by Rizer, Bibi
Instead I find him face down on my sheets, wearing nothing but batman boxers, fast asleep. I’m a little insulted until I step around the bed and use my powers of investigation to surmise the series of events since he left me in the shower.
Mauly is curled up in the crook of his shoulder, looking his usual irresistible self. Many times I’ve been on my way to do something else and found myself stopping to give him a scratch. So Charlie fell prey to Mauly’s charms, lying down for a quick snuggle before succumbing to the exhaustion that is also weighing on me.
They look a picture–so adorable if I had the energy, I would get out my art supplies and sketch them for posterity. Instead I sigh, and Mauly, who as usual is only pretending to be asleep, looks up at me, his eyes squinted into a cat smile. He lifts one paw and lays it on Charlie’s sleeping face as if to say, yes, keep this one.
“I’m going to try, Mauly.”
I slip on some fuzzy pajamas and climb in beside them, pulling the quilt over us. Charlie stirs as I nudge Mauly out of the way.
“Oh, God,” he says as he opens his eyes and sees me. “I fell asleep. I’m so sorry.”
“What did I say about apologizing without being told to?”
Charlie smiles drowsily and rolls over, pulling me to rest my head on his shoulder.
We lay there, curled together, listening to the radiator gurgle and the faint sound of drunken singing drifting up from the street.
“Nice boxers, by the way,” I say.
“Thanks. They’re my favorites.”
“Why did you put boxers on anyway? Wasn’t the plan for more sex?”
“I didn’t feel right cuddling your cat naked. I barely know him.”
Sometimes when I’m tired and I start giggling, I can’t stop. This is one of those times. And apparently Charlie has the same problem. There are tears streaming down both our faces by the time we calm down.
“Do you want more sex?” Charlie wipes his eyes. “I think I could manage it if you get on top.”
“That’s a very nice offer, and don’t take this the wrong way, but all I really want right now is sleep.”
Charlie’s eyes are already closed when he answers. “Okay, good. Me too…”
Mauly starts to purr. That combined with my neighbor massacring “Auld Lang Sine” in the driveway, somehow works like a lullaby, and soon I’m floating in that beautiful almost asleep world where everything is bliss, before tumbling into the dark.
Hours later, with the golden sunshine of a New Year streaming through my curtains, I wake up alone. No man. No cat. I sit up and look around, blinking away the fuzziness of such a deep sleep. As I move, I feel the twinge of pain from my scabby bruised knees.
Not a dream then. That’s something. But I guess Charlie is gone anyway.
Then I feel another twinge of pain, this time somewhere in the region of my heart.
The whole point of an epiphany is that you don’t expect it. So while I’m thinking I’ll have a little cry, then get up and drink my last Diet Coke, clean the cat box and maybe read a book while I wait for the inevitable call from my mother, it hits me. The Great New Year’s Epiphany that’s been eluding me since I was fifteen years old:
If you fuck someone and then walk away from them, that doesn’t make you a bad person.
Wow. Fifteen-year-old me is shaking her head in amazement. He was just a guy from school I liked, and it was just a New Year’s Eve party. We were a little drunk and my friends had dared me and just because he never spoke to me again, doesn’t make him evil. And it doesn’t make me a loser. Not everyone has a fairytale first time. He was fifteen years old too, for God’s sake. Probably just as scared and embarrassed as I was. In the grand scheme of bad New Year experiences, that one is pretty low down on the list. Well below being kidnapped by a drug dealer, for example. Below getting ditched by my dad. Maybe just above the head lice.
It’s a relief letting that go, and that’s a fact. I feel fifty pounds lighter. And Charlie, wherever he is, I hope it’s not weighing on him either. We had an epically bad night. It would take a superhero to wake up from that and not run screaming into the streets when the sun came up. That makes me think fondly of his Batman boxer shorts. I lay back, smiling up at the ceiling.
“What are you so happy about?” Charlie, tousle-headed, wearing my kimono like a sarong and holding two coffee cups, stands in the bedroom doorway with the midday sun shining on his bare chest.
Jesus H. Christ in a chicken basket–he’s beautiful.
“You’re here.” I say after admiring him for a few seconds. “You’re still here.”
“Where did you think I’d be?”
“I don’t know. Kwajalein Island.”
“Where’s that?”
“It’s a long story.”
He sets one of the coffee cups on the bedside table, before clambering onto the bed with his own coffee and sitting cross legged beside me.
“I like stories,” he says. “Tell me all your stories. I have all the time in the world.”
I scooch up and take a sip of the best cup of coffee I’ve ever tasted, thinking if it’s stories he wants, maybe I’ll start with the story about getting kidnapped on New Year’s Eve.
That one, at least, has a happy ending.
The end.
If you enjoyed this book please consider taking the time to leave a review. You can also keep up to date with Bibi Rizer’s latest publications at her website BibiRizer.com
Watch out for the next book in the The Fireworks Series – Objectify Me, coming Spring 2015.