by Dela
Move in date . . . December 20th.
That’s exciting. So you and Mr. Contractor are on speaking terms now?
I’ve been a good boy . . .
Oh, I thought you were going to say you’ve been bad . . . because then I’d have to punish you when you got back.
I take it back. I’ve been Mr. Naughty Pants.
Are you trying to sext me right now?
Maybe.
Take your shirt off.
All good sense flew out of my head for an instant. Then I thought about really doing what she ordered, but just laughed.
Done. Your turn.
It’d be better if you were the one doing it for me.
I’m calling the jet. Be there in one hour. Leave your door open, be naked, and have oil.
Oil? Kinky!
In the worst way.
I clenched the phone for dear life waiting for her response but it took longer this time. After one minute I sat back, still staring. Two minutes . . . three minutes . . .
Okay, too kinky. Forget the oil. Just be naked.
Five minutes passed. I set the phone down and walked to the kitchen when it beeped.
Sorry! Teaching class right now. I like the oil. Definitely keep the oil. Where does it go?
Are you sexting me while you teach? Because if you are, you’re amazing. And I’m obsessed with you.
No, I was on my lunch break. But it’s over now. I do have to go. I’m going to fake sick. See you in one hour. ;) And you better know where that oil goes . . .
“Winky face? What the hell does winky face mean?” I screamed desperately at the phone. I started dialing the jet, but thought better of it. I switched back to the messages app.
You’re not really going to fake sick, are you?
Lol. Do you want me to?
In the worst way.
I’m sorry, hon. I wish.
Hon? I’m definitely coming now . . .
Mr. Seat 2A you stay in your seat . . .
Naughty Pants. I’m Mr. Naughty Pants now. I need to be punished.
Okay, Mr. Naughty Pants, I’ve really got to go. I’ll call you tonight, though, k? And since you’re obsessed with me I’m sure I can call you whenever I’d like?
Whatever you’d like. Anything . . . I’m your manservant.
I waited the rest of the day impatiently. Thankfully Jessie called like she said she would. But I forgot an investor was flying in from New York this evening and wanted to meet me downtown. I called her after as promised, but by then she’d fallen asleep. Then the next four days slipped by under our noses. We played phone tag and caught up on texts when we could.
It was then, during this game of catching one another, that I remembered why I hated commitments. I didn’t mind, but I minded when I felt obligated. The dos and don’ts of a relationship bogged me down. They always had. Kendal, call me every day like a good boyfriend. Kendal, answer your phone when I call. Kendal, give up your meetings for me. Kendal, I don’t want you to solve my problems—I just want you to listen. Kendal, do I look pretty in this?
What is wrong with women? And here I was, already feeling guilty about not having an actual conversation with Jessie for a few days. It felt like I was in trouble. But she never said anything about it to me. We’ve been busy, right? Or was Jessie just different from those types of women? Was that even possible?
One Wednesday night I decided to take a walk down Santa Monica Boulevard. I liked coming here to get inspired by the freelance artists on the streets. The neon lights, the buzzing stores, even the conversations I eavesdropped on; it all inspired me. It was during a breakdancing performance that Jessie finally called.
“Hey hon,” I answered.
“You’re never going to believe what Bianca told me at the gym today,” she said. She sounded upset and for whatever reason the blood rushed from my head. See, commitment issues. Cue the guilt. Cue the shame. Cue the unnecessary blame.
“What?” I asked calmly, but my nerves took over and I was booking it back to my car so I could hear her better.
“That she totally jerked off Colby in the hot tub when we were all in there.”
“So?” Phew.
“So? You sound as if you already knew.”
“I did.” I clicked the lock and slid into the car.
“What?” I couldn’t miss the edge of disbelief in her voice. “Is that why you touched me under the water?”
“Of course not.”
“But you never told me.”
I was alone in my car but for some reason I shrugged anyways. “Because it didn’t matter. Colby was finally having a good time.”
“But that’s not okay.”
“But it’s okay what I did to you?”
“Yes,” she said plainly. I smiled.
“How is that different?” I wondered.
“Because his was a lot worse.”
“No it wasn’t. Ours could have easily ended up like that if we’d have spent a few extra minutes in there . . . why am I defending Colby?”
“The point, Kendal, is that you didn’t tell me.”
Women. “I didn’t think I needed to. I’m sorry.”
“And do you know what Gizelle told me?”
Great. “Do I want to know?”
“That after your dad passed away you went wrong . . . way wrong.”
It seemed, funnily, that any shred of wanting the inheritance split from my wishes in a flash. I didn’t need it. I don't need it. The one thing I cared about this very instant was Jessie and what I was going to do. I knew Jessie knew me. This was it. She’d discover how I’d behaved all those years we were apart. “What do you mean I went wrong?” I tried to brush it off.
“How many girls, Kendal? How many girls?”
My heart plummeted to a depth I didn’t know existed. “Jessie, I haven’t had a chance to tell you.”
