I can’t sleep under my own roof. I’m furious and confused and disgusted. Most of all there is an ache that returns the minute I wake, and it won’t go away until I sleep.
On the second sleepless night I go to Melanie’s house. When I come home in the morning, Shane is eating cereal at the table. She looks at me with dark-circled, haunted eyes and a pout on her lips. She thinks I was hooking up, clearly.
“Hey,” she says.
“S’up?” I ask.
“Nothing.”
And that’s it. I grab some milk and go upstairs to get ready for work.
I know this is ridiculous. Two days after that I come downstairs and in the fridge I see a pastry box from the Planet.
“The *****?” I say, taking the box out as if inspecting it more closely will give me some answers.
There’s a note on the cardboard box. D- brought you some tarts. Have a good day. S.
I feel something softening inside me, relieved in a worried deep part of my stomach, and I slide a tart out of the box to eat. I know a peace offering when I see one, but we can’t keep going on like this. Kit’s overpriced pastries are wonderful but no substitute for actual communication.
On a whim, I call her cell phone. “Hey,” she says. She sounds pleased to hear from me.
“Hi. Thanks for the goodies.”
“No problem. I couldn’t sleep. Kit was up early; she hooked me up.”
She couldn’t sleep either? Is she trying to tell me something?
“That was really sweet of you. Um, do you have plans tonight?”
“Not really. Why?”
“I just thought we could hang.” I don’t wanna say the word “talk,” because I don’t need to scare her off. And the word scares me too.
“It’s a date. I gotta go, I have a customer.”
“You’re back at work?” How did I miss that?
“Yeah. Just did my first customer. Excepting Marlie, that is.”
“That’s great! Well, I’ll let you go.”
“Kay. I’ll see you tonight.”
I hang up the phone, smiling.
Later that day the doorbell rings. I tighten my robe and go to answer it. I’m shocked when I see the short dark girl through the window, Shane’s piece of *****.
“Hi,” I say, my hand hovering on the latch of the screen door.
“Hi! Um, is Shane here?”
“No, I think she had a job somewhere.”
“Oh.” The girl bites her lip, giving her a troubled and determined look. “Um… this is awkward, but can I talk to you for a second?”
I don’t know why I say yes. Maybe it’s because of her brutal honesty, or the mildly geeky and self-deprecating way she handles herself.
“Come in,” I say, tightening my robe around myself for no reason.
She follows me back to the kitchen. Every hair on my body is on end and I’m darting my eyes back and forth, as if that will give me some answers as to what the ***** is going on.
“Your name’s Darah, right?”
“Right. And you’re Carmen.”
I roll my eyes at my stupidity. I don’t know why I said that. Stupid.
“Thanks for letting me in to your house, talking to me, um…”
“You want some coffee, Carmen?”
“Um, no thank you, but water… if you have it. I mean, if it’s no trouble.”
The girl is adorable and it makes me want to puke. Her hair is down in a long tumbling mess of waves, and her olive skin blushes.
I hand her a heavy glass tumbler of ice and filtered water, then sit down at the table. “Have a seat,” I say, intrigued and nauseated at the same time.
She sits, and sips her water, then smiles. Puts her hands flat on the table. She’s nervous. Big inhale, then exhalataion.
“I know this is awkward. But I’m not here to do any harm to you or… ***** things up in any way.”
Huh?
She reaches to cup her glass, then puts her hand down on her lap. “Okay,” I say softly, almost feeling bad for her.
“I’m not trying to play any games, because I don’t do that. I… I just want you to know that.”
I raise my eyebrow, baffled as to where she’s going with this.
“Ok, um, I’m babbling, I’m just gonna come out and say this. I like Shane. I like her a lot.” She looks directly into my eyes and though she’s not threatening at all, it feels like a sock to my gut.
“Yeah,” I say. “You and all of West Hollywood.” *****, that sounds cheap. Catty. Like I’m trying to cheapen Shane in her eyes. Or run her off my turf. And maybe I am. Or maybe it’s just empathy.
Welcome to my world, girlfriend. It sucks.
“Yeah,” she says, “I’ve heard that. Which is why I was so surprised to see you here.”
“What?”
She pulls her hair back from her face but it slides right back through her fingers. She’s hot. Smoking hot. Hate her.
“Look, this is probably, no definitely none of my business, but I’m wondering what your relationship to Shane is.”
The *****?
“What, you’re asking for my blessing or something?”
“No. No. I just… I get this vibe. She introduced you as her friend but to me it seems like there’s something more so I just want to know before I pursue her.”
Well I’ll be fucked.
“Oh. Um, it seemed like there was something more on my part, or Shane’s?”
The anticipation of an answer to that question shouldn’t have my heart pounding, but it does.
