by CELENE CAREY
I went to work in a better mood than I’d been in for over a month. I took better shots, delivered better reports, wrote an amazing story about a couple who survived a burning house in St. Thomas. I went home, had dinner, and felt like seeing Veronica. I called and asked if we could watch a movie. She wasn’t feeling well; I remembered her period was to come that day, that explains how emotional she got, maybe she should do all her poems when it was PMS time of the month. I offered to come over, we could always watch bootleg on the couch, I thought to myself, like old times. I was smiling all the way there.
I didn’t bother knocking; she didn’t move the spare key from its hiding place. I came in and she eased herself up off the couch.
“That’s okay, you can lay down. I’ll get everything sorted out.”
I let her rest, went to the kitchen, microwaved the popcorn, and set up the movie. She looked her usual self, which meant it wasn’t one of those months where she’d have the vomiting. I was grateful for that, too. She didn’t say much; she was usually quiet when she was in pain and didn’t make me feel bad that I couldn’t help her. I did all I could do: I put the comedy in and gently eased her head up, sat down and rested her head in my lap. She was still my Veronica.
Halfway through the movie, with me rubbing her belly, she fell asleep. I picked her up and put her in bed. I stood there watching her peaceful face for a while. I looked at the bags under her eyes, how dark around them looked; she looked so fragile and broken. I kissed her forehead and didn’t get in bed and cuddled her as I wanted to. I couldn’t and shouldn’t. I called mom.
“Mom, you alrite?”
“Yes, Jonny, I’m okay. I’m okay. I’m always gonna be alright.”
“Cool, I’m not coming home tonight, okay?”
“Everything’s alright with you?”
“Yes, mom, I’m just going to spend the night at home.”
I thought about it; this hadn’t been my home in two months, give or take a few days.
“Alright, make sure you use a condom!”
She was laughing, but I knew she was serious.
“Mommmm! It’s not that kind of night, she isn’t feeling well.”
“Whatever you say, boy.”
I smiled, “Love you.”
“Love you too, baby.”
I hung up, got a pillow and sheet from the linen closet, and made my bed on the couch. The familiar smells made me fall asleep with a comfortable smile on my face.
I woke up early to a banging on the door. I seriously contemplated opening it up. I prayed it wasn’t him. I knew I’d never met him, but I was sure if I we were ever face-to-face I would know it was him. I opened it slowly and was surprised to see Becky standing there; she didn’t look well. She looked surprised to see me as well.
“Where’s Veronica?” She walked in.
“Well, ‘morning’ to you, too.”
“Good morning…Where’s Ver?”
“She’s sleeping, what’s wrong?”
She didn’t answer me, instead she headed straight to the room. I followed her. I didn’t complain, I knew they were best friends. I watched as she rocked Veronica from her sleep. Dazed, she slapped the arm away, then opened her eyes smiling. Her smile dropped as soon as she saw Becky.
“What the fuck are you doing here? Didn’t I say never come back?”
I was shocked out of my wits. What had I missed? I’d never seen this side of Veronica before. She got out of bed fast for a woman bleeding. I would swear by the look on her face she was about to kill Becky, and I didn’t know why. I wanted to know why. She got louder, screaming all manner of things. This could go the wrong way, and fast. I eased closer, into the room; she looked at me, looked at Becky, and looked at me again before looking back at Becky. Becky was calm, calmer than I’d expected her to be; all I could catch was, “You lesbian slut!”
Wow! This was her best friend, though. How could she be saying all these things? What had Becky done? What was so cruel?
“Ver, please listen!” she pleaded; Veronica wasn’t having any of it. She stormed out, went to the bathroom, and didn’t come out.
“What happened?”
“Nothing.”
Becky left, sorrow in her eyes. She looked defeated and I knew she’d just given up on their friendship. I had to admit, though the foul language didn’t appeal to me, she sounded so cute cursing, looked so cute with her brow knitted.
I went to the bathroom door and knocked.
Veronica yelled “Go away!” from the other side.
“It’s me, she’s gone.”
I heard her fumbling with the lock and she opened it, crying. She hugged me. I eased her away from me and looked into her eyes.
“What happened?”
I listened to her tell me how Becky had come onto her. I thought it so contradicting. She was so homophobic, yet had a gay best friend, a lesbian one at that… this should’ve been obvious; Veronica would attract any gender.
“Veronica, come on, give the girl a break.”
“Jonny, how can you say that?” She was getting upset all over again.
I hushed her, hugged her, let her go. I gave her some space and time to calm down. Hormones, I thought. I went to the kitchen to make some breakfast. She’d begged for my forgiveness, maybe she needed to forgive Becky as well. I’d convince her later. I stayed there all day; the entire time resisting the desire to kiss and fondle her. It felt good being home. I felt good knowing I could be around her and control myself. That’s something we’d have to work on, her self-control. I wasn’t coming back just yet.
