“Oh yeah?” she said in a neutral manner.
“It’s been great...”
“So what’s the fly in the ointment?” she asked.
I chuckled at her phrase.
“It’s Matt. I don’t know if you remember me talking about him.”
“Of course,” she said, nodding. “I always thought you guys would meet again, and I’d sort of prepared my speech, if you know what I mean.”
I nodded. “I do, yeah. We ran into each other at the Museum last summer. He told me he was about to get married...”
Janine was looking at me sympathetically. “Aw, poor Dave.”
“I know,” I said. “It was horrible timing. I’d just gotten together with Aaron...”
I paused.
“But he came to see me again for lunch, and I met him downtown just before his wedding,” I said in a rush. I glanced around, grateful for the half-empty diner. I still lowered my voice. “I slept with him.”
Janine’s mouth dropped open. Her eyes widened. She flushed slightly.
“It was incredible. I’ve thought about it ever since, even though I told him we shouldn’t see each other again. Pretty firmly. He left the door open to seeing me again, but he didn’t push it.”
“Wow,” Janine said. She sighed. “Oh, Dave.”
She put her hand on mine briefly and I clasped it, enjoying the warmth. Her sympathy made me feel strange: more vulnerable, more dejected, certainly. I was glad we’d steered clear of alcohol.
It would be so easy to get too close to her again.
“Dave, all I can say is,” Janine began, “you’re always going to wonder if you don’t see it through.”
“But he’s married,” I said fiercely. “It can’t go anywhere!”
She nodded. “It can only be what you both want it to be. You don’t want to marry him, do you?”
Heat flooded my face and I shook my head.
“Aaron and I feel practically married,” I confessed. I sounded foolish, and raw, but Janine patted my hand.
“Look, hon, you never wanted to fool around when we were together. And I can see you’re kicking yourself for wanting to do it now. But you know that line about the heart wants what it wants? Comes from a poem, I think. Mary Oliver?”
“I never thought you were the literary type,” I said, smiling.
“I’m not, but the guy and I read poetry together...”
She really was charming. I felt warm and loving toward her for a moment. It wasn’t exactly a sexual feeling, and I didn’t necessarily want to go to bed with her again. I wanted her to have her happiness and be content with it. She deserved it.
“You deserve to be happy,” she said, meeting my eyes. “Even if you think you fucked up with me, and you’re afraid of messing up with Aaron...”
“That’s it. I don’t want to hurt Aaron.” My voice had gone hoarse.
“Has he said anything? Does he know?”
“Yeah. I was honest.” I sighed deeply. “And he would be OK with me seeing Matt now. As a friend, or more, I guess.”
She clutched my hand. “That, my dear, is as good as it’s going to get!”
I smiled at her. “I’ve missed you, Janine. And I’m sorry about ... things.”
She nodded. “Don’t I look happier now, though? You’re off the hook.”
When we hugged again, in the parking lot, I felt her breasts pressing against my chest. She kissed my cheek. I felt warmed by her, yet not fired up, and I hoped she felt the same way. She took a few steps away, still facing me.
“It’s so much easier to be around you now!” she said suddenly, startling me. “You were getting so cold and shut down there toward the end...”
I shrugged. “It’s all a blur, last summer. I’m sure I was, though. I’m sorry.”
“Come meet Guillermo sometime,” she said. “Have a drink with us?”
I knew her so well that although what she was suggesting seemed innocent, there was a little question in her voice. I could practically see the carnal scenarios playing in her head. I stood, looking at her, and suddenly I said, “OK.”
She bit her lip, a gesture I recognized from way back, something she did when she felt she’d gotten something unexpectedly good.
“Can’t promise anything,” I said lightly. That was also a line I’d used with her a lot in the past. Usually it meant the opposite. We both smiled and looked down. I hoped that Guillermo would have the good sense not to go along with any of his girlfriend’s questionable plans, though I had never associated Brazilians with good sense, exactly.