“Both,” she says. I don’t know why relief courses through me. Yes I do. “I get this vibe that there’s something there between you and I just want to know before I make an ***** out of myself.”
What an odd creature. I respect her. And she’s hot. And if I respect her, then Shane probably respects her…
So, so dangerous.
She bites her lip, and when she catches me staring at her, she smiles. Nervous. Don’t want to like her. She could tear my world apart.
“Well, Carmen, you have quite a set on you.”
That same nervous smile again.
“That’s a compliment, believe it or not.” Shane’s gonna leave me, and fall in love with her. I can just see it.
She leans forward and presses her hands into her legs.
It’s my turn to sigh deeply. “I know this probably isn’t gonna satisfy you, and I’m not trying to be cryptic, but I have no idea what’s between Shane and I. I can only speak for myself, you’d have to ask her how she feels.”
No! I will not ***** cry in front of this woman.
“You love her.”
Anger flashes through me. How the ***** dare she? Come into my house and strip me down to the core?
But it passes as quickly as it came.
I open my mouth, but there is nothing I can say in response to that.
“Why does it matter to you how I feel for her?” She doesn’t know me. What does she care?
“It matters more to me what’s between the two of you. And what she’s feeling. I’m not out to hurt you, you seem really cool and you don’t play games and I respect that.”
“But, if she’s available, you’re gonna go for it.”
“Um… probably, yeah. I really like her.”
Welcome to my world, I think.
“I don’t know what to tell you, Carmen. I wanna lie and say that we’re in love and you’re intruding, but it just isn’t true. Yes, we sleep together. We’re best friends. Yes, she loves me, but I don’t know how. She’s only living with me because she’s on disability. And that’s all I can tell you. You have to ask her.”
I raise my eyes to meet hers and I feel so naked. And of all times, this is when I hear the key in the lock.
“Oh, *****,” I murmur to myself.
“*****,” she says. “Talk about awkward.”
“Yeah.”
“What are you gonna tell her?”
“The truth,” I shrug. “You?”
“The same.”
“D? Are you home?” Shane’s voice comes from the foyer.
“I’m in the kitchen.”
“Get this. I got my settlement!” She sounds like happy-go-lucky Shane, like none of this ever happened. It makes me smile.
She appears in the doorway. “Randy says that I…” she stops when she sees Carmen.
Cut the tension with a knife, then slit my own wrists with it.
“Hi Shane,” Carmen says.
“What’s going on?” Shane asks, looking from me to Carmen and back, as if one of us might explode.
“We’re just chatting.”
Shane looks at Carmen again, then at me.
“Well, enjoy,” she says, her voice thick with emotion, looking for all the world as if one of us might jump up and hit her. Still looking at us. She’s pissed. Then she turns and walks upstairs, and I hear the guest room door shut.
“I should go,” Carmen says.
“Yeah.”
“I’m sorry,” she says at the doorway. “I honestly didn’t want to stir up *****.”
I nod. “I get that.”
“Um, sorry I didn’t get to talk to you under less fucked-up circumstances.”
I smile. Like this girl, and I don’t want to. And then she’s gone.
.
That night I’m stirring pasta, when I hear her come up behind me. I expect to get reamed out for my tete-a-tete with Carmen, but her arms go around me and she murmurs into my shoulder. I close my eyes at the sweet pleasure of it. “Whatcha doin?”
“Making pasta. Want some?”
“Naw, don’t go to any trouble.”
“The water’s already boiling. I can throw in another batch if you want.”
“That’s be great, if you don’t mind. I’m starved.”
I lick my lips, swallow, and put my spoon down. Lean oh so slightly back into her space, turn my head to her. Her hands move under the hem of my shirt, gently grazing my skin in a way that’s idle on her part, but which makes desire rise through me like steam.
“So tell me about this settlement.”
“I got enough to pay you some back rent, to pay Jenny what I owe her, and to last me another six months.”
“That’s awesome. But I don’t want your money. Put it into savings if you don’t want to spend it.”
“No way. I have to pay you.”
“No,” I say. “You’re not paying me a dime and that’s final.” I turn around and face her, for the first time after all this ***** has happened. She smiles, a scared, genuine smile. She doesn’t know what the ***** is going on either. I smile in return and she ducks her head in to peck my lips. Grateful.
We’re sitting in front of the TV eating pasta. I can feel her glancing at me. We’re not touching but I want to. Like two teenagers. Pathetic.
“So, what did you and Carmen talk about?”
I swallow, my tortellini suddenly tasting like mush.
“She likes you.”
“And?”
“And… she came here to see you. I told her you were at work.”
“And?”
I drop my fork into the bowl with a clatter. “And, she asked me what our relationship was. I told her I couldn’t speak for you, and that she’d have to talk to you about it.” Dead quiet stretches between us and my pasta threatens to make a reappearance.
