The Tug of War

The Tug of War Part 2

Surprised, Maya raised her head, after a slight pause, he opened the door and came inside.
     He had on his fluffy white toweled bathrobe, the cord carelessly tied round his middle. "My back's going nuts." He explained his presence with grim impatience. "Would it be too much trouble to massage it? I realize you're tired."
     "No, of course not!" She said simply. As always, when he was in pain, she was eager to relieve it. "Your bed or mine?" She added flippantly. She longed to hear the answer she so desperately wanted him to say, 'but that would be too much to ask,' thought Maya, who noticed the look of dismay on Kyle's face.
     "Ah!" One brow quirked and she flushed wildly, belatedly conscious of how that must sound, although, Kyle merely looked faintly amused. "The chair will do." He spoke, abruptly and crossed the room to the divan.
     It was a large and comfortable sleeper type suede chair. She had spotted it and ordered it from an upscale furniture store a few months ago, it caught her attention primarily because she loved blue, and the suede fabric felt like silk along the palm of her hand. The chair was big enough for four, but comfortable and built for two. 'two people who are in love,' she wanted to wail, but spoke no word. Maya looked at the chair. It was beautiful. 'Hello,' she reminded, 'that's the reason you had purchased it,'
     She had imagined them both curled atop the leather snug as a bug in the middle of a winter hibernation period, they'd shared sensual kisses and they'd watched television in her dreams. But, artsy Kyle had wanted his large black leather couch in the living area, she had reluctantly agreed to put the blue sofa chair into one of their spare bedrooms, a room she had moved into a few weeks past. Yes, she told herself, while she massaged and kneaded her strong hands into Kyle's shoulders, the chair was intended for people who longed to love, people who breathed for love and people who could not live without love, not to be stuck in a spare room like an old rocking chair that Grandmother had suddenly dismissed. The chair was bought for them, it was her gift to their new home, she had wanted to sit in the luxurious suede and cuddle, that's what she'd envisioned when she'd swiped her credit card and sealed the sale, an expression of love, not a massage she felt duteous to perform.
     Throughout her dating years, thirty-six year old, tall, blonde and blue eyed Maya could not think of one man who had ever made her feel so unwanted. Okay, aside from Kyle who was her sixth boyfriend, she had only dated five men tops, and even though the relationships had ended abruptly, mostly by her desire to be free, she had remained on good terms with her ex partners. She was even friends with some past lovers, especially her very first love James, who had lately become both her psychiatrist and shoulder to cry on. 'Yes,' Maya shook her head and pressed into Kyle's upper back. 'In times of need she could always count on James.' He was a good friend. 'every time she had rung on the telephone, which lately seemed to be in the middle of the night, James had not complained. 'No,' she brooded, 'he had listened quietly with no interruption while she spoke about her problems and sorrows down the phone line and he never sounded bothered if her calls woke him up, he was happy to offer his friendship. Such is James, kind, noble and sweet James. It was too bad they had separated, they were like peas in a pod, equally alike and both full of fantastic dreams, and ideas that never quite came into fruition, the want was there, it was time and money that held them back.
     James was an artist, and like most artists, he struggled to meet his monthly allocation. His income depended heavily on an art sales, if he didn't sell a painting it would become tough for him to cover expenses. His rent and auto payments depleted most sales for he was always one or two payments behind. Maya caught her breath. 'James may not have fame or fortune, but he was happy,' She had money and she was miserable. It didn't seem fair.
     Maya had met James at art college, she had dreams of becoming and interior designer, him a famous artist, and while she had been able to attain her goals, James was living month to month selling one painting at a time. He never appeared stressed, he possessed a happy, carefree attitude towards life. And, despite being interrupted while he worked on a new art project, he'd answered her midnight phone calls with the same enthusiasm and kindness as her early morning 'how are you?' calls. That was the joy of having James as a friend, he was a caring and nurturing man. Some days, like today, Maya had spent hours wondering if there could possibly be another James, another lover who could make her feel desired, especially when Kyle acted like a no-good son of a bitch.
     Suddenly, Maya was distracted by the faint sound of music that played in the bathroom. Ironically it was a song by one of her favorite boy bands The Backstreet Boys and the song was uncannily entitled 'Quit Playing Games With My Heart' At fifteen years old, she was deeply in love with band member Brian, she'd been crushed when he'd married, she'd idolised him. Brian was her knight in shining armor or so she had dreamt. 'Ha,' she scoffed and hummed along to the lyrics. 'you had big dreams, kiddo,' she told herself, and before she could stop, she started to sing, aloud. "I should have known from the start, duh ,der, um,' she'd forgotten the lyrics.  Kyle stiffened, she quickly changed her rock star stance and focused on his back. 'Kyle, Kyle, Kyle, you will make me crazy,' Maya buzzed in silence. She wondered if her hero was happily married or if his life was miserable like her own? She wished him a joyous marriage, if only to retain hope that love does exist and, if only to lift her battered soul from the bottom of the gutter.