I was grateful to Janine today for many reasons. One of them was that she’d made me feel desirable again. The other, I realized, was that the ache associated with Matt had receded somewhat. Talking about it had helped.
Janine walked back toward me, and gently kissed me on the lips. I was startled, dazed. I tasted the creamy sweetness of her milkshake.
She gestured to my Toyota. “Well, I saw you to your car,” she joked. “I’ll walk to work from here. Cool down a bit.”
She shoved her hands in her pockets and left me alone in the chilly parking lot as gray clouds massed overhead. I looked around as if I expected someone to be watching, as if I had said or done something terribly wrong. I licked my lips.
“What the fuck was that?” I said under my breath.
I felt she cared about me still. I knew she wanted to jump my bones again, and the ridiculous thing was, it was easier to contemplate than being with Matt, because it would be just sex.
I knew also that I could hold her off indefinitely, and she wouldn’t press her luck. She’d keep bringing it up, though, and one of these days I’d weaken.
I took a deep breath. I had to get ahold of myself. What did I want, anyway? It bothered me that I didn’t know. I didn’t understand how it was for other people, what rules they set for themselves. Maybe I wasn’t such an outlier; maybe this was the way life was, and you just had to give in and let it wash over you. My father had never given me any guidance beyond, as far as I knew, not cheating on my mother. Oh yeah, and one thing more. Don’t ever hit girls, he’d once slurred. He’d been drunk and I’d shaken my head, thinking he was an idiot. Still, they’d been very unhappy, and his addiction had really been his lifelong mistress.
If I’d really, really wanted to just be with Aaron and let the rest of the world go hang, I’d already blown it by sleeping with Matt.
I stood there in the diner lot, one hand on my aged car. I should get in and have a cigarette, I thought. Inside, smoking, watching the rain starting to sleet down the windscreen, it came to me.
The choice wasn’t really between having strict boundaries or having no boundaries, although it seemed like that. You could set different boundaries with each person. As a bartender, my boundaries had been pretty iron-clad because there were so many ways people could mess with you, and you couldn’t let them.
That had been comfortable, but it had left me extremely lonely and basically in limbo for most of my twenties.
Now I had Aaron. I drew a deep, calming breath into my lungs. If he was giving me leave to explore, I should explore. Then, at a later time, I could reassess. I could tighten up the relationship then.
I supposed it all depended on the fact that I felt he wouldn’t screw around. Chaos would descend if he did. But if I made love with Matt on occasion, how emotionally chaotic could it possibly be?
And if I made love with my ex, and even her new boyfriend, on a very rare basis...what harm would it do?
I’d known lots of people, both men and women, who slept around, who were sexual with everyone they fancied, basically, and I’d despised them all my life. But now I understood it.
I stubbed the cig out and lit another. I would have to limit myself to people I really liked, really enjoyed being with. What if that was my only rule? And be discreet, so it wouldn’t hurt Aaron?
Of course I would be.
The rain was sheeting down so hard now that nobody could see into the car. I hoped
Janine had got safely back to The Lucky Shamrock. I should have offered to drive her, but she hated my car and I doubted she’d have accepted.
Instead of starting the car, I grabbed a tissue from a box on the passenger seat. I unzipped my jeans. I conjured up the image of Janine’s bare breasts. I imagined sucking her huge nipples.
I was rock hard, sweating. The images were intense. I imagined lying back and getting sucked off by her while Guillermo fucked her. Then I imagined eating her out while he fucked me. Guillermo would be a top, I thought.
I exploded into the tissue, though a splotch of come landed on the windscreen. I wiped it away slowly.
What the hell is wrong with me? I thought.
But I was smiling.
My breathing slowly went back to normal. I zipped back up and glanced at my watch. Thank God I didn’t start work till 2pm. I wasn’t even late.
My phone pinged. A text had come in from Janine.
Thanks for lunch. You’re very handsome, you know.
I thought for a moment.
No prob. But I thought you only liked dark guys now?
I waited.
