Variables of Love

by M. K. Schiller

  “I had a nightmare.”

  “Want to talk about it?”

  “Yes and no. I’m pretty messed up as you can see.”

  “What do you mean?”

  He got up and moved the laptop to a side table. I watched the muscles in his legs as he approached the bed again. He sat on the opposite edge. It was a king-size bed, but the chasm between us felt as wide as the Pacific.

  “You don’t find me attractive anymore. I get that. You live in New York. They practically breed supermodels here.”

  He looked at me as if I’d grown another head. “Why the hell do you think that?”

  “You said my ass was bony and I’m too skinny.”

  Ethan laughed.

  My hands balled into fists. “Go ahead and laugh.”

  He crawled to where I was, and my heart quickened with his slow advance. “Meena, you’re the most beautiful girl in the room.”

  “Smooth, Ethan. I’m the only girl in the room.”

  He shook his head and moved a strand of hair behind my ears. “Sorry, that came out wrong. I meant to say you’re the most beautiful girl in any room. You always have been. The most beautiful girl in the city, the country, the world, the universe.”

  I gave him a sarcastic glance. “You don’t have to lay it on so thick. I wasn’t fishing for compliments.”

  “You don’t have to, Sunshine.” It was the first time he’d called me that since I’d been here. It sent a chill down my spine. “There’s something else you need to know.”

  “What?”

  “I don’t want you to have the wrong impression about things, so I need to tell you. It’s been over six months since us. I didn’t do anything for a long time, but I was dying a little more every day. Those other girls…they’re just solar simulators for me.”

  “Huh?”

  He chuckled. “They’re a light source used to simulate sunlight. They’re artificial sunshine. Do you understand?”

  I smiled. “Only you could describe meaningless sex with science and have it make sense.”

  “Tell me about your dream, please. I want to hear it.”

  “It’s stupid.”

  “Dreams usually are. They’re not supposed to make sense.”

  “No, it made sense. I think it was a premonition, not a dream.”

  “Oh, you’ve developed psychic abilities? Now you have to tell me.” He sat next to me, but kept enough distance so we weren’t touching.

  I swallowed hard. “I dreamed it was sometime in the future. I was with my husband, and we were shopping. We had a stroller so I assume we had a baby. We ran into you, and you were with your wife. You had a child too, but he was older.” I turned and smiled at him. “He looked like you. He had sparkly, mischievous blue eyes. It was awkward because we greeted each other like long lost acquaintances. There was no real warmth. That’s the part that makes me the saddest, I guess. I know I’ve lost you, Ethan. That was my choice, so what I’m feeling isn’t right.”

  “Meena, I have a very important question to ask you. Will you answer honestly?”

  I stared at him, slowly nodding my head. He scooted closer to me and looked into my eyes.

  His voice dropped to a serious tone. “This dream of yours…”

  He paused, and I nodded for him to go on.

  “You remember it clearly?”

  I nodded again.

  He swallowed. “Did my wife have big boobs?”

  He broke into a goofy grin, and I smacked his chest. “You always need to crack a joke?”

  “I’m sorry. It’s my coping mechanism.”

  He tucked a strand of hair behind my ear and kissed my forehead before hooking his pinkie around mine. “I know just what to do.”

  “What’s that?”

  “I have some fruit. You know strawberries and—”

  “Pineapple?”

  “Yes. We’ll cut it up and watch Austin Powers, and you can make fun of my horrible British impressions, and I’ll try not to be distracted by your shagedelic body. And tomorrow, I’ll make you pancakes, okay?”

  “I’d like that.”

  “I figured you might.”

  Somewhere between Mini Me and Ethan wrapping his hand around me, one of us—I’m not sure who—kissed the other…We didn’t stop kissing for a long time. Ethan made love to me, and we fell asleep in each other’s arms. It was the best sleep I’d had in a long time.

  I woke up all alone. It was dark out but early morning, and I would be leaving in a few short hours. I dressed quickly and walked into the bathroom to wash my face and brush my teeth. Then I set out to find him. He was on the balcony, sitting in a comfortable-looking chaise wearing a terry cloth robe. I tiptoed outside in case he was sleeping.