Do unto others
Veronica
Jonathan spent the night. I don’t know when I fell asleep. I don’t know if he’d slept beside me, but the pillow on the couch suggested otherwise. I sighed, even if I wasn’t aware of it, it would’ve been nice to know he’d held me throughout the night. He was in the kitchen making breakfast. I was trying to catch up on what I missed from the rest of the movie before he came back to chat it out. He always did that; if we were ever watching T.V. and we were watching a show he’d watched before, I’d lose interest by the middle because he’d ruined the end already.
He came back and handed me my plate; I got half a grape fruit, a banana, a bologna sandwich with lettuce and cheese, and a glass of orange juice. He’d made himself two sandwiches, had the other half of the grapefruit, and a cup of fever grass. I’d drink my ginger tea later.
“I loved your poem; I can’t stop thinking about it.”
I blushed; I don’t know why that poem had been delivered so strongly, it was so short compared to the other poets.
“Thanks.”
“You should be more confident and do more of your poems, train yourself. You’re a powerful spoken-word poet. Your poems will never be as good as they really could be unless you do what you did up on that stage.”
I sighed, maybe someday; I was okay with taking it one poem at a time one step at a time.
“Maybe.”
I looked away as he began talking about how I should forgive Becky.
“I don’t mean to bring this up, but look how I’m trying to forgive you, trying to understand that he gave you something that I wouldn’t. Try and put yourself in her shoes.”
He had a point, but my hairs prickled every time I thought about the way she looked at me; could I trust her?
I second-guessed it, Becky had seen me in less clothes and she didn’t make a move then. I probably shouldn’t have reacted the way I did. Maybe I should reach out to her. Maybe she had been weak to her desires like I was. I would call her. Maybe we could go out like she’s always wanted and I could try to forget this happened if she’d promise me not to ever bring it up. For now, I was enjoying Jonathan’s company. I’d call Becky later.
Becky
Veronica had flat out rejected me, shamed me as if I were a dog. I couldn’t help myself, one person can try and try so hard and no more. If someone didn’t want to let you in, you could never force them. I ac
cepted it and went home. I thought about a patient I had named Garry; he was gay, his family didn’t know, he was role model, first high school graduate, first college graduate, and a success from Tivoli. He’d grown up in that homophobic society and was still gay. We couldn’t help ourselves. I shared it with him one day as he cried- that I was, in fact, gay. My family knew and had disowned me. I told him the closest family I had was Veronica, told him how I’d felt like I fell in love with her in the beginning, but I soon realized that the love I had for her was filial. He had become more like friend than like a patient. I drove straight to his house; I didn’t know who to else to turn to.
When I got to Garry’s house, he wasn’t there. I didn’t want to be around any women, I thought of the next male I knew. Bill. I called him.
“Hi, this must be really awkward hearing from me.”
“Not really, what’s up?” he replied. Yeah, we really should be friends; we had Veronica in common. Well, he had her, not me. Then I remembered seeing Jonathan at her house. Was she seeing both of them at the same time again?
“Nothing, feeling kinda down. Can’t go to Veronica.”
“Why? What happened? You heard from her?”
That was strange...
“You haven’t been hearing from her?”
He cleared his throat, seemed perturbed but played it off as nonchalance. He was good at lying, I could tell. A fellow bro. I smiled to myself. I told him what happened. Told him how Veronica flipped. Told him that I had nobody to talk to and he listened. For what reason, I don’t know.
I was on my way to the mall, getting some shopping done sounded up my alley. Clothes, pretty things, different things, the smell of new, having something that belonged to me, was good. Bill asked what I was doing.
“You sound like you’re in your car.”
“Yeah, I am,” I replied. He tried to change to topic from Veronica. I let him.
“Where you headed?”
“Just the mall, need to get some shopping done. A girl’s favourite pastime,” I said sarcastically.
“Oh cool, what mall?”
I told him, he asked me to call him back later. I said “sure” and hung up as I pulled into the underground parking lot. It was going to be a long evening.
I bought six blouses, a dress for a girl I was linking, and a watch; I spent almost a total of forty grand. I pulled my phone out as I headed down; I remembered I had to call Bill back.
The Ultimate Submissive
Bill DaCosta
I’d been fucked up since Claire’s death. I’d been on edge; I’d wanted to beat an ass until it turned purple, wanted to take virginity, anal virginity. I needed release. I thought and thought and thought. Again I considered Polly and the famous back road. I couldn’t do it. Days had passed since she’d died, I still hadn’t fucked. Countless women at work flirted with me, but I’d locked in on a target weeks ago. This one would be the real deal.
I knew exactly who I wanted. She never flirted. Wasn’t attracted to me, not that I knew of. Was always either professional with me or cordial whenever we communicated. We, however, rarely spoke. I had been watching her for a few days. She had no idea, more and more she’d become attractive; maybe it was her skin. Before Claire died, before Veronica stopped taking my calls, I should’ve been fucking them more. Now all the tension was building up and baby oil and my palm wasn’t working it out.
This submissive would be different, I knew it. It’s different when you know they wanted it. I knew where she worked, that was easy of course, and I followed her home from work one day. Of course she didn’t know the car; I thought my plan would be hard, since she never left home. Just work and home, sometimes out on a date. I knew that much, but no dates recently. Did she and her “boo” break up? I laughed to myself.
