Trust (Part Three/Five)

Trust: Three/Five 

Carth had intended to make love to Morgana one night a few moths later while Dustil was playing over at Yun’s house again, but it just hadn’t worked out. When he could finally convince her to give it a shot (as she never liked to, because of her father), he lost his interest in it – and not intentionally, which was horrifying. She looked at him with those dull, accusing eyes, and rolled away from him, and fell asleep. He couldn’t remember when the hating of Morgana had started, but it was infecting him, somewhere in the pit of his body – and watching her lay there snoozing he felt a sudden flush of rage. He hated her, the way she always picked at him, waiting for him to do something against her – like she didn’t trust him. She, who had once been slim and pretty and full of light laughter, was now round and bland and stiff, and ugly. He hated the blunt curve of her nose, which had once been so appealing, and the fleshy bumps of her tits which Dustil had sucked dry, and which lay flat on the fatty swell of her belly, when they had once been small and fresh. He hated the sound of her speech, how sharp it was with the inflections of her old home planet, her laughter which was shrill and mostly insincere now, and above all he hated the suspicious, stupid, dark blue tempest of her eyes.

Yun’s eyes were dark blue, but they were never ugly, because Yun was never jealous. And Yun’s accent wasn’t harsh, or shrill, but smooth and easy. Yun was not Morgana.

It wasn’t late at night, Carth thought, looking out the window at the pale pink of the horizon. The sun was gone, but its light remained, kissing the mountaintops with shades of orange and gold. He rolled out of bed, pulling on his pants and a sweater, throwing one last resentful look at his wife, who snored faintly.

There was love still in there, pushing against the insides of Carth’s heart, but its potency had dulled. It lay slumbering in his chest, for now, unprovoked.

He headed across the street, determined not to think about it. As he trudged across the lawn he tricked himself into believing that he was only taking a break, going to see his friend when he had nothing else to do, instead of what was really happening: he was leaving his wife to go see Yun.

In the past four months, they had grown to be good friends. Carth had been coming in and out of town, because the Republic’s need was becoming greater and greater as the Sith went around strategically bombing separate planets. But every time he came back, there was celebration, and Yun’s smiling face.

Yun was smiling at him now. He and the boys were playing a board game in which the holographic pieces (very convincingly) acted out death scenes when they lost. Dustil ran up and embraced him as though he had not seen Carth in ages, and Carth heaved the little boy up on his shoulder. Dustil’s asthma was at its worst as summer reached its peak. He wheezed in his father’s ear despite his enormous grin. He was beginning to take after Kori and Yun by way of smiles.

“Pa!” Dustil trumpeted – he was nine years old, now, and becoming more difficult to carry.

“Hello, Carth,” Yun chimed. “Bit late to be checking in, isn’t it?”

Carth must have had a look on his face, because Yun’s good humor dropped like a mask. Perhaps it was a mask.

“You kids just keep on playing, ayuh?” Yun stood, gently nudging Kori off of his lap. Kori stumbled as he moved to stand, and his visor was knocked off of his nose. There were a few seconds where his face was exposed, then; two wide, blank eyes stared into space, colored a pale, filmy blue, but then Kori cried out and quickly put his visor back on, turning away. Carth averted his gaze, but not before he saw Dustil coming up behind Kori and embracing him tenderly.

Yun was upon him, wrapping his arm around Carth’s hips (Carth had become immune to this casual invasion of personal space) and guided him out of the room.

“Are you all right?” Yun whispered in Carth’s ear once they were clear of the kids.

“Been better.”

Yun was working his fingers into the small of Carth’s back. If Carth had one weakness, it was massages. He immediately began to relax under Yun’s ministrations. “You can tell me anything,” Yun soothed, leading Carth up the stairs. Carth had no idea where he was going, but he hardly cared.

“I don’t know if I can,” Carth mumbled, mostly to himself, watching the floor move underneath his feet.

“I’d tell you anything, anything you wanted.” Yun sat Carth down on the bed, and settled himself down beside his friend. This whole thing wasn’t quite enough, and already Carth was debating leaving, when Yun murmured in his ear, “I trust you.”

Through everything, Morgana had never said this, this single vital piece; and when Yun leaned in to kiss him, Carth didn’t fight him. The night slipped by under euphoric hours, and as two men discovered silent secrets their sons didn’t bother them once. Perhaps the children understood the vital nature of this arrangement; or perhaps they were only caught up in their own blooming kinship.

Yun was nothing like Morgana. Where Morgana was dry, and hot, he was cool and slick, all working muscle and endless planes of human shape, not broken up by awkward feminine curves. Where Morgana needed to be coached and guided, Yun improvised, or even led. Morgana was bland, and predictable, while Yun was spontaneous and wild, even just in his kisses, which Carth was quickly addicted to. And through it all they shared kisses, mysterious whispers, shy laughter, and Carth, so enamored, forgot all about Morgana eventually, and felt no guilt at all.

That was, until morning, when he felt Yun’s gentle breath on his neck, a new male body pressed against his own, smooth and lean – not Morgana. Kori and Dustil were banging on the door, asking whether or not they were going to eat breakfast, and if Yun could help them turn on the holovid player, because they couldn’t figure it out.

It was well into morning, and Morgana was most certainly awake, and when Carth looked he saw that Yun was smiling at him, his nose flushed pink as his fingers played, tracing forbidden stories on Carth’s skin. Carth went home shaking and violently ill; Morgana didn’t ask where he had been, and only watched him with her dumb, dull eyes, warning him not to eat that way, or he would choke, and was Kori coming over to play tonight?

Carth forced himself to fall asleep watching holovids that afternoon, so that he wouldn’t have to sleep next to Morgana. It wasn’t that he felt that he had wronged her, that it would be like poison to be with her, but rather he didn’t want to break that sensation, that feeling of Yun – he didn’t want to loose it. Sleeping with his wife would destroy the illusion.

The terrible guilt he felt, which was so painful it made his stomach cramp and his hands tremble, was enough, however. He did not come over on the nights that Yun cooked anymore. He hardly even crossed the street anymore. And Morgana, curled up in her chair like a big fat cat, would smile smugly at him; at this image, his gut would clench and he would feel the absurd urge to be sick.

When Dustil complained about seeing Kori less often, Carth smacked him. It was the first and last time he ever hit his son out of anger.

- to be continued

- Note: I can't know what I'm doing wrong if no one tells me what I'm doing wrong.