  “Morning, Sunshine,” he said. The balcony was narrow but long, covering the length of the front room. The light from the living room spilled out in a soft glow on the stonework. I expected it to be freezing, but it wasn’t. It was a brisk day, but not too cold. A heat lamp in the corner aided the pleasant climate. The city wasn’t fully awake, but there were errant sounds of car horns and truck motors below us.

  “This is nice,” I said.

  “Come sit with me.” I went to take a seat on the other chaise, next to him, but he tugged my shirt hem. “No, sit with me.”

  He scooted over for me, and I lay next to him. Ethan’s face had some morning scruff, and he rubbed it against my neck. It felt amazingly good. He enveloped me in his arms, embracing me tightly.

  “Ethan, do you—”

  “Shh. Please, Sunshine, just let me hold you for a minute.”

  I was quiet as he held me. I felt the tension of his muscles, the intake of his breath, the pulsing of his heart. It was a quiet moment, and it was ours alone.

  “We never talked about your interview questions.”

  I tensed immediately, not expecting him to bring it up. He must have felt that because he moved his hands to slowly massage my shoulders.

  “We don’t have to talk about it. I don’t want to,” I said.

  “It doesn’t matter anyway. You can’t know someone by asking them questions.”

  “That’s not true. You can know the important things.”

  “Sunshine, everyone knows the important things about us. It’s the unimportant things that make us who we are. Do you know what I mean?”

  “No.”

  He turned me so I was facing him. He brushed my hair back and embraced me. “Everyone knows you’re Meena Kapoor, summa cum laude graduate at Standford with a degree in economics, twenty-three years old, of Indian descent, a practicing Hindu, a vegetarian. That’s the working knowledge of you, but it’s hardly intimate.”

  With a weak smile, I dredged up the courage to ask him. “What is the real me?”

  He put a hand on each side of my face. “You don’t like cake.”

  I scrunched my nose in confusion. “I love cake.”

  “No, Meena, you love icing. You always skim off all the icing and take only a bite or two of the actual cake.” As he said it, I realized it was true. It was so small and silly, but something he knew about me that I hadn’t even realized. “When you wear high heels, you walk very slowly. You think you’re clumsy, but you’re not. You’re very graceful. Your greatest fear is a shark attack. When you get nervous, you bite your lower lip. When you’re confused, you scrunch your nose. When you’re sad, you cry, but you always try to hide it. When you’re happy…well, it’s pure sunshine. You feel so much, baby, not only for yourself, but for others. That’s you. Those are the unimportant things that really matter. The things I know.”

  My eyes went wide, staring at him. I buried my head in his chest and wept then. I wept, and he let me, holding me tightly. It felt like we were at some crossroads.

  “I know, for instance, right now, you’re crying more for me than you.” He was right. He was always right. When I finally got control of myself, I looked up at him. He wiped an errant tear from my face. “I’m sorry I made you cry.”
/>
  “I needed it. You’re the kindest person I know, Ethan Callahan. I don’t deserve you. Not as a friend and certainly not as anything else.”

  “Does that mean we’re not going to have ‘it’s early morning, I have a woody, and I really want to fuck you’ sex? I’m so disappointed.”

  I laughed and leaned into his ear. “I don’t deserve you, but I’m certainly not a masochist. I won’t deny you my body, and I’m fine with taking full advantage of yours.”

  He chuckled and slipped his hands under my shirt, caressing my breasts. My nipples hardened instantly. I felt his erection poke me as he jerked up.

  “Sore?” he asked.

  “No, I’m fine.”

  He undid his robe and pressed his body against mine. He clasped my waist and pulled me so I was lying on top of him. He kissed me passionately. His mouth tasted like fresh mint and orange. “Are you cold?”

  “No.”

  “You’re shivering.”

  “It’s not because I’m cold.”

  He laughed softly, before pulling on the hem of my T-shirt, dragging it up.

  “What are you doing?”

