonight.
Tonight is the night.
Date night with a man I’ve called Master who is no longer my Master. A real date, where he will not be my Master. I might need to write that like ten more times to believe it’s true. I’m not sure what to expect but my nerves are eased by the idea that he doesn’t know either. This is new territory for me. This is new territory for him, and he told me that, which is big for him. He doesn’t share pieces of himself and I don’t know if he realizes he did by telling me this but he did. He shuts himself off. He uses sex and master and submissive to keep anyone from seeing the real him. But I have seen the real him. In those intimate moments, where I was his submissive, where he had full control and we were alone, there were times, when he looked at me, and let the walls down. He let me see the heartache, the fear, the pain. He let me see the brutality of a secret, I may not know by detail, but I know through him. I also know, as much as it gutted me when he invited others into our play, that it always happened after I’d seen a piece of him. It was his way of shutting me out before I saw too much.
I’m done with that. He’s done with that. We’re done with that.
No more hiding.