by Rosemary Rey
“You don’t really know me. We haven’t spent any time together. We don’t know each other’s quirks and eccentricities, wants and needs, and do’s and don’ts. I can’t really categorize you as a friend. I can only say you’re an acquaintance. I don’t pretend I’m every man’s fantasy, but if you told me confidential company information expecting an easy fuck in return, you’re sorely mistaken.” I said calmly and evenly. He was shocked by my words and was literally taken aback, reclining in his chair. His cheeks flushed pink and he bit his lip and shook his head.
“It was never my intention. I’m not going to pretend I wouldn’t fuck you if I had a chance. You’re a gorgeous, vivacious woman, and up until this point you were very kind. I would never patronize you by putting the moves on you when you’re vulnerable. I like to think I’m a good man. I also like to think I’m a good friend which is all I was trying to be for you. I can tell you’re okay because the venom you just spouted at me doesn’t come from a wilting flower. Take care and good luck.” He stood up and walked out without ordering his coffee.
A gigantic lump formed in my throat. I felt a twinge of guilt for my approach. I tried really hard to be cautious with my words, eliciting a discussion, and not an argument. However, I needed him to be gone, distancing him from my present and future life. I lost my appetite for the other half of the sandwich, so I wrapped it up and tucked it in my tote. I slung the tote over my shoulder. I gripped the book in one hand and my latte in the other. I’d hoped to have a quiet little meal with a good book, but it was taken away from me. What I would’ve given to be transported to a South Pacific island in the moment, away from the drama, and men. I could’ve used some time on the sand and surf. I planned to call Carson and convince him I needed some time on the beach. He’d drive us to Rhode Island and go to one of the many beaches he grew up playing on.
I caught the train and then the bus, reading on each. My mind would wander to thoughts of Matt. Not wanting to bring attention to myself by crying, I would squash it by thinking about my plans for the future. The tears threatened to burst while I walked from the bus stop to my apartment, remembering our earlier encounter. The human brain and heart were traitorous; the duality of being angry with a person and also having passionate feelings were confusing. Foolishly, I believed I had a passionate and committed love with Matt. I was a good person, a loving daughter, and an attentive friend, but I felt cheated out of true love.
I arrived at my apartment. The bouquet was gone. I opened my mail box loaded with mail. I once joked with Matt I should just have my mail forwarded to his apartment because I spent so much time there, and he agreed, in earnest. I quickly perused the contents, thankfully lacking bills and filled with junk. Because I didn’t have the Inn anymore and Matt wouldn’t be purchasing incidentals for me, I needed a part time job.
When I entered my little studio, I had a mixed response to the tiny room. I was happy to be in my own space, but it felt incredibly small and lonely. Matt’s apartment was spacious with beautiful light streaming in. For the last few weeks, it was magical to look out and see all the activity on the water. You could see the heat rising in the brightly lit sky. I loved to see people on their roof tops and balconies reading, sunbathing, or entertaining guests. I felt at home in his apartment. I’d cook us dinner and we’d eat side by side on the counter, talking about our families, friends, or work. Best of all, he was there for me. I enjoyed my time with him, spending time as a loving couple. He’d always treated me as an equal partner in his home. Until the day I confronted him with the truth he’d been hiding, we’d never argued.
I put my frizzy hair up in a bun. The weather was fine when I left earlier, but by the afternoon, the humidity was oppressive. I threw my romper in the hamper and my shoes in the armoire. I took another long, tepid shower to wash away the grit and grime I usually felt after walking and commuting in Boston’s sultry heat. I slipped on a nightgown and fresh undies. The bed looked so inviting I dove in and grabbed the book from the nightstand.
I read and giggled through many passages. Jonah was right. It was a good book. I smiled at the thought, even in my heartbreak, I could still be found attractive by another man. I spent so many years oblivious to how I affected men. Sure, I’d get cat calls, but they were usually older men standing in corners or parks in the old neighborhood. I’d only recently noticed men try to pick me up, specifically the night Matt took me home and claimed me because he was jealous of Eric showing interest.
