Grit and Grind

by Kat Addams

  If she could give him her body, herself, her heart, he could give her what was going on in his mind.

  “I haven’t had the chance to be in love. Now, I know that sounds bad. An old guy like me. But I’m just being honest with you. I’ve been too busy with my career, and I’ve never sat still long enough to find the one. Or a one. Or someone.” Chris shrugged. This time, it was his eyes averting hers.

  “So, if it hit you right in the face, you wouldn’t even know what it was?”

  “I guess not. I’ve never really thought about it. I mean, I guess my parents love each other, but they weren’t ever really around either to show me how that looks. Man, I’d better stop now. I sound like a walking Psychology Manual or a Huffington Post article on who not to hook up with.”

  Klara laughed. She was so glad he was opening up to her.

  “Well, you sure do write some good love stories for someone who has never been in love.”

  “I read a lot,” he said, which was true.

  “Well, that’s not real love. That’s fairy-tale love. Now, I know that shit isn’t real. Love takes work. It takes a choice to commit to someone. Day after day, night after night. Sometimes, it hurts.”

  “Hurts? How?”

  “Because, when you love someone, you want them to be happy. No matter what. No matter what that means for you. Even if it means you aren’t in the picture anymore. That’s how you know it’s love.”

  They both sat in awkward silence. The water growing cooler, their words hanging in the air. All this talk of love, and the familiar sadness was back again. For Klara, it was because she had hoped this conversation would go a different way. For Chris, it was because he felt like a huge failure in life, and he was ashamed for Klara to know it.

  “How do you know all this? Did you have someone you loved?” he said, cutting through the tense air like a hot knife.

  “Are you kidding me? I dated a bunch of Farmer Asshats! I just read a lot, too. Maybe too many self-help books. So, there. Now, we are even on the field of shame.”

  Chris laughed as Klara lifted the mood with her always-witty remarks. If he did love someone, it would be someone like her. Or her. He didn’t know anymore. The limerence was getting to him.

  “I feel like this conversation is just too damn deep to have sober. I think I need to do something manly. Like throw some axes or do a keg stand.”

  “Manly? Now, don’t tell me you are all about toxic masculinity and that alpha-male bullshit and that you can’t talk about your feelings.”

  Shit. He knew better than to say something like that. Even if it wasn’t what he meant. But he did totally mean it. Talking about his feelings made him super uncomfortable. He was going to have to work on that. For Klara.

  “You’re right! I’m so uncomfortable, talking about my feelings! I feel like I need to yell like Tarzan or something. Help!”

  “Did you say I was right?”

  “Yes.”

  “You’re so fucking perfect,” she growled.

  “Except for the fact that I just perpetuated alpha-male culture and played into the stereotype when you’re working hard to smash the patriarchy.”

  “Dude, you said I was right. That’s a damn good step in the right direction. Now, get out of this tub and fuck me like an animal. You can do your Tarzan yell then.”

  Chris looked at Klara as if she had two heads. Did she really just say that? He was so turned on by the look in her eyes. Her pupils dilated, as she was ready to devour him. Who knew telling a woman she was right would make her go primal? He was going to file this one in his memory bank, too.

  Klara stood up, biting her lip, her fists clenched as she held herself back. Chris pulled the drain, stood up, and looked her square in the eyes.

  “You, Klara.” He pointed toward her. “Me, Chris.” He pointed toward himself. He beat his chest with his fists, swept her off her feet, and carried her to bed.

  eight

  “Ouch! Memphis heat!” Chris groaned as they stepped off the plane. “How do you even survive these summers?”

  “Copious amounts of alcohol and air-conditioning.” Klara smiled.

  She was used to the sticky mess that seemed to last more than half the year. She thought it had to be better than having a freezing cold winter. She wasn’t a cold-weather type person. At all. She needed to be out and about with her hands in the dirt and a warm breeze in her hair. She sighed, already missing the beach. Chris was so damn lucky to call it his home.

  “Alcohol and air-conditioning. Right. Good plan. Want to get some writing done in the lobby with some drinks?”

