She glanced over her shoulder and chuckled, “I don’t get to pick.”
“Sure you do,” I responded.
She shook her head, “I don’t. But to answer your little fantasy, no I wouldn’t. I’d be married to some guy who rode a Harley, and cooked that bad-ass corn shit, what was it called? Elote?”
She hesitated and grinned. I sat in somewhat of a trance, wondering just what it was she meant by the statement, but afraid to ask for fear of getting an answer I didn’t want to hear.
She shifted her weight on the bed and began to pick at her fingernails as she spoke, “That’s a joke by the way. Well, kind of. If I got to pick, I’d want a guy who is big enough, tough enough, and mean enough to protect me from the monsters in this world; and believe me, there’s a lot of monsters. But the thought of having a man who is sensitive, kind, and has enough patience to touch me, caress me, and love me…now that’s what I’d want. Yeah, I want that.”
She hesitated and tilted her head toward me, “But if he was a pussy, it’d never work. The thought of being with a pussy just seems weird. So, I’d want a tough fucker with a soft side. Oh, and he’d have to be willing to at least act like he loved me. I need to know what it really feels like to be loved. Now it’s my turn. Are you single, and if so, why?”
As I thought of the simplicity of making Cade’s elote, I considered my response carefully. Her off-hand remark of being married actually aroused me. Not in a sexual sense, but in a sense of this lasting longer than one night. After struggling with my response for what seemed like an unusually long period of time, I began to babble.
“Yes, I am. I was married. I recently got divorced, and just haven’t felt a desire or need to try and move on.”
“Define recent,” she said.
“Oh, the divorce? Uhhm, two years in July,” I nodded.
“That’s recent?” she coughed.
I shrugged my shoulders, “As far as I’m concerned, yeah.”
“Age?” she asked.
“Me or her?”
“Seriously? I’m sorry, but I don’t give a fuck about your ex. I want to know about you,” she said as she shook her head.
“32,” I sighed.
“Fucking youngster,” she said flatly.
I nodded my head and smiled, “I like to think so.”
She turned and gazed out the window again. After a short pause, she spoke. “Can I ask?”
I shrugged my shoulders. “Sure, ask me anything. What are you thinking?”
“Why? Why the divorce?”
I exhaled audibly and rolled my eyes.
“Money. She left me for more money,” I hesitated, narrowed my eyes, and gazed into my open closet.
After a moment of staring at my shirts, I continued, “I work on motorcycles at a shop down on south Broadway. It’s seasonal. I make a lot of money doing it, but she spent a lot, and well, it’s seasonal. So in the off-season, I just dick around with odd jobs and work on a few bikes here in the heated basement. Basically, in the winter, I don’t leave. I don’t know, I guess she just wanted more money than I could give her. She was pretty high maintenance.”
She turned to face me and shrugged her shoulders, “Fuck her, you deserve better.”
“You don’t even know her,” I responded, “How can you say that?”
“I don’t need to know her. Were you working on bikes when you met?” she asked.
I nodded my head and crossed my arms, “Yeah, kind of. I was going to college and working on bikes on the side. It was how I paid my tuition. I got a little of a late start in college, didn’t graduate until I was 26. But yeah, we met at college. I see where you’re headed, so yeah, she knew.”
Her eyes widened and she smiled, “You went to college?”
I lifted my chin slightly, “Sure did. I’ve got a piece of paper that says I’m a mechanical engineer. It’s where I met Cade. Go figure, huh? I always wanted to design my own bikes. Like I said, I’m determined. I received my degree and went to work at an independent bike shop. One day I’ll have my own shop, but not here. Somewhere warm.”
She raised her hands to chest level and turned her palms upward, “What I was going to say was if she knew you were working on bikes, and she knew your dream was to work on bikes, and you kept working on bikes afterward, she had no right to bitch about it. You deserve better. It’s like a girl deciding to date a porn star, and later complaining that he fucks other girls. Duh, you married a porn star, you dumb bitch.”
“You’ve got a good point,” I agreed.
She gazed down at the comforter and sighed. As she turned to face me, she tilted her head slightly and brushed her hair behind her ears.
“You’re a great looking guy, you’re obviously smart, and you’re determined. You can have anyone you want. Forget her.”
“Thanks. I just, I don’t know. I think I had some false understanding that marriage lasted forever. I’m a hopeless romantic. Some people place little or no value in marriage. I took the shit far too serious, I guess. Till death do us part is a fucking joke. Till you piss me off or till I want more than you can give me is more like it,” I paused and ran my hands through my hair.
I scratched my scalp with my fingertips as I shook my head. I knew I was a much better person than what my feelings depicted, but the feelings of worthlessness remained regardless. Chloe’s leaving me made me feel more than rejected, it caused me to feel inadequate and incapable.
I leaned onto my pillow and gazed out the window into the street, “She made me feel inadequate and ugly. In fact, when she left, she told me to cut my hair and maybe I’d have better luck with the next one. You know, it made me wonder if there were a few more reasons for her leaving than she had actually explained.”
“Don’t cut your hair,” she snapped.
I rolled my eyes and laughed, “I already did. This is the short version.”
