by Annie Jocoby
Finally, after what seemed to be an eternity, he stopped crying. But he still had his head on my lap, clutching my legs desperately. He was breathing hard, in and out, in and out, and started hiccupping. I just sat still, a perfect marble statue, except I continued to massage his back and shoulders. I buried my fingers into his neck, trying to ease his tension with my touch.
He finally lifted his head, and looked me in the eye. “I have to see Benjamin,” was all he said.
I nodded. I knew that was coming. “When?” I asked.
“We’re going to leave from here.”
“I’m going, too, right?”
“Of course. I need you there with me, to keep me sane.”
I sighed. “I hate to ask this, but why?”
“Benjamin has Stage Four lung cancer. He only has a matter of weeks to live.”
“I see.” I waited for him to say more. I knew him so well now that I knew just how to react to every situation. Sometimes it helped if I talked. Sometimes it helped if I was silent, and let him do all the talking.
This seemed to be the latter situation.
“So….I told Sarah that I didn’t care that he was dying. I don’t want to see him.” He ran his hands through his hair, and started patting his legs nervously. “But she made the point that I would need closure. Otherwise I would regret it for the rest of my life.” He paused for a long time, and tears came to his eyes once more. “I have to admit that she has a point.”
I nodded. “I agree. You only have one chance to say your piece with him. I think it’s wonderful that you’re doing this.”
“Maybe he’ll finally tell me why he did what he did to me. That’s my hope, anyhow. Deathbed confession and all that, you know.”
“That would be perfect,” I began. “But Ryan, don’t expect it. I’d hate to see you get your heart broken if it doesn’t come through.”
He said nothing, just nodded.
I felt for him so strongly, especially at that moment. Once again, I saw him as a little boy, terrified of his father. At this moment, he wasn’t a 33-year-old bank president. He was an 8-year-old boy who was terrified of being beat for the smallest transgressions, while he watched his mother slowly slip into oblivion. It must have been so hard for him, so very, very hard. I put my arm around him, and could feel him shaking all over.
I kissed his forehead. Then we were kissing, slowly, tenderly. We hadn’t been physical like that since the day we found out that our story was breaking all over the world. There had just been way too much tension. There was still a lot of tension, but it was time to overcome that and give comfort to one another in the form of lovemaking.
He put his hand on my thigh, and I felt the familiar shivers. Somehow, his touch never got old. It always felt like the first time with him, no matter how many times we made love. His lips on my lips felt like they were touching for the first time. His strong, yet gentle, hand on my skin felt like it had never been on my skin before. As he ran his fingers through my hair, softly entangling his smooth hands in my rather thick mane, it was like he had never done this before to me. It was always the first time for me. I felt just as giddy inside as I did in our first meeting - my stomach doing cartwheels, my heart beating like a timpani, and my hands shaking a tiny bit.
I wondered if it would ever get old, feeling him touch me like this.
I certainly hoped not.
He slowly undressed me, unbuttoning my shirt, while kissing my shoulder lightly. I sighed, as his lips made their way to my breasts, then stomach. I was still quite thin, as I was forever monitoring my diet these days, so I wasn’t in the least bit self-conscious about his mouth making its way to my nether region. He unbuckled my jeans, then slipped off my panties, his tongue slowly exploring inside me. Tenderly, gently, he kept me enthralled like that for almost an hour. For the first time since the sordid story broke, I was lost in his touch. Nothing else mattered in that moment, as I was brought to orgasm after orgasm.
And the best was yet to come.
I could hear him breathing in my ear, his breath feeling hot and sticky sweet. There was a faint smell of honeysuckle in his hair. His shirt was still on, but he had slipped off his shorts and boxer briefs, and he entered me slowly, kissing my breasts, neck and face, while his hands were entertwined in my hair. He nibbled my earlobe, while I stroked his back and bit his neck. I tongued the hollow of his collarbone, and grabbed ahold of his hand, and sucked his fingers gently. He sighed, and hesitated briefly, before his thrusting came harder, more insistent. All of our grieving and stress was being relieved in this cathartic experience. Both of us had been laid low and humiliated, yet, here we were, enchanted with one another, exactly as if nothing had happened to intrude into our perfect world.