  “I’m taking my shirt off,” he replied with an amused grin.

  “Not here,” I said.

  “Do you think I’d let anyone see what’s for my eyes only?” he asked, shaking his head. Ethan grabbed a thick velour blanket from the back of the chaise and draped it over us like a tent. “Is this better?”

  “Yes, but I can’t see you.”

  “But you can feel me, right?” he said, grinding his erection into me.

  “Yes.”

  “That’s the only sense we really need.”

  He removed my shirt and pulled off my shorts with his feet. He sucked on my ear and neck. I had no idea how his mouth knew exactly where to go in our shroud of darkness, but it seemed capable of finding its way to the places on my body that needed it. I pressed my lips against his neck and felt my way down his chest, following with my mouth. I worked my way down to his nipple, flicking it with my tongue. He moaned and gently guided me the rest of the way. I took his full erection in my mouth, stroking it with my tongue. His legs squirmed, and his breathing intensified as he called out my name. I loved giving Ethan pleasure as much as I loved getting it from him. I tasted the first drops of his excitement before his strong hands encircled my arms and pulled me up.

  “I want to be inside you. My favorite place. I want you to fuck the hell out of me, baby.”

  He handed me the foil wrapper, and somehow I placed it over him. I’m not sure how Ethan was able to guide me straight onto his erection in the dark, but he did. I gasped at the penetration. I moved forward toward him, kissing him wherever my lips landed. He wrapped his legs around me, helping me with the pushing, pulling motions.

  I couldn’t see Ethan, but I felt him, and in many ways that was more erotic, more sensual, and more intimate. I felt his unshaven face as it glided along my breasts. The tip of his tongue as it tasted my neck. His fingers as they threaded through my hair. His heated breath against my skin. The sound of my name from his lips, increasing exponentially with each thrust and combining with the sound of his name as I screamed it. I felt my release and his. I felt everything.

  I fell into a slump on his chest. His arms embraced me like we were melting together. We were one…completely connected…completely entwined in that moment. He released me, and I slid off him, wincing not because of pain but the loss of our link. He moved the blanket and stared into my eyes for a long time.

  “Why is it so hard to let you go?” he asked.

  I didn’t know how to answer. The truth was I was having the same problem.

  We tried to make breakfast, but we just ended up having sex on his marble countertops. I took a shower, and he insisted on joining me, making an amusing excuse about water shortages in the city.

  Finally, the time had come for me to leave. I folded his shirt and set it in my bag. I smiled at the two additional T-shirts he’d left on the bed for me.

  I thought about how easy it would be to stay here in this beautiful city with him. But then I thought about my parents. I couldn’t cause them any more pain.

  We pulled up to the train station. He turned to me, smiling sadly. I stopped him before he could say anything. “Ethan, we can’t do this.”

  “Do what?”

  “We can’t be anything to each other. Not friends and certainly not lovers. Although in our case, the two seem interchangeable. I know some people can, but we’re not those people.”

  He was quiet for a long time as if pondering my words.

  “Say something,” I prodded.

  He smiled again. “If I had known that was goodbye sex, I would have made it last longer.” He tilted my chin so I was looking at him. “You’re right, Sunshine. We can’t do it. There was never anything casual about us.” He moved a strand of hair behind my ear. “I love you. I’ll always love you.”

  I stared at him, mouth parted. The words stuck in my throat caused such an ache, it hurt to swallow them down.

  “I’m sorry. That was selfish,” he said.

  I shook my head. “How could that ever be selfish?”

  “I didn’t say it so you could hear it. I said it so I could say it, just once, out loud, to you.”

  I took his hand, “Ethan, I won’t say it back to you, not because I don’t feel it, but it would be cruel since this was my choice. But I do need to say some things to you that are long overdue. You told me once that I should go to therapy, and I think I’m going to, but I want you to know something. Talking to you, expressing myself in ways I never had, having you accept me for all my faults…it meant something. You were my therapy. I will always be grateful for that. You will always be in here,” I said, pointing to my head, “and you most certainly are in here.” I moved my hand over my heart.