I refused to stay heart broken. It wasn’t the woman I chose to be when my marriage dissolved, and I didn’t want to suffer after Matt. It took me a long time to get to a place of independence. I decided to take Carson up on the dance date. I picked up the phone and dialed Carson’s cell.
“Hey, Perlz. How are you?”
“Hi, Carse. I have two favors to request.”
“Just two? You know I would give you the world.”
I giggled. “I know you would which is why I’m so pissed you’re gay.” We laughed. “I need to get out of this funk. I’m making moves to do so. I refuse to be a hermit this time around. The best revenge is living well, so I’d like for you to take me to the beach in Rhode Island, please.
“I’d love to take you. I know just the beach. You’d love it and I think my parents could let us use their membership to use the facilities.”
“Yay! Okay. You let me know when. The second request is something I want to do, but I’m not sure I want to do it so soon. I want to go out dancing. I feel like I need a boost in confidence by seeing if I garner any interest from men.”
“Honey, you know you’re beautiful!”
“The thing is Carson, I don’t know for sure. I’ve ignored the way men see me because I haven’t seen it in myself. When my husband no longer saw me as desirable, it really fucked with my self-esteem. But today, I went to the library and a really cute guy asked me for coffee. Of course I turned him down because I felt like I’d be betraying Matt. I need to get over it. I’m not going to have one night stands, take numbers or give my own, but I just need to feel good. Dancing the night away will help me.”
“I get it, love. When do you want to go?”
“I’m not sure, but I want you to hold me to it. It may not be for a while, but just encourage me when you plan on going with your friends.”
“Well, we’re going next week.”
“Which club?”
“Calliope, not owned by Pentagon, I know you'd be thinking about it. It’s owned by George and his partner, Vic. You remember them, don’t you?”
“You took me there a while ago. I loved their place, and would love to go. I felt really comfortable there.”
“Great. We’re going on Saturday night. It’s Gay night. You’ll stay here so you’ll pack an overnight.” He determined without my agreement.
“I will. I’m excited.” I heard a phone ringing. “Carson, is there a phone ringing where you are?”
“No. I only have the cell and we’re talking.”
“I think it’s the tablet ringing. It must mean he’s trying to reach me. I blocked him from calling and texting on my cell. I’m going to return the tablet. I’ll be sending it back.”
“Love, you don’t send it back. It was a gift.”
“Yeah, but I wouldn’t be surprised if the thing is bugged. Don’t forget, everything he did was for the benefit of Pentagon.”
“Perla, I’m sure ‘everything’ he did wasn’t for Pentagon’s benefit.” I blushed, and my toes curled with the thought of the things me and Matt did which Pentagon certainly didn’t ask him to do to acquire the Inn. “What are you doing tomorrow?”
“I don’t know. I’m trying not to spend it here crying in this tiny little hole, so I’m up for suggestions.”
“We’re going to a practice with the students from Lawrence. The dance students have been working with them last semester and we’re holding a camp this summer. We’re practicing for a fundraising event. I would love your input. Maybe you’ll be up to perf
orm?”
“Carson, I’m too old and stiff to perform, but I would love to help. Other than the fitness classes, I haven’t done anything with dance in such a long time, and you’re working with my people. Thanks for the invite.” I declared.
“Great. I’ll pick you up at nine in the morning. It will be all day, but we buy lunch for the kids and instructors. It’ll be in the school van with volunteer student instructors, so don’t expect luxurious accommodations. I’ll take you back home afterwards in the late afternoon.
“Call me when you’re close to my place, so I can wait downstairs. I’ll see you in the morning, love.”
“’Night!”
