It was one evening, much like all the others that Beth was round, that she spontaneously suggested we live together. We were lying in bed watching a wildlife documentary when she brought it up.
'It's not a bad idea, is it?' She was asking, whilst nervously intertwining her own fingers.
'I suppose not.'
'I mean, I'm here most nights anyway.'
'Mmm.' I agreed noncommittedly; trying hard to concentrate on a herd of wildebeest crossing a river.
'We'll save money. We could go on holiday.'
'That would be nice.'
'Are you okay?'
'Hm?'
'Are you okay? You seem quiet.'
'No, no. I'm fine.' I shuffled further under the covers and turned onto my side. 'I'm just tired.'
I wasn't tired. But I also wasn't fine. I felt trapped. I had envisioned my life after leaving Dovid following a path where I could be happy. Where one day I'd find Ronit, or at least someone else that made me feel how Ronit did. But again, I had fallen deeply into a crevasse, sinking into something I didn't really want. Conforming and submitting to whatever someone else wanted, for the reprieve of loneliness, to avoid the overwhelming fear of becoming unstable again.
Beth leaned over me, she kissed and bit my bottom lip which I didn't enjoy, but never mentioned. Her fingers trailed down, until they reached in between my legs. I held her wrist.
'I'm so tired, Beth.'
'You've said that almost every night this week.' Beth continued to stroke me, regardless. 'You're quite pale. Do you think you need more iron?'
'Maybe.'
She kissed me. I didn't think of Ronit anymore when she did that. Because now I'd become so aware of their differences, I could never imagine Ronit's mouth being half as jarring as Beth's was.
'I miss how you taste.' She said, and I cringed but I rolled over and kissed her back, letting my tongue play with hers.
I made the stupid mistake of faking an orgasm the first time with her, so she continued to do exactly what she'd done then; that was my fault. You might think that faking one or two wouldn't hurt, but once you start it's hard to stop, and then you begin to convince yourself that maybe you are climaxing but in reality, you know you're not.
In fairness to her, towards the end of our relationship she was starting to make me come more consistently, after I specifically asked her to steady her tongue, and to hold her fingers inside me instead of thrusting. Having to spell it out was wearisome in the beginning but she had started to adapt to it, and after a while I did start to enjoy it.
I always made her come; I don't mean it in a boastful way, it was just something I could do. It made me feel less guilty when I did that, like I was giving her something back, a reward for the pain I was going to cause her one day, because I knew I could never give her my heart. Annoyingly, she made a habit of pointing it out every time.
'I came, like,' She was panting one evening, her arms splayed out either side of her. 'Five times. I ca- can't believe you've only- been with one other girl.'
The sex did improve. But my favourite times with Beth were when she cooked, when she held me at night, and in the mornings. When she was quiet or concentrating on something. Whenever I saw her teach and interacting with students. In those times I genuinely thought, perhaps I could be with her. They were all redeeming features that made her likeable. But nothing made her Ronit. And I knew we wouldn't last forever.
