Oh my God! Trollop! Trollop! Trollop! Oh who am I kidding; I am plain and simply a trashy whore right now, ready to jump from one man to the next.
Slut! My inner bitch feels the need to chime in once again.
I clear my throat, the throat of a newly anointed slut, and try for normal conversation.
“So . . . Alex,” I say after reading it off the nametag pinned to his shirt. “Are you almost done for the night?” I think that may have come out a bit raspy. Even to my own ears, I sounded a little seductive. I’m not sure if I’m upset by that. Did I mention I’m a slut now?
“Yeah, actually, I just have to put the chairs up on the tables and lock up, then I’m outta here. What are you up to tonight?”
What am I up to tonight? I don’t know any more, except that I don’t want to go home. I don’t want to face reality, my reality. I shrug while helping him put the chairs on the tables. As we finish the last table, he turns to me and asks if I’d like a latte—on the house? I nod enthusiastically, not even trying to hide it. His face lights up as he turns to go behind the counter, shaking his head in amusement the whole way.
I lean over the short counter where customers normally pay and watch as he works. He seems so comfortable in his body, moving effortlessly with everything he does. The room fills with the aroma of coffee, drowning out any possible cologne he might be wearing, making him smell like the sexiest man alive.
I know he caught me staring, but he doesn’t say anything about it; doesn’t tease me, doesn’t change how he’s moving in an attempt to show off. He continues with his task, and when he hands the cup to me, I bring it to my lips, blowing on the steam before sipping the deliciousness. Mmmm, it’s almost orgasmic, which I embarrassingly confess aloud. I nearly choke on my coffee when I realize that, in fact, I did say that aloud. I play it smooth, though, completely pretending I never said it. Can’t get much more mature than that.
He’s smirking at the comment, but passes over this prime opportunity to embarrass me, instead asking if I want to sit down and help him eat one of the day-old pastries he was going to take home. I inform him that the caloric intake from this vanilla latte is enough for one day without adding that. I point to a delicious looking chocolate muffin, peeling my eyes away before I lose my resolve.
“It’s a skinny latte, and it’s not like you need to watch your weight. You’re gorgeous. You shouldn’t deprive yourself of the joys in life like yummy chocolate muffins,” he says while waving the muffin under my nose.
“Fine,” I huff. “Give me a bite, but I swear, when I gain twenty pounds from this one bite, I’ll be banging at your door reminding you of this conversation.”
“I think I’ll take my chances,” he begins in a normal voice that drops an octave as I lean in to take a bite of the muffin while it’s still in his hand.
I wipe the corner of my mouth and moan in satisfaction as the sweetness combusts in my mouth, rolling my eyes shut, enjoying the moment, and enjoying it all the more when I open my eyes to see him heatedly staring at me. I don’t turn away. I don’t look down nor hide in shame. I take the muffin out of his weak grasp, break off a piece from the top, and place it near his lips, savoring the moment when he surrounds my fingers with his warm mouth, sucking the chocolate clean from my fingers with his tongue. Our breaths have both grown ragged, but we seem to be in limbo as to what to do next. A line has been crossed, but which one? How many more are we willing to cross?
With more willpower than I presently have, he stands, gently pulling me up with my hand in his, and walks us into the back of the café, behind the prep counter and into the storeroom. He asks me to wait a minute, not to leave, as if I would, telling me he’ll be right back. I look around the room while he’s gone, losing some of that initial desire seeing that this is just a storeroom, reminding me what I’m doing, or thinking about doing anyway, and who I’m doing this with. I don’t even know him. What am I thinking? Just as panic has replaced desire, he’s back. The room feels like a sauna now that he’s in front of me with gorgeous eyes that have morphed into a deep indigo blue.
I can’t take my eyes off him, but beyond that, I have no idea what to do next. I feel jumbled up inside. Am I supposed to do something, say something? Do I wait for him to? The now tired warning that I should leave is back, forefront in my brain, but I don’t want to listen to it anymore. I’m sick of running. For once, I’m going to take command of my life, even if it’s in a completely reckless way.
