That
night, I waited for the eleven o’clock sleepover request. Cortez was
predictable with that at least: every other night he would text me at eleven
fifteen, sometimes eleven thirty and occasionally midnight, and we’d all but
follow a script.
“Good
evening, Madame,” he would write in a text, “would you care to come for a
sleepover? Perhaps some hash to be followed with *winkwink* cardio?”
“Why
yes, Monsieur,” I would invariably reply. “I do believe some cardio is much
needed. But I’m very near to falling asleep, shall I head over now? Or you’ll
have to wait until another evening.” I didn’t want him to think I had sat up,
zoning out on TV shows I didn’t like, waiting for his invitation.
While waiting for his “come on over” reply, I would doll myself
up. First I would brush my teeth and give my hair a quick comb through, not
wanting to waste too much energy getting pretty. After ten minutes with no
texts, I’d put on my sexiest underwear, layered under a tight pair of jeans or
a body hugging dress. When, twenty minutes later, Cortez still hadn’t replied I
would put on my glasses. I’d pace around the living room, groaning
intermittently in a mix of frustration and irritation, Isabella watching me
with motherly concern from her perch on the sofa.
“Are you staying at his house tonight?” She’d ask calmly,
giving away her emotions by concealing them so well. “It’s kind of late, isn’t
it? Is he going to meet you halfway? I know it’s just a four minute walk, but I
don’t like you walking around downtown alone this late at night.”
Just as I’d be taking off my shoes or pulling out my pajamas,
my phone would vibrate loudly. Feeling sick to my stomach with anticipation,
I’d ignore it for a good five minutes before coolly strolling over to read my
lovers delayed reply. I asked him to meet me partway a few times, giving up
after the fourth no-show. When I’d arrive at the Ivy, at least an hour since
having been invited over, the door would be locked and the bar deserted. I’d
stand outside, waiting and hoping that he’d be paying attention to his phone
knowing that it took such a short time for me to get to his place from mine.
Usually he would let me in before five minutes had passed, but a few times I
stood outside shivering in my ‘cute clothes’ for a solid fifteen. I felt silly
leaning against the wall and I certainly didn’t feel empowered and womanly like
I had the first few times I spent the night.
Upstairs,
the bong would be packed and waiting, and after a few bowls I wasn’t so mad at
Cortez anymore. So what if he took forever to answer his phone? He was busy
having deep and hilarious discussions with his interesting roommates. Did it
matter that he was always conveniently “waiting for a buddy” and couldn’t come
meet me, when the walk was so short? You’ve only been propositioned for sex
once walking over here, my high brain reasoned, just relax and enjoy the
attention he’s giving you now.
The only variation that night was when I coyly asked him to put
on a ‘raincoat.’
“It even glows,” I giggled, tilting my head to peer up at him
through my eyelashes. “We haven’t talked about what we’ll do if I get knocked
up by accident. I’m pro-choice,” I said quickly, not liking the change in his
face. “But I know I couldn’t have an abortion. Not after everything I just went
through and knowing that I would love that ba- er, yeah...” The air in the room
was thicker than a good beef stew. Cortez said back on his haunches,
thoughtfully tugging at his goatee.
“Well, Madame, I would try to convince you not to have it,” he
said after a long pause. He coughed forcefully. “But uh, ultimately that’s your
decision. You’re very young though, and I’d hate to see you alter your life so
drastically.” I looked at him quizzically, feeling slightly repulsed.
What
kind of statement is that, ‘I would try to talk you into something you don’t
want to do but ultimately it’s all about you?’ I had hoped for, and really I
had expected, a supportive reaction. “Okay Taylor,” I had wanted him to say.
“Let’s use protection every time then, because I don’t want to put you in the
position where you’d have to make that choice. And if we have an ‘oops’, don’t
worry Madame, I will take care of you two.” It didn’t have to be true; it just
needed to be said. I bit my lip and reached for the blanket, not wanting to be
as exposed as I was. Cortez saw the change and before the disappointment in my
belly worked its way to my tear ducts, he leaned forward and wrapped his arms
around me.
“So it glows, you say?” He whispered in my ear, goatee tickling
my neck. A single tear rolled out of my eye, and I rubbed it into his curls
before he could notice. I was suddenly aware of the fact that he was almost a
decade older than me.
“I’m not really in the mood, Monsieur. That killed it for me,”
I tried to whisper too quietly for him to hear.
I felt embarrassed that I’d let my emotions
into the pre-arranged no-strings-attached, friends-with-benefits deal. I
thought back to my excitement when Cortez came back from a weeklong rave on
Bards Island and told me he hadn’t felt the desire to sleep with any of the
girls there, not even the stripper who had flung herself at him constantly. A
doubt crept into my mind, thinking about the times he’d called into the Trout,
claiming to have witnessed a crime or that his house had been broken into when
he wanted to lay in bed with me. I shoved it to the side when Cortez scooped me
up and held me in his lap all night. I was woken up later by his erection,
presumptuously wrapped in a condom, prodding the backs of my naked thighs.
Bizarrely turned on, I rolled over and tangled my body in his.
I
felt a familiar disgust when I woke up in the morning, alone. There was no sign
of the man who made me feel like a lady almost a month ago. I lifted my head
groggily, yanking the sleeping bag-cum-blanket to cover my bare bum. I
remembered him waking me up in the night and groaned. I certainly did not feel
like a lady, and I wanted to not feel as terrible as I did in that moment.
