Love's Illusions: A Novel

by Cazzola, Jolene

  Looking up, I asked Kent, “Can you tell me anymore?”

  “Sure. What those papers say is that a fissure or fistula is a tear or thinning of the skin. They can happen almost anywhere on your body, but when they are in the anal canal they can be painful, and cause a bunch of different problems. It’s a significant medical issue because it allows feces to pass outside the bowel, poisoning the rest of your system. It’s a serious condition.”

  “And it doesn’t happen from falling off a ladder, right?” I asked.

  “Well I guess it may be possible, but odds are against it.”

  I hesitated for a second then pushed on asking in a steady, but rather hushed voice, “What does cause it then?”

  Kent raised his eyebrows, looked at Mary Beth as if to ask if he should say anymore. Getting a nodding blink from her in return, he went on, “I’m just going to say this straight out… your asshole’s meant for stuff to come out – not go in. Most of the time gay guys get this because of rough anal sex, and putting things that are just too Goddamn big up their butts!” He wiggled around in his chair as he was speaking, his voice as animated as his eyes.

  Mary Beth and Michael, neither of whom were expecting him to put it in quite those terms, almost burst trying to stifle their laughter, as I said, “You’re going to have to work on your bedside manner, Kent.” At that, there was no choking it back… the table erupted.

  Before leaving Vito’s, Mary Beth also updated me on what she’d heard from Ronnie. He indeed had run into Stephen in Harvard Square, and had let him crash at his place. In fact, Stephen had wanted to move in so he wouldn’t have to go back to his mother’s house at all, but Ronnie said no. According to Ronnie, Stephen spent his time cruising the gay bars in Boston, even bringing some guy back to Ronnie’s place one night. This guy had something to do with American Airlines and Ronnie thought he was the one that arranged a flight for Stephen back to Chicago.

  “Jackie, you know Ronnie came out of the closet after we graduated high school. He said to tell you that Stephen is definitely gay and always has been – you just never knew before.”

  My mind could barely hear the words, ‘you just never knew before’, let alone comprehend their meaning. I poured another glass of Riesling, emptying the bottle, gulping it down, not objecting at all when Michael suggested that we all head off someplace where we could smoke instead. I had the information I asked for – now I needed to confront Stephen and get him to admit the truth.

  ~~~~~~~~

  “I’m not going back to the hospital,” I told Michael the next morning. “I’m going to wait until he’s out, and talk to him at Joe’s place.”

  “Are you sure? It might be better to do it at the hospital where there’s a lot of people around,” he suggested.

  “True, but I doubt if I’m gonna be able to stay calm… The nurses would throw me out if I yelled at him, and besides, I’m not sure I can face them. Tuesday was friggin’ humiliating.”

  “You have nothin’ to be humiliated about. He’s the one who should be humiliated,” he replied giving me a hug. “Will you promise me something?”

  “What?”

  “That you’ll let me know when you go.”

  “I’m going alone…”

  “I understand that,” he interrupted. “I’m not asking to go with you – I don’t want to, I just want to know when you’re going, and not find out that you’ve done it after it’s over.”

  “Why?”

  “Because I don’t think you should be alone right after you see him again. If you don’t want to tell me, then at least promise you’ll tell Mary Beth, okay? Is that reasonable?” he asked. I nodded in agreement. “Good, I’ve got to go – a client is coming into the garage.” He leaned over to give me a kiss and a quick wink. “See ya later, beautiful.”

  When the door closed, I wandered around my own apartment as if I was lost. I was exhausted, not physically, but mentally, my brain hurt. I had classes this afternoon and knew I should get ready to go to school – I had blown off two days already – but all I wanted to do was sleep. I had read the information Kent gave me last night and decided to read it again. Bits and pieces of articles or textbooks or wherever he’d taken it from kept floating through my mind. And what the fuck did Ronnie mean by I never knew! I popped a couple Valium and went to bed – another day of classes blown off.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Sleep It All Away

  I slept for the better part of the next week. Each day I got up intending to do something, anything, but all I did was walk around my apartment in my pajamas and watch TV. I called Charlie and told him I wasn’t feeling well; I had picked up some kind of stomach virus, so I wouldn’t be in for a few days. I think he knew I was lying, but I didn’t care.

  I talked to Mary Beth on the phone a couple times, and Ashley and Lisa from SAIC called to find out if I was alright – I hadn’t been in class so they were checking to see if I needed anything. I lied to them too, telling them the same story I gave Charlie.

  My parents called wanting to know when to expect me for Christmas. I told them that Mary Beth and I were planning on driving back together, and I’d call them with the exact dates soon.

  I even managed to keep Michael away for two days by professing that I was okay, nothing was wrong, I just wanted a little time to myself, and promising I would call him soon. I knew he knew I was full of shit, but he seemed willing to give me some space. All I wanted was to cut off the world, wrap myself up in a cocoon, roll over and die.