I took some photos one day when I realised how good she looked. Played around with Photoshop, put her face on the bodies of porn stars with her skin tone. Yes, I admitted to myself, I was now obsessed. I was hooked. I’d caved in on my desires long ago and I realised this was something I didn’t know if I could live without. I thought about it at work, while I was with T, on the road, in traffic, and I’d slowly devised my plan. I had it pieced together and I was about to take action.
***
She looked beautiful. I’d strung her up. We were in the house; I couldn’t have managed taking her to the loft. She was close to lifeless when I’d pulled her body from the rental truck. No one paid attention as I eased it into the driveway. Getting the drugs was easy, they would wear off soon, though. I had to get her saddled in and quick. I moved rapidly. I brought her in first and then the groceries. We were going to be here for a long time. I took a vacation off work; I was dedicated to this challenge. No matter how long it took.
Life was unpredictable
Jonathan
I’d been going to Veronica’s more frequently. We did things, went out for ice cream, and even went out for candy a few times whenever she felt like it. Some nights I slept there, and whenever I did, I slept on the couch. Tonight we were playing board games, the innocent kind, and I was kicking her ass. I felt like the good friend I knew I could be to her. She’d gone miserable a few times, times when she was horny I supposed.
“I’m not your friend,” she’d curse. It was cute. She’d run me home and I’d always go. The last time she did it, I was headed for the door and she quickly ran up to me putting her body between me and the door. She’d slowly brought her arms up around my neck, pouted at me, apologised, and kissed my cheek. I’d been frozen. We hadn’t been that close since her period, when I picked her up. She didn’t let go of my neck. She just stood there looking at me, tempting me, and waiting. I didn’t budge, just asked her to excuse me. She’d taken the opportunity my open mouth offered and kissed me, holding the back of my head, softly kissing my bottom lip. I gave in a little, then stopped her. The look on her face after that rejection made me feel like I’d done something wrong. I just couldn’t, I really couldn’t. My body gave in to the familiarity, because once you give yourself to someone their body never stops knowing your body, and your body never stops knowing theirs. Like riding a bike, you’ll never forget how to. My lips responded, but my mind stopped them.
Monopoly wasn’t as fun with two people.
“Maybe we should consider playing cards instead,” I was saying when my phone began to ring.
I eased up and headed for the kitchen table. It was Sunday night and I’d brought some of the dinner mom had cooked early this morning before church for Veronica. I’d ditched the evening part to come spend time with her. She’d agreed to go with me next Sunday. That was something to look forward to.
It was mom calling to find out if I was spending the night or coming home, I guessed when her name came up on the screen.
“Hello, mom,” I answered.
“Jonny?”
It wasn’t my mother’s voice, the person sounded frantic.
“Yes, it’s me! Everything’s okay?”
“No! Jonny I don’t know what to do!”
I recognised the voice now as her neighbour Pat.
“What happened? Calm down.”
“No, I can’t! They’ve just rushed your mother to the hospital! She collapsed in church, maybe it’s a heart attack!”
Before she was finished I’d been halfway out the door, Veronica on my heels. I prayed a silent prayer after telling Veronica what Pat had told me.
She kept her hand on my knee the entire drive there. I was relieved to have her with me; I felt some strength from her. I knew she was praying for me too.
Veronica
On our way down to the hospital, I called Becky. Her cell rang without an answer. When we got there, Jonathan went to go try to find his mother; he’d call me as soon as he located her. I kissed him and he didn’t stop me. I tried calling Becky again; her phone went straight to voicemail again. I left her a voice message. I had been thinking… life was too short and unpredictable to live without the people you loved,
to live with hate; there was too many good things to appreciate. You never knew what day might be your last. I was happy I’d agreed to go to church with Jonathan next Sunday. I wanted God to see my face inside his worshiping place again. I’d really been a sinner; a sinner who wanted to go to heaven someday. Becky was my best friend, she understood me, and I used to claim I understood her. I really had overreacted. Jonny was right. It was sad that it took this awful circumstance for me to realise.
I would try and reach out to her again tomorrow. Maybe she’ll forgive me like I should’ve forgiven her. I have a feeling she’d understand; she knew how I felt about girls touching me. I vaguely remembered what Bill had done to me. I blocked his memory and answered Jonathan as he called; he was crying through muffled words. A nurse took the phone and directed me, saying he needed someone to calm him down. I headed to his rescue.
The Ultimate Submissive
Bill Dacosta
I looked at my masterpiece. She was dressed in leather from head to toe, all the right body parts exposed. I put a mask over her head, one with only one hole for the nose and mouth. She wouldn’t be able to see. It was time for her to wake up. I’d been dying to get started. I put some smelling salt beneath her nose after gagging her and watched as her body came to life. Days ago I’d transported the body harness, bought the drugs, plotted and plotted. I was going to make this work. Everything happened so perfectly. I just watched her jerking, pulling at the chains. I could hear the muffled screams.