by J. Cafesin
"Then can you just make a quick trip over there?" Mitchell pestered.
Lee looked at me exasperated as he handed me the white wine he'd poured for Suzanne. "Me casa a su casa, everyone," he announced. "Please help yourself to food and drink." Then his eyes locked on mine. "I'll be right back," he said softly. "Come on Mike." And he went out the front door with Mike in tow.
Mitchell stayed a few feet from the door. I sat on the bench for the synthesizer, drank my Diet Coke and listened to people chat as I tried to rationalize Lee going to score. Shelly was closest to me, sat on the chaise lounge that extended from the couch, holding her pregnant belly. I inquired about their coming baby, but it was hard to pay attention looking at the door every other second hoping to see Lee come back in.
Lavonne saved me by joining into, and then taking over the conversation. Bless her. I watched my friend tuck a loose strand of her curly dark hair behind her ear and focus her blue eyes on Shelly, the way she used to look at Jon when he mattered to her, and me sometimes when I do. Her friendly, freckled face smiled a lot and laughter came easily and reflected her lightness.
Suzanne talked to Mitchell still standing near the kitchen. Jon and Steve were equally engaged. I smiled, glad for the scene, except for my missing boyfriend. Ten minutes later Lee and Mike returned. Carl came along too and brought this hippie-type couple, easily in their 60's, he claimed were his parents. I introduced myself, unsure if he was joking. Carl had shoulder length blond hair, blue-eyes, was tan and built, and beyond just a weed dealer, a big-wave surfer, he claimed. And he knew the best waves from the Wedge to Montecito so he wasn't a poser.
Lee joined me on the bench after he got himself a Diet Coke, his small condo quite crowded by then. "Hi.” He leaned over casually and kissed me.
"Hi." I felt mad at him, but wasn't sure why. The noise level escalated substantially with the new arrivals and it was hard to hear Brian Ferry singing Don't Stop the Dance.
"You got any rolling papers, Lee?" Mike came out from the kitchen with a Heineken in hand.
"You're not smoking that in here." Shelly said, rubbing her swollen belly.
Mike just stared at her, and Lee didn't say anything, so I said, "Of course he's not going to smoke it in here. Right, Mike?" I glared at him.
"Oh, yeah." Mike finally said. "Right. Of course. We'll use the balcony. No problem." He looked at Lee. "So, what about those papers. Can you give me a hint or should I rummage?"
Lee had his poker face on, looked at me and shrugged. "I might have some papers in the junk drawer, the big one at the end of the counter."
Mike went to rummage. I looked down, embarrassed by the scene. Minutes later Mike, Mitchell, and soon-to-be-dad, Steve, went out to the balcony to share a joint. Shelly scoffed, shook her head, mentioned since pregnancy her husband had agreed to quit using around her, and was livid with him when the boys came back in, wouldn't let Steve touch her when he sat next to her and tried taking her hand. I wouldn't want to be in their car on their way home tonight.
Lavonne suggested we all play Scruples, ostensibly to unite the crowd. Everyone joined in. We made up our own rules, had everyone draw one card and answer the questions. And Lee and I agreed on most every answer except for the last one.
"If you could be anyone besides yourself for twenty four hours, who would that be?" Lee read his card aloud.
From Carl's 'mother' to Shelley, every woman there said they'd want to be a man for a day. Some said a famous man, some said any man, but each of us sought the experience of what it felt like to be male. In contrast, there wasn't a man in the room that wanted to be a woman. Not even Lee. Every guy there said some famous rock or sports star, or some macho movie star, or just plain rich, Mitchell added.
"I never want to be a woman." Lee said definitively. "Men have all the advantages. We get to have kids without the hassle of periods or the pain of childbirth. We don't have to choose between work and family, and even without a degree we make more money, and have way more career and advancement opportunities. We don't have to get off the ladder of success and wreck our earning potential to be the primary caretaker, so we never have to be dependent on anyone else to get by. I don't know why any man would want to be a woman, even for a day."
I looked around the room. Every guy was nodding and smiling. My skin prickled. Lee was right, of course. Men still ruled in our society, and the sexual equality I thought reachable in my lifetime suddenly seemed light years away.