  “Actually, I was thinking I needed to swing by Miss May’s and check on her. I’m usually over there just about every other day. I need to make sure she’s watering those plants! I can swing by later though?” Klara answered him without any bit of hesitation.

  “Uh, okay. Sure. Sounds good.”

  Chris was a little confused. Am I imagining things, or is she being short with me? He wouldn’t mind seeing Miss May either, but he got the feeling he shouldn’t invite himself. He went through the day’s events in his head to see if anything he had done would have pissed her off. He had nothing. The day had been a great one. Breakfast in bed, sex, shower, more sex, flirting at the airport, contemplating sex on the plane and ultimately both chickening out, silly conversations, a lot of laughter, and now, they were here. Distant. Almost. Or she was at least.

  “I want to thank you, Chris, for inviting me to your home. For taking me on an amazing trip. For helping me with my work. For listening to my babbling. And for just being such a good friend.”

  Friend, he thought. So, she is distancing herself.

  “Klara, you’re worth every bit of it and more. You’ve helped me with my work too, ya know. I’ve not been able to write nonstop like this in a very, very long time. You’ve given me so much motivation.”

  “The feeling is mutual. I think I’ll be done with my book by the end of the summer. And I already have two more planned. That’s all you.”

  “Not a chance, Klara. That is all you. I’ve just been lucky enough to point you in the right direction. But you’ve been heading that way all along.”

  Klara sighed and gave him a peck on the lips. She was now back in reality, and there were five more sleeps until she had to say good-bye for who knew how long. How am I ever going to do this long-distance thing? She was going to have to check Amazon’s self-help section on this type of relationship. She imagined lots and lots of phone sex in her future.

  They drove in silence, ignoring the familiar sadness wrapped around them. Her shoulders slumped as she tuned the radio to something, anything, that wasn’t going to make her ugly cry. Classical. He liked classical. She was okay with classical. Klara let her mind drift as the music took over. Her mood seemed to be lifting with the high notes, the violin playing a chipper beat. Klara was dancing inside to the beat of the symphony when her stomach rudely began to join the concert.

  “What the fuck was that? Was that … was that your stomach?”

  Klara hadn’t eaten since breakfast, and she hadn’t even realized she was hungry until she smelled the familiar scent of barbecue hanging in the air downtown. When she recognized the bubbling in her stomach, the one that came as a warning sign that her bowels were about to shake her whole body in frustration unless she fed them now, it was too late to panic.

  “I think I might be just a bit hungry,” Klara said, mortified. Her face turning bright red.

  How can I be embarrassed of my stomach growling? Really? Am I ten?

  This man had seen her spread-eagle on the bed. Facedown, ass up. Balloon knot and all. But her stomach did sound dangerous at the moment. Like it was going to crawl out of her mouth and kick Chris in the face if he kept on going. Hangry. She was about to be hangry.

  “Jeez Louise! That sounded angry! Are you drowning some cats in your stomach acid in there? Pull over, and let’s get you something to eat! That can’t be good, Klara! I think you’re
eating yourself from the inside out.”

  Klara laughed, noticing the mood in the car now had done a complete one-eighty. No more sadness, just laughter and rabid growling from her stomach. At least her focus was now on how to shut her stomach up and not on how to keep herself from crying in front of Chris. Oh, the horror! That would be much worse, much, much worse. She was glad her insatiable appetite had intervened.

  “I’m okay! I’ll get something quick at home before I head back out. I’m going to shower and all. You know, airports are icky!” Her stomach growled again, as if responding to her.

  “Okay, but I’m outta here before it eats me up!” he said as they pulled into the hotel drop-off. He dramatically hopped out of the car, grabbed his bag, and ran for his life back inside with his hands waving around like a maniac.

  Klara laughed hysterically at his antics before pulling away. The doorman shook his head like he had already seen enough for today.

