Authors: Andy Mandela
“Why not?” she asks, as if I surprised her.
I decide to be blatantly honest with her. “I don’t want you to,” I tell her, with a soft look in my eyes.
“Okay,” she responds.
I’m not sure if she is disappointed or if she respected me more. She comes closer to me and kisses me, then rests her
body slightly on my side, as if she is ready to return to sleep. Her leg interlocks with mine while we kiss some more. She then tries to pull the blanket back over us, this time signifying that we were done.
Karina softly looks at me and says, “Thank you.” We give each other one last kiss before I turn off the light. I ponder what she was thanking me for. It was either for making love to her or being a gentlemen, stopping her before she went a bit too far, well for me at least.
We fall asleep in our current position, my arm around her, her head resting just below my shoulder. Her arm rests on my torso, my hand holding hers, fingers interlocked.
Chapter 13
Ever since that night, Karina and I have grown a lot closer emotionally. I believe it’s safe to say she trusts me with her life. Another week has passed by, and both of us very much enjoy making love without going all the way. Always the next day, there is a glow surrounding Karina which produces a light that could rival the sun. Obviously, that is an exaggeration, but one could see how high a pedestal I have created for a woman who outshines any Greek beauty in all of history.
I am watching her right now from my bed as she is preparing breakfast for us both, and seeing her is kind of making me get carried away with the compliments. I can smell her signature French toast cooking in the kitchen. The past few months have been the best I can remember in such a long time.
I feel somewhat guilty, because I don’t feel entirely deserving of my new life. However, acceptance is key, and guilt is the lock. And for some reason or another, I can’t move past it. I only continue to burden myself. It feels like a noose that only fixes itself tighter each time it crosses my mind.
I haven’t even thought of how I’m going to explain to Karina how I have so much money. What excuse could I possibly conjure up to fool her, not that I would want to. I will admit I have been a bit frugal these past few months. I haven’t spent any money on anything costing over a hundred dollars, except my bills.
I was able to stop myself before trying to woo Karina with expensive gifts. I thought that would make her feel cheap, or insult her by making her feel like I’m trying to pay for the relationship as a man would pay for a hooker. To me, and also to her, that wouldn’t pan out very well. I show my feelings by spending time with her, just like a best friend. And I am very happy I have the privilege to date Karina.
I agree that silly experiment of mine I proposed months ago was pretty ludicrous, but I’d heard that it worked in the past, however it doesn’t work for everyone. Karina is the dating type of girl, the kind a man wishes to marry, not the kind who acts immature and reckless, like a teenager. I admit I’ve made mistakes, but why can’t I share them with her? If there is one person, as of right now in this world who I can share anything with, it is Karina.
Now I’m having trouble pretending that I’m still asleep. I shouldn’t insult Karina’s intelligence, so I will tell her… soon. Very soon. How soon? Not sure, maybe in a day or two, when I’ve gathered enough words to not make it sound like I’ve kept this from her on purpose, which I have. But I only did so to protect her. I don’t want to make her think I’m just another liar and piece of shit drug dealer.
From how I see it, the outcome will turn out one of only two ways. One, she’s accepting, she knows I wish to change, that I have changed,
and moving forward to a prosperous life. In addition, she might even thank me for my honesty, and we may grow even closer to one another. Now I’d like that. I’d love that. A situation like that would give me exactly the kind of closure I’ve been seeking. But there is also another possibility, one that I am particularly afraid of, the reason I’m procrastinating by not telling her. She could just as easily get angry, scream, and holler, something far worse than a simple silent treatment. She could accuse me of lying to her throughout our entire relationship, and could claim that she doesn’t even know who I am. Afterwards, she could storm out of the apartment and out of my life forever. Now that’s the scenario I’m desperately trying to avoid.
I guess it could turn out worse. She could just as easily scream profanities, beat me, slash my tires, or hit me over the head with a frying pan. None of those actions I would blame her for doing, as I deserve each and every one of them tenfold.
Now I begin wondering what day and where and what time of day to tell her. If in the morning, it could be better so that we don’t, or at least I don’t have to go the entire day keeping up the charade. If at night, then we spend at least one last full day together, as I would cherish every second of it, just in case things don’t pan out well.