“Oh,” she says, quietly. And though I had planned to broach the subject of our less than stellar communication habits, I can’t quite bring myself to do it. Silence feels like a smothering blanket.
Later, when I go upstairs, I run into her as she’s coming out of the bathroom. The awkwardness has returned. “Sorry,” she says, even though I bumped into her.
“S’okay.”
She’s wearing red boy briefs and a beater. Looks so goddamn lithe and fuckable. I bite my lip and close my eyes.
“Shane?”
I move closer to her, and we stand there in the hall, space between us charged. I touch her shoulder, her breast. Her sharp exhalation is heaven to my ears. Her hand comes up to my back, she touches me, pliant and instantly willing.
I push her toward the nearest bed, which in this case is hers, and we fall there among her sheets. I instantly regret it, and don’t want to be where she’s laid with Carmen. But the sheets smell like Shane, and Shane smells like Shane, and we tangle, sweetly as always, moving together.
This might be the last time, I think, and that melancholy fuels me. I don’t hold back, and I give her everything in me. I can’t get rid of the lump in my throat, can’t swallow down the fear.
I come first, gritting my teeth at the friction of pressure of her between my legs. And then, I hold her close, hand splayed on her back as my other one labors between her legs.
She doesn’t make a sound, but she blinks slowly, and I can feel her tremble and shudder and look into her eyes and for the millionth time since I’ve known her, I want to cry.
After, I kiss her, hover sweetly, my lips pressed to hers. I try to engrave it, all of it, on my memory. Just in case. Torture.
Then I roll over, and close my eyes, so I’m not threatening her. “We need to talk,” I murmur, trying to be as non-threatening as possible.
Her hand, resting languidly on my stomach, moves as her body tightens. “I know.”
“I don’t want things to be all fucked up between us. At the very least we should be able to talk to each other.”
“I’m sorry, D. You hurt my feelings and I guess I wanted to hurt you back.”
I hurt her feelings? What?
I roll over and turn to face her. Is she talking about the way I said “***** you” in the parking garage? What could I have done? “I hurt you?”
“Yeah. It’s stupid…”
“How did I hurt you?”
“When you were sick,” she says. “I wanted to stay and take care of you, but you told me to go out.”
“That?”
“I know it’s stupid.”
“It’s not stupid, okay.” I touch her face, her smooth skin. “It’s not stupid. And I’m sorry that hurt you.”
“I felt… I just wanted to repay you for everything you’ve always done for me. I hate taking things from people, okay, I hate it, I always have. I know I hurt you all the time, I’m not stupid.”
“Shane…”
“You’re always the calmer one, the level one, the one without all this… *****.”
“That’s not true.”
“It feels true.”
“Hey, I’m plenty fucked up.”
Her mouth twitches, but it’s not a smile, and my attempt at levity has fallen flat. She turns away.
“I just feel like I owe you so much.”
But there’s only one thing I want from you, Shane.
I spoon myself around her, bending my legs into the crook of hers, sliding my arm around her. “Hey, when I woke up and saw you there… I know I didn’t show it but I was so touched. That made me so happy. I’m sorry you misunderstood. And you just don’t get it. You’re not a burden to me. I’m happy to help you, you’re my best friend.”
She stiffens a bit and I try to undo it. “You’re so much more than that though, you have no idea.” Because I can’t let myself tell you. “I was so touched and maybe I was trying to hide it by telling you that you didn’t have to stick around and hover over me. And I’m so sorry for that. You need to believe me.”
She nods, wordless. I press a kiss to her shoulder. “We spend way to much energy trying not to communicate things to each other, and I hate that.”
“Me too.”
Long silence. I lovingly stroke her arm, look at her, but all I can see from this angle are the curves of her cheek and jaw. And that’s fine, because at least we’re talking.
“Were you really pissed when you saw Carmen in the kitchen?”
“No. Not pissed.”
“You were upset.”
“I freaked out.”
“Were you afraid I was going to say something bad about you and send her running?”
She turns around and looks at me with her bottomless eyes. I can feel the motion of wheels in her mind, but can’t tell just what she’s thinking.
“No. Not that.”
“Oh.”
“I was afraid you’d be the one running.” She is facing me but her body is still twisted away. She doesn’t take her eyes off of me. She seems spent by these revelations, unable to talk any more.
“I’m not gonna run,” I say. And I gently roll her body toward me, wrap my arms around her, hold her close. “I promise. I’m not going anywhere.”
For long moments she gives me that blank stare, holding me in her vision for a long time. I stroke her soft hair, occasionally glancing at her, making contact, but not demanding anything more. This look would have freaked me out not so long ago, but now I understand it, because I know that it’s not blank at all. I know I’m doing the right thing when she melts into my arms, and we eventually sleep like that.