by Lori L. Otto
Emi. My body finally begins to react. Fuck, Emi. It doesn’t just react, it betrays me.
I pull Kiersten’s mouth to mine, initiating a deep kiss, an attempt to distract her momentarily. I lift her hips, moving her back, away, in hopes of hiding the physical reaction to her mention of one simple word.
Emi.
She moans and runs her fingers through my hair. I kiss her deeply, trying to commit fully to her foreplay, but my thoughts are still with Emi. Her soft, strawberry blonde hair.
My body is reacting to visions of Emi. Who knew bringing up her name would bring up… other things? Fuck.
“What about her?” I begin to touch Kiersten, turning the focus onto her, away from me.
Emi. The way her lips curl into the perfect smile.
I become more aroused. Kiersten leans back tentatively, testing me, feeling every bit of me against her body.
“Wow, Nathaniel,” she says, sitting still. “Huh.” She doesn’t smile. This isn’t her typical reaction. Fuck.
“You know what, I don’t want to talk about Emi.” Her flawless, creamy skin; the dimples that punctuate her cheeks. “Let’s just focus on you,” I suggest, trying to nudge her gently out of my lap and back onto the bed. She doesn’t budge, just kneels back on her heels with her hand in my lap, pressing against me. I sit up, kiss her once more. “Not Emi.”
Emi. Her name consumes me, the very idea of her, strangely liberating. Her delicate frame, her small but ample breasts, how I’ve longed to see them, feel them. The thought brings me to full attention. Fuck!
She moves her hand over me, confirming my fears; likely hers, too. “Kiersten,” I whisper, kissing her earlobe. Is there any way in hell she will not connect the two?
“So, Emi… ” she continues on her earlier topic. The sound of her laugh, the smell of her perfume. I’m definitely ready to go now… and it couldn’t come at a less opportune time. Fuck! Kiersten removes her hand from me, stands up and crosses the room. She puts her bra back on slowly. “I think we need to talk about her.”
I glance at my boxers and pull the sheets over me.
“Yeah,” I sigh heavily. “Maybe so.”
“Do you love me, Nathaniel?”
My mouth drops in an effort to answer, but– not knowing what to say–keeps the sound in.
“Okay… ” she says as she finds some jeans in her closet and pulls them on. “Do you love her?” My whole body shudders at the thought of her. Of loving her. Loving her the best way I know how, which hasn’t been good enough for anyone else… I would learn how to love better, for her.
“Who?” Her small hips, my hands clinging to them tightly as I pull her body into mine.
“Emi,” she snaps. Those angry green eyes, matted lashes, furrowed brow. How I long to rid my head of these images of her. How I want to see her smile again. Laugh again. Love… again…
“No.” My answer is quick, but a complete and utter lie. It even sounds like one as it escapes my lips.
“No,” she repeats. “So it’s purely a sexual thing with her then?”
“What? No!” I laugh nervously. “It’s not just sexual.”
“Oh, so there is something to this?”
“No, Kiersten, I’m just… it’s just… ” I can’t explain it. Not to her, not now. I can’t have Emi. The pigtails. Stop! I don’t want what I can’t have. I don’t want to want what I can’t have. And yet she’s all I want. I pull a pillow into my lap, mortified at the physical transformation my body has made since Kiersten said that one little word.
Emi.
“Nathaniel,” she says, swallowing hard. “Do you love her?” Her eyes search mine, feverishly. I don’t answer. “You do. From the first time you mentioned her to me, I knew there was something there.”
“There’s nothing there,” I tell her.
“I thought I could change you,” she continues, ignoring my response. “But when she was at your loft the other day, I could see it. I could see it in both of you.”
“Really?” I ask, wanting to know more, and then realizing how idiotic my response is. She grabs the pillow from my lap and throws it at my head.
“Get out,” she demands.
Stunned at my non-verbal admission, I stand up, my heart pounding. I love Emi. And Kiersten seems to think she might have feelings for me. I hurry and dress, trying to figure out my next move.