She shook her head slowly as she arched her back. It was apparent she wasn’t wearing a bra. The tee shirt hung from her perky breasts which were outlined by the glow from the streetlights. As she twisted her upper body to face me, the small shadows cast across the front of her chest caught my attention. I turned my head slightly, glanced toward her obviously erect nipples one more time, and nervously shifted my gaze to the window.
“Fucking bitch. Sorry, but she’s an idiot. Like I said, you deserve better, and you can have anyone you want. Get over her and move on. It’s been two years, right?”
I nodded my head, “Yeah. Two.”
I glanced in her direction. Looking at her now, thinking of her being the homeless girl from the bench downstairs was almost impossible. She was beautiful, seemed somewhat intelligent, and was entertaining to talk to. Not at all what I would have expected a homeless person to be, but my preconceived notions were based on opinion, not fact.
“Okay. Moving on, let’s see…” I paused and turned my body to face her.
As her eyes met mine, I continued, “I want to get to know you. Spend some time with you. You said I can have anyone I want? I want to get to know you. Think about that, okay.”
Her mouth curled into a smile. She blinked her eyes a few times. Although it was difficult to tell for certain, it appeared her eyes began to fill with tears. Quietly, she sat and stared. Eventually, she turned away from me and gazed out the window.
“My friend Christina’s mom said something once, and it stuck with me. Everything happens for a reason. I kind of believe that. Do you really want to know me?” she asked.
“Yes, I do,” I responded.
She turned her head slightly. Her hair hung over her face, revealing her chin, cheek, and nose. She cleared her throat, swallowed, and continued, “Because I’m some complicated homeless girl and you feel sorry for me, or you’re intrigued by my homelessness?”
I shook my head and reached for her shoulder, “No. because you’re a person who interests me.”
She shifted her eyes toward the window, “Why?”
I gripped her sho
ulder lightly, “Initially, I’d say it was your beauty. Now? Hell, now you could be ugly as fuck and I’d still want to get to know you.”
“You think I’m beautiful?” she breathed.
I nodded my head and slid my hand down to her bicep, “Yes, I do.”
“Okay, I’m done thinking,” she sighed.
“About?” I breathed.
“You said you wanted to get to know me, and for me to think about it. I’m done thinking,” she said as she titled her head to the side.
I slid my hand up her arm and across her shoulder, “And…?”
“I want that too,” she responded as she pressed her cheek into the back of my hand.
Our getting to know each other began immediately, and continued for what appeared to be roughly an hour. After discussing music, relationships, the importance of dental hygiene, our hatred for awkward silences, and the benefits of living in a warm climate, I felt as if Chloe had finally left me, and someone else was slowly beginning to take her place.
Fully realizing Rain and I were not in a relationship, nor anywhere near beginning one, I still found comfort in the feeling of having her open up to me was providing. Even though we weren’t together, there was something about her presence that provided me with a strange comfort I hadn’t felt since I was a kid.
“Where would you choose if it could be anywhere?” she asked.
I shrugged my shoulders as if I had not thought about it much. Truthfully, I had. My dream was Monterrey, California.
“Monterrey. Out in California. It’s along the coast, but far enough north that it’s away from all of the idiots. It’s beautiful,” I responded.
“Have you been there?” she asked.
“Never been out of this shit-hole state,” I responded.
“Me neither,” she grinned.
“Grow up here?” she asked.
“Yep,” I said, “Well, basically. Pretty close to here, but in this state, yes.”
“Brothers? Sisters?” she asked.
“Nope,” I responded.
“Me neither,” she said.
As I stared at the ceiling for a moment and thought of having my own shop in the warmth of California’s sun, the room began to brighten considerably. Feeling confused, I sat up and turned toward the window. An orange glow along the dark horizon confirmed my suspicion. I chuckled, relaxed onto my pillow, and clasped my hands behind my head.
“What?” she asked as she studied me.
“The sun’s coming up,” I said with a laugh.
Still sitting up on the bed, she pursed her lips, crossed her arms over her chest, and sighed.
I tilted my head to the side, “What’s wrong?”
She gazed down into my eyes, “That means this is over. I was really enjoying it.”
“Over? As far as I’m concerned, we’re just getting started. I probably should take a shower before Cade gets up. Shit, his alarm will be going off in a half hour or so,” I said as I sat up.
“Too bad the water’s free here,” she chuckled.
“Why’s that?” I asked as I stood and stretched my arms over my head.
“Makes trying to convince you to conserve water and let me shower with you kind of difficult,” she responded.
Strangely, my mind didn’t immediately begin thinking about sex. I imagined what she might look like naked, and began to imagine washing her back and shoulders. Without a doubt, the thought of having sex with her excited me greatly, but to have sex with her would make me all too predictable. Her current situation, her background, and her complicated loveless past told me to avoid sex at all costs, at least for now. As I realized I hadn’t responded to her half-assed offer, I felt like somewhat of a fool.
“Sounds fun,” I responded.
I raised my hand in the air, extended my index finger, and coughed a laugh, “And although I hope one day we reach a point we’re both comfortable doing it, right now I’m thinking it’s not a good idea.”
