by M. Mabie
First, where were those goddamned shoes going?
And, second, who was she going to meet?
Nora stepped around me and took my seat next to Blake.
I mouthed, “Thank you,” and she gifted me her perfect grin.
She didn’t know my sister. Hell, she barely knew me, but I liked how quick she was to help when she thought she could. I also liked how she’d made sure I was cool with her sharing her point of view before she dropped a bomb on my family.
“Okay, I know I’m going to be in the minority here, but this is what I think. How do I put this?” She glanced at the ceiling, and I wanted to lick her creamy neck.
Yes. How would she put it? I’d like to know, too.
She stalled, and I already felt like I was running out of time. She had other plans.
Stay focused, Reggie.
“Nora is polyamorous. She doesn’t believe in monogamy.” I refilled her glass. “Isn’t that right?”
She looked at me like I’d made a mistake, but I hadn’t. Like what I’d said was cruel, but she quickly put on her work smile and let it go. Was I wrong?
“I love how you pour my glass, thank you.”
Then she returned her attention to Blake, who watched us with a keen eye.
Nora spoke to her. “Blake, I understand what you are feeling. Do you love the robot?” Then she smiled and laughed, it was the big one. She was doing it for Blake’s benefit, trying to make her relax. “What’s his name?”
“Grant,” Blake and I answered.
She graciously blinked and nodded in my sister’s direction, “Right. Do you love Grant?”
I’d never heard Nora talk about love.
Lover. Lovers. But never love.
The word made her lips look more beautiful.
Blake made an unsure face, but answered, “Yes, I really do.”
Interesting.
“Are you curious about your feelings for Nobody?”
Blake answered with a slight nod, clearly confused with how she felt.
“You can be in love with more than one person at the same time, Blake.”
I corrected, “Some people can.”
She shot me a side eye, but went on, “Yes, some people, but you have to be very honest. About everything.”
We agreed on that.
“Tell Grant? No way. It would kill him,” my sister said, her voice raising two octaves. I watched Nora’s hand squeeze my sister’s, and I felt something heat in my chest.
“Then tell Nobody how you feel. You need to own up to it with someone—for yourself.”
She’d given my sister good advice. I hoped all three of us were listening to it. I took another drink.
“So do you think I’m polyamorous?” my sister asked, causing me to damn near spit my wine back into my glass.
“No,” I said and was surprised when Nora agreed.
“Why? I’m thinking about two men?”
Yes. I was curious why Nora say no, too.
Her eyes found mine, and it was like she was trying to tell me something, but I wasn’t sure what it was. She blinked slowly, took a breath as if she were preparing herself and asked Blake, “Can you picture either of them with another person and be happy for them?”
My insides pulled and tied themselves in knots. I didn’t want to picture her with anyone but me.
Did I want her happy? Yes. I wanted her happy with me.
“No,” my sister finally answered.
Same here.
“Then you aren’t polyamorous. It makes me happy to see my lovers with other people who make them feel good, both emotionally and physically. So, I side with your body, not your brain.”
Blake all but deflated, and I wanted to do the same.
“Reggie, what do you think?” my sister asked.
“Reggie?” Nora repeated, and her posture straightened. She was going to have fun with that.
Maybe Reggie to everyone else, but to you I’m Reagan.
I silently pleaded with her to drop it. I could only handle one of them at a time.
And in Blake’s case, I’d never seen Grant react to anything. He bored me to tears. The guy reminded me of a man who always had things his way, and that was that. What a dull life. I didn’t want that for Blake.
But, fuck, when I thought of it that way, it sounded a lot like me.
Am I being a hypocrite?
I didn’t want to be a robot. Who in the hell wanted to fuck a robot?
It was time for me to speak my mind, too. “Honestly, I don’t think that Grant would have ever run after you like I saw—”
“Casey,” she divulged.
“—Casey run after you. Did he know who I was?” He was a tall guy, but lean. If push came to shove, I’d shove harder.
“No,” she admitted, and realization swept across her face.
I looked at my watch, counting down minutes to some arbitrary time I didn’t know. The issue was finished for now, and as Blake cleaned up her dinner dishes, I prayed I’d still have a few minutes with Nora before she left.
I think she could feel it, too. We danced around each other until Blake excused herself to the guest room. As soon as I heard the door latch, I asked, “What are you doing tonight?”
Those shoes had taunted me long enough.
She tilted her head to the side before she spoke. She didn’t want to say. I could tell that in her hesitation.
“You already ate, so I know it’s not dinner. It’s a little late for a work thing.”
She crossed her arms. “I’m going out with some friends.”
Friends.
“Ives and Janel?” I inquired.
“And a few others,” she said nonchalantly while putting her plate into the sink.
It was getting late. My mind swam with sordid images of what they would be doing ... to her.
Ten.
“I’m going. I was just killing time because they’re running late.”
She started to walk to the door, but I caught her before she could open it, and I spoke to the back of her neck. The smell of a new perfume covered her nape. “Don’t go with them. I want to talk to you.”