After I’ve got my clothes back on, I address her directly. “I never meant for this to happen to us,” I apologize.
“Us?” she asks. “There was never an us. You’ve always belonged to her.”
“I’m sorry.”
“I thought I could change that. But I had no chance. You were long gone before we ever met.” She pushes me toward the door, unlocking it and opening it. “I can see that now. So get out.”
She shoves my shoes and keys into my chest. “I’m sorry,” I apologize again and duck when she throws the bouquet of flowers at me.
“Get the fuck out!” Her yell undoubtedly will draw the attention of her neighbors.
“I’m going,” I assure her as I step into my shoes and feel the wind off the door in my hair when she slams it.
I want nothing more than to run to Emi and tell her how I feel, what happened… find out if there’s any truth to what Kiersten said. I could see it in both of you.
But I realize I can’t. Not with the taste of Kiersten still on my lips. Not seconds after I’ve ended this relationship. That’s how I fucked things up with her last time. I can’t afford to do that again. I can only hope she’s willing to give me another chance, but now’s not the time to find that out.
Even though this is my last night in Manhattan, I refrain from going to her.
At eight o’clock the next morning, I grab my bags and my guitar and lock up the apartment. I’m excited to have this project in front of me, to have this distraction, but can’t help but feel like it’s coming at the worst possible time. I don’t want to leave New York now. I don’t want to leave Emi. But I don’t have a choice. The project is too important, and we need some time apart. I need some time apart from her and from all women. I’ll find a way to put all my focus on my work for the time being.
I’m tired of hopping from one woman to another, like I’m notorious for doing. I’m tired of Emi seeing me this way. I need some time to get to know myself, to make sure I know what I want… to make sure I’m willing to take this risk with Emi… and if I am, I want to do this the right way. I want to make sure of my feelings for her, even if she can never return them. I can’t mess this up again. It is too important. She is too important.
Before boarding the plane in the morning, I send one text message.
“Goodbye.”
A very clean, very modern, very new two-bedroom suite spans in front of me when I get to my hotel room. After setting my bags down, I take in my temporary home and start to get comfortable. The refrigerator is stocked with the basics, as well as a full assortment of sodas and bottled water. A bottle of champagne chills in ice on the coffee table with a note from Albert welcoming me and letting me know that he’ll meet me in the hotel bar at eight tonight. I put the champagne in the back of the refrigerator, figuring I’ll have no use for it while I’m here.
Most of the boxes I had shipped are already waiting for me in the room. The rest, the ones that contain my paint supplies, should be waiting at the restaurant. After unloading my clothes and belongings into the closets and dressers, I find the framed photo that I had packed at the last minute. It wasn’t an afterthought. I just wasn’t sure I wanted to have the constant reminder with me. In the end, though, I did. The picture is of me and Emi. Her brother took it last year at her niece’s fourth birthday party, which was held at her Mom’s house in Jersey. Neither of us aware that Chris was taking the picture, we were huddled together, talking intently, just the two of us, holding cupcakes. Emi’s expression was very serious as she spoke, but I had a faint smirk on my face. Although I don’t remember what was so gripping about th
e conversation, I do remember the moment quite clearly. I remember the thoughts going through my head anyway.
Emi had frosting on her upper lip, and I had stopped myself from pointing it out to her, allowing myself to indulge in the daydream of kissing the icing from her lips. Eventually, she discovered it and licked it with her tongue, slapping my shoulder playfully when she realized I hadn’t told her it was there.
When Chris posted the photos of the party online, this was the only picture I ordered. Emi had ordered one, as well. I loved that she had a sense of humor about herself. She was never one to take herself very seriously.
I had plenty of other pictures of her, but in none of the others did she ever look so beautiful, and so naturally Emi. I place this one on my nightstand, knowing that it’s the last thing I’ll see before sleep, and the first thing I’ll see when I wake up. It will remind me what all of this is for… her, and the possibility of us.
