Add Spice to Taste

by R. G. Emanuelle

  I slipped past her and quickly left the room. Looking back was not an option, because if I caught sight of her standing there naked, I wasn’t sure I would stay strong. As I made my way back down the hall, party guests were wandering around, peeking in rooms, glancing at the art on the walls or pictures on the tables.

  When I got back into the living room, I looked around for Julianna, who was talking with, of all people, Michael. As if I were drowning and she were a lifesaver, I made my way toward her with desperation. When I finally reached her, I felt that I could exhale. I was safe.

  I put my hand on her back, and she turned around. “Hey, did you find the bathroom all right?”

  Even though I hadn’t done anything, I suddenly felt guilty. “Yeah, uh, I found several bathrooms and there were lines for all of them.” I glanced at Michael, who was looking at me strangely, as if studying me. His gaze seemed to penetrate me and I felt at that moment that he could read my mind.

  Julianna’s expression darkened. “Hey, are you okay?”

  I assumed she had noticed the pellets of sweat that had broken out across my forehead and upper lip and were running down my face. I should just slink away like the snake I am. “It just got really hot in here. I guess it’s all these people. You know, body heat.”

  Her face brightened again, and she surveyed the room. “Yeah, where did all these people come from?”

  “Part of Brit’s social circle,” Michael answered. “This is how it always is. Brit will say that she’s having a party for twenty or fifty or a hundred people, and it turns into fifty or a hundred or two hundred people.” He smirked. “I always feel bad for the caterer,” he added, pointedly looking at me. “But she always gives a bonus.” My glare couldn’t have been more obvious. All he did, though, was smile wider. “If you’ll excuse me, I have to go say hello to someone,” he said.

  He turned to leave us, but not before throwing me a wink. But it wasn’t the snippy kind of wink

  I would’ve expected. It was the kind one person gives another to reassure them in a questionable situation.

  Despite the enormity of the room, it began closing in on me. The heat became so intense that I couldn’t breathe. My head felt like it was in a vise and was being squeezed tighter and tighter, and my stomach roiled. I had to get out of that room. I made for the terrace, saying over my shoulder to Julianna, “I’ll be right back.”

  The night had actually cooled off a bit and I sucked in a big gulp of air. It was still hot, though, and I was tired. I glanced at my watch. How had it gotten to be one a.m.? The lounge chairs were all taken up with guests who had passed out, some holding more than one person. A couple of partiers had stripped and were frolicking in the pool. At least, that’s how I wanted to think of it because I didn’t want to know what they were actually doing. I turned to the right, where the semblance of a separation had been made by a brick arch covered in ivy. On the other side, the atmosphere was different. It was like a peaceful garden, with potted plants, a small cherub fountain, and quietly growing ivy. Two tall bonsai trees stood sentinel on either side of another set of French doors, these opening up from the dining room. No one else was there, oddly, so I breathed in deeply and exhaled as I walked over to the edge, on this side a chest-high brick wall, feeling the anxiety slowly leave my body.

  With my hands on the ledge, I looked out over the city. Even though a dampness hung in the air, the lights of the Empire State building to the left were surprisingly clear, and straight ahead, the Hudson River was dotted with passing yachts and party boats. The big neon Colgate sign on the New Jersey side was barely discernible, and way off in the distance, I could just make out the Statue of Liberty, just a tiny dot of light, but one that anyone would recognize. I was amazed at what you could see all the way up here.

  “Isn’t it great?” I recognized Brit’s come-hither voice floating through the archway. I turned toward her. “The view, I mean,” she said.

  “Um, yeah, it’s great.”

  She was fully dressed again, except that she had decided to put something else on. As long as she was naked, why not make a wardrobe change, right? The loose black palazzo pants and black halter top she’d selected were no less enticing than the dress. Her hair was tied up in a big, fluffy ponytail. She looked natural in anything she put on.

  “Brit, I’m sorry about that. I hope you understand.”

