Run Catch Kiss

by Amy Sohn

  He buys a whiskey sour for me and a vodka tonic for himself, and as I sip my drink I look around the room and see all the men that are better looking than Adam. I am counting the minutes till I am free of him. When our glasses are empty, I suggest that we check out the lobby.

  We link arms, waltz in, and sit on a long lavender couch. I look ahead, with a slightly cross-eyed, half-dead, Kate Mossian gaze. Adam looks at me. He thinks I am beautiful, even though my lipstick is smudged and my eyes are getting red from the drink, and I’m beginning to smell from the sweat that comes from knowing I’m such a cruel, cruel bitch.

  He’s looking at me adoringly now, but I’m looking up toward the windows of the restaurant on the next floor. All the people at the tables are clear skinned and mean. They look down at me and know I’m about to break some serious corazón. They support me in this endeavor, even though they realize I will never be able to get a table where they are eating because I am not tall enough.

  He leans in to kiss me. I turn away. He looks at me, startled. Why, he thinks, whatever is going on? He tries again to kiss me, more viciously, but his breath is so rank from the alcohol, his eyes so desperate, that I can’t continue with the ruse.

  “Adam,” I murmur. “There’s something I’ve been meaning to talk to you about.”

  “What?” he asks, his voice quivering and whiny.

  “See, I, we, it’s just—nothing.” Excellent. Now I’ve planted doubt in his mind. Now he’s terrified of what I’m going to do to him, and I’ve put the onus on him to drag it out of me.

  “You can tell me,” he says.

  “I really didn’t want to ruin this evening, but . . .” My voice trails off.

  “What is it?”

  “Our relationship has been going downhill for a while now, and you’ve been completely oblivious.”

  “Oblivious to what?”

  “See what I mean?”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “I never cheated on you.” His jaw drops. “That’s right. That column was all a sorry ruse. A sad attempt to make you reveal your deep-rooted, undying love for me. But all it did was make you reveal your total lack of respect. I lied when I said I forgave you. I never did and I never will. How could you have taken me so lightly? How could you stoop so low?”

  “I—” His lower lip is shaking.

  “It’s over, Adam. Over like clover. You’re a sad remnant of a once-pathetic past, and being near you makes me realize I can achieve much more. See the guy with the mustache up there, having dinner with that redhead? He’s been eyeing me all night. When I put you in a taxi home, he will tell his date he has to use the toilet, come down here, escort me to the ladies’ room, and very quickly and quietly kneel down, open his mouth, and bring me to a thrilling climax with much more skill and accuracy than you ever could. He knows how to treat a woman. And you don’t. Your company is a constant painful reminder of my former naiveté. You are a walking regret, and the thought of letting your thing anywhere near my glistening jewel makes me achingly ill. Do you have alight?”

  He doesn’t want to be kind to me but he’s more attracted to me now than he’s ever been before. He lights my More. I don’t smoke Mores but I brought them along just for this occasion.

  “I wish I could say I’m sorry,” I tell him, “but I’m not. In fact, I blame you. If you had recognized what an incredible catch I was, you never would have cheated on me in the first place. I feel no shame in letting you go. You are my biggest mistake. Let me hail you a cab.”

  He is stunned. He wants nothing more than to fuck me or hit me or both. He is slowly recognizing that it will take him years to get over me and that there is nothing he can do to change my mind. I rise slowly from the couch, take his arm, and escort him to the door. A cab is waiting, light and welcoming. There is a Virginia Slims ad on top of it. The woman in the ad looks at me. She is on my side, even though she can’t let her husband know she smokes. I open the door and slide Adam in, then slam the door and stick my head in the front window. I give the cabby the address and slip him a twenty. He smiles appreciatively at my figure and I slink back into the lobby.

  My guy and the redhead are no longer at their table upstairs. I worry that they have left. But then I spot them at a couch across the room. He is still watching me. I sit, tap out another More, light it, and inhale meanly and slickly. The redhead goes to the ladies’ room. I pray she’s taking a long, slow shit.

