Sensation

Dr. Adrela says it happens to everyone.

“We’ve forgotten how to feel with our bodies. We get stuck in our heads, and we try to rationalize all of our feelings. Our brain is a wonderful resource, but we are overusing ours, especially when it comes to this. It can lead to problems…”

Dr. Adrela says we’ve become over-domesticated, that we’ve lost our connection to our animalistic nature. “Do you think animals in the wild are depressed? Of course not! There’s no time for depression when you are hunting for food, fighting for your life, fucking, or sleeping! Do you even know what your five senses are anymore?”

Dr. Adrela says some people just need a little reminder, a chance to turn the brain off and listen to our body. “Fear is the most primal instinct our body can experience. It can be our greatest ally, if we let it.”

As I’m lying alone in my bed, all I can think about is what Dr. Adrela told us about fear, because I am almost positive that someone is breaking into my house.

*

Sensation #1: Hearing.

I hear the crack of the sliding glass door in the kitchen first, then, its screeching as it glides across its tracks.

My heart is like a djembe, rhythmically thumping against my chest. My palms are sweaty beneath my blankets. I squeeze them into fists. I should have installed that stupid Ring alarm system, like my dumb neighbor, Jerry.

There is a long, continuous swoosh, then a click. The sliding door shuts, and the floor boards creak. The intruder is inside.

*

Sensation #2: Vision.

It is so dark in my room that I cannot see a thing. My first instinct is to fix that. I reach for my phone, but the flashlight is instantly too bright.

The moon is glowing across my carpet. It is bright enough that I can see a baseball bat across the room through the slit of my closet’s doors. When I release my legs onto the floor, I see my bare feet. At least I wore underwear tonight.

The hallway is dark, but the end of the hall is illuminated. I know full-glass walls freak some people out, but I’m certainly thankful for them now. I am trying to minimize the creaks of the floorboards with soft, slow steps, but I am like a moth drawn to a lantern: I want the light. I want to see. The closer I get to the end of the hall, the faster my heart beats. I can see it lifting my chest. I squeeze the bat in my hands. I am almost to the kitchen. I see the shadows of the dining room furniture cast across the tile. I see my reflection in the glass doors, my sweat glistening like stars. I see my veins elevated, running up my arm like rivulets of rain trickling down a window.

I see someone behind me.

“Gotcha!”

I see nothing but darkness.

*

Sensation #3: Smell.

Dr. Adrela says when you lose one of your senses, your others become heightened. I understand what she means now.

I am in a field of flowers. There are blossoms and peonies. Maybe roses, maybe lavender. My nose is tickled with a sweet and sultry scent. Is that vanilla? No, cinnamon. If an aroma could be felt, this one would be warm.

My heart is pounding. I keep inhaling.

*

Sensation #4: Touch.

Whatever is around my eyes is soft and stretchy, like the thin cotton fabric of a Hanes shirt. I am sitting down, strapped to a chair. What I assume is the leather belt I left looped through my pants is holding my chest upright, and two of my hardly-worn ties hold my wrists in place at the armrests. There’s a sudden chill brushing against my bare skin, tickling my body hair.

Long fingernails scrape against my scalp, sending goosebumps shivering down my spine. Soft, uncalloused palms streak down my cheeks, and then a sharp sting flashes across my face.

“Ow! What the – ”

“Shut up!” The words are a silk whip cracking, buttery and demanding. A claw clasps around my neck.

A second hand grips my chest. I feel those same long nails carving into my skin, threatening to penetrate the surface. Then, a swift scratch sends heat down the center of my torso.

Reflexively, my shoulders fold in and my arm jolts towards my chest, but it is met with the resistance of the tie. “Shit, ow!”

“Is this too much?”

“No, I just wasn’t expecting that. I’m fine. Are you?”

“Perfect.” Teeth clamp down on my lower lip and pull, forcing my neck to stretch forward. I feel the tension of blood pooling beneath the pressure. A tongue smooths it over before releasing me. “You weren’t really going to hit me with the bat, were you?”

“No! Sorry, that was stupid… We really should install that Ring system, though.”

Another sting across my face, sending electric volts down my body. “Shh! No breaking character!”

I’m tingling.

*

Sensation #5: Taste.

When your body is in a state of fear, there is no physical need to eat. And if you try, they – I mean, Dr. Adrela – says everything tastes metallic and bitter.

“You taste salty.”

“Sorry, I’m all sweaty.” I say, my breath heavy.

A laugh. “I really scared you, didn’t I?”

“You’re a really convincing intruder.”

“You’re a really convincing hostage.”

“Hey, honey?”

“Yeah?”

“Can you untie me now?”

*

Dr. Adrela says every couple goes through a lull. “We get comfortable with each other. Things get boring. We get depressed. We forget what it was like in the beginning when our bodies did all the talking.”

“Hey, honey?” We’ve turned on the lamp on the side table of our bed. It doesn’t illuminate the entire room, but I see what’s important. I step closer to my wife. She’s only wearing her underwear, now. I take her hands.

She averts my stare, looking down at our hands. The light reveals more than just her skin, but her insecurity. “Yeah?”

I stroke her hair, and it slides like ribbon behind her ear. I glide my finger down her cheek, tilting her chin towards my face. “You are so beautiful.”

It is subtle, but I feel her tremble. She traces the scratch on my chest, biting her lip. She doesn’t believe me.

“I don’t think we need to do all this…” I say. She’s looking up again, but not at my eyes. “Unless you want to?”

She giggles, a symphony all of its own; the soundtrack of our first five years together. “No. It was fun at first… but, then, I felt too much like a different person… Sorry, I got carried away.” She brushes her thumb across my lower lip.

“It’s OK. I didn’t mind that part…”

On tippy toes, my wife kisses me gently. Her lips are plump and buttery. I kiss her deeper.

“I missed you.”

“Me too,” I say.

*

Beneath the sanctuary of our sheets, I can’t remember a thing Dr. Adrela said.

I hear the pop of our lips, our breaths catching between each kiss. I hear the moans we abandon, both whispered and wailed.

I see my wife’s golden curls filleted beautifully across the pillow like she’s floating under water. I see her green eyes sparkling, like a gold coin twirling in the air.

I smell her garden, lush and floral: my personal bouquet.

I feel her smooth skin, supple and warm beneath my grip.

I have no appetite.

I have no fear.

I devour anyway.