  Now that she was alone—and in a much better mood, thanks to her rumbly tummy—Klara finally had a chance to think and take in all that had happened during the weekend. She had to tell someone. And, while her acquaintances from school couldn’t know about the naughty visiting author, she knew Ms. May would be more than glad to lend her an ear. Klara put on her love-songs playlist, turned it up, and sang her heart out as she drove. Cloud nine wasn’t even good enough. Klara was on cloud fifty-three and a half. The half being the tiny little part in her brain that told her it would soon be time for him to go. But she quieted that part with cheesy lyrics and terrible tone.

  When she pulled up to Ms. May’s house, the street was eerily quiet for a late Sunday. She knew Ms. May would be cooking Sunday supper around this time. Her house would smell of roast, bacon fat, butter. But there wasn’t any scent of food in the air as she stepped on the porch to ring the bell. She waited but no answer. Klara paced the porch, noticing the rose bushes were looking parched. She decided to grab the hose and water them as she waited. Maybe Ms. May was in the back or on the toilet. She knew how old people were slow. She had patience.

  “Klara?” she heard a voice calling from the porch next door.

  It was Ms. May’s neighbor, Gloria. Gloria was everything Ms. May was not. Kind, sweet, gentle, and a walking Bible. She could quote a scripture for every situation.

  “Gloria! How are you? I was just looking for Ms. May. Have you seen her?”

  “Oh, I’m so sorry, sugar. She’s at the hospital,” Gloria answered sorrowfully.

  “The hospital?” Klara started to panic. I was gone two days, and that old bag decides to pull this crap? “What for? Is she all right?”

  “Nobody knows. She left in the middle of the night. Been gone since Friday when the ambulance picked her up. But we have faith that she’s okay. She’s a tough one. The Lord nurses them when they are sick and restores them to health. Psalm 41:3.”

  “Which hospital, Gloria? I’ll head there now to check on her.”

  “Central, I’m sure. It’s the only one they take us to around here,” Gloria said, her voice flat.

  She and Ms. May had lived next door to each other over half of their lives, and even though they didn’t always get along, Gloria had a soft spot for Ms. May. She was just another soul that needed saving after all.

  Klara started to sweat and shake as she made her way to Central Hospital. Her foot heavy on the gas pedal. What if Ms. May is gone? What if she is dead? What if she is in a coma? What if she just broke a toe and wanted to be dramatic? The last sounded most plausible, but Klara braced herself for the worst when she walked through those glass doors. The place smelled like chemicals, mixed with meds, mixed with death. She knew she wouldn’t last very long in here. Klara could never work in a medical environment. Her stomach was queasy just from the smell alone. Her appetite suddenly gone.

  “I’m looking for my friend. Marilyn May. She was brought in Friday.”

  “Down the hall, to the left, room 121,” the nurse at the desk answered without looking up from her phone.

  Thank God she’s not dead at least, Klara thought, making her way down the brightly lit hallway.

  Her eyes scanned the room numbers, searching for Ms. May’s room, but she soon found out she didn’t need to do that. She saw a nurse step out of a room and throw her hands up in the air, defeated. That was the room Ms. May had to be in.

  “Knock, knock!” She tapped on the door.

  “Come in. I know who it is. I heard your goofy gait click-clacking down the hall. It’s ’bout damn time. You gonna tell me where the hell you been? Because the only excuse good enough for you not coming to check on me earlier would be you being laid up in here, next to me.”

  Klara pushed the door open, took one look at the weak woman in the bed, and caught her breath. She had been prepared to say something snarky back but held off, terrified of what was happening to her old friend.

  “You look terrible, Ms. May! What the hell happened?”

  “You don’t look like a spring chicken either, young lady. Now, where you been?”

  “You first! What’s going on? What’s all this for?” Klara said, motioning to the monitors, the IVs, the meds.

  “Heart attack. I almost died. I saw my life flash before my eyes, Klara. And it was a bad one! So bad! I need to get my ass back in church because that light was turning dark. So dark.”

  “You were probably passing out; that’s why!”

  “Look here, Ms. Know-It-All! I know what I seen. And Ms. May has some explaining to do one of these days.”

