Authors: Elizabeth Hayley
“I’ve known her for years. There’s never been anything romantic between us. I just . . . when Kate told me you’d be here, I had to come.”
His eyes drifted to my lips seductively. "But I needed some moral support. That’s all she is. Now do you really want to waste time talking about her when we could be talking about us?” He pulled his head back so that he could look into my eyes, our noses just inches apart. The position we
found ourselves in was intimate, and it scared the hell out of me.
“
There’s no
us
to talk about.”
“Oh, no?
Because I can’t keep my eyes off of you. No matter how much I try, my attention drifts to you. And whenever I look at you, you know what I see?”
I shook my head.
“I see you looking back. Admit it. You have no interest in that jackass you're with. The only thing in that bar that holds any interest for you is me.”
Shuddering at his words, I felt the familiar throb at the apex of my thighs as I willed my body to refrain from
arching toward him. He would provide the physical contact I craved. I couldn’t help but imagine closing the distance between us and pushing my mouth to his. I wanted to feel the soft caress of his tongue, the light nip of his teeth, the friction of his lips. Then, as if Shane could read my thoughts, sense my body begging for his, he enveloped my mouth in a passionate kiss that I felt all the way down to my knees. In one deliberate movement, he seemed to consume all of me. With Shane’s hard body pressing mine against the wall and his solid hand cradling the back of my neck, I couldn’t escape even if I’d wanted to. And I sure as hell didn’t want to. At least my
body
didn’t. It responded to him instantly, involuntarily despite my best efforts. My lips remained parted, inviting his tongue to intrude, and causing a familiar feeling to flutter deep inside my core at his touch. Lower, my wetness began to increase as my hard nipples rasped against his solid pecs.
My body willed my mind to succumb to my desire for Shane.
And as he deepened the kiss, crushing his mouth to mine, my body won out. My hands fisted in his hair as I pulled him closer, our lips fervent against one another. Despite my best efforts, a moan escaped me, a sound of complete and utter need. Not need just for the physicality of our relationship, but for all of it. For the electricity that hummed between us. For the way our bodies fit together like we were two pieces of the same puzzle. For the way I knew he cared about me. For the way he wanted me. Wanted me . . . Shane . . . wanted me.
It was this thought that caused my arms to drop from his hair and go rigid at my sides.
Shane wanted me in ways that I could never reciprocate. Our bodies may fit together, but our lives didn’t. A relationship between us would never last, and we’d both be left broken at the end of it. And as I slowed our kiss, I knew that whatever this was, it wouldn’t last.
I knew that as soon as the kiss was over, I’d run again. And as he reluctantly pulled away, I think Shane knew it too.
“Look me in the eyes, Amanda.” His voice was commanding as he pleaded with me. “Look me in the eyes and tell me you didn’t feel that. Tell me you didn’t feel what I felt when I kissed you.”
As if by some miracle, I willed my eyes to lock on his before speaking. “I’ve always had an interest in you, Shane. But it’s purely physical.
Nothing more.” The words poured from my mouth in a weak effort to convince both Shane and myself that they were true. They weren’t.
And Shane called my bluff.
“Stop this. Please, Amanda, just stop this bullshit.” He drew his body closer again, his chest grazing mine. “When I’m near you, I . . . I don’t even know how to explain it. It’s like, I’m drawn to you. No matter how much I tell myself to stay away, I can’t. I know you feel it, too.” Shane dropped his other hand from the wall and used it to cup my cheek as his voice softened. “Whatever concerns you have, baby, we can work on them. But don’t run away from this. It’s worth fighting for. This is me fighting for you. Please . . . just fight back.”
Lily said that some people deserved a second chance. Here was mine. All I had to do was say I’d fight. To tell him that I felt the connection that bound us.
Because those things were the truth. But, even though he was giving me
a second chance, that didn’t mean I deserved it. I knew I didn’t. It also didn't mean I wanted it. There were certain things I wouldn't leave to chance. My happiness was one of them.
“Are you really so desperate that you have to do all this to persuade a girl to be with you?” These were the second most awful words I had ever spoken to Shane.
And as he shrank back from me, I knew that the devil was building another circle of hell just for me. I took immediate advantage of Shane’s withdrawal and threw open the door. As I hustled down the hall and back into the bar, only one thing was clear to me: I definitely wouldn’t be getting a third chance.
