“So…how are people supposed to…you know…experience it?”
Alex snaked an arm around my shoulder and chuckled. Deanna got a snapshot of that, too. “It’s about couples. The human condition when life is lived in tandem. You see, I believe that none of us walks through life alone, that every moment is tempered by the influence of someone else.”
“And you plan to share it…how?”
“You mean, with the public? I haven’t decided whether or not to take applications for the experience. Regardless, this particular project will be prepared for viewing in a small, enclosed space by couples only.”
“Because we’re all affected by someone else.” My eyebrow raised slowly. I hoped it communicated more interest and less of the disdain that was starting to creep in.
“Exactly! Our orbit through this universe is steady, but it can wobble when someone else gets near to it. That’s transcendent.”
“Huh.” I nodded slowly. I had to admit, most of my dates had started off with small talk and fidgeting and awkward laughs. This one felt decidedly more grown-up, and a bit out of my reach. It was like I’d walked into a spy movie crossed with a philosophy department lecture hall.
“This is Romy and Tom, Tara and Helen, Leo and Laura, and then, of course, you and me.”
“We’re not a couple, though.”
Literally every person in the room besides Deanna and I burst out laughing.
Alex smiled at us gently, then announced to the three other ‘couples,’ “She missed the prologue.”
They nodded understandingly. One of them—Helen, I thought, a woman with long blond dreads and a sequined t-shirt dress—slid me a drink, glowing blue. “This is the one named after you, darling,” she said in a deep, cloying voice. I took a sip and the stinging heat of it going down my throat nearly made me splutter.
Luckily, that meant I didn’t drink anything else that night.
Alex explained how he’d submitted his profile to Liz Dates Philly weeks ago, narrated to the group how he’d been taken by my photograph at first, then my ‘sweet’ sense of humor, then my extensive vocabulary. It was sort of an odd list, but I’d rarely had a guy get so specific about why he was attracted to me. Except—I gulped at the thought—JJ. That first night, when he’d treated every inch of my skin like it was precious…
A sharp fingernail poked into my upper arm. “Liz? Still with us?”
I shook my head, bringing myself back to the moment, and Deanna tilted her head toward Romy and Tom, who had just started enthusiastically making out.
“Wow, they’re…”
“They’re the newest couple here. Well, besides you and me.” Alex smiled like he’d just said something brilliant enough to add to the Bible. “The project explores the way time affects our connection with one another. Time is a real thing, but it’s an illusion, you know?”
I didn’t know, but my brain suddenly started to feel very, very tired. My mouth dropped open the slightest bit as I searched for a response, but he jumped in again before I could give one.
“It’s just that it’s fucking right there, you know, this ephemeral time-relationship-being, and I’m trying to fucking capture it, you know? But it’s like a puzzle. This’ll be the sixth installment I’ve done.”
“Soooo cool,” Tara, Helen’s other half, drawled, and then put her head down on the table, heavy-lidded eyes drifting shut.
“She’s baked,” Deanna said, stating the painfully obvious.
“So what do you say? Are you game?” Alex trailed his fingertips over the back of my hand, and looked at me with such openness that it felt weird saying anything but yes. Plus, with all these people here, what could go wrong? It might be really cool to be part of his art, or experience, or whatever it was. At the very least, it could make this my most hilarious column yet.
“So, to my studio, then.” The other couples started collecting their stuff, and stood to walk out. “It’s too far to walk, but that’s better. It’s down on Washington and 6th. I chose it for the way the street lights filter in right around this time of night. We have perfect timing.” Leo and Laura nodded solemnly. “They’ve been there before,” Alex said, like it explained their apparent reverence for his apartment.
“The bill?” I asked, slightly dumbfounded by this whole date. If you could call it a date. It had barely lasted fifteen minutes.
“My grandfather owns the club,” Alex said, waving a hand airily over the whole dim, writhing place.
