Serrated Edges

Chapter 8

He finally rises from the bed and takes a tentative step towards her. He sees her eyes fill up once again with tears and fright.

She crosses her arms and takes a step back. The door closes, trapping them both in the room.

She is still shaking, like a leaf in the wind. Her eyes are bloodshot and red, her hair is in shambles all around her. She is the very look of pain and chaos and all she wants to do is crawl into bed and lose herself once again in a drug-induced stupor before the world hits her again in the morning.

He dares to extend his arm.

He reaches to touch her elbow.

He waits for her to recoil. Strangely, she does not.

White hot streaks of familiar longing jolt his very being as his fingers brush her elbow.

Meng? His voice is uncharacteristically weak and needy.

She looks at him, confused and afraid.

And in one move he pulls her to him and embraces her. She buckles and gives in, collapsing into his warmth, sobbing like she has never sobbed before. He is racked with guilt at her sorry state, and now he feels the rawness of her pain. Every whimper from her is a serrated knife stabbing stabbing stabbing at his core.

Outside, the storm rages on. Inside the room, they cling to each other, two buoys in a swirling ocean, desperately trying to float amidst the tumultuous waves. He continues to embrace her frail little body as she soaks his shirt in tears.

Suddenly, he feels his eyes well up. For the first time in two years, he allows the waves of emotion to wash over him. Now he finds himself sobbing. Sobbing at their loss, wailing over their shared loneliness. It overtakes him. His sobs are now louder, the tears now flow harder. He slides down to the floor of her bedroom.

It is now Maine who holds and comforts him in the dim light of her room. He finally mourns after years of keeping his grief inside. He's tired of the pain. He is tired of holding on to his hatred towards Maine. He is tired of keeping his rage pure and intact. He is tired of looking for ways to punish her for a sin that was never hers to begin with. But he can no longer do it -- tonight, his heart is worn-out and battered, absolutely desperate for relief.

He finally mourns for their little one, for the love that they have lost, for the husband he can no longer be. He wants to hold Rose, to hug her and kiss her instead of missing and aching for her. He would give the world to touch her, hold her, smell her newborn smell, tell her he loves her, watch her grow.

But that can no longer be now. There is only rage and sadness where there used to be a heart.

He falls deeper into Maine's arms. He realizes he is not worthy of the comfort she offers, but it is the comfort he so desperately needs tonight because without it, he will go absolutely insane.

After minutes, he hears her voice. It is soft and gentle.

Dito ka muna.

Her eyes are empty and tired, and so are his. She takes his hand and he mutely follows her back to her bed. She crawls under the covers into a fetal position, and he crawls beside her. With his last ounce of energy, he pulls her into his frame and buries his head in her hair. She still fits in his arms the way all the other women never seem to do.

The simple contact of her skin against RJ's makes her feel good for the first time in a very long time. She will fall asleep any minute, and it will be drugless -- the first time in many months. Tonight, she is no longer a chaotic pile of pills and liquor. She feels human now. She feels his warmth overtake her. In his arms, she finds an inexplicable state of peace.

As she settles into his frame, he finds himself saying something he hasn't said in years.

I miss you.

There is a long pause. The rain comes down harder against her windows.

Ako rin, she murmurs.

The wind howls outside.

I'm so sorry, Meng.

It is the first apology he has uttered since the night they lost Rose.

She does not say anything.

There has been so much yelling, so much pain, so much blame in the past two years. Tonight, for the first time, they share their common grief. They share the same painful loss.

In a grotesque way, it is a mercy.

I'm so sorry, he whispers again, his arms wrapping tighter around her small body.

She is asleep now and does not hear him.

He kisses the back of her head and wipes his own tears. For the first time in many months, he no longer feels alone He has dealt with the pain alone long enough. He has always dealt with the pain alone. But he cannot bear it anymore. He is tired of being alone despite the naked women by his side. Tired of being alone under the klieg lights of concerts and mall shows. Tired of facing the same depressive mornings again and again. He is tired of being angry and nervous and on the the edge everyday. Tired of carrying the unfathomable agony of a secret he cannot share with anyone else.

He is tired of being tired.

Suddenly, he feels her fingers entwine with his. He closes his eyes at the sheer comfort it yields. He takes a deep breath and realizes that this is the first time he has felt good in many months. It is strange.

He takes her hand and looks at the engagement ring he forced down on her finger hours earlier.

He kisses the bruise that has begun to form below it.

He slips off the ring, freeing her finger from its terrible burden.

A calm begins to descend in the room. Their armors crack. A small ray of light seeps in. For a minute, there is relief from their brokenness. It may be a fragile, shaky, anxious sense of peace, but it's there and it's all they have right now, and they are grateful.

She sinks even deeper into him, into the intersection of achingly painful roads that only both of them can travel.

As more of her skin touches his, he feels his heart slowing. The pain in his chest lifts. The tears stop coming. His anger fades. For the first time in many months, he realizes he is going to sleep. He is finally going to sleep.

The weather worsens outside. The rain pummels the windows with thicker drops. The sky remains grey and dim.

He feels a growing heaviness in his eyelids. He hears her whimper softly, her breathing now even and quiet in his arms. He follows suit only moments after.

It is the first night of peace for both of them. For a few precious hours, their hearts rest.

With her in his arms, they finally sleep.

For the first time in a long time, there are no more lies.

There is no more pain.

For the first time in a long time, the nightmares do not come.