More memories flooded back to Sarah just then, visions of body parts, sensations she had never experienced before, six hands on her flesh, moving her, taking her, three cocks releasing their seed into her orifices. And that, that was how she was certain that Matt was Abby’s father. He was the one who came inside of her. Besides, Abby looked like Matt. She had his light hair, skin and eyes. She had his disposition and build. Sarah took a deep breath and explained the rest of its story in its entirety, but as delicately as she possibly could.
Abby sat in silence absorbing the information, reconciling it with the conversation she’d overheard between her mother and Rachel, looking for inconsistencies. She just wanted the truth at this point. So many times she had reviewed that conversation in her mind, searching for her roots, wondering about the identity of this man who had contributed her other X chromosome. “So then what happened?” she asked, her voice small and thin.
“We never talked about that night again, not explicitly,” Sarah remembered. “We didn’t even tell the other guys what happened. After that, Matt went to visit his grandparents in Florida for a couple of weeks and then when we got back to school, things had changed. I never have been able to figure out exactly what went wrong. I missed my period. I remember telling him but he just shrugged and said...I will never forget...’that a slut like me probably didn’t even know who the dad was.’”
Abby leaned closer to her mother and put her hand on her knee, an uncharacteristically tender gesture for her. Her mother’s voice was quivering and her expression had grown dark. “He’d lost all respect for me after that night,” Sarah explained. “I was angry. So angry, Abby. I didn’t understand why men could go out and sleep with anything that moved and they would be considered a stud, but in one night of drunken, stoned debauchery I had earned my slut card? And trust me, that word did not have any positive connotations in 1995.”
Sarah cleared her throat and found the teachable moment. “Having sex does not make a person good or bad. Our bodies were designed for pleasure. If we make the choice to have sex it does not reflect poorly on us just because we are women. We should feel empowered by our decision to use our bodies in the way that they were designed. The important thing is making good choices, being safe, and choosing partners who respect and care for us. That was obviously my mistake,” she admitted.
A tiny shred of time passed while Abby internalized her mother’s words. Then she asked, “So Matt didn’t want anything to do with you after you told him?”
Sarah shook her head. “I think he really convinced himself that you weren’t his. He severed all ties with me and we both went about our senior years. I was living with some girlfriends off campus and he was living with his guy friends and our paths just didn’t cross. When he saw me at commencement, I had just reached my due date. He didn’t even speak to me. His eyes were as cold as ice.”
Sarah was instantly transported back to that day. Her mother sat in the audience with her brother Adam. The whole of Sarah’s support system was taking up two seats in the vast auditorium. Sarah, nine months pregnant, her black robe flowing out over her protruding abdomen marched in with her classmates, her feet so swollen she could hardly wear shoes. Her honors cords bounced against her heavy breasts with each step, and she caught sight of the eyes, the hundreds and maybe thousands of pairs of eyes that seemed to fixate on her girth. It took more strength and determination to walk across that stage to receive her diploma than it took to enter the delivery room a week later to have her labor induced.
“Abby, I know Matt is your dad. You look like him. You know you don’t look like me! You have his blue eyes and light hair, his freckles, his slight build, his stubbornness. I have no doubt. Trust me, this isn’t Mamma Mia all over again,” she laughed.
Abby nodded. She had seen pictures and the resemblance. Her mother had kept some memorabilia from her college days and there were shots taken of them together, Matt with his guitar and his arm around Sarah, looking young and vibrant and happy. “What if I wanted to get in touch with him?”
Sarah visibly stiffened. “I’m not sure it’s a great idea, but if you wanted to, I could see what I can do to make it happen.” She didn’t disclose that she had long ago tracked Matt down on Facebook and had even contemplated sending him a friend request so that they could catch up. In the end, she decided it had more potential for harm than good. What if he wanted custody of his daughter?
