The Other Fish in the Sea (50 page)

“I know you’re there.”
 

I’d mimicked the ghostly quiet of the house and aside from the storm raging outside, there was no sound that could’ve alerted him to my presence, so I honestly have no idea how he could know I’d been standing there. I spun around after having practically hit my head on the ceiling in my not-so-graceful, squeaking leap of shock and saw through the light being cast from the window onto his bed, that Tristan’s eyes were still closed and he looked completely asleep. I thought for a minute I’d imagined his voice but just then, Phineas jumped up to daintily lay on him and he began to pet her.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you up,” I said quietly and turned to leave again.

“You didn’t. I wasn’t asleep…Phineas doesn’t like the thunder,” he told me in a voice that had me wondering if he was trying to sooth our cat or me. Maybe both me and the cat…

“Oh, okay…well, I—I’ll just…” I’ll just what? Leave him alone and go wallow in self-pity? Yeah, that sounds like a good plan.

Again I went to leave but was stopped mid-turn by what sounded like a pleading meow from Phineas.

“She wants you.”
 

On a despondent sigh, I stepped into the room and went to pick Phineas up from the corner of Tristan’s bed where she’d moved to stare at me. Just as I put my hands on her though, she snaked away back over to Tristan to reclaim her spot on his chest.
 

“I kinda want you too,” he admitted and finally opened his eyes to look at me.

I didn’t know how to respond. Tears are a given, but do I shout for joy, do the Snoopy happy dance, or question the “kinda” he threw in as well as asking for specifics on what kind of “want” he’s talking about?

“You kinda have an odd way of showing it…”

Tristan’s lips quirked, telling me he got my meaning and then lifting the blankets as an invitation to join him, he said, “I could say the same thing about you.”

“I know,” I admitted as I crawled in and he settled me against him with his arm around my shoulders so that he could play with my hair with one hand and with the other, he pet Phineas who started purring the instant I laid down with them.

“Do you?”

“Well, you were…
are
so mad at me, I thought avoiding a scene would be easier, but that really only made it worse, didn’t it?”

“Mmm
maybe
. But if you would’ve pushed me last night, today wouldn’t have been like déjà vu. I don’t know what it
would’ve
been like but in any case…I wasn’t talking about today.”

Okay, so maybe I don’t exactly know that I have an odd way of showing him that I want him. I was referring to him being so pissed the last two days and blatantly ignoring me today, so I thought he was referring to how I avoided him in return, but apparently, I’m wrong again. I’m getting really tired of being wrong. It’s kind of pissing me off.

I sighed in frustration and asked, “What are you talking about then? Because the last time I checked, I’m pretty sure I don’t make a habit out of avoiding you.”

“No, you’re right, you don’t, but you…” he stopped and then sighed. “Never mind, it’s not important,” he said in a tone that sounded frustrated, yes, but ultimately belied just how important that unsaid comment really was. “Let’s just put this shit behind us, okay?”

“Y-you want to kiss and make-up?” I asked in surprise. I’m not about to complain about not talking this whole thing out though. If he’s wanting to forgive and forget, I’m totally on board, especially since I’m the one in need of the forgiving and I’m still not one hundred percent sure why he got so mad in the first place.

“Hell yes,” Tristan said, pulling me to him for what started out as a sweet and simple “I’m sorry we’ve been fighting” kiss, but what ended up sucking us both into that “post-fight maelstrom of passion” kind of thing, only Tristan is a strong swimmer and he didn’t get as swept away in the current as I did.

It was yet again like déjà vu except this time, I was reliving two nights ago instead of the week before Halloween. Tristan had effectively divested me of all my clothing and he was at about the same point he’d been the other night before he left me naked and crying, when he suddenly stopped again and swore. I was pretty well caught up in the pandemonium he’d very successfully created in my body, but I know he swore because he repeated himself a couple of times, sat up, and then swore again.

“Fuck!”

“Wh—what’s wrong?!”
 

“I can’t do this, Camie…I thought I could and I wanted to but, I can’t let it go,” he answered in massive irritation and started to pace the floor.

