Trashed and Scattered

As the time flew by, Brian and I spent more and more days planning a spectacular wedding. It would take place in the summer of the next year, just a few months short of my due date in early August. Much to Brian’s despise, it would be a dry wedding, as we would incorporate a baby theme. Surely this idea sat well with Brian’s sister and mother who both helped us plan accordingly. My mother had made it perfectly clear that she would have nothing to do with my marriage to Brian. Although, I wasn’t about to become bent out of shape over it.
The months passed faster and faster and the big day was coming up fast. The wedding itself wasn’t particularly expensive or over the top, yet allowed for all my dream elements to take hold: the dress, the décor, all the nifty little details I’d tucked in so intricately that one would assume it took a wedding planner to hammer everything out. No, this was sheer creation. Brian added a few tweaks of his own, incorporating a much darker tone, which was something I was quite adapted to.
Our wedding, as we decided, wasn’t going to be traditional. Meaning, we would have the vows, the reception, the formalities, all exempting the honeymoon. Truth was, I still hadn’t come around to being comfortable in bed with Brian. Much to his patience, which I was very grateful for, I could tell he was suffering. It killed me that I had been feeling this way for so long. I had been going to therapy for quite some time to try and deal with the post-traumatic stress, the recurring nightmares. The grimy follow-up details that came with the ordeal.
Still, it didn’t speed up my recovery as much as I had hoped. Instead, we’d be staying here getting ready for baby’s arrival.
At the time of the wedding I’d be blown up like a balloon. Barely able to fit my dress, anyways. Thankfully Brian had arranged for one of the best seamstresses in the city to cater to my dress fitting. We weren’t going all out, but Brian promised me that I’d have the best of everything I wanted. He could never let me down.
His groom party consisted of his band members, although he hadn’t quite decided who would be his best man. Jimmy and Matt were so close: Matt, who’d helped us through everything last winter, and Jimmy, who’d been Brian’s best friend since high school. Even I had trouble deciding. Though we both found that as the wedding drew closer and closer, Matt had distanced himself enough to convince Brian that having Jimmy as best man was most suitable.
As for me, I’d have Alyshia as my maid of honour, and Jamie, Harry—my old roommate—and an old friend whom I hadn’t contacted in years, Rebecca. It took them by surprise, really, as I too was guilty of distancing myself from these friends.
Each day that passed, I grew more and more anxious to share names with Brian. And moreover, have his child only a few months later. Oh, it was all becoming a little too much to bear. I often spent time alone in the bedroom coping with the stress. Brian would find solace with his friends. Hell, I could imagine they were planning a wild stag party. A night full of strippers, booze. Enough to temporarily incapacitate Brian, probably let him forget his stresses and worries. Pah, they could have their fun. I convinced Jamie and Alyshia I didn’t want a bachelorette party because of the baby. Realistically speaking, however, I was far more concerned for my mental health.
I was sincerely grieving for my confidence.
Looking in the mirror day to day, I could feel the remainder of the bruises from my broken cheek bones, the raccoon eyes and puffy lips. There were so many scars that makeup couldn’t conceal. I’d forever be known as the girl who was hospitalized after a brutal attack, whose husband and friends were accused of doing it. All the publicity in the world wanted a good look at my face. Turn my mishap into a campaign for street justice. I was a fucking journalist, for god’s sake. My name was supposed to be written in papers rather than plastered on billboards and posters round the city.
The scars ran deeper than most could realize. Even Brian. I often pitied him for enduring the months without a physical relationship. God, the hours we spent anticipating all the great sex we’d have once he returned from his tours. Only to be turned into bitter, sour resentment for any physical contact whatsoever. It often worried me that he wasn’t dealing with it in ways that he should. I found myself becoming more and more paranoid, and all for nothing. He spent a lot of time out of the house. At Jimmy’s, at Matt’s. Wherever he could go for a few hours just to calm his urges. Frankly, I didn’t seem to mind. As long as he came home for dinner, where we would eat in slightly awkward silence.
Brian came home late one night, reeking of stale cigarettes and a lot of liquor. He was a little more sober than I thought he’d be, but I was disappointed that he was drinking as heavily as he was. I hadn’t seen him this way in ages. Years, even. “Where’ve you been?” I asked, trying to sound as endearing as I could without seeming cold, bitter.
As he sniffled, he bowed his chin into my shoulder, wrapping a limp arm around my hip. I could feel him sobbing. “I’m so lost. So, so lost.”
“What do you mean you’re lost, Brian?”
