It Had Been Years

by Malflic, Michael

  Moving on to the next conversation she rolled through it as nothing more than her giving him her resume, he put people places at times so one day she might be a recommendation of his, no harm there. Soon the conversation turned to the arts and to literature, as she replayed yet another portion of the previous evening in her head. She started to wonder from room to room peering aimlessly out the windows looking onto the streets below. She thought of how he referenced the restaurant being of dark wood and dimly lit reminded him of a favorite childhood book, “a child’s tale really, the Hounds of the Baskerville’s” as he went on to summarize in particular his recollection of passage between Dr. Mortimer, Holmes, Watson, and Sir Henry Baskerville, a idly placed letter and the fact that there were twenty three hotels in charring cross. She was attentive, but not a Sherlock Holmes fan so in no way could she relate to the story as he told it in summary providing more odd bits of detail here and there.

  As dinner wore on to dessert, she remembered an odd conversation of religion. Seeing as their party was most often associated with conservative moral causes it was not completely inappropriate, but odd none the less. He brought up the idea of God, a scripture. To Christy a man seen as a minion of Satan by most, even many of those associated with him discussing God was more than a bit disconcerting. Was he a Trojan bearing gifts? She remembered thinking at the time, but boys will be boys, some men love having arch enemies to discuss, pagans to smite, and plans to rule the world by crushing one’s enemies. Perhaps she was seeing the devils plans for God, but then again came the number 23 this time in a series of biblical references. He talked about the 23rd verse of Genesis being the 5th day of creation about evening and day.

  Then after a few more odd references he moved in on to Psalm 23, which he quoted verbatim

  “1The LORD is my shepherd; I shall not want. 2He maketh me to lie down in green pastures: he leadeth me beside the still waters. 3He restoreth my soul: he leadeth me in the paths of righteousness for his name’s sake. 4Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil: for thou art with me; thy rod and thy staff they comfort me. 5Thou preparest a table before me in the presence of mine enemies: thou anointest my head with oil; my cup runneth over. 6Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life: and I will dwell in the house of the LORD forever.”

  He explained how it’s true meaning was about having a prosperous life then tying it in explained that both Genesis 39 & 40 have exactly twenty three verses, they dealt with a rise to power to lies and to deceit. She thought she finally understood why she was there as she continued hearing Michal’s words in her head. Dungeons and lies but rising back to power, she had lied, spoken half truths and mis-stepped she was convinced though that he was telling her that as the Husker rose to power and prosperity she would be given a second chance. Then she thought about his final words about the number 23, she hadn’t seen a man so obsessed with a single number since junior high when the boys all fell in love with the number 69. The elation and feeling of salvation and redemption faded as she looked up chapter twenty three in Genesis which was what he told her to read again some time. The chapter was not about prosperity it was depressingly and completely about death. She was again as lost in the end as she had been when she started. Picking up the phone she called the Husker’s cell phone. The phone was answered but before he said hello she heard him say “Thanks. I’ll be ready in just a minute” and a female voice respond with “No hurry”. It was a voice she did not know.

  After greetings were exchanged she briefed him on the first of the two meetings in painstakingly accurate detail. The Husker listened to Christy politely. Then she started in on the dinner meeting.

  “It was a nice time.” She stated.

  “Glad to hear it, he’s not what most people accuse him of being.”

  “Well, since you brought it up. I’ve been trying to make sense of why I was there.”

  The husker reassured her that he was simply a good person to know, and that the meaning of the meeting was not because of greater ambitions for himself at that time, it was of course always a possibility but he liked his life. She still had no insight. So as they closed Christy asked “Will you at breakfast tomorrow?”

  He paused “I will, but I might be a few minutes late, I have a morning workout.”

  “No problem, most of the group is usually late.”

  “I know I’m not typically, and could you have them set the table for one more? I’m bringing a guest.”

  “It’s a big group from what I hear, but I’ll call them now”

  Final good byes were said and they hung up. The Husker headed down the hall to catch up with Donna. Christy looked at the list of attendees for the next day, it was much larger than their typical group. She counted up the names and added hers and the Huskers to the count.

  “Twenty two” she said out loud to an otherwise empty room. Then stopping cold remembered he had asked her to add someone. “Twenty three” her heart dropped, it all now made sense the only question that remained was would it be prosperity or death that he brought. She was not having a good day yet again.

  Earlier that Morning

  Even before Donna opened her eyes, she could smell the aroma of coffee lingering through the air. So as her eyes focused there was no surprise as to where she was and what had happened. Danced ‘til two thirty, showered and in bed by three fifteen. The light of day was deceiving, although it felt like morning the brightness outside made it seem more like brunch. She took her time lying there and waking, coming to slowly it was early earlier than she would have liked. Times had changed as she slid into a white T-shirt with that damn red “N” emblazed on the entire front and a pair of sweats that she could have had made into three different pairs that fit correctly but still it was a thoughtful gesture to put them on the bench at the end of the bed. She moved like a vampire trying to avoid contact with the bright rays of light that were shinning through the edges of the blinds on the far wall.

  “Morning.” the Husker greeted her softly despite his elevated levels of caffeine.