Abby finally excused herself and went back to the kitchen to fix herself a snack. Sarah went back to grading. She’d never quite been able to envision having that discussion with her daughter. It’s like the day would never come, she thought. Her conscience felt light and airy as she contemplated how this newly discovered information would influence the path Abby would journey in life.
***
On Tuesday, Sarah sat in her office, her Pandora station cranking out “November Rain,” all too appropriate given that the skies were clenched with tight gray clouds and spitting out rain so cold it was on the verge of becoming ice crystals. The last few hours of the month were fading into the history books. She was working on a proposal for a new book, a departure from the normal heavy academic and theoretical stuff she typically wrote. This book would be for the masses, a book about dating, relationships and alternative lifestyles on college campuses based on all the interviews and research Sarah had compiled throughout the years. She was contemplating how to phrase a certain idea when her phone chimed.
The number did not belong to any of her current contacts. The text simply said, “I’m back in commission.”
She knew it was James and her body physically responded to the thought of him before her mind could command it to be still. Her trembling fingers erased the text and she went on with her thoughts.
***
Chapter Ten
Tied Up With Red Bows
There were no more texts from that number. Finals were on the horizon, Sarah’s book proposal was due to the publisher by December fifth, and Pawel was preparing to spend the holidays in Poland. He’d been a bit clingy, wanting to see her several times a week. She might have been annoyed, but under the present circumstances, she found it nice to be wanted. Some nights they would just sit in the stillness of her living room grading papers by the light of the fireplace while Abby and Owen slept upstairs. She had finally introduced him to the kids, just as her “colleague, Dr. Kowalczyk,” and having met so many of her colleagues through the years, they were completely unfazed.
Ah, there’s nothing more romantic than grading papers together by the fire, she joked to herself one night from her armchair, a plaid fleece blanket thrown over her legs for additional warmth. She was reviewing her students’ rough drafts for their senior seminar research projects. Her hand was cramping from all the comments and suggestions she crammed into the margins. She was particularly pleased with Emma Knightley’s research on bisexuality that they had discussed earlier in the semester. She noticed Emma had cited an article that Sarah published on the topic the prior year. Reveling in that warm sensation she felt when students managed to impress her, she glanced over at Pawel who was sprawled out on her couch. The book he was reading was on the verge of slipping out of his hands as he began to doze off, his black plastic-rimmed glasses sliding off the bridge of his nose.
Sarah studied him as he drifted further and further into an REM cycle. She could see his eyes twitching beneath their lids. His face looked so peaceful. His wavy graying hair had been pushed behind his ear and stubble was starting to emerge in the follicles outlining where his beard would be. His nose was long and featured a slight bump, and his bottom lip was much fuller than the top. It was one of his most striking features and always made Sarah want to nibble on it. When she kissed him, she liked to draw his bottom lip between her teeth and gently chew on it.
Despite his age, Pawel was one of those people who stayed in amazing shape without ever setting foot in a gym. He had long, lean limbs and sinewy muscles. As much as she hated to compare lo
vers, she thought about James’ thick frame and bulky muscles and resisted admitting that she preferred the latter. Something about James’ size made her feel so delicate and feminine, even though she was quite sturdy in her curvy 5’5” 160 pound frame. Next to Pawel’s tall, lithe body she always felt much too short and rubenesque.
Before she could do any more comparing, her phone rang with Rachel on the line. Sarah had not really spoken with her best friend since James pulled his mysterious disappearing act the weekend before. She preferred to avoid explaining the situation to Rachel for as long as possible as she would undoubtedly tell her she had overreacted. “Hello?” Sarah answered, trying to sound perky for 11:32 PM.
“You never returned my calls!” Rachel wasted no time reading her the riot act. “What the fuck is going on with you, woman?”
Sarah inadvertently let out a sigh. “Well, it’s just my crunch time, you know. Grading. Exams. Yada yada,” she explained, hoping it was convincing enough.
“Bullshit,” Rachel accused, over-pronouncing the T at the end. “Come on, out with it, lady. Is it the Smart Guy or GI Joe? Which Y chromosome is giving you trouble?”
