by L. W. Clark
“Both.”
While we had dinner, another meat-loving-looking-man approached him to say hello. It was the same handshake and small conversation. He didn’t introduce me to him.
“You seem to be popular here,” I smiled.
“They’re just business colleagues. I’m leaving tomorrow morning on business for a week. Can I call you from there?”
“I don’t use the family phone where I work. I don’t think they would like that.”
“They wouldn’t mind a quick phone call, would they?”
I need to change the conversation.
“Probably not but work is work,” I said. “I don’t think I can give you their phone number without their permission. You know them, right? They’re your neighbors.”
“I know of them, but I don’t know them. I see them occasionally on the rooftop. But I don’t look there often.”
“You might not be looking but others are looking at you. I saw you naked.”
“You did? When?”
“That day you helped me, on the rooftop.”
“Really? I don’t remember. But I’m sure you saw me. I do like being naked.”
“I named you naked man. That’s what I called you when I chatted with my roommate.”
“Seems about right.”
We laughed and laughed. The food and the company were great. He had a car waiting for me to take me home. He kissed me on the cheek as we said our goodnights. I stared out at the East River as the car headed south on FDR Drive.
What do I like about him? Do I even like him? Maybe. No … no, I can’t like him. I do love this dress and these shoes. I can’t believe I have them on and they’re mine. Where am I ever going to wear this dress again? I would feel bad if this dress would just hang in the closet all the time. No, it won’t. I’ll wear it again when I go out with Gilles. With Gilles?
Did I say with Gilles again? Do I like him because I think of him? OK, maybe I do. But why? Why do I like him? Maybe because he’s handsome? No, no, that’s not the reason at all. First of all, he’s not that handsome. I’m not blind. And what about his age? He’s so much older than me. Yes, but maybe that’s exactly what I like about him. Maybe I like that he’s older. Because of the comfort I feel around him. Maybe I like that he’s self-assured and powerful, and it makes me feel safe. Maybe because I didn’t have enough quality time with a man after my father’s death, and I’m missing that? Maybe I like his generosity.
Wait, I know. I just like being there. I like being around him because I just miss having a social life. That’s why I feel happy with him. Plus, he’s fun. I laugh all the time and I feel free with him. Otherwise, there’s really no attraction to him. Well, maybe there is. What about every time he touches me? I get goosebumps, and I feel hot and nervous at the same time. Why do I have butterflies in my stomach every time he looks at me? Probably because I miss being with a man, and sex. My body is starving for sex. OK, but if my body is starving for sex, why didn’t I have any desire to see Jeff? There would’ve been sex with him, after another date or two. Or what about Zachary kissing me and I didn’t want to keep going? Because I don’t like them. Exactly! I don’t like them, but I do like Gilles. I didn’t realize just how much I do like him until now. I have to admit, I can’t wait to say hello to the man I just said goodbye to.
When I got home, I discovered that Zachary had moved out. He was gone and so was my necklace. I felt sad, like I lost a connection with Max.
TWENTY-FIVE
June 1997, Brooklyn
School and Gilles, Gilles and School. That’s all I thought about the next week while I was working. I was thrilled to start school on Monday. I wanted to see Gilles and I wanted to see the school. I was so curious about everything. The school, the teacher, the students. I was late getting to Brooklyn because of train delays. I was sure Gilles would leave a message on the answering machine, but he didn’t.
I’m surprised he hasn’t called. How is that possible? Was he into me? Is he married? If he was, how could he be comfortable taking me to public places? He even introduced me to those guys at the restaurant. Or maybe he does that with girls? Uses them as eye candy? Maybe it was just a couple of days of fun? And actually, that would be fine. I’d almost be relieved. I don’t need a relationship. I like him, but then I could focus on my studying and plans.
“Silvia,” I said, “since I’m going to stay at your place more often because of school please let me pay some rent money.”
“Oh stop.”
“No, really. I want to. It would make me feel better. It would be good for both of us.”
After a little more resistance, she agreed. The first day of school made me forget about all Gilles. It was exciting to meet the teacher and all the students. It was a joy. The teacher had a way of explaining things so everyone understood. I spent eight hours at school, and I couldn’t wait to go back the next day.
That evening I did my homework, stayed at home and went to sleep early. I was wiped out, from school and from trying not to think about Gilles. He never called, which made me even more ambitious.
I had new friends from all over the world. There were about twenty students in the class. I became friends with Columbians, Asians, Argentinians and Mexicans. It was a high energy, fun class. It was like we were all the same, but with different languages. We helped each other, as friends do. We were spending all day together with just a few breaks. Some of them would go out for lunch; others would bring food. I didn’t do either because I didn’t want to spend any money. I sat next to a guy who didn’t eat lunch either. He was doing his homework. His name was Franco, from Argentina. He was around my age, skinny and hyper. Even while he was sitting, he was still moving, like tapping his legs or his fingers, or spinning in his chair. Watching him made me dizzy.
“Where do you live, Franco?” I asked.
“In Jersey City, with four guys,” he said excitedly. “I moved here six months ago. I live with my cousin and his three friends. I can’t afford to live by myself yet. I’m still looking for a job and I have to be at school because of my student visa. Have you done the homework for the next subject?”
