by Shelly Cruz
“Hey, beautiful,” Nate says, taking a seat on the stool next to the service bar.
“Hi.” I place a bottle of Sam Adams onto the bar and lean into my right hip. “You know what you want to eat, or do you want a menu?”
Nate orders food, and we chat for a while between my serving customers until it’s time for him to get ready for their set tonight.
“Want to hang out later?” he asks before leaving the bar, resting his hand over mine while he’s waiting for my response.
“Sure.” I pull my hand away and turn my back to him, feeling Nate’s stare as I do.
“I want more,” Nate says. We’re lying in my bed, naked and uncovered, still breathing heavy from the sex we just had. I already know where this conversation is headed.
“More what?”
“Us. I want more.” He sits up to remove the condom, ties the top in a knot, and places it on the floor.
“What do you mean?” I ask, sitting up to reach for my glasses on the nightstand, grabbing my shirt from the floor.
“You know exactly what I mean. I’ve been trying to bring this up for weeks, and you always find a way to avoid having the conversation. So let’s have the conversation now.” He scoots closer to me, stretches his hand, and rubs the pad of his thumb across my beauty mark.
For the first time, his touch makes me cringe; the feel of his skin upon mine makes me feel dirty. I never should’ve let this much time pass. My gut feeling always told me this was wrong, and I ignored it. All it did was fuel his desires, lead him on, and give him false hope of having a relationship with me.
“You knew when we started hanging out that I didn’t want a relationship. Nothing has changed. This is all I can give you.” I stare at him but avert his gaze.
“This—” he gestures his hands between the two of us “—what is this?”
“We’re friends with benefits, fuck buddies, whatever you want to call it.” I yank my hand away.
Nate squints, and his mouth falls open. “We’ve been together for six months, and that’s what you call us?”
I toy with the frames on my face and turn to look out the window. “Yes, that’s what I would call us because we’re not together.”
“Lena, I’m trying to have a conversation with you. Can you at least look at me?”
I shift, and my eyes meet his again.
“If we’re not together, then what are we?” His eyes are red and are pleading with me.
“I just told you. We’re friends with benefits, nothing more.”
“Why won’t you commit to me, to us? We could be good together.” He brushes the back of his hand across my cheek, and my stomach curdles.
I stand up, walking across the room, and stop next to the door. “I don’t want a relationship, never have. I think you need to leave.”
“What? Are you serious right now?” He jumps from the bed, darting across the room to stand before me, his proximity causing me to shudder away from him. “Lena, don’t do this.” His hand attempts to grab mine, but I jerk it back before he can grasp onto me.
“Nate, I’m sorry. You need to go. We can’t do this anymore.”
“Why won’t you talk to me, open up? I’m trying here. Throw me a bone, something.”
“Don’t try, Nate. I’m not worth it. There is nothing for me to give you.” I cross my arms.
“You won’t let me ask questions. You won’t talk to me. You were closed off in the beginning, but I figured with time, you’d get over it, open up with me, and be willing to be in a relationship. Here we are six months later, and you’re still the same closed-off girl. What happened to you?”
“I’m not talking about it with you. Now, can you please leave?”
“You know, Lena, what you’re doing is really messed up. Has this been your intention the whole time—use me for sex?”
“Yes.” I can see the hurt sprawling across his face at my words, and I am an asshole for saying that to him. But I have to end it with him because I can’t give him what he wants. I’m empty inside, and I have nothing to offer.
“Wow.” He picks up his jeans from the floor. Once dressed, he marches out of my bedroom and toward the exit. I follow.
Before opening the door to leave, he stops and says, “You know, I didn’t expect the answer to that question to be ‘yes.’ That hurts a lot, and never in a million years did I think you capable of being such a cold, heartless bitch.” He opens the door and leaves, slamming it behind him.
He’s right. I’m a heartless bitch. The day I left Massimo, I lost my heart.