“Reagan, we only talk in circles. I thought we were going to be friends.” She spun to face me and pressed her back against the wall to put distance between us.
I confessed, “I don’t want to be friends, and I don’t think you do either.”
“But nothing has changed.” Her voice sounded weak, tired.
But hadn’t it?
“What if it did?” I proposed.
Her eyes searched mine for a clue. I wanted to talk to her, to tell her I thought there was a compromise we were overlooking, but her running off—to be with friends—gave me a rush of panic.
Something hopeful swept over her face as she whispered, “Did it?”
I pleaded, which wasn’t something I was familiar with, but I was desperate. “Stay. We can talk about it. I know more now.”
Her eyes darted back and forth searching mine, understandably confused.
It wasn’t like me to back down. It wasn’t like me to ask for what I wanted. Yet, there I was practically begging. “Please, just stay.” I stepped closer, but still not close enough. I wanted her.
“Reagan, I can’t change who I am.”
“I know. Neither can I, but fuck it, Nora. Do you feel this?” I asked as I pushed my erection into her middle, the heels making her about my height. “I can’t be around you without wanting all of you. I can’t sit across from you anymore without wanting to know what you taste like. Feel like in my hands. It’s driving me mad.”
I can’t sit by and let you go out with them.
Nine.
Her face softened, my words were getting through.
“Please,” I repeated. “We’ll talk, you’ll see. This doesn’t have to be impossible.”
I heard the guest door open, and I was reminded we weren’t alone.
Eight.
Blake said, exhilaration evident in
her words, “I called him. He didn’t leave Chicago. He wants to meet with me. To talk. What should I do?”
I was in no shape to have a conversation with my sister. My dick was about to rip through my pants. I wandered behind the nearest thing I could find, a chair.
I didn’t want to push Blake into something that wasn’t right for her, but, additionally, I needed more time with Nora. Before she took off with them.
“Do you want to talk to him?” I asked hastily. It was up to her now.
I’m running out of time.
Seven.
“I really do,” she answered. “I think I’m going to see him. What’s your address?”
Was he coming here? Maybe Blake was leaving?
“750 Lake Shore Drive. Is he driving or sending someone for you?”
“He’s riding over in a cab to get me. We’re going back to his hotel. The Omni.”
That was a pretty good hotel, but I’d be looking more into this Casey guy later.
At the moment, I was working against the clock to get Nora to cancel her plans. The thought of her with them, before we could at least have a real talk, made my anxiety intensify.
They’re going to touch her.
Six.
“After you send him the message you’ll have about twenty minutes. I’ll meet you at the elevator in a few. I’m going to walk Nora to her place down the hall.”
They waved to each other, and Blake hurried back into the guest room, which I assumed she wouldn’t be staying in that night after all.
I grabbed Nora’s hand and led her out the door.
“Reagan, I’m sorry, but I have plans. I can’t just cancel because you’re jealous. We aren’t in a relationship,” she insisted.
I stopped.
That’s where she was wrong. We were.
New? Maybe, but there was definitely something starting. She didn’t have all the facts. And, admittedly, neither did I.
Perhaps, after I told her I was willing to try, she’d still not be interested. That was possible, but it didn’t feel like that.
I faced her in the hall, feet from her door. “Stop it. Go in there and cancel. We need to talk.”
“We’ll talk on Sunday.”
“No. We can’t. I can’t wait until Sunday.”
She pulled her hand from mine, and kept walking, but I followed and went into her apartment behind her.
“You can’t tell me what to do. You can’t just make some split decision so you can keep me from doing things you don’t like. That’s not how I live my life,” she shouted when the door closed.
Talk was cheap, and I was running out of time.
Five.
I reached for her hand and spun her into my arms. She didn’t resist, but it was kind of an impulsive move, and she didn’t have time to.
She looked me dead in the eye.
I leaned forward to kiss her.
She turned her face away, and I said into her ear, “Things changed.”
Her breath left her, and her hands fisted my shirt between us. She surged forward to kiss me, but reflexively I pulled back. It was still such a new feeling for me, someone taking what they wanted from me. Yet it was a sight, her lips coming for mine, and I knew I’d made a mistake.
“Doesn’t feel like anything changed,” she argued.
Face to face, all but kissing, we were still so damn stubborn. Still trying to defend ourselves from the other. From how we felt.
Blake would be coming down the hall any minute. I leaned in again, and again, she pulled back. Our mouths repelling one another.
I paired my forehead with hers. “Stay for me.” It wasn’t a demand, but a request.
I wanted her to do what I wanted because she trusted me. Because she wanted to. Not because I’d strong-armed her into it. I wanted a chance to tell her I was willing to compromise. Even if I might fail at it, I wanted a chance to try.
It was going to be a long conversation, and I knew it was going to be a lot of questions on both our parts, but I wanted a fucking shot.
“What happens when you realize this isn’t what you thought it was?” she asked softly, bringing her lips to mine, but not touching them.
The scent of the wine on her breath. The smell of her perfume. The way she fit against me.
