Eighteen Months

by Giulia Napoli

  I never took back or wore the friendship ring again.

  **********

  My new employer had picked up the tab for moving the modest number of things I had. The movers came that next-to-last morning in Connecticut and headed out that afternoon with all my worldly possessions, including the remaining furniture that had belonged to my parents’, which I hadn’t sold. I drove over to Jaxson’s apartment to spend the night, knowing I’d leave for River’s Edge in the morning.

  I adore Jaxson’s deep dish pizza, which he makes from scratch, including the dough. I thought he was going to make it for me on that final night. I was disappointed when I arrived and he was lying on the couch, mostly rumpled, clearly unwilling to be bothered to make my last night there memorable in any way. We ended up walking a couple blocks to a fast-food burger place.

  He could tell I was hurt, though I honestly tried to hide it. By the time we got back to his place, I think he was determined to make up for his attitude about my moving. The rest of the evening was mostly rather nice.

  We had the apartment to ourselves, since both of his housemates had gone home for short visits after final exams. We watched a romantic comedy on Netflix while we sat close and hugged and kissed on the couch. By the time the movie was over, we were both naked on the extra-long sofa, and Jaxson had used his hands and kisses along my neck and shoulders to get me ready for whatever was to follow.

  He was cupping me from behind as we both faced the flatscreen across the room. I felt his hand move from my breast, where his massaging had made my little nipple a rock-hard nub, to my cleanly-shaved pussy. After months of instruction from me, he knew what touch I needed there, and his fingers barely floated across my love button to start my arousal. In minutes, he had me breathing like a marathon runner and had my entire pussy ready for sex.

  That’s when he went down on me with his mouth – for the first time ever! In fact, I’d never in my young life experienced that from anyone. His ministrations brought me higher and higher, until he withdrew and slid up along my naked body to kiss my panting mouth.

  “Stay with me, Natalie,” he said.

  I was crushed. What I thought was a display of true passion had been another ruse to keep me there. And my things were already on their way. And we’d been over this so many times!

  “I can’t believe you’re wasting our precious time on something that’s been decided.” I said disconsolately.

  His head rose ever higher and he looked at me, looking up at him. “I was only trying to get you to reconsider.”

  “It’s too late …”

  “I was hoping it wasn’t.”

  “Then maybe you shouldn’t have taken me to a fast-food place for dinner.”

  “Sorry. I was feeling too down to cook …”

  “So now, you want me to reconsider, based on your lack of consideration?”

  He didn’t say anything, but went on, over the next almost-hour, to treat me to the best sex I’d ever had with him, or any other guy. Of course, I’d only been all the way with one other guy, and that had been three years ago, near the end of freshman year. That guy, a Poly Sci major, was now digging ditches in Rwanda with the revitalized Peace Corps. I hoped it would serve him well when he ran for office in 15 years or so. Yeah, that one ended cynically too … but he left me.

  Jaxson’s mouth was more talented than I’d ever expected of him. I had this disturbing feeling that he’d been practicing – or holding out on me for fear that I’d realize that he was more experienced than I thought.

  I decided that, indeed, he was. I also knew that the practice had come along after I had, not before.

  That said, I must have cum two or three times before we finally fell asleep on the sofa. Jaxson gets full credit for the probing, massaging, arousing tongue on my clit, the fingers playing with my engorged nipples, the hard member thrust like a conqueror into my pussy, and the heat, musty aroma, and slippery perspiration of our rather vigorous sex. My body was quivering like jelly until I succumbed to exhaustion, with Jaxson’s dick once again fully thrust into my vagina.

  Before I dropped off, I realized - I finally, finally realized - that in Jaxson’s mind this was about Jaxson, not me. Dead tired, I actually fell asleep then. I suppose that he came in my pussy once more, after I’d conked out. If he did, I hope it made him happy.

