Love & Sex in Times of Corona

Unbearable

Wednesday, 2am, May 27th, 2020

Kaily came down at a little after six. She was sullen and quiet and disappointed to find her mother had left. She sat out back on the lounger. They didn't talk much, and he didn't want to push it. The day was hard on her, it was hard on them all. First the video of the killing of the black man by police in Minneapolis, then the news of Michelle and lastly, the fact that there may be a possibility that they too have contracted the virus. He made a summer salad and they ate it out back with little conversation. It was very unlike them. At around eight, she kissed him and went up to her room. Quite early, even for her.

That night as he tried to sleep, tossing and turning, thinking about the events of the day, he finally dozed off at about 2 am. Suddenly he is awakened by the light on the night table being turned on. Then he hears what appears to be his daughter's voice in the far distance. He opens his eyes and to his surprise, she is standing by his bed. Apparently, she hadn't bothered to throw anything on because she's just wearing a pair of those ever so popular boy shorts and a flimsy t-shirt that doesn't even reach down to her navel. It reminded him of when she was a little girl and would climb into their bed to be between him and Celia. But looking up at her now, there is nothing little about her. She seems to be in a daze. He sits up in the bed,

"Kaily, what's wrong? It's two o'clock in the morning. You alright?"

"I can't sleep," and then without asking or waiting for a comment from him, she crawls into his bed, pulls the cover over herself and makes a beeline for him.

"just hold me."

Robert Ryan is also disturbed by the current events in their world and how it's going to play out on a national stage, for he has seen this before and remembers quite vividly the consequences and actions that follows in the country after an incident like this.

But all that suddenly vanishes as he feels his daughter, this woman, practically naked, embracing him. She is hotter than he expected, like a radiator on an already hot night. She burrows into him, as if trying to hide from something or someone and he is acutely aware of her physical presence, and the heat of her is becoming unbearable.

He tries to move, to extricate himself from her grasp, when he hears little sobs and feels as teardrops fall upon his chest and trickle down his ribcage onto the sheet below. He resigns himself to just holding her, comforting her while trying unsuccessfully to ignore the breasts that are burning craters into his chest.

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