In the back of my mind, I knew that this moment was all we had, and that we would have to return to earth as soon as it was over.
I willed it to last forever.
As it was, it did last several hours, with us kissing passionately and slowly making love. It was all so…engrossing. Beautifully engrossing. Mesmerizing. We were completely in tune with one another again, and it was like nothing else was in the world but that. We didn’t speak any words, just communicated with our eyes and our touch. That would have to be enough for now. It was our form of escapism, I knew. But it was just so loving and real, that it didn’t really feel like escaping.
It just felt like love.
After we made love, we lay there on the bed, still not talking. I was afraid to say anything that would possibly break the spell. He kissed me lightly on the forehead, and spoke. “Thank you for that. It was just what I needed before seeing…him.”
I nodded, not saying a word.
Then Sarah was knocking on the door. “Hey, you guys, it’s dinner time,” she said.
We made our way out to the sunny terrace that was on the side of the enormous home. Sarah was there with Cori and Alice and Henry. Henry was a mischievous looking scamp, with choppy dark hair and a slight weight problem. Alice was just like her mother, in looks, anyhow. Slender, blonde, precious.
They both eyed me suspiciously.
Henry spoke “Hi, Uncle Ryan. What’s this I hear about you being gay? And why are you with a woman, anyhow?”
Ryan flushed scarlet. Sarah shot the kid a look, but he just shrugged his shoulders. “It’s not a big deal,” he said. “A lot of kids at school have gay parents and stuff.”
Oh, geez. How to explain bisexuality to a child? I was well aware that kids in Henry’s liberal school were learning tolerance for gay people, but, as far as I knew, they weren’t learning much about bisexuals.
Ryan decided to tackle the issue as if Henry was an adult. “Henry, I am very much in love with Aunt Iris, here,” he said, putting his arm around me. “But I also have a guy whom I love as well.”
Henry narrowed his eyes. Alice stayed mute through the whole exchange, although I did see her kick her brother under the table. “How can that be?” he asked. “We haven’t learned about this in school yet.”
“Well, maybe you should,” Ryan said. “You’re what, 10? You’re going to meet others like me, so you should just be prepared for that.”
Then Alice finally chimed in. At 8 years old, she seemed wiser than her older brother, probably because she chose to keep her mouth shut. “Shut up, Henry. Let Uncle Ryan love who he wants, and don’t judge him about it.”
I smiled. My first instinct was correct about Alice. She was precocious beyond her age.
Henry just shrugged, and started yammering about baseball. Neither kid seemed remotely interested in me, and who I was.
However, after the dinner, before they went to bed, Alice came up and gave me a hug. I hugged her back, and she looked up at me and said “You are so much better than the other one.”
I smiled. “That’s what I heard.”
“Did you really rescue pit bulls?”
“I sure did,” I said.
“That’s so cool. I want one so bad, but mom just wants Co
ri. She says she doesn’t need another dog, but I would really love one. Maybe you can drop one off the next time you’re here?” The little girl was dead serious about this.
“Uh, your mom wouldn’t like that much.”
“I know. It doesn’t hurt to ask, though.”
Henry was next. He was a little more standoffish, but he did approach me. “Sorry about embarrassing you.”
“Not a prob.”
“Do you like One Direction?”
“Love them.” Which was true. They were my guilty pleasure. Justin Bieber and Selena Gomez, too. I was really a teeny-bopper at heart.
“You wanna come up and listen to them with me?”
“Sure,” I said. “Let me go and tell Uncle Ryan first.”