At eight, I meet Albert downstairs and after a quick drink, we take his car to a trendy restaurant in Hollywood. We are led to a private area in the back where about thirty people are already mingling, drinks in hand. These are apparently his close friends and business partners. I quickly note that the men are outnumbered two-to-one… and that every woman there could be an actress, model or both.
Albert is clearly the life of the party, everyone’s friend. He takes me around and introduces me to all of his acquaintances and I do my best to remember all the names. He makes a more thoughtful introduction to one woman in particular.
“Nate, this is my business partner, Shannon. She was our interior designer for the clubs,” he says.
“Pleasure to meet you,” I say, kissing her on the cheek.
“Likewise,” she tells me, glancing at Albert. “You were right,” she says to him as an aside, but obviously loud enough for me to hear. Albert just nods and walks toward another group of friends.
She turns her attention back to me saying, “Albert says you will be doing the artwork?”
“Yes, uh, I’m very excited to see the location.”
“Will you be going tomorrow?”
“No, the day after,” I tell her. She is remarkably attractive; long legs, curly red hair, a nice smile… but something about her eyes seems a little mysterious. Devious, even.
“I may join you for the walk through. I want to hear your ideas.”
“Oh, of course.”
“Looks like Albert isn’t being a very good host. Can I get you anything to drink?” she asks, sipping from her own glass of red wine.
“No, I’m good, thanks.”
“It’s no problem,” she assures me. “Beer? Wine? Scotch? Slow Comfortable Screw?” She pauses, gauging my expression. I recognize this is the name of a drink, and it’s impossible to miss the innuendo since she follows the phrase by licking her lips, slowly, while raising an eyebrow. “I can get you anything you want.”
“No, really, I’m fine,” I affirm, laughing at her audacity.
“If you change your mind… ” she trails off, walking toward the bar.
I nod, finishing her sentence, “I will definitely let you know.”
Waiters are carrying around trays of hors d’oeuvres, and I snack on a few items, realizing I haven’t had anything to eat all day. I weave in and out of conversations with no trouble. I’ve always found it easy to meet new people… it’s the getting to know them and making good friends out of them part that I have problems with. I tend to keep most people at a safe distance. The only exceptions are the women I’m interested in dating.
Shannon makes her way through the crowd and hooks her elbow into mine. “Girlfriend?” she asks.
“Uh, no… ” I start, smiling.
“Well, Albert says that your agent told him you were always on the lookout for beautiful women.”
“Is that what she says?”
“It’s what she told Albert.”
“Well, she doesn’t really know what she’s talking about,” I laugh. That must be what it looks like from the outside. Kate typically knows of the people that I date, but I never really go into particular detail with her. The only woman she knows anything about is Emi, and that’s just because Emi has been there from the start… gone to all of my shows… supported me all the way. But Kate has always accepted the explanation that Emi and I are just friends.
“Really?” Shannon asks.
“I just got out of a relationship,” I tell her. “I’m not really ready for another one.”
“Who said anything about a relationship?”
I laugh nervously. “I’m flattered, Shannon, but I’m not… really… interested. You’re a beautiful woman, really… it’s just… the timing’s not right.”
“Fair enough,” she says, dropping my arm and walking away. After talking to a few more of his friends, I decide to find Albert and let him know I’m going to take a cab back to my hotel.
“No, let me take you back,” he insists. “I’ve got an early day tomorrow, anyway.” He thanks everyone for coming and we head out to get the car.
“Shannon not your type?” he asks as soon as we drive away.
“Oh, she’s beautiful,” I comment. “Just, uh… ”
“What’s your type? I told you I’d show you a good time while you’re here, just let me know what you’re looking for.”
“Oh, uh… ” I’m a little taken aback. “Albert, really, you don’t need to go to any trouble. This job’s going to keep me plenty busy. I really just need to focus on the work.”
“Right, so you’re going to forego women for a month?” he laughs. I do fully intend to… surely I’ve got enough will power to last that long. I’m doing it for Emi. If she’s the prize, I know I can do it.
“I don’t need the distraction,” I assure him. “You want art by the time you open, right?”
