Issues of Trust and Love

The camera lay on the table between them, next to the bottle of wine, a symbol of exactly how far their relationship had come or rather a symbol of how far Tomas wished it had come, he was not sure if she was there with him yet. Agatha sat on a cushion opposite, she hugged her knees tightly, obscuring the best parts of her nakedness, and chewed her bottom lip. She looked anxious and, to him, intoxicatingly vulnerable.

Tomas stretched his legs out under the low table between them and rubbed her knee with his foot, they were both sitting on the floor and there were candles all around throwing flickering light across her beautiful face. The roses he had bought her sat on the nightstand, blood red and as perfect as she was.

‘If you don’t want to, Agatha, then we won’t. I thought it would be fun, something different, but if you don’t trust me enough…’ he let his sentence trail off knowing she would feel the sting of accusation in his words.

‘I do trust you,’ she replied, too quickly to reassure him. Her claims to trust him had become almost like a defence mechanism to prevent a recurring argument which she was unable to win.

‘I suppose I deserve that,’ he went on as if she had not spoken at all. She was easy to ignore sometimes, especially when she had this weak look in her eyes and tried too hard to please him even when he deliberately asked for things she did not want to do. ‘I know I hurt you,’ he continued. ‘I have apologised so many times and I have worked hard since then to build a future for us. Can’t you forgive me one foolish mistake?’

‘You have worked hard,’ she conceded, avoiding discussing his infidelity. She had never been able to speak of it and that disappointed him. She had been so spirited before, full of joy and confidence. He had confessed everything to her expecting a ferocious fight and an explosive reconciliation but instead she had been quietly hurt and endlessly needy since. She barely let him out of her sight and he could feel her judging him each time he returned home late or forgot to call her.

‘I do trust you,’ she repeated insistently, almost slightly belligerently. ‘If I didn’t I would have left by now.’ That was a little more like the old Agatha, a bit more spirited. ‘I’m just not sure I trust myself. What if we take them and when I look at them I hate what I see?’

‘Then we delete them, it’s a digital camera.’ He tried to speak patiently but her latest ploy irritated him, she would blame herself for being weak instead of getting angry with him and he was loosing respect for her.

‘As simple as that?’ she asked. ‘No argument?’

‘No argument,’ he agreed.

She fell silent again, taking a large mouthful of wine and watching the ruby liquid as it swirled around in the bottom of her glass. Tomas considered pouring her some more but she had already drunk half the bottle and he didn’t want her to accuse him of getting her drunk and abusing her trust.

‘Don’t worry,’ he told her. He got up and went around to her side of the table. ‘If you liked the idea you wouldn’t need to think about it so much.’ He put his arms around her from behind, hugging her cold body close and resting his cheek on the smooth skin of her back. Her heart thudded reassuringly beneath his ear.

‘I don’t want to let you down,’ she whispered, her voice vibrating through her rib cage.

‘Shh,’ he calmed her. ‘You never let me down, you are my perfect angel.’

‘Mmm,’ she said and he knew she didn’t believe him. Perhaps he had hurt her too much and he had certainly misjudged her badly. That kind of mistake was not usual for him, if he had suspected she would break apart like this he would never have admitted sleeping with someone else. It was as though her whole personality had altered when he delivered that news, she went to bed upset and woke up as someone entirely different.

‘I just want you,’ he murmured into the thick curls of her hair. He wrapped his arms tighter and finally felt her relax a little. ‘I just want you.’

She squirmed in his grasp and, for a moment, he feared that she would break free and flee to get dressed but instead she wriggled around until she could kiss him. Her lips were soft and she tasted of red wine and lipstick.

‘Maybe we could leave the camera there this time?’ she asked shyly, refusing to raise her eyes and meet his gaze.

‘Sure,’ he told her, ‘whatever you want, angel.’

She stood up, unfolding from the floor until her wonderful nakedness was revealed. She took his hand and pulled him up, the muscles in her arms tensed as she took his weight and gave shadowed shape to her slender frame.

‘Come to bed with me,’ she half asked and half ordered, he did not need to be told twice. She led the way, guiding him between the cushions and clothes which littered the floor. He threw back the covers and laid her down. ‘What are you smiling for?’ she asked, rolling him onto his back and kissing him deeply.

‘I’m happy,’ he replied through her kissed knowing that the tiny camera in the ceiling above their heads would capture everything and her image would be his even after she had gone.