***
I wasted no time returning to my table and to Rod. I picked up my shot and lifted it to the air at him before throwing it back. As the heat burned down my throat, I felt slightly better. I’d rather feel the burn of alcohol than the pain of what I’d just done. I chugged my martini before looking up at Rod, who was matching me drink for drink.
“You wanna dance?” I asked him.
“After my last experience dancing with you, how could I ever say no?”
I grabbed his hand and led him to the dance floor, but not before noticing that Shane had returned to his table.
I felt his stare as I led Rod amid the crowd of rowdy drunks and pressed myself against him. The closeness reminded me of what had just happened outside, but I immediately pushed the thought down, trying to turn my mind off and let my body take over. This became easier as the alcohol hit my system, causing a haze to settle over me.
After a few more drinks and a lot more dancing,
sensation flooded my body. My brain had effectively been shut down for the evening, and my body tried to soak up all the pleasure it could.
There was a point when Lily came over to me, but I barely remember our conversation.
Something about me not wanting to do this and being sorry. The specifics are lost, but I know I eventually told her to go home. Or maybe she told me to go home.
Whichever.
My encounter with Kyle was a tad clearer, mostly because
Rod had to pull me off him. I screamed at him that I hated him and never wanted to talk to him again. I think I may have also called him Benedict Arnold.
I don’t know when Shane left.
I was too wrapped up in my world of purposeful ignorance to keep track of him. But I did know that I needed to completely eradicate the
thought
of Shane as much as I had his physical presence. That was my plan when I leaned into Rod and whispered in his ear, “Let’s go back to your place.” I just wish I could remember if it worked.
***
I woke up the next morning with a blistering headache and felt a warm body against my back. But I knew it wasn’t the one body that I wanted there. My mind, even in its disabled state, remembered back to my night with Zach and how I had thought it was such a shame I didn’t blackout anymore. Well, I’d found the solution to that problem:
moonshine and tequila.
As I tried to sit up, I let out a loud groan and flopped back down.
I hadn’t felt this bad since, well . . . maybe ever. My head lolled to the left and looked at Rod.
Shit, did I sleep with him?
I took a quick inventory. I was in my underwear, not naked, so that was a plus. I also didn’t
feel
like I’d had sex. I doubt that I would’ve felt nothing the morning after sleeping with Rod. Swollen lips or some sore muscles should've been in order. I'd always experienced those things in my fantasies of him.
“Hi.”
The voice startled me. I wasn’t aware he’d woken up. “Hi.”
“Some night,” he said as he rubbed his face with his hand.
“Yeah. I just wish I could remember more of it.”
“No, it’s probably better that you don’t.”
“That bad, huh?” I asked with apprehension on my face.
“Oh, yeah.
You really let some of your friends have it. Major damage control is going to be in order for you today.”
I sighed.
I had done too much damage. There was no controlling it now. “Did we . . . ?”
Rod
smiled lazily, “I prefer my sexual partners conscious, so no.”
Hallelujah for decent men.
“You want breakfast or do you want me to just call a cab so we can go pick up our cars?”
I appreciated this question.
He didn’t say it in a way that hindered me from choosing staying for breakfast, but he also acknowledged last night for what it was. Or what it was intended to be at least. He was like the male version of me.
“I think I’d rather just go get our cars. But thanks for the offer.”
“Sure thing. Get dressed and I’ll call.”
Rod
quickly pulled on the jeans he’d worn last night, opened a drawer, pulled out a T-shirt and pulled it over his head. Once he left the room, I got out of the bed. It’s not that I was shy about Rod seeing me in my underwear, but something about it just didn’t feel quite right. I shimmied into my tight jeans and yanked my blue cashmere sweater over my head before following Rod into the living room.
The cab arrived about ten minutes later
, and I was thankful that we’d at least been smart enough not to drive the previous night. Once we settled into the cab, Rod looked over at me.
“So, who was that guy?”
“What guy?”
“The one you spent the night in a staring contest with.
You know, the blond Incredible Hulk.”
