Falling Walls (III)

Chapter 3

"Welcome to the club," Tom frolicked when he found his senses again.

"I don't think this counts, Tom," I countered, running my fingers along his bare chest.

"Why wouldn't it?" Tom asked while playing with my hair.

"Because a bed more comfortable than the one at home can hardly be according to the guidelines." That made Tom laugh out loud.

"I don't think the entry requirements are further specified, Engel. But if I have to drag you into a filthy toilet of a charter flight, then there's no way I'm going to join."

"Oh, Sir is being picky now."

"When it comes to you, absolutely."

"Are you awake, Lisa?" We had been silently lying next to each other for a while, following our own thoughts, and I had enjoyed Tom's warmth and closeness, which I had so missed over the busy past week.

"Yes, but I thought you were sleeping," I whispered, turning over to face him. When Tom had stopped playing with my hair, I assumed he'd fallen asleep.

"Can't. What are you thinking about?" He pulled me tighter into his arms. I loved the way he showed that he cared. But I wasn't sure if I should tell him. I hadn't really thought it through enough and was worried I'd say the wrong thing. But in the end, this time was as good as any other.

"I was thinking about Sam's question from earlier. - And that we never really discussed how we'll handle everything."

"I'm so sorry, Lisa. I know my answer wasn't great," Tom apologised, nestling his head on my shoulder.

"Hey, it was better than anything I would have said. Which book did you get that line from?"

Tom chuckled, and then went quiet for a while before asking me how I thought we should handle the situation. But I wasn't sure either. There were just so many decisions to make. There'd be the name, the kids, the house.

"Okay, so what about the name?" Tom picked up the first challenge we had to face.

I wasn't sure why, but I suddenly felt embarrassed talking about this, even though I'd gone it through a million times in my head. I didn't mind changing my name. After all, I was still using Peter's name. But then, it was the kid's name, too. I certainly wanted to have the same name as the kids. Was that even possible if I was going to take Tom's name? And was I too ignorant to assume that Tom even wanted me to take his name. Deep inside I felt he would want me to take on his name, but he never mentioned it and that really irritated me. I wished he would have made clear that he wanted us both to carry the same name. I wasn't sure if I would take it, but at least I would have known what he thought. Tom always told me what he wanted out of our relationship. Maybe he wanted his name, the embodiment of his success, to himself? I was so full of doubt. My mind was racing and I felt confused. The long pause must have made Tom wonder.

"What are you thinking about? You know that you can tell me anything, Engel. If you don't want to take on my name, I'll take yours." He was serious. Expectant, Tom stared at me, while his fingers circled playfully around my navel.

I didn't know what to say. That statement hit me by utter surprise. From all the options I'd been going through, that one never seriously crossed my mind. "You can't do that, Tom," I incidentally dismissed his proposal, with an artificial chuckle. But Tom was dead serious. He immediately withdrew his hand from my tummy. His eyes widened.

"And why is that?" He sounded alarmed.

"Tom," I adjusted my tone to his. "You built an empire around your name. You can't just change it."

"I can if I want to, and I will if you choose not to take mine. I don't even give a shit about my name. It's not like it means anything. Who knows which pig even chose it? I want us to have the same name, Lisa, and I understand that you want the same name as the kids. So there are only so many options we have. You take mine and I adopt the kids, or..." That's where Tom stopped his listing. Suddenly shamefaced, Tom looked at me from the corner of his eyes before turning his gaze to his hands. "Sorry," he then mumbled. "I shouldn't have said that." Dropping his body back onto the mattress, Tom stared in the half-darkness at the ceiling, at the spot where the dimmed light cast a yellow circle.

Adoption? The word echoed in my head. Only moments earlier had I listened to Sam how disappointed he was that Tom did not want to be his father. And now, Tom slipped the ultimate. Staring at the same yellow shadow in the middle of the ceiling, the pause became too long, when Tom broke the silence. "Let's talk about that another time. Can we just forget I said that?"

Turning on my side, I looked into Tom's insecure face. "Is that what you want?" When he didn't answer, I added: "Adoption is a big step. A huge responsibility."

"I know, Lisa. I just want us to share everything. I want us to be one."

I wanted that too. So much. We finally agreed to discuss this matter with the kids when back in Australia.

"Only the house left to discuss then," I startled Tom.

"What?"

"Well," I took a deep breath, "I'm aware that it must be difficult for you to life in that house, and that maybe you'd like us to have our own."

"You want to move?" Tom questioned in surprise. Wrinkles on his usually smooth forehead became visible.

"Yes,- No," I mean, I don't care. Do you?" I had been thinking a lot about our living situation and was convinced that it would be best to have a fresh start in a new home, in our home.

"I thought you loved that house?" Tom was obviously confused. Rolling off him, I propped myself up on my elbow, looking at him from the side. To close the gap between us, Tom moved closer to me, pushing his arm underneath mine, gently stroking my hair at the back.

"I do. I did. I mean, I thought I did. I like it. It was all I ever possessed. It was my security blanket all those years, so it had become very important to me. But everything is different now. It must be weird for you living in that house."

"I don't care, Lisa. I want to be wherever you are happy." His fingers softly run over my shoulder, slowly all the way to my breasts. "I'm happy where ever you are." The way Tom circled his fingers over my skin, I knew this discussion was about to end. But it was important to me that he knew. Taking his hands in mine, I kissed them each and put them back around me, to avoid any sweet distractions.

"All those memories that this house brings with it must annoy you. It annoys me. It has good ones, the kids growing up in there. But there are also so many I just like to erase." Wow, that was the first time I admitted it to myself. Before, I'd always based my decision on Tom, how difficult it must be for him. Being honest with myself, I was the one longing for a fresh start.

"How about, when we're back, we'll start looking at properties around the area. No rush." There were his fingers again, teasing me.

"Sounds perfect."

It couldn't have been more than a few hours of sleep when an announcement through the speakers woke me. Ready for landing.

"Do you want to have a quick breakfast, Engel?" Tom asked, looking gorgeous in a black suit. There was my businessman, ready to take on the world. Looking at our reflections in the mirror, I was suddenly unsure if the white-orange summer dress had been the best choice for me to wear. Working on social projects, casual wear was often more than appropriate, but being on Tom's side as his partner, it made me wonder.

"No, maybe we can have an Indian breakfast at the airport? Or once we're at the place we're staying at. I'll just check if the kids want something to eat."

"They're already eating." Tom rested his head on my shoulder, joining in the mirror staring contest.