“The grammar class? Yes, I did,” I said. “I’m not sure how good it is, but I finished it.”
“Do you mind if I copy it from you? I didn’t have enough time to do it last night. I had a few beers with my roomies,” he smiled, as he continued his tapping.
This is a troublemaker, but he seems like a good guy.
“Sure, here,” I smiled. “But don’t blame me if the teacher says your homework is full of mistakes.”
“I won’t. I don’t care about mistakes. As long as I have the work done—to show him.”
After a long day of school, everyone’s face looked worn and tired. The minute the class was dismissed, everyone bolted from the room so quickly. Franco and I were the last to leave because he couldn’t find his MetroCard. I was thinking his MetroCard must’ve flown out of his pocket from all his moving around.
“Here it is!” I said, picking it up from the floor by the window.
“Thank you!” he said. “You saved me. I don’t know how I would get home without this.”
We left the building and walked towards the subway.
“Are you taking the subway to Jersey City?” I asked.
“No, the subway doesn’t go there,” he said. “I take the PATH. You go by subway, right?”
“Yes,” I said as we walked past a hot dog cart.
“That food smells so good,” I said. “I’m starving. I haven’t eaten all day.”
“Me neither,” he said. “I’m so hungry. All I have in my pocket is my MetroCard. I hope I get home first so I can have the leftovers from last night.”
He smiled and started walking faster.
“I love pizza,” I said. “It’s my favorite food. I’d love to have a slice right now.”
“I can eat pizza anytime. Especially now, but…”, he shrugged.
“Let’s have some,” I said.
“There’s a pizza place right on this corner.”
“I can’t. I don’t have any money. Not even a penny in my pocket, look.”
He turned his pants pockets inside out and we both laughed.
““But I do. Let’s go,” I said. “I’ll pay for your slice.”
“Thank you, but no. Another time, when I have money, after I find a job.”
“Come on, let’s go,” I said. “I’m starving.”
I grabbed Franco’s arm and pulled him into the pizzeria. After two slices of pizza and a can of Pepsi, we were both happy as we headed home. I had to borrow some money from Silvia for the train the next day, but the pizza was worth it.
I was back on Long Island around 8 a.m. The kids were visiting their grandparents, so I thought I’d give Anna and Michael some private time. I finished all my work, said goodnight and went to my room.
It wasn’t long before I heard knocking on my door.
It’s probably Anna with more work for me to do.
I opened the door and Michael was standing there with a box.
“Here you go, someone found your book. You left it on the grocery store counter.” he said as he handed me the box.
“My book? What book?”
“You know, your English vocabulary book? When we went to the city and Anna sent you for some milk or something that day? I don’t know. Anyway, you left this on the counter. Who goes to the grocery store with their vocabulary book?” he asked, shaking his head.
“Thanks, Michael.”
“Don’t thank me, thank our neighbor. He’s the one who found it. It was nice of him to return it.”
I said goodnight to Mr. Corrector. I returned to my bed and opened the box. Inside was another box and a letter:
Dear Alyssa,
I hope you’re well.
I bought you this cellphone so we can stay in touch. And don’t worry about your bosses. I made up a story so they would just hand this to you. Please dial my number when you can so I know you received the package.
Hope to see you soon,
Gilles
I didn’t call him that night, but I did sleep well. After work the next day I took a shower and went to bed. I got my new cellphone from its hiding place and I called Gilles around ten o’clock.
We talked about everything. Food, movies, everyday life. We laughed—a lot. As usual. I’d laugh about my English when I misunderstood what he said, and he had to explain it. By the time we hung up it was one o’clock in the morning. He told me he was in Chicago and then he had to go to London. The next day we spoke even longer. I should’ve been doing my homework at night, but we just kept talking, like best friends.
After three weeks I became much better at communicating on the phone. Studying English was one thing, putting it into practice was another. It was the best. I was on my way to Brooklyn when my cell phone rang.
Who could that be? Oh … Gilles. Who else?
“Hello?” I said, laughing.
“Hello, Alyssa, how are you?” he said.
He sounds serious. He must be in that mood I don’t like.
“I don’t have a lot of time,” he said. “I wanted to let you know I’m back in the city and I’d like to see you tomorrow. How about lunch, around one o’clock?”
“I can’t do lunch. I have school all day.”
“Can you skip school?”
“I can’t. I have to attend for a certain number of hours.”
“I’m super busy tomorrow evening or else …. ok, let me go. We’ll talk later.”
He hung up. My cell phone and I were lonely all evening. But everything brightened up the next morning when the phone rang.
“Good morning, Alyssa,” he said. “I rearranged things for tonight. Let’s go to the King Cole Bar, in the St. Regis Hotel. Can you meet me outside, at the corner of 55th and 5th at ten o’clock?
“Sure,” I said. “See you then.”
I went home right after school. It was getting dark as I dressed and put my beautiful high heels on. I was so happy to wear them again. I put on eyeliner and mascara. I covered my face with a natural colored powder and my lips with light red lipstick. I looked in the mirror, and I liked what I saw. My heart was soaring as I left the apartment. But I struggled to ignore the negative thoughts in the back of my mind.