Would it be a better idea to tell her at her place? That way, I can spare her the embarrassment of walking out of my apartment feeling like shit, and so foolish for ever being with someone like me. I would rather be kicked out of her apartment and sent home, ashamed and humiliated. Oh, the things I would do for her, and yet, here I am thinking about it as if I already know what’s going to happen. I suppose I just have a habit of preparing for the worst.
But what if, just what if, she is understanding. The thought alone takes a light, very light, load off my shoulders, only to be brought back down again when I’m reminded of the other, not so favorable scenario. My breathing is getting a little heavier as I lay here in bed, pondering.
I can hear the television on, as well as Karina, who I believe is just about done cooking breakfast. I don’t want her to catch me awake
, because then she might ask me how long I’ve been awake, and what I’ve been thinking about. A few minutes later, I can hear her set two trays of food on the coffee table, but I continue to keep my eyes closed. Then I hear the footsteps heading from the kitchen to my bedroom, getting slightly louder as she grows closer. Then the footsteps stop. Now I feel the bed sink just a tad as Karina sits right next to me, surely thinking of a gentle way to wake me up. I don’t know, but after a few seconds, I’m starting to get the feeling like she might just be staring at me. But then I feel the warm touch of her fingers as she strokes my cheek.
“Luke,” I hear in her soft, tender voice. I wait. Then she says my name again, “Luke.” I open my eyes to see Karina staring at me with her lovely green eyes.
“Hi,” I say, attempting a newly awaken morning voice.
“Hey wake up. I’ve made breakfast for us,” she says with a wide smile. That smile of hers ironically makes me feel undeserving of any sort of gratitude I receive from her.
“Oh really,” is all I can manage to sputter. Karina helps me out of bed as I catch eye of the clock. Nine-thirty-one.
We go into the living room where I see two dishes of French toast and scrambled eggs and two glasses of orange juice. One for me and one for her.
“Surprise!” she exclaims hoping to put me in a cheerful mood. I wonder what the occasion is. Since I can’t think of a particular reason, I make the assumption she’s doing it out of the goodness of her heart. Or she just had an appetite for French toast.
“So do you have any plans for today?” I ask. Today is Monday. Not much to do on a Monday.
“Yup, actually I do. I’m thinking of going out and looking for a job,” she says, taking a bite out of her eggs.
“Oh, really?” I say, “You have any ideas where you want to work?”
“Not really. The only surefire job out there, for a woman at least, is waitressing. I’ve done that before and I just hated it. People don’t care if you’re a good waitress or not, they just care about how hot you are,” she says.
“Well if that’s the case, why’d you hate it? I’m sure you made a fortune,” I kid.
“Sure I made alright money, but I just hate having to be in a constant cheerful mood, not that it’s hard, it just gets tedious after a while.”
“So what else do you want to do?” I ask, taking a bite of French toast and sipping my orange juice.
“Like I said, I’m not sure. Maybe a job in retail. Or one of those stores in the mall, like a bookstore.”
“Whatever it is, I’m sure you’ll get the job,” I tell her, giving her a kiss on the cheek while she chews her food. I got up for a moment to put on some clothes, throwing on a t-shirt and blue jeans, making me look like I’m about to do yard work. Karina’s wearing a green tank top with spaghetti straps
and black and red plaid pajama pants, the same clothes she wore to bed. Karina tells me she’s about to leave in a little bit to go job hunting and do some other stuff.
Not long after we finish eating breakfast does she get ready to go out. She keeps a few clothes at my place whenever she feels like changing. I don’t mind, since having her clothes here makes me feel like I’m not alone. They serve as a reminder whenever she isn’t here, telling me that she’ll be back. I’m still on the couch finishing my orange juice when she comes back into the room, fully changed. For a woman, she gets herself read
y pretty fast. She now wears a dark navy blouse with red pants, making her look so tempting and professional. She’s also wearing a black hair tie around her right wrist, which she normally wears, in case she feels like tying her hair back. I love when she wears her hair up, making her neck appear so sexy.
“I’m sorry for leaving so abruptly, but I want to get an early start,” she says, gathering her things together.