“Now it all makes sense,” Deanna grumbled as she got down on the ground to take a picture of the other couples’ shoes. At least that’s what I thought she was doing. She heaved herself back up again just as Alex was fitting my coat around my shoulders.
At least I didn’t have to dance. That, at least, was one positive outcome of this whole weird night. Alex’s hand grazed the small of my back while we walked out. My skin crawled.
All nine of us stood on the sidewalk, waiting for Alex’s car to pull around. Deanna tugged her phone out of her coat pocket and tapped something out on the screen. After a few seconds of wiggling in place to try to keep warm, Deanna looked up at me with a decidedly guilty expression.
“What?” I asked her. I was becoming more aware every second of how intensely uncomfortable this whole thing felt. But I wasn’t drunk, or drugged. Neither Alex nor any of our companions seemed dangerous.
“My roommate is texting me. She’s always losing her key, but now she’s lost the backup key.
“And you’re the only backup now?” I guessed.
“Yeah, and she just got off a long shift, and it’s cold…” she trailed off.
“Go let her in.”
“Will you be okay, though?”
“Totally,” I said. “You know where I’m going, in case anyone asks, and honestly, I think these guys are harmless.”
“I’ll bring her home when we’re finished, of course,” Alex said. It was only then that I noticed that his eyes were slowly raking over my body, down and then back up again. He met my eyes and smiled the same smile he had when I’d first arrived. “Beautiful,” he said with a decisive nod.
“Um…thank you?”
“You’re welcome,” he said with a soft, smug smile, letting me know that I’d made the appropriate response. Okay then.
“What about the pictures?” Deanna groaned. “I have to have photos of the whole date.”
“I’ll snap something on my phone. Alphonso won’t even notice.”
“If he does, he probably won’t even care,” Deanna offered.
“We’re good,” I said with a reassuring smile. It was the right thing to do. I’d want Jordan to bail me out if I was locked out of the apartment. I squeezed my eyes shut, trying to push the image of Jordan opening the door to our place for me, welcoming me in with a smile. The more I thought about it, the more I’d crave him. This was not the time or the place to be lost in thoughts of what I wished he was doing to me with his mouth and hands.
Whatever. He’d closed the door on any possibility of us being together weeks ago. I was on a date with another guy, and I was going to try my best to enjoy it.
Deanna was happy to wait outside the club within eyesight of the bouncer for her ride, so I climbed into the back of Alex’s suburban, squeezing in between Alex and Helen. Leo and Laura had taken their own car. Alex murmured something to his driver - yes, driver - and we were on our way.
Now that we’d left the bustle of the bar, an eerie quiet hung in the air around us. I’d come to depend on Deanna’s company for a certain security more than I’d realized. My gut twisted, telling me that going to Alex’s with a bunch of strangers may not have been the greatest idea, after all.
It only took about ten minutes to arrive at Alex’s place. I couldn’t have been happier about that fact, since Alex had spent the whole time speaking low in my ear about the rhythm of the breaths of all humanity ebbing and flowing in tandem. Or something. He also informed me that he mixed a totally ethereal cocktail whose name
had something to do with clouds, because it would make me feel like I was floating.
I was definitely not going to be drinking one of those.
The apartments were newly built, the biggest thing standing on this particular corner. The contractors had lined the sidewalk around the apartment building with trees, which stopped abruptly at a decrepit parking lot that led to a small grocery store. Across the street was a row of businesses - a medical supply shop, a nail salon, and some kind of cafe, their backlit signs looking dusty and exhausted. Alex led us through a heavy wooden front door with brushed silver handles, motioning for Leo and Laura, who had just pulled up down the street, to join us.
“So when we get to the studio space I’m going to explain the whole process, okay?” Alex said as we walked into the brand-new building. “Keep your shoes and coats on, please.” I looked around. His place was minimalist, clean, with polished concrete floors and pale wood accents.
“So, this is your place?” I asked, trying to steer the conversation a little bit.