“I—I feel like I’ve been too selfish lately, you know, with your whole mentality of not wanting to do anything. And I feel like such a fucking prick just talking about it, but we haven’t talked about it, and I’m just so fucking scared for you.”
I pulled him over to the couch and sat him down. Removed his jacket, his hat. Rustled his hair a bit with my hand. Enough to bring a smile to his face, anyways, regardless of the tears that he still shed. “Brian, honey. I’ve been getting better. I wasn’t sure how to approach it with you. I catch myself thinking about us a lot…I stop myself, but every time I force myself to keep it going a little more. Edging it closer and closer.”
“Don’t push it if you don’t want to.” he half-whispered. God, this man had become so broken. And it was all my fault.
I shushed him however. “No, I need to make this right. I need us to be okay again. We can’t act like this at the wedding. People will start to ask questions, and I don’t know about you, but I can’t answer any more questions.” I wrapped the hand that was sifting through his hair around his neck and pulled him closer. “In fact, I want to try.”
“Babe, wait. Are you sure?”
“As sure as I’ll ever be right now. Don’t trip me up.” I climbed atop of him and watched his face turn red, his jaw slack. He seemed afraid. I wasn’t sure if it was a fear he had of hurting me or just being unsure of what to do in this general moment.
“Melissa, I don’t know about this.”
I cocked an eyebrow and bent over to kiss him. “Yeah, well I do, Brian.” He passively nodded, supposedly agreeing with me, and went with it. I threw my tongue in his mouth, feeling him squirm beneath me, his hands slowly crawling up my shirt. He was playing too cautious. I knew I’d warn him if I wanted him to stop.
It had been a long time coming, our intimacy. While I anticipated it to be a little less rocky, we were rolling easy. I’d only asked him to stop and slow down once as he tried to pull my shirt off. I wasn’t quite ready to show him the scars and bruises just yet. “Melissa,” he sighed, his eyes not leaving mine, “You’re beautiful.” I’ll admit, my heart fluttered like it did when we first got together. Old feelings came flooding back, those fresh memories of screwing around like teenagers, afraid of getting caught. He helped me get through it. And for the both of us it paid off.
He avoided my scars altogether after I escorted his hands away from my torso. I felt like my body was new for him to discover all over again, like this was the first time he’d ever seen me without a shirt. It did feel new. I felt like an entirely different person than I did before. And still, he kept encouraging me. Typical guy. I couldn’t help but cheekily grin. “What?” he asked, slightly short of breath.
“Mm, nothing.” I whispered into his ear, biting the lobe. I listened to his breathing hasten, felt his pulse become frantic. I watched the colours in his face move as though the different emotions were painting a different portrait. My Brian, the most careful, loving man I’d ever know. Soft gasps left his lips each time I ran fingers through his hair, down his spine, hitching in his back. He told me once before that he fucking loved when I dug my nails in. Couldn’t say I blamed him.
As I watched him take away his shirt, peel off his jeans, and sit below me with his tighter-than-usual briefs, I could do nothing but admire him for a moment before resuming our original ploy. I hadn’t noticed that the stress he’d been under in recent times had allowed him to pack on a little more weight than I was used to. I didn’t mind the slightest; it made him more human, less conceited. Less of the rock star ego I despised.
I hadn’t quite allowed myself to take off my undergarments just yet. It was still too soon for me, and he understood it. We didn’t need to have sex to enjoy each other’s physical company. He flipped me over on the couch so I lied across the cushions, resting my head on the arm piece. He jumped atop and I felt his long fingers brush my back, pulling my hair from my skin. Then I felt his lips trace my shoulders, trail downwards along my spine, hitting the small of my back and resting there for a moment, where I felt his fingers again. I warned him that it wasn’t good for me to lay on my stomach as far along as I was in my pregnancy, and he acknowledged it, but not until he finished massaging my aching back and shoulders.
When he was done he flipped me back up again and propped himself up against me, his body facing the back of the couch, his hair pointing in every direction, cutely covering part of his face. I brushed it away as he’d done to me, watching his eyes as my hand then swooped across his face, down to his neck, resting on his rib cage. His hand followed mine and rested on my prominent bump. He bent down further so his face was nearly touching my belly, then placed a long, loving kiss in the centre of my belly button. “I’m gonna love him just as much as I love you.” He told me, his promise being strong and true. “He’s been through as much as you. He’s as strong as you. If he’s anything like you at all, he’ll have my whole heart.”
I inhaled with a hitch of strong emotional overbearing. Even after years of being with Brian, I never thought he could love something so strong. “If he’s anything like you, I don’t know what I’m gonna do.” We both chuckled a bit, his face never leaving my belly. “Oh, baby, feel him kick!”