Everyone mingled after playing Scruples. I sat on the edge of the coffee table and talked to Jon and Lavonne until I noticed Lee out on the balcony with Mike and Mitchell. I excused myself and went to be with my boyfriend, praying he wasn't getting high. He saw me coming towards the glass door before I reached it and smiled at me as I joined them.
It was cold out, the air full of mist and the sweet scent of weed. I actually salivated, my desire for a hit keeping my eyes on the joint like a mooching dog as Mike passed it to Mitchell. Lee leaned against the wall of the balcony, seemingly not partaking. The tall pines behind him bent in the breeze and I shivered, then moved in to snuggle. He hugged me, then released me.
"Why don't you go back inside and get warm." Lee said softly, like it was a suggestion for my welfare instead of the dismissal it was.
I looked at Mike and Mitchell, then back at Lee standing next to me. "Join me?" I suggested casually.
"Give me a minute. I'll be in soon." He smacked me on the ass playfully as I turned to go back in.
I glared at him as I went back inside. I thought I may cry, so I went into the kitchen and started cleaning up to avoid interacting. There was no way to tell if Lee was getting high with his friends, but it was likely he was. I too, wanted a buzz to achieve that sublime lightness, focusing on enjoying the moment instead of the dissolving grand plan of my life. But I'd made a promise to myself to quit, as Lee had to me. And I had every intention of keeping my word, though the smarter part of me knew it absurd to expect that of Lee.
I heard the three of them come back in a bit later. Lee didn't join me in the kitchen. He stayed in the living room and socialized. Suzanne was the first to go, giving Mitchell her number before leaving. She started a trend and by 3:00a.m. everyone had finally left.
"God, I thought they'd never leave." I shut the door on drunken Carl and his spacey parents.
"Me too. I think everyone had a good time though." Lee stood at the kitchen threshold staring at the mess in the living room. "Let's leave it for now. We can clean up in the morning." He held out his hand to me.
I hesitated, considered asking him if he got high with Mitch and Mike but didn't. I was too afraid he'd broken the pact between us, or knowing he lied if he used and said he didn't. I moved to him, took his hand and he led me up the stairs to his bedroom. I noticed the paperback of Lonesco's Rhinoceros on his end table as he gathered my face in his hands and kissed me.
"I'm not ready for sleep just yet. Wired from the party, I guess." He pressed his groin into mine and I felt his hardness, his intention now obvious. "See what you do to me?"
"More than happy to be with you, sweetie, but if you want to be inside me we're going to have to use a condom." After last weekend's adventures with his family, and tonight imbroglio with his friends, the idea of reproducing with Lee suddenly seemed...icky.
We had sex with a condom, but it took him quite a while to get off, leaving me raw inside. I lay next to him, staring at the ceiling. He rolled onto his side and looked down at me. I rolled away, onto my side so he wouldn't see my face and snuggled back into him to conceal the distance between us. Lee spooned me and whispered sweet nothings in my ear. He rambled on about our kids to come; Sara's graduation with her MBA from Stanford; Kyle finishing his doctorate in biology at Berkeley, on track for working on a cure for cancer.
Icy shards prickled my scalp and the distant voice of intuition pierced my consciousness denying I'd ever have children like these with Lee.
"So, when Kyle is 13, do you think he'll be a t
ypical rebellious teen?" Lee continuing to play our now familiar game. "Or will we be privy to his life, among his trusted confidants?"
"I plan to be," I said wistfully, longingly. My vagina burned and it was hard to get into the game right then but I played anyway. "I'll do my damnedest to stay connected to my kids, and to prove to them again and again I can be trusted to be there for them."
"My kids?" Lee teased, sort of. I was sure I caught an edge in his tone.
"You know what I mean." I hadn't, couldn't say our kids.
"Good night." He rolled onto his back. Within a minute he was asleep. I stared at the ceiling. He'd scored for his friends tonight, most likely used with them. And though getting high 'occasionally,' didn't bother me, I knew that simply wasn't possible for Lee, or me. It was just a matter of time before he'd score for himself again. And I would have hated him right then for being the addict he'd denied he was, but I hated myself instead for believing him when I knew I shouldn't have.
