""Hi,"" she said.
""Need a ride?""
""It's okay,"" she said. ""The bus is just late. It's always late, but not this late.""
""Sometimes they break down,"" I said. ""It's no problem. I'll give you a ride.""
""Okay,"" she said.
She told me where she lived, five miles from where I lived. We drove for a while and I asked if she wanted to go to a bar and get a nightcap.
""Love to,"" she said, ""but I can't go into a bar.""
""A.A.?""
""Under age.""
""How old?""
""Nineteen.""
""How long have you been working at…—""
""Enough with the questions. I could still go for a beer.""
I stopped off at a liquor store, bought a six-pack, and parked somewhere away from the main street, where a cop wouldn't get curious.
We drank and chatted and it was nice.
""Being a psychic is better than being a whore on the phone,"" Amber said. ""'Oh, baby, how big are you? You know how I like it biiiiig,'"" she said in a silly and sexy porno movie voice.
""Ever get any women calling wanting a lesbian thing?"" I asked.
""You know what I have to do on the phone a lot?""
""What?""
""The fake orgasm."" She let out a loud moan. ""Ohhhhhhhh, baaaabbbeeeee!"" and screamed out an orgasm. ""What do you think?""
""Wow,"" I said.
""Know what I think?"" she said.
""No,"" I said.
""I think we should go to your place where you can give me a real orgasm.""
""Are you sure?"" I asked.
She laughed at that. ""I know what I want,"" she said.
VII.
Amber was wearing a tiny bikini and she looked very sexy, I must say. I wasn't the only one who noticed. Every man at the beach eyed her, even the two boys who were play-fighting and kept saying, ""I'm gonna kill you, fucker, I'm gonna kill you dead like a slant-eyed nip!"" I didn't mind. I liked watching them watching her. I liked watching her. She kept waving at me. She kept saying, ""Come on in the water, Paul!"" I shook my head. She splashed in the ocean, only going knee-deep, and she waved and said, ""Come on, baby!""
Twice, a man moved near her, to join her in the water, and she moved away from him and yelled at me, ""Come on, baby, before I get raped or something!""
It was enough that I was sitting there on the beach in my swim trunks and my pale skin and slight beer gut, but to get up and draw attention to myself? My skinny legs?
I had made this comment when Amber suggested we drive out to the beach.
She said, ""Oh sugar you look just fine, you look better than most men and so what.""
So what. I finally went into the water. I brought the flask with me. The flask was filled with Teacher's. Amber was happy that I had the flask.
""I love the ocean!"" she said. ""All this water.""
""You remind me of a peacock,"" I said.
""A what?""
""Strutting your stuff.""
""Hey,"" she said, wiggling her behind, ""I have it. I'm proud of it. Why not flaunt it?""
True. I drank from the flask.
""And it's all yours,"" she said, grabbing me between the legs. ""You should feel lucky.""
""I know I'm lucky,"" I told her, and this was true.
I knew that later I would be sunburned and hungover and in pain..
In the car, Amber was a little drunk and she wanted to fool around. She took her bikini top off and let me play with and suck on her tiny breasts. A man my age shouldn't be with a girl so young but I figured, what the hell. She liked me, right?
I said, ""This is crazy, people will see us.""
""I'm crazy, baby,"" she said, ""crazy about you, sugar.""
My cock began to rise inside the swimming trunks. She saw this and said, ""Let me say hello to my little friend."" She leaned toward my crotch and grabbed me. ""Not so little anymore, are we?""
We were about to do it in the back seat like we were both fifteen and skipping school for the day. Then she stopped.
She started to cry.
""Amber,"" I said, ""What is it? What's wrong?""
""I can't do this to you,"" she said, crying even more. ""I'm a terrible person, Paul. I feel just awful about this and that.""
""I don't understand.""
""I planned to use you,"" she said. ""But you're so sweet. You're such a nice guy. You're about the best guy I've ever known and most guys are just shit and I can't do this to you.""
""What?"" I said. ""What?""
She sat up.
""I'm pregnant,"" she said.
I said, ""What?"" again because we'd only had sex twice in the past week.
""Not yours, silly, but I was going to say it was yours,"" she said. ""The real father, that bastard, when I told him, he said, 'Goddamn you.' And that was the last I heard from him. I'm five weeks, Paul. I was going to fuck you for a few weeks and tell you that it was yours so you would either help me pay for an abortion or marry me and start a family.""
I said, ""Oh.""
She said, ""I'm a bad person.""
I said, ""Not really.""
She said, ""Do you hate me?""
I said, ""I like you a lot.""
Then we had sex.
Fifteen minutes later, she said, ""I don't know what to do.""
VIII.
She was nervous at the clinic. She held my hand.
""I'm scared,"" she said.
""I'm here,"" I said.
""Thank you for coming with me.""
***
Amber got into bed and went to sleep. In the middle of the night, she woke me up. She was crying. She cried until morning.
***
She walked away from me.
I watched her until she was gone.
She didn't show up for work the next day.
She never returned.
IX.