  Leaning on one foot, her head tilted and a red drink in her hand, she contemplated me for a moment, then came closer. “Sure, I understand.” She put her drink down on a wrought iron bistro table.

  Oh, man, was she going to throw me over the side of the balcony? I prepared myself for some Hollywood-style rooftop battle where one person always ended up going over. Nervously, I moved away from the wall and crossed over to the other side, against the apartment wall. It didn’t stop her—she merely changed trajectory and followed my steps.

  “I totally understand why you did it,” she said, “but that doesn’t make me feel any better.”

  “Look, I’m sorry, but I’m involved.”

  “Yes, I know. But it’s not like you’re married or anything. I mean, how long have you been seeing her?”

  “Long enough.”

  She looked at me with amusement. “You’re really sweet. That’s one of the reasons I like you.” She moved closer.

  It occurred to me then that although I hadn’t betrayed Julianna physically, I had mentally. Was that wrong? To think of someone else in a sexual way?

  Once again, I found myself squeezed against the wall by Brit’s body. She pressed her lips against mine and kissed me unapologetically. I felt her hands move up my torso and over my breasts, and I had to grab her arms to stop her. Again, I pushed her away, but her mouth remained locked on mine. It was as if there was some kind of suction between our lips. She pulled her hand away and in one swift move, stuck it down my pants. Her hand was now inside the waistband of my underwear and she was trying to go down lower. Fear, anger, arousal, and resentment all came together in me like a twister.

  But past the boozy haze and beyond the cravings of my sex-starved body, lay what was left of my self-respect—and respect for Julianna. What kind of person does this? I grabbed Brit’s hand just as she was wiggling it down toward my crotch and yanked it out.

  “Brit, stop.”

  “Why? I know you like me. I can tell by the way you looked at me before.”

  Despite myself, I had to admit that I’d had a visceral reaction to her—a beautiful woman who was interested in me—but that’s where it ended.

  “I’m not interested.” I said as firmly as I could.

  “Liar.” Her fingers wrapped around my belt, and she was trying to unclasp it. I was so glad that I’d worn the belt with double prongs—it took a bit longer to unbuckle. It bought me enough time to grab her wrists, probably harder than I should have.

  Something pulled my attention toward the arch. My heart almost stopped when I saw Julianna standing there. She locked eyes with me for a moment, then turned and walked off.

  She’d been watching. But for how long? Well, any amount of time should have revealed that I tried to fight Brit off. Yes, I tried. I did. I couldn’t say that I hadn’t been tempted, but in the end, I made the right decision. Julianna must have seen that.

  Without another word or glance at Brit, I went after Julianna, adjusting my shirt and pants along the way. The crowd inside had thinned out, but only a little. To the jet set, it was still early. I made my way through the crowd looking to see where Julianna had gone. I stood in the middle of the vast, crowded living room and scanned it. I finally spotted her at the elevator. She was pressing the button with unreasonable frequency.

  “Julianna, wait.” I grabbed her arm, which she pulled out of my grasp.

  “That’s okay,” she said, not looking at me. “I can’t blame you. She’s a crazy sexy woman. And you’re not tied to me. We had a few dates. You don’t owe me anything.”

  I didn’t know it until that moment, bu
t I was in love with her. Completely, utterly in love. And knowing that she thought I didn’t care for her, or about her, wrenched my guts.

  The doors opened and she stepped onto the elevator. I jumped on with her but she refused to look at me and instead kept her gaze on the back-lit number pad.

  I stepped up as close to her as I thought she’d allow. “I’m so sorry. I’m not trying to throw some bullshit at you, but she jumped on me. Really.”

  Julianna took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “You don’t owe me any explanations.”

  “But I do. I didn’t do anything and wasn’t going to do anything. I don’t want to do anything with anyone but you.”

  For a moment, it looked as if I’d gotten through to her, like she believed me. She was silent as we descended the final floors of the building. The doors opened and she stepped out without a word.

  I hurried after her. “Julianna. Please, talk to me.”