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Chapter 25
"So what did you think of Lee?" I asked Jon a few days after the party.
"I thought he was really nice." His tepid response was telling.
"Come on, Jon. Let's hear it."
"What do you want me to say? I liked him."
"But…?"
"Well, if you really want the truth, I don't see you guys making it for the long run."
Ouch. "Why?"
"I don't know, Ray. He seemed smart, like you said, but not as smart as you, intellectually, I mean. But that's not really the thing. It's like, when we talked he was trying to figure out what I wanted to hear instead of giving me his opinion. Like he knew you'd be asking me what I thought of him and he wanted to make sure I liked him. You know what I mean?"
"I guess. I'm not sure. Extrapolate."
"He's a consultant, essentially a salesman, right?"
"Right."
"Well, he's a damn good one if you want my opinion. All I'm saying is watch out."
"Watch out for what?"
"That he ain't selling you a bunch of crap. That what he says and what he is aren't two completely different things. I don't know. I just got the feeling that what I was looking at wasn't the full picture with Lee. Be careful. Anyway, I thought you weren't attracted to short, heavy-set guys."
"I'm usually not. I don't know what it is about him J. He makes me feel really special."
"I bet."
"What's that supposed to mean?"
"That's what makes him such a great salesman. He tells people what they want to hear. Look Ray, I don't want to see you get hurt. You had a lot of good reasons for your reservations. Why don't you have them anymore?"
"I do. I just want to give him a chance. You're the one who is always telling me that I expect too much from the men I date."
"That's true. Well, you know him better than I do. He seems nice enough, I guess," Jon said. "I hope he turns out to be everything you need. I really do. I want to see you happy with a good guy. You deserve it."
"And you don't think Lee is that guy?"
"I don't know him well enough yet. Just take it slow is all I'm suggesting. Get to know him through what he does, not what he says. That's going to take some time so try not to jump into this with your heart. Use your head." He was giving me the same speech I usually gave him, except I would say his dick instead of his heart. "You know all of this," he continued. "Do yourself a favor and take your own advice."
"Are you telling me I should walk away from Lee?"
"No. You asked me what I thought and I gave you my initial observation. I'm sure it's tainted by what you've been telling me since you met him. Maybe I'm even a little jealous you're falling in love, and not with me." He was trying to be kind, not a familiar space for Jon and he sounded corny instead, but I smiled at his attempt anyway.
4/13/92
Potential, like Intentions, or Love, are meaningless unless put into action.
-----
Two weeks after our party, I was in bed writing in my journal and watching the KTLA Morning News. CHP officer Theodore Briseno was testifying against fellow officer Laurence Powell for beating Rodney King in clips of the ongoing trial when Lee called. Shelly gave birth to a healthy girl the night before and he suggested we go see the baby on the weekend. I'd never been a enamored with infants, often fretting over the early stages of parenting, concerned how I'd manage slobbering, smelly, crying newborns that couldn't communicate beyond screaming. But I agreed to go. I wanted to see how Lee would be with a baby.
Saturday evening we were on our way down to Shelly and Steve's house in Long Beach listening to the Pretenders. I looked at Lee focused on driving. His face was fuller, like when we first met, making his features seem rather puggish, and I caught a glimpse of his father's profile, and felt nauseous.
He insisted on getting dinner before seeing the baby. The only place open in downtown Long Beach was a small steak and seafood place across from the harbor. During the work week the streets of the second largest port in the country were filled with foreign sailors, contractors and day laborers, but like downtown L.A., at night and on the weekends the place was deserted.
The restaurant was practically empty except for the bar which was filled with local boaters knocking back beers and shots. Lee and I sat across from each other in a dim booth, a candle in a red jar flickered on the table between us.