“Yeah, well…mine and my parents’. It…uh…well, it had the optimal studio space on my budget, and I like to be near my work at all times. In case inspiration hits. They mostly leave me to my work, though.” He pulled open a door and clicked on a light that illuminated a set of steep stairs.
Oh my God. Alex the artist lived in his parents’ basement. How did I get stuck with not one, but two of these guys? Couldn’t Philly Illustrated at least vet them for shit like this? I needed to have a talk with Monica, first thing in the morning.
The entire basement was painted white - ceiling, walls, floor. There was zero furniture, no TV, nothing except a tripod set up with a small video camera. “The space actually has surround-sound mics that feed into my system.” Alex gestured toward the corner of the expansive, chilly space, where he had a huge computer screen set up next to a simple bed with white sheets.
“So, we’re gonna start with Romy and Tom, if that’s okay? Since they just met, like, when? A couple days ago?” The two of them interlaced their fingers and giggled, pressing their foreheads together.
“Last night,” Romy murmured as she stood on tiptoes to give Tom a long, languid kiss. He cupped her jaw and bent her backwards, responding in kind, for the longest twenty seconds of my life. Finally he pulled away with a section of her auburn hair wrapped around his hand.
“Okay, so if you can just stand about four feet in front of the camera, we can begin,” Alex said. “Just face each other and follow my instructions. Okay.”
Romy and Tom barely broke eye contact with each other. They just stared into each other’s eyes with goofy grins. Not that I envied these two, exactly—they were clearly on a completely different plane of awareness from most of the world—but I had literally never been into someone enough to want to look at them and smile forever.
Well. Except for one guy. The morning after with JJ was the smiliest I’d ever felt in my life.
The other couples watched Romy and Tom with fascination, like their makeout session was the only event occurring in the world. I mostly felt like I was intruding on something.
“I just want you to take turns. Go at your own pace, okay? I want each of you to undress the other, one item of clothing at a time.”
Wait, what?
“There’s just one catch. You have to try your hardest not to touch each other while you do. I’m trying to capture the tension of desire and longing or perhaps unexpected distance, to put it in tangible form, all right?”
“So I can’t touch her?” For the first time since I met him, approximately forty-five minutes ago, Tom didn’t look like he was totally on board with what Alex was asking.
“When you absolutely have to, you can touch her.”
Tom grinned. “Solid.”
I had to admit, it was kind of fascinating watching Tom gently unclasp Romy’s necklace and let it drop to the floor beside them. She did the same with his button-down shirt, giggling as he shivered at her almost-touch. When Tom pulled Romy’s sweater up over her head, making her hair stick up in a staticky halo, I thought for sure that Alex would tell them to stop. But he didn’t. Romy had her hands pulling at Tom’s belt, and then his fingers brushed gently against the back of her bra strap.
This was like watching porn. Really slow, sensual porn on a white backdrop. I couldn’t decide if I wanted to look away or just let the train-wreck nature of it all wash over me.
Once Romy’s bra dropped, though, Tom couldn’t keep his hands off her long enough to leave her exposed for much time anyway. His hands flew to her waist, and she sighed in relief, and then his mouth was on her neck, then he hoisted her up and sucked one of her nipples into his mouth.
Okay. This was when they deserved their privacy. If not from everyone else, at least from me. I turned, and Alex stayed stock still, peering into the camera and nodding slightly as Romy and Tom started to let some distinctly sexual noises loose.
“Is it okay if I have us go next?” he asked me in a casual whisper.
“I guess. What are we going to do?” I knew what he was going to say. I’d only asked because of how desperately I was hoping to be proven wrong.
He turned his head slightly and flicked his gaze to mine. “The same thing. Everyone’s doing the same thing.”
Of course. My gut feeling had been right. My head started to shake of its own accord. “Uh…no. You never said anything about undressing.”
“I didn’t say anything to anyone. That’s the fucking point, Elizabeth.”