  ~~~~~~~~

  On the third day, Michael showed up at my door. I hadn’t bothered to get dress, change my pajamas, shower, brush my hair or teeth, or put on any makeup since he last left. My eyes were red and puffy from tears, and I felt horrible. Instead of saying hello when I opened the door, all I said was, “Go away, I have a stomach virus, and I don’t want you to catch it… I look like a pile of shit!”

  Ignoring my protests as he pushed past me, his only response was, “Well you’re right about one thing: you do look like shit.”

  He turned off the television, eyed the heap of blankets and pillows on the couch, and then headed for the kitchen. Following him I snapped, “What do you think you’re doing? I told you, my stomach is upset – you need to go!”

  He ignored my tone and the glare in my eyes. “When’s the last time you ate anything?”

  Straightening up to defend myself I replied, “This afternoon – I had some cheese and toast. I’m not hungry! Seriously Michael, you need to go – I’ll call you when I’m feeling better, I promise.”

  “No problem,” he said grabbing my keys from the hook by the door, “I’m going alright… I’m going to the cafeteria over on Clark. I’ll be back soon with some decent food.”

  “Why are you taking my keys?” I demanded.

  Cocking his head to one side he gave me a half smile as he headed out the door. “So you can’t lock me out – go take a shower.”

  “No!” I yelled, but he was already gone.

  I sat back down on the couch mumbling to myself. How dare he? Who the fuck does he think he is? I wasn’t married to him, he wasn’t my father, and I sure didn’t have to do anything he said! He was just some guy I picked up in the bar, Goddamn it. He just wanted to get laid – well he was going to have to find someone else’s body to abuse this time. I sure wasn’t having sex with him. I’ll be damned if I’m going to take a shower just because he wants me to, I thought as I marched about the room. I was pissed off, but it also occurred to me that… maybe I am hungry – maybe I’d eat instead of throwing the food in his face.

  Letting himself in with my keys, which he returned to the hook, making sure I saw him, Michael started opening containers and laying them out on the dining area table. I sat there stewing in my own thoughts, none of which were complimentary to him, watching as he got plates down from the cabinet, and silverware out of the drawer. Neither of us had spoken since he came back; his face had been blank, but as he glanced around the table
pulling my favorite kind of hard rolls and pads of real butter out of the bag, I saw a sense of self-satisfaction come over him. He turned, put a small smile on his face and said, “C’mon, let’s eat.”

  Like a spoiled child being told to eat her peas, I made my way over to the table to sit down, still not talking to him. He just watched me, not sure what to expect from me next. I surveyed the contents of the table, my stomach speaking up with delight as the smell of fried chicken filled my senses. “Smells good, huh? I’m starving – do you want some broccoli?” he asked. Besides about a dozen pieces of chicken, and broccoli, there were mashed potatoes with sour cream, butter and chives, carrots, some kind of pink Jell-O with fruit in it, those delicious hard rolls I loved so much, and a box still unopened in the corner. He saw my eyes fall on the box and said, “Cheesecake for dessert.”

  “There’s enough food here to feed the Russian Army,” I said as I lowered myself into a chair.

