by Olivia Jake
“You said you liked it when I did. With a ringing endorsement like that, I’m not going to stop now!”
He smiled, folded his napkin and put it on the table making it clear we were finished and leaving. “So, do you think you’ll be this nervous on our second date?”
“You’re already thinking about our second date?” I felt like Sally Field, ‘he likes me, he really likes me.’ I just hope I didn’t show it. Before he could answer I stopped. “Wait, is this one over?”
He stood and held out his hand. “No, Stephanie. This one’s not over. I told you what I wanted to do after dinner.”
Even though we had already been together, just hearing him say those words made me tingle. Whatever it was, this man had an effect on me. He made me want him more than I’d ever wanted anyone. He made me want sex for the pleasure of it, not as a point to prove. I’m not sure I could even say what the point was that I thought I was proving anymore. If there ever even was one, I’m sure it was lost on the myriad guys over the years. No matter. That was in the past. And Brad was in the present. Who would have thunk it?
I took his hand as I got up and once again walked hand in hand with him, through the restaurant and hotel lobby to the elevators. This time though, once inside, he pulled me to him and kissed me passionately for the entire ride. When our floor dinged and we separated he panted, “I’ve been wanting to do that since you walked in the restaurant.”
Once inside his room he didn’t waste any time. We’d done our talking. We had only been together a few times, but I was starting to get used to certain things. Not in an apathetic way but with anticipation. His taste, his smell, the way he kissed me and bit my lips and my neck. I never realized that knowing someone could make it better. I certainly didn’t know him, know him, but there were little things I was already figuring out that he liked. And I must have had my tells too, because it seemed he had a roadmap to every sensitive spot with each nuanced touch or caress. He wanted to please me. We wanted to please each other. I was starting to realize what most normal adults already knew. It was better if there were actual feelings involved, feelings that weren’t just spite and anger, that is.
It was odd that this man who could be so cold so clearly wanted to pleasure me, but it was obvious that he did.
Yet as good as everything felt, I couldn’t let my mind go this time. All those years of conditioning couldn’t just disappear in a couple months. He kept taking me to the precipice but I couldn’t fall over. I kept building and building and it felt so good, but so frustrating. Perhaps it was because I had shared more about me during dinner, that somehow I was limited in how much I gave to him, maybe that’s why I couldn’t get there. I had already exposed so much more of myself to him. Or maybe it wasn’t anything nearly that logical. Regardless, I vowed that I wouldn’t fake it with him. I didn’t want to do that anymore. I just couldn’t help but feel like I was disappointing him.
“Steph, relax baby.” He whispered as he brushed my hair off my face and kissed me while he slowed his tempo.
“I’m sorry.”
“You don’t have to be sorry, I just want to make you feel good.”
“You do, believe me. I, I just can’t get there. I keep feeling like I’m going to but then it goes away.”
He leaned down and took a nipple into his mouth and played with it, making me moan. He nipped and bit and licked until I was writhing and then switched sides all the while sliding in and out. I could feel myself building again but I knew I wasn’t going t get there. He released my breast and looked down at me.
“Would you play with yourself for me?”
I blushed and closed my eyes. We’d done all kinds of things, but the thought of that seemed so intimate, so personal. I hesitated and he must have seen the trepidation on my face.
“Please. I want to watch you make yourself come. I want to stroke myself while I watch you.”
I smiled a little when I heard that, and that must have been his go-ahead. He pulled out of me, rolled the condom off and started stroking himself as he kneeled over me. I never knew how much of a turn on that could be, but just watching him emboldened me. I licked my middle finger, reached down and started rubbing myself as I watched him continue to slide his hand up and down his shaft. Watching him helped me get over my initial hesitation and I was soon mesmerized. Seeing him pleasure himself was so erotic but when I looked up at his face, the intensity with which he was looking down on me scared me, so I went back to watching his hand.
He looked so damn sexy doing that, that it didn’t take long for me to feel my orgasm rising and rising until I felt the tingling spread all over me as my eyes rolled in the back of my head and slowly shut before I bucked, my chest lifting off the mattress as I softly moaned and came. When I opened my eyes he was smiling devilishly down on me and then he started moaning as he jacked himself off, coming all over my stomach and chest. I’d never seen a man do that and watching him lose control, watching it splatter all over me was one of the sexiest things I’d ever seen. I dared to raise my eyes back up and look at his, and his expression matched what I was feeling. He still looked so intense, but there was also fear of just how intimate that was. He held my gaze and then looked down at the mess he’d made on me. Upon seeing that he smiled like a little boy and then collapsed next to me.
We both lay there for a bit in silence as our breathing steadied, then he turned to me and smiled lazily.
“Thank you.”
I furrowed my brows, unclear exactly what he was thanking me for and he turned more serious. “For being patient and honest.”
I still wasn’t sure what he was talking about.
He propped himself up on his elbow and looked at me, still covered in his fluid and he smiled again. “Do you have any idea how sexy you are?” I could feel myself blushing. “You’re beautiful, but with my come all over you… and watching you play with yourself, Jesus Steph, that was amazing.”
“Ditto.” I said sheepishly, still embarrassed. I felt so exposed having done what we just did.