     A gutter of a hellhole, a place she'd visited on a regular basis lately. 'Hail to days spent in the sewer,' she wanted to toast, knowing days in the drain were the days Maya would reach out to James, per usual he was eager to offer advice and ease her broken heart with kindness, inspiration and logic.
     'Yes,' Maya shrugged. She rubbed Kyle's back harder. A slight murmur escaped his solemn lips. She concluded he was pleased with her performance and she drifted back to James. He was a logical man, 'everything happens for a reason' should have been added onto his birth certificate. He was a good friend, a true friend. Absolutely nothing she had ever confided had ever come back to haunt her. James kept her problematic relationship top secret, 'from your lips to God's ear,' said James on occasions she'd sworn him not to talk about her chaotic living arrangement. James was perfect in every way, the fact he now preferred men instead of women didn't bother her in any imaginable way. 'Well, it did a bit,' she admitted. She dug harder into Kyle's upper back and wiggled her nose. An irritating itch was bothering her and she longed to scratch her nose, but Maya knew that would disturb Kyle, and she like Kyle rested. 'Good ole James,' she thought wistfully. He was the brother she never had and he held a dear part in her heart. 'Still does, and always will.' She hastened and moved her neck in a small circle, she listened as it cracked. Another sign, she was stressed and tense. 'And, no surprise that Kyle pretended not to notice,' Maya used her index fingers to dig deeper into the tissue along his shoulder blades. 'He was probably sleeping,' She suspected. She dug even deeper just to check. He didn't move.
     What was wrong with Kyle? She drew a deep breath. How could he not see that it was she who loved him so?
     And, worse, why was she even here with him? He didn't appear to want her for anything but a back rub, yet she knew she had more to offer.
     Some months ago, Kyle had thought so too, he'd been excited and happy with the prospect of them living together, no more deciding whose house to stay at after another fabulous date night ended. Their dates had been spent at their local comedy show or the theater, and either on his boat or at the beach.
     Despite the cool ocean water, they'd taken long strolls along the South Florida beaches. Many a moonlit night, absorbed in kisses, a feverous tingle had flushed their body temperature, and neither could contain the desire that burned deep within, like volcanic lava rushed through their bodies. 'The hot sparks of passion were fabulous,' Maya reflected. She stopped the rub down and scratched her itchy nose. 'Those days were awesome,' she moved her hands back to Kyle. The passion was the turning point in their relationship. She noted. When they'd dated, they'd been so eager to become one, unified, through lust and eager to make love. It didn't matter where they were, they'd both darted to whoever's apartment was closest, so they could spend the night together. They were ecstatic, they were in love, they were obsessively lost in lust and they longed to fulfil each other's desire.
     A desire to become united led them to house hunt so they could take their relationship forward, after they'd found a house, they'd both smiled, a sheepish, smirk. They knew they'd never again experience the anxiety they'd shared on bleak mornings when they'd parted ways. Maya grimaced. She clearly remembered the sorrow that knotted inside the pit of her stomach when a date night ended, it was awful, and both had been miserable. They equally, loathed the work week mornings, especially after they'd showered and spoke in unison 'goodbye, see you later.' Kyle had explained, countless times that they were soul mates, and their heart and mind should be together. She'd agreed, and tonight, here she stood, even more confused than ever. She sensed she'd rushed the relationship, they'd hardly known each other. 'yes,' thought Maya, 'but it had felt so right. 'the morning goodbyes were hell on earth.' She paused, in remembrance, 'none of their fights made any sense, they shouldn't be in combat.'
     Maya drew another deep breath, and let out a yawn. She could almost sob, they were most certainly at war, neither had exchanged anything other than a few pleasantries. The knowledge made her sad. She moved her fingers upward and rubbed Kyle's neck. She tried to focus on her finger pressure which dug into his neck tissue, she was somewhat relieved Kyle couldn't read minds, yet a part of her willed him too, so he would know, despite their turbulent quarrels, she was still his girl.
     She shrugged. She remembered when they'd dated, they'd been so thirsty for each other, and couldn't wait to make contact. The morning after a date night, she'd kiss Kyle goodbye, and she'd not sat in her car for five minutes before Kyle would call her mobile, he'd begged her to turn her car around and come back. Maya felt glum, an ache pursed deep in her chest. She saddened more, she knew those heartfelt days were before the crisis that deemed adamant to destroy them tonight. It was as if their romance had been a dream that had never happened, a dream they'd both lost, she feared tonight's tension might never end.
     Consumed with a wild fear of their future together, or an end to their romance, and reluctantly, she dredged down memory lane to remember the days they'd tortuously parted and gone to work.
     Some mornings, usually no longer than an hour into her work day, flowers were delivered via a cheery courier. Kyle had gifted roses or daisies, her favorite flower and if the florist had neither, a huge assortment of blooms cluttered her average size wooden desk. She was overwhelmed and space limited. And, she'd joked to co-worker Sarah that Kyle was a born romantic, who loves flowers and couldn't be stopped. Her employer Maggie who deemed flowers and work deterrent, interfered, and forcibly, Maya agreed, but secretly she loved the attention.
