Certain Requirements

by Elinor Zimmerman

  “What inspired this?”

  “Phoenix, actually.” Kris tried to catch my eye and then smiled when I met her gaze. “Phe, you’re so good balancing your life. You make time for the things that you enjoy. It made me wonder if there are other things I might want to try.”

  “Actually, I worked ridiculous hours for years and made huge sacrifices to have a career I didn’t hate. It must be really nice to make a ton of money doing something you love and then be able to sell your company and retire whenever you feel like,” I snapped.

  Meghan and Kris exchanged surprised looks. I didn’t even care. “Well, I should probably get going,” Meghan said cautiously. “Thank you for dinner, Phoenix. It was great.”

  “You’re welcome.” I still sounded snippy.

  She gave me a hug anyway, and mouthed “Call me” as she headed out.

  “Do you need help?” Kris asked me when Meghan left.

  “All done.”

  “I know that our plans turned out a little differently than they usually do, but it’s about eight thirty. Do you want to…?”

  In all the months we’d been involved, I’d never turned her down when the appointed hour rolled around. I’d never even considered it. That night, I pursed my lips, over-enunciated the word, “no,” and went to bed.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Kris didn’t press about my little outburst. She didn’t even ask. But she handled me differently, like I was something fragile or explosive. The connection that had been growing between us seemed to dissolve. Once again, we only saw each other in that lavender room. We played harder in the days that followed, but with more distance between us. I did my chores and went about my life, internally kicking myself for ruining everything. At least I had an end in sight—if I got hired for the tour.

  I was standing in front of the dairy case in Whole Foods the next week worrying about the tour gig when someone tapped me on the shoulder.

  “Hi, Phoenix,” Ray said shyly.

  What was the etiquette in a situation like this? Before Kris, all the sex I’d had in my life had been with long-term sweethearts. I’d never had a one-night stand, let alone whatever this was with Ray.

  “Um, hi, Ray. How are you?”

  “Good! Good. How are you?”

  “Good.” Then Ray rambled for a while about why they were at Whole Foods. “…And I don’t normally shop here because it doesn’t support unions, but you know, it’s more convenient since I don’t have a car, and anyway, we do want organic, so my Sirs told me to just stop worrying about it and go buy some eggs already. So, you know, here I am.”

  “Uh-huh,” I said.

  “You live really close by, right?”

  “Yeah, I can walk here.”

  “I come here all the time. Like, too much. Maybe I could hit you up next time I’m around? And we could get coffee?” Ray bounced from foot to foot.

  There was something about Ray’s lack of bravado, the total contrast from Kris’s typical confidence, that charmed me. Also, Ray was cute and we’d had hot sex and I didn’t know anyone else in a situation like mine, so I said yes. I gave Ray my number, Ray called so I had theirs, and we went our separate ways. By the time I got home, Ray and I had already arranged a coffee date for the following week.

  I didn’t tell Kris. Why would I? We weren’t talking outside of our scenes. It was becoming a silent war in the house, each of us trying to say as little as possible to the other.

  Things were weird with Meghan too. After our dinner—or rather, my post-dinner pouting—we hadn’t seen each other. She had a big case, but she wanted to talk. After making coffee plans with Ray, I called her back. We finally nailed down a lunch date for that Saturday, but then I casually mentioned my lunch plans to Sasha and she mistook it as an invitation. Sasha and Meghan knew each other a little through me and were friendly, and the three of us hung out every once in a while, so Sasha’s misunderstanding made sense.

  What did not make sense was that I didn’t correct her. She wouldn’t have been offended and would barely have grumbled about it, but I said nothing. I told Meghan at the last minute via text with a weak apology, giving her no chance to change plans. Honestly, I didn’t really want to be alone with Meghan. I loved her, but I felt strange about Kris’s openness with her for reasons I didn’t understand. To avoid dealing with these feelings, I’d brought Sasha, who always took up a room. And I’d brought a story that I knew would distract my lunch companions.

