Collected Proverbs, by Beatrice of Fourth Duncan’s veins flowed with Rachel’s blood; he was still connected to her, and he’d taken care of her needs. For this brief moment, the world spun though the universe on exactly the right course. He even breathed more easily. The terrible serpent, living in his gut, swam steadily but remained below the surface of the waters. He couldn’t promise Rachel anything and she knew it. She didn’t pressure him, either. But the lack of pressure carried its own force, pushing him to do better, though causing him to feel guilty when he didn’t live up to expectations. In a small way, his relationship with Rachel had changed. She no longer fought against him when he retreated. And he’d made an effort to help her understand what it was like for him, the devouring nature of the feelings that lived inside him, preventing him from moving forward. Yet somehow, this morning he’d overcome the pain enough to do what needed to be done. When he felt Rachel drifting off to sleep, he gently pulled out, tucked some tissues between her legs and covered her up.