I’m driving to Winterset, Iowa, the town where all the covered bridges of The Bridges of Madison County are located—the bridges that drew me to escape to Des Moines in the first place. I’ve been here several times since moving to Des Moines last year, and the 30-mile drive is one that I enjoy. Long enough to clear my head but short enough to make it regularly. The radio plays in the background, and Chris Isaak’s “Life Will Go On” streams through the speakers—it’s like he’s singing to me.
This drive reminds me of the ones Massimo and I used to take to Crane Beach in Ipswich, whether for the day or to stay for a few nights. We would eat at Woodman’s of Essex or the Ipswich Clambake and stroll along the boardwalk, regardless of the weather. We are both lovers of the ocean, and Crane Beach was our favorite. Last September was the last time we were there together since we didn’t have time to make it this past winter.
Last Year
“Lena, let’s go to Crane Beach. I rented a room at Shea’s Inn for a couple of nights.”
“I have to work tomorrow night. I can’t go.”
“I got your shift covered. Pack your bag.”
It’s mid-September, and the weather is still warm enough for the beach. During the summer, Massimo and I usually go to the beach once a week. Sometimes it was just the two of us, other times with a group of friends or family. He knows it relaxes me; the salty air and ocean waves are therapeutic. Massimo likes to say it’s for me, but every time we’re sitting in the sand, I sneak glances at him, seeing his face visibly relaxed. He’s always busy and on the go, whether with the restaurants or with his family, and he rarely sleeps.
“Why the last-minute trip?”
“Why not? We’ve been busy the past few weeks with the end of summer tourist rush, and I want to spend a few days just the two of us. What better place than the North Shore for a quick getaway with my girl that’s quiet, romantic, and has some of our favorite seafood restaurants?” He embraces me, dropping kisses along my temple.
Massimo likes surprises and last-minute trips. He’s spontaneous that way, which I love about him.
“Okay, you know I love it there. I’ll never say ‘no’ to the beach.” I go into my closet to search for my weekend bag to pack.
The old tattered sheet is spread across the sand, and we lie sprawled across it. The September sun is still warm, and I want to enjoy every last drop of it because the cold weather is creeping in. It’s a Tuesday afternoon, and the sand around us is mostly empty. Gone are the summer days that filled the sand with umbrellas protecting babies from the sun, kids building lopsided sandcastles or digging holes to fill them with water, coolers filled with drinks and cold cuts for sandwiches.
Massimo always brings his radio to the beach. Today we’re listening to some of his favorite Italian music. Claudio Baglioni’s “Questo Piccolo Grande Amore” is playing. The first time I heard it, I asked him what the lyrics meant, and he told me it’s about young summer love and the intense emotions that accompany it. He said his mother played this often because it reminded her of when she and his father were young, and Massimo was a little boy. I wish I fully understood the lyrics because the melody is beautiful.
There’s a couple near the shoreline sitting in beach chairs, letting the water splash at their feet while they watch a young child play. Two joggers run the coastline, one barefoot and the other in sneakers. I am leaning back on my elbows, looking out to the horizon, Massimo’s head
resting on my belly. The ocean is calm today, not roaring in its usual way that crashed the waves at a furious pace.
“That’ll be us when we have kids. I’m gonna buy us a beach house so we can be beach bums.”
“Sounds perfect.”
Massimo gives me a quick kiss and springs to his feet before saying, “I’m hungry, gonna run over to the Snack Shack and get us some lobster rolls and fries. You want anything else?”
“No, that’s good. We still have some drinks in the cooler.”
Lobster rolls are my favorite summer food. It’s a tradition in New England. I like them served cold. Massimo likes them served warm with drawn butter. We always debate about whose tastes better.
After eating our lobster rolls, we lounge on the beach until the sun starts dropping, and the chill in the air forces us to leave. Days relaxing and enjoying each other’s company are few and far between. With the schedules we keep, we rarely spend quality time like this together, even if we live in the same apartment. I’m glad we made one last beach trip before winter sets in.