  When I awoke in the morning, I remembered my realization about Jaxson’s self-absorption. After I got ready to leave, I told him goodbye, with no expectation of talking to him again. He seemed surprised and fumbled with words, asking me to reconsider and stay.

  “You don’t want me, Jaxson, you want the status quo,” I told him. “Unfortunately, you destroyed that months ago, and, try though we have, it’s definitely going to remain in the past.”

  “That’s not true, Natalie, I want you. I need you. Think about last night. We’re so good together. We’re compatible fuckers,” he actually smiled sheepishly at that comment.

  “We are compatible fuckers,” I agreed, “but that’s not all I’m looking for. I’ll call you to let you know I got there okay. I’d prefer that you don’t call me.”

  “What am I supposed to do?” He asked, truly uncertain.

  “Study. Find someone who’s willing to go where you go, do what you want, be whomever you want her to be. You could start with Gloria.”

  It was a mean thing to say. As far as I could tell, he had tried to fix things. But I was pissed about the night before, despite the sex, and I was simply ready to move on. I was glad to be going so far away. A little scared, but glad.

  He just stood there. I pecked him on the cheek and skipped down the steps to my car. I was more than ready to move on. A little piece of me doubted my ability to handle the move alone; I hoped I was making the right decision.

  By the time I was fifty miles past the Hudson River, the excitement of the first part of the long drive had already worn off and I continued numbly, interminably west. My thoughts drifted back to the last two days with Jaxson. I still needed to definitively sort the last of that out, and I was determined to not revisit it once I’d arrived in River’s Edge.

  As I’ve mentioned, Jaxson had another full year at school; his BSE in Chemical Engineering was a five-year program in the best of times. Even after catching him with Gloria, even after I forced him to realize that things would never be the same, Jaxson thought I should have chosen to be with him, meaning live close to if not with him until he finished.

  Of course, even if his infidelity hadn’t happened, we’d just be delaying where to go for one more year, and there was an open question as to whose career would ultimately drive our decision. Even before the blow-up, I was uncomfortable letting him have that kind of influence over me at that point in time, and this early in my adult life. That became particularly true after I caught him with Gloria.

  I liked Jaxson, I really did; he was flawed but human. I have my flaws too. The problem was that we weren’t compatibly flawed.

  When I’d told him I’d accepted the River’s Edge Biotech job and was definitely moving 650 miles away, he’d begun a full-frontal attack on my plans, using everything he could think of to try to persuade me to stay. When spring came and I’d mostly convinced him that I was going through with my plans, I could feel him begin to pull back from me, then try to persuade me to stay, then pull back again. That kind of hurt, though I should have expected it. I initially told him I was willing to reconsider when he finished next year, but that wasn’t helpful. What I’d hoped was that, if we were meant to be together in spite of my misgivings, he’d find a chemical engineering job near River’s Edge next year. There are over three million people in that growing area, so there’s plenty of opportunity.

  Given the situation when I left UConn, I’m certain that we’ll never make it to that point.

  For almost a year though, we’d been good together. Sure, he could be glaringly self-centered, but he was the dom in our relationship and, by and large, I expected him to be that way. Hones
tly, I did. Even that last night, as we continued to stretch the emotional bonds we shared to near-breaking, I still felt safe, warm and contented in his arms.

  I simply couldn’t trust him. That was the bottom line, and I finally knew it with certainty.

  Given that realization, I made peace with the fact that it was over. About twelve hours after I left, I arrived in River’s Edge.

  **********

  I spent the first night in a nice hotel on the outskirts of town, courtesy of my employer-to-be. Before I turned in, I called Jaxson as a courtesy, to let him know I’d arrived. He wasn’t there so I left a message. At that point, my responsibilities and agreements were satisfied. I determined to put my old life behind me.

  The next morning was sunny and bright. My spirits were as moist as the dew on the grass, and as brilliant as the sun in the cloudless sky of River’s Edge. I’ll admit it, I’m one of those eternal optimists, even when I’m a scared, uncertain one. Maybe, as they sang in that old movie, South Pacific, I’m a cock-eyed optimist.

