Maldeamores (Lovesick) (Heightsbound #0.5)

by Mara White

  I make the suggestion to Dr. Davidson that maybe what’s missing is love—that I can’t get turned on by someone I’m not in love with.

  “But Belén, you lubricated when you made out with Jeremy in the bathroom, if you recall. You were so turned on that you were ready to have sex with him, were you not?”

  “I think it’s because I was drunk. And I was in love at that point, I was just directing it at another person.”

  “Love and sexuality are two separate things. I know that, as the sensitive and romantic humans we are, we’d like to believe differently, but sex and love can be mutually exclusive. It’s quite possible, Belén, that you were turned on by Jeremy and you don’t even have to like him.”

  “I disagree. I think I got wet – ”

  “Lubricated,” Dr. Davidson suggests.

  “I think that I lubricated and wanted him to fuck me – ”

  “Wanted intercourse,” she says, raising an eyebrow.

  “Sorry, wanted intercourse, just to make Lucky jealous and desire me.”

  Dr. Davidson sends me home with a folder full of printed-out studies on human sexuality and arousal. Doesn’t she know I work in the library? Doesn’t she know I’ve spent a year and half trying to reason with all of my feelings for Lucky?

  I show up the following week and tell her I finished reading her studies. I hand the folder back to her and plop in my chair across from her desk without taking off my jacket.

  “And?” she asks, pushing her glasses up her nose.

  “I’ve decided I’m different. I’m my own case study. I can’t be classified. I still believe in love.”

  She sighs and nods her head. We spend the hour talking about how I need to hurry up and decide on a major. She sends me home with a few more porn DVDs and a meeting place and time for co-dependency group therapy. I’m getting help, but from the contents of my backpack you’d just think I was getting sicker. I don’t even have sex, yet I need all of this therapy for it.

  I study the porn like it’s an assignment. I learn about rim jobs and deep throating, double penetration and ass-to-mouth blow jobs. None of it looks sexy to me, but I do find it interesting. I would do all of it, and then some, but only with Lucky. Lucky and no one else.

  On Friday, Lucy takes me to a gay bar and I get completely hammered. Lucy’s friend Kat from Chicago is visiting New York City; she took the bus up for the night to come hang out with us, so we have reason to celebrate.

  Kat is beautiful, with long, dark, lush curls, full pouty lips and a soft, round face. Her breasts stand at attention even though she’s not wearing a bra. I can tell after she has a few drinks that she’s flirting with me. I do want to experiment, I do want to try to be a normal girl with normal feelings and not be stuck perpetually in love with one person.

  I ask Lucy to accompany me to the bathroom. It’s a single room with no stall and she pees in front of me. We are roommates, after all, so we’ve seen all there is to see of one another.

  “Do you like her?” Lucy asks as she rolls toilet paper around her hand.

  “She’s beautiful and sweet. She looks soft. I do think she’s sexy.”

  “Yeah, but are you attracted to her? Sometimes, Belén, you are so weird.”

  “I’m attracted to her, as much as I can be.”

  “Then go for it! I mean, ask her if she’s interested. Do you want me to talk to her about your situation?”

  “Nope. Because then she’ll either think I’m crazy or she’ll get her feelings hurt. I don’t want her to think that she’s some kind of experiment.”

  “Just so you know, Bey. Most people are down for casual sex. It feels good, it’s fun—sometimes even more fun without the trappings of a relationship.”

  “What are you saying?”

  “Saying that even if they knew that you were collecting case studies, most humans would be down for fucking—I mean, volunteering for your cause.”

  “Well, I just don’t want to take advantage of anyone.”

  “Guess what, BeyBey? I don’t really think it counts in this situation. I mean, normal people don’t really hold casual sex against one another. Chances are, she’s not going to wake up in the morning demanding blood tests and a marriage license. Although she might ask for your email,” Lucy says as she washes her hands.