Two nice things happened to me in the same month.: Aa literary journal in San Francisco published a one-act play of mine; I had mailed it out on a whim and the editor wrote back and said she loved my little piece of dramatic art and would print it in the next issue. Another small journal out of Nevada published three of my poems back to back.
Copies of both magazines arrived the same week. They looked and smelled nice printed on thick, quality paper. I mailed one of each to Karin because I thought she would be interested; I wanted to rub it in her face.
See how well I am getting along without you, is what I wanted to write in a note. Instead the note said: Hope you enjoy!
She called. Karin called.
She said, ""Why did you send me this stuff?""
I said, ""Because…why not.""
""To make me feel bad?""
""No.""
""It's over,"" she said, ""I'm over you.""
""Yeah,"" I said. What else could I say?
""I hate you,"" she said, and hung up.
What else could she say? I didn't blame her.
Fifteen minutes later she called back and said, ""Sorry, I'm sorry, I didn't mean that, I didn't mean to be mean. I don't hate you.""
""I know.""
""You don't know anything. Do you know that I actually miss you? Tell me, do you know that my heart is broken?""
""No,"" I said.
""You don't know anything,"" she said.
We agreed to get together and catch up. We met at a bar near her place. We had a few beers and didn't talk about anything significant. She asked if I was seeing anyone and I said no. I didn't ask about the man with the house and money because it didn't appear that she was with him; —she wasn't living in his house and she was working eight hours a day as a clerk at a grocery store.
From the bar we walked back to her studio apartment. It felt like nothing bad had ever happened between us. I wanted to tell her to come back home so things would be okay again. I thought that would be a very good thing.
Her place was so small it made me feel two feet
tall.
She had beer in the fridge. This was different; she never drank beer at home. At bars and parties, sure, but it was always wine at home.
I could still taste the red wine from the night she left me. I mentioned this to her.
""Are you going to get melodramatic on me?""
I said, ""No.""
She said, ""Was this a mistake? I'm starting to think this is a mistake. I do miss you, I missed you, I wanted to see you, I wanted to see what you looked like and you look the same, maybe five pounds lighter. You smell the same. I have no idea what I'm doing. What am I doing? Do you know what's going on inside my heart? You don’t know. How could you know? My life is different now because of you. I won't say you ruined my life but I will say you changed it. But I know I changed yours. That's what happens in relationships;: we change each other. That's what is good about being two people, and that's what is bad.""
""I don't understand why you sent me the play and the poems. No, I do. To make me feel bad. Don't deny it. You wanted to go, 'ha ha.' You know what these things mean to me.""
""I know you're alone. I can tell. You don't have anyone in your life. I can see it in your eyes.: Yyou are love-starved. I lived with you, I should know. I can see it. You need to be touched, you need a blowjob, you need to fuck;, you need love like we all need love.""
She said, ""You're not getting anything from me, Mister, you're not getting any love because I don't have any love to give.""
She said, ""You want to know about me but I bet you can tell I'm alone, too. No, it didn't work out with that man with money and the house. I never thought it would. I knew all his promises were lies but I went with him anyway, I left you for him and now I'm still poor and working a shitty job and I bet you like that. I bet you like I quit school so I'll be a nobody, just like everyone else.""
I said, ""Karin.""
She said, ""Don't you 'Karin' me. What happened to 'that woman'? What was her name? The one you were fucking when we lived together? The married woman? Terrie? That's her name. What happened to her? You know what., I don't want to know. I don't care. I don’t give a shit. I don't want you here. I don't know why I asked you to come here.""
""Did you think I asked you over for sex? Did you? Just like a man to think that. I don't want to fuck you. I never want to fuck you again. I hope you do think I asked you over for that. I hope it hurts, I hope it breaks your fucking heart, you motherfucking fuck you.""
I said, ""Karin.""
""Fuck the 'Karin' bullshit and get out.""
What happened? We were getting along so well and she turned on me. I had never seen her act like that. .She was being an exaggerated version of her old self.
But I knew this was not the old Karin; this was a new Karin, a Karin with more loss and pain and sadness in her life than the Karin I used to know and love.
She said, ""Get out.""
""Look.""
She hit me. She took a swing and hit me. She hit me in the jaw and it went numb. I tasted blood.
""Get out!""
I grabbed her. I wanted to hit her too. Instead I hugged her and she hugged me back and we both began to cry. We struggled, or she did. Sshe wanted to get away. I wouldn't let go. She kicked me. We fell to the floor. We continued to hold each other. We kissed once or twice, our tears in each other's mouths; my blood in her mouth.
We were like that for a while and it felt like hell. It felt wrong.
She said, ""I need to move away. Move far away.""
She said, ""I think I'll move to Nevada.""
She said, ""That’s what I'll do: move to Nevada.""
I said, ""What's in Nevada?""
""It's somewhere else. It's where that magazine that published your poetry is from. Maybe they will publish me, if I moved there. Prostitution is legal there. I will move and become a whore and make a lot of money selling my pussy.""
She said, ""You need to go.""