  “Good morning.” she replied, her strides more of a lazy shuffle than actual steps, each foot seemed to refuse to lift from the ground as not to tempt gravity, balance, and coordination quite yet that day.

  The Husker was more in the habit of four hours of sleep, yes four hours was fairly normal. Five hours was a lot and six hours of sleep on more than a rare occasion was only a little less than gluttonous in his mind. As Donna took her seat at the small table with two chairs in the condo’s alcove of windows and doors leading from the kitchen to one of the patios, he placed a latte by her left hand as she used her right to shield her face from the sun. Her mind becoming clear quite quickly wasn’t hesitating to remind her that her feet hurt from the previous nights’ relentless pounding. Lactic acid was still pooling in her weary legs and now tight hips, a byproducts of last night’s rhythms, some of which could still be heard in the distance somewhere inside of her head. The Husker sat a fruit plate on the table, it was seemingly well thought out and the pieces were even an arranged in a visually appealing presentation. Sliced apple next to six grapes placed in a perfect row that butted up against three strawberries, that while cleaned and cord had seen better days, the deep red luster was becoming dark with age, firmness once a given thing, was now mostly a thing of the past.

  The Husker in his classic all American good looks, looked like he fell out of the J. Crew late summer and early fall collection, his looks more traditional than that of a man who danced the night away for the first time in his life only a few hours earlier. Sure when he was young there were fall formals and homecoming. Christmas regalia’s and snow ball dances. Without fail he was always asked and accompanied someone to the Sadie Hawkins dance annually. As a sophomore he was asked to the prom by a senior cheerleader, more of a gold digger than someone of genuine interest in him. He had learned to choose his companion’s after that. In college there were mixers, and balls, c
otillions and formals. As an adult he attended state dinners and inaugurations, he participated in the refined cultured world of dance, waltzes and what not. Before 13 hours ago he had never danced just to dance, instead he had always danced out of expectation and obligation, not for joy, or out of expression. He had never before moved in time with so many others out of reckless abandon before returning to his life, returning to duty, living up to expectations and not who he was supposed to be, for the first time understanding just slightly who he really was. He thought it might be OK to set his own expectations and care for his own needs. He thought of what Michal’s response in describing his concerns for his situation and relationship. As he explained his dilemma of keeping the relationship hidden and the pushing and questions and everything associated with that. She just sipped her latte and nibbled on grapes.

  She played with the strawberries, taking it all in as she finished she said, “I thought this was just a casual thing.” She said it in an attempt to be sensitive if he was starting to feel differently, this was never intended to be more than it was, they had kept their dating in the shadows for so many months. She wasn’t looking for anything much more serious than what she had up to that point. Somewhere a long time ago she learned that the thought of love and romance or something beyond satisfying her physical needs never ended well. There was always pain and disappointment, expectations and intentions were rarely if ever met.

  “It is casual, but it’s also stupid that we have to keep driving to remote parts of town just to have a cup of coffee in public.”

  Perhaps Donna was making more of this than she originally thought, he had met her friends, Nadrea hadn’t even terrorized him too much. “OK, so what were you thinking?” He paused “Brunch, on Sunday at my usual place.”

  Pausing and biting into an apple slice from the plate. “But isn’t it always the same crowd?”

  He laughed, “Yes, but that can be said for everywhere. Tomorrow there will be a group other than the regulars, people rotate through, show up sometimes but not others.” The Husker’s paused because Donna looked as if she looked like she was ready to speak but was still formulating the words.

  “Will the bitch be there?” There really was no other way to describe Christy in her mind. “Yes but we’ll hit her blind side, that way.”

  “Alright, I’ll go” she said her words spoken more like she was being taken to something that wasn’t fun. Finishing her latte the couple decided to spend the day wondering through the Smithsonian together and as they were leaving for Donna’s to get her “some reasonably sized clothing” the Husker’s phone began to ring. She saw the name on the display and couldn’t resist answering it and adding “here you go Honey” before giving the phone to him. In more ways then she cared to admit, she was still the slut fucking the prom queens date. The Husker answered. “Hello?”

  Lingering thoughts

  All the time alone was not a good thing, Nadrea could feel herself slipping into to a place inside herself, her fears, and her own world that was not healthy in any way, isolated and alone with no contact that didn’t involve a bit of liquid libation and someone to make her body sting in so many ways. She was alone with her own demons, swimming in her own deviance between lovers. Life was so simple, a few drinks, shove a toy in her own ass and finger herself time and again to the point of release. Often to the point of rubbing herself completely raw. The music was always playing and on this occasion it was an ironic choice of Mary Poppins singing “A spoon full of sugar”. If there was music to accompany her then she wasn’t alone, she was lost in the words or the rhythm, dark reddish brown hair in part caressing her shoulders and the remainder of her locks fanned out on the cold tile floor. She was dancing endlessly in her mind while she obsessed about the next place to be and who it would be with, drinks here and dinner there a nice a slap in the face and a good fuck in the alley. Add more vodka a little self applied riding crop to her inner thighs a painfully big insertion and repeat, shaking uncontrollably in her heels and garter belt on the floor fantasizing about nothing more complicated than the next orgasm and the potential of its own life affirming intensity. Sure she could lie to herself about her lack of social interaction outside of alcohol, her profession and the scene, but the truth was only in the still of the night does the thought of her own mortality ever cross her mind, the fact she was alone not just for the moment but alone in life. The room was spinning, so it was almost time to head out, a little vodka and short wool black and white checkered skirt and full out slut blouse, if you want to sell it, it helps to advertise and tonight she was looking for a little companionship that wasn’t battery operated and self applied. It was dark and cold, but then again everywhere got dark and cold but it was the first chilly evening of an all too humid summer. The songs had moved on through many others as she took a little more spirit in and a little X to help her feel more at peace. As she headed for the door to the latest party the chorus of “girls don’t like boys, girl’s like cars and money” followed her down the stair as she thought to herself and “big dicks…girls like really, really big fat dicks, or at least I do” and she giggled to herself.