  She stopped, gazing down at the deep-maroon carpet that looked as if it had been installed just the day before. “When I get involved with someone, I have to know that they really want to be with me. If there’s any doubt in my mind, I can’t be with that person.”

  “But I do want to be with you,” I pleaded. “I haven’t felt this way for anyone in a long time.”

  Julianna resumed walking. The security guys at the desk surreptitiously glanced at us as I followed her out the door. I had to stop her. If I let her walk away from me, if I didn’t make this right, I knew I’d regret it for the rest of my life. “Julianna,” I called after her. “I realized something tonight. I love you.” My stomach turned over. I knew that whatever she was about to say would not be good.

  “I love you,” I repeated with the same conviction, but with much less expectation that the response would be what I wanted.

  “That’s your misfortune.” She walked away and I was left standing there, absurdly aware that she had quoted Rhett Butler in Gone with the Wind.

  In the still night air, heavy with humidity and stagnation, I saw the emptiness of my life and I could feel my heart being ripped out of me.

  Add Spice

  IN THE SEVERAL weeks that passed, I tried calling Julianna a few times, but she either didn’t respond or, on a few occasions, she’d tell me that she needed time to think. That couldn’t be good. It’s never good when people say that. I wanted to keep calling her but I didn’t want to push. Most of all, I wanted to show her that I cared about her enough to give her the space she needed.

  But what if a lot of time went by and she thought I’d lost interest? Hell, I didn’t know what the fuck I needed to do.

  The season was beginning to change. It was still warm but the air had that whisper of autumn in it. The evenings were cooler now and I opened up the windows instead of cranking up the A/C. I was in the midst of preparing materials for my autumn programs: ten ways to use root vegetables; autumn salads; showstopper desserts for the holidays; and farmhouse soups. Completely focused on my requisition form for the ingredients I would need for each class, I almost didn’t notice my phone, which I’d left on vibrate, shimmy across the table.

  It was a text message from Julianna.

  If you’re still interested, I’m ready to talk.

  My hands shook as I texted her back and I kept hitting the wrong keys.

  “Fucking spellcheck!” I cursed when the phone changed my attempt at “Yes, I would very much like to talk” to “Yen, I would never mash like teak.”

  When I finally had the right words spelled out, I hit “send,” and I realized that I’d been holding my breath.

  Meet me at the coffee shop in an hour.

  I knew which coffee shop she meant. It was the one where Julianna and I had met a couple of times, once for a breakfast and once before heading over to the Upright Citizens Brigade Theater for a comedy show.

  I tried to do a little more work before going, but my nerves just wouldn’t let me. A rock sat in the pit of my stomach and I couldn’t stop my leg from bouncing maniacally. There was no point in trying anymore, so I left.

  An hour later, I was sitting in a booth, playing with a straw wrapper, folding it into a tiny accordion and smoothing it out again, when Julianna walked in. I threw the wrapper aside, where it landed between the ketchup bottle and sugar dispenser.

  “Hi,” I said. Should get up? I remained sitting.

  “Hi,” she said, sliding into the booth. “Thanks for meeting me.”

  She was thanking me? I was so grateful that she even still had my phone number.

  “No, thank you.” I said.

  She gave me a small smile, cautious and conservative. She had a wall up and I didn’t blame her.

  I remained silent, waiting for her to speak first. Not only did I want to give her that courtesy, but whatever she said would determine what came out of my mouth.

  The server came to the table and asked Julianna if she wanted something to drink. She had already placed two menus on the table when I told her I was waiting for someone. I had ordered a seltzer, just to have something to do.

  “I’d like some tea, please,” Julianna told the server. “And a BLT.”

  The server turned to me. “How about you?”

  Oh, she was ordering food. Okay. I didn’t want her to eat alone. That’s awkward for both parties.

  I looked at the specials board. “I’ll have the mushroom-barley soup.”

  The server nodded and picked up the menus. “I’ll be right back with your tea.”

  Julianna gave her a nod, then turned to me.

  “So, how have you been?”