I move toward him with more confidence than I think I’ve ever had. It’s amazing how freeing it is to take charge of my fate. Standing in front of him, I pull his head down with my hands on the back of his neck and crash our lips into one another. There are no pretenses here. Clearly neither of us wants this to be any more than what it is; two people spending one night together, escaping life for a little while. Nothing wrong with that . . . right?
No! You ass! The familiar shrill voice in my head says to me. She’s always nagging me. I need to sedate her.
Shut up and let me have one night! I silently scream at her. I ignore her after that.
The kiss deepens, hands take over control, and soon clothes are on the floor. A condom is on and a welcomed pain replaces coherent thought. He stills, looking slightly mortified, as if this is my first time and he’s taking my virginity on a storeroom floor. I hold him close when he tries to pull away, mumbling that it’s just been awhile, but not to stop.
Thank all that’s holy! He doesn’t stop.
Soon our bodies are glistening with sweat from the forcefulness of our movements. We’re both falling over the edge, me screaming out something incoherent and him holding back a moan by biting into the flesh on my shoulder, causing even more pleasure within me, making my scream extend into a satisfied moan of my own.
Oh, wow! Just wow!
Pulling out and rolling onto his back, Alex and I lie panting. That was a workout if I ever had one. I should have indulged more in that muffin, although I think I just indulged plenty in Alex.
Oh, what have I done? Throwing my arm over my eyes, trying to keep this soon to be awkward situation from happening, I do everything I can to stay calm. I would center my chi if I knew what that even meant. Isn’t that one of those heads that grows grass? Or is that chia? Oh, who cares, you nitwit!
“Did I hurt you?” Alex breaks the quiet with the one question I was hoping he wouldn’t ask. I don’t want to get into anything personal with him about my past, but I guess I owe him something after how personal we just were with each other.
“You didn’t. I’m sorry if it bothered you. It really has been a while, so I was a little . . . tight, I guess.” I wince at having to say that, but after what we just did, I think I should try acting like an adult.
“It didn’t bother me at all. I’m just checking. I don’t want you thinking I’m an ass who doesn’t care about you or how you feel.”
His words are surprisingly sweet, which is exactly what I don’t need right now. I don’t want this to be sweet. I don’t want this to be anything. I just wanted one night of not caring, then for life to go on as it had before.
I sit up, gathering the clothes that are strewn about around me, separating his from mine, and start dressing. He doesn’t move, seeming lost in thought while staring at the ceiling, perfectly comfortable being completely exposed to me. I hope this isn’t a sign of this being a normal occurrence for him—not that I could judge if it were.
I suppose I should check on him, huh? I’m such a bitch. I just want to leave. I thought he would want that, too. He’s ruining this by being a nice guy. Can’t he be like every other guy, all too willing to get what they want and bail?
“Are you okay?”
His head turns slowly, facing me, letting me in on the sad look on his face. Would it be bad to say I wish he would look away?
“This never happened, right?” There’s as much sadness in his voice as there is on his face, and it’s damn near killing me.
Playing dum
b is my only option right now. I don’t want to hurt him, but it looks like I’m going to whether I want to or not. “I don’t know how this could not have happened, and I don’t regret it, if that’s what you’re asking.”
I hear the irritation in his voice when he mumbles something about me knowing that’s not what he meant. I don’t want him to hate me. I did just use him though so I suppose I owe him something.
Placing my hand gently on his forearm, I feel his arm twitch from the contact, as if I’m hurting him; I won’t lie, that stings a little, but I continue. “This did happen. I don’t regret it, but I can’t do anything serious right now if that is where you thought this was going. I’m sorry if I hurt you, I never meant to, I swear.”
The room is still. It’s quiet, sterile, and the distant ticking of a clock is beginning to drive me mad, but I wait with him. I want to run, believe me I do, but I wait. We wait. Finally, he nods, if it’s to what I said or some inner conversation he’s been having, I suppose I’ll never know. I follow his lead, coming to stand next to him when he’s dressed and we’re both putting our shoes back on.
“Can I ask you for one thing?”
