Once I see she is, in fact, breathing, I take a shower, get dressed, and then make reservations at a nice restaurant for dinner. Then I pace around and wait for her to wake up.
“Remind me not to stay over when I want to sleep in,” she mumbles as she stretches her arms over her head and yawns. She sits up and narrows her eyes at me.
“What?” I say. “It’s past two. I let you sleep in.”
“You’ve been moving around all morning. You’re driving me crazy.”
“You’re freakin’ deaf. How would you know?” I pull the covers off her, and she groans and throws a pillow at me. Then I grab her ankles and she yelps and laughs.
“I can feel you pacing.”
“You and your extra senses. I need to remember that. Anyway, now that you’re up, let’s do something fun. What do you want to do? I made reservations for dinner later but that’s at eight. What about from now until then? Pool? Beach? Park?”
“Oh my God! Too much energy!” She pushes me away. “I’m going to take a shower and then we can resume this conversation. Meanwhile, try to do something about all that energy, will ya?”
I lay back on my bed and watch her walk away. She’s so fucking cute. Just like a little tiger.
I grab my iPad and practice my finger spelling while she’s showering. There’s a video online that teaches kids to sign, and I’m finding it the easiest. I’ll never admit that to her, though. I’ve mastered most of the alphabet already but it takes me forever to spell out a word, even though I find it easier than reading or writing. I think because it’s more spaced out or maybe because I don’t have to actually see it on paper or something. I don’t know why, but my brain can decipher it a bit easier.
“TV and snuggling. Maybe pool, but maybe not because that would entail getting dressed.”
I look up from the iPad just as she sits on the bed, her hair wrapped up in a towel, another towel around her body.
“You don’t want to do anything at all until dinner tonight? I wanted to impress you. Have a nice day. And you want to mope around the house all day?”
She crawls on the bed, plucks the iPad from my hand and sets it on the nightstand. Then she lies comfortably on top of me, her chin on my chest. “You don’t need to impress me. I’m a sure thing, remember,” she teases, and damn if that doesn’t sting. “I’m already impressed; I don’t need anything more. I don’t need fancy dinners and cool outings. But if you have plans or need to do something, I get it. I can go home so you can get things done. I don’t want to be in the way.”
I turn her face to me. “It’s not about you being in the way. I thought we’d hang out. It’s the first time we don’t have work.”
She moves up, kisses my nose, then snatches the remote control from my nightstand and smiles cheerily. “Great! Then let’s hang out.” She flips onto her back and turns on the television in my room.
I should be ecstatic. She’s not asking for anything—she’s happy just being with me. She wants just me—just my time and my presence. We’re not even having sex at the moment, which obviously has to mean that she likes me, if not she’d have left. I don’t know why I’m feeling so weird about it all.
Or maybe the deadline is just beginning to become very very real. Every day is one day closer and after our argument, we haven’t mentioned it again. But it’s all I can think about.
I snatch the remote from her hand, which startles her, and turn off the TV. “No. You know what. No. You don’t need fancy dinners. No one needs fancy anything. But don’t you want one? I want to take you to a nice restaurant. I don’t want you to think I just want you for sex.”
Her brows crease. I mean, that is our arrangement, after all.
I continue. “Okay, I do. But also, I want to eat a good meal and since you’re here, I want you to come with me to dinner. Let’s get to know one another outside of this bed. Can we do that?”
“I…uh…yeah, of course.” Her cheeks flush as if I’ve embarrassed her. “I haven’t really gone to a fancy restaurant in years. It would be nice.”
“Great,” I say as if it’s a small victory.
And we don’t spend the rest of the day watching TV. Instead I try to sign something and she teaches me one word and that leads to another and before we know it, we’ve spent most of the day in bed signing. You’d think we actually did a lot of talking but it takes me so long to finger spell even the shortest word that it’s really not a lot of conversation but she’s patient and funny and a great teacher.
That evening we go out to dinner, and she wears that black romper she wore for our first date when I stood her up. I spend all night across from her at the restaurant hoping that she changes her mind and stays at my place but she doesn’t. She’s hell-bent on wanting to sleep at her own house tonight because she says she wants to start boxing up her belongings. We make out in front of her door for far too long before I say good night and walk away, hating to leave her in her shitty apartment.
It’s the first time we’ve spent the entire day together and the first time since we began this arrangement that we’ve been together where we haven’t had sex. Funnily enough though, it was the best day I’ve had in a very very long time.
This nonrelationship is getting a little skewed.
Chapter 8
Lola
It’s Thursday night, usually one of our busiest nights, but for some reason it’s not too crazy today at Duality. I’m working at the upstairs bar and I just finished serving some tourists piña coladas. They look fascinated by the nudity around them, pointing and gawking at the fire breathers on the stage. I’m still in awe myself, if I’m being honest.
Fox pulls out a chair and casually sits in front of me, which is unusual. He takes a sip of my soda and then slides it back to me. He does this a lot, I’ve noticed. He doesn’t buy soda at his house, but I’ve stocked his fridge with Coke and he takes gulps from my cup when I’m drinking it, even though he says he hates soda because it’s so unhealthy. Or he says he doesn’t like PB&J’s but he takes bites of mine all the time. It doesn’t bother me, though. Just like I know it doesn’t bother him that I use his manly soap because it’s awesome and smells like him. Or when I steal his favorite potato chips and eat them on his impeccable couch while reading from my Kindle.
