by Claire Adams
Dr. Mike put his pen down. “Wren, no one is forcing you to come talk to me. If you feel that it would be appropriate to end your sessions—for the second time—then we can do that.”
I felt very claustrophobic all of the sudden, like the walls were closing in, but not just the walls in this office, this whole town. Its smallness, which I’d always liked, was now something that was trying to drown me, and I had to get out. I needed to get away, and suddenly, going to San Francisco seemed like an absolute necessity, not a choice.
This was a journey of firsts for me. I’d never been on a plane before, and the feeling during takeoff was both exhilarating and completely terrifying. I had the window seat, and I peered out of that little rectangle as the ground got further and further away, disappearing completely as the plane was enveloped in a cloud.
“Wow,” I breathed.
The woman next to me looked over. “First time on a plane?” she asked.
“That obvious?”
She smiled a little, an act that her face didn’t seem entirely comfortable making. “I don’t fly often, either,” she said. “The last time I flew, in fact, I was a young person. And I remember it being quite the novelty.”
“It is. But it’s also kind of strange, when you think about it.”
“I try not to. Because if I did, I’d probably have some sort of anxiety attack.”
I nodded, unsure of what else to say. She did not seem to be the sociable type of person who would just strike up a conversation with someone because they were sitting next to them, but I was also getting the feeling that she wanted to talk, too. Maybe it quelled the anxiety she had about flying.
I took the magazine out of my purse and started to flip through the pages.
“Do you live in San Francisco?” the woman asked.
I closed my magazine and smiled, pleased that she would mistake me for someone who lived in the city. Then I remembered what Lena had said, thinking that it was just a place for crazy artist types. I know I certainly didn’t look artistic, so did that mean I was looking a little crazy? I guess that wouldn’t be that surprising.
“No, I’m just going to visit,” I said. “Really, a much-needed vacation. I’ve never been there before. Are you? Going to visit?”
“Yes.” She pressed her lips together in a thin line, looking decidedly uncomfortable about the whole thing. I got the feeling that this was not any sort of vacation for her. I was going to go back to my magazine because it didn’t really seem like she wanted to continue the conversation, but then she suddenly said, “I’m going to visit my son. Who is living as a woman.”
“Oh,” I said.
“This is the first time I’ve seen him . . . her . . . in almost fifteen years. My husband refused to come, even though I know he misses him.”
“I think it’s good that you’re going out there, though,” I said. “I’m sure your son . . . er . . . daughter . . . I’m sure she will be happy to see you.”
The woman blanched at the pronoun, but took a deep breath and smoothed her short, graying hair down. “I appreciate your kind words. I’m trying to keep my expectations low. I know that probably sounds horrible, but I’ve found that if I lower my expectations—with all things, not just this—that I am disappointed far less. So, even if I go out there and he . . . she refuses to see me, or it goes horribly, or . . . I don’t know, something happens, even if that’s the case, I won’t be disappointed, because I’m not expecting it to be great.”
I nodded slowly, thinking about this. It honestly sounded depressing as hell, but maybe she was onto something.
“I wish you the best of luck,” I said. “I hope it exceeds your expectations.”
The woman smiled dryly. “It won’t take much for that to happen.”
I’d told Darren that I would take a taxi wherever I needed to once I landed, but he insisted on coming down there to pick me up.
“It’ll give me an excuse to get the car out of the garage,” he’d said.
It was quite a car. I’d been nervous that I might not recognize him, or that maybe he wouldn’t show up, but as I walked through the automatic sliding glass doors, pulling my little suitcase behind me like a dutiful pet, he was right there, sitting in the driver’s seat of a sleek-looking black BMW convertible. He waved.
“Hey!” he said, a big smile stretching across his face. “I would’ve come in to meet you, but they want us to keep moving!” He nodded in the direction of a police officer who was waving another car on. “I popped the trunk; just throw your bag in the back.”
I did as he said and then I went around to the passenger side. For a second I considered bypassing opening the door and just hopping over and in, but then I figured I’d end up failing spectacularly, so I opened the door and got in like a normal person would. Darren leaned over and hugged me with one arm.
“Great to see you,” he said. “And I’m really glad you still came out here. