The Raven Room

by Ana Medeiros

  He spent a few minutes looking at the bodies in front of him. Julian didn’t feel anything toward any of them. No lust, no appreciation, no envy, not even repulsion. The moans, grunts, and the erotic words exchanged were flat noises to him.

  He turned his head to the far left of the room, where the lighting’s red hue was particularly vibrant and he caught himself admiring the naked back of a female straddling her sexual partner. The male was sitting on a large chair and she was facing the wall. All Julian could see was her very long, tousled hair falling down her back, the curve of her buttocks, the soles of her bare feet and her arms, resting on the shoulders of the male under her. She was fully nude. And she was small. Julian could tell she was not only short, but also thin. Too thin. He had never been attracted to underweight women and, at that precise moment, he wasn’t sure why she had caught his attention. Maybe it was the way she was moving or how delicate her waist looked under the man’s oversized hands. Or that despite her very small frame, she was well shaped. She owned her body, Julian thought. She embraced it and was in charge of her sexuality. To him, that was what made her so incredibly alluring.

  Her partner got up and carried her across the room with her legs wrapped around his waist. The man was still inside of her and if she hadn’t rested her forehead on his shoulder, Julian would have been able to see her face. They sat on one of the several low benches in front of him and he now had almost a full view of her.

  She was aroused. She was enjoying herself but she was detached from her partner. Maybe she didn’t know him or maybe he didn’t matter that much to her. She was sharing her body, nothing more. Her pleasure was her own.

  Julian was lost in her experience. Suddenly, she lifted her eyes to him and his breath caught in his chest. He couldn’t tell what color her eyes were or the exact shade of her hair but it didn’t matter. As she continued to move with her partner, her lips were slightly parted, her hair in disarray, but those were details in the periphery of his awareness.

  It was all about her. And in Julian, for the first time in his life, there was stillness. Pure tranquility. She was near. Julian could see it on her flushed face, on her erect nipples, on her tense body. And in her eyes locked on his. She was sharing her approaching release with him through her unfaltering gaze.

  Julian felt it. When she quivered and tilted her head forward, as her orgasm took her in its fold, he had to close his eyes. The intensity of her pleasure was devastating to him. Never before had he felt someone else’s emotion as his.

  When he opened his eyes she was still watching him. The feeling radiating from his chest was so genuine that Julian wasn’t surprised by the burning sensation of unshed tears. He took a deep breath.

  “Are you okay?” Julian faintly heard. “Julian?” He turned his head and faced Meredith.

  “Did you hear me?” she asked.

  “Sorry?”

  “Are you okay?” she insisted, resting her hand on his forearm.

  “Yes.” He swallowed hard and stared at Meredith with a disoriented expression. “Why do you ask?”

  “Just want to make sure. I was talking to you for a while.” She narrowed her gaze on him. “What happened?”

  “Nothing happened. I’m just tired.”

  Meredith smiled. “Do you want to fuck?”

  Julian faced the room and realized the mystery woman had left. Her partner was also gone. He felt the urge to get up and search for her, not sure with what intent, maybe to speak with her, find out her name, or to just continue to admire her from a distance. But now that feeling was slowly being replaced by a need to attend to Meredith.

  He leaned closer to her. “I want to watch you being fucked by another man.”

  “Which one?” she asked.

  He scanned the room and he could tell several men were giving her lustful glances. “Your choice.”

  Meredith looked at one man who had been glancing at her since they had sat down.

  “Him. He’s attractive,” she said, not removing her eyes from the naked man lounging with a woman.

  “I think they’re a package deal.” He looked in the same direction as her. “I’ve seen them here a few times.”

  The couple smiled at Meredith and she smiled back. When the woman made a gesture for her to go join them, she looked at Julian with some uncertainty. She was turned on. She could feel the unleashed desire coiled within her but she wasn’t sure how to react to their invitation. Since entering the club a couple hours earlier, Meredith’s perception of reality had shifted and everything around her was unfolding within the dense haze of a primal sensuality she had never experienced before. It made her feel powerful. Alive.

  “I want to watch you being fucked by both of them,” Julian said to her, his voice commanding.

  He saw Meredith get up and, with no rush, walk up to the couple. She was younger than them and it was clear to Julian that they wanted her. The man gave Julian a quick glance, an unspoken request for permission, to which he answered with a small nod. Julian wanted to concentrate on the scene unfolding in front of him but his mind kept going back to the woman who had left so suddenly. He was attracted to her, that was clear, but there was another basic urge that he hadn’t felt in a very long time—a need to possess.

  Julian forced himself to focus again on his surroundings and his eyes met Meredith’s. Resting on the day bed, she was naked with the other woman’s face between her open thighs. Julian saw her hooded gaze, the one that always told him she was close to orgasm, and he smiled at her. Never was she as beautiful as she was now. Several people were admiring Meredith, her strong body in full display, arching her back with abandon every time the other woman’s tongue touched her sensitive core. She reached for the woman’s partner, who had been stroking himself while watching the two of them together, and Julian knew what Meredith wanted. Having a man come on her face, on her body, truly aroused her. While the woman was simultaneously pleasuring herself and indulging on Meredith, pushing her to climax, the man leaned closer to Meredith’s body. He couldn’t take his eyes away from both women prone before him, no one in the room could. Meredith closed her fingers on the woman’s hair, her legs quivering as her lower back lifted from the couch. The man, while holding himself in his closed fist, came on Meredith’s convulsing body. Some met her chin, pooling in her collarbone, but most of it landed on her nipples, and now was running down the side of her breast.