  He crosses the room, sits next to me just as I’ve taken a drag, grabs me firmly and confidently, draws me in close, and presses his lips against mine like in an old movie. I pry his mouth open with my tongue and exhale into his throat. He inhales, then blows the smoke out through his nose, kisses me again, and whispers, “I’m sending her home soon. Don’t move.”

  The door to the bathroom opens. He dashes back over to his couch. She emerges. I know she does not wash her hands after she makes. I see that her dye job is cheap. She sits with him for a few more minutes, and then he takes her outside and puts her into a cab. He comes back into the lobby, sits down next to me, and tells me his name.

  •

  “Laura and I did more than just kiss,” said Adam. “We made love.”

  My body shot out the window and slammed down onto the sidewalk with such force that my guts splattered on every car from Cobble Hill to Red Hook.

  “I know this must be hard for you to hear,” he said, “but I’ve been turning everything over in my head, and I really think we can work through this.”

  “Work through this?”

  “Yeah. As angry as you must be at me, and as angry as I am at you, at least we can take comfort in the fact that we’ve both erred. To err is human. We’re human, Ar.”

  I could hear the words “I didn’t err!” forming on my tongue, but I stifled my gag reflex and tried to deep-throat them.

  “What I’m trying to say is,” he said, bowing his head, “I forgive you. Do you forgive me?”

  I wasn’t sure. What did his fuck mean? Had he done it because he was secretly unsatisfied with our sex life? Were all his problems saying “I love you” due to the fact that, deep down, he was still in love with her and always would be? Could a person be too much of a patsy—even me?

  But maybe his hookup had been just that—a hookup. Didn’t fifty percent of all Americans cheat on their spouses at some point? Maybe this wasn’t any different. Maybe I had to think Christian on this one and turn my cheek, when what I really wanted was an eye for an eye.

  “What was it like?” I said. “I mean—are you wondering if you two should be together again? Do you miss her? Do you still have feelings for her?”

  “Not at all. Not at all! Afterward, I felt really miserable. What about you? Are you really into this guy?”

  “No! It was totally sexual and nothing else! It . . . it didn’t even feel like it was happening.”

  “Good. So do you forgive me?”

  I hated myself for being so weak willed, but at the end of the day, I didn’t love him any less. I still wanted him in my life.

  “I . . . guess so,” I said glumly.

  He took a piece of my hair in his hand and caressed it, then rubbed my cheek and said, “You know, a lot of couples would break up after an ordeal like this. I mean, it would be so easy to just call it quits after this kind of crisis. To say, To hell with this. Obviously something here is just not right.’”

  “I know just what you’re saying.”

  “But we’re more sophisticated than that. I think this experience could be good for us. It can make our bond a lot stronger. If we can get through this, we can get through anything.”

  “That’s . . . one way of looking at it.”

  “We’re so brave. We’re pioneers, really. Do you realize how mature we’re being about this? It takes a lot of courage to think long-haul, and that’s just what we’re doing. Your honesty is much more important to me than your fidelity. I’m just glad we can be upfront with each other, instead of having to carry o
ur secrets around.”

  “Terrific.”

  “It is terrific. I feel so much lighter now, knowing you know. Knowing you forgive me. Don’t you feel lighter too?”

  “Featherish.”

  “It feels great to be straight with you. This is so healthy. You know what I feel like doing right now?”

  “What?”

  “Guess,” he said, then began kissing my neck.

  The whole while through, I pictured him with Laura. I had never seen a photo of her before, but I’d developed a very vivid image of her in my mind: blond and waifish, with Uma tits, buns of steel, and abs of lead. Unshaved pits, uncombed hair, and a natural, Aryan, Vermont-farmish beauty (even though he’d told me she was from Detroit).