The familiarity between us might be weird but it doesn’t feel weird.
And right now, he’s just hanging out at the bar. He never just hangs out. His tie is a little crooked, so I straighten it for him, not caring that another bartender, Jane, is at the other end of the bar. The staff has seen us walking in together over the past month or so. I’m sure the rumors are rampant but it’s not like I can hear them so I brush them off.
He smiles at me. As I study him, I wonder what he’s up to. His beard is longer than it normally is and his hair isn’t so perfect. I’ve noticed that he hasn’t been taking so long to get ready these days. I wonder why that is. But I don’t question it since it’s a relief to get to work on time without having to be on pins and needles all the way there.
He’s been really working on his sign language and doesn’t have to finger spell everything anymore but he never signs at work since he knows how secretive I am about that. I’m terrified about getting fired, especially since I have to make one more payment to meet my goal.
“While you were at work today and I was practicing my sign language on YouTube, I came across this ad,” he says, sliding a bunch of papers over to me. My brows furrow. “Have you heard of cochlear implants? I did a bunch of research on it. It’ll fix all your problems. Make you good as new.”
His words are like a slap in the face. It’s the first time I’ve felt less than with Fox. It takes me a moment to process it. I look down at the papers I’m holding in my hand—a bunch of brochures and printouts about the surgery. My smile fades, and I’m feeling so hu
rt that I can’t even begin to comment. I’m also trying not to show my feelings since it was sweet of him to do this research, and I know he’s just trying to help.
From the corner of my eye I see Jane walking toward us and I don’t want her to overhear this conversation. I smile at him, fold the papers, and stuff them in my purse below the bar. He reaches for my arm and squeezes gently. “Lola?”
I look over at Jane who is now definitely in hearing distance. He gets the message and winks. “Later, then.”
I nod and smile, then I wave at Jane and return to my work, needing to stifle the hurt I feel.
Fix all your problems.
Throughout the night, those words keep replaying in my mind. He doesn’t want me to take the bus home as if I’m incapable of taking care of myself. He doesn’t think I can walk the dogs on my own. There are just a lot of little things he tries to do because I’m broken and he needs to help me, to “fix” me. Fix all your problems.
I’m trying to talk myself out of being upset. He means well. That’s the only thing that keeps me from crying, something I never do. I’m strong. I’ve been through a lot and a guy throwing some careless words at me isn’t going to break me. This was just sex. I’m leaving soon. What do I care what he thinks anyway, right?
I close my eyes and inhale deeply as the last conversation with Gus runs through my mind.
“Lola, I can’t handle this. You need too much help.” Gus writes on a piece of paper since I still don’t know how to read lips or sign.
“Please don’t leave me, Gus. I don’t know how to live in a world where everything is silent.”
He puts a finger on his mouth hushing me and looks around embarrassed at how loudly I’m speaking. “Sorry, sorry,” I whisper, and tears are running down my face.
“You need to learn sign language and join that support group and the doctors say you’re depressed,” he writes. “That’s a lot, Lola.”
Of course I’m depressed. I’m deaf and now alone, it seems.
“I just lost my hearing,” I say, sobbing. “I can’t lose you too. How will I even know what the doctors are telling me? Gus, please…”
“I’m sorry, Lola. Maybe after you’ve had that surgery the doctor explained?” And he hands me the brochure and the information. “Call me and we’ll talk once everything settles down and you’re all fixed up. I just can’t deal with all this now. I’m only twenty.”
He leans over and kisses my forehead and I can tell by the way his lips move that he says, “Goodbye, Lola.” He turns and walks out of the hospital leaving me all alone. I grab the piece of paper and the brochures, crumple them up, and throw them across the room.
Fox
I don’t know how to read Lola. Even after the incredible time we’ve had together she’s still an enigma to me. I have no idea what she’s thinking and I don’t think it has anything to do with her hearing. She doesn’t say half of what she wants to say most of the time, and tonight…I know she wants to say something. When I’ve walked by her, I’ve caught her looking off into space a few times. I’ve also caught her with her lips downturned. She’s not like the rest of the bartenders who are loud and flirt incessantly, but she does smile. She smiles a lot and often, and customers like her. Tonight, she’s going through the motions without any emotions and it’s scaring the shit out of me.
I’m thinking she didn’t like my research but I can’t even begin to understand why. Doesn’t she want to hear again? Of course she does! Who would say no to having something wrong with them fixed? I’ve been researching things to help her, and when I found a link to a procedure that could make her hear again, I was excited to share it with her, but she didn’t seem pleased. Then again, she’s so secretive about her hearing, which I still think is ridiculous, and there were people around, so maybe she was quiet in order not to draw attention. Or maybe I pissed her off.
Damn it.
I’m sitting in my office, my feet on the desk, watching the camera feed and waiting for the night to end, when the door swings open and a pissed-off Lola storms in, shutting the door behind her.