  Meredith had her eyes closed as she absently rubbed it on her skin. She felt its warmth, the delicate texture against her palm. When she opened her eyes Julian was crouching by her. The red glow of the room accentuated the inscrutable expression he wore so well and that made Meredith touch his lips with her fingertips.

  “You’re changing my whole existence,” she whispered, showing him a sad smile. “I don’t even know who you really are.”

  “You’re the one changing your own existence, Meredith. I’m just the man who’ll make sure you get home safely.”

  Julian kissed the inside of her wrist.

  “She knows who you are, though.”

  He frowned. “Who?”

  “The woman who was here earlier,” Meredith answered, continuing to look at him. “And you know that she does.”

  Chapter 5

  A very serious eight-year-old boy was staring at him. Julian was staring right back but his mind was elsewhere. Like Julian did whenever he felt restless, he was drumming his fingers on his knee. He didn’t know how long they had been in that room, maybe thirty minutes by then, and they had barely said a word to each other. The night before, after leaving the club with Meredith, Julian had dropped her off at her place and had gone home. He hadn’t slept. Even if he had wanted to sleep, he would have forced himself to stay awake. It had been one of those nights when the thought of doing a line of cocaine had crossed his mind several times but, as usual, he had opted for a couple of energy drinks instead.

  The boy leaned back and, balancing himself on the back legs of the chair, started to tee
ter back and forth. That went on for a few minutes before it caught Julian’s attention. He had taken the boy as a patient because the other psychologists in the department had complained about heavy workloads and how close they were to burning out. Julian saw their complaints for what they really were—excuses. He lectured at the university twice a week and he had the highest number of patients. In his line of work saying no to a child was not an option.

  He needed to focus.

  “Were you happy you got to see your sisters today, Harry?” Julian asked, closing his hand into a fist. He had to stop drumming his fingers. He forced both of his hands to remain on the table. Holding the notepad and a pen helped.

  “I guess,” the boy replied. His chair continued to wobble back and forth.

  A month earlier Harry had lit a couch on fire, while his two younger sisters slept on it. Now, as Harry sat in his weekly session with Julian, his sisters were two floors down recovering from third-degree burns.

  “I’m sure they were happy to see you,” Julian added.

  “I guess.”

  Harry had yet to show any emotion about what had happened and that’s what had brought him and Julian together. One of Julian’s colleagues had said he was a lost cause—a kid from Englewood, being raised by his elderly grandmother while the mother served a life sentence for murder. In Harry’s file Julian had read that, years before, the father had been shot dead during an altercation with the police.

  “When was the last time you visited your mother?”

  “A while back, I guess.”

  Julian almost sighed. Harry wasn’t making it easy for him, of course, on today of all days, when he was so off his game. He watched the boy’s chair sway back and forth a couple more times. It had started to make a squeaking sound and Julian knew he had to do something. Otherwise he would go mad, trapped in a room with a boy too young to understand what he was up against. Over the years, Julian had been repeatedly warned by the head of the department about his approach to his patient’s issues. He was directed to act as he had been trained, not just do what he felt was right. Julian’s reaction was to simply ignore such warnings. He followed his instincts, not a script.

  “I know you miss your mom. When I was your age all I wanted was to have my mom back, too,” he said, staring at the pen in his hand. “You want to tell her what you’ve been learning in school. Or how sometimes you’re confused and, just like a shaken can of soda, you are so angry inside that all you want is to let it out. Break something because you know you’ll feel better afterwards.”

  “Where was your mom? In jail?”

  “I don’t know. I didn’t have sisters or a grandmother to take care of me. I was all alone, and, let me tell you, it was scary.” Julian rested the notepad on the table and started to draw on the blank page. “South side, just like you.”

  “What about your dad?”

  “I never met him. Do you remember yours?”

  “A little.”

  “I remember my mom would tell me stories about enchanted cats, wizards, giants.”

  “Stories about enchanted cats?” Harry asked. “Sounds stupid.”

  “Yeah, they were pretty stupid.” Julian continued to draw. “Do you ever feel scared, Harry?”

  “Sometimes.”

  “Were you scared when your sisters got hurt?”

  There was a pause. “A little,” Harry finally said.

  “I know you were.” Julian hadn’t looked at the boy for a while. The smooth sound of his pen strokes across the paper was almost loud in the small room. “And I bet you still are.”

  Harry had stopped teetering on his chair. Curious to see what Julian was drawing, he had inched closer to him. “Are they going to be okay?” he asked.

  Julian turned his notepad upside down and started to use the top half of the paper. “Why do you want to know?”

  “Because.”

  “You’re afraid they’re going to stop loving you.”

