And the one thing he needed most was the one thing I could not give. But maybe I could pretend for a minute, long enough for him to drift off again.
I kept my voice gentle.
“I’ll be here, Paul. You go to sleep now.”
I slid under the covers behind him. He released my arm and I moved to snuggle against him. I took a moment to pull my nightie closed, put my arm over his chest and pulled myself in tight against his back.
“Good night, Paul.”
His hand reached over, patted my hip tenderly.
“G’night, Jess.” His soft whisper trailed off almost immediately into an equally gentle snore.
I could feel his chest rise and fall under my arm. Despite the basic weirdness of the situation, being there felt pretty good. His warmth next to me was nice in the cool night. I decided to give him five minutes to fall completely asleep before I went back to my room.
I realized that I could once more smell him. Without thinking, I inhaled deeply, filled my lungs with him. There was something I couldn’t identify, something subtle but touching me lizard-brain deep. It set my heart pounding hard enough that for a moment I imagined it might wake up Devon across the hall.
I felt my tummy tighten and my nipples spring to attention. I gave a small gasp when Paul rolled over towards me. Automatically, I rolled myself, felt him spoon behind me. His arm came down over my waist, hugged me gently before his gentle snoring restarted.
I trembled a little, tried to think of Paul as Devon’s dad — the gentle, friendly, kind figure he’d always been.
Paul.
+
I awoke when the bed lurched under me. A distant streetlight seen through the window provided the only illumination.
Sheets in a tangle, crouched with his knees pulled up against his chest, there was a look of shock and horror on Paul’s face as he stared at his daughter’s best friend.
Obviously, I’d dozed off. Well, poop!
His eyes dropped from my face and his mouth fell open. My eyes followed his and I realized my nightie had fallen open during the night, leaving one breast exposed.
Not wanting to sit up, trying not to make a big deal of it, I grasped a lapel, pulled on it. It moved enough to cover my boob and that would do for now.
I tried to keep my voice soft, managed a decent smile.
“Hello, Paul. How are you feeling?”
“Sam… What are you doing here?”
I could see shame and worry building on his face.
He’d clearly forgotten the events of a few hours ago, so it was an obvious question, but my answering it properly would have required unzipping about three big bags of Embarrassing and I didn’t want to go there if I could help it.
“Paul,” I said, firmly, “nothing happened. We just slept.”
He turned to stare at the wall, obviously considering what to do. I reached up, took his head in my hands and turned to towards me.
“Paul,” I repeated gently, “We did nothing wrong.”
His eyes were closed. I pulled his head closer. “Look at me, Paul.”
His eyes opened, stared at me.
“Paul,” I whispered. “It’s just me, just Sam.”
OK, in for a dime, in for a dollar. Tell the truth.
“You were sleepwalking, Paul.”
That was enough. I didn’t want to mention his having mistaken me for Jessica just yet.
His blue eyes bored into mine. I’d tried to skip around the question, but now he froze suddenly, his eyes opening even wider. Obviously that particular memory had caught up to him all on its own. His face sagged into a map of remorse.
“I’m sorry, Sam. So very sorry.” I could see a tear in the corner of one eye.
“Don’t be silly, Paul. You just had a bad dream.” I tried to pull him into me, but he resisted.
“I thought you were…” His words were cut off by a ragged sob.
This time he didn’t resist when I put out my arms, pulled him against me – Basic Friendly Hug Therapy. I felt his arms close around my waist, softly at first, then with increasing, growing strength. His head fell to my shoulder.
“It’s OK, Paul. You loved her. very much.”
Under my arms, I felt his breath shift as he fought his regret, his loss. He took a deep gulp of air, started to let it out slowly. Instead, it turned into a shudder, then a growing series of quiet sobs. I felt another tear on my neck, another, then a broken-hearted Paul wept nine years of grief and loneliness.
I’d never had a child cry in my arms before, much less a grown man, but every woman is wired at the factory, if not for compassion, then at least for empathy. Tears were the medicine he needed and I let him go on, held myself to merely stroking his hair and whispering soft words as soothingly as I could. For some reason I couldn’t put my finger on, he’d never seemed so lovable as he was now. Maybe it was his vulnerability, I don’t know.
My robe had fallen open and I could feel his cheek whiskers on my breast. It didn’t matter. I found myself clutching him into me, harder now, felt my heart fill with love for this poor, decent, tormented man.
“It’s OK, Paul,” I whispered. “It’s OK, baby. I’m here.”
It went on a long time. He’d cried himself out and had essentially fallen asleep again when was a gentle knock at the door.
“Daddy?” came Devon’s voice. “Dad? Are you OK?”
I gave Paul a soft kiss on the temple.
“You sleep, Paul. I’ll get this.”
I slid out of bed, made darned sure my gown was closed and, blocking the line of sight into the room with my body, opened the door.
Devon’s jaw dropped. I pushed through the opening, pulled the door shut behind me.
“Sam?” Her eyes were wide. “What…?”
This discussion was so not going to happen where it might wake Paul up again. I put a finger to my lips, took her firmly by the upper arm and dragged her down the hallway.
Her face was flushed, filled with shock and wonder. I could see anger sweeping in, too – at whom, I wondered? Me? Paul? Both of us? Herself?
I grabbed her by both hands.
“He was sleepwalking, Devon,” I said. “He needed somebody. I put him to bed and dozed off myself.”
She stared at me, not understanding a word.
Devon and I had been friends forever. We’d had the odd quarrel, but never a serious fight; I wasn’t going to let this develop into one, especially not over a misunderstanding.
“Nothing happened, Devon.” I told the flat truth as sincerely as I could, praying she’d believe me.
“Whose idea was this, Sam?” She’d calmed down, but her voice was still cautious. I could see the wheels going round and round in her mind. Had I seduced her father? Had her father, turning his back on both her and her mother, seduced her own best friend?
I looked her straight in the eyes. “Nobody’s idea, Devon, it just happened. I got up in the middle of the night for a glass of water and he was still in the chair. I put him to bed and was leaving when he caught me by the hand, thinking I was your mom.”
I thought her eyes had been wide before.
“He didn’t do anything, Devon. He just wanted to cuddle the wife he’d been dreaming about. I felt so sad for him, so I spooned behind him and he went right to sleep. I meant to slip out, but I fell asleep, too.”
Her face softened, just a little. We were besties, after all; I could see her long-standing trust winning out. A moment later, she nodded slightly, not entirely convinced but giving me the benefit of the doubt. I pulled her in for a much-needed hug.