“I already had the surgery, Fox,” she bursts out as if we’re already mid-conversation. “I had it done about a year after I lost my hearing. It cost me a small fortune; insurance didn’t pay all of it. But I did it. It worked for a bit, and even though the noise came in a little robotic and it took some time to get used to it, it worked. But then it got infected and I had to have it removed. It was more devastating than the first time I lost my hearing. It was my last hope and it was gone and to make it worse, one of the reasons that people are hesitant to get the implant is because any little residual hearing is destroyed. I had a little hearing before that, but after the implant was removed, it was completely gone. I have what’s called profound hearing loss. I hear almost nothing.”
Wow. Okay. I take a moment to process this. I take a breath, stand up, and walk around my desk to stand by her. “But it’s been years. Can’t you have another one implanted or something?”
She reaches for me and takes my hands in hers. I’m not sure if she’s trying to throttle me or be patient. Maybe both. “I’m not going through that again. This is it, Fox. This is me. I don’t need to be ‘fixed.’ I understand why you’d think I’m broken but I’m not broken, and I appreciate that you try to help, but don’t. Please. This is all of me. We have a few weeks left, let’s have fun or let’s end it now, but either way, I don’t want or need you to try to fix me.”
“That’s not what I meant.”
“Yes, it was.” She lets go of my hands and releases a puff of breath. “It’s sweet of you, but it’s not happening. I will never hear again. I’m okay with it. The question is: Are you? When I went deaf I was dating a guy and he dumped me when things got too hard. It broke my heart. I’m not going through that again. I like my life now just like you like yours. Why are you trying to complicate things?”
She likes her life? How is that even possible? She is missing one of her five senses, for fuck’s sake! And do I like my life? I have to stop and think about that because of all the things she is saying that’s what actually impacts me most. I’m not sure if I can sit here and say I like my life. I mean, I’m content but I don’t love it. I do realize, however, that this last month, waking up with Lola, who doesn’t care whether I’m in a suit or if I shaved or if my suit is silk or cotton, has been the most at peace I’ve felt in a long time. Except when my mind wanders to her looming departure. Admittedly, the way it doesn’t seem to faze her is hurtful in a way that I didn’t expect. For me, it’s like a living, breathing thing that seems to always be around. A ticking time bomb telling us it’s almost over.
“You’re taking it the wrong way,” I protest, sounding defensive even to my own ears. “Don’t you want to be able to hear?”
“Of course I do,” she blurts out, sounding a little loud and distorted. It’s the first time I’ve heard her sound this way and I feel like a world-class asshole. But at the same time I genuinely don’t understand why she doesn’t make an effort. She could possibly hear again. Doesn’t she want to?
“Then why don’t you try it again?”
“I don’t want to! I don’t want to go through that again. I may not even be a candidate anymore. I’d rather spend the money I’ve been saving to do what I intended to do, not risk it for something I don’t need.”
“You don’t need? How can you not need to hear?”
Lola
Slap number two.
Judging by the way he’s leaning forward on his desk and the way his mouth is moving I can tell he’s speaking loudly and he’s agitated. Not quite yelling but he’s clearly upset. I’m upset too. He doesn’t get it.
“I have gone through the last seven years without any major problems. I have a job and I’m a contributing member of society. I don’t need this. We agreed to se
x. This.” I point to him. “This is not what I asked for. This isn’t what we discussed. This is not just sex.”
He looks at me for too long. Then he shakes his head, reaches for his keys, and steps around me.
“You’re leaving?” I ask incredulously.
“I…yeah, I’m leaving. We only have an hour and it’s dead tonight.” He turns around, effectively ending the conversation since I can’t see his lips. He opens the door and closes it behind him. I’m so shocked, hurt, and honestly…so mad that I kick it. Yeah, I know, I’m being petulant, but I’m so livid right now.
The last thing I expected would happen when we began this little arrangement was to be sitting in the boss’s office feeling like I did seven years ago when Gus broke up with me.
Actually, if I’m being honest, feeling worse.
Damn it…why do I have to like Fox so much?
I go back to the bar and finish my shift getting angrier by the minute. First, he insults me and then he leaves me? Yeah, been there, done that, and I’m not going to let any man have that kind of control over my emotions again. This is why I don’t need him walking the fucking dogs for me, or giving me rides to work, or getting me used to comfy sheets and a king-size bed. I was fine doing everything on my own and living a simple life.
Fuck him.
I don’t need to be fixed.
Fox
Maybe I shouldn’t have left but she made it clear, over and over again, that I’m nothing but a temporary fuck. There’s so much a man can take. We’ve had this conversation too many times already and I’m done with it. I need to get my emotions under control before I see her again because telling her that I feel more for her than she does for me is just plain stupid. There’s no point to it. She’s leaving and that’s all there is to it. From whatever the hell I’m feeling for this girl who has me all tied up in knots, to the comment that she made about being happy with her life, to the fact that I just can’t seem to understand how she won’t even consider the surgery, I’ve gone through an entire gamut of emotions. But most of all, I find myself questioning my own happiness.
Kiss Me Back Page 13