“I understand,” I tell her, finishing my glass of orange juice. She leans over the side of the couch and gives me a kiss.
“See you later,” she says, exiting the door. I manage to say, “Goodbye,” before the door closes completely.
Now I’m alone, which leaves me just a bit confused, since I feel relieved when I shouldn’t be. I have some time now to myself, but the minutes are dragging on like time is slowing down. So I wait.
Karina returns in the early afternoon. She says she went to t
en different places, putting in applications. Personally, I can barely remember the time when I filled out an application myself. She told me she was exhausted from being out, and that she needed a nap.
Now, here we are lying in bed again
, as I watch time go by even slower. Karina is asleep. Apparently she was so tired, she didn’t even bother getting out of her clothes first, except for her shoes. I wasn’t as tired, but I agreed to lie down next to her, and I’ve been awake this whole time. I told her when she woke up, I would go get us some lunch from anywhere she wanted. It’s been about forty-five minutes now, and one of Karina’s naps can go on for as long as two hours. I at least close my eyes, hoping I too might get some rest.
But not long after, my eyes spring back open, because someone is knocking at my door. I race to think of who it might be. I am not expecting anyone, unless it’s someone who hasn’t got the message about me and my now past business. I look down at Karina to see she is still fast asleep. Before whoever is on the other side of that door has a chance to knock again, I get out of bed and try to run as quickly and quietly to the door, so Karina won’t be woken up. As soon as m
y hand finds the doorknob, the door is open. Of all the people who didn’t get my message, I can’t believe the person standing outside my door is was none other than Brandon Harris.
“Hey Luke,” he says, with that suave look.
“Hey,” I tell him. I have to get him out of here before Karina wakes up and sees him.
“Look, I just need a few grams of—,” she says, attempting to invite himself in before my hand stops him, pushing him back outside the door. “What’s the matter?” she sputters, as if he’s insulted.
“Listen, you can’t come here anymore. I’m not dealing anymore, okay?” I tell him, trying to speak quietly.
“Why not? What happened?” Brandon questions.
“I just don’t anymore. I just don’t. I quit,” I explain, hoping he’ll just leave.
“Well I gotta tell you, you were the best, man. I guess if you ain’t got nothing, I might as well be on my way then. You know any other dealers?” he asks.
“No,” I tell him.
Just leave.
“Alright, see ya around,” he says, walking backwards.
“Yeah,” I offer, closing the door. I stare at the closed door for a few second while I take a few deep breaths. When I turn around my heart almost stops.
Karina is standing beside the arch, arms crossed, giving the most disappointed and upset look I’ve ever seen.
I don’t know what to say.
“Who was that?” she demands, as if there is no right answer.
“Nobody,” I respond.
She loosens her arms and says, “Please, Luke, I’m not a fucking idiot. I heard you. What was all that talk about dealing? Huh?”
I know I’m going to have to come clean. Right here, right now. I try to find the best way to handle it. “Okay. Can we sit down first? I’ll explain everything.”
“No,” she returns. “Tell me right here.”
I gather all I need to say, in the short time Karina is allowing me, and attempt to explain. “I used to be a drug dealer. I dealt cocaine and heroin. That’s how I’ve been able to live like this. But I’ve quit. I don’t deal anymore, and I never will
again.” I think I feel a tear coming on, as I wonder how much of this Karina is believing. The upset look in her face doesn’t seem to fade.
“Oh yeah? How long have to quit? And how long have you been doing it?” Her words come out fuming, while I try to remain speaking as calmly as possible.
“I started just out of high school,” I answer, I see her eyes roll, like she can’t believe it, like she doesn’t even know who I am anymore. I see can see the red in her eyes as she tries to keep herself from crying. “But I quit. I quit the day we began dating. That day. That day I threw everything away, every last bit of it. And I haven’t done anything since then. I did it for us, Karina.” I hope I’ve won her back, but I can see the tears rolling down her cheeks. I walk toward her, hoping she’ll forgive me, but I’m wrong. She slaps me across the face before letting out a few more tears. This is the first time I’ve seen her cry, and I don’t like that I’ve made her do it. But I deserved to be hit.