“Can’t do w-what? C-can’t let what go?” I stammered through the tears that are yet again brimming in my eyes. Jesus, my checks are gonna have permanent pruney wrinkles from all the crying I’ve been doing lately.

I guess last night was just a tremor, a precursor if you will, to the real eruption because with my question, Tristan finally blew up and said some things I gather he’d been keeping to himself for quite some time.
 

“I can’t touch you or kiss you or do
any
of this shit! Jesus Christ, I can’t even fucking sleep at night! Not that that’s really new…trying to sleep with the goddamned sun blinding my eyes and donkeys braying in my ears would be easier than trying to sleep without you. Fuck, Camie, do you not get that all your “proposition” just says is that you have zero respect for yourself
and
me?! I mean goddamn it! How the fuck am I supposed to feel when I’ve bent over backwards making sure I’m not pressuring you about sex even a little bit and being unnaturally patient in waiting for you to be ready, which is no fucking picnic by the way, believe me, especially with Jeff riding my ass almost daily…I swear to God maintaining a modicum of decorum in dealing with his shit, not to mention what you do to me just by being
alive,
is like trying to breathe with a fucking plastic bag over my head!

“But then out of the blue, you come up with this, this…this fucking
perversion
of a bargain! Seriously! All I can think about is why the
fuck
have I been putting myself through all this bullshit when you’re so willing to barter your body in an effort to change me?! When I said you have an odd way of showing me that you want me,
that’s
what I meant! Everything’s all well and good as long as I’m behaving myself and doing what you want, but God forbid I don’t go along with something you want me to do, because just like that, you set about trying to make me into something I’m not!

“And while I’m on the subject of you doing a really poor job of showing me that you want me, it’s just a minor thing really, like fuckin’ leprosy is…you won’t even fucking touch me…not even a little bit! Honestly, how fucked up is it that I’m
completely
and
totally
in love with a chick who either doesn’t fuckin’ trust me or is
so
terrified of being with me that she has to secretly drink in order to even
talk
to me about sex? And what’s the fucking ironic cherry on top? You have
no
problem with me doing all the physical reassurance here…I’ve been the one doing all the compromising while you’ve been content to do all the taking in this relationship, which from my point of view is looking more and more like a goddamned farce! I get that you don’t have experience, Camie, but guess what? This is all new to me too! For Christ’s sake, just because I’m more sexually educated than you
doesn’t
mean I don’t need you to emotionally
and
physically reassure me! You never initiate anything…you’re awesome at responding but, I’m always the one who starts
everything
.

“Well, that is up until the other night…do you really think so little of me that you believe if you put-out for me that I’ll do something I absolutely detest doing?! I’m not for sale, Camie! And you shouldn’t be either, goddamn it! I mean, I can’t even get past why you would even
consider
trying to talk me into doing something that would make me unhappy in the first place! That’s just intrinsically selfish, it hurts, and it’s
more
than fucked up! I wouldn’t ask
you
to do something that I
know
would make you miserable enough to make you wanna blow your fucking brains out, so how…how could the thought even enter your mind? Seriously, Camie, how could you do that to me?!”

I was sitting there just letting him rail and vent on me with silent tears making their way down the now well-worn tracks in my face, desperately trying to follow his rant and understand what he was saying, so when he finally stopped on a question, it took me a moment to realize he was now expecting me to participate in this, or, at the very least respond.

Umm, seriously…
WOW
. Now it’s
my
turn to process information…
 

Crap…I still haven’t said anything! I honestly just don’t have any idea what to say, but I need to say
something
so he doesn’t think I’m a total re
tard
.

“Uhh, I need a minute…that was, umm…well, it was a lot and I’m gonna respond but…wow,” I said, trying to buy some time while I processed as much as I could of his verbal vomit so I could come up with something to say in response that wouldn’t induce another episode like ipecac. “Honestly, I’m not sure what to address first…that was quite the spoken effusion. Um, do you feel a little better having gotten all that poison out though?”
 