I saw him right away as I approached 55th Street. He was standing with his serious look. I started walking faster when he saw me. He watched me the whole time. I felt like I was on his personal runway.
I reached him. He looked into my eyes. I tilted my head and looked at him. Neither of us said a word. I moved closer to him, to his face. My heart was pounding. I looked into his eyes, then at his lips, and I kissed him. Deeply. He pulled me close and kissed me back. I closed my eyes. I felt high from kissing him. We kissed more, and more, until we both needed oxygen. We looked at each other. He hugged me so tight. My entire head was covered by his arms. I felt so warm and sexual. I could’ve had an orgasm just kissing him. We kissed again, and then took a breath.
“I put red lipstick on for this evening. but you ate it,” I smiled.
“Yes, thank you for that,” he said. “Delicious.”
He smiled and took my hand as we went inside. We had a lovely evening. He never mentioned anything about his feelings. We never talked about what we were thinking.
Between our jobs and my school, it was hard to find time to see each other. When he had time, I didn’t. When I was free, he couldn’t always make it because of his business. We talked on the phone almost every day, sometimes two or three times a day. I was learning a lot from our long conversations. On one call he invited me to his house for dinner. I always thought there was a big difference between dinner at a restaurant and dinner at home. I felt trusted and respected by him. I was flattered.
“I’m looking forward to seeing you tonight,” he said. “I can show you my home.”
“Yes, and thank you for inviting me. I remember it as a lovely place,” I smiled.
“I promise I won’t greet you naked,” he said.
“You can, if you want.”
“Hmm … well … maybe,” he said as we laughed.
“Would you please wear your new dress and those shoes?” he asked. “Another good friend of mine will be joining us for dinner. Actually, he’s a friend and he works for me. He’s an interior designer and he’s done a lot of work on my house.”
“That’s nice. Sure. I can’t wait to wear that dress again.”
I rang Gilles’s doorbell and he opened the door. I wanted to kiss him badly, but the friend was standing behind him. I walked in.
“Hello, you must be Alyssa. My name is Mark.”
He already knows my name?
“Hey wait,” Gilles smiled. “I was supposed to do the introductions.”
“Hi, Mark, nice to meet you,” I smiled as we shook hands.
A woman in a white apron came out from the kitchen. She walked over to Mark.
“Hello,” I said to her.
Who is this woman? His mother, or an aunt? Or maybe his wife is cooking dinner for us?
I giggled at my thoughts, and the others gave me a surprised look.
“Let me at least introduce her,” Gilles said. “This is our great friend Mona. Mona, this is Alyssa.”
“Very nice to meet you, Mona,” I said.
“Mona’s going to make us a fantastic dinner tonight, right Mona?”
Mona just smiled and shook her head yes.
“Mark, before we sit for dinner, do you mind if I show Alyssa the house?” Gilles said.
“Not all,” Mark said. “I’ll join Mona in the kitchen. Cocktails for everyone?”
“That would be great,” Gilles said. “What would you like to drink, Alyssa? Or would you like to try his specialty. It’s very good.”
“If it’s very good then I’ll have that one,” I said.
They all smiled. Gilles took my hand to give me the tour. The first floor was a big open space with a living room, a
separate lounge in the corner with a fireplace and a dining room. There was a large gourmet kitchen. The modern looking staircase led to the second floor with Gilles’s office and three guest rooms, each with a bathroom. On the third floor was his master bedroom, with a big walk-in closet and wide double doors that led to the balcony. The entire house had a contemporary French style. Most of the furniture was European influenced. It was all tastefully furnished and well organized, with clean lines. There was a small fireplace in the master bedroom and heavy dark green curtains pulled back from the windows and balcony doors.
I can imagine it being very cozy in this room on a rainy day.
Gilles led me outside to the balcony. He put his arm on my shoulder, pulling me closer to him as we looked around.
Damn, I’m feeling sexual. I need to control myself and not blush. I think he wants to kiss me but with Mark and Mona downstairs he probably doesn’t want to start what he can’t finish. Look at Anna and Michael’s rooftop over there. That was a crazy night. I remember being afraid and mad at myself at the same time. But then again, if I didn’t lock myself out, I might never be here.
We went back to his office on the second floor. He wanted to show me a magazine. The office looked more like a library. There were a desk and chair. In the center of the room were two armchairs looking toward the windows. The other wall had built-in shelves, with books and magazines of all shapes and sizes.
“Have you read all these books?” I asked.
“Most of them,” he said as he looked for the magazine he wanted to show me.
“Ahh ... here it is,” he said.
“How do you know which books or magazines are where?”
“I don’t know. I just start looking and somehow, I find them. You know, when you’re looking for something, you always seem to find it, right? It may take time but eventually you do,” he said as he turned to look at me.
“Here’s the magazine I wanted to show you. This is a Vogue issue published on April 1, 1923.”
I stared at the magazine, not saying a word.
“This is so beautiful,” I finally said. “I love the cover. This is art.”
