Total pages in book: 96
Estimated words: 92930 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 465(@200wpm)___ 372(@250wpm)___ 310(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 92930 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 465(@200wpm)___ 372(@250wpm)___ 310(@300wpm)
I sat up suddenly to avoid the inquisition. “I’ve got to get going to Ivy’s.”
“You can’t join us for a quick breakfast?”
“No. I overslept, and I have to meet with this doctor at eleven,” I said, looking around for my clothes.
“You deserve to be happy, Jake. You know that, right?”
Ignoring her, I threw on a shirt and put my watch on.
She continued, “This girl…does she like you?”
My tone was curt. “That doesn’t matter. She doesn’t know about Ivy. If she knew, she would freak the fuck out.”
“You don’t know that for a fact. She might understand.”
“Or she might want nothing to do with me, which is a much more likely scenario.” It wasn’t my intention to shout. “Plus, I’ve already lied to her by not mentioning Ivy for so long. That, in itself, makes it even worse.”
“Why does she think you take off every weekend?”
I let out a single angry laugh. “Honestly? I can’t imagine the scenarios running through her head. Either she knows something is up, or she thinks I’m just this weird guy that can’t go a week without seeing his sister.”
She stuck her tongue out and threw a pillow at me. “Would that be the worst thing in the world?”
***
The wind outside howled, shaking the window that Ivy was looking out of when I entered her room. She didn’t bother to turn around. “You’re late.”
“I’m sorry. I called you this morning and told you I was meeting with your doctor at his office before coming here. He came in on a Saturday just to meet with me and thinks there’s a new trial drug that might make you feel better. He needed to talk to me about it, okay?”
“What’s the point?”
“What do you mean?”
“Nothing ever makes me feel better.”
“We’re trying to change that.”
“The only thing that makes me feel better is you, Jake, and you’re late!”
Ivy had a dozen different moods that ranged from coherent to completely out of it. The mood she was in at this moment was one of the hardest to deal with because while agitated, she was very aware of things, which in turn made her depressed and angry.
Ivy patted the bed. “Lie with me.”
She moved over to one side, and I got in, kicking my feet up and reaching for the TV remote. We’d been watching Modern Marvels on the History Channel for about a half-hour when I felt her hand sliding along my thigh and moving close to my crotch. My body tensed. Very rarely did Ivy try to touch me like that, which was why I didn’t think twice about getting in the bed with her. The majority of the time, she didn’t like to make contact with anyone or be touched in general because she was always convinced people were trying to hurt her.
But once in a blue moon, she’d get into a certain mood where she’d want sex and come on to me.
Out of every scenario with her, this one killed me the most. I just didn’t view Ivy that way anymore, plain and simple. It was hard for me to explain it in a way that wouldn’t be devastating to her in her temporarily clear state of mind. Even if I were physically attracted to her, it would have been irresponsible to sleep with someone who was not sane the majority of the time.
Back in the early days, when her symptoms were first starting to develop, she’d sometimes get an episode in the middle of intercourse and start screaming for me to get off of her. It made me shudder just thinking about that now.
When I took her hand and moved it off of my dick, she said, “Please.”
“No.”
“I just want to feel you inside of me again, Jake.”
I immediately got up and rubbed my temples then took a deep breath to compose my thoughts. “You know we don’t do that anymore, Ivy.”
“Why not?”
“Because a long time ago, when you got sick, we decided it wasn’t a good idea. Remember? We’ve talked about this before.” We had…countless times.
“You stopped loving me.”
My head was pounding. “That’s not true. I just love you in a very different way now.”
“If you love me at all, why won’t you make love to me?”
“Ivy, please…”
She started to cry. It didn’t matter how many times we’d had this conversation or how many times she cried in front of me, it never got easier, and it never would. And naturally, a part of me did feel guilty because I was technically her husband. I wouldn’t have wished this whole situation on my worst enemy.
After a half-hour of silence, Ivy asked me to go out and get her some takeout. By the time I returned to the group home with Chinese, she was chain-smoking, calling me Sam and falsely accusing me of taking so long because I was lacing the food with cyanide.