  Nadrea was quite possibly the most penis sized obsessed woman in her demographic in the entire DC metro, a part of the world run by people who play whose dick is bigger for a living. Not a single man from puberty to death could pass her without her imagining the size and shape, the length and girth. Her cool eyes lost in their own perverse calculation, or its potential uses and his preferences. Size didn’t matter as a part of casual intercourse there she held an any port in a storm approach. But the subject was one she considered to be an essential intellectual diversion.

  Arriving too late to save a drowning bitch

  It was a beautiful morning, as the sun came up and the coolness of an early fall or late summer night gave way to the warmth of the coming day. It was a day where there were a few clouds in the otherwise bright blue sky. The clouds were mostly puffy and white, floating happily over the DC Metro, except for one small dark cloud that at one point did its best during the Husker’s morning run. Again he found himself running before the sun came up, down by the river watching a few stray crew teams that were actually starting to look interesting to him, just a little but more with each passing day. Sometimes lies can come to life, as he pondered how much fun it would be to be out on the water with a group of what he could only imagine to be friends working together pushing their bodies in the quest to gain a few fractions of a second better time. Brunch was a few hours away and it was with the exception of his morning run location, just like every other morning run. And after a run, coffee just to make sure his heart was really awake and would stay that way. Brunch today would be at 10:30 and Robert and Donna would arrive by 10:20 to start the introductions and socializing. The table was ready and as the rest of the group filtered in the chatter continued. As usual most of the group was at least 15 minutes late, but as the table filled there was only one chair that was blatantly empty. Christy had not yet arrived. She was chronically early but today she sat paralyzed staring into her makeup mirror questioning everything she thought she knew just a week earlier when she left for the weekly brunch. She kept reflecting on that conversation with Michal who was starting to seem more like a cryptic prophet than a political power player. Perhaps that was why he was shrouded in such mystery and myth. Her makeup was finished as she sat and stared at her perfectly pressed blouse that was going to accompany her Ellen Tracy suit. Standing there in her sensible and comfortable under garments and pantyhose that an old woman should be wearing, not stockings and garters, not a hint of sex or seduction despite a nice shape and toned body. She was not at all a sexual creature. Donna in contrast was wearing a beautiful soft and silk bra and panties a garter belt and hose and while dressed conservatively on the outside she felt sexy and beautiful in her Richard Tyler suit, she was sure of who she was despite being the newest member of the breakfast group. While Christy drove her Chevy Lumina around looking for parkin
g and walked up in her sensible heels the Husker and Donna had gotten out of a cab forty five minutes earlier at the hotels’ door step and began greeting friends. So when Christy finally arrived, the Husker was two coffees into the meal, her 5:30 Friday meeting companion was three Mimosa’s into the gathering and the only chair left was between two staffers of little known party members at the far end of the table on the same side as Robert. She didn’t know half of the crowd, so it was impossible to tell who number twenty three was. Christy at first focused on a sharp dressed well spoken type in the middle of the opposite side of the table. He had to be twenty three, it was death at the table, not prosperity. As she pointed a polite but aggrieve line of conversation at him it turned out he was the lover of the woman next to him, she was on staff elsewhere. The moron worked for a liquor distributor. He was not a threat to her place in line. The meal began and the conversations wore on, this play, that bill. Reform here, misinformation there, the blessing and the curse of the media. The table today was mixed company, that both parties were well represented, it was the kind of thing we like to read about but never really see, the liberals and conservatives getting along…for the most part. It wouldn’t be an uneventful Sunday morning in DC without someone’s nose being bent out of place. That said it was an uneventful morning. As people started to drift away, she still hadn’t really figured out who twenty three was until Robert stood up to leave and the bitch next to him stood up also. Christy was incensed, she just couldn’t believe it. He was making his way around the table saying his farewells, his hand placed gently on her back in a tender but guiding way. As they reached Christy, the Husker spoke, “Christy is my head of staff here at my capital offices.” Christy looked for a change in tone there was none. So who was she? Then it became all too clear, “Donna and I are going out for drinks later today. Would you like to join us?” Donna such a wicked name, Christy thought. My cousin was married to a woman named Donna she was a treacherous bitch, she thought as her heart raced.