by Paloma Meir
“I’m trying my best to be patient, but don’t people with casual arrangements kiss each other a lot?” She put her book down and asked. She was so beautiful I thought as I sat up. I didn’t know what I wanted from her, and I was pretty sure she had no idea what she wanted from me. She was still texting Danny, but spending her days rolling around with me in mad embraces.
“I’m glad you asked about that. Yes, that’s what people in “casual arrangements” do, but today we’re going to take a big step. I’m going to feel you up. It’s the natural progression.” The only way to figure it out was to take it to the next level.
“I should probably take off my bra so you get the full effect.” She giggled, good decision on my part, “Turn around,” I would have, but it all happened so quickly. Her arms contorted under her shirt, the bra coming off through her sleeve. I even saw maybe a millimeter or two of her actual breasts as her shirt moved upward in the engineering feat she accomplished, “I’m ready.”
Under her shirt my hand went, taking her whole breast in hand, the fullness almost making me dizzy, my finger flicked across her nipple, “I was hoping they were implants. Oh well.” I kissed her hard, my hand lightly squeezing her breast, “Am I making you frustrated?”
“Yes. I’m going to die from this. I love it.” I had no idea what she meant with all of her talk of being frustrated and feeling like she was going to die, but I liked hearing it. “I have two breasts Serge. I need balance.”
She took my other hand and placed it under her shirt. I looked around our little plateau. We were shaded in by tress. The main road far away, privacy semi-guaranteed. I wondered how far we could take the day.
“I’m going to put my hand down your pants.”
“Do you always announce what you’re going to do before you do it?”
“I don’t want to be accused of rape,” I laughed, but it wasn’t funny. It was horrible. Her body stiffened, her eyes clouded over, her breath quickened, “Zelda, I’m sorry. I joke too much. That wasn’t funny at all.” I took my hands out from under shirt, not knowing how to apologize, what to say to her.
“I’m fine.” She was not fine. She held her hand over her heart, patting gently, and took tiny controlled breaths.
“Do you want to talk about it? Forget this game we’re playing. I’m your friend. Talk to me.” I put my hands on her shoulders, but her head drooped down.
“No.”
“Get it out. You’re giving it power by holding it in.” I let go of her shoulders and took her hands in mine, not knowing how to help her.
“I don’t need therapy talk.” She shrieked before calming her tone. “I had five years of that. I’m so bored with it. So much time can go by without me remembering it, and then someone will look at me in a predatory way or say a key word like princess or something equally benign and then it’s all back. When I gave birth to Louisa, he crossed my mind. I’ll never be free. I said a prayer that she would be strong enough to fight off the Spider’s of this world.” She wiped angry tears out of her eyes, “I hate it and I know I’m lucky. A lot of women can’t even enjoy sex after... that experience. If it wasn’t for Danny... I’m sorry I know that’s against our rules.”
“In that context, it’s okay. Come here.” She sat up next to me, allowing me to comfort her. I wrapped my arms around her, and held her very tightly, protectively. I couldn’t believe me of all people could say something so insensitive, so thoughtless to her. I looked down at her. She stared blankly out at the city below us in a trance-like state, her breathing normal again.
“Let’s go shopping, Serge.” She said suddenly maybe ten minutes later, jarring me out of the meditative state I had fallen into while staring out at the skyline with her, “You have zero sense of style. I want you to look nice for your first day at work. Let’s go down the hill to Barney’s.”
“Not on my budget rich girl.” I did not want her to take me shopping.
“Stop that. I have so much money. Until I went to Paris I hardly ever touched it. I went a little crazy there. Well you know that... I am going to take you shopping. I’m adding it to my list, a gigolo experience. We could kiss in the dressing room, another check mark on my list. Please Serge let’s go. It’ll be fun. I’m very well known in the store. The level of service I receive... You’ll like it too.”
“You don’t have a terminal illness do you? This list of yours is getting weird. You didn’t actually write all this down?” I laughed, relieved at her recovery.
“I’m making this list up as I go along. I’ve come to realize that I’m a serial monogamist. I want to have fun before I meet my destiny and spend the rest of my life with... In so many books that I’ve read, the characters have regrets at the end of their lives. I don’t want to be like that. For whatever reason I’m incredibly privileged. It would be wrong not to enjoy that. So I’m going to take you shopping.”
The sweetness of her could be painful to listen to at times.
“Okay weirdo.” What choice did I have in the matter after my boorish words to her? “I’ll be your gigolo. Although I believe the fantasy is full sex in the dressing room. You up for that?”
“I’m never going to have sex with you.” She said in a singsong way.
“I know,” I knew no such thing, but it was fine either way “Heads up most 'privileged' people give back. You might want to add that to your 'list'.” I got up to clean up our lunch of baguettes and cheeses, and put it back in her basket.
“You told me not to talk about my plans. If you must know, that’s a big part of my marriage plan. I won’t say anymore.” She smiled as she folded up the blanket.