Winterset is a quaint and quiet town. I first stop to have breakfast at the Northside Café, a historic place in the center of town that has to-die-for eggs Benedict. After breakfast, I drive out to the Holliwell Covered Bridge. It’s my favorite of the six bridges. The bridge itself is beautiful with its red and white painted wood, but it’s my favorite because it sits over the Middle River, and listening to the water running downstream soothes me. I need a quiet place to think and clear my head.
When I still lived in Boston, that place was one of the nearby beaches. Winthrop or Revere always did the trick, even if they weren’t my favorite. The crashing waves and salty air worked wonders to clear my head. The Middle River is a far cry from the ocean, but soothing nonetheless. I sit in the rocky area by the river to the left of the bridge and take in several deep breaths. My eyes sting from the falling tears, and my heart aches from the crushing weight of what I left behind and what my life has become.
I feel desperate, alone, and empty.
Breaking it off with Nate was the right thing, so why do I feel so bad about it? I know I had to do it, mostly for him, but for me too. Over the past six months, we’ve had a lot of sex. But, despite enjoying the sex with him, I was distant. My heart was off-limits. Rarely was I able to look him in the eye, and never did I express any feelings toward him. Sex with Nate may have physically satisfied me, but it emotionally drained me. What’s worse is that I used him and was starting to hate the person I was becoming. Fucked up as it is, I felt like I was betraying Massimo, which is ridiculous, considering I left him. Regardless of how much time I spent with Nate, I can’t stop thinking about Massimo.
One day at a time, regret eats away at me. I can’t shake it, and it’s been over a year. I thought by now it would’ve at least lessened, the distance making it easier to forget. Instead, despair gnaws at my skin, and everything I thought would be isn’t. Every plan I made for myself unravels. Robert Burns said it best: the best-laid plans of mice and men often go awry.
Even working at The Last Drop reminds me of Massimo. It’s the bar scene, mixing drinks, stocking the inventory, the day-to-day stuff that comes with the job. Although I bartended before meeting Massimo, I was new to bartending. It was Massimo who got me excited to join his family business. I miss everything and everyone in my old life. I’m spiraling into a funk and need to do something to stop myself.
“Hi, Luce.” She answers my call on the second ring. “I’m glad you picked up. I really need a friend right now.” I sit on my couch, crossing my legs, and cover myself with a blanket.
“What happened, Lena? Is everything okay?”
“Yeah. No. I don’t know. I’m so blah lately. I don’t know what to do with myself.”
“Why don’t you come home?”
“I’m not ready to do that yet.”
“So, I guess you’re also not ready to tell me why you left?”
“Ugh. No, but please don’t lecture me, not today. I’ve had a terrible week and just need a friend.”
“That’s what friends do, Lena. They lecture you when you’re stubborn and do stupid shit. It’s literally my job description!”
“Will you come visit me?”
“What? You’re going to tell me where you are?”
“Yes, but you have to promise me that you’ll never tell Massimo or any of his crew.”
“I don’t see them or talk to them. How would I tell them? Besides, I’m your best friend. You can trust me.”
“I know, but it was never about me not trusting you. It was about protecting you from Massimo’s persistence. You know how he is.”
“Do I ever! It was nearly every day after you left, but I haven’t seen or heard from him in months. I’m guessing he moved on.”
“I miss him! So fucking much! My heart aches for him.”
All I can hear is Luci’s steady breathing. I know she’s trying to bite her tongue because she has no sympathy for me regarding my feelings for Massimo.
“Remember Nate, the guy I mentioned I was seeing?”
“Yeah.”
“I broke it off with him. He kept asking for commitment, and I couldn’t do it—couldn’t give him more.”
“I thought you liked him?”
“He’s a nice guy, but that’s it. I had always told him I didn’t want a relationship, but he figured I would change my mind. I thought sex with no strings would be easy, but it isn’t. It’s just as complicated as a relationship—maybe more. The longer we continued, the worse I felt about myself. I started feeling shame because I was using him for sex. It’s not who I am.”
“At least you recognized it and know not to do that anymore.”
“I guess. How fucked up is it that I felt like I was betraying Massimo?” I drop my head back, letting out a long sigh.
“You need to get over him.”
“It was the biggest mistake of my life that I deeply regret, and I can’t fucking take it back.” Tears trickle from my burning eyes.
“I love you, Lena, but you made your bed. This is all your own doing. You chose to be selfish, so I don’t feel sorry for you. I’m sorry I don’t have kinder words, but you need to stop moping over it and move the fuck on.”
“I know I have to, but I feel like I’m stuck on a hamster wheel.” My heartbeat increases, and I exhale loudly to try to calm my nerves.
“Do something about it. In all the years I’ve known you, you’ve never been one to sit and dwell. What are you gonna do to change your state of mind?”
“I’ve been thinking about finding a new job, but really don’t think that’ll do it. I mean, bartending is bartending. Even that reminds me of Massimo.”
“When we were growing up, you used to talk about being a lawyer, and you were gonna take the LSAT before you left. Have you given that any thought?”
“Honestly, I haven’t given anything a thought. My brain has been mush lately. I need to snap the fuck out of this funk I’m in.”
“Why don’t you look into it again? You graduated from UMass with a 4.0 GPA. You’re feisty, and you can argue anyone into the ground. Oh, and in case you didn’t know, you’re kinda stubborn. You’d make a great lawyer, and I’m sure you would get into law school! I’ve known you most of my life, and you’ve always accomplished everything you set your mind to. This is no different.”
“True. I know I’m in my head now. I need to get out of my own way. I need to figure out how to move forward despite this persistent throbbing in my chest. I also haven’t been doing any type of exercise. That’s definitely not helping either.”
“Look, I don’t know why you left, and maybe I won’t ever know, but it was obviously something you felt was important enough to walk away from the man you love.”
“It was.”
“Okay. There. That alone is enough. Remind yourself that all this headache you caused and put yourself through, that you put all of us through, was for a purpose and stop dwelling on would’
ve, could’ve, should’ve.”
“Talking to you always makes me feel better, even when you lecture me.”
“I know, I’m awesome,” she asserts. I can practically see her beaming through the phone.
“You truly are. I don’t know what my life would be without you, Luce, really. I smooch you.”
“I smooch you more.”
“So, will you come out and visit me? I’m in Des Moines.”
“Iowa? I never would’ve guessed that’s where you ran off to.”
“Precisely why I picked it.”
“Smart. I can probably go out in a few weeks. Let me check my work schedule, and I’ll see if I can get a week off. I’ll let you know in a few days.”
“I’m wicked excited to see you. Seriously cannot wait to hug you. Let me know as soon as you find out so I can take the days off from work.”
“Same girl, and I will. Talk soon. Bye.”
“Bye.”
“Let’s have dinner at the new Mexican place that opened. I could use a few margaritas. Besides, I need details about why you broke it off with Nate,” says Stevie.
Stevie and I both have Monday nights off and have a standing dinner date every week. She insisted on it after she forced her way into my life. I’m glad she did, though. Stevie’s been a great friend. She reminds me of Luci in many ways. I know they’ll love each other when they meet in a few weeks when Luci visits.
Stevie has long, blonde hair, thick and straight. She uses a curling iron to curl the ends in big, loose curls. Her heart-shaped face is always made up with foundation and blush. Her almond-shaped eyes never go without eyeliner or mascara, and her sharp lips are slathered in lipstick. It’s the rare occasion I see her not wearing makeup.
I told Stevie about Massimo and most of my history of how I ended up in Des Moines, except she doesn’t know my secret. I’m not ready to share that with her or anyone.