  They both knew about the threesome, and I knew my plans with Ray would keep the conversation away from my unusual reaction at dinner the other night. Which it did, though not in the way I expected.

  “That is a fucking terrible idea,” Sasha said as she stabbed at her salad. “Cancel that shit.”

  “I’ve got to say, Sasha’s right,” Meghan said. Then she sighed in a way that she only did when she was exceptionally annoyed.

  “What’s so bad about coffee?” I asked.

  “I don’t know, Phoenix. What is bad about having a one-on-one coffee with your threesome friend? When, you know, the person who isn’t invited is the one paying your rent?” Sasha punctuated this with an eye roll.

  “Did you tell Kristen?” Meghan asked.

  “No. I also didn’t tell her I was having lunch with you. I am allowed to hang out with people. I don’t have to report back to her on every little thing. We’re not even really a couple.” I sounded like a brat even to my own ears.

  “It’s rude, Phoenix,” Meghan said. “It’s a complicated situation, and you could do some real damage.”

  “It’s coffee!”

  “With someone who fucked you,” Sasha said.

  “We’re not even monogamous,” I said.

  “Okay, but don’t you think you should at least give Kristen a heads up when it’s this particular person? Just out of courtesy?” Meghan asked.

  “Kris and I barely talk, so why start with this?” They both stared at me, and I found myself rambling an explanation. “I feel deceitful in this bizarre situation. Look, it’s amazing and I’m really lucky, but whenever I talk to anyone who doesn’t already know, it’s this uncomfortable web of lies. I ran into an old coworker a few weeks ago, and I told this whole story about how I’d saved so much and that’s why I can do this. But the whole time I was thinking, ‘Actually, I’m basically a sex worker, but not officially, because money isn’t changing hands. Just rent, utilities, and access to a car.’ It felt gross. I wanted to have coffee with Ray because I don’t have to pretend my life is different than it is.”

  “Uh, hello? We’re right here!” Sasha said. “You don’t have to pretend with us.”

  “And you did save. You worked hard for this. The fact that it’s less stressful financially because of the work you’re doing with Kristen doesn’t need to make you feel bad.”

  “It’s the lying that makes me feel bad.”

  “So don’t lie,” Meghan said.

  I raised my eyebrows. “Kris asked me for some discretion.”

  Meghan shook her head. “You don’t have to say it’s her if you want to talk about it to some random person. And that’s not a reason to have coffee with Ray or to keep it a secret from Kristen.”

  “Luckily, I don’t need a reason or anyone’s permission to get coffee.”

  “You better hope we get on this tour,” Sasha said with her mouth full. “Because when your lady finds out, she’ll be kicking you to the curb. Nobody wants to play sugar mama to a cheater.”

  “I’m not cheating!”

  “Tour?” Meghan asked.

  “She didn’t tell you? We auditioned for this incredible tour. It went really well.” She turned to me. “You didn’t tell Meghan?”

  “Clearly, I did not,” I growled.

  “Why not?” Sasha asked.

  I turned to Meghan. Her face was raw with hurt and anger. Why hadn’t I told her? She was one of my best friends.

  “I’m sorry,” I said.

  Meghan’s face didn’t change.
If anything, she looked more wounded.

  “I just didn’t…I’m sure if I’m going to get it, and I didn’t want to talk about it, and, I don’t know. I should have told you.”

  “You say the lying bothers you, but it’s not just your relationship with Kristen that you’re omitting. Why are you acting like this?”

  My jaw clenched and my cheeks felt hot.

  “Uh, look, it’s awkward o’clock, so I better be going,” Sasha said uneasily. She left a twenty on the table for her unfinished meal and hustled off. For all her brash style, Sasha hated when emotionally charged conflict got real.

  Meghan and I stared each other down until Sasha was out of earshot.

  “I need someone to connect to,” I said. “This is all so new to me, the power dynamics, the sex work, the full-time aerials, everything. I just need someone who understands.”

  “And I don’t? You can’t connect with me?”

  “It’s just different. You aren’t a sub.”