“You’re probably going to think I’m full of shit, but I like that response,” she said under her breath.
As I studied the outline of her face against the glow of the slowly rising sun, I realized although meeting Rain was in no way what I had planned, it was exactly what I needed when I desperately needed it most.
Her friend Christina’s mother may have been right.
Maybe everything does happen for a reason.
RAIN
It had been a little more than a week since I first met Ethan. Every night since meeting him, after work, he stopped at my bench and I rode with him up the elevator. As much as I had come to enjoy our nights of eating dinner together, I knew at some point in time it would end. Eventually, everything in life does. For now, however, I decided to enjoy each and every minute of my time with Ethan and Cade fully, and cherish my memories of mingling with the two kindest men I had ever met.
This evening had begun differently than the others, and Cade had stopped at my bench on his way home, asking if I would help him with dinner. I eagerly agreed, and after washing my hands and listening to his specific instructions, was preparing to whip some Thai Peanut Sauce into edible condition.
“Okay, I have everything in here, now what?” I asked as I pushed the lid onto the top of the food processor.
“Here, let me show you,” he responded.
He reached over my shoulder, checked to make sure the lid was secure, and pressed the button on the front of the contraption. The mixer began to buzz, and the ingredients started to swirl. Immediately, he pressed the stop button.
“That’s it. Just press that button and let them mix until it’s smooth and creamy. Check it periodically with the spatula,” he said as he slid the spatula across the counter.
“Okay,” I said as I pressed the button, starting the processor spinning once again.
As I watched the ingredients mix together into one, I turned to him and grinned, “What if a person doesn’t keep agave nectar in their house?”
“Then they can’t make a good peanut sauce,” he shrugged.
I turned toward him and chuckled, “So, if you don’t have it, you’re screwed?”
“I suppose you could use honey or light syrup, but it wouldn’t be the same as far as I’m concerned,” he responded over his shoulder.
“What’s in that sauce?” I asked as I tossed my head toward the bowl he was mixing sauce in.
He glanced in the bowl, and shifted his eyes to meet mine, “Sweet soy sauce, chili oil, garlic, and onions. It’s for the wontons.”
“What wontons?” I asked as I stopped the food processor.
I removed the lid and stirred the mixture with the spatula. Everything appeared to be mixed very well.
“You’re going to make them in a minute,” he nodded.
Standing behind me, he placed each of his hands on my upper arms, and rested his chin on my shoulder as he peered over me and into the top of the processor. Although my first impression of Cade may have been influenced by my immediate attraction to Ethan, I saw him as cute, but cute in a puppy kind of way. After spending time with him cooking, I saw him with an entirely different set of eyes. I found it funny how my thoughts had changed, but now I was seeing him as a very attractive man who was simply neat and very well put together.
“Okay, your sauce looks good. Now, come here and let me show you what’s next,” he said as he moved his hands away from my arms.
I turned to face him. What we were doing was what I had always hoped as a girl my mother would do with me. Cade was sharing one of his obvious pleasures in life with me; cooking. In doing so, he was teaching me his techniques and processes. Although it wasn’t something I expected from meeting these two men, I was enjoying it immensely.
“Hold your hand out,” he said as he lifted a small piece of thin dough from the counter.
He laid the dough flat onto my palm. As I stared down at it, he gave his instructions.
“Okay, take the spoon, and get a spoonful of the meat mixture I made, a
nd spoon it onto the dough, but make it slightly off center,” he said as he motioned to the bowl of meat he had mixed while I was making the sauce.
I spread a spoonful of meat onto the little square dough. As I looked up, Cade began to laugh as if I had made a grave mistake.
“No, don’t spread it on the dough, just drop it onto it. Watch,” he chuckled as he lifted a little square of dough from the counter.
“Like this,” he said as he used his thumb to drop the meat from the spoon onto the dough.
“Take your free hand and dip your finger in the water, and wipe your finger around the edges. Then, fold it like this,” he said as he folded the dough in half.
“Pinch the edges, and set it down on the cutting board,” he said as he pinched the edges and held it for me to see.
I smiled and nodded my head as I attempted to scoop the meat into a pile in the center of my wonton. After dipping my finger in the water, I folded it, pressed the edges, and laid it onto the flour covered board beside Cade’s. I stared at the two wontons. Mine was flat and Cade’s was poofy. Obviously I needed more practice.
“Okay, make all of those,” he said as he tilted his head toward the pieces of dough, “I’m going to start the chicken. He just texted me, he’s on his way.”
“When you’re done, spoon the peanut sauce into that bowl, and I’ll explain cooking the wontons. You’re going to cook them, okay?” he said as he began poking wooden skewers through the pieces of chicken.
“Okay,” I shrugged.
Helping Cade cook had become much more than a pleasant surprise. As we proceeded, I began to feel useful, normal, and as if he really cared about having me help him. He certainly didn’t need my help, but the fact he wanted it was well received. As I continued to make the wontons and carefully lay them side by side on the board, I wondered just what I had done to deserve meeting two very unique and caring men. After washing his hands and drying them on a towel, Cade rested his chin on my shoulder again.
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