Yet, Here We Are by Brenda K. Massman

Author:Brenda K. Massman
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Koehler Books
Published: 2024-04-19T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter 17

— Elizabeth, October 1948 —

I awoke the next morning in my hotel bed, Stephen lying at my side with his eyes still closed, the golden glow of the brass bed rails like a promise of good fortune.

Though dawn was just breaking, I began to think about the many activities I wanted to fit in before my time in this transformational city would come to an end. There was shopping to do, another visit to the Blue Window to see Wini, and—most compelling—time with Stephen. Any second of time that I could squeeze in to be with him.

Beside me, Stephen rustled in slow wakefulness, his knee brushing up against my thigh. I turned onto my side to face him, to see what he looked like when first greeting the day, but his look was expressionless in the subtle light. My pulse quickened. What did this mean? Was it a look of satisfaction? Uncertainty? Regret?

“Are you frightened of me, darling? Is it my bed hair?” he asked.

“No.” I giggled with relief. “Just trying to read your expression. Are you okay?”

“Of course I’m okay, love. I’m literally the finest I’ve ever been.”

“Oh,” I said, further relieved. “All right then.” I looked at him intently. “Do you always awaken this way, with no expression?”

“Well, I suppose I do. Don’t we all? Am I to open my eyes and shout out peals of laughter? Ha! Ha ha!” He tossed his hands in the air and began to writhe playfully, like a child being tickled.

“Oh, you!” I reached down and kissed him before he could close his mouth, feeling the vibration of his throaty laughter as our lips met, my tongue finding its own pleasure as he had taught me last night. He pulled me closer and began stroking my body exactly where I yearned for his touch, his own body responding in sync until, feeling emboldened, I positioned myself on top of him.

The layers of my cocoon of melancholy had been pierced, and I had emerged, dazzled by this new life into which I had entered, by the dramatic shift that had taken place. No longer was I Betty Ley, listlessly tagging along with life. I had become Elizabeth, the woman I’d imagined myself to be, living the life to which I’d long been drawn. And this man with whom I had spent the night was the man I loved.

The complexities of our situation had not changed, but an invisible wand had wondrously erased any trace of doubt from my mind. Stephen was who I wanted to lie next to in my bed, whose expression upon first awakening I wanted to see, whose laughter I wanted to fold into, and whose body I wanted to make love to on a Wednesday morning, on any morning. Stephen was the man I loved. I loved him with demanding certainty.

In time, we roused ourselves out of bed and readied for breakfast. Together we walked hand-in-hand in the direction of the hotel dining room, where crisp white linens covered round tables and the smell of bacon caused me to salivate with hunger.

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