  He put his hand over mine. “Meena, it wasn’t a one-way street. I’m not saying I’m going to attend religious services anywhere, but seeing your faith in people, even complete strangers, your trust and goodness, it changed me too.” He pressed his forehead to mine. “Sunshine, you were my church.”

  We didn’t kiss. We didn’t say anything more. There was nothing to say. I stepped out of the car. He grabbed my luggage and walked me to the platform. Before he left me, I grasped his shirt. “See you in another life, Ethan Callahan.”

  He smiled and kissed my wrist. “Next life, Sunshine.”

  Chapter 30

  I SAT IN RACHAEL’S PINK BEDROOM with her and Raj, trying to tune out Frank Turner’s song “The Way I Tend to Be.” I loved the song, but it reminded me of Ethan. Six months had passed since I saw him last. We stayed true to our word and made no attempts to contact each other. I still slept with Bog, I still looked for Cygnus, and I still wore his shirts, but the days became more bearable as I moved through them.

  I’d been so busy I was grateful for this afternoon with my friends. Rachael’s internship was over, and Raj had come for my party. Their presence rejuvenated me, although the sadness still lurked.

  “What are you doing?” I asked Rachael. She had her back to me and was hunched over her desk.

  She turned around and held up a long, cigarette-like object.

  “Are you crazy? My dad’s going to kill us. Hell, we’re in your house. Your dad’s going to kill us.”

  “Meena, don’t say ‘hell’ in a preacher’s house. Besides, we all need stress relief right now, during this very sad occasion.”

  “You’re calling my engagement party a sad occasion?”

  “If it’s not sad, then why do you look so depressed?”

  She had me there.

  “Whatever you’re rolling, I’m smoking,” Raj said.

  “I’m not sad, Rachael. I’m marrying a doctor, and we’re moving to Gloucester. I love Gloucester…it’s wicked cool.”

  They both laughed at my lame joke. Rachael lit the joint and inhaled deeply.

  “What if your brother walks in?” I knew Racha
el’s parents were away for the day, but Kevin was in the house.

  “Where do you think I got it from?” she replied smugly. “He uses it for medicinal purposes.”

  “What ailment does Kevin suffer from?” I asked.

  Rachael smirked. “Dry skin.”

  “Pot helps with dry skin?” I asked.

  “Only in America, right?” Rachael asked.

  Raj smiled, reaching for the joint. “Or as I like to call it—the greatest country in the world.”

  “So, what’s up with you guys? You both look pretty depressed yourselves, and you can’t tell me it’s because you feel some misguided empathy for me,” I said.

  Rachael’s smile faltered. “I broke up with Alex, or rather, he broke up with me.”

  “Why?” Raj and I asked in unison. The last I’d heard, he’d visited her in England and things were going well.

  “I cheated on him. He never wants to see me again,” she said, tearing up. I hugged her hard until she pushed me away. “Hey, it’s okay. I knew it was going to happen. I told him as much.”

  “No, you basically had a self-profiling prophecy, Rachael,” I said.

  “I’m a slut. I know who I am, and that’s better than you two losers. I hereby call this meeting to order of the Losers in Love Club,” she said, pounding her fist on the desk like a gavel.

  Raj passed me the joint. I regarded it curiously before taking a drag. I sputtered and choked on it so much that Raj handed me his water bottle.

  “Rachael, you are a slut because that’s who you think you are, but it’s not the person you were meant to be,” Raj said rather poetically.

  She crossed her arms, staring him down. “That’s interesting coming from you, Rajesh.”

  He laughed. “Let’s just say I’m taking some steps in the right direction for once.”

  “How?” I asked.

  “I’m not going back to India. I’m here for good.”

  Rachael almost dropped the joint, but she caught it and set it in the clay bowl on her desk. We both rushed to hug Raj.

  “So, you told your parents?” I asked.

  “Fuck no. They have no idea I’m gay. I’m not quite ready for that, but I decided I’m going to be ready one day. It’s going to happen. Right now, they’re still pissed I left.”