  It hadn’t felt so much that way when my parents were both killed in that awful crash, but eventually, and probably in less time than I’d thought it would take, I bounced back. Post-Jaxson, I’d bounce back too.

  It was mid-June and here I was, alone in a pleasant though peculiar town on the edge of a sprawling urban, suburban and exurban area in one of the states bordering the Great Lakes. My furniture and personal possessions had arrived yesterday and were supposed to be unloaded this morning. Today, a Sunday, would be my first day in my newly-rented house in River’s Edge.

  After some self-pampering in the tub, followed by a perfect shower, I felt great! Fresh, new and ready to take on the world. I finished my hair and make-up, loaded my things into my overnight bag, and left the room.

  I checked out of the hotel. Using my GPS, I headed for the small house I’d rented on the other side of River’s Edge. I was passing a very pretty, open-air shopping center when it happened.

  On the far side of the intersection and to my left, a middle-aged woman, in late-spring shorts and sleeveless top, was slowly crossing the street with one end of a long, white cane held against her cheek or neck on the right side, and the other end tapping the street between the crosswalk lines. I remember a yellow, diamond sign saying something like, “Stop for (silhouette of a person with a cane) in crosswalk.”

  The woman was barely a quarter of the way across the intersection of the wide street. I had plenty of time and room to continue through the intersection and the crosswalk, before she’d get within 15 feet of me. So I went on ahead.

  I hadn’t gotten more than a few hundred yards beyond the crosswalk, when I saw blue lights flashing in my rearview mirror. Oh … that’s just great! I thought.

  Remembering my dad’s instructions from over six years ago, when he was teaching me to drive, I kept my hands on the wheel where the policeman could see them, sat back, and waited.

  I got cited for not stopping for the woman, of course. The cop was clearly angry with me, and I got the distinct feeling that he was actually trying to suppress some of his anger. It was as though I’d done something horrendous, but he didn’t want me to know how awful he thought I was.

  I apologized profusely as he handed me my ticket and walked away. It was for THREE HUNDRED AND FIFTY DOLLARS! I almost jumped out of the car to scream at him. Remembering how my dad had told me to act around policemen or policewomen when he taught me to drive, I just swallowed hard and drove on to my new house. I found out later that he could have fined me up to five hundred dollars!

  I wish that had been my only run-in with River’s Edge’s finest. Alas, it was not to be.

  The movers were carrying my things into the house when I arrived. I spent the entire day getting enough assembled and put away so that I could stay there somewhat comfortably, a mind-numbing task if ever there was one. I was fortunate that I didn’t have that many possessions yet. Nevertheless, it took me the rest of the day and all of the next to get the house in order.

  **********

  The next night, my second in my new home in River’s Edge, it was dark, well-past midnight, and raining cats and dogs. I’d put everything away and had even made a list of what I needed to buy tomorrow for the house, and pick up at the supermarket tonight, before I called it a day.

  I looked on the internet and found a 24-hour Kroger’s less than a mile from my house. I got into my car and headed out, determined to buy bacon, eggs, croissants, yogurt, coffee, and any other yummy stuff I could find in about half an hour. It was late, after all. I got drenched running to my car, which was parked on the street out in front of my rented house. I suppose I should have put this off until morning, but I was looking forward to getting up and being able to eat something while I leisurely lingered over coffee.

  There were no cars … and I mean NO CARS in the supermarket lot. It was still pouring down rain so I parked in the pick-up/drop-off lane next to the store and ran in. Even with parking that close, my feet and sandals got soaked so I grabbed a small cart and stopped first in the women’s room by the now-closed pharmacy to dry off my feet. While I was there I thought I’d take care of business. There were three stalls but I like a little more room so I popped into the handicapped stall. How did I know that was the handicapped stall? The wheelchair icon and a sign on it that said something like, “This stall provided for use only by the handicapped.”

