Clark
I picked her up at 6. She told me to meet her a block from her building, probably to avoid the press. This time I was on time and she looked even more beautiful than she had the other night. As she swept into my red sports car, her white dress fluttered in the wind a little. In the dying sunlight, I could see her freckles.
“What is it?” Kristin asked, bashful under my steady gaze.
“Nothing. You look stunning.”
She blushed, beaming.
“Thank you. You look quite handsome yourself.”
I shrugged, and ran my hand down the front of the 800-dollar suit.
“It was something I had lying around. Are you ready for tonight?”
Kristin swallowed, gave me a valiant smile, and then nodded.
“As ready as I’ll ever be.”
“Did you decide where you want to go?” I asked and she shook her head.
“Good,” I said, then pressed my foot on the gas.
The top was down and the wind was whipping our hair up and around. Kristin said something, but the wind overpowered her words.
“What was that?” I asked.
“Do I get to know where we’re going?” Kristin yelled and I laughed.
With a tap of one finger on my nose, I shook my head, and then laughed again. Kristin could only maintain her pout for a few seconds before she joined my laughter.
And it was funny, both of us in the car, the sun setting on the horizon, with a final red orange haze for the sky, the wind ruffling our hair up and out, while the two of us laughed our heads off about nothing. It was better than nice; it was something like forgetting, like riding horseback or the absolute climax of fucking, when the whole world goes blank.
But then, after a few minutes, the sun set and it was dark, and we were pulling up to the little red-shaded building.
“Cirino’s,” Kristin said as we stepped out of the car and walked up to the doors, “I’ve heard about this place.”
“Oh yeah?” I said, holding open the door for her, “So you’ve probably heard that it’s the best restaurant in town.”
Kristin smiled slightly, nodded.
“Why do you do that?”
“Do what?” I asked.
“That, the…never mind.”
Kristin frowned as the big hairy maître d’ approached us.
“Mr. Denton?”
I nodded and he turned to gesture further into the dining room.
“Right this way, sir.”
The place was as nice as I remembered: with a ceiling full of delicate lights, walls bearing expertly rendered scenes of Italy and little miniature streetlights for each table.
Taking in our surroundings, Kristin turned to me with a smile. “Clark, you were right, this place really is great.”
I nodded, and then took her hand. “What was it you were saying before?”
But she only shook her head.
“It doesn’t matter now.”
Another awkward silence. Our waiter was taking too long to arrive. This was why I always ordered drinks first, or supplied them myself. Hello inebriation, bye-bye awkward silences.
“Welcome to Cirino’s. My name is Ennio and I will be your waiter,” a man who looked identical to our maître d’ said. “Would you like to hear the specials?”
“That’s fine,” I told him, “We know what we want.”
Kristin shot me a questioning look, but I continued, “We would like two Main Street ribeye steaks and a bottle of Chianti please.”
No sooner had our waiter left then has Kristin turned to me with an incredulous look.
“I thought this night was for me.”
“So…?”
“So, shouldn’t I be allowed to at least choose what I eat and drink?”
Taking her hand, I gave it a light squeeze.
“Kristin, trust me. This is going to be delicious. I just want you to have the best evening possible, that’s all.”
She nodded, but didn’t say anything, her limp hand in mine like a cold dead fish.
Luckily, our waiter returned quickly with the bottle of wine, which he poured into a glass for each of us. Once he had left again, I raised my glass to Kristin’s for a toast.
“To tonight.”
Kristin gave a thin-lipped smile, repeating “To tonight” as our glasses clinked. After we had a glass of wine in us, we had an easier time of it. Kristin told me some more anecdotes about Romeo and Juliet—how, when she had had to take Juliet to the vet one time, Romeo had actually peed on her bed, as well as updates that her parents were retired and well, while her sister Veronica was “the same as ever.”
“So, still a bitch?” I asked.
A tense silence, where I was worried I had just ruined the evening. Then, throwing her head back, Kristin laughed.
Amidst the tastefully quiet music of the restaurant, her laugh—loud and melodious and authentic—was out of place. Maybe that was what made it so attractive. Or maybe it was the way her freckled nose screwed up as her red lips spurted out giggle after giggle, her lithe fingers grasping the white table clothed table for support.
Finally, she surveyed me with a surprised smile.
“Clark, how did you…”
Over the rim of my wine glass, I winked and smirked.
“Everyone in school thought she was a first-class snob. And then how she turned me away after the prom incident…”
Kristin’s eyes widened.
“Wait. What?”
“When I came to your house and asked to see you and you told Veronica to tell me to go to hell. I figured you were just still mad about missing prom, so I didn’t push it.”
Kristin scanned my face incredulously.
“What are you talking about?”
And suddenly, I understood.
“Veronica never told you I came by, did she?”
Kristin shook her head.
“That…bitch.”
Catching my eye, we both burst out laughing. As I opened my mouth to say more, however, two plates topped with thick slabs of steak, along with glistening garlic potatoes and asparagus swooped down in front of us.
“This does look amazing,” Kristin admitted with a gleam in her eye. Taking a bite of the steak, she declared, “Tastes even better than it looks.”
With that, we dug in. Kristin’s face grew more delighted with every bite she took. For my part, I had forgotten just how delicious the food here was, the wine elevating it even further.
I finished first, of course; I’ve always been a fast eater. Besides, Kristin was savoring everything, treating each bite as if it were a meal in itself. Her absolute delight was endearing.
“What are you going to do with the money?” I blurted out before I could stop myself.
Kristin’s face fell, and I immediately saw that mentioning our arrangement had been the wrong thing to do. If only Kristin had understood; I had just wanted to see that smile brighten further, those eyes light up more as she described all the wonderful things she could do with the extra cash. I hadn’t meant to break the mood but enhance it.
“Sorry, you can go back to eating; you don’t have to answer now, or at all.”
But the smile was lost and Kristin was shaking her head, saying absently “Other than pay off my debts, I hadn’t thought of it much but…” That smile rose up again. “Maybe I’ll go to Cancun. My friend who went there showed me some pictures and it looked gorgeous; the Mayan ruins, the little lakes—cenotes, I think they’re called—the beaches… I’d get someone to take Romeo and Juliet off my hands, maybe even find that lovesick couple a new home and get a cat who actually gave a damn about me…”
As if finally remembering that I was there, Kristin’s voice trailed off, shaking her head, her cheeks going red again. She lifted her wine glass to her lips, and then paused.
“I don’t know, I…I never would have thought my life was going to end up like this.” Her gaze flicked to me.
“What do you mean?” I asked, and she
set down the wine glass.
“Why, Clark?”
“Why what?”
“Why didn’t you come to prom? Why did you stand me up? Why did you embarrass me in front of the entire school?”
I took a drink of my own wine and ran my finger around the rim. I didn’t want to look at that face as I spoke.
“It was the meeting for my first app, Reviewly. I was pushing to get it out as soon as possible, my family was having money troubles and I wanted to help. I was sure I was going to make it on time, I almost did. I didn’t stand you up, Kristin, I went to prom.”
Now, Kristin’s face was curved with anger. Shaking her head furiously, she declared “No you didn’t. I was there, Clark, I was there. I was standing there in the hall when they called out our names and you were nowhere to be seen, all right? And you never came.”
I nodded, still avoiding her eye. “I know, but it I did come—seconds too late. When I got to the door, the teachers at the door told me that you had just left. I tried calling but you didn’t pick up. I was so furious with myself that I just went home without going inside at all.”
I chanced a look at Kristin to see that her eyes were full of tears.
“You did come,” she said softly and, taking her hand, I nodded.
“But I still failed you that night. And for that, I’m sorry.”
Kristin sat there in silence. When I opened my mouth to speak, she only shook her head, stood up and disappeared in the direction of the bathroom.
Several minutes passed. Kristin hadn’t finished her meal, but I didn’t let the waiter take her half-filled plate away. No, I sat there and waited, and wondered when she’d be back. And what I’d do if she never returned.
Finally, when I was about to get up and go check the bathroom myself, she returned, with strange, distant eyes and a slight smile. When she sat down, I took her hand and she spoke.
“All this time, I was holding a grudge against you for what happened at prom, for ruining my life. I thought you just couldn’t be bothered to come; I blamed you for everything, the humiliation I endured, the pain I’d experienced since. That night…that was supposed to be the best night of my life and it turned out to be the worst. The night…” She looked up, our eyes meeting. “That was the night I was going to lose my virginity to you.”
I nodded, looking away once again; unable to bear the suffering I saw there, the suffering I had caused.
“And all this time,” her soft voice continued, “I’ve blamed you for everything that followed. My grudge held me back in all my relationships afterwards.”
Her pale trembling hand took mine, but her teary eyes were staring over my shoulder, not at something in the restaurant, but at something else entirely.
“But now… I don’t know. Maybe it’s the wine or me being silly but I think, Clark, I think all along this grudge, this perceived hang-up was something that resided in me this whole time. I carried this bitterness, this fear within me since that night. Men failed me because I expected them to, boyfriends couldn’t take the responsibility of being my first and let me down time and time again because that was what I expected for them.”
Our fingers were laced together; I couldn’t tell you what strange feeling my heart had right now.
“And so, Clark, thank you for tonight, for telling me the truth. For everything.” Her eyes were still full of tears, but now, her lips were smiling.
“What does this mean?” I asked. “Do you not want to go through with tonight?”
She squeezed my hand.
“Only if you want to. As far as I’m concerned, with these past two nights we’ve spent together and the insight you’ve given me, you’ve more than made up for what you did that night.”
I squeezed her hand.
“I want to if you do.”
Smiling slightly again, Kristin took another drink of her wine.
“How about we see how the night progresses?”
I nodded and took a drink from my own wine glass, to obscure the smile working its way onto my face. Not long after, the waiter reappeared with the same offer for dessert as before. This time, I gladly accepted.
“What would we like?” I asked Kristin and, her smile was glowing.
“Chocolate mousse cake please!”
It seemed only seconds of our easy, eager conversation and enjoyable wine sips had passed before the man’s chubby fingers were setting on our table a plate with a hulking slice of cake.
And then we dug in, feeding each other little bites of the decadent dessert. All too fast did we devour the chocolate thing and ask for the bill. After paying, I held out an arm to Kristin, which she accepted, and then we were off. A few feet out the door, I realized just how much wine I had had.
“Do you mind if we take a taxi or a limo?” I asked Kristin and she shrugged.
“I’m fine with anything.”
I paused, peering down the road.
“What do you say about a walk? We’re only about twenty minutes from my place.”
Kristin nodded and off we went.
As we walked, she asked, “Isn’t this towards the woods?”
With a smirk and another tap on her nose, I nodded.
“Exactly.”
Chapter Eight
Kristin
As we walked along the tree-lined road, it was funny, everything was fuzzy yet clear. The woods and the evergreen air were clear, but my thoughts, my feelings, Clark’s handsome face, were all fuzzy. Whether this was a good idea, whether I would actually go through with what we had planned, I couldn’t be sure.
All I knew at that moment, as Clark held my hand and led me to his house, was that I was happy. We didn’t speak, only played with each other’s fingers. We didn’t need to say anything, the forest was saying it all for us with its the quiet calm, broken only by the odd hoot of an owl. No, we didn’t need to say anything because it was all perfect already.
When we finally reached the tall wooden structure of Clark’s home, I was out of breath, though not quite so much that I couldn’t gasp when we saw it. It was the most beautiful house I’d ever seen.
“Don’t expect to see Nala anywhere,” Clark joked. Seeing my awed expression, he took my hand and led me through the door, saying, “you haven’t seen anything yet.”
Inside he led me up a stunning flight of marble stairs, then another flight of stairs, then down a long hallway. At the end, was an empty room. Well, a room that was not quite empty. It did have a broad window, a window Clark brought me to. Grabbing the handle and twisting it, he opened the broad glass pane. There was no screen in it, just like mine. Then, in one fluid motion, he got up and sat on it, balanced on the thick windowsill with his legs dangling down into thin air. Patting the space beside him, he asked, “Will you join me?”
Without a word, I hopped up too, and sat beside him in the same position, my legs dangling down.
I was silent for a minute before, finally, saying “You too?”
Turning to me, Clark smiled. “You too?”
I nodded, glancing away from his intent gaze although I couldn’t as easily escape his sincere voice, sounding into the night.
“Sometimes, I don’t know why, it all seems…too much I guess. So, I sit up here and I don’t really think of much, I just breathe in the air.”
He had taken my hand, but I couldn’t tell if it was because he really felt the strange poignancy of our shared habit or if it was just because that was what you did next when you were trying to sleep with a woman.
“Doesn’t it ever make you feel—sitting up here, I mean,” I started to say, “I don’t know…lonely and hopeful and sad all at once?”
Clark’s answer was bullet-fast and sharp. “No.”
Silence, and then, haltingly, he said, “Maybe. I don’t know what it makes me feel.”
Another silence, and then he said, “But tonight—will you look at that—the view, it’s gorgeous.”
And then, all the way up there, our hands clasping once more, w
e took in the Sacramento cityscape miles below.
“Gorgeous” was too weak a word for what we saw, for the symphony of little lights laid out before us. Hauntingly, heartbreakingly beautiful might have been more accurate. Maybe. Because the sight before us, the cool wisp of wind, the forest-fresh air, the warm hand of the man beside me—all of it was enough to bring tears to my eyes.
Sitting there, the view somehow reminded me of the past few days, and all the crazy things that had happened. Me, making a website to change my fate. Me, humiliating myself. Me, getting up after the latest disappointment and trying again. And, the craziest thing of all, the man beside me, the man I had once thought ruined my life—Clark Denton, the conceited jerk, the uncaring bastard—proving himself to be a sensitive, considerate man who maybe, just maybe, I could sleep with after all.
“You’re crying,” Clark whispered, his lips at my ear. “Are you sad?” he asked, pausing, his dark eyes scanning my face, looking downcast himself.
I only shook my head, and whispered, “Right now, I’m happy.”
And then his lips touched mine, and I forgot what I felt, I forgot who I was, I forgot everything. Everything except those soft lips pressing against mine, and that equally soft tongue, licking and flicking and sliding around mine, into my mouth, ever so gently.
Mouths locked, we hopped off the windowsill onto the floor, made our way down another hallway. The next thing I knew we were in a bedroom with a bed with white silk sheets and we were on it, in it, in those white silk sheets. Clark’s hands were sliding all over my body, my arms, my legs, and my face. My body was giving in to him entirely; everything was a relaxed following of what came before, was only natural. My white dress joined the white sheets, and now Clark was covering me with kisses, soft sucking kisses. My whole body was trembling, but he had only just begun.
Yes, now he was running his fingers through my hair, undoing my bra, slipping his hands where the cups had been. His fingers were so gentle on my breasts. Massaging them in long confident strokes, it seemed like he could feel them forever. Then, his hands were sliding down, were around my panties and I knew it was time.
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