I was about to say something and she grabbed my mouth, my lips, and said, ""All I want to hear you say is, 'Yes, ma'am.'"" She made my lips form the words.
She was serious.
""Get out, never come back;, don't look back, because I will be watching you leave, don't look back at my face, just walk away and let me go, okay?""
""Okay.""
""That's not what I wanted to hear.""
I said, ""Karin.""
She closed her eyes and said, ""You have to go or I will get violent again and I don't want that and you don't want that.""
I stood up and left and that was the end of that part of my life.
X.
It was going to be a cold winter.
It wasn't cold yet but it was getting there and I could feel it in the air, in the future;: it would three months of chilly scenes of winter and to make matters worse, I would be alone for the holidays.
I didn't want to be alone but there didn't seem to be anything to do about it because I was so that was the end of that.
I told myself: ‘Accept it, Paul Augustine. You can get through the winter and Christmas alone. You've made your way through worse, son.’
***
I started to drink more, as if I wasn't drinking enough. I couldn't sleep either. Drinking used to put me to sleep but now, when I drank more, I just stayed awake; I would drink until the sun came up and then take a shower and go to work drunk. No one seemed to notice.. No one cared. So I drank even more.
Most bars were warmer than my apartment with it's thin, hardwood floors. I found myself drinking out more often, spending more money than I had.
One night, at a certain bar, I thought I saw someone I knew.
I thought it was Jeff. I imagined him telling me he went off on a grand adventure, full of heroic Campbellian motifs and themes, riddled with beautiful women and kinky sex. It wasn't Jeff. It was my former boss, Boyd Flemming. He spotted me first.
""Look what the cat dragged in,"" he said. He picked up his beer and sat next to me.
I didn't have a good comeback for that.
He shook my hand. He seemed to be glad to see me.
""How's it been?"" he said.
""So-so,"" I said.
""The company was closed down by the Feds,"" he said, ""I barely got out in time. Something about telephone fraud, interstate laws, blah blah. It was the sex lines they wanted, not the psychic. But this biz comes and goes like the clap. I'm in a better biz now. You ever heard of time shares?""
""No.""
""It's all the rage.""
""Good money?""
""Getting there.""
""That sounds keen,"" I said. I wanted to go but he offered to buy me a drink and I can never turn down free booze. Which meant I had to listen to him.
That was okay, I was getting better at blocking people out. I nodded my head and smiled and nodded my head and pretended like I was listening, and then I became quite interested and listened; he mentioned Karin's name.
He said, ""By the way, I knew you had a thing going with that young thing. Ashley was it? No, Audrey.""
""Amber.""
""Amber, that's right,"" he said, ""I mean, did you think you were hiding anything from me? I always know what goes on. Frankly, I was happy for you. I was proud of you, getting a hot young piece of ass like that. I've gotten laid from that job. You're around women all the time, working that close. Things happen. Right? Right. So I've had my share, yes sir, I've had my fill, and I've had my regrets. Is regret the right word? There are women who worked there I wished I had gotten into the sack, I wish I had made a move on.""
He listed a few names I didn’t know and then he said, ""and Karin.""
""Karin?""
""Did you know her?""
I asked, ""Karin who?""
""I don't think she was there when you were there,"" he said. He described her and he was talking about my Karin.
""She had a boyfriend or husband, I forget,"" Flemming said, ""I know she was taken, but she was a looker, she had beautiful big sauuacer eyes and nice hair and a go
od ass. I wanted to make a move on her the day I overheard her talking to another girl in the break room about how she had started an affair with some man she met on her other job and how this man had money and a good job unlike her husband or boyfriend. 'He's such a bum,' I remember her saying, 'I am thinking of leaving him for this other man even if I know this other man only wants sex from me.' So I thought, damn, if the hot bitch is unhappy at home and looking for outside dick to put a smile on her face, I can give her what she needs. And then a week later she quit.""
He talked about other women he wished he had fucked and some he did fuck and kept patting me on the back and telling me I did a good job getting into Amber's pants.
We left the bar together.
""Damn it's cold,"" he said.
""Yeah,"" I said.
""That Karin, now that I think about her,"" he said, ""she was nothing but a horny slut and I should have nailed her ass to the door.""
I turned to him and kicked him in the balls. He fell to the ground. I kicked him in the face and knocked out his teeth.
""I loved her, asshole.""
I walked away, leaving him bleeding on the icy ground.
***
I wish.
What I just wrote is a lie.
He said that, he said what he said about the woman I once loved, still loved, who moved to Nevada and didn’t talk to me anymore.
He said that. I did nothing and said nothing.
""Well,"" he said, ""have a good holiday.""
""You too,"" I said.
We shook hands and I went home.
XI.
I never thought much about sex during the holidays; it was Christmas Eve and Olivia was supposed to come by after her show; it was closing night of a play she was in and we were going to meet for a few drinks and talk about our lives. I hadn't seen her in two years. She had acted in a play I had written. There was something between us once, the back and forth, casual glances; brief discussions of getting together for a date, then silence, then nothing.
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