  “Okay. Thanks for the advice.”

  “Kat’s a cool girl. I’m sure if you tell her how you feel she’ll be fine with it. Just don’t do it if you’re only trying to score bonus points with your psychologist. You should be doing it for you—not as an assignment.”

  We walk out of the bathroom together and I’m nervous and excited.

  “Bey?”

  “Yeah?”

  “Try not to do that much talking.”

  “Got it.”

  “And Bey? Maybe try to not even mention the whole Lucky thing. It kind of ruins the moment.”

  Kissing a girl is truly very romantic. They have softer lips and their hair tickles your face, plus they smell really good. They have pillowy breasts instead of stubble. Kat is kind of breathless and gaspy, which is different from grunting and growling or swearing and posturing. I’m too scared to touch her breasts even though she feels mine through my shirt.

  She also asks me lots of questions, which seems different from boys. She asks permission before she does every single thing; maybe that’s date rape awareness from college, but it seems light years away from the boys in the Heights.

  We only kiss for a little bit and then I can’t keep my mouth shut. I tell her that she looks like Snow White and that her hair is the softest I’ve ever felt.

  Her fingers dance down my belly and slip into my underwear. I gasp in surprise and she drags her finger down the center of my core. I shiver all over and feel heat flush me there. She pushes her middle finger in as far as it will go. I whimper a little bit and even move my hips. But I can’t tell if I’m scared or turned on or a strange mixture of both things.

  Eventually she pulls her finger out and lifts it to her face. She then delicately traces her lips with the juices she pulled from inside me. She moves it all the way around like she’s applying her favorite lip gloss. I quiver a little at that. Kat knows something about seduction. We make out some more and I taste myself on her lips. Instead of heightening my arousal, it kind of puts a damper on it. It smells too familiar—I don’t know how to explain it. We end up chatting more about school and music.

  Then, inevitably, my thoughts move to Lucky. I tell her everything, from my cousin, to Jeremy, to my porn collection and my new group for co-dependency.

  “So you’re almost twenty and you’ve only kissed two people before tonight? Wow, what a trip!” Kat says, yawning. “And you’ve never had sex?”

  “Not yet,” I say studying her face trying to interpret her reaction. “But I know a lot about it.”

  “You want to try?”

  I nod my head yes, but I’m not a hundred percent sure that I do.

  “Do you?” I ask her.

  “Hell yeah, I’d totally fuck you. But you should think about it first. Virginity is really important to some people. If it is for you then we should maybe hold off.”

  “I always imagined it would be with Lucky, but that’s not going to happen.”

  “I’m afraid you’ll regret it tomorrow, then. Let’s just mess around and we’ll see what happens.”

  “Was your virginity important to you?”

  Kat moves her long hair over one shoulder. She’s got naturally red lips that are irresistible for kissing.

  “I lost my virginity to a boy. It was kind of uncomfortable. I didn’t even really like him, I just wanted to get it over with.”

  “Did you regret it afterwards?”

  Kat nods her head and it looks for a moment
like she might cry. Her nails are perfect ovals painted a bright, cherry red. Everything about her is beautiful; I wish I was more into it.

  “Well, he was the first and last guy I ever slept with.”

  I like Kat so much, I wish I could fall in love with her. I think she’s got a warm heart and that she would love back with honesty. I lean in and kiss her cheek.

  “Let’s go to bed. I don’t want to regret anything.”

  Kat sleeps in my twin bed with me and cuddles up to my body. She wraps her arms around me and throws one leg up over my leg. It feels really good to cuddle her but it also makes me cry a bit. She was interested in sex with me and I froze up in fear of regretting it later. She probably would have been an enthusiastic lover. And I do want to get it over and just be done with it.

  I dream that Lucky’s breath is hot as he whispers in my ear. Then I feel the wet slide of his tongue as it slips over my jawline and dips down to my mouth. I open everything up to him. I roll on my back and spread open my legs. I breathe into his ear that I’ve been waiting for him, that there aren’t enough seconds in this lifetime for me to ever get enough of him.

