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A Working Class Sacrifice
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14 Years before Present Day
John’s laugh, boisterous, whole-hearted, echoed through the hotel hallway as he walked his new bride into the penthouse suite. She giggled, clutching his hand, drunk off champagne and the high of her extravagant wedding day. John slid the electronic keycard into the door.
“Should I carry you over the threshold?” John asked coyly.
“Mr. Malcolm!” she gasped, feigning indignation. “Are you planning on deflowering me?”
“I do I am,” John answered in a southern drawl, grabbing Tina behind the knees and hoisting her into his arms. He walked them into their room, throwing a laughing Tina onto the plush comforter of the bed. Tufts of white dress billowed into the air, surrounding her face and covering her arms.
John unclasped his cuff links before climbing onto the king-sized bed and pawing playfully at Tina’s dress. “Are you in there?” he asked, sorting through pieces of satin and stitches of lace. Finally finding her face, he laid down squarely on top of her. “This train is a bit much, no?”
Tina let out a hearty laugh. “You’re mother insisted.”
“Oh she did, did she?” he said, pushing the blonde hair off of his wife’s face. “You are a vision, Tina.”
Tina smiled gratefully, craning her neck upwards to kiss him.
It was their first time. Tina had insisted on waiting until their wedding and John had obliged.
It wasn’t unbearably awkward, or at least it didn’t seem so. The mechanics of the act were fully functioning, everything in working order. Tender kisses, inevitable winces followed by reassurances that all was fine. And then that cataclysmic moment: that final push before the eruption, the second of stillness before the deluge. The one last thrust of hips before penis is limp and muscles are tired and the face is suddenly, thankfully, placid.
With his wife below him, John rolled to the side, finding the familiar curve of her back to nestle against. As he held her, a smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. The sleep moved over him like a blanket.
He held her, her skin in his very own hands, and yet he did not know that his wife lay crying beside him. Soundlessly, she lay gasping, gasping, gasping for air as her tears stained the sheets of her marital bed.
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I love the way you’re writing this with the changing time lines. I’m anxious to find out how they ended up apart…great update. Thanks.
You. Are. Killing. Me.
Your writing is so beautiful that it leaves me breathless. PPS.
You leave me in tears. Great story.PPS.
It`s so sad.PPS
you’re breaking my heart but i’m liking it. masochist much
And that *wasn’t* a gut-punch, atlas? I’m starting to worry that what you have in store might just kill me, then. thanks for posting!
That was so very sad. This is an amazing story. Thank you.
My heart is hurting,I am sobbing and tears are coming down my cheeks. That is how hurt and sad I am for reading it. I can’t imagine Bette pain GOSH!!! You discribed the scenes of your tales so beautifully and truly that it seems I am on it living it. It is an amazing story and I can’t wait to witness their first reunion and the life together for ever. Thank you for sharing this with us.(I am too emotional now lol) PPVS
My heart is breaking.
OMG, that chapter hurt so very much for them and for me. PPS
Ouch! That was heartbreaking. :( Thanks for posting! I love this story no matter how heartbreaking it is right now.
So sad……..
this story is indeed very sad I sure hope it has a happy ending (tear).
Two tear-drenched scenes set 13 years apart. It’s quite a wistful tale. I’m intrigued how they separated. Thanks again, atlas. More please. More! =)
the last sentences really moved me…
thank you.