“Well it’s not like anyone would have figured that out from your freaking circular philosophical bullshit “project” or “experience” or what the fuck ever this is!”
The truth was, it had sounded interesting, when he waxed eloquent about it at the bar. I might have even agreed to participate, if I hadn’t been basically tricked into doing it.
By this point, Romy was completely naked, and Tom was tripping over his jeans, which had slid down to a pool of denim around his ankles.
“Look,” I said, bending down to grab my bag, “I’ll just…show myself out. Thanks for…well, just…thanks. I guess.” Damn the little Miss Proper manners my mom had driven into my psyche since I was little.
I scrambled up the stairs in my spiky heels to the sound of his shouting that I’d ruined everything and this night would be impossible to replicate and I was murdering his art. Or something.
I didn’t really care when I made it back to the sidewalk. I’d never been happier to escape a place in my life.
I’d also never felt farther from anything I knew, or anyone I loved, or any sense of myself. Apparently dating a bunch of random guys for the sake of Philadelphia’s sadistic voyeuristic entertainment could do that to a girl.
Without warning, all the feelings crashed over me in an overwhelming wave and I gasped against lungs that suddenly felt crushed. I had to get home.
I clicked on my phone and checked the time. How had it gotten so late? Was Alex’s weird basement studio some kind of time warp machine? Were Romy and Tom’s sexual performance skills really that hypnotic? Had I completely lost all grip on reality?
No matter the explanation, it was dark outside, getting colder by the second. Wearing these stilettos, I could probably make my way to 34th street station in fifteen or twenty minutes, but I knew damn well at 10:15 PM that I’d be waiting on the next train for far too long. This wasn’t known for being a bad part of town, but I still didn’t want to hang out here for very long.
I pulled my phone out to open a ride sharing app, but the damn thing refused to load. I helplessly watched the icon in its “please hold” phase for several long seconds before heading to the app store to download one for a different service, but the damn store wouldn’t load, either. One glance to the top menu of my phone confirmed my worst fear – there was no reception here. On top of that, my battery was hovering at a terrifying seven percent. Even if I wanted to wait for one of the apps to become functional, it would probably waste too mu
ch precious power.
My only chance for a ride was to call the operator and get a taxi. Within a few minutes, I had a cabbie promising to pick me up within ten minutes, and my phone still wasn’t dead.
Not a total win, but better than nothing.
I killed the time by pacing rhythmically back and forth down a small stretch of sidewalk, muttering “heel-toe, heel-toe” with each calculated step in these freaking impractical shoes.
Soon, the cabbie pulled up and I gratefully tugged open the door and collapsed onto the warm seat.
“Where to?”
I gave him our address in University City and grunted out a sigh of relief, letting my head fall back on headrest.
“That’ll be twenty,” he said, turning around and staring at me.
“Oh. Right.” I fished through my purse and pulled out my credit card. Monica would probably gladly reimburse me in exchange for tonight’s doozy of a story.
“Cash,” the cabbie said, with a look that told me he had very little patience left for anyone’s bullshit. Maybe less patience than I had, which was saying a lot.
“Oh, sorry. I don’t have any.” I gave him a weak smile, hoping to communicate just how grateful I was that he understood.
“Cash only, honey.” He pointed a stubby finger at a sign right on the dash controls that confirmed what he was saying. “It’s on the site, too.”
“I…I didn’t have the site, there’s no reception here, and –“
“Not my problem,” he cut me off with a shrug.
“But I…how the hell am I gonna get home?” I couldn’t help it. My voice broke on the last word.
“Not my problem, sweetheart.”
I sat bolt upright and glared at him. “I’m not your honey. Or your sweetheart.”
He shrugged and just looked back, nonplussed. “Cash only,” he repeated.
“Asshole,” I muttered as I yanked the door open yet again.
He let out a few choice words of his own when I got out and slammed the door behind me. The cab sped off and I was alone again.
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