“When were you going to tell me? After I slept with you?” she said sharply.
“Jessie, I did what I did because I needed a way to cope with the loss of my dad. I didn’t want to feel anything anymore.”
“Oh you felt something alright . . .”
“Jessie, that isn’t fair.”
She kept quiet but I knew she was there. Her soft whimpers were darts to my heart.
“Jessie?”
I waited for a response, the anger growing far worse than I wanted. I wanted to be caring. I wanted to be sincere. I needed to be perfect . . . but I was never good at that.
“Jessie! I don’t understand why you are so upset. You and I weren’t together,” I finally said.
“Because it was days after meeting me. Days! Do you know how long I had you on my mind after Whistler? I thought about you so much I couldn’t even agree to let anyone take me on a date! I . . . I don’t understand how you connect with someone like we did, then go and do what you did.”
“I’m sorry, Jessie. I wish I could take it back.” She sniffed in the background. “You need to hear the facts from me, not Gizelle. I didn’t start sleeping around until after it was confirmed I would never see you again. Never. And do you remember me telling you in Ashland that I could finally stop pretending? Every single time I was with someone I was imagining it was you. Every time. How pathetic is that? I was pretending it was a girl I would never see again in my life. A girl I had known for less than a week. Think about that. And maybe you’d be wise to come to me first and ask yourself before your nasty accusations tear us apart.”
“I need to go and think, Kendal.”
“No, Jessie, don’t go . . .”
Click.
I speed dialed her back instantly. It rang twice before she sent it to voicemail. I tried two more times, back to back. It didn’t even ring the last time.
I speed dialed Gizelle.
“Hello?” she asked. Daniela was in the back whining about something, so I knew she was already in a sour mood.
“What could I have possibly done to deserve what you just did?” I started.
; “What did I do?”
“You told Jessie about me. About how I used to be!”
“Oh that’s what this is about? No Daniela, you can’t have any more candy!” she said, exhausted. “Kendal, if you think a solid relationship can be built on secrets, then you are seriously mistaken.”
“I wasn’t keeping secrets. I hadn’t had a chance to tell her yet. You had no business telling her.”
“Maybe you’re right. But it’s my job as her friend to tell her the truth when she asks questions about you.”
“When was she asking about me?”
“Today, at lunch. Bianca shared her dirty little secret about Colby and the hot tub which, gross, we were all in there . . .”
“Which is why I got out,” I stated.
“You knew?” She sounded pissed. “See, this is exactly what I’m talking about.”
“Finish what you were saying. After Bianca, oh wait, Bianca . . . how could you judge me when you bring orgy girl on our trip?”
“What are you talking about? I like Bianca. She’s funny, and super sweet.”
“She groped me in the hot tub before Colby. That’s why I got out the first time. Remember? She chased after me inside. She groped me again and I swung her hand away. She told me if I wanted Jessie in on it she would be down.”
“She did not.” I could practically see Gizelle’s hand covering her mouth in shock.
“Dead. Serious.”
“Oh my gosh. I’m so sorry.”
“Whatever. Let’s talk about how I can fix this.”
“Daniela, go to your room,” she said, angrier this time. “Kendal?” she asked, checking if I was still here.
“Still here.”
“I told you to apply yourself.”
“What?”
“Apply yourself,” she repeated, as if I had a clue what she was talking about. “You and Jessie have some serious things to talk about. Does she even know about the inheritance deadline? Because that is what I would seriously be worried about if I was you. She’s going to think you’re just after her for more money.”
I breathed out, wiping my forehead. Women were so exhausting. “No. And you know that’s not why I’m after her. I really like her, Gizelle.”
“Point taken. I get that Colby was in the picture at first, but he’s not now. And Jessie is ready for a regular life. Do you even know what that is?”
“Of course I do.”
“I want to hear it.”
“What?”
“I want you to tell me what you can do to create a normal relationship. I’m trying to help you Kendal.”
“I don’t know.” I racked my brain for normal. It was hard, particularly because my normal glistened with private jets and expensive cars and gala balls. “Take her out on a date? Send her flowers? It’s sort of hard when you live in different states.”
“Why are you making so many excuses? If it were Austin, I would expect him to tell me everything from his past, all the way down to his darkest secret. I would expect him to be faithful while he was away.”
“Of course I’m faithful,” I sputtered.
“I’m not done. I would expect him to prove to me he’s in it for the long haul by showering me with thoughtful things, daily. I would expect him to talk about a family . . . babies . . .”
“Babies?!” My eyesight began dizzying.
“Kendal! You’re thirty-two and you ain’t getting any younger. Either Jessie is a call girl or the kind you take home to mom.”
“Okay, okay, I get your point. Apply myself,” I reiterated. But babies?
“Don’t make me have this conversation with you again. And to prove I am truly sorry for what I did, I’ll let you babysit Daniela while I go to a doctor’s appointment. Be at my house at ten on December 2nd.”
I quickly checked the calendar. “That’s a Saturday. Doctors’ offices aren’t open on Saturdays.”