  “I know, I wanted to make sure there were plenty of leftovers,” he replied pushing the container of chicken in my direction. As I ate, I started to feel a little better. It must have showed on my face since Michael’s next words were, “Real food always helps, doesn’t it?” All I could manage was a nod in agreement. What I was thinking was, Yes, but just because you were right about food, doesn’t mean I want you here… you’ve got to go as soon as we’re done eating – I don’t want anyone here. And I’m NOT having sex with you!

  When he was satisfied I’d eaten enough, he asked if I wanted the cheesecake now or later. “Later”, I said, “Thanks for getting the food… I guess I haven’t eaten much the last couple days. It was good.” I stood up and headed back to the couch leaving the table a mess; Michael packed up the leftovers for later, putting everything in the refrigerator. As I sat, the anger started to grow in me again.

  He approached me quietly, his eyes soft but unwavering, and tried to give me a hug. I squirmed away, telling him I thought he needed to leave now – I was tired.

  “Leave? I’m not leaving,” he retorted, “I’m staying the night.”

  “Like hell you are! I need time alone!” I was stoked!

  “Bullshit – that’s the last thing you need! You’ve been alone for two days and look at you… you’re a mess!” His voice also raised an octave or two.

  “I don’t want you here – I’m fine!”

  “Right, you’re fine! Look at yourself – look at this place! In all the time I’ve known you, I haven’t seen you or your apartment in such a shitty state!”

  My eyes darted around. If I was being reasonable, I’d have to admit the apartment was a disaster. Everything was out of place, used Kleenex strewn about – but I was in no mood to be reasonable, so instead I furrowed my brow, stared at him and burst out, “So I haven’t picked things up for a couple days, so what! What are you complaining about, your place is always a mess!”

  He snorted and laughed. “That’s true, but that’s not what I mean and you know it.”

  I was up off the couch pacing around as usual. My insides felt like a pressure cooker about to explode. I whirled on him and screamed, “Leave me alone, just get the fuck out of here – now!” He didn’t move. I stood there shaking, pointing to the door. “Motherfucker – leave! I’m not having sex with you, so just leave!”

  “What… What did you say? Do you honestly think I’m only here to have sex with you? Is that what you think?” he yelled back grabbing me by the shoulders and shaking me. “If sex was all I wanted, I could damn well get it without all this bullshit. Look at me, Jackie!” I lifted my head; his face was no more than a few inches away, so close I could feel his breath on my cheeks. I struggled trying to break away, but his grip just tightened. He was repeating over and over, “Is that what you think?”

  “Let go, you’re hurting me,” I hissed.

  His grasp loosened. I pulled away and backed up two or three steps, breathing through my nose. Gaining control of his voice, he asked again, “Is that what you think? If it is – if you think that’s all I want from you, I’ll leave.”

  I just stood there, frozen in place, but on absolute fire with anger. “No!” I retorted, still shaking and breathing in short shallow breaths that seemed to make the room spin. “No.”

  “Good. I need you to know I’m here because I was worried about you. I could head over to The Canteen and leave with any girl there…”

  I started to interrupt him, but his voice rose again and stopped me. “I know, you could leave with any guy there too – that’s not the point. It’s that I want to be here – with you. Do you understand me?” I nodded. He took a step towards me, held his hand out and said “Let’s sit down.”

  I sat, but refused to take his hand. I was still angry, but starting to calm although I was in no shape yet for rational thought. Michael sat watching me as if I was some kind of precious china figurine that would crack into pieces at the slightest false touch. Neither of us spoke. Finally my breathing normalized, and the room became a solid entity again. I chanced a quick glance up at him; his eyes were still fixed on me.

  “You’re not angry with me, you know that don’t you,” he said. “You’re angry at him.” I just looked back down at my hands fidgeting in my lap. He got up and turned the TV back on, setting the volume very low. I didn’t answer.

  We sat not talking, not moving, except to go to the bathroom or getting up to change the channel, for what must have been hours – Mod Squad, Gunsmoke, reruns of Hawaii Five-O, all came and went, neither of us watching any of it. Somewhere during Hawaii Five-O I broke the silence asking if he wanted his cheesecake. Michael smiled, nodded, and I wandered off to the kitchen to get it. We ate in silence, both stealing glances at the other and exchanging small smiles.