  “Is that what this is about? Jesus, Phoenix, you can talk to Bill. Or I can introduce you to a sub you and Kristen haven’t slept with. And that doesn’t explain why you didn’t tell me about the possibility of you leaving and going on tour for God knows how long. Or why you got so upset out of nowhere when I was at dinner at your place. Or why Sasha tagged along for the first one-on-one time we’ve had since then.”

  “Things are weird. Things are weird between you and me.”

  “If they’re weird, it’s because you aren’t talking to me. What is going on?”

  “I don’t know. I don’t know how I ended up in this situation. I don’t know what to do.”

  She looked worried. “If you’re unhappy with this, why are you doing it? What is happening in that house?”

  “I’m not unhappy. I’m just…lost.”

  “Are you okay?”

  “Yes, I’m all right.”

  “Then what’s wrong?”

  “Everything changed,” I said.

  “That’s life! Things change. We all deal with it. It doesn’t mean you get to treat people like this.”

  Tears stung my eyes. I knew she was right.

  “What aren’t you telling me?” she asked.

  I didn’t know what to say or how to say it. I shook my head.

  “This isn’t you, Phe. You wouldn’t do something that could really hurt people.”

  “Coffee isn’t hurting anyone,” I said.

  Meghan glared. “You are playing with power dynamics and keeping secrets, and it can hurt people. But I wasn’t talking about that. I was talking about how you’re acting with me. It’s hurting me, and you don’t even see it.”

  My cheeks burned and a tear leaked out of my left eye. I opened my mouth to speak, but couldn’t find words.

  Meghan threw her napkin on the table and stood up. “Call me when you go back to being someone who actually thinks about other people’s feelings, Phoenix.” She stomped away, leaving me with three half-finished meals and the bill.

  Even as I furiously poked at my salad and waited on my change, part of me knew she was right. But I didn’t call her. I didn’t call Sasha and talk about what had happened. I didn’t tell John when I talked to him, which was becoming a bad habit. Though as roommates I’d told him everything, since he’d moved I’d become more and more selective in what I mentioned to him. I hadn’t told him about my growing feelings for Kris, my complicated feelings the morning after the threesome, or even about my audition. He was busy with his new home, his new job, and making friends in a new city. John and Ollie were talking about getting married (though based on history, they’d probably talk about it for another year before deciding anything). It was becoming easy to focus our conversations on that instead of about what was happening with me. I wondered briefly if not having a person to debrief with every day was part of the reason I was doing such a shitty job of processing my feelings.

  I wondered if I should try to talk to Kris when she got home and hoped she would see how upset I was so I wouldn’t have to broach the subject. Instead she pulled me into her like it was any other night. She didn’t seem to notice the stiffness with which I held myself. She kissed me, pulled my hair, and smiled at me while nodding toward the downstairs bedroom.

  I followed her. I let her fuck me while my mind stayed on my fight with Meghan. My body felt good, but I was checked out in a way I’d never been with Kris before.

  I knew Meghan was right, even if I was too mad to admit it. I didn’t even really want Ray, but I did want a distraction. So I texted them, a little bit flirty, and then turned off the light, turned off my phone, and missed my old life fiercely.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Ray got called into work right before our coffee date, and we couldn’t get our schedules to match up again for weeks and gave up. It seemed like the kind of almost-friendship that never got off the ground. I hoped we’d figure it out, and I didn’t feel guilty at all, even though I didn’t tell Kris. That is, I didn’t feel guilty until the Friday night that followed, after Kris and I had played.

  “Hey, are you okay?” she asked me as we lay in bed.

  “Yeah. Why do you ask?” I said coolly.

  “You’ve seemed upset lately, and preoccupied. Ever since we had Meghan over. Or kind of since the threesome, really.”

  I shrugged. “I guess.”

  “Do you, um, want to talk about it?”

  “I’m okay.”

  “I think you need some cheering up. Let’s go somewhere tomorrow.”