I nearly laughed at
Rod’s description. Even though Rod was taller than Shane, Shane was much more built. “Oh, him. He’s just some guy.” It hurt me to refer to Shane so casually, but I didn’t know what else to say.
“
Riiiight.”
I let out a deep breath.
“We were kind of involved. He wanted more and I didn’t.”
“You sure?”
I looked at Rod quizzically. “About what?”
“That you don’t want more.”
I turned my gaze out the window. “Yeah, I’m sure.”
We spent the rest of the ride in silence.
When we reached High Noon, I insisted on paying the cab fare, since Rod had paid for most of our drinks the previous evening. As the cab pulled away, Rod and I stood there awkwardly for a minute.
“Well,” I finally said, “I
guess, thanks?”
Rod
burst out laughing and I joined in, the weirdness disintegrating between us.
“My pleasure.”
We each began walking toward our cars, which were only about six spaces
from each other. As I was unlocking my door, I heard Rod. “I hope I have that someday.”
I turned to see h
is car door open and his arms were resting on the roof. “Have what?”
“Someone who looks at me the way he looks at you.”
He smiled shyly. “See ya around, Amanda.”
I returned his smile, “Bye,
Rod.”
And as he got in his car and pulled away, I watched him drive off, wishing to myself that he did have that some day.
And that when he found it, he knew well enough to appreciate it.
Fourteen
My hands stayed glued to the wheel as I sat in the parking lot.
I didn’t even want to start my car, mainly because I had no idea where I’d be driving. I was tired of running. But I couldn’t go home. Not yet, at least. Having my roommate berate me unmercifully was not the secret hangover cure I needed. I couldn’t bear to hear Lily preach to me about her own mistakes as if they applied to my situation. The issue with Shane was different.
I let my forehead drop to the center of the steering wheel. And as my head lightly pounded against the horn, causing brief honks to sound, I echoed the noise internally with screams of frustration. I just needed some time.
Time to get my head on straight and reassert the fact that I had done the right thing. And there was only one place where I could do that. As I settled back in my seat and turned my key in the ignition, I began the drive to Angela Bishop's house. Or also known as my mother’s.
I’m not sure why I had the urge to go there.
Maybe because I knew it was the only place where I wouldn’t be judged. I hadn’t actually stayed the night at my mother’s since college. We weren’t exactly what you’d call close, only talking on the phone a few times a month and seeing each other even more seldom. Our conversations were usually stilted, showing just how little we had in common. Besides, we both worked a lot. She owned a pet sitting business and was constantly staying at other people’s houses while they were on vacation. If luck was on my side, that would be the case today and I could spend the rest my Saturday there in solitude.
***
Twenty-five minutes later, I pulled up to the small brick Cape Cod, and I immediately spotted her white Toyota Yaris in the gravel driveway.
So much for luck
. As I breezed by the car, I paused momentarily to examine the sight. The back seat was folded down, and a maroon sleeping bag covered the entire back. A few jackets, a case of water, and a box of Famous Amos cookies decorated the inside. I briefly wondered whether I should knock on the front door of the house or the driver’s side of the Yaris because I wasn’t sure which one she actually lived in.
After I took inventory of her car, I made my way up the brick path and rang the doorbell.
When I didn’t hear it, I knocked. She was probably still asleep since it was only 11:00. Still early in Angela time. I was surprised when I heard a singsong-y “Come in” float through the house and out the open windows. I pushed down on the brass handle and threw my shoulder into the forest green door. I was more than surprised when it didn’t stick and I nearly tumbled onto the living room.
“You got your door fixed,” I yelled.
“And why are you just telling people to come in? I could’ve been a murderer or a rapist or something.”
“You think murderers and rapists knock first, honey?
That’s sweet. It’s good to see you.” She strolled out of the dining room and gave me a peck on the cheek. I appreciated that she didn’t ask me what I was doing there, even though I was clearly still in last night’s clothing and hadn’t showered.
“Besides, I figured the knock was Will.
He just left a few minutes ago. I thought maybe he’d come back for seconds.”
“Will?”
“I met him the other day at my Boomerang for Beginners class in the park. He’s British,” she said, clearly impressed with her conquest. “You know, a British accent makes a man much hotter. It takes a guy who’s a soft six up to a hard eight with just a few flicks of the tongue.” I hoped to God the tongue comment was in reference to Will’s speech and not to his oral sex skills. She raised her thin eyebrows in a way that made what she was about to say even more awkward. “And Will’s definitely a
hard
eight if you know what I mean.”