I had to stop.
Four.
“I have to take Blake downstairs. Please. Please don’t go.” Wasn’t I already compromising? Wasn’t I already asking instead of telling? Couldn’t she see?
“I don’t know,” she held firm, but it wasn’t a no.
I loosened my grip around her waist and took a step back.
“This isn’t an ultimatum, but I won’t chase you, Nora. If you want to talk about this and see if this is something you want, then stay.”
I’d laid it out there.
She could take it or leave it.
Take me. Or leave me.
Three.
“What do I get out of it?” she asked.
“You get to try something new with me.”
Her face was impassive, and I began backing away.
God, don’t leave.
Two.
She looked like a statue. A beautifully torn angel frozen in thought as I got to the door. Before I walked out of it, her eyes met mine once more. Her questioning gaze begged for so many answers.
“It’s worth a fucking shot,” I said.
When I left her apartment, time kind of slipped away. I wanted to get back to her, but I was so damn nervous. I’d never in my life behaved that way.
I rode the elevator down with Blake to get another look at this Casey guy.
She said she liked Nora, too, but was there not to like? Besides the fact that I may never be enough for her.
I was going out of my mind, but wasn’t that exactly what I wanted for Blake? To have more than just a mild love with the robot. Additionally, I didn’t want to be the robot in my story either. I wanted to be the guy worth changing for.
To earn that, I’d have to change a little myself because, like I told Nora, it was worth it.
It was all new—hopefully, the beginning of something incredible—but already I knew we were worth fighting for.
EIGHTEEN
PRESENT
NORA—Saturday, September 18, 2010
Thinking about the beginning, I asked, “Remember when there was more in front of us than behind us?” We’d had no clue. No idea how wrong we’d been to even try because it always came back down to the two reasons it never worked.
He wanted a monogamous relationship, and I didn’t have a fucking clue how to promise him one.
We’d played games. Cat and mouse being the most practiced. But cats tire, and mice are good at hiding. Sometimes I thought we were both cats hunting the same mouse named Love. Other times we were both mice scrambling, both trying to avoid being eaten alive by a monster with the same damn name.
It wasn’t always so daunting.
Admittedly, no one had ever put more effort into being my friend than the man on the end of the bed. That made my heart loyal to him, even when I tried to hate or forget him. He looked out into space, his hands steepled, and his thumbs revolving around each other. As frustrating and infuriating as he was, and as much as he wanted to claim, to possess, it was he who belonged to me.
Therefore, I was responsible for him in some ways, but I had never been worthy or qualified for the job. I was convinced much of his strength came from lugging that big heart around. I was but one weak woman.
Finally, he said, answering my question with one of his own. “You know the worst thing about you, Nora? You give up too easily.”
Maybe he was right. It wasn’t that I didn’t believe in him, so much as I didn’t believe in myself. I knew he’d make me happy. He was good at everything he did. The Master of his Universe. I could barely even find my shoes most days.
“Not everyone is as brave as you, Reagan.”
He lay back on his elbows and looked up at the ceiling. �
�I can’t be the only one fighting for us. It’s like I’ve been fighting this, you, and myself. You fight against me, not for me. For two damn years now. I’m tired. I’m weak, and, as much as I hate it, I’m giving up.”
That was when my insides began weeping. They wailed and screamed, tortured and in agony.
Funny how some prayers get answered at the wrong time. I’d pleaded with God that he’d see how wrong I was for him and turn the other way. So many times I’d thought he’d done just that.
But I’d been wrong.
It was now. That moment. That sentence that drove home how much I’d be giving up without him in my life.
Had I fought him?
It felt more internal than that. It had always felt like I was at war, but I guessed they called it friendly fire for a reason. War doesn’t only hurt the ones who are in it.
Especially heart wars.
He was inside mine, and yet I still tried to defeat it, taking his down in the process.
“I never wanted to hurt you,” I confessed.
Then his face rolled my way. He looked wounded and every bit as tired as he’d claimed. “Say you want me for me. For me. That’s all I want. That’s all I need. Don’t say it because I’m important to you. Or because you care. Or because I know your body. Or because I’m familiar, and we’re best fucking friends. Fucking say it because you want me. Because you need me, too.”
My heart lunged forward before my mouth could speak.
I needed him, but was it more than I needed him to be happy?
The line in the sand was deep and growing wider, and I was losing ground. Losing time. Losing him.
His eyes were hollow, and his voice matched. “Or. Fucking. Stop. Because you’re killing me.”
I couldn’t bear it any longer. The impulse to comfort him, tend to him, to give to him overwhelmed me into motion.
My eyes burned as I leaned forward, near his face. Months of shackled emotion began to burst through their weathered locks.
“I’m so sorry,” I wept. “I’m so sorry, Reggie.”
Then I lay my head on his chest and felt myself wrack and shutter. Juvenile sounds I hadn’t made since I was a child tumbled out of my quivering mouth.
“I hate this. It’s so hard. It’s killing me, too.” I sobbed.