  I wake up from my arousal but Lucky isn’t here. I’m grinding into Kat’s leg and I immediately feel embarrassed about it. She doesn’t appear to be awake. I lie there and stare at the ceiling in frustration until my pulse slows down and my breathing returns to normal.

  I guess I’m doomed to love only one impossible person. Lucky’s kiss ruined me for every other kiss. My glass heart sits trapped at the bottom of a honey jar with Lucky’s name permanently written all over it.

  Chapter 16

  “Just stand and say your name and tell us a little bit about your co-dependent relationship if you’re ready.”

  I’m not ready. But boy is the guy in the all-beige safari outfit ready. He tells us about Jan and how they met and how they got married and how she became an alcoholic and a prescription drug user. She’s addicted to Oxycodone and takes Valium on top of it. He tells us how he used to sit outside of the bar in his pick-up waiting for her while she cavorted with other guys and got wasted—all because he didn’t want anything to happen to her when she drove home drunk. Then when she stumbled out making out with some dude and he tried to get her into the truck she would hit him—or sometimes the guys she was with would, too. She would say all sorts of terrible, nasty things to him. I can’t believe this Jan person. I can’t believe she’s so lucky to have Safari Guy and how mean she is to him. We break for cookies and coffee after we hear about Jan. Safari Guy has obviously taken up too much of our allotted time. But I can see why, because he’s got a lot to talk about.

  I’m the youngest person here. I can’t help but wonder if I’ve come to the right support group. Maybe I need an inappropriate sexual fetish one, or maybe unrequited love, or maybe a group for teenagers with teenager problems.

  I’m the last to speak and I can feel it coming. All of their pity-filled stares, all of their gossipy thoughts floating. All of the co-dependees will probably know my story by morning. The sick fuck who fell in love with her brother-cousin and wants to screw him.

  “My name is Belén and I’m co-dependent with my cousin, who I’m in love with,” I add a little bit more quietly. I shift my feet and stare down at the floor.

  I look around the room. Safari Guy doesn’t bat a lash. He’s already okay with my story. He smiles at me instead and nods like I’m fortunate to be less fucked up than he is.

  I learn two things in co-dependency group therapy. That the dynamic between Lucky and myself might have a lot to do with the fact that he uses drugs – something I never thought of before. And secondly, that Jan baked the cookies we’re all eating, so even though she’s a rotten drunk, she does have some redeeming qualities. The cookies are off the charts and I eat four and pocket another two to bring home to Lucy.

  The most insane part doesn’t even happen in the room. When we’re all filing up the stairs of the now-defunct Chinese restaurant, there’s a truck waiting for Safari Guy with its headlights blazing. When he climbs into the truck the dome-light goes on and it illuminates a woman driver who leans in and gives him a peck on the cheek. I stand frozen and dumbfounded in the glare of their headlights.

  Safari Guy leans out and yells over to me, “Need a ride? We’d be happy to take you!” I decide he looks like John Denver and Jan has a nice smile. “Jan, this is Belén, our new member.”

  “I’m fine,” I say lifting my hand meekly and walking toward the truck. “Those cookies were everything. I stole two for my roommate,” I say to Jan, confused as to why she’s not high or drunk. She looks kind of weathered but other than that seems to be a pretty nice person.

  “Thanks! They’re my specialty,” she says as she backs up the truck. Both Safari Guy and Jan wave like they’re pulling away from church.

  When Christmas time rolls around I decide to go home. It will be the first visit in a year and a half. My mom is so excited she gets the tree in November. I tell her it will dry up and lose the needles before I even get there. She can’t stop making plans. She wants to visit every person, every place we’ve ever been.