Ha ha. I’ll always carry a torch for you. You know that.
I thought.
You shouldn’t. But I might take you up on that idea of yours sometime.
A long pause. I imagined her in the bar, tapping on her phone in between serving customers. Smiling cheekily.
You’d really be interested?? I’m flattered.
Steadying myself, I typed:
I miss your breasts.
I shook my head. There was another long pause.
Now you tell me! LOL.
Then she added: Seriously, I wish we could have gone back to my place just now. I was afraid to ask you.
I stared at the phone, my lips dry. I typed quickly:
Just give me a little notice next time. I didn’t think you’d want to do it with me again.
Pause.
Not angry anymore, so I do. I think I always will.
Was sort of joking about including G. Maybe we could meet for a 1 on 1?
Before I lost my courage I typed quickly,
Next week, same time, at your place? Would that work?
A long pause.
That will work! Tom and I will both be excited to see you.
I smiled.
The poor guy will be very confused.
Heh. He’s used to seeing naked guys by now. Am I getting ahead of myself?
No. That’s the general idea :-)
Good stuff! See u then, Dave.
Till then, I typed.
I hit end. Switching on the ignition, I gave the old car a few minutes to warm up. I was still slightly hard. I knew now that I could still have good sex with Janine, and suddenly I wanted to. I imagined her Brazilian guy was maybe a bit too soft and sensual for her tastes. Nothing wrong with that, but it seemed like true love wasn’t enough for either of us, Janine and I, and we needed a taste of something real and raw, gritty like the tough, crowded towns in Massachusetts we’d both come from, and escaped.
Behind all this was the thought that if I distracted myself with Janine’s warm, receptive body, I could put off contacting Matt.
3.
That same Tuesday Aaron had yoga at a place nearby on Cortland Avenue, something he had been doing weekly for months now. Since it wasn’t fair to expect him to cook afterwards, I picked up burritos for us at Taqueria Cancun on my way home, staring distractedly at the red and yellow decor, the picture of Frida Kahlo near the cash register. They had super-burritos for a very good price, and Aaron and I favored the El Pastor, the spicy pork.
Tuesdays had become a sort of date night for us, a ritual we both enjoyed. Aaron was so sweet and peaceful after the yoga class, and it was nice to eat with him and then make love later. He was different on those nights, centered, with sex feeling less hungry and compulsive for both of us. I treasured these nights, while chiding myself privately for being sentimental. Other days of the week he was fine, but we were often both a little tired and distant, and then of course I worked weekends, which put a damper on things.
But I still tended to be fresh on Tuesdays, and this day in particular, after seeing Janine, I’d felt happy. I tried not to question it. How could it be wrong to feel happy? I wasn’t drinking, so this had all happened sober. I still marveled at it, though. It felt I was being given a second chance with Janine, and I didn’t want to hold her at arm’s length. She was in a relationship; she knew what she was doing.
But would I tell Aaron? I decided that I would, and I also figured that it would be easy for him to see what had happened. He knew me very well, despite Matt’s strange pronouncement in the dream. There wouldn’t have to be many words exchanged, and that suited me.
I drove up the hill to Elsie Street, the fat burritos, cocooned in tin foil, warm beside me in their paper bag. I crunched a tortilla chip or two. Cancun had the best chips, thick with a toasted taste.
I walked into the house briskly, turning on the lights, moving down the hall to the kitchen. I expected Aaron back in about half an hour, around 7.30. It would be dark then. I lit some candles on the table, got out a couple bottles of Corona. Sometimes we even drank wine. I wasn’t fussy.
In the old days I would have checked voicemail after coming home from work, but I tended to let it go now. Aaron had an old-fashioned answering machine in the living room. Few people ever left messages, now that everyone was texting. I still called my mom on the landline occasionally, but leaving long messages wasn’t her style.