  “You can start here and now. Explain to me. Are you okay? Do you hurt? When do you go home? What can I do to help you?” Klara questioned her old friend. Her voice quivered with fear and concern.

  “Yes, yes, and sometime this week, they best be letting me. If I have to eat one more piece of this old folks’ mush, I told that nurse she’s gonna find this bedpan flying across the room!”

  “Well, that isn’t very nice! Remember that light turning dark? I think being nice to your nurse is a step in the right direction to getting in God’s good graces now, don’t you?”

  Ms. May rolled her eyes, crossed her arms, and pursed her lips.

  “Your turn. Why you leave me when I was at my weakest point? You just upped and disappeared last week. I didn’t know if you was murdered, sick, fired, or what!”

  “I was with him. Chris,” Klara whispered, trying to hold back a smile. Because smiling in this place, with that poor old coot laid up like that, well, that wouldn’t be right. At least, Klara thought so.

  But, when she looked up at Ms. May, Ms. May was beaming.

  “Uh-huh. So, Chris. Tell me, when y’all having babies?”

  “I’m not even married yet!”

  “Girl, I told you, men are trouble. You don’t need to be marrying ’em to get the goods.”

  “But what if I want to marry them? Him? Someone? Eventually. After school and all.” Klara’s voice trailed off.

  “Does he know this?”

  Klara caught the sparkle in Ms. May’s eye.

  “Know what?”

  “Don’t play dumb with me, Klara. Does he know you love him?” Ms. May’s eyes were narrowed, as she was clearly trying to read Klara’s mind.

  “I don’t love him! I only just met him.”

  “You do,” Ms. May muttered, not skipping a beat.

  “I don’t!”

  “You do.”

  “No, I don’t! Besides, he just limerences me,” Klara said, rolling her eyes.

  “He what?”

  “Limerence. It’s like being in love but not being in love. He said it’s natural to feel this way and that we can try dating long-distance because he really limerences me. Or something like that. So, I’m just going to limerence him back.”

  “I’m going to limerence my foot in his ass the next time I see him.”

  “Remember the darkness, Ms. May.”

  “He’s gonna see the darkness. What kind of shit is that? Limerence. Klara, you’d bett
er not go any further; you are gonna get hurt. He clearly ain’t the committing type, just like all of them. All of them,” Ms. May urged her, shaking her head in disgust.

  “I’m trying, Ms. May, but I had such a magical weekend with him, and I—”

  “Magic ain’t real, honey. If he’s making excuses to himself and to you about how he feels, he’s afraid. And most men who are afraid, they run like cowards. Limerence? I never heard no man use that line. Sounds like a bunch of bullshit to me. Like lust, just lust. And that’s easier to say. Sounds to me like he just wants your goods.”

  “I guess he feels more than lust though. According to him.”

  “That would be love—or falling in love at least. He can’t say that word? Run.”

  “It’s only been a week.”

  “Have you been spending every day with him since y’all met?”

  “Yes.”

  “Have y’all been going at it like rabbits every day? Looking all doe-eyed and mouthwatering like ya about to eat each other up?”

  “Yes.” Klara had no shame. She was still on cloud fifty-three and a half, except slowly decreasing that number with all this sense Ms. May was making.

  “Do you love him?” Ms. May continued. Her head bobbing back and forth with each point she was making.

  “Yes.”

  “See? You already know. Women know. Men know, too. They just don’t admit it. They don’t feel safe. Too vulnerable. Cowards.”

  “I’m not telling him how I feel either though! That’s embarrassing! He’ll think I’m crazy for falling so fast!”

  “Good. Don’t tell him. And back off. He ain’t committing, and things are about to get real hard when he leaves.”

  Klara nodded. She knew Ms. May was right, and here she went down the path of what-ifs again. What if this next week he fell in love and said it? What if they were able to make it work long-distance? What if we got married and I had his beautiful babies? I would love to have Chris’s babies. What the hell is wrong with me? Does love make me crazy? Or limerence?

  He seemed more levelheaded than her. It had to just be limerence to him. Ms. May was right; she should run. But she didn’t want to.