I found Ryan and Sarah out by the pool, talking quietly. They immediately stopped when I came out to see them. They looked very uncomfortable. The pool was illuminated by the tennis courts, but Sarah did not turn on the lights on the terrace, so they were sitting in the dark. Ryan had his familiar scotch rocks in front of him, and Sarah was drinking a glass of white wine. I saw she had the bottle with her as well. She poured a drink while I kneeled down to talk to Ryan.
“I’m going to listen to music with Henry,” I said.
He simply nodded. Sarah was looking at him, not looking at me, and not saying a word. I could tell that I was interrupting a serious conversation. It was just in the air that they were talking about something engrossing.
I went back upstairs, but I heard a snippet of conversation as I was walking away from the French doors that enclosed the terrace. “When are you going to tell her about it?” Sarah asked.
I groaned. What now?
I simply shook my head, and started towards Henry’s room.
Henry’s room was covered in movie posters and cartoon cells. He had a flat screen television with the latest X-Box attached, as well as a Blue-Ray player. His bed was a little racing car, with the comforter a NASCAR comforter, with pictures of Dale Earnhart Jr., Jeff Gordon, Danica Patrick, and others that I didn’t recognize. Like many people, I only knew the superstars of racing. The room was surprisingly neat, considering that this was the room of a 10-year-old boy. Some of the books on the shelf were not put back, but were laying horizontally and scattered around, but, other than that, not much was out of place. One Direction was playing on the CD player. He handed me a comic book, which was an old-school Superman issue. I flipped through it, becoming surprisingly fascinated by the stories that were in that issue.
After a little while, Henry asked me “so, do you have sex with Uncle Ryan?”
I knew that one was coming. “Yes.”
“And did you know that he gave another guy blow jobs?”
“Yes.”
“What do you think about that?”
“This Superman comic book is pretty cool. You got any others?”
He looked at me skeptically, then gave me another comic book.
He persisted in asking more questions about it for the next half hour, when Ryan peeked his head in the door. “It’s late, beautiful. I’m heading to bed.”
I nodded. “I’m right there,” I said, then said good night to the inquisitive Henry.
We got ready for bed, then climbed into the California King, snuggling under the covers. I ran my fingers through his hair, and touched his cheek. Then waited for him to tell me the latest bombshell.
Which he did. “Nick called me. He’s actually in touch with Rochelle.”
I nodded. “Go on.”
He drew a breath, the let it out slowly. “And, well, you know she’s out.”
I felt the familiar chill and sick feeling. “Yes, go on.”
He was silent for awhile, clutching my hand. Then he said “she’s made threats against you.”
Now my whole body felt the extreme freeze. “What do you mean?”
“Nick said that she’s told him that she wants to kick your ass for getting her first lawyer to withdraw from her case.” He wrapped his arms around me. “But don’t worry, I’m already on hiring a bodyguard for you.”
Good god. A bodyguard. That’s all I fucking need.
“I don’t need a bodyguard,” I protested.
Ryan glared at me, narrowing his eyes. “Yes, you do. Do you really want a repeat of the last time Rochelle decided to teach you a lesson?”
At that moment, I once again started feeling disconnected from him. My mind started wandering, as I was realizing, perhaps for the first time, what a screwed up situation I had gotten myself into. I was desperate for love before I met him, and, for the longest time after I met him, I felt that I was living some kind of dream. A good dream. Now, it had turned into such a nightmare, and I irrationally felt hatred for him. Hatred for what was going on, for what I was going through because of him and his fucked up life and his problems. I would have been much happier with just some normal guy with normal problems. Instead I was a – what did that newslady say? A dystopian Cinderella. Perfect description for me. Now, on top of having all my dirty laundry aired to the world, I was in need of a bodyguard. Because of him. My life was once again threatened. Because of him. I almost died. Because of him.
And it struck me that there was a naked picture out there of me, in the hands of some random guy I hooked up with on Spring Break all those years ago. That was probably viral on the Internet by now. I hadn’t checked on that, but I would imagine that would be the case. I mean, I was a notorious celebrity, and I did absolutely nothing wrong.
I was a celebrity because of him.