Sarah had to laugh. There was no escaping Rachel’s intuition. This woman knows me better than anyone on the planet, so I might as well confess. “Alright, it’s James,” Sarah admitted. “It’s over. And honestly, Rachel, I think it’s for the best, so I really don’t want to dissect it all right now, okay? It’s late. I should be going to bed soon.”
Rachel grunted her disapproval. “Come on, just give me the executive summary. And for the record, I was looking forward to our threesome!”
“How are things with you and Jack?” Sarah inquired, trying to divert Rachel’s attention away from the James Situation.
“Oh, come on,” Rachel replied. “You don’t seriously think I’m going to fall for that, do you? That’s like the oldest trick in your book!”
Sarah was defeated. “Okay, fine,” she conceded. “Last weekend he was supposed to have me over for dinner and I waited and waited and heard nothing. Finally he showed up at my house late acting really weird and telling me he couldn’t stay... something about his phone was broken and he got called into work.”
“Go on,” Rachel directed when Sarah paused.
“Okay, so I sensed there was really something else going on cause he acted so weird,” Sarah explained. “Anyway, I just started thinking about him after he left, and how disappointed I was to see him go. I mean like it physically affected me...I felt hollow and broken.”
Sarah noticed that Pawel had begun to snore so she walked into the kitchen still holding the phone. Rachel said the words Sarah didn’t want to hear her say, “Oh my god, Sarah, you really fell for him, didn’t you?”
Those words suddenly brought the emotions flooding back to her along with the accompanying tears stinging at the corners of her eyes. She had forced herself to turn off the waterworks three days ago. Why am I starting this up again? It’s like I have absolutely no control over my body’s response to him, she panicked. His power over me is so. fucking. scary.
Rachel’s tone changed as she transitioned into empathetic, comforting friend mode. “Oh, honey, I’m so sorry. So that was it? You never heard from him again?”
Sarah grabbed a paper towel from the dispenser near the sink and dabbed gently at her wet cheeks. “He texted me on Tuesday.”
“So did you guys try to talk things out?” Rachel asked, a tiny ounce of hope rising to the surface of her voice.
“No,” Sarah replied. “I never texted him back.”
“WHAT?!” Rachel shrieked. “Why the fuck not? What’s wrong with you?!”
Sarah nearly laughed at her friend’s response, it was so dramatic. How do I make her understand this? she wondered. She’d been trying to make sense of this situation all week and it simply boiled down to avoiding rejection. As strong and independent as Sarah was, she feared rejection more than anything else, yet she was secure enough to admit it.
She took a deep breath, “I know he doesn’t love me, Rachel. He’s just hanging out with me to have someone to play with,” she explained. “I’m a toy he takes out once a week, plays with, and then puts back in his toy box till next time.”
“Whoa,” Rachel balked at that description. “You are so far off base!” Sarah could nearly see her friend shaking her head in disagreement through the phone line.
“Whatever,” Sarah replied, losing the energy to argue. “You met him one time. What do you know?”
“I saw the way he looked at you,” Rachel said. “And he didn’t look at you like you were just a toy to amuse him. Trust me, there is something more there. Something deeper.”
A tingle crawled up Sarah’s spine. What if I made a huge mistake?
***
That night, despite being curled up with Pawel, Sarah’s willpower lost out to the desire to broadcast The James Channel throughout her mind. She remembered the day she spent at Rachel’s consoling her over the loss of Mark, who had, without much foresight, decided to abandon Rachel to pursue a relationship with “Porn Girl.” Sarah knew Mark would come crawling back, and her intuitions were confirmed. Then she remembered how she left Rachel’s house that day promising to guard herself against falling for any men who weren’t right for her, for men who lacked the depth, maturity and stability to enter into a healthy relationship with her. That oath sure went out the window, she sighed.
