by Mara White
I’ma end this with something my Dad told me and maybe it’s shitty advice but it’s how I live my life. “Don’t ever NOT do shit because you’re scared. That’s how regrets are made.”
Anyway, sounds better in Spanish. Come spend the night with me.
Jaylee.”
I have tears spilling down my face and I’m not sure why. I love that he’s expressing himself and I love that I’m the catalyst for his expression.
“Are you going?” Sarah asks.
“Of course,” I reply.
Sarah stands and throws both arms in the air. “Yeeeessss! I tell you, you can’t make this shit up!”
“I have to get ready,” I say, but then I realize that tonight is also Sarah’s last night. I don’t want to abandon her. I know she has an early flight. “I’ll only go if it’s okay with you.”
“Are you kidding me, Great? Do you realize that Jaylee just convinced your husband to let him fuck you? And he hates him. It’s fucking amaze-balls is what it is. That’s the deal he brokered. Fucking priceless! You’re right, we’ve got to get you ready. What the hell do you think he negotiated?”
“It doesn’t take a genius, Sar. Jaylee has some dirt on Robert’s involvement in the bust and the arrests. He set him up. He set us both up. Robert was buying his silence.”
“You think so? I don’t buy it. The only person Robert would have to answer to for doing that would be you. He’s already got you where he wants you with the custody thing. Jaylee’s got something better than that – or worse depending on how you look at it. He’d only do it if Jaylee had him by the balls.”
“Jaylee said not to pursue it.”
“Who gives a fuck what Jaylee said. You’re the prize. You have every right to know what for.”
“The letter didn’t mention any details. What am I supposed to do – go to his house? Just show up?”
“Yeah, you’re right. Or he comes here with a dozen roses and Robert lets him in? Shit, Great. What if it’s some sick sort of trick and Jaylee didn’t really write that note? I don’t like this anymore.”
“Oh, he wrote it, Sarah. I told him I loved him for the first time last night. Nobody else knows that. Besides, Sarah, you shouldn’t ever not do shit because you’re scared. That’s how regrets are made, “ I say smiling. I want a last chance as much as he does. I won’t let fear stop me from making it happen.
CHAPTER 25
How are you supposed to enjoy your last night with someone? It’s like trying to enjoy your last meal. All the ingredients are there. It’s exactly what you asked for. Yet, every bite will be tainted with loss, every little burst of flavor embittered and outweighed by nostalgia.
Jaylee was right about us never experiencing the kind of sex we should have together. He may have taken the blame, but it was my fault too. It was also the fault of circumstance, quick encounters, not seeing each other regularly. We never had the opportunity to explore our pleasures or our dislikes together. And now we never will. We have only tonight.
We lay side by side on the double bed in his mother’s room. He greeted me at the door, shirtless, wearing his basketball shorts. This is how he hangs at home. I’ve worn white lace, a set that Robert had custom made for me. We’re both hesitant to talk, to touch. We consume one another with our eyes.
He bathes me in his love, tracing small circles along my jawline, over my shoulder and down the inside of my arm. He tenderly nips my earlobe and then my chin. He kisses me slowly and gently, coaxing my lips apart, his warm tongue capturing mine. He pulls back and affectionately nips my nose, then both of my eyebrows.
“There’s so much pressure, Jaylee. What if everything doesn’t go perfectly? What if tonight isn’t ideal?”
“Being with you is always perfect,” he says.
This man knows how to set my heart at ease. I wrap my body around his and squeeze tightly inhaling his intoxicating scent. I want to memorize every line and contour of him, commit to heart the contact of his flesh against my flesh.
“Maybe we should be open and talk again? You know, get to know one another,” he says smiling.
I can’t tell if Jaylee is being sarcastic or if he really wants to open up.
“Of course. I’m an open book for you. You can ask me anything.”
“Anything?’
“Sure. I’ll answer honestly. Nothing is off limits.”
“You ever been with a Dominican before?” Jaylee smiles. He looks intrigued.
“No. Only you.”
“Other Spanish guys?”
“Hmm. Just an Iberian.”
“Is that a person?”
“No. A peninsula. He was a Spaniard. I spent my junior year abroad in Barcelona. Someone I met there.”
“Was it any different?”
“From what? American men?”
“Naw, nevermind.”
“Are you only going to ask me questions about sex?” This is what runs through the mind of a twenty-three year old man.
“No. I wanna know why Sarah and Robert call you, ‘Great.’ Cause it rhymes with Kate?”
“That, and Kate is a nickname. My full name is Catherine. Like Catherine the Great.”
“I didn’t even know your real name. You don’t tell me nothing!”
He’s smiling. He loves this game.
“Where did you get your name?”
“My mom’s Janet, my dad’s Elías. Jali. They spelled it Anglo though.”
Jaylee rolls towards me and kisses me full on the mouth. He pulls my bottom lip down gently with his thumb to open my mouth more and kisses me deeper.
“No more questions?”
“You ever let a guy do you in the ass?”
Jaylee’s face is sincere, he’s genuinely curious.
“I thought you were done with the sex questions.”
“Answer that!”
“No, not full penetration.”
“Would you let me?”
“Yes,” I say it easily without even thinking twice.
Jaylee pulls me to him and kisses me more urgently than the last time. Pinpoints of heat prick up all over my body.
“What’s your tat?”
“Don Quijote on Rocinante.”
He laughs before I even get it out. He brings his hands to his face, his fingertips touching his eyebrows and tries to still his amusement.
“Sorry. Never thought I’d fall for such a nerd.”
“Do you love me, Jaylee?”
“Yes, I love you! Of course I fucking love you!” He shouts it and it’s my body that responds to his declaration. I feel it everywhere. I’m alight with it. I am his. I belong to this man.
He grabs both of my hands and forces them above my head. He rolls on top of me and I sink into the mattress underneath his full body weight. I want to capture it, to prolong it somehow, make everything halt indefinitely. I’m sick with the idea that no matter how slowly we take it, tonight will eventually end.
Jaylee stares into my face with such longing and desire that I come undone. It should be blissful, but instead I’m delirious. Love in our situation means incalculable pain. Separation will bring agony and it’s no longer a choice, it’s an inevitability.
“No more questions for me?”
“Coño!” he says slamming his fist into the pillow. “I do have more but I can’t lie here with you and not fuck you.”
“Fuck me then.”
Jaylee flips me over and keeps my arms extended above my head with one hand. With the other he moves my hair and nuzzles into the back of my neck. He’s memorizing my scent too. He’s as desperate as I am. His erection stiffens between my buttocks and he begins to rock slowly against my ass. He undoes the clasp of my lace bra and licks me right up the line of my spine. I gasp in surprise.
“Any particular way you want me to do this, Señorita Catherine?”
I stifle a giggle and shake my head ‘no’.
“Don Quijote,” Jaylee mutters to himself.
I laugh out loud and wiggle out
from under him. We settle onto our sides facing one another. Jaylee looks at me expectantly. He slams his fist into the headboard.
“Carajo! Let’s do something. I’m getting anxious.”
“Why don’t you just let yourself feel it? It’s good anxiety. Do you feel like you want to be rough with me?”
“Fuck, I’ll take you onto the floor and show you what full penetration feels like.”
“Really?” I know he’s kidding.
“No, Kate. This is your thing. I’m just following your orders today.”
“Do you like being rough with me? Does it turn you on more?”
“I like fucking you rough and soft. I like you all ways. I already told you. I’ll fuck you until I can’t anymore.”
It makes me so hot when he talks like that. I’m panting. I want him. I want him with everything. that. I. am.
“Kiss me. Please.”
God, how he kisses me. It’s both sweet and tender but so sexually charged with longing that I’m wet and grinding when he pulls away from me. His eyes are closed.
“Jaylee, keep your eyes open.” I’m not allowing him to escape today. I want him to be in the moment, here with me, the whole time. This might be the only chance we have. Ever.
His golden eyes blink open and hold mine solemnly. They are lit up from within and I can feel his desire emanating from him.
“Again. Please,” I whisper. I’m begging him.
He leans in and takes my mouth with his full lips. His kiss is deeper and stronger. His erection strains against me and I take down his shorts and pull him to me. He’s swollen and thick with desire but makes no move to overpower me or take the control out of my hands. I’ve always trusted him inherently but I know that allowing me to be in control requires a huge amount of trust on his part. He’s so vulnerable like this. It’s so sexy.
I use the pearls of pre-cum to lubricate him and gently fist him, captivated by his virility, by the beauty of his body.
“Jaylee, open your eyes.”
His eyes pop open and he looks deeply into me with a devotion that is humbling. I pull him to me again and gently guide him inside of me. He closes his eyes and moans. He rocks his hips softly and pushes himself deeper. His mouth goes to my neck, my breasts.
“I want you looking at me.”
He does and the unspoken connection is so powerful that it’s almost like the first moment we laid eyes on one another. It’s a harmonic recognition that leads naturally to a somatic pull.
“I love you,” I say it out loud, but my voice cracks under the weight of the truth in my words. It’s such a sweet relief to say it to him that my body responds and I begin to orgasm. Jaylee holds my gaze. His face is taken by a spirited smile that is the most earnest I’ve ever seen on him.
“Does that mean you’re mine now?”
He thrusts deeper into me, our eyes locked. I lose myself in the powerful orgasm. I succumb completely and I surrender to this love. His eyes search mine and I’m unable to answer him.
“Kate? Stop. Remember, you said you’d answer all my questions.”
He rolls on top of me capturing my ass in his strong hands and continues to thrust. My body combusts as I climax. It’s raw heat. My mind is numb and I’m lost in a universe of sensation. First it comes in the form of waves pounding on the surf and then slows to a measured rocking. I see the incandescence of bright white star points in a blackout sky. I can’t even tell I’m in the room. I’m too deep inside myself. He is so deep inside of me.
I’m barely back in my body when Jaylee’s thrust becomes urgent. He grabs both of my hands again and holds them over my head.
“Answer my question!” He pleads as his body rocks against mine. His hips slam into mine and he fills me fully, hitting right at my core. I’m unable to distinguish between the pain and the pleasure, between the anguish and the immeasurable love.
Jaylee commands my body and my heart like nothing ever has. I understand now why it’s called la petite mort. Not because we lose ourselves but because we are absolved in the other. All that is abject, all that causes pain and fear has no power in this moment of union. It is the purification of our regret, our disappointment and our suffering. An instant of symbiosis where we are allowed to forget that the more conventional expression of our love is impossible and due to circumstance, bound to be unfulfilled. This is where, in all of the best love stories, I kill him, or him, me. Where we take our own lives with the same dagger or burn in a boudoir pyre, the flames becoming symbolic of our passion, the evanescent burn of our love.
Instead, I wrap my spent body around his and whisper, “I belong to you” into his ear. He holds me tightly, ferociously, and remains inside me long after he’s softened and his desire has abated. We fall asleep like this, clutching one another against time and fate. It’s possible that his mother or grandmother return in the night to find us like this. They’re kind enough to leave us alone. We have all accepted defeat. In the morning we can barely look at each other. I fumble into my clothes and Jaylee lies supine staring at the ceiling. The end of our love affair looms so close that it’s saturated everything. It’s in the air we breathe and there is nothing we can say or do. He turns his head to me as I step toward the bedroom door. Our eyes hold one another. I can see the condemning weight of following in his father’s footsteps, the guilt of leaving behind all of the women that he loves.
“I’ll keep an eye on them. Especially Janinie.”
He only nods, his eyes gone glassy with loss.
The pain in Jaylee cripples me. It makes me vow to myself to do whatever it takes to get him freed.
CHAPTER 26
It’s only been two months since my final night with Jaylee, but it might as well have been two years. Not because I’ve put him out of my mind. That, I’m afraid, would be impossible. But rather due to the fact that Robert and I have made great progress in our reconciliation. As bizarre or unorthodox as Robert’s decision was to let me have a final night with Jaylee, it seems to have done the trick. I’m able to look at our relationship as a closed chapter, a terminated mission. I have a direction to go in now and a goal to strive for in my relationship with Robert. This, coupled with bi-weekly sessions under the supervision of Dr. Anita Thompson makes it hard not to apply myself to the success of my family. I’m managing on complete autopilot. Leave it to Robert, the super lawyer, to craft a deal that works for all sides. And like Jaylee requested, I’ve been able to drop the missing link about Robert’s transgressions. We don’t need any more examples of how we’ve done wrong by each other, there are more than enough that we’re acutely aware of.
I certainly have moments when I’m blinded by longing for him, when I’m paralyzed with loss at the thought of not seeing his smile or hearing his voice again. I promised him that if and when he’s convicted, I’d look in on his family, especially Janinie. I don’t plan on backing out of that commitment no matter how painful seeing them without him will be. I’ll do whatever I can to lessen the burden of having both Jaylee and his father imprisoned. To me this means helping out financially, although I purposefully never discussed the matter with either Robert or Jaylee himself. I figure, if I do it right, neither of them ever has to find out.
We’ve had no run-ins, or near misses to my knowledge. His name has become a ghost on the lips of both Ada and Pearl as well. My eyes still bore through the backs of every young Dominican man I see, trying to turn their silhouettes into his. I try to catch his name on the edges of conversations overheard on the street corners, when exiting the train, when running to the deli. But it never happens. The only person that I’m allowed to remember him with is Sarah, but only in phone conversations and never in the presence of the girls or even Carmen. Whenever I’m completely alone I indulge myself in the memory of his kiss. I retrace his finger-steps across my body. I sometimes whisper his name aloud to the silence. I wonder if he longs for me the way I do for him. I wonder where he is, what he’s doing and how he’s dealing with the impending trial and th
e idea of facing jail time. I wonder if he’s alone, if he thinks of me as often as I think of him.
I’ve thrown myself into my work. Claribel was kind enough to pass on a co-authoring gig with a colleague of hers to help get me back into the swing of things. I’ve even reached out to my advisor. The missing element is my enthusiasm. I no longer care what it means to be finished. I have no desire to see beyond tomorrow. Time is flat. Interest is flat. My life seems to have flatlined. I don’t think that I’m depressed; I think I’ve become numb. Strangely, the numbness makes me work all the harder at rebuilding my marriage. Robert said he would get us back to where we were and I cling to this as a sign that when we do indeed arrive, I’ll somehow feel better. I think I was happy before. I think I was satisfied.
Mr. Randolph has asked me to meet him at The Red Rooster restaurant in Harlem on 125th Street and Lenox before he heads back to Westchester tonight. He wants to go over my delivery for when I take the stand at my upcoming trial. Even though he has clients in the city, his law offices are located in Westchester. I think Robert strategically chose him in order to quell the inevitable gossip that would circulate in his own circles. I don’t know if the strategy worked because I don’t ask Robert what he has to endure due to my mistakes. It’s not something we talk about, despite the obvious fact that my husband could help both to explain and prepare me for a criminal trial. This is the result of him relinquishing some control at the advice of Dr. Thompson. Unless I ask him questions, he’s been advised by the therapist to let my trial be between me and my lawyer. Robert has been steadfast and determined. He won’t let anyone or anything divert him from his objective. That objective being me and my return to complacency.
I wear white and navy blue to see my lawyer, the same colors I plan on wearing during the trial and when I take the stand. I like to think that they up my innocence factor, that maybe if I appear chaste on the outside it will make me feel less guilty on the inside. Despite occasional reassurance from Mr. Randolph and Robert that I won’t get jail time, as a mother, I can’t help being terrified at the prospect. There is a penitent, deferential side to myself that feels like I should get jail time if Jaylee does. As if figuratively suffering alongside him could be an expression of love and solidarity. But I’m no longer allowed to entertain the idea that Jaylee and I are connected.