Brian’s eyes grew wide and he held my belly with both hands. “Whoa, feisty little bastard, isn’t he?”
“That’s the strongest I’ve ever felt him.” I actually felt sick; his tiny foot managed to bounce off my intestinal wall. “Wow, he’s crazy right now.”
“Guess you and I just haven’t been this close in a while, huh.”
His remark saddened me. I turned away. “I’m sorry.”
“No, no babe. It’s not your fault.” He sat up and caught my face just as I was trying to turn away. “Melissa, these past few months have taken a toll on us both—I’m not going to be a prick about it. You’ve been seriously injured. Hell, you were almost killed. If anything, you’re beyond where you should be right now. I’ve found ways to cope just as you have. And in time, things will be back to complete, total, happy normal. Only…with a little baby.”
Still, as much as I knew he was right, I was hurt from how much I hurt him in turn. “You didn’t deserve to suffer what I put you through. I honestly thought I was too much of a burden for you.”
“No. You were not a burden.” His tone became firm, almost angry. I grew cautious. “By now, over the years, you ought to remember that I’d die for you. There’s no such thing as leaving you. I wouldn’t ever have it in me. When you decided to take me on, become a part of my crazy, hectic life, I knew I had no choice but to wholly give up every ounce of time I had and give it to you. And through that, I fell deeper, and deeper, even deeper in love with you. Words couldn’t fucking express what it felt like. And as time moved on…I felt more. You’re everything else that I have. If this band dies tomorrow, I’ll always have you. I’ll always have my kid. Don’t ever think that you’re a burden.”
Tears welled up in my eyes. I fell back into the nape of Brian’s neck and sobbed. He held me for what felt like hours, stroking my back, shushing me. The baby kicked furiously every time I shakily inhaled. By the time my fit ceased, I was half-lulled to sleep. He watched my every move. “I’m sorry for all that.” I sighed, wiping old salty tears from the corners of my eyes. He only smiled and held me closer.
“Stop apologizing. You’re making me feel bad.”
Sniffling, I crawled up off the couch and headed for the bathroom to draw a bath. “I love you.” I told him, before closing the door behind me.
After I finished filling the tub I heard his footsteps outside the door. He knocked twice, just barely loud enough that I could hear. “Can I come in?”
“Yes, dear.”
The door opened and he stepped through. He was still in his boxers. I could see where his chubbiness had taken away some of his muscle mass, but I was a little more familiar with that than a chiseled lover. Brian was sexy enough for me regardless. “Do you want me to get you anything?” his tone was very low, almost apologetic.
“Come join me.”
“You sure?” I nodded. Raising one eyebrow, he hesitantly slid out of his boxers. I had almost forgotten what he looked like under them. I truly missed it, the sex; the sensation of him sliding into me. Shockingly the memory didn’t rip into my emotions. Perhaps I’d finally reached the pinnacle of feeling sorry for myself and was beginning to climb back up to normality. I reached out for his member, taking him by surprise. It hardened almost instantly. “Whoa, Liss. Hi.”
“Hey.” Smiling, I made room for him to lower down into the steaming water. “I want it now. I really do.”
“Tub might not be the best place.”
“I know—I’m just warming you up.”
He cocked his eyebrow again. “Don’t think I need to be warmed up, Liss. But suit yourself.”
As I continued to stroke him, I pulled the plug and reached for my towel. His eyes widened with a reserved excitement and he stood up to grab his own towel. “Guess I’m gonna have to be careful not to poke Junior in the forehead, huh.” He burst out in a ridiculous laughter just before swooping me up in his arms. I dropped the towel in the hall, my lips locked with his, both of us groaning in mass anticipation. He laid me gently on the bed and climbed over me, his fingers curving down to tease me. I pushed his hand away eagerly and dove for his cock. “Alright then.” He remarked before slowly finding my opening with his tip.
I found it very uncomfortable to have him stand while I lied on the bed. I had him lie down in turn as I straddled him, taking him in at a pace and angle that I could control, and that I truly always enjoyed. I lasted half as long as he did, but he pulled out just before his release, causing a jet stream of goo to explode all across my belly. Baby kicked harder than he did before, causing me to wince in further discomfort. Brian grabbed my towel from the hall and wiped me down before giving the baby some more attention. His huge hand rested on my entire navel, covering my belly button. He talked to it for a long while as I faded off to sleep. As he made sure I was comfortably positioned in our bed, he wrapped me in a couple sheets and went to clean himself off.

Notes