Sarah always maintained that her worst decisions in life were a result of not having a plan. Therefore, she found it crucial, especially now that she had found her footing and was pursuing the path she desired in life, that she formulate a rock solid plan. Her Plan for Love was simple: don’t fall in love with jackasses. She had made that mistake with both Abby’s father and Owen’s father and although she had made a lot of progress toward recovery, she was still paying for both mistakes emotionally. Since then she had developed Very Fond Feelings for several men, but had never quite jumped the hurdle to the L Word with any of them.
That’s probably why it freaked me out so much to realize I had L-wordy type feelings for James, she considered. I’d resisted it so long, and had particularly resisted having them for the wrong type of guy. But with James it all seemed beyond my control. She stopped chastising herself for allowing her mind to pursue this line of questioning, knowing she needed to get this straightened out, or she was doomed to repeat the same mistakes. James is the wrong type of guy, isn’t he? she questioned.
She enumerated his negatives: He’s young, he’s military, he’s never been married, he doesn’t have kids, which were all excellent reasons to avoid serious involvement. She realized now that when she first met him and felt the initial attraction, one of the things that made him so appealing was that he seemed “deliciously unripe.” He was so opposite of the men she sought that he seemed safe to become involved with. After all, I’d never compromise what I was looking for with someone so entirely unsuitable, right? Sarah asked, rolling her eyes in her own general direction, reeling at how she’d underestimated the power of an unprecedented physical connection. Not to mention how easy it is to make the leap from a physical to emotional connection when all the right ingredients are there, she considered. Talk about a recipe for disaster. Next she asked the tough question: Is it his unsuitability and unavailability that make him overwhelmingly desirable to me?
Before she could answer that, her subconscious lost patience with her indecisiveness and decided to totally shut down. She drifted to sleep and managed to stumble into a dream episode - which seemed already in progress - where she flitted beside a mountain stream, happy as a lark. It was the happiest mountain dream she’d had in a long time.
***
The week crept on. Sarah needed to hand back all the rough drafts of the senior seminar research projects so that the finished products could be submitted during finals week. She was proud of her students’ research. There were several compelling ideas, and she was impressed with the quality of the work as
well, particularly Emma’s paper. It was fortunate she that she could relish positive feelings about her senior students because it sort of made up for the lackluster research papers her Sociology of Gender students had turned in. She was shaking her head thinking about the complete butchery of literature reviews as she walked across campus to her office from her Friday morning class.
The weekend is rapidly approaching, she thought as she lumbered up the concrete steps. Her joints felt stiff as she realized how long it had been since she’d worked out any more intensely than hoisting a basket of laundry up the stairs. Her calendar was surprisingly free for the rest of the day, her 10 AM class being the last on the docket for the week. Her despised Friday afternoon-meeting curriculum committee had adjourned for the semester and now her only obligation involved some articles to review for the journal editorial board. She realized she might even be able to execute her exodus from campus early before the nasty beltway traffic wrapped its sticky tentacles around the metro area.
She remembered that she stashed her gym bag in her office earlier in the week, when she’d vowed to make an appearance at the university fitness center. She quickly resolved to make that happen today, her last opportunity before the close of the week. Finally stepping foot in her office, she didn’t even take the time to check her email or voicemail. She simply snagged the bag off the chair lodged between her bookcase and filing cabinet and headed back out the door.
It was a cloudless, nondescript early December day. The trees were nearly bare, and the sky was almost completely colorless. I would really prefer a more inspiring landscape, she thought as she crossed the quad. She imaged the great mountains rising in the west. She couldn’t see them of course, but she imagined them there, looming in the smoky mist at the horizon. She remembered how homesick she’d been at the beginning of the semester, wishing for her homeland, missing her mountains. She’d pushed those feelings aside so she could concentrate on the semester, but now that things were winding down, those desires were welling back inside of her. March, she thought, I have a conference back home in March. Three more months to go.
The Mountains Trilogy (Boxed Set) Page 14