I was happy to have a plan to fill the next day. I looked at the tablet and saw he’d called. He also left a text message on the tablet. I deleted it before I read the entire message. I just caught the first few words, ‘Please forgive me. I love . . .’ I never considered having to block him from the tablet. Even though Carson admonished me for sending it back, I didn’t want to keep it. When Matt gave it to me, he stated he would take care of the charges, so I felt beholden. I proceeded to erase applications, usernames and passwords. I deleted the search history and cookies. I wasn’t tech savvy, but I figured the things I did do was enough to eliminate any use of my private information. I’d already felt like my life was being controlled by Pentagon and I wasn’t going to return the tablet with more nuggets to use against me.
I read my book until I got drowsy, and called it a night. I woke up in the middle of the night and felt beside me. The bed was narrower than I’d been used too and I only managed to have my arm fall off the edge of the mattress. My brain caught up to reality and was reminded I was no longer sleeping in Matt’s bed. He was no longer beside me. I turned over and hugged my pillow, willing myself to forget at least for the rest of the night about the emptiness I felt in my heart.
THREE
On Sunday, I got up early. I dressed comfortably in my workout clothes. When Carson arrived, he called my cell phone, and I bounded down the stairs to meet him. I was so busy with the thought of helping him with the dance program I didn’t allow more than a moment’s thought of Matt. I didn’t want my heartache to take away from the volunteer work. Carson was committed to teaching, and at one time, we discussed teaching together. I’d given up dancing at the Conservatory when I was unable to keep myself injury free, and I was tired of working so hard to keep my weight down. I figured a better life would be to work in business. Carson and I were dance partners for three semesters. When I decided to stop dancing, I went to Vegas for a few of months to make fast money for tuition. My transcripts wouldn’t transfer to the local community college without paying off the remainder of the Conservatory’s tuition. I made enough to pay off my final tuition bill and the first year of business school. Despite leaving the Conservatory, Carson and I tried to maintain our friendship. We reconnected when I separated from my ex-husband, and has been an amazing friend.
“Hi, Love.” Carson said when I entered the fifteen passenger van. “Everybody, meet Perla. Perla, meet everybody.” I looked in the back and said ‘hello’ with a smile to the student dancers, making eye contact with a few. “I told them everything about you. And I’ll have you know these are the best of the best students and committed to bringing the arts to the underserved. You’ll get to know them today.” He complimented.
They looked so young and eager. I was happy to see their cheery, enthusiastic faces, and tried to be positive for them. “I need this’, I told myself over and over again. I couldn’t stay home for one more second, but I couldn’t be at work. Duration was where everything started. Well, at least where I thought everything started. There were too many memories of Matt. Everywhere I looked, I’d be reminded of him. I hated feeling like I’d never escape him. I experienced the same after Ben. There were so many memories to overcome. I couldn’t even spend time with friends because we shared years of the same friends, same places, and love of the same things. My time with Matt was short, and we didn’t gather a lot of memories of people, places, and things, but he was everywhere. Pentagon made sure of it.
“Are you alright, Love?”
I smiled at him with sincerity, “I am. Now, that I’m with you. Thanks for letting me tag along.” I replied.
“Good. You’ll have a great time. These kids are amazing. They’re so eager, Perlz. You won’t believe how much they know and how malleable they are. They learn fast.”
“When’s the performance?”
“Six weeks. We meet with them weekly on Sundays. They practice with their High School teachers during the school days.”
“What’s the end goal for them? Will they have a chance to audition for the conservatory?”
“Yes. The performance is a fund raiser for scholarships. We’re still trying to get a major donor. We have some donations, but the biggest thing is to market and sell tickets to the performance. There’s also a dinner dance afterwards. We could use as much money as we can. Do you know of any wealthy potential donors?” He lifted his eyebrow and looked at me. Then he returned to look at the road. When he looked back at me a split second later, I mouthed, ‘F-U!” He smirked.
We drove in comfortable silence for about forty minutes. The drive took the same route as Matt’s mansion. Again, I was faced with his presence. I inhaled.
