Until He Comes: A Good Girl's Quest to Get Some Heaven on Earth
Page 23
But I was better too. I was over him.
When he asked what I’d been up to, I told him not too much. Just work, and some jogging, and some sex. Justin’s happy face went slack. He staggered back.
“So how was Lesley?” I dared.
“What is happening?” Justin said. “What is happening? What have you done?”
We stared hard at each other, and I flashed back to the time Mom had told me that Grandpa had died. I knew I was supposed to feel sad and cry, but the only thing I could do was laugh. I had run to my room and hid under my blankets so they wouldn’t see my demented giggling. It was like that now. I was supposed to be sad, but I wasn’t.
“You left to go see her,” I said. “You left me. What was I supposed to think?”
“I guess you were supposed to think, hey, hmm, guess I’ll go fuck somebody else! Jesus Christ! You knew Lesley was important to me. I thought you understood. But you go and have SEX with some… I never fucked Lesley. Never! And you go with somebody you don’t even KNOW. Are you fucking joking? You really had sex with him??”
“Yeah,” I said. “And also with her.”
Justin was shaking his head and backing away from me toward the door. I knew that look. It was heartbreak. It was rage. It was necessary.
We’d done our best to make this thing fit, to make our sex fit, our hearts fit, but they wouldn’t anymore.
Predictably, a week later, we tried to see if we could fix everything with a quickie. A consolation fuck. For old times’ sake. It hurt a little, as usual, but worse than the pain was the angry look on his face. We got naked in his room and although we’d barebacked for years, he rolled on a condom before going at it, the unspoken need to protect himself from my tainted pussy. You wrecked it all, his eyes said, but he was going to try and unwreck it by being a dick, since apparently I liked guys who were dicks. I watched the wall as he pounded me, thinking about Mr. Fort Benning, and about Cynthia, wondering why Justin was still forcing himself to try and love me. Every thrust was hurting him more than me; he had the look of a man who was falling on his sword over and over.
When it was done he lay there and wiped a little dampness from his eyes. I got up to get dressed.
“Are you okay?” I asked.
He turned to me with what looked like pity.
“You’re not who I thought you were,” he said finally, his voice cracking.
“I know,” I replied. “Maybe I’ve never been.”
I liked how that sounded, like a moral victory. It gave me chills.
As I headed out of his door for the last time I looked up at the sky. I was so much smarter now. So much wiser. And more attractive. Men and women everywhere were longing to fuck me—and now they actually could! Neither Justin nor Jesus would stand in their way ever again. The horizon seemed wider somehow, heaven higher, the sunshine brighter. Even God was in a good mood.
Which is why I should’ve known.
When the Lord is giddy, it can only mean one thing: that the shitstorm of utter dysfunction has only just begun.
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