My guilt didn’t allow me to question her plan. Maybe she was right. Danny would never have said such a thing to her. He knew her language, her sensitivities. I could mock the ridiculousness of her feelings for him, how naive their relationship was to the end of time, but never could I fool myself into thinking that on some level they didn’t share an unbreakable bond.
…
Barney’s was different from our other day journeys. The places where I took her, the shine of her stuck out with her polished appearance, and “mom” clothes, which were just modestly sexy casual outfits. She was like a canary diamond in a pound of cheap cut glass.
At Barney’s I was the off one, the grungy kid in an adult mans body. Sure there were people dressed as I was, in the mailman shorts, and faded ironic t-shirts, but theirs were the designer version. The holes in their shoes manufactured, not from wearing them day in and day out, too cheap to buy a new pair until they had completely fallen apart.
She had been right about the level of service. Everyone knew her name, stopping to chat, admire her at unhealthy levels that only fed her massive ego that never failed to charm me. It took a good fifteen minutes to reach the men’s department on the top floor of the store with everyone talking to her.
She grabbed clothes left and right piling them into the sales assistants hands. They talked to her about her dad and how he had just been in the store a few days before. I sensed her feelings of guilt for not having spoken to her parents or letting them know she now lived in Los Angeles. I really wanted to know why she was avoiding them, but it wasn’t the time to ask about it.
She did not wait on the sofa outside the dressing room as I tried on the clothes. She came in with me instead, helping me off with the clothes, buttoning me up as if I were a child. She sighed as she occasionally swept her hand across my chest.
I felt lightheaded from her attentions, her consideration to the detail of how the clothes should fit, telling me certain shirts were too boxy. She instructed me on color combinations, as if she had forgotten that I had been a well-dressed teen, and neatly color coordinated at the very least in college.
To calm her down from her shopping mania, I kissed her as agreed upon, up against the wall, shirtless only wearing suit pants below. She hadn’t put her bra back on after our lunch up on the mountaintop of Mulholland, and her t-shirt was thin. With my eyes close
d, it felt as if we were nude together. I held her tighter against me.
“Oh Serge...” She pulled away from me, “We need to get the pants hemmed.” She stepped away from me to survey the fit, “I can’t call them in here to do that with you like this.”
I looked down not knowing what she was talking about, only to see a prominent stiffness poking through the light wool fabric.
“Stop that Serge.” She ran her hand over my cock as if that would settle it down. I wasn’t even erect. The stiffness was my default state since I started spending my days with her. Truthfully, I was a little numb from the constant semi-engorgement.
“You touching me like that is not going to help,” I started laughing. “I’ll have the dry-cleaners hem them when you’re not with me.” I pulled her back and kissed her.
“You promise? I don’t want you going into work with droopy hems.”
“No droopy hems,” I wanted to devour her, “I promise.”
“You’re distracting me,” she whispered as I ran my nose over her ear, “I need to find you a coat.”
“We’re done shopping,” I glanced over at the knee-high pile of keepers in the corner of the spacious dressing room. She mumbled “no,” through her breathy sigh as I continued kissing her ear and graceful neck.
It was hard to pull her away, but I did it. I played with her hair as we sat on the sofa together waiting for the salespeople to wrap up the purchases and ring up the bill. I sat watching her. I couldn’t see a way where she wouldn’t drift away with my upcoming hectic schedule.
“Some friends from school are getting together next week to celebrate passing the bar. I want you to go with me.”
“Are you asking me out on a date?”
“Yes, Zelda. Will you go on a “date” with me?”
“As long as it’s mid-day, I would love to.”
“Dinner party at night. I’ll pick you up at eight.” The salesman handed her the bill. I wished I hadn’t seen it. It was a little less than the cost of one semester of law school.
“I’m sorry Serge. That’s my time with Louisa.”
“What time does she go to sleep?”
“Around eight.”
“Then it shouldn’t be a problem. You have Astrid.”
“Okay but I don’t want to make a habit of it. I got my craving for nightlife out of my system already.”
“It’s dinner not a club crawl. Next Thursday.”
…
Blissful turned into nirvana as I drove back to Malibu after dropping her off at home. I knew I would have to warn Danny I had invited her to the dinner. I knew he wouldn’t be happy about it, but I didn’t care. Friend or temporary “high school” girlfriend, she was a part of my life. I wasn’t going to let her go.
I walked into the house with my armload of bags to see Danny in the kitchen chopping garlic. I felt a little embarrassed. I couldn’t explain the circumstances of the bizarre shopping binge with Zelda, and we both knew that multiple bags from Barney’s was not in my budget.
My state of nirvana dropped to the not so bad level of familiar Zelda induced buzzing happiness as I went into the kitchen to talk to my friend.
“Sarah’s going to be here in about an hour. I’m making linguine alla checca. You up for dinner with us?” he preemptively asked as if he knew what I was about to say.