I was lost in all these thoughts, while Ryan continued to just stare at me. He was waiting for my answer on if I would willingly accept a bodyguard, or if he would have to force me to have one. I knew that I really didn’t have a choice in the matter, and that, too, made me angry.
I just shook my head. “No bodyguard. If she finishes me off, she finishes me off. I really don’t care at this point.”
His expression turned icy, like I had never seen it before. The green eyes were like two cold jewels, devoid of life and expression. Then he turned his head, and entire body, and, without a word, went to sleep.
I got up and out of the bed, not wanting to be there with him anymore. I headed down to the kitchen, looking in the fridge for something to eat. I found some hard salami and rolls, and brought them out.
Then was startled by the figure of Sarah sitting at the kitchen table, a cup of coffee in hand.
“Oh, I’m so sorry,” I started, feeling embarrassed that I was just helping myself to food, like I lived there or something.
“What are you apologizing for?” she asked.
“For helping myself to your food. I, I, I will buy some more salami and stuff.”
“Don’t be ridiculous. God, you’re weird sometimes,” she said, but she was smiling, so I figured she said that at least partially in jest. Then, looking at me, she said “So, are you going to join me here at the table, or are you going to slink away and eat that stuff on the sly somewhere?”
I didn’t want to join her at the table. I wanted to be alone. But, to be polite, I put the food down on the table where she was, and proceeded to make my sandwich.
As I prepared my sandwich, she was eyeing me interestedly. Then she said “so, what brings you here at this hour?”
“Couldn’t sleep,” I said.
“There are problems with you and Ryan, aren’t there?”
I just shook my head. It was none of her business.
“I know better,” she said, as I shot her a look that told her not to go there. But, she persisted. “Listen, I know that my brother has had a pretty weird life. None of which was his fault. Well, the drugs were, but even those weren’t really his fault, because our father drove him to it. Ryan was the victim for many years, and he came through it kinda a half ghost, half person. He was so checked out before he met you. He just went through life mechanically, from day to day, doing his job, dating his bimbos, and, when I called him, he was pretty laconic,” she
said, twisting her cloth napkin into a rope. “You know, ‘yes,’ ‘no,’ that sort of thing. When he met you he became, I don’t know…flesh and blood again.”
I sighed. I had heard this before, from Nate and from Ryan himself. It’s almost like they all wanted to guilt me into staying, in case I had it in my mind to run.
I looked at her, wondering how much I could really confide about how I was feeling. She was his sister, and would probably tell him everything I said. Her eyebrow was raised at me, as she sipped her coffee through her full lips. Without a stitch of makeup, she still glowed. Her skin was flawless, her eyes a cerulean blue. She casually crossed one of her perfect legs over the other, still watching me behind her powder blue coffee cup with the words “Harvard, Class of ‘98” printed on the front.
Finally, I decided to take the chance and do a few confessionals. “I know that Ryan has been through a lot,” I began. “But I just feel that…”
She was still watching me, not saying a word, her expression very difficult to read.
I began again. “I guess I’m just frustrated that, ever since I met him, my life has been in danger. Well, I mean, ever since the incident with Rochelle. Now it’s even worse. The whole world knows my name. I want to be anonymous, and I never asked for any of this.” My hand involuntarily went to my face, as I rubbed my eyes. “The bodyguard idea is the last straw.”
To my surprise, her expression softened, and she covered my hand with one of hers, and patted it lightly. “I know it’s been hard for you. But remember what I told you. You have been his lifeline, and he would take a bullet for you if it comes to that.”
“I know that. It’s just…” I took a deep breath. “How do I keep from resenting him?”
“Only you know the answer to that. At any rate, there are going to be trials ahead. You guys have to face them together, because they’re going to affect both of you,” she said, as she got up from the table to put her coffee cup in the kitchen sink. “And seeing our father isn’t going to be fun or pretty. You need to have enough strength for all of us, because there is liable to be some kind of break down coming from that. Fair warning.”