  As he ground away on top of me, I pictured him grinding away on top of this amalgam of all the Little House on the Prairie sisters, and I pictured her whimpering and yelping and clawing at the air, coming fifty times in a row, and him feeling like the stud of the universe because of it.

  He came quickly and fell right asleep. I wanted to smother him with a pillow. My cat had cornered me. There was no way I could one-up him now. You can’t outcheat a fucker. There’s just nowhere else to go. Except maybe anal. And I didn’t have the energy to pen that one. All this fake philandering had wiped me out—and for nothing. He’d been unfaithful but I loved him too much to break up with him, and I could never tell him the truth. I looked at his sleeping face and wondered how Laura had tasted.

  •

  Sara called me at my desk as soon as I got to work in the morning. “I have something to tell you,” she said.

  “Me too.”

  “You go first.”

  “No, you. I guarantee mine’s worse than yours.”

  “OK.” She sighed. “Rick and I broke up last night.”

  “Why?”

  “He decided he wants to move back to Seattle to pursue his music career again, and I told him there was no way I was leaving this city. So we’re ending it. He’s moving next week.”

  “I’m so sorry.”

  “It’s OK. I’ve been thinking about everything, and as good as the sex was, I’m not so sure we had the longest shelf life. I mean, I’m going to be severely catatonic for the next few weeks, but in a way, I think it makes a weird sort of sense. What’s your news?”

  I told her.

  “He what?”

  “Yep.”

  “You have to dump him!”

  “I don’t want to dump him!”

  “But he cheated on you! Don’t you feel any anger?”

  “Of course I do, but I’ve decided to forgive him.”

  “You are really pathetic.”

  “I know.”

  She was quiet a moment and then she said, “Well, if you’re going to stay with him, there’s only one way you can do it and still maintain a shred of dignity.”

  “How?”

  “You go fuck Ben for real.”

  “Sara!”

  “That’ll level the scales. There’s your balance of affection. You have nothing to lose. Adam already thinks you did anyway, so why not?”

  “Because it’s cheating!”

  “Hello! Don’t you think the sanctity of your pairing has been the tiniest bit marred already? You’ll feel so much better afterward. If you ever had a motivation to stray, you’ve got one now.”

  I wondered if she was right. Was I pathetic for forgiving him so easily? Would it help to go sleep with Ben? Or would it just make me feel worse than before?

  That night, Adam and I were supposed to meet at P.S. 122 to see a performance art show. I got there a few minutes late, expecting him to be waiting for me. But he wasn’t. After five minutes, I was irritated; after ten, antsy; and after fifteen, worried. I started to imagine all the horrible accidents that could have befallen him, and then it occurred to me that maybe he was with Laura. Maybe she was sucking his dick right this very second, under a hemp comforter on a frameless futon in some rent-stabilized East Village studio with lots of wall hangings and cats. I’d never be able to compete with that tight Aryan mouth, those pert nips. I was allergic to cats.

  Suddenly Adam came rushing up the street. “I’m sorry I’m late,” he said. “I couldn’t find a parking space.”

  He kissed me. I smelled his neck. Nothing foreign, nothing sweet. I was ashamed to have jumped to negative conclusions so quickly. Just because he’d wandered once didn’t mean he would again. His fling was over. It was me he wanted now. I just wasn’t sure I still wanted him.

  •

  After the show he suggested we go back to his place. When we got up to the apartment I went into the kitchen to get some water, and as I was opening the refrigerator he came up behind me and wrapped his arms around me. “I’m so hot for you,” he said. “I was thinking all day today about being with you.”

  I closed my eyes and tried to pretend everything was the same between us, but then I got this image of him with Laura again and I couldn’t get it out of my mind. I took out the water, moved down the counter away from him, and poured myself a glass.

  “What is it?” he said. “Don’t you want me?”

  “I don’t know,” I said, turning to face him.