  Harry didn’t reply. His eyes followed every line Julian drew.

  “Why are you afraid they’re going to stop loving you?” he continued.

  “Because I did something bad.”

  “Why do you care, Harry?”

  “It was an accident,” he said, cautiously touching the corner of the notepad.

  “You did something you didn’t mean to do and your sisters ended up getting hurt because of it.” By now Harry was sitting so close to Julian that both of their heads, bent over the sheet of paper, were almost touching. “Why didn’t you mean to hurt them?”

  “Because I love them.”

  “Sometimes we do things that hurt the people we love. Your mom, your dad, have done things that hurt you. I’m sure you got angry but did you ever stop loving them?” Julian asked, moving the pen faster across the page.

  “No.”

  “I know you’re scared but your sisters are scared too. Do you want them to be scared?”

  “No.”

  “So, what are you going to do?”

  “I don’t know,” Harry said shyly.

  “C’mon, yes you do.”

  “Tell them I’m sorry?”

  “That’s a good start.”

  “I won't play with matches anymore?”

  “That’s good too. What else?”

  The boy was quiet.

  “Listen, Harry,” Julian said, after a while, “I’ll teach you a little trick. When you do something that hurts someone, apologizing is important, but is not enough.”

  “So what do you do?”

  “You do something just for them. Something that doesn’t benefit you. You let them choose what cartoons to watch, even if you’d rather watch different ones; you let them eat the last mouthful of chips in the bag, even if you’re so hungry your stomach hurts; they call you a fool but you don’t call them a fool back because you know they’re just having a bad day, like you do sometimes.” Julian turned the notepad again, finding a blank spot to draw on. “And you do it again, and again, and again. You never stop. It’s like playing ball. Talent alone is not enough. You train hard until you’re good at it.”

  “I can try, I guess.”

  “I’ll be here to help you.” Julian looked up and smiled at him. “I got your back, Harry.”

  The boy nodded. “Why are you drawing?” he asked, when Julian turned his attention back to the notepad.

  “It’s something I do when I’m sad and scared. I draw characters from the stupid stories my mom used to tell me.”

  “Why are you sad and scared?” Harry asked.

  “Because, sometimes, I remember that I have also hurt people. But, unlike you, I can no longer do anything for them.”

  • • •

  After leaving the hospital, Julian was on his way to visit Hazel but Peter convinced him to meet for a quick dinner at Top Notch Beefburgers on Beverly. While growing up, Julian had promised to himself that if he ever had more than twenty dollars to his name, he would eat there once a week. So during his first year of undergrad, Julian had introduced Peter to Top Notch. It became one of Peter and Julian’s hangouts where they would gorge on burgers and fries that had been fried in beef tallow.

  “You look like shit, man.”

  “Piss off, Pete,” Julian said, taking a long sip of black coffee. “You always say that.”

  “That should tell you something.” Pete bit into his burger. “Why aren’t you eating?” he asked as he chewed. “All you do is chug down coffee.”

  Julian didn’t respond. His mind was on the woman he had seen at the club. He wondered if he would see her again and that only made him think about her more. The night before he had sat in front of his bedroom window and, while staring at the city below, gone over all the details of her he had been able the absorb during their brief encounter. She looked young, maybe the same age as Meredith. He wanted to know more about her. Meredith had said the woman had known who he really was. That’s exactly how Julian felt. She knew the man who hid the scars under a tattoo sleeve; the o
ne who kept returning to the heart of The Raven Room because it was the only way he knew how to control the need that threatened to consume him. Whoever she was, she had seen that man. She had recognized him. To Julian, that meant she was just like him.

  Julian brought the mug to his lips and enjoyed the burning sensation of the bitter hot coffee on his tongue. “How are Grace and the boys?”

  “Good,” Peter started to say but then paused, “you know what?” He dipped a french-fry in a mountain of ketchup. “Kids are a lot of work, really.”

  Julian chuckled, shaking his head. “You’ve always wanted kids.”

  “I know, I know,” Peter replied, mildly exasperated.

  “The boys are not the problem,” Julian continued. “What’s really going on, Pete?”

  “What’re you talking about?”

  “When I was over for Seth and Eli’s birthday, you were acting cagey. I can see there’s something eating at you.”

  “What?” Peter frowned. “I say you’re looking like road kill and you turn the conversation around and make it about my behavior?”

  “Don’t fuck with me. What the hell is going on?”

  Peter didn’t answer but he didn’t try to avoid Julian’s unfaltering gaze.

  The restaurant was almost empty. Besides the low humming of the music filling the place and the occasional laughter from two men sitting closer to the door, there was a poignant stillness in the air.

  Peter finally spoke and when he did his voice barely carried across the table. “That day I was chatting with someone online.”

  “Who?” Julian asked, his attention on Peter. “A woman?”

  “Yeah.”

  Julian waited for him to continue.

  “I have tried. God have I tried.” Peter ran his hand through his hair, something he did when he was feeling frustrated. “But I need more.”

  “Any others besides this woman?” he asked, his voice as low as his friend’s.

  “No.”