He startles me with his words after being quiet for so long. “Sure . . .” I answer cautiously.
“It’s nothing bad,” he says with a flirtatious smile and a voice to match. This is much better than the sad, despairing, voice he’d been using. “Just one more kiss? Not rushed. Not desperate. And for no other reason than that you want to kiss me as much as I’ve wanted to kiss you for so long.”
His confession confuses me. I had no idea he ever felt anything for me. Why didn’t he ever say anything? I don’t ask him, though. Honestly, I just don’t want to know. I can’t handle knowing I may have unintentionally hurt him. I agree and wait. I’m starting to think this is all just a joke, that he isn’t going to kiss me and had never intended to, just as his lips touch mine. They’re soft, the kiss gentle, so unlike how it had been before. I get lost in the sensations, taking in everything he’s doing and all the feelings being elicited by him.
I close my eyes and feel the moment, feel his fingers brush through my hair, his hand stroking softly down my cheek, feel his breath on my lips, on my racing pulse right beneath my ear.
I’ve been rushing through my life for so long, always waiting for the next catastrophe, I haven’t taken any time to notice what’s in front of me. I’ve been living in misery, counting each day as a curse, another day of many I’ll have to endure, when maybe I’ve been missing something this whole time, something more than all of this, more than existing in a life I’m too afraid even to breathe in. Maybe it’s okay to breathe, to live.
Like a dream I don’t want to wake from and a nightmare I’d give anything to wake from, I’m caught somewhere between the two. I betrayed everyone. I didn’t mean to do it, but I did.
I put my hands on Alex’s chest and shove him away from me. I can’t breathe, or maybe I’m breathing too much. Oh my God, I’m breathing too much! Why am I taking these deep breaths? Why can’t I stop? I’m not supposed to be breathing like this. Shallow breaths, that was the agreement I made when I accepted this life sentence.
I let myself get wrapped up in something amazing, something that made me feel. Made me feel everything. I’m a horrible, horrible person. I’ve hurt everyone I love yet again, and now I just added an innocent person into the mix.
Alex is staring at me, a mix of concern, sympathy, fear, and . . . no, not that. Please not that. My stomach is moving in ways I’m sure are unhealthy, but that look, that look I’ve seen so often, that look I saw in Kyle . . . pity. That along with sympathy and fear make my list of emotions that should be blacklisted from the realm of emotions out there. I truly despise them all.
I take a breath, shallow this time, straighten my shirt and my hair in a nervous attempt to keep my hands busy, settling my hands around my arms in an effort to keep them still. Finding comfort in this, I decide to leave them there. My nerves are rattled, my heartbeat erratic, and my head pounding, like, like that day. I don’t want to think about that day. I don’t want to think at all anymore. I just want to go home.
“Alex, I’m sorry, but I need to leave. I’m so sorry for leaving like this.” I stumble over my own feet in my hurry to get to the door, almost face planting into the linoleum floor; the linoleum floor I just had sex on with a complete stranger. I pause, taking in this mental observation while it’s fresh in my mind. I just slept with a total stranger I hadn’t even talked to outside of ordering my coffee. I don’t even know his last name, and all this less than an hour after I was about to do the same thing with another person entirely.
After all this time, this is how I choose to go about it? Three years since I’ve been with anyone and I sleep with a stranger? What’s wrong with me? Where’s the Jess I know, the Jess everyone knows? More important, which Jess is leaving here tonight? Who am I now? Can I go back to being the girl I was before tonight happened? Will I ever be able to go back? I want to go back. I want to forget all of this.
I didn’t think it would ever happen that I would hate myself more than I already did. I was wrong. I’ve discovered a completely new plane of existence that mocks the idea of hate, which mocks the idea that anyone could ever be as blind as to think hate is where it ends. I’m beyond hating myself and beyond being hated. I’m no one anymore.
I run. I’ll leave before I hurt him anymore than I already have, and although I deserve the pain, I can’t handle hurting any more than I already do.