“Of course,” he says. “Just let me know when you change your mind. I’ll find the perfect girl for you. There are plenty to choose from here… whatever your preference.”
“Sure, okay, thanks.” It’s easier than arguing.
“If you’re worried about commitment, these girls don’t want it.”
“Good to know,” I say quietly as Albert pulls up to the hotel. “I appreciate it.”
“Anything, man,” he says. “Okay, so you’re gonna settle in tomorrow, right? I’ll have a rental brought by. Then we can meet on Thursday to do the walk-through.”
“Sounds great, looking forward to it.”
“Have a good night,” he tells me. “If you change your mind… ”
“Of course,” I laugh as I get out of the car. “Thanks.” It’s late and I decide to turn in for the night.
The next morning, I wake up before the sun comes up, still on New York time. I make some coffee and head out on the east-facing balcony of my suite to watch the sunrise. The view of the Hollywood Hills is breathtaking as the early rays welcome the day. I decide to take a picture with my phone and email it to Emi. I know she would appreciate it. I wish she were here to appreciate it with me.
“Good morning from LA” is all my message says. Every cell in my body is telling me to hit the send button. It pulsates, waiting to be clicked, taunting me. I play out the events in my head. I send the picture, she will open it. What will she think of it? Of me sending it? It’s an olive branch, a peace offering, but I have no idea how she’ll respond. She never texted me back when I left New York. She must still be angry, and why shouldn’t she be? I chose another woman over her. I don’t know how to start rebuilding what we had… and I’m not sure there is any way she would be happy to hear from me.
And honestly, what am I trying to gain from it? I’ve decided the only way to move forward is to convince her to give me a chance as something more than a friend. I won’t get that from her. This email, this small gesture, only stands to hurt us both more. I close it, choosing not to save it.
Even staring at the beauty of the city in front of me, I miss my hometown. I miss New York, everything about it.
I think about all the places I visit, my local grocery store, the coffee shop, the park, the movie theatre, my apartment, Emi’s apartment… it all reminds me of her. Manhattan is my home… but it is Emi, too. Everything about it reminds me of her. Places we’ve been, things we’ve done, the sights, the sounds, the smells. I can’t imagine being there now, in a city so small, her just a few blocks away, but half a world away. I wonder if I can go back… if I can resume any sort of normal life with her there.
We would undoubtedly run into one another at some point, at some event, party, club, gallery. We would be strangers. We would be two people who had difficulty forming words into meaningful sentences… sentences that wouldn’t hurt one another, that wouldn’t remind us of our past, that would attach to them no emotions. We would talk about the weather. We would talk about the news. We would talk about anything but us… if we were even able to speak at all.
It’s unimaginable to me, to think we’ll be in the same city, pretending to not be. I can’t let that happen. When I go back, I’ll figure out how to fix this. It has to be fixable. I love her too much to be without her. I just have to make it through this time apart from her.
I wonder how I’ll make it a day, a week, a month or two without Emi in my life. I know this will be good for me, in the end. They say absence makes the heart grow fonder. I wonder if it will for her. I wonder if she can ever feel the same way about me as I feel about her. It’s been nearly thirteen years. The only times she’s ever shown a romantic interest in me is when copious amounts of alcohol are involved. I learned quickly from that night her freshman year in college that I wasn’t what she was looking for, but still, I hoped she would see in me what I saw in her. How naïve I was. How eager. How much I wanted her to love me, even then. Still now.
For me, now, the first step is to figure out who I really am. I have jumped from one relationship to the next for so many years that I’m not sure who Nate– just Nate– is anymore. I need to focus on myself, be introspective, learn to find love in other things, like my work or nature or music… or myself. It’s not just about romantic love, sexual love. There is so much more to life. And when I think about it, I think Emi knows that side of life so well, knows herself better than most, knows how to find love in the world around her. But she is unfamiliar with the romantic love, the sexual love. It almost seems like we are the missing pieces to each other’s life puzzles. Could either of us truly feel whole, without the other?