Falling Walls (III)

Chapter 18

Pregnant? Was Tom her lost child? I couldn't get rid of this feeling and as much as I tried to tell myself that it was impossible, it might have. Documentation could have been lost, faulted - but why? It didn't make sense. All the brooding drove me insane. I shut the book a tad too loudly. Tom looked up from the screen on his desk, raising his eye brows in question?

"Just too confusing," I answered hastily before he could ask any specific questions. But instead of devoting himself back to his computer, Tom got up and strode towards me. His eyes browsed over the book cover next to me. My heart raced as his glance lingered there for a while, then moved up to meet mine.

"One of your work books?" My heart seemed to stop. If Tom was Eva's son, wouldn't he feel something when looking at her picture. Wasn't there meant to be this special bond between a mother and her child? I tried to imagine if I would recognise my children, were I ever to be separated by them. As much as I tried though, it was impossible. They were in their pre-teens now. Had I only seen them as toddlers or babies? I wasn't sure. Would they recognise me? No, I didn't think so.

While I followed my trail of thoughts, Tom picked up the book. The mattress gave way underneath him as he sat down and leaned back. With concentration his eyes moved over the back of the book. My hands turned moist as I stared at him without being able to detect a single expression in his features.

By the time Tom finished with the synopsis, my hands were so wet that I involuntarily wiped them on the bed sheet. Tom turned the book over and now stared at the image of Eva. The image of his mother?

After seemingly endless minutes, Tom shrug, accompanied by a simple "hm". He placed the book back onto the bed next to me. His arm leaned over my hips and his face moved closed to mine. I could feel his warm breath tickling the length of my arm, then my neck.

"She is speaking here in Hamburg on Wednesday," I blurted out before our lips could touch.

"Hm?" Tom briefly shrug back, then his lips were back buried in my neck.

"Eva," I explained. The author of the book I'm reading. She's talking about her book here in Hamburg on Wednesday. We should go."

"Sounds interesting," Tom responded, syllable by syllable, between kisses to the bottom of my chin.

"Are you going to come?" I took my chance. It didn't seem to trigger any emotion from Tom. So I might as well, I thought. 

I felt the air deflate from his lungs, then his lips left my skin wanting. Tom looked at me, his eyes wide. For a while, silence lingered between us. He seemed to be in deep thought. The lump in my throat made it hard to swallow. Finally, Tom broke the silence. "Engel, I'm sure her story is interesting, but I don't think there are enough of those GDR escape cases for us."

I really didn't know what to expect from him, but this was not one of the options I had in mind. Instead of feeling guilty or upset, I had the need to defend myself. I explained to Tom that I was well aware of that but it would be worthwhile exploring anything. His eyes were on me, but I could tell that he really looked into the empty space between us. It took him a while to collect himself before a deflated "Okay" accompanied a shoulder shrug and deep deflation. "I guess we can always incorporate GDR escape and separation cases in other programs. I think it's a great idea, darling." Somehow I had the feeling he was being sarcastic. After a bit more back and forth, Tom agreed to come along to the session. 

The mood had shifted after this and Tom made his way back to the computer. Taking the book, I went into the lounge room. I needed silence and no Tom distractions to read on. Entering the open room, I was greeted again by the mesmerizing night skyline of Hamburg. Instead of sitting down to read, I helped myself to a glass of wine from the liquor cabinet. I had no idea if this was a special bottle but I was certain it should breathe before I drank it. But why should I change old habits now. With a full glass, I sat down on the lounge. My eyes were glued on the skyline though. Out there were so many people missing others, searching for them. Maybe one of them was looking for the love of my life. Out there was so much happiness and misery, luck and misfortune, hope and despair, and I felt like they fused together in this very apartment. I was pushing him, I knew that, but at the same time, I had to find out. I had to hear Eva talk and I had to see Tom see her. I wanted him to be happy, in all aspects of his life. I needed him to be. Tom had given up hope but I still believed that someone out there missed him.

I have no idea how long I sat there for, but at some point I found myself standing in front of the large glass wall, taking occasional sips from my glass, lost in the monologue in my head, when I felt Tom's silent breath dance over my arms. From behind, his arms slid underneath mine, his head cradling in the fold of my neck. The familiar soft touch of his lips against my skin gave me goosebumps. I'm pretty sure a moan escaped my throat because Tom's lips against my jawline stretched to a bright smile. 
"That's a beautiful sight!" Tom whispered into my ear.
I agreed,  but had the feeling we weren't really talking about the same.
The prickling of my nerves spread through my body. I lost complete control of my senses when Tom squatted down and kissed his way up my legs, my hips, then the length of my torso, lifting my dress up with his head. His hands slid in synchronized movements up my back. My feet felt wobbly and shaky and not that I cared much at the time, but I wasn't sure how much longer I could hold up my body. I stumbled when his mouth made contact with my bra. His hands slid around to remove the obstacle, pushing it up as his lips follow. Some of the wine spilled over, onto the window and floorboards.  I tried to push away,  wanting to clean up the mess I made but Tom protested.
"Don't worry about it," he assured me,  stretching out his hand to take the glass off me and placing it on the table next to us,  all without breaking contact with his lips.