Cutting Cords

by Mickie B. Ashling

  “Why not drop him? I don’t want you wasting your time on a lost cause.”

  “I’ve already decided to do just that, except whenever I see him, I have this terrible urge to jump his bones. He does things to my body I can’t control.”

  “God. You really do like him, don’t you?”

  “I don’t think I’d call it that. It’s more like a fatal attraction thing. I know he’s not good for me, yet I keep thinking about him. It’s dumb and I should move on.”

  “Haven’t you met anyone at school?”

  “I’ve met a few people. Tin models on the side, and he invited us to watch another one of his photo shoots. I thought you might like to see it.”

  “Tin?”

  “He’s got some fancy French name that I shortened for expediency. Etienne or some shit like that.”

  Emily laughed. “You haven’t changed at all.”

  “You’d be disappointed if I became a pillar of society.”

  “No, you’d be,” Emily retorted. “We can’t all be Freddie Mercury, Sloan. Some of us have to be in the audience.”

  “I’m not good at that. I like to make things happen.”

  “I know. So, where are we meeting this guy?”

  I stood and pulled her up. “Come on. We’re meeting uptown at the Carnegie Deli.”

  “I’m not hungry.”

  “Don’t matter. That’s where the photo shoot will be.”

  “At a deli?”

  “Stop with the third degree and just follow me.”

  “Okay.”

  We left the apartment and walked a couple of blocks to the stairs that would lead us down to the subway. Cole was standing there with that older guy again, the blind one with the cane. Now I was really curious about him, since this was twice I’d seen them together.

  “Hey, Cole,” I greeted him. He looked startled when he heard my voice, even a little guilty, if that’s possible. Almost like he wished I’d never seen him.

  “Sloan,” he said, nodding.

  “This is Emily,” I said, waiting for him to say something about his companion.

  “Nice to meet you.” Cole’s reply was wooden and unfriendly.

  “You too,” Emily said, stretching out a hand and waiting a few moments until Cole finally took it and greeted her formally.

  “John,” Cole said, turning to the older man. “This is my roommate Sloan Driscoll and his friend Emily.”

  “John Butterman,” he said, reaching out, clasping my hand, and shaking it forcefully. “I’ve heard a lot about you.”

  “Oh? Good stuff, I hope.”

  He grinned and nodded, “What else?”

  He seemed like a nice enough man. I was dying to know who he was and why he was with Cole. “Are you guys in a class together?” I threw that out, hoping I’d get some answers.

  “You could say that,” he replied.

  “Where?”

  “We’ve got to go,” Cole interrupted. “Ready, John?”

  He took John’s arm and they walked up the stairs, leaving me and Emily watching their backsides.

  “That’s Cole? You didn’t tell me he had a problem with his eyes.”

  “What?” I looked at her like she’d just grown another head.

  15

  WE WERE finally on the train heading uptown when I turned to Emily and asked, “What was that about Cole’s eyes?”

  “I don’t think he can see as well as you or me. Does he wear contacts?”

  “He used to wear thick glasses when he was a kid, so I’m assuming he wears contacts; I just haven’t seen any of the paraphernalia in the bathroom.”

  “Huh… that’s weird.”

  “Why weird?”

  “Because,” Emily replied, looking very confused, “if he wore contacts, you’d see the bottles of cleaning solution. Trust me; I have one entire shelf devoted to that stuff. Didn’t you notice the way he groped for my hand when I had it stretched out for the handshake?”

  “No.” I looked at her like she was nuts. “I wasn’t paying attention.”

  “And who is that blind man?”

  “How the hell should I know?”

  “You don’t know very much about him, do you?”

  “I know that he moans when he’s about to come, and he makes these cute little grunting noises while he’s fucking me. I also know he’s cut and dresses to the right. What else would you like to know?”

  Emily looked at me in surprise, her lips forming a big O just before she covered her mouth and started to giggle. “You’re terrible!”

  “Sorry,” I apologized, never taking the smile off my face.

  “You’re a piece of work, Sloan.”