My laptop sat on the kitchen table, blank-faced. I powered it up and, taking a few swallows of Corona, pulled up Facebook. I decided to friend Janine. It had taken me long enough to do it. I had only joined Facebook when I moved to Bernal Heights the previous summer, after our breakup. When I found her, I stared at her picture for a while, noting Guillermo’s photo among her group of friends. She had no public updates. I clicked the friend request button after a moment.
Then I briefly looked at my notifications. Nothing of interest. That was because I only had about ten Facebook friends, including my sister in Boston, and most recently my Aunt Sheila. Everyone was very careful now about what they put up. I was as well. I never shared anything about Aaron; it seemed wrong, though we were officially “in a relationship.” Aaron was much more relaxed about the whole thing, and some of his status updates took me by surprise. Usually he posted during the day at work. He’d get irked by political stuff, being so liberal that he was often critical of President Obama’s policies for not being radical enough, and he told me it was cathartic for him to post. I said I understood.
Matt hadn’t shared anything in the news feed for a long time. I clicked on his profile picture, swallowing slightly. A gallery of photos from his Caribbean honeymoon last year was still the only thing I saw on his page. Perhaps he had limited my access. Wouldn’t that sting? I wasn’t sure. I didn’t want to be plunged into the middle of his life with Taylor, and it looked like I wouldn’t have to be.
There was one pic of him alone, without Taylor, although she had most probably taken it. He was looking out to sea, in profile, from the deck of a ship, clutching the rail. He looked thoughtful, almost lonely. I just stared at the picture for a while, noticing how brown he was, his strong forearms. Taylor had posted something snarky when she tagged him in this photo (“Oblivious hubby on the boat, lost in his deep thoughts!”), and it clearly wasn’t a favorite of hers, since it showed that he wasn’t paying attention to her on their awesome honeymoon...
I clicked “Like” on the photo. Nobody else had liked it.
Switching back to my profile page, it now told me that Janine O’Brien was my friend. Going back to her page, my eyes were met with a flurry of activity, picture after picture of Janine and Guillermo out on the town, hugging, kissing. I looked at them benignly, like an uncle. They looked good together. Clicking on Guillermo’s page, I saw more: some pouty modeling pics of himself in underwear from a year or
so back where he clearly gave off a homoerotic vibe, bare chest, six pack, and all. Quite a lot of men had clicked like on those photos and some had even written suggestive things, or things in Spanish I didn’t understand. I smiled. Guillermo was hot, but Matt on the boat with his corded muscles and intense expression had given me an ache and made me sweat slightly.
I logged off Facebook, and a few minutes later I heard Aaron’s key in the lock.
He came down the hall, and I stood in the kitchen waiting. I was nervous. He came up, smiling, and kissed me gently, his lips soft, his hair damp from the drizzle outside.
“Shit, I could have picked you up at the studio,” I said hoarsely, because I suddenly realized it.
“No worries, I needed the walk,” he answered. “Got all my tension out.”
He stood looking at me intently. I handed him an open beer.
“I like the candles,” was all he said.
“It’s what I always do.”
He gulped a little beer, still looking at me, his body taut and lean in black sweatpants. “You saw Janine today? How was it?”
“It went great,” I said smiling. “She likes me again.”
“That good?” Aaron said curiously, taking another gulp. “And?”
I paused, glancing around at the table, the food, the tea-light candles. The raindrops had started hitting against the panes, but the kitchen felt safe and warm, almost like a chapel. I had always loved his kitchen, I thought. It still didn’t feel like our kitchen.
“I’m seeing her again next week,” I admitted. I blushed, and he could see it. He took a step closer to me.
“Are you going to sleep with her, Dave?”
I gulped. Then I nodded jerkily.
“I think so. Well, that’s the idea. It’s just sex, Aaron.”
“I know what just sex is,” he said, leaning up to kiss me again, this time more passionately, his body pressing against me. “It’s OK,” he whispered. “You should enjoy yourself.”
I bumped him up against the wooden table, aroused and craving a quickie suddenly. He laughed and said, “I’m starving, let’s eat first and then...”
The Pull of Yesterday Page 2