“Mom, please.
I really don’t need to hear this.” I shook my head and squeezed my eyes shut like I was trying to physically shake the image from my brain. It didn’t work.
“I’m glad you’re here,” she added.
“You can critique my new belly dancing routine later.” If there was one thing my mom was good for, it was a random change in subject. And I was definitely thankful for it.
A look around the house reminded me of why I didn’t come here more often.
Seating was limited to just a small plaid loveseat that was covered with half-folded clothing in the corner. “You’re building a boat?” I asked pointing to the partially built fishing boat in the middle of the living room, propped up on wooden chocks.
I actually don’t know why I said it as a question. I can’t say that I was surprised. “You don’t fish . . . wait, do you?” I realized I had no idea.
She moved a few boxes from in front of the couch and motioned for me to sit.
“No, but I’ve been watching those shows where all those crab fisherman make hundreds of thousands of dollars for one fishing season. I bet I could do that.” She pulled a blue sweatshirt with a picture of a husky on it over her head and adjusted her blonde ponytail. I noticed a few streaks of gray near her ears and some subtle wrinkles behind her glasses that hadn’t been there the last time I’d seen her. Guess it had been longer than I thought.
“You can’t catch crabs in this boat,” I replied in reference to
her latest business venture. “I don’t even know how you’re gonna get it out of the house when you’re done. It won’t fit through any of the doors or windows. By the way,” I added gesturing to the sweatshirt she’d just put on, “why
are
your windows open? It’s late October. It’s freakin’ freezing in here.”
“That’s what’s wrong with people today.
They don’t get enough fresh air.”
Yeah,
that’s
what’s wrong with people. Maybe the fresh air will solve my problems with Shane
.
“You need fresh air for the soul,” she continued.
“Nature rejuvenates you. Come eat, honey. I was making a smoothie when you came in.” She picked up a few bills that had been blown off the wooden dining room table by a gust of wind.
“I’m really not that hungry.
Pretty hungover actually.”
“Even better then.
This’ll clean you right out,” she said as she handed me a glass that looked like it contained a cross between a baby’s diaper and my vomit after a hot date with Midori Sour in high school.
“What’s in this?
Wait, I don’t think I wanna know.” I put it to my nose, and was surprised that it actually didn’t smell half bad.
“
It’s wheatgrass, plain Greek yogurt, and some other ingredients I’ll keep secret because they’ll just gross you out. Just drink it. It’ll make you feel better.”
The fact that she revealed wheatgrass and plain yogurt as the appetizing parts made me
fear what else the concoction contained, but I chugged it nonetheless.
Anything to make me feel better
. My eyes caught movement by the refrigerator. “Jesus Christ!” I yelled, jumping back into the butcher’s block kitchen island. “What the fuck is that? Why is there a chicken in your house?”
“That’s Rosie.
She’s a bantam hen. I got some chickens a few months ago so I could have fresh eggs. This was before I became a vegan, of course.” She picked up Rosie, and the small, colorful bird struggled to free herself of my mom’s grasp. “They create a lot of dust, though. That’s one of the reasons I have the windows open. They go outside to eat,” she said as she shooed the bird out the back door. “And inside to shit, I guess.” She laughed as she nodded toward the bird poop by my foot.
“When did you become a vegan?”
Should I be worried that was my only comment regarding the chickens?
“You just ate yogurt. That’s not vegan.”
“I’m working up to it slowly,” she shrugged.
“You should really try it. Have you ever watched that documentary about how animals are killed for food? It’s so sad. I can’t eat meat after seeing that.” She knelt down with a paper towel to clean up after Rosie. “I did have a craving for hotdogs the other day, though. I stopped at the store and ate two when I got home. They were so good.”
I had to stop myself from informing her that two hotdogs did not qualify as “working up to it slowly,” but I knew my efforts would be futile.
“I’d rather butcher a cow myself than give up steak,” I laughed.
“Mom, what’s in your hair?”
I reached down to touch the bumpy silicone tie in her hair.