Dressing quickly, I packed the biggest bong rip that I could handle and chased
it with three cigarettes. I figured Cortez owed me at that point, suppressing
any feelings of guilt. He entered, hair wet and even scragglier looking than
normal from the shower, as I was tugging on my boots.
“Oh! Did you want to have a shower, Madame?” He closed the door,
un-tucking the green towel from around his waist. He held it out to me, despite
it being soaking wet. From the rank smell of it, it was still dirty from when
we’d shared it two mornings ago. I shook my head slightly, puffing on another
cigarette. He shrugged and re-wrapped his naked waist.
“I want to shower at home,” I mumbled, looking towards the
door. It was the first time I had woken up and Cortez’s legs weren’t wrapped
around mine. It was too coincidental to have just happened by chance after the
brief emergency baby plan discussion, and I’ve never been one to believe in
coincidences.
“Oh,” he drew in his breath sharply, surprised. “Okay, Madame.
Are you upset with me?” There was an uncomfortably long space of dead air.
“No—Yea, I guess… I’m starting to have feelings for you
Cortez.” I glanced up to see his reaction. “I’m not in the same place as I was
when we started… doing this. You’re too fucking busy to come meet me, but not
busy enough to not have me run over here in the middle of the night. It doesn’t
make me feel good; I feel like your personal hooker or sex doll or something.
It makes me feel icky, and I don’t want this anymore.”
“What is it that you want now, Taylor?” Cortez asked, solemn
for once, lowering himself to sit on the edge of the bed next to me. I couldn’t
help but notice the person-sized space between us.
“I want… I want a boyfriend-girlfriend relationship, Cortez. I
want to be your girlfriend and cuddle up and watch movies, bake cookies and lay
in bed all day—just lay there and enjoy that. We’ve never hung out in the
daytime except at work. I… I want to do things in the daylight with you.” I
cringed at my awkward finish, but it fit perfectly. Cortez sighed reaching for
the pack of cigarettes and lit one. He offered the pack to me and I took
another, ignoring the churning in my empty stomach. The breakfast of scrambled
eggs and home-grown veggies had apparently been a one-time deal.
“Well…” he started, fiddling with a piece of hash and staring
at the wall. “I just got out of a serious relationship, I told you—”
“I
know,” I interrupted. “That’s why I don’t think we should do this anymore. You
made it clear you don’t want anything more, and I didn’t either – in the
beginning. Things in my life changed, and this isn’t working anymore. It
doesn’t make me feel good.”
“I
don’t want to make you feel bad, Madame,” he sighed. “I too crave the closeness
from the bond of a relationship. Right now I can’t commit to that, though I
would love to take you out for a hike at Walakak Park. And I’d love to bake
with you, and watch movies and you know I love to cuddle.” He pulled me gently
down onto the bed and held me. I stared up at him, looking for clues in his
eyes.
“I’m
confused, Monsieur,” I whispered, feeling frustratingly young. I wondered if the
age difference was too much. Older guys know the right things to say, I
reminded myself, whether they mean to or not. “I want the distinction of
girlfriend. You say you don’t want a relationship, but what you just said
contradicts that.” I waited for his explanation, but he dropped his face in to
nuzzle my chest. “No, Cortez, be serious. I’m not going to keep sleeping over
here if you aren’t interested in a relationship. This is hurting me.” His face
still pressed against my chest, he sighed heavily before looking up at me.
“Compromise?
We’ll not be in a relationship, but how about we make our friendship,” he
smiled coyly, “exclusive? Though I haven’t felt the need for anyone else with
you around, rrrraaawwr!” He didn’t wait for an answer before biting my neck.
“Deal, Madame?” He drawled lustily, looking into my eyes.
“Okay,”
I agreed hesitantly. “Exclusive… friendship.” I forced a smile and kissed his
nose. A strange expression crossed his face, like the kiss was an offensive
pleasure. He quickly covered it with a hungry grin, growling and rolling
quickly so that I was laying on top of him. My hand reached down to pull off
his towel, and he had me undressed in record time.
Another
three weeks later, and we’d yet to go for a hike. The plans had been made several
times, but it wasn’t Cortez’s style to set a time. I would rush to finish
everything that needed doing for the day early in the morning. The first time
we were supposed to go, I woke up at six thirty so I could be ready at the drop
of a dime. I was hoping that our daylight activity would bring back the
tenderness that had petered out of our relationship. My good-bye kiss
privileges had been taken away ever since the discussion about babies and
exclusive friendship, and I wanted them back.
“We’ll
go early tomorrow afternoon,” he promised, breathing heavily as he took in my
naked body, contrasted sharply against the Mexican blankets. “God, you’re
delicious,” he breathed.
But
I had no texts the next morning, and by eleven forty five, I knew we weren’t going
to Walakak Park. To be completely honest, I had known when he’d first said it.
I had just hoped that he would give me the simple hike that I wanted, since he always
got what he wanted. When I called him out on it, he turned it on me, saying
“Well Madame, you didn’t text me either.”
“No,
I didn’t,” I shot back, “because I was sitting around, fucking waiting for you.
I didn’t want to be “clingy” or “needy” or -- FUCK! -- “girlfriendy” and then
you’d be mad about that. I didn’t think I’d have to remind you to do something
you claim to want to do with me. It’s literally the only thing I’ve ever asked
of you.” I scooted backwards on the bed, pressing my back, clothed for once,
against the cool wall.
“I
guess we both flaked out, Madame,” he said, a warning tone in his voice. “I’m
sorry you feel so upset about it.”