  The reality of going home hits me about a month before I leave. I start working extra hard at both of my therapies, trying to build up resistance to falling back into my old ways. I’m scared, no, I’m terrified that Lucky might be there. I’m scared to see Titi; I don’t even want to see Yari.

  Mami meets me at Grand Central, all bundled up because it’s snowing. Looks like it might be a white Christmas. The train station is overwhelming. I’m not used to being squished up against so many people. Everybody has a ton of shopping bags; they’re all moving so fast it looks like they’re running.

  Mami smothers me with hugs and kisses and holds my hand on the subway uptown. I tell her about my classes and finals and what I’m taking next semester. I don’t tell her about therapy. I don’t want her to think I’m unhappy. I’m not unhappy, I’m just kind of stuck.

  We make modongo for dinner. Titi is coming. Lucky doesn’t arrive until tomorrow.

  I open the fridge and peek in to see if my honey jar is still there. I find it behind Hector’s beer, just where I left it. My room is the same too, except it feels drafty and cold. I lie down on my bed and stare up at the ceiling. I fall asleep like that, and I wake up to Titi and Mami leaning over me telling me dinner’s ready. I cry when I see Titi, I didn’t realize how much I missed her. She hugs me hard and tells me “hay que engordarte niña,” because she thinks I’m way too fucking skinny. We eat in the kitchen and Mami and Titi are so loud and so funny that they have me in stiches. I think I’m bursting with happiness and a belly full of warm soup. Titi ran downstairs to bring up her batch of coquito to fatten me up. I do everything to avoid speaking about Lucky, but, in the end, he finally comes up.

  “He misses you, cariño, he feels bad about how you left things. He’s grown up a lot.”

  “Me too,” I say, smiling at my aunt.

  “You were just kids getting in fights. Having those crushes that we all have and you look back and laugh at them later.”

  Mami’s eyebrows shoot up. She doesn’t want me to contradict Titi on her well-groomed story of what happened between us. She doesn’t want me to say that Lucky was the love of my life. That I haven’t moved on, not an inch, not a smidgen. That I still dream of his touch and cry myself back to sleep after I wake up.

  “He’s looking forward to seeing you. And Yari too, they’ve kept in touch,” Titi says, rotating the thick gold bracelets on her wrist. I think she said that one to hurt, like a warning, like a swift, sharp kick in the gut.

  “I should call her,” I say, pulling my knees up on the kitchen chair. “What’s she doing?”

  No one seems to have any idea.

  After Titi has gone back downstairs and Mami takes a hot shower and puts herself to bed, stat
ing that she has to work in the morning, I retreat to my bedroom. It’s still cold in here, and peaceful. I page through books and look at my old journals. I check out the clothes in my dresser. It’s funny how you can imagine yourself in the future and it never turns out anything like what you pictured.

  I pull a box out from under the bed. It’s got a film of dust on it and I blow it off, kicking up a dust storm. The box contains old pictures and yearbooks. I know the whole thing is chock-full of pictures of me and my cousin. I proceed with caution.

  But it’s not long before they’re spread out around me. Dozens of pictures of us, smiling at the camera. Missing teeth, ridiculously dated clothing, with Hemi’s kids—even with Yari. My whole life, always with Lucky.

  I dial Yaritza’s old cell phone number. It gives me the disconnected tone. It’s only ten o’clock. She might still be up.

  I stick on my tennis shoes even though it’s snowing. I throw my arms into my pea coat and wrap a huge scarf around my head.

  It’s quiet on the street, everything softened by the snow. I’m making tracks in the powder, which is on its way to passing my ankles. I stop in front of Yari’s familiar building. It’s possible she moved out. It’s possible she’s on her own now. I stopped talking to her at all when I went away to college. I don’t know if that’s on account of our friendship or if it has to do with Lucky. A guy with a North Face jacket and a doo-rag with a baseball cap over it pushes open the security door. I grab it before it closes.

  “You know Yaritza on the fourth floor?” I ask him.