  “I know. Do you think Cole’s hot?”

  “Oh, yeah. Major hottie.”

  I was grinning at her like a loon. “He’s gorgeous.”

  “I think you should forget about him, though. He’s got issues.”

  “Don’t we all?”

  “Come on, Sloan,” Emily said, suddenly serious. “I’m not getting good feelings about him.”

  “Why?”

  “I have no idea. I just sense trouble.”

  “You’re reading too much into this, Em; besides, I’ve moved on. You’ve got to meet this guy I’m about to introduce you to. He looks just like Freddie Mercury.”

  “Ewww.”

  “What? Freddie was awesome.”

  “He had a great voice, but I wouldn’t call him cute.”

  “You’re just saying that ’cause you’re a girl.”

  “No. I acknowledged that Cole is hot, didn’t I?”

  “You’d have to be dead not to notice his hotness.”

  “You really find him irresistible, don’t you?”

  “Don’t want to discuss him anymore.”

  “No, you’d rather just fantasize about him in private.”

  “It’s not a fantasy, Em. I can have sex with him whenever I want.”

  “I know you can, but you’ll be pouring salt on an open wound.”

  I cringed when she said that. If she only knew that she was talking literally and not metaphorically, she’d flip.

  “Hey! I’ve been making an effort to turn my life around.”

  “I know, Sloan, and I’m impressed. I never thought you’d make it on your own, let alone get a scholarship.”

  “Yes, I have hidden talents you know nothing about.”

  “And I really don’t want to hear about them,” Emily said with an eye roll.

  “You’re no fun at all. Come on, this is our stop.”

  I dragged her by the hand and exited the train, winding my way out of the subway labyrinth up toward 57th Street. I had never been to the Carnegie Deli, so I had no idea what to expect. The place was filled to capacity and I saw Tin sitting at a table with Max. He waved to catch my eye.

  “Hey.” I acknowledged everyone with a nod. “This is Emily. Em, this is Max and my friend, Tin.”

  The guys stood and pulled out a chair for her. I grabbed my own. “So, what are you doing here?”

  “Taking pictures of food,” Max replied.

  There was a plate in front of him with something that could pass for a sandwich. Two pieces of bread heaped with slices and slices of red meat. It was grotesque and made me want to hurl. The ironic part about my quest for the perfect body was that I was naturally inclined toward lean meats and salads. My only indulgence on the fat and carbohydrate scale was pizza.

  “What the hell are you eating?” I asked, really disturbed by the sight of that red stuff.

  “This is the pastrami sandwich that made this place famous.”

  “Are you going to eat the whole thing?” The horror on my face must have been pretty obvious because Max burst out laughing. “Don’t tell me you’re a vegan?” he asked.

  “No, but that sandwich would make me consider it. Do you have any idea how many cows died to cover that platter?”

  “Enough.”

  “Why are you taking pictures of this, Max? I t
hought you only did people.”

  “I do whatever they pay me to do.”

  “Is anyone going to model anything today? I thought it would be fun for Emily to see an actual photo shoot.”

  “Come to my studio after we finish our food. I have to do a shoot for Abercrombie.”

  “Shit! With all the hot guys?”

  “Yup.”

  “We’re coming,” I announced, nodding at Emily. “Right?”

  She blinked at me. “For sure.”

  I ordered a chicken salad for myself and a Reuben for Emily. Max insisted that she have something Jewish to commemorate her visit, and we asked for the child portion in the hopes that it would be more manageable.

  “Why are you so quiet?” I asked Tin. He hadn’t said much since we sat down.

  “I’m nervous.”

  “About what?”

  “He’s part of the shoot later on and he’s freaking out over it,” Max replied with a mouthful of pastrami.

  “Why? You’re just as hot as anyone else out there.”

  “You think so?” Tin asked, uncrossing his legs and coming to life suddenly. “You don’t think I’ll get lost in the sea of gorgeous men?”

  “Oh, please. Take a Xanax and you’ll be fine.” I took a forkful of chicken salad and put it back down.