Tristan looked a little taken aback when I asked and furrowed his brow in confusion, like he didn’t realize until now that he’d just spewed probably two months worth of frustration out in one breath. “Huh. I kinda do. But still, what the fuck, Camie?”

“I don’t know what to say, Tristan…I mean other than I’m sorry for…well, for all of it I guess. I just thought we could both have something we want and it’d be a happy compromise or something. I never meant to try to change you because really, I don’t want you to be anything other than who and what you are, and I guess I just didn’t understand that was what I was doing,” I told him and wrapped my arms around my legs, trying to alleviate the cramping pressure that’d been building up in my abdomen that I’m just now paying attention to. Well, it’s sort of demanding my attention, but whatever.

“Camie, do you get that what you suggested the other night was…morally
icky
?”

“Did you just say icky?” I asked with a smallish giggle. Really, even with all that’s going on at the moment and what feels like is my intestines turning into a sailor’s knot any Boy Scout would be proud of, I’m still finding Tristan saying “icky” to be pretty funny.

“Icky? Yes, yes I did…I felt like I was a john and I was goin’ down on the only hooker in the world who wanted to be paid with a bow-tie and cummerbund,” he said with comedic disgust and gave a shudder. “
Ugh
, the whole thing just skeeves me out, so yeah, icky is totally warranted. You still haven’t answered me though…”

“Oh yeah, sorry… I do see that now, but if I’m being totally honest, I didn’t think of it like that at all when I came up with the idea or when I said it. Actually, I didn’t get it at all until you told me last night that I was whoring myself out and well, my throat is still burning a little so I’ve been kinda preoccupied with that part of my unethical immorality.”

“Yeah, well, be glad you got gin, ‘cause it could’ve been worse. I was hoping to pour you some Everclear so you can thank your dad for not stocking explosives with the rest of his booze. And what the fuck was with
that
?” Tristan asked, throwing his hands in the air in a sincere expression of WTF?

“I don’t
know
! I don’t know what the hell I was thinking…you’re right, Tristan! I
am
scared but not of being with you! I just get, I dunno…nervous! Can’t you understand that? I truly love being with you, but I don’t know what the hell I’m doing so I just follow your lead, and I’m sorry I never stopped to think that you might not know what you’re doing either, but come on, there’s a mighty vast gap in our levels of experience in sex
and
life, so, can you really blame me for being so intimidated that even thinking of talking to you about some stuff makes me feel like an imbecile?”
 

He just sort of stared at me for a second and then closed his eyes on a sigh and shook his head. “Camie…shit. I don’t even know what to say about that. I feel like I’ve done everything in my power to not intimidate you and let you know you can trust me, but, if you don’t even feel comfortable
talking
to me, I’m at a loss.”

“Well, see, that’s the weird thing…yes, I’m totally intimidated by you, but it’s not actually talking about sex or doing anything that really scares me…it’s looking or sounding ignorant. And it’s not just with you, I’m like this in any situation where I feel uncomfortable or out of water so to speak. I think that’s partly why I don’t take tests well, you know? I get nervous and start to doubt myself, and then I simply shut down, which I guess in your case comes off as me being petrified of you when I’m really not. For the most part, I’m fine when stuff like this gets brought up and I can carry on a conversation like right now, but it literally freaks me out to bring this topic up on my own simply because I don’t know shit about it!” I told him and followed up my admittedly irrational fear with a swallowed groan of pain, my stomach coiling and tightening one more notch.

“How long were you planning on not telling me that your stomach hurts?” Tristan asked with a some irritation tempered with concern.

“Oh, it’s not a big deal…I think it’s just stress. I felt like this the other night when you were mad at me and I was all stressed out, but it went away after like a half-hour or so, so I’m sure it’ll stop in a little while,” I answered but then after thinking about it, that doesn’t really make a whole lot of sense. I mean, I literally threw up last night but my stomach never actually hurt like it does right now or two nights ago, and it didn’t hurt at all today either so maybe it’s from something I ate. Or maybe I didn’t eat enough tonight. Although I did have a decent helping of the rigatoni Jillian made. Huh. Whatever.