  “What do you mean, you don’t know?” He got this wounded look in his eyes.

  “I’ve been feeling really angry at you,” I said. “Can’t you relate to that even a little?”

  “No. I’ve totally forgiven you. I feel like I’m seeing you in a new light. I just . . .” He embraced me and kissed my shoulder. “I can’t keep my hands off you.”

  I closed my eyes. For months I had been wanting him to touch me like this, to need me like this, but how could I enjoy it when all I could think about was her?

  “Maybe we should just go to sleep,” I said.

  He gave me the hound-dog gaze again and said, “Fine.”

  “Adam—”

  “No. If that’s what you want, then fine.” He went into the bedroom.

  I walked into the bathroom and brushed my teeth. I looked at my face in the mirror and saw a frightened, miserable person behind two sad eyes. I felt ashamed for not being able to tell him the truth, but I didn’t know how I could. He was warming to me. He wanted me. My lie was bringing him closer. In a completely demented way, my plan had worked. If I could just get Laura out of my mind, maybe he and I could work everything out.

  I went into the bedroom. He was lying in bed reading John Fante’s Ask the Dust. When I came in he didn’t look at me. He just put down the book wordlessly and went to the bathroom. I took off my bra and jeans but left my T-shirt on, got into bed, and faced the wall. A few minutes later he came in, turned out the lights, and got in next to me, his back to mine. I tried to breathe slowly and relax, but my heart was pounding and my palms were wet. I tossed and turned for the next hour, but I couldn’t tell if he was awake or asleep.

  “Adam?” I finally whispered, my back still to him.

  “Yes?”

  “Are you having trouble sleeping too?”

  “Yeah.”

  “What should we do?”

  “I think I should drive you home.”

  We shifted onto our backs and lay there silently for a while, and then I got up and put on my clothes. He dressed next to me and we went down to the car.

  •

  He came over the next night, and as soon as we got upstairs I pulled him to the bed. All day at work I had been feeling violently jealous, and I had decided to show him I was better than Laura. I wanted to make him come so hard he’d forget all about her. We got under the covers and he lifted my shirt and buried his face in my breasts. But after just a few minutes he took his mouth off my teat and said, “There’s something I want you to do.”

  “What?”

  “I’m a little embarrassed to tell you.”

  “What is it?”

  “Well, I was thinking today, about what . . . happened between you and Len.”

  “Ben,” I said. “His real name’s Ben.”
>
  “Whatever! So it was making me really upset. I guess this isn’t as easy for me as I thought. Anyway, I got to thinking, How can I make myself less jealous? and I got an idea.”

  “What?”

  “I was wondering if you could . . . tell me about what happened. Talk about it, while I lie next to you and . . .” He looked away.

  “Play with yourself?”

  He nodded. “I know it sounds bizarre, but I really think it might help me come to terms with this.”

  Jumpin’ Jehosophat. This was some sick-ass shit. But how could I protest? He was looking to me for help. Maybe this little exercise would bring him closer.

  “Um . . . where do you want me to start?” I asked.

  “Start in the bar when you kissed,” he said, adjusting himself under the blanket.

  “Are you sure you want to do this?”

  “Yes.”

  I cleared my throat. “So . . . um . . . after the party, we went to BarCode, and we had a couple shots, and we were looking at each other, and he put his hand on my thigh and kind of leaned in toward me.”

  He closed his eyes. The blanket started rippling slowly. “Did it feel good?”

  “Really good,” I said, cringing. “And as he leaned in, he pulled his chair closer to mine and leaned his body against mine, and I could feel him, you know . . .”

  “Get hard?”

  “Exactly. That. Against me.”

  “I bet he was really hot for you.”

  “Mmm hmm.”

  “And you were hot for him, too.”

  “Mmm hmm. I really was. Boy, was I. So he asked if I wanted to leave and I said yes and we went back to his apartment.”

  “Where was it?”

  “A few blocks away.”