“It’s a cock ring,” she said simply.
Oh. My. Fucking. God!
“I couldn’t find a hair tie this morning.
Mike left it here a few weeks ago,” she shrugged. “Problem solved.”
“
Ahhhhh!” I yelled to drown out the sound of her voice as I covered my ears.
“Oh, Amanda, calm down.
I’m nearly fifty, not nearly
dead
. And I’m not married. What do you want from me? I need to get laid just as much as you do.”
I wouldn’t count on it considering the sexual frustration I’ve been experiencing the past few weeks.
“And it
is
true,” she said with a grin, “what they say about black guys. You know, I’ve really been missing out all these years.”
“Mom, please just stop.”
My words flew out of my mouth at a rapid pace. “For the love of God!”
“Oh, alright, alright,” she whined with a tinge of disappointment in her voice.
Clearly, she would have liked to have elaborated on her night with Mike.
My body shook with disgust.
“I definitely need to take a shower . . . especially now. And I’m gonna take a nap. Do you still have some of my old clothes here?”
She put a finger to her lips, clearly trying to remember something.
“Um . . . I think I still have your high school gym uniform. The rest I gave away to purple heart.”
“Why would you keep just my gym uniform?”
“Honey, they’re veterans. They don’t wanna wear your disgusting old gym uniform. Go take a shower. You look like you could use it. I’ll come check on you in a little while.”
Some “not tested on animals” body wash, one
twelve-year-old gym uniform, and a half hour later, I was resting comfortably in my old room. I studied the posters that still hung on the wall: Boyz II Men and Leonardo DiCaprio posing like he was the king of the world (I still had fantasies of pressing my palm against the inside of a steamy car while he ravaged me).
Strangely enough, that wasn’t the only thing that hadn’t changed.
Sure, I had a high-paying job and an apartment. But the last time I had slept in here, I had envisioned that my future would involve marriage . . . maybe even a few kids. That had been at least six years ago and here I was, still waiting for my future to begin.
I was lost in self-pity when my mom entered.
“Knock, knock,” she said quietly. “Feeling better?” She plopped herself on the edge of the twin bed, rubbed her hands together, and hovered them inches above my face.
“Mom?” I blinked into her palms. “Should I even ask what you’re doing?”
“
Shh, it’s Reiki. It’s a Japanese stress reduction technique. I’ve been taking classes at the Center for Alternative Healing. There’s a life force energy that flows through all of us. If it’s low, we feel stressed. If it’s high, we’re happier. Yours is very low.” I shook my head, but part of me knew she was right. My plummeting “life force energy” had been obvious to people other than me lately. “Reiki treats the whole person: mind, body, emotions, spirit,” she added soothingly.
As strange as it sounded, I did feel a sense of calm, and eventually I must have drifted off to sleep.
***
I awoke to my own screams, and when I opened my eyes
, Rosie’s face was inches from mine, her dirty feet firmly planted on my chest. By reflex, I jumped up, effectively throwing Rosie’s feathery body to the floor. She squawked in response, and I felt a little remorseful for how I’d treated her. But I internally scolded myself for feeling that way.
She’s just a chicken.
It felt like I had only slept a few minutes, but the clock told me I had been asleep for over two hours.
“What’s wrong, honey?” My mom rushed in just like she had when I’d been five and used to have nightmares that the house had caught on fire.
I had moved to stare at my pale reflection in my bedroom mirror, my bright green eyes dulled by
the past few weeks’ events. Slowly, my mom appeared behind me and began to stroke my hair. “I have to stay at a dog’s house tonight, but you can stay here as long as you like.” She gave me a quick squeeze around my shoulders. “Oh, will you feed the chickens for me in an hour or so? I won’t be back for a few days. Their food’s in the garage.”
I looked past my own reflection into my mother’s green gaze, and I felt the little color I had left in my face leave completely. Looking at my mom made me realize that my future
had
started. It just wasn't the one I had pictured. I didn't want this: sleeping with random men and buying into every fad that came down the pike in the hope that it would give my life some meaning. I didn't want to be my mother.
“What’s the matter, Amanda?
You look like you’ve just seen a ghost.”
I spun around, searching frantically for my shoes.
“I think I have,” I said as I headed for the stairs.