     These days, she'd be lucky if she got fresh cut grass from a morning lawn trim from their rusty mower, not that Kyle liked to garden, it was she who was left with home maintenance, Kyle was normally busy with cookery classes in the kitchen.
     She pulled her jumbled thoughts together, 'this was about a flaw in their relationship, not a fantasy fest down memory lane.' She scolded. 'Yes,' Maya agreed. 'I know I've got to make amends, but my, those seriously were the good old day,' she swiftly moved her left hand from Kyle's neck and rubbed her itchy nose, again.
     "Are you, all right?" Kyle inquired. He stirred slowly, she could tell he was comfortable and he didn't want to move.
     She was hesitant to reply, if he wasn't being stroked by her hands, she'd have feigned sleep. Anything to disturb the stillness that encased the atmosphere. She enjoyed the quietness and hoped it would last throughout the night. She didn't want another fight to explode between them, they both appeared to be completely devoted to a peaceful end to an earlier divided march.
     "Did you hear me?" He sounded brash. Maya knew she'd asked for more than was granted for a truce with Kyle. She was surprised by his bombastic tone. He'd been so quiet, she'd thought he'd fallen asleep. "Yes," Maya said crisply. "a nose itch." She moved her hands from Kyle's neck and rubbed his bicep and triceps. She manipulated his muscles until Kyle relaxed into a trance like demeanor. She like it when she saw him free from tension. He was hardly ever fully at ease. Anxiety was a trait they both shared.
     'Strange connection,' she admitted, she let her long fingers caress Kyle's soft, manly skin. She could smell a faint hint of his aftershave and she longed to lean forward. She cursed herself bitterly and pressed her thumbs into the contracted knots that caused him pain and tightness. She knew the exact amount of pressure to bring the most relief. Kyle's head drooped forward, and Maya smiled, he enjoyed her attention.  "Okay," she corrected. "He enjoyed massage."
     He certainly did, she had observed his devotion to muscle manipulation for almost two years. Kyle was a frequent customer at Catalina Spa in trendy Coral Gables. He admired and respected the artistry. Kyle was greedily indulgent to the attentive treatments offered at the Spa. 'he liked to feel pampered,' Maya determined. 'who didn't?' Kyle was especially thrilled by the rigorous touch of his masseuse Ida. She always sent him home happy, even if he didn't stay merry for too long after his arrival. He did appreciate a good body rub. Kyle would profess in much animation how relaxed he was under Ida's touch. He'd vigorously talk for hours about how skilled Ida was in her technique. Kyle's face was ablaze with gratitude to Ida, then he'd bombard Maya with comments and explanations depicting the magic of Ida. Some day's it was almost intolerable and Maya wanted to vomit. It was Ida this and Ida that, and so on. 'Kyle oblivious to her feelings,' Maya deduced. 'stop being a jealous troll,' she cautioned. 'he's not doing anything weird. He works hard. Some men play golf, Kyle was addicted to the release of stiffness.' She twitched her nose for what seemed the tenth time. 'that sounds bad,' she almost giggled, fortunately she controlled her gut feeling. Laughing would annoy Kyle. He'd think she was giggling at him. 'it would almost be true.' Maya confessed. She found the word 'stiff' humorous.
     She cautioned, gathered her composure and pressed deeper into the tissue that enclosed Kyle's strength.  His body slackened even more under the pressure of her strong hands. 'stop being a baby,' she frowned. 'Ida is no competition for you, she's frigging hired help, and paid to perform a service, you're his girlfriend, you come first.' She tapped her foot on the floor, the beat of another song played on her music player. She'd found solace in the tunes before Kyle had come to the room. she'd forgotten to turn it off when he'd asked for a rub down. She could not resist, and she swayed to beats she enjoyed. Yes, she was living dangerously, 'To heck with Ida,' Maya smiled and blinked a few times. 'Ida cannot replace you,' she frowned. 'well, not without a fight.' 
     Yeah, it's pretty clear, I ain't no size two.  But I can shake it, shake it, like I'm supposed to do. I'm, all about that bass, about that bass, not treble.
     Meghan Trainor sang.
     Maya Carter stopped and stifled a sigh. She was back to the sensitive stage of Ida's existence. Bitterly, and with regret, Maya's fierce competitor Ida had somewhat, almost devilishly taunted her to master the art of massage therapy. She had accepted the bait, even If she did find the routine tedious. 'like right now,' thought Maya, she raised her hands up Kyle's chest and gently tugged on his brown, unruly hair. She toyed with the idea to entangle her fingers into his curly strands, and, 'Careful,' she said. No need for another episode of War and Peace.
     She stifled another sigh. She pondered why Kyle didn't get a professional massage earlier today? 'Why come to me?' she asked, 'especially since he'd berated her for most of the evening. He'd even gone so far as to insinuate that she was USELESS!
     Why?
    'Ignore him,' Maya agreed. 'what had happened earlier was over and done, no amount of questioning or analyzing was going to change the ghastly evenings verbal abuse,' she moved her hands down the nape of Kyle's neck and pushed hard with both thumbs. His neck cracked.
     "Ouch!" He exclaimed with a yelp.

Copyright © Suzi Bay 2017