“Why are you so embarrassed?” I couldn’t tell if I heard annoyance or simple interest.
I shrugged. It made no sense. I was lying there naked yet I was embarrassed and talking about it just made it worse. “Look, I should go.”
“Are you kidding me?” Any tenderness was gone, not that I could blame him.
“I don’t expect you to understand…”
“Try me.” He was pissed.
I sat up and turned away from him. It wasn’t his fault that I was the way I was.
“Seriously? You’re just going to turn your back on me after what we just did together?”
I didn’t turn around. I talked to the wall. “I told you, I don’t expect you to understand…”
“You’re right. I can’t possibly understand if you don’t talk to me. If you literally turn your back on me.”
I turned around and saw so much anger on his face, it made leaving easier. But it wasn’t just anger. He was hurt. And if the situation were reversed, I’d have been as well. He didn’t deserve my cold shoulder. He’d done nothing wrong, so I tried to help him understand. “Brad, you were married for how long?”
He obviously didn’t know where this was going but he shared anyway. “Almost 20 years.” He said softly.
“However it ended, you were used to being intimate with someone. You’ve had years of practice. I haven’t.” I paused. I think because I knew how much of a dick he could be, it was easier for me to be brutally honest with him. “I tried to tell you, I’ve never done this before. I’m not comfortable with it. Any of it. I’m trying. You have no idea how hard I’m trying not to be who I’ve been my entire life. But I’m not going to change overnight. Fuck, I don’t even know if I really can change.” I looked down and paused as I felt the tears start welling up. It didn’t matter. I’d already screwed it up. I’d already pushed him away. Crying wouldn’t make a bit of difference.
“For what it’s worth, I’ve shared m
ore of myself, I’ve been completely raw and open and honest with you. I get it if that’s not enough... if you can’t see it. Honestly, I do.” I felt the tears roll down my face and could taste the salt as I talked. “I know you’re trying, you were trying to make up for last night. And I know I’m fucking it up. I’m sorry. Really. I don’t know why I can’t be normal.”
I couldn’t say anymore. I couldn’t say that it somehow hurt less to walk away even when someone was trying to show me tenderness or care or interest. Somehow, it hurt less to walk away from that than to accept it for fear of them eventually rejecting me. I knew how pathetic that was. I knew if I stayed that fragile I’d never be with anyone. But that’s what I expected. I expected to be alone. I never pictured being with someone because that meant letting my guard down and I already had so much with Brad that it terrified me.
I thought I wanted to try with him, but he wanted too much, too fast. As I sat there, I thought about a line from a movie that had stuck with me. It was a movie about teen angst, and I don’t even remember finishing it but the line stayed in my mind. You get the love you think you deserve. I wasn’t sure if that was true or not. I think maybe I was getting the love, or lack thereof, that I projected.
CHAPTER 14
It wasn’t surprising that I barely slept that night. I just kept playing everything over and over again in my head. I tried to stop thinking. There had been so many times in my life where I would have done anything for an on/off switch, or really just the off part. Much as I wanted, I couldn’t stop my brain from going over every single moment, and the more I did, the more I hated myself.
Barb was asleep when I went to her house in the morning, so I took care of all the animals and set out a muffin for her for when she woke. But when I called her on the way in, she told me that she’d been sick all night and couldn’t get out of bed she was so cold, and it only made me feel even more hopeless. Most days since this began, I’d been able to focus at work, but between the night I’d had and then hearing her weak voice, I couldn’t muster the strength to even fake it at work. Most people knew about what was going on with my mom and everyone was surprisingly understanding. I popped my head into Marty’s office and explained that I needed to go take care of her. I didn’t even ask, nor did I hang around to discuss it. I don’t think I would have cared if he’d fired me on the spot.
When I got to Barb’s she was lying in bed shivering under a pile of blankets. I was used to her shaved head, but she’d continued to lose so much weight that she was starting to look skeletal. She looked so helpless I literally felt my heart ache as I looked at her. I don’t think I ever truly knew the meaning of the phrase ‘gut-wrenching’ until this. Watching someone I loved suffer the way she was must have been the definition. Literally seeing the life go out of someone bit by bit. A pound or two here, some clumps of hair there, two days of only mild nausea followed by three days of dry heaves and uncontrollable diarrhea, random chills and aches, coupled with debilitating weakness. Watching that happen to a loved one and being completely, utterly helpless made me feel physically ill.
I tried to get her to eat something but she protested, so I took off my shoes, slid under the covers, found her hand and held it, stroked it and talked softly about nothing at all. We passed much of the day like that. Eventually I got her to eat a little bit, but we stayed in bed looking out at the trees, drifting in and out of sleep, both of us. She would mumble as she drifted off and I think it must have been caused by one of the myriad medications she was on.
As awful as the reason was that I was there with her, it was a really special day.
“Thank you, honey.” Barb said weakly. We were lying side by side watching the bluebirds feed at the bird feeder I’d bought her one year. Her bedroom was in the back corner of the house, so two of her walls were windows. Her backyard was so green and lush that lying in bed felt like we were outside.
“For what, Ma?”