I’m pulling at the front doors, but they’re pulling right back. Why can’t I open them? Warm skin brushes against me from behind as Alex reaches his arm around me to unlatch the lock. He’s so near, near enough I could lean my head back and be resting safely against his chest, but I can’t. I have to leave. It’s for the best.
I feel him move away from me. Before I crack and turn around to see him, I run through the doors as tears start running down my cheeks. Sobs are ripping through my throat, the pain welcomed. I deserve this pain. I can hardly see out of my eyes, but that doesn’t stop me from running. I don’t know where I’m running to, but I run anyway.
The cool, dew covered grass is a welcomed relief to my heated body when I crash down onto the earth. I think I knew this is where I was coming. I haven’t been here in so long, but nothing has changed, nothing ever changes here.
I crawl on my hands and knees, the tears still coming, collapsing onto the cold, smooth, stone.
Rogan Eli Morgan
February 8 1995- October 6 2011
The love and memories you left behind will keep
you alive forever in our hearts
Baby, I’m so sorry, I say through the torrent of tears. I never meant to hurt you. I never meant to be the person I’ve become. I’ve tried so hard to be the girl you knew, but I’ve changed, and I don’t like who I’ve become. You wouldn’t like who I’ve become. I miss you so much. I wish you were here with me. I don’t know what I’m doing. I don’t know where to go from here or who I should trust. You were the only one I ever trusted and you’re gone. You’re gone and I’m here. This shouldn’t be like this. I should be dead, not you. Oh God, not you! I love you! I love you! Can you hear me? I love you! Come back. Please come back!
There’s no answer. There never is.
Chapter Six
Present day . . .
There’s so much noise. Why is there so much noise so late in the night? Are those birds chirping? I try to move, but I’m frozen stiff, partly from the position I’m in, but also because I really am freezing. My clothes are damp. My skin is damp, and it’s so cold. Why is it so cold?
It hits me where I am. I must have fallen asleep here last night. It’s not an easy task, but I pry my frozen face free from Rogan’s headstone. This is as close as I’ll ever be to him again.
I can’t go there right now. I have to go home. I have to pull myself together, but I miss him. I miss him so bad. It hurts so badly. Why did I come here la
st night? Did I really deserve this as my punishment for my actions yesterday? I guess the answer is obvious. Why else would I be here if didn’t?
I stand, knees shaking, threatening to bend from the weight. Propping myself against a nearby tree, I wait for my body to cooperate with normal motion.
I don’t run home, as I had run to Rogan’s grave last night, I’m too exhausted for that. I have no clue what time it is, and I don’t care until I realize that if no one is home, I’ll have no way to get into the house. Upon further review of the bright, clear sky above me, I’m going to say it’s late morning, meaning I’m going to be locked out for the rest of the day. All the neighbors work, so there goes any help there. I’ll just wait. I’m so sleepy, maybe I’ll just take a nap on the porch swing. My body is humming with relief at that thought, but the music stops when I reach the end of my drive and see a dark blue sedan parked in the driveway. I know that car.
Damn it!
The door is unlocked when I turn it, but that doesn’t provide much relief; this isn’t going to be pleasant.
“Jess?” a tired, worried voice shoots through the air.
“Yeah, mom, it’s me.” I don’t have it in me to apologize for making her worry.
“Jess, where the hell have you been?”
“I’m fine, mom, don’t worry, okay?”
“Okay? Okay! Do you have any idea how scared I’ve been wondering where you were or what happened to you?”
A voice of reason chimes in. “Beth, she’s here now, and she’s fine, okay?” Bruce says emotionlessly.
I’m fine? I’m so far from fine, but I suppose no one needs to know that. My eyes are so heavy I can barely keep them open. I stumble to the sofa and drop onto it with a loud thud.
It’s dark when I open my eyes. I’m not sure what time it is, or what day it even is, but at least I’m home, warm, and safe. Maybe I’ve been here the whole time. Maybe this has all just been a bad dream. Sitting up, I throw a blanket I’m wrapped in off me, stretch my arms above my head, and rub my hands over swollen eyes. Maybe this hasn’t all been a bad dream after all.
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