  “Thank you for getting this,” I said indicating the cheesecake. “You were right, I needed to eat more than just toast.”

  “You’re welcome – I’m glad you liked it.”

  “I did, thank you.”

  We fell silent again. Michael broke it this time suggesting, “Why don’t you go take a shower? I think that will make you feel a little better too.”

  “I know, I just don’t have the energy though,” I sighed.

  He leaned over and pulled me close. Inhaling, and with a mischievous grin on his face said, “You stink. You need a shower – I promise it’ll make you feel better… Go. I’ll find you something clean to put on.”

  Clean for the first time in days, I sat back down on the couch with him – this time closer. He put his arm around me and we watched Marcus Welby, M.D.

  As the late news came on, Michael turned the television off and started talking again. “Jackie, you have to get a grip. If you miss many more classes, you’ll flunk this semester, and you don’t want that to happen.”

  “I know… but I just can’t right now. All I can think about is what those papers from Kent said and I… I can’t focus, my mind just won’t stop. I’m so angry. I’m so tired.”

  “When are you going to go talk to Stephen?”

  “I don’t know. Part of me is afraid to go. I’m afraid he’s going to keep lying, and I’m not sure I can deal with that.”

  “You’re stronger than you think – you can deal with it. I used to think you should just stay away from him, but now… well now I think you just need to get it over with, so you can move on with your life.”

  “It’s not that easy Michael. I’m… well ‘confused’ is the only word I can think of right now. I’m just angry and confused.”

  He let out a deep sound of exasperation. “Lots of people get cheated on ya know… it’ll be okay.”

  Swallowing hard, blinking back tears, I replied, “But most women don’t have their husbands cheat with another man. I keep seeing the pages of information Kent gave me, and what Bernie said and Ronnie… and yet Stephen said it was all a lie. I don’t know what to believe anymore. I’m just afraid… that’s all.”

  “Of course Stephen says it’s a lie and hasn’t admitted anything. How
can he? He needed the insurance information – if he hadn’t he would never’ve called you. You’ve got to understand that. He made a choice to go gay, and he just doesn’t have the balls to admit it,” Michael said.

  I just looked at him feeling rather numb, then something in me gave way, like a dam overflowing – I could not keep rein on my tears or words. “No! No, I did it to him… it’s my fault… I’m certain of it!”

  He sat up straight pulling back to see all of me, a look of absolute astonishment on his face. “What? What the fuck are you talking about? What do you think you did?”

  “I made him go gay!” I screamed, “It had to be me, and I… I’m afraid I’m going to do the same thing to you!”

  “Are you out of your mind? You didn’t do… What the hell babe… I’m not – shit that makes no sense at all!” he yelled back, jumping up and shaking his head. “That just blows my mind!”

  I looked up at him and told him that was why he had to leave me. I couldn’t take the chance of doing the same thing to him that I had done to Stephen.

  He stood there, his eyes searching my face in minute detail, his head shaking back and forth, until he finally collapsed back down on the leather couch next to me in what seemed like exhaustion. “That makes about as much sense as your theory about Janis Joplin. I’m not leaving. I want to be here. I love making love to you. There’s no way in hell you made him go gay, and I’m sure as hell not interested in having sex with another guy… I don’t know what else to say except you’re wrong.”

  I couldn’t move – couldn’t speak. I just sat there trembling inside and out. He reached out and touched my arm. “C’mon, we both need sleep.” I nodded in agreement.

  ~~~~~~~~

  My main question was why bother to get out of bed at all? It took me a week to leave the apartment. Michael continued to come back each evening, and I managed to work my way back to being comfortable with him there. He never, not once, pushed me to do any more than eat and take showers – alone. We watched TV; we talked. He didn’t push on me for sex, at all, he let me initiate any physical contact – even casual touching – other than occasional comforting hugs. My mind was so unreliable at this point that I construed this into meaning that I had already pushed him over the edge… He no longer wanted me… but then, if that was true, why hadn’t he left like Stephen did? Michael had no obligation to be here, so maybe I was wrong?