  Oh come on – the store was practically empty, and no one else had been anywhere near the restroom when I went inside.

  I took me a little longer than I’d expected. I finished, unlatched the door, and stepped into the restroom. There, to my surprise, sat an attractive, female police officer in a wheelchair, her hat and jacket soaking wet. She looked at me with intense, steel-gray eyes and an expression of disappointment.

  “Wait outside the door,” she told me. “We need to talk. I suggest you be there when I come out. I’m pretty sure I have your license plate number.”

  I washed my hands and waited as I’d been instructed. I couldn’t believe that I’d messed up with the police in River’s Edge again! And a handicapped officer to boot!

  She finally emerged, told me to go move my car to a legitimate parking place, and then come back inside with my license and registration. She knew, somehow, that I was the one parked in a no parking zone. To make things worse, there was an ambulance pulled up right behind my car. Apparently one of the night shift workers had become ill. That made my parking there problematic for them to get close to the door, because of how the sidewalk was shaped. Uh-oh!

  “Visiting from Connecticut?” She asked me when I came back inside the store, now really wet from the incessant rain, and handed her my documents.

  “No, Ma’am,” I said, trying my best to be polite. “I just graduated from college and moved to River’s Edge two days ago to take a job.”

  “My check of your license plate showed that you had a moving violation yesterday? Failure to yield to a blind person in a crosswalk? Don’t they teach you in Connecticut about obeying the law when you’re driving?”

  “I’m sorry Ma’am. I thought the blind woman was so far away that I could proceed safely.”

  “I know those signs. They say, ‘Stop for handicapped person in crosswalk.’ They don’t say, ‘Stop if a handicapped person is near you in crosswalk,’ do they?”

  “No Ma’am. I screwed up.”

  “You seem to be on a losing streak here. Not only did you park illegally, which ended up blocking an emergency vehicle, you then proceeded to use a handicapped stall in the restroom when one: the sign said it was only for handicapped use, and two: there were two other, empty stalls besides!”

  I was completely deflated. I’m really not a bad person, nor an inveterate screw-up. I stared at the ground and mumbled something about being sorry and ashamed.

  “Ms. Adams, you do know what kind of community River’s Edge is, do you not?”

  “Yes Ma’am. It has a high-percentage disabled p
opulation.”

  “Yes, and at about 40 percent, it’s the highest in the country except for a few retirement communities. We take treatment of the disabled very seriously here. That’s why one of the three stalls in there is reserved for the handicapped. That’s one third of the stalls for more than one third of the population. And because of the concentration of others like me, we have an ordinance, clearly displayed, that holds those stalls for those who can only use them.

  “If it were busy in there and you had an urgent need, I could probably give you a break on this, but the place was empty! All the stalls were clean and functional!”

  “Yes Ma’am. I’m very sorry.”

  “Ms. Adams, you put a blind person in danger, you parked illegally and blocked an emergency vehicle, and you violated the state’s Disabled Citizens Act and a city ordinance about handicapped facilities. All in a day and a half! And by your own admission, you’ve been here only two days!”

  She pulled out her ticket pack and started writing two citations. The first was for illegal parking - $250! The other was $100 for using the handicapped facility. So I’d managed to run up $700 in fines since I got to River’s edge. Then, to make it worse, she told me I’d have to appear in court, since I had more than one citation in a 12-month period!

  I wanted to go crawl in a hole. Terribly embarrassed, I apologized over and over until she told me to go get my groceries and be more careful in the future.

  “I’m sure I’ll see you around River’s Edge, Ms. Adams. I hope the circumstances are more pleasant.”

  I decided to do my shopping while I was there – the shopping had already cost me $350 and I hadn’t even bought anything yet! I went home more upset with myself than with River’s Edge, but I wasn’t very happy about my new hometown either.