“For spending the day with me. I know how much time you’re taking off of work, but it’s been so nice having you here today.” Her eyes welled up.
“There’s nowhere else I’d rather be.”
“Than lying in bed with your cancer-rid mother? What am I going to do with you?”
I didn’t answer her rhetorical question. We had laughed and reminisced all day and I realized that as much as she played the innocent, a part of her must have known that her life was ending.
****
At chemo the following week, I wasn’t surprised that Brad was back to his old self. I only had to admit to myself how much I’d hoped and waited for him to call, which of course he never did. I didn’t blame him, and it was easier this way. We had our clearly defined roles and fell back into them all too easily.
“Barbara, you’ve lost another four pounds since the last time I saw you.” His tone to her was one of concern.
“I’m sorry, doctor. I just can’t seem to keep anything down. And even when I can, I just have no appetite.” When she spoke her voice was so soft and her speech so slow, but he just waited and listened patiently. Until he turned to me.
“You need to make sure she eats.” He said sternly. Gone was the concern. It was like he was lashing out at me.
“I try to, doctor.” I emphasized his title, pissed he was chastising me. “But I can’t be there every minute.”
“Then perhaps you should consider getting in-home help if you can’t care for her the way she needs to be cared for.” He glared at me and I tried not to wither under it and glare right back. He wasn’t wrong, but he was being mean. As was true with so many conversations, it wasn’t what he was saying, but how he said it.
I was surprised when Barb came to my defense. “Doctor, you have no idea how much Stephy does for me. I don’t know what I’d do without her. She’s there every morning and every evening. She’s doing everything she can.” She smiled at me and I returned it as I reached out for her hand. He might have been able to be a dick to me, but at least he wouldn’t take it out on her.
“Well, Barbara, it sounds like you’re very fortunate to have such a caring daughter. Not everyone in your shoes has a loved one to take care of them.” He was soft and conciliatory until he spoke next. “But you may need more than she’s able to give.” And when he said that, he was looking directly at me. It wasn’t hard to figure out his inference went way beyond the conversation at hand.
“Oh, doctor, you have no idea how much love my Stephy has to give.” I couldn’t believe my mom said that. Once again, he looked right at me when he answered her.
“You’re right, Barbara, I have no idea.”
Thankfully, Barb was oblivious, but I got his message loud and clear.
“And I don’t want a stranger in my house. I promise I’ll try to eat more. Don’t be mad at her. She’s doing so much for me already.”
“Ok, Barbara. I’ll try not to be mad at Stephanie.” He said to me and then finally turned to her. “But then you need to eat. You can’t keep losing weight. I know it’s hard, but you’ve got to try. You’ve got to keep up your strength.”
He nodded and then moved onto his next patient. I wished I hadn’t been so disappointed when he didn’t ask me to come back to his office, but I was. I didn’t blame him for giving up on me when I already had.
Just then, I noticed Sherri talking with the nurses. She made her way over, bundled up in a cable knit sweater, leggings and boots, dressed for winter when it was probably mid-70s outside. We smiled at each other and then she motioned to the chair next to us.
“Is this seat taken?” she asked.
“Belly up to the chemo bar!” I said and she laughed. “Now that you’re here, it’s happy hour.”
“Oh lord, if that’s true then it means that he’s the bartender!” Sherri said motioning to Brad. “I don’t think he’d have any customers if he were the one listening to everyone’s sob stories. Can you imagine?”
I chuckled. “Yeah, his bedside manner can be questionable.”
“C
ould be good for business. Could drive them to drink.”
Obviously I wasn’t the only patient who’d been on the receiving end of Brad’s cold side. Once she got settled and after the nurse had started her IV, we started talking again.
“How are you doing, today?” I asked.
“Today? Right now, actually I’m ok. I’m trying to screw up my strength to go wig shopping after this actually.”
Barb was already dozing off. I’d been bugging her about getting a wig. I thought the more “normal” she looked, the more normal she’d feel, even if it was just looking in the mirror and seeing herself with hair.
“I might be overstepping, but if I can convince my mom to go, would you like some company?” I asked.
Sherri’s expression melted and she got tears in her eyes. “Overstepping? You have no idea how much I’d love your company!” She paused and regained her composure. “My friends have wanted to take me, but it’s just not the same. It’s so hard to try to share this with someone who’s not going through it. Unless it’s someone like you, I mean. Even though you don’t have cancer, you’re so close to it, well, you get it.”
I nodded. “I think unfortunately I do.”
Sherri got a big grin. “I really hope your mom’s up for it!”
“Me too. I’ll nudge.”
Both Sherri and I opened our laptops and did our respective work or whatever for the rest of the session. When ours was finished, I floated the idea by my mom and she instantly lit up.
“Oooh! What a lovely idea! It’s a date!” Barb said and Sherri grinned.
“I’ve just got a few more minutes left. There’s a really good wig store just a few miles from here on Main street. I could meet you there.” Sherri offered.
“Don’t be silly. Parking’s always impossible there. Stephy will drive. You’ll come with us!” Barb said as only a Jewish mother could, though instead of sounding pushy, it seemed Sherri was perfectly happy with Barb’s plan.