  I squirmed. “I thought we said we’d spend Saturdays apart. It’s my day off.”

  “Not like that! I meant, we could go to the beach, just as friends. We could do something platonically.” It was her turn to squirm. “But I understand if you don’t want to, or you’re busy.”

  She was so cute in her vulnerability. It was sweet. I felt bad for how passive-aggressive I’d been being. “Sounds great.” I forced myself to smile.

  Kris kissed me slowly. “Glad to hear it. When do you want to go?”

  “Two o’clock?”

  “Perfect. I’ll take care of everything.”

  The next afternoon, she picked me up after my classes and drove us south of the city to a beach in Pacifica. We were silent on the ride over, and things still felt uneasy between us. The beach was mostly empty on the winter day. The sun shone, but it was cold and windy, and I was underdressed.

  “Here.” Kris tossed me a thick sweater from the bag she’d brought. I smiled.

  “What else do you have that bag of yours?” I asked.

  “Snacks, drinks, beach towel, and terrible magazines, just in case.”

  “How terrible?”

  She showed me an array of glossy tabloids with contradictory celebrity gossip. “Whoa,” I said. “That is a lot of trash.”

  “I don’t usually read them, but twice a year? I read every one on sale at CVS.”

  “Look at you and your hidden shallowness.”

  She blushed. “I try to keep it under wraps.”

  “You succeed. I would have never guessed. But I like this.” I picked up a tabloid. “Oooh, secret love babies.”

  Kris set up our beach towel and supplies while I flipped through the pages. She laughed at me. “Are you going to help at all?”

  “No, I’m going to be a princess and have you do everything.”

  “Well, all right then.” A moment later, she presented our wonderful spread, complete with drinks and snacks.

  I settled in and we spent a long, lazy afternoon reading silly magazines, eating, building a sandcastle, splashing in the cold water, reapplying sunscreen, and playing rummy. And snuggling on the beach towel. I started by leaning my head on Kris’s shoulder, and before I knew it, we were resting in easy cuddles and holding hands. It was an odd, unspoken intimacy. We didn’t kiss, and that somehow made it stranger. We weren’t being sexual or flirtatious; we were being close. Kris didn’t try to talk about how difficult things had been between us, or what a
jerk I’d been. I relaxed. I knew I needed to make things right, though I still didn’t know how.

  As the sun started to set, the evening air started getting too chilly. Kris stood up. “Princess Phoenix?” Kris offered me a hand getting up.

  “Thank you.” I let her draw me up. She packed everything and I skipped barefoot toward the car.

  “That was so fun, Kris. Thanks for thinking of it.”

  “Thanks for being spontaneous. That was the most fun I’ve had in a long time.”

  “Really?” I couldn’t contain my surprise.

  “Yeah. When was the last time you had so much fun?”

  I was half-tempted to reference our three-way, or even the sex we had all the time, but I knew what she meant. That was pleasure. It was hot and amazing. This thing on the beach? That was a totally different kind of fun.

  “Actually, I feel that way, at least a little bit, whenever I’m in the air and upside down.”

  She whistled in admiration. “That’s wonderful, to feel so happy with what you do.”

  “It’s taken a long time. I’ve worked hard to be able to do something I have so much fun with.”

  She frowned a little. “I miss that feeling with work.”

  “Maybe you should take a trapeze class.”

  “Maybe,” she said absentmindedly.

  “Well, that’s why you’re thinking of selling, right? So you can have fun and balance in your life?”

  “Right. Maybe.” She paused. “I’ve been looking into it, but then I start to panic. What would I do if I didn’t go to work? What would happen to my company if I left? I can’t even bring myself to take a vacation, so how am I going to quit?”

  “Why don’t you take a vacation and see what happens? Trust your employees to do their jobs while you’re gone. Then you’ll get back and see everything’s fine and be able to move on if you want.”

  She frowned harder. “Where would I even go?”

  “Nowhere. Just the beach. You’d relax.”

  “I can’t picture it,” she said in a joking tone, but there was truth under what she said.