“Prenatal ones never close, Kendal . . . oh my gosh you’ve got work.”
“Fine, I’ll be there.”
I hung up the phone and tried calling Jessie once more. It went to voicemail again. Jessie, I’m just going to try tonight. I shifted gears and drove my Maserati home. I waited a few hours and tried again. No answer. I laid down for bed with a sick feeling clawing in my gut.
Thinking I should probably send her flowers like Gizelle suggested, I shot out of bed and opened up my laptop. It was easy to order. I chose a large rose bouquet, yellow like the sun, because I remembered her telling me she missed it. I hit send and collapsed back on the bed, wondering if I would get a call back.
December snuck up quicker than I thought, and I was ready to leave for Gizelle’s. Things were still unresolved with Jessie and I—even after that two-hundred dollar bouquet I mailed to her. No call for the flowers. No attempts to return any of my desperate calls or texts. I realized I hadn’t seen her for a month now.
Gizelle’s comment about applying myself haunted me. Once I thought maybe I could surprise Jessie after school. I would be waiting at her car with another overly expensive bouquet of flowers when she walked out. I pictured it all nicely in my head, but the fear of rejection, the memory of her hatred for me and what I did made me chicken out.
Being a wuss sucked. I even started doubting that Jessie would forgive me for what I’d done, even though she wasn’t in the picture when I did it. When I met Jessie in Whistler I wasn’t afraid of anything, always doing stupid crap, but now, after talking to Gizelle, I was a freakishly scared thirty-two-year-old man. Or, was I really that set in my ways?
Jessie was no longer just the girl I liked more than any other. She became the girl, a possibility for my future. It psyched me out. Over these last stagnant weeks, when Jessie refused to return any of my texts, I thought of us as a couple. But just thinking about it made me nervous. She held my happiness in her hands. One wrong move, or her denying me, or refusing to forgive me, and I would end up right back where I started from.
Chapter Nineteen
Jessie
Deny. Deny. Deny, deny, deny. I’m sure he’ll call one more time. Good thing I’m good at hitting the red button.
After Bianca’s fiasco, I stayed clear of her for a while. The girl freaked me out. I didn’t know if she was being really nice, or actually hitting on me. When I tried to bring it up to Gizelle she went bonkers. And then I found out the truth. She totally made a move for Kendal. She touched him! And he didn’t even tell me. There were going to be a whole lot more denied phone calls.
One night as I was undressing after work, Kendal tried to leave me an apology voicemail. I erased it without listening. I remembered all those things he used to say, things I once thought were sweet. Jessie, I’m not in the habit of sharing. Jessie, I need you to myself. Jessie, I’ll never stop fighting for you. Jessie, yada yada yada. I screamed and yanked my bra at the same time, because it was misbehaving and I just needed it off, but the stupid thing jerked too hard and the clasps snapped clean off.
“Oh!”
I dropped to my knees looking for the small metal bars. I pinched them with my fingers and walked to the trash. My bra was sprawled across the floor. It was pathetic. I picked it up and tossed it with its missing pieces.
“Gizelle,” I said, grateful she answered her phone right away. “My bra just broke.”
She snickered. “You say it like it’s the end of the world.”
“It feels like it.”
“Cheer up. I’m taking you bra shopping. It’s about time you have more than one bra. Perhaps so many so you can’t name them.”
“I don’t name my bras.”
“Ahem. Bra, it’s singular. And yes, her name was Peppy.”
“How did—”
“I’m a mom. I know things.”
“Alright, well what am I going to do? Can you come with me tomorrow after school?”
“Hmm, Daniela has her Christmas recital and I have a PTA meeting. . .” She hesitated. I hated when she did that. Gizelle didn’t just hesitate all
of a sudden. She was planning an ill-fated scheme. Or checking her calendar, I told myself. I was beginning to go stir-crazy. “Can we go Saturday?”
“Saturday?! It’s Tuesday. That’s so far away.”
“I know, I’m sorry. I’m really busy this week. Just sport a sports bra all day like Sue and Bianca.”
“I don’t like my nips showing like they do.”
“You’re right, but that’s when I can go.”
“Fine, I’ll take it. What time?”
“Ten?”
I sighed. “Alright. You better put that in your calendar. I’m sure I’ll be sick of scaring people off with my hard nips by that point.”
Gizelle laughed. “See you then.”
By Saturday, my tatas were tired of wearing a restricting sports bra all day. I was just going to buy a new one today, so I decided to go to Gizelle’s free-balling the sisters. And I didn’t bring my coat, both because it was particularly warm outside, and because my armpits were sweating in their sweater. I parked on the side of the street and rang the doorbell. Gizelle answered in panic then disappeared back inside the house. I went in and closed the door behind me.
“Jessie, I can’t go. Something came up,” she said, frantically shoving papers into her purse from the console table.
“Gizelle, you don’t have to feel bad. It’s not like this is my first time buying a bra. I can go by myself.”