  What should I tell her, that I was fine? I wasn’t. I’d been miserable without her, and I felt like I’d been living in a bland, unseasoned world. Losing her—at least for those few weeks—had forced me to think about things I didn’t want to think about, like shadows and darkness. But having thought about them, the conclusion I’d come to was that I needed her in my life.

  “So-so,” I said. “Missed you.”

  A group of tourists sat down in the booth behind her, with cameras and maps. From their accents, I guessed they were Scandinavian.

  The server brought Julianna’s tea and set it down silently.

  “I’ve missed you, too,” Julianna said.

  Was that a brick falling out of her wall? The darkness began to dissipate just a little and the shadow shrank a tiny bit.

  “I’ve been thinking about it,” she said as she slowly stirred honey into her tea. “I realize that I was a bit hard on you. And I’m sorry.”

  I was afraid to speak, to say or do anything to screw things up. The shop’s fast service momentarily saved me when the waitress delivered our food. I thought it best—and Julianna evidently did as well—to fortify myself with food first. Being hungry and being reasonable were two things that did not go together well for me.

  Julianna crunched into her BLT, getting a blob of mayo on her chin. I picked up my napkin and gently wiped it off. She kept her eyes on me as I did and I thought I saw a few more bricks come tumbling down.

  My mushroom-barley soup was good and comforting, but I tossed aside the little package of saltines they had placed on the saucer.

  “I love saltines,” she said, giving me a look as if she found my rejection of the crackers offensive.

  “I do, too. I just don’t want them with barley. It seems redundant. Besides, the soup is not the right texture for crackers. It’s pointless.”

  She chuckled as she wiped her mouth. “I guess I’m going to have to get used to being with a chef.”

  Get used to being with a chef? So, she wanted to be with me? My innards felt loose, like I’d just been given a ride in a blender and was being poured out into a glass. I swore that dating this woman would end up killing me because, once again, I had to stop chewing and close my throat to keep from choking. When I was sure that the food in my mouth would go down the right pipe, I swallowed.

  Coherent thoughts wouldn’t come to me, but I couldn’t just sit th
ere stupidly. I opened my mouth and began speaking, cautiously, slowly, one word at a time, hoping that at some point, the right string of words would reveal themselves to me.

  “I . . . hope . . . um, that . . . I . . . ”

  She reached across the table and gripped my hand. Her fingers were slightly greasy from the mayo and bacon and I rubbed my thumb across them, almost absent-mindedly, almost as if I were rubbing lotion into her skin.

  “It’s okay,” she said. “I can be hardheaded. I guess I get that from my grandfather.” I looked up at her and her eyes were soft and gentle, and I was humbled. How could someone as kind and caring as Julianna tolerate someone like me for very long? I was her opposite in almost every way. Sure, I was nice, but I was also snarky, suspicious, a bit selfish, and jaded.

  In the delicate, earnest face of this woman, in the feel of her mayo-slicked hand, my helplessness and desolation began to wash away. The closed, dusty doors that were all I had seen down the road looked like they were cracking open.

  She pulled her hand away and I wanted to grab it back but I thought I should probably let her eat her sandwich.

  Her face brightened and she hungrily polished off one half of her sandwich. She wiped her mouth with her napkin, and took a sip of her tea. “Tell me, is there room for one more in your root vegetable class?”

  I was halfway through my soup, enjoying it way more than I’d enjoyed any meal in a while. “Oh, you saw the catalog?”

  “Of course. I had to see what you were going to be doing. And, hopefully, there won’t be any pretty women in that class.”

  I looked up to find a smug little expression on her face as she picked up the other half of her sandwich. She was torturing me and loving it. And I had no right to stop her.

  “You mean besides you?”

  She continued smiling and took a sip of tea.

  It didn’t take us long to finish up the rest of our meal, filling the spaces with light chitchat. I told her about the menus I was planning for classes, and she told me about her ideas for moving her documentary forward. Then I remembered something that had been stalled in the back of my mind.