If We Love Again

Special Chapter: Massage

"WOULD YOU like a massage?" Lianne suddenly asks.

        "What type of massage?"

        "Uhm... regular?"

        "Oh," I stare at her and smile, "I thought you meant erotic massage."

        She narrows her eyes down at me and hits me with the throw pillow. I wince, surprised. "What was that for?"

        "Stop being a pervert, Lance might hear you!" she admonishes.

        "Lance will soon grow up and pretty soon, he'll learn about things like reproduction and adolescent stuff," I tell her pointedly.

        She purses her lips. "I don't want him to grow up," she says, shaking her head, not conceding to the fact I just said. "He'll always be my baby boy." She leans her head in my shoulder and sighs. "I wish he doesn't grow up. I just can't imagine it."

        "There's a solution for that."

        "What?"

        "Let's make a baby," I deadpan.

        She winces. "I can't... not yet," she says, her face contorting. "I'm scared of giving birth."

        I heave out a sigh. "You can't be scared forever."

        Ever since she watched that episode of National Geographic channel about giving birth, she started fearing childbirth. I tried to persuade her that it'll be fine and there were anesthesia's and methods that'd reduce the pain, but she still didn't want it. At least, not yet.

        I respect her decisions and I don't want to force her to something that she doesn't want. We've ended up deciding to do family planning, using natural methods and all that.

        "It's not just childbirth that I fear," she utters, biting her lower lip. "Even with Lance, I'm still scared. I have so many questions running in my head. What if I won't be able to raise him well? What if he'll drift away because I'm a horrible mother? What if I won't be able to provide what he needs? I don't want to ruin his future, you know."

        "You have no reason to be scared," I contradict, "We'll raise him together. And there will be a point that he'll drift away because that'll be part of his growth, but we'll guide him well anyway. The kid's happy with us and you're doing an impeccable job being his foster mother. And if ever his future would be ruined, it would not just be on you, but on me too. Don't think that you're going through this alone."

        "You always know the right word to say," she states, smiling. "Do you still want that massage?"

        "Alright."

        She stands up and positions herself at the back of the sofa. I feel her hands on my shoulders, and jokingly, I say, "Don't break my bones."

        "Don't underestimate my skills," she says haughtily. "I'll make you forget your name with my skillful hands."

        "Why does it sound like an invitation to bed coming from you?"

        "Earl, don't start," she warns.

        I chuckle amusingly. She's really unpredictable. Sometimes, I tried to read her mind and guess what she's thinking, and just when I finally thought that I was right, all my presumption ends up wrong when she becomes playful. Her moods shift haphazardly and that's one of the reasons why I love her to death.

        Her hands expertly start massaging my shoulders, and it actually feels good. "That feels good," I murmur, totally pleased by her dexterity. "How come you're good at this?"

        "I used to give Finn one back when we were togeth—" she halts, realizing what she just blurted out. "You know what, forget it."

        My lips curl into a grim line. A rush of jealousy surges through me. I think about how Lianne was like before with Finn. Was she sweet and affectionate? Were they love-dovey? Did she give him a good massage every time he was stressed? Did they kiss, hug and do things a lot of times? There are so many irrelevant questions rushing through my head.

        It's an irrational thought, but I can't help it. I trust Lianne, but not her past with Finn. Or Finn himself. "What were you and Finn like before?" I ask, trying to sound calm as possible, but the inquiry sounds like bile I've spat from my throat.

        "There's not much to tell," she replies hesitantly, "And I don't think it's necessary tell you." I remain silent, lost in my own thoughts. She sidles up next to me, hugging me tightly. "Please don't think of something you're not supposed to think."

        "Did you two do it?" I ask straightforwardly, demanding for honest answers.

        Her eyes widen, taken aback by my question. She shakes her head and responds, "Nothing happened. Al-almost, though. But throughout our relationship, w-we... just kissed," she stammers uncomfortably, "We didn't even reach second base."

        Her answer and honesty relieved me. I don't know what I'd feel if she'd say yes. Maybe I'll still be fine, but my jealousy would linger for a long time. Even the thought of having someone other than me kiss her makes me feel a twinge of jealousy, what more if something really happened.

        "Please stop thinking about it," she pleads, "I don't want you to be bothered by it. What's past is past."

        "Can I ask one more question?" I start and she nods. "Why didn't you do it? And have you ever thought of doing it with someone other than me?"

        She shakes her head. "Never. I couldn't picture doing that with someone I don't love wholeheartedly." She inhales deeply, expelling a heavy breath. "It's you. It has always been you. Even when we were apart, I couldn't picture a future with the others. You're stuck in my every system, Earl."