“Still okay?”
“Yeah. The exit sign back there leads toward Matt’s mansion.” Carson pursed his lips, listening to my response.
“I know this is hard for you, but it will get better. What is it you always said to me? ‘You’re never given more than you can handle.’”
Being reminded of one of my mother’s saying was cathartic. It reminded me of my dream, ‘keep living’ was my new motto. A bunch of philosophical phrases ran through my head to build up my emotional strength which I needed to deal with a bunch of teenagers and pre-adults.
We arrived at the High School. There was no time for a tour, but what I saw of the dance room and theater was nothing short of amazing. A chill ran through me when I saw the group of fresh faced dancers. The energy they exuded was invigorating. We all set off to work. I shadowed Felix, a Conservatory student, who was also a graduate of the High School and was previously in the program. He worked with the students and allowed me to provide constructive criticism. I was impressed by their immense talent. The entire time I watched and taught, I remembered some of the pieces Carson and I had performed in school. Generations of students have danced the same pieces. At the end of the session, Carson put on a song, whispered in my ear the piece, and we went about and performed together.
For the second time in several months, Carson and I were in each other’s arms, dancing as we did when we were as young as the students observing. Steps were performed with the utmost precision as our instructors expected. Lifts and turns were meticulously executed despite my not wearing pointe shoes. I haven’t worn them in so many years the thought of putting them on brought phantom pain to my feet. My hips would chastise me in the morning. When Carson and I gazed in each other’s eyes lovingly, as required by the role, the students couldn’t contain themselves; ‘oohs’ and ‘aahs’ echoed throughout the room. The piece required a kiss at the end of a lift, and as we held each other, Matt plagued my thoughts.
Even though there was absolutely no chance of sex between me and Carson, being held by him made me feel like I’d betrayed Matt. It was the most ridiculous emotion. Instead of kissing, we held our faces close, lips at the cusp of connection. And we smiled at each other. The smile led to a giggle. And the giggles led to a chaste kiss on the cheek. Hormonal teenagers and preteens who desperately wanted to see the conclusion of our passionate dance filled the room with the definite sound of disappointment. While we failed them with the lack of kissing, we still kept them captivated throughout the piece which was the point of the performance.
Once the session was over, pizza and drinks were delivered. Carson ordered me a personal pizza without cheese, and I was gratefu
l. We ate and talked to the students, getting to know one another. I loved how the students didn’t segregate themselves by gender. They intermingled with the Conservatory instructors and weren’t gender or identity specific in their grouping. Many of the girls asked me to permanently join the instruction staff. I smiled and revealed I’d think about it. When one girl asked if I had a boyfriend, I responded that I have many boyfriends because I’m just so pretty. They laughed. I did notice some of the boys looking at me, and I thought of Matt’s assertion of my appealing to men. When it came to the boys in the program, I’d hoped they were merely curious about me and not attracted. One boy in particular, Giovanni, smiled at me often and I refused to give him any attention because he, and the rest of the group, were still incredibly impressionable at their young age.
Finally, Carson declared class over. The young students gathered their things and proceeded to leave the school. Carson, the Conservatory students and I packed ourselves into the van. We drove back toward my place, listening to pop music and moving their bodies within their seats, seemingly catching a second wind. I felt old and decrepit.
“Where do they get their energy? I’m ready for bed.”
“Me too. Teaching is so much better because I don’t have to perform the routine over and over again.”
“Clearly, you’re still very capable of dancing and lifting.” I winked when his vision returned to me. “Thank you for bringing me with you. You have no idea how much I needed this. I’d like to come back another time, if you’ll have me?”
“We’d love to have you anytime.” He smiled at me.
“Great.”
“You know we meet Sundays, so you’ll have to have the day off.”
“I know. I’m thinking of looking for a better paying job. I’m planning on taking more risks with my career.” I revealed.