As a starter Lee ordered a bowl of clam chowder and a side of mushrooms in garlic and butter. After finishing those he moved on to a full rack of beef ribs. He was enraptured as he consumed each bite. Red sauce dripped down his fingers and coated the sides of his mouth. He ate like an animal devouring a fresh kill. I felt sick watching him eat. His gorging scared me. Like my mom with my dad, I'd likely spend a lifetime on Lee's case to control his eating. And I wanted to smoke a joint so bad I could taste it.
Pay attention! Intuition herald, though I didn't want to hear it. Lee wasn't overweight because of his ex-wife, but probably had been, and would be for life. I counted every morsel of food I put in my mouth since losing weight in high school. I'd had bouts with Bulimia to purge myself from my lack of discipline, and Anorexia to prove to myself I could control my own behavior. I played racquetball not for the love of sports, or even the game, but for the calorie burn. I absolutely refused to go back to being heavy like I was growing up, not only because thin was in, and forever will be, but letting myself get fat again was wearing addiction on my sleeve, and I absolutely needed to achieve more than the sum of my weaknesses.
"So, what do you want to do tonight after we see the baby?" Lee asked, licking his fingers. "Personally, I'd like to go back to your place or mine, smoke a joint, hang out and relax." He didn't look at me. He gobbled a huge bite of potato salad.
"Okay..." My skin prickled. "I was thinking about a movie or something like that." I kept it light, assumed he was just sounding off, inside my head again, joining me in my cravings. "We can stop at Blockbuster on the way home, pick up a video and watch it at my place."
"What I really want to do is go home, call Carl and score, get high with you over some backgammon, maybe take a jacuzzi later as a prelude to unencumbered sex." He said it matter-of-factly, his poker face on.
"You're serious." I practically whispered.
"Well, yeah. Look Ray, we've been straight for almost four months now. And that's long enough for me to decide I like stoned better. I mean, being straight is fine, not an issue while I'm working, but in the evenings sometimes I just want to relax and smoke a joint. And I don't see what is wrong with indulging occasionally."
"You promised me you'd quit using. You gave me your word, Lee. Or was that just rhetoric to get me in bed?" I shook my head. "I assumed you were good to your word and ready to grow up."
"You know what happens when you assume..." but he didn't finish the idiom aloud. "Exactly how long was I supposed to quit to prove to you I'm not addicted to weed? I told you back in January it wouldn't be forever and I'd go back to indulging occ
asionally."
"Three and a half months straight after a lifetime of using is nothing. I thought the point of quitting was to prove to me and yourself that you aren't addicted. You go back to using now and you're proving you are." I couldn't watch him stuff another forkful in his mouth so I stared down at my plate scattered with greens from my Caesar salad. And I don't even like salad. "You just don't get it, do you?" I felt like crying.
"What I get is that you're trying to be controlling. Look, let's just forget it for right now and go see the baby. I don't feel like getting into it, okay?"
It wasn't really a question. He picked up the bill. I took it away from him, laid some money on the table and we walked out. We didn't say anything on the ride to Shelly and Steve's. We cooed over their infant for a half hour or so, which was surprisingly cute with his tuft of blond hair and wide blue eyes, then sat around and talked about nothing for another half hour and left.
The atmosphere was thick between us in the car. He blazed along the 710 at 80 mph, pushed in The Cars Heartbeat City CD and didn't speak. I didn't either. It felt like if I said anything at all he'd come undone.
"I think I'm just going to drop you off at home." Lee finally spoke as we passed Griffith Park. "I'm feeling really tired and I want to get to sleep. We'll talk in the morning, okay?"
Again, I knew it wasn't a question. I tightened inside, fear and outrage vying for position. "Lee, is it all about the chase for you?"
"What?"
"I mean, did you just want to prove to yourself you can get anyone you set your mind to by telling me what I wanted to hear? Or were you for real about wanting to be with me?"
He sighed heavily. "No, my dear. It's not about the chase. I really want to be with you, Rachel. But sometimes I get the feeling you don't really want to be with me. The way you were looking at me over dinner. I know you thought I was being a pig. You don't like what I eat. You don't want me getting high. You insist on a condom between us.” He sighed again. “Look, forget it. I'm just tired. It's late. We can talk about this tomorrow."