  “What’s wrong with it?” Max asked, apparently watching my every move.

  “Too much mayo.”

  “You sure are fussy,” he said, shaking his head. “No wonder you’re so thin.”

  “Fuck you, Max.”

  “Hey! I’m surrounded by people with body image problems. Yours aren’t anything special.”

  “Who said I have a problem?” I was starting to get really ticked off. How dare he put me in a category with his bulimic and anorexic models?

  “Don’t you? Then why won’t you let me photograph you? You have a face that was made for the camera, yet you resist me. Why?”

  “’Cause I’m not a narcissist, that’s why! I don’t need to see my face on the cover of GQ to feel special.”

  “I could make you a star,” Max declared, confident in his talent and his power.

  “Oh yeah? And what do I have to gain?”

  “I can give you the world, Sloan, whatever your fucking heart desires.”

  I was taken aback by that statement. When was the last time anyone had ever offered me the world? I know that no one in my family ever had; the fucking legal system was ready to take my world away if I had any more incidents with drugs, and the one man I thought might change my world wasn’t making any offers. Other than clandestine forays into his bed, Cole had offered nothing. He wanted to make me his personal whore, and I wasn’t willing to do it. When that realization hit home, I made up my mind.

  “I’ll let you take some headshots to start.”

  Max threw down his napkin and stood up. “Are you serious?”

  “Yeah,” I said, laughing at him and amazed that he was carrying on so. “What the fuck, man? I ain’t all that great.”

  “Wait till you see what I can do. Come on, let’s go.”

  Emily looked as shocked as I felt, but we all stood and followed Max to the register. He paid for everything with a credit card and left a twenty-dollar tip.

  We piled into a cab and drove off to Max’s studio in Tribeca.

  It was a hotbed of activity by the time we got there. Max’s assistant was running back and forth, talking on the phone attached to her ear via a Bluetooth. There were three young men who I assumed were also assistant photographers of some kind, setting up lights and rolls of white paper on every surface. All of that would have been impressive enough, but what really made my head spin off its axis were the four models who were hanging out, waiting for direction.

  Tin was right to be nervous, although I’d never tell him. Each guy was more beautiful than the next, and they must have been spray-painted with tanning solution, because they looked like they’d just come from a week in the Bahamas. They were platinum blonds with muscles that rippled as they moved. It took every ounce of willpower not to jump up and lunge at any one of them and beg to be allowed to lick them from head to toe.

  “You can watch from over there, Sloan,” Max said, pointing to a small sitting area that had a loveseat and two oversized easy chairs. There was a coffee table with stacks of magazines and a coffee machine with cups and the other condiments necessary to produce a cup of brew—a staple in the modeling industry, I’d come to find out. “I’ll get to you as soon as I’m done with these guys.”

  16

  COLE SPENT his Saturday practicing how to be blind. He was well aware his limited sight could last for years at this level, but he had to face the reality that tomorrow everything might change.

  He started by putting on a sleeping mask, one that Juliana had left the last time she’d slept at the apartment. She hated the morning sun and always wore a mask to bed. Sloan and Emily were gone, so Cole figured it would be the perfect time to do it.

  Learn to rely on your other senses. He kept hearing John’s words as if they would make it all better and act like the magic wand he needed. The sense of touch is a lifesaver. He thought about Sloan as he put the mask in place, making sure that all light was blocked.

  His hands had told him a lot about his roommate. He knew from touching his face that he was a good-looking man. His lips were well formed, his skin clear, his hair full and abundant. He had very long eyelashes that tickled Cole when he pressed his face close or nuzzled his neck. His sense of smell told him that Sloan was inherently a clean person and that he had good teeth, because his breath was always fresh. His touch confirmed the fact that Sloan was more lean than fat, and he might possibly have some patches of dry skin on his legs and arms that needed to be addressed. His touch also told him when Sloan was aroused, his organ a magnificent barometer of his desire.

  He groaned suddenly, feeling himself getting hard. The thought of Sloan’s cock sliding in and out of his mouth was pure torture, because he couldn’t assuage the hunger. He wasn’t big on masturbation, always finding it a poor excuse for the real thing; however, in this case, he had a feeling he’d be doing it a lot more. He thought about the last time they’d had sex. He wished he had mirrors in his room. He wished he could see the mirror and watch Sloan fuck him with abandon. He had to rely on his hearing to know when Sloan was enjoying himself. He would have much rather seen it with his eyes, but his vision could only handle a little bit at a time. A slight turn of his head left or right put him in a true blind spot where he saw nothing. If Sloan was not exactly in front of his face, Cole didn’t see him. Still, the little bit he did see was better than nothing. He could still appreciate Sloan’s beauty before everything disappeared from sight. Juliana’s smile was also something he could still see, although she wasn’t smiling much lately.

  He loved Juliana; there was no doubt about it. But he was no longer in love with her. Something had changed between them, something that had nothing to do with Sloan.

  Juliana wasn’t willing to adapt to his new situation. Her stubbornness in clinging to his past and her inability to admit that things were not the same had made him lose respect for her. He needed a partner who was up for the challenge that living with a disabled person would present. He didn’t think she could handle it. He wondered if things would still be the same if he’d never been diagnosed with RP. Would he still love her in the same way? He’d never know for sure, but what he did know was he no longer wanted to spend the rest of his life with her.

  How would he explain it to his father without causing him more grief? Everything that had happened to him in the last three years had disappointed Ken. He looked forward to this marriage and the possibility of a male grandchild the way other men looked forward to winning the lottery. Ken felt it was his last hope of ever seeing a Fujiwara back on the pitcher’s mound.

  Cole stood outside Sloan’s bedroom door. He fumbled with the handle, feeling his way around until he opened it and walked in. He knew
where everything was placed because he’d been the one to paint and decorate the room when he’d first moved in and could see better. He knew the bed was pushed off to the right to make more space in the middle. It was great until you had to change the bed sheets, and then it was a pain to move the bed back and forth. He sat on the bed for a minute and picked up a pillow, pressing it to his face. The smell was all he needed to take him straight to the subject he’d been avoiding.

  He was in lust with Sloan in a major way. All he could think about was the first time he’d entered his tight body. He had no idea it would be so good. His previous experiences with men had only involved blowjobs, never penetration of any sort. Now that he’d enjoyed a formerly forbidden pleasure, it was extremely difficult to get it out of his mind. But he’d been cut off, summarily rejected with a toss of Sloan’s beautiful head.

  You need to get your head out of your ass, before you can get back in mine.

  Those were Sloan’s exact words. Cole tried to explain how it could work, but Sloan wanted nothing to do with it. He now talked about moving. The only thing preventing him from doing so was that the truth would undoubtedly come out once their fathers started questioning them.

  He tossed the pillow aside with a sigh and left the room. He didn’t need any more reminders of Sloan. He was a constant ache in his gut that no amount of antacid could eliminate.

  He went to the kitchen and decided to make a meal. Sloan had mentioned that he and Emily would be back around five, so he could prepare something and have it ready for them. He wasn’t sure what Emily liked, but he had to cook what he was comfortable with, so he decided to make kamameshi, a simple rice dish with bits of vegetable and ground chicken, slow cooked in an iron pot. It would stay warm for hours and would provide a lot of nutrition since he could pick and choose his vegetables.

  Cole decided on mushrooms and sweet peas, along with diced onions and carrots. He had all the ingredients, so he took out the cutting board and went to the refrigerator and opened it. He still had the sleeping mask on, so he had to feel his way around. Cole pulled the crisper out and patted the packages, looking for the little box with the plastic wrap that contained the mushrooms he’d bought the other day. He found it easily, and the carrots and onion as well. He shut that drawer and pulled out the one on top that contained the meat. He knew there were two packages, one with ground beef and the other with ground chicken. He’d specifically asked the butcher to wrap the meat in paper and the chicken in plastic so he could differentiate between the two. He grabbed the chicken, feeling quite smug about his foresight.