Reduced to Ruin

Chapter 29

My period came and went a few days later. I had now taken the pill for a full month, and I knew that signaled to James that now he had the green light—it was only a matter of time. I didn't know what his plans were, and I wished he would tell me. But I was too afraid to ask.

But my plans had stayed the same—keep your eye on the prize. We had gotten along really well that month, and I was often hanging out downstairs. One step closer.

A few nights after my period ended, James came upstairs and started cooking dinner.

"Hi," I said as I walked into the kitchen.

"Hi, beautiful."

He gave me a peck on the lips and poured a glass of wine for both of us.

"What do you have in the bags?"

"I'm making a baked Dijon salmon with stuffed bell peppers and salad, ma'am," he said in his best French accent.

"Oh, sounds delightful."

We clinked our wine glasses together.

"But, why aren't we cooking downstairs?"

"Oh, I don't know. I just thought it'd be nice and comfy up here."

Then I knew. This was it. I don't know how I knew. I just knew. I didn't say anything. And he didn't look at me.

Normally, dinner would've been delicious. I loved fish and stuffed bell peppers, but that night it all stuck in my throat. The dinner conversation felt strained, like a first date that was going downhill fast.

"Listen, Corrine. I know this is a little . . . awkward. I'm sorry if I don't know what to say."

"That's okay," I said dully.

We ate in silence for the rest of the meal. I was drinking more wine than I was eating food, but James didn't stop me when I kept refilling my own glass. If I was buzzed enough, maybe I could get through this. I was so relieved when he opened a second bottle.

I thought of Sophia then and how she spent so much time and energy fighting the inevitable. She was right—there was no sense in fighting it. I couldn't see myself ever enjoying it, but I did decide I was going to cooperate. After all, I tried reminding myself women had sex all the time when they didn't want to. So I would merely have to figure out how to do that, too.

After dinner, I began clearing the table.

"Just leave it. I can clean it up later."

"Are you sure?"

He gently grabbed my sweaty hand and led me to the bedroom. But I wasn't ready. I wanted to drink more. We were standing a foot away from the bed, and he began to kiss me lightly around my face—my cheeks, my forehead, my nose—but not my lips. I felt queasy.

"I know you're nervous," he whispered in my ear. "But, I promise, we'll take it slow."

Just make it fast, so we can get this over with.

He kissed me on the lips. He put his arms around my waist and gently lifted me up onto the bed, and then he lay next to me.

"I love you, Corrine. Thank you for this gift."

* * *

I wished I could say I liked it, that I found it as pleasurable as James did. But the truth was, it didn't feel good at all. What did I expect? I tried to relax, knowing it would hurt less if I did, but the more I tried to relax, the more my muscles tensed. James kissed my tears and tried to console me. I just wanted it over quickly.