“Sure sounds good. I have to talk to you.”
“I’m not interested unless it's about you rinsing the lettuce.” He didn’t look up from the cutting board.
“I invited Zelda to the dinner next week.”
“She’s still texting me, every two or three days now. She’s unstable. You should get away from her.” He sped up his chopping, being forceful with the knife. I worried he was going to chop off one of his fingers.
“Dude, I watched you go through the same thing a few months ago. Why don’t you just call her, and let her say whatever she wants to say. Let her down easy if that’s what you really want.”
“Not going to happen. Doesn’t it bother you? Her obsessing on me?”
“We don’t talk about you. She’s with Louisa most of the time. She’s not hiding in the bushes out front. We have a unique relationship.”
“That’s what I thought. I’m sure that’s what Paolo thought. It’s probably what her waiter thought too. She’s selfish, borderline evil. We don’t need to talk about her anymore. It’s a big restaurant. Sit as far away from me as possible and don’t make a habit of bringing her around.” As he said 'around,' the knife sliced through his finger, not cutting it off, but causing a deep gash.
He threw the whole cutting board with the bloody garlic into the trash, reached over to the sink and ran cold water over the wound, while pulling out a new cutting board and knife with his free hand. His coordination impressed me to the point that it took me a minute of watching before I realized what he had said about Zelda. “What waiter? Where’s the lettuce? I’ll rinse it.” I opened the refrigerator and took out the romaine as he began the impressive feat of one-handed garlic chopping. His other hand was still under the running water.
“She fucked some waiter in Barcelona a few years ago because he reminded her of me. That’s the kind of person you’re dealing with.” He shook his head slowly as if he were sorely disappointed in her. I almost laughed. “Easy virtue, you know?” Okay bro, throw out some more antiquated terms.
“Three men in her twenty-eight years? Fucking Whore of Babylon. The waiter story is hot.” It was hot, in spite of spoiling my toyed with idea of suggesting myself as a one night stand for her infamous list. You go, Zelda.
I laughed at the ridiculousness of him suggesting Zelda was promiscuous as I walked to the door to let Sarah in.
If I hadn’t been so happy, so carefree, I would have noticed he was falling apart, that his anger was becoming destructive. I would have kept Zelda far away from him, instead of thinking he would adjust to her being part of my life. But I was happy, and I didn’t notice. This would be the worst mistake of all the ones I made.
…
I pulled up to her house the day before our ‘big date' to find her porch empty. I looked around confused. I didn’t know if I should get out of the car and knock on the door or continue waiting outside in my car.
As I opened my door a few minutes later to go knock on her door, a cream colored convertible Maserati pulled up in front of my Prius, music blaring. Two of the most beautiful women I had ever laid eyes on in my life sat in the car. The women would be Zelda and her old friend, Veronica.
Zelda gave Veronica a kiss on the cheek and bounced out of her car towards me. As her back turned, Veronica waved to me. I waved back feeling pretty good her bad feelings towards me had faded over the years. She flipped me off and mouthed, fuck you. I continued smiling and waving, digging her angry spirit. She drove away at a high speed. Sexy as fuck is what Veronica was, always had been.
“Veronica says hello.” She jumped in my car and started chattering away about our big date night, talking about what she was going to wear, asking how she should style her hair. She had been going on about it for days, playfully making a big deal about it in her winsome way.
I wasn’t paying attention. I thought of my one night with Veronica. My thoughts lost in the what if's. What if I hadn’t left that night? Would I have stayed in Peru all those years? Would I be an astrophysicist in this alternate universe? Would we have stayed together all these years? Would I be working for the media mogul that was her father, living a life of quiet desperation?
“You’re not listening to me Serge.”
“Sorry, Zelda,” I patted her knee while keeping my eyes on the road. “The black one, wear the black one.”
“Serge,” she laughed, “I wasn’t asking you about a dress... I don’t think I’m going to repeat what I said. Now you’ll never know.”
I pulled the car over to the side of the road, unbuckled my seatbelt, leaned over and kissed her for a very long time, “Forgive me. I don’t want to miss one word out of yo
ur mouth.”
“Serrrrrrge,” She hugged me tightly, her mouth against my ear, “I was saying that I was going to miss you when you start your job. It’s not going to be the same.”
“That’s not true,” I pulled myself out of her iron grip and looked into her eyes, “I’m going to see you, Zelda. It won’t be every day, but I’m not going anywhere away from you.”
“It will be different, Serge. Why did you want to be a lawyer? It wouldn’t matter even if you weren’t... so different... everything’s going to change.”
“Zelda, Zelda, Zelda, stop... I am not letting you go,” I paused to gently kiss her lips, “Money, that’s why I am a lawyer. We’ve talked about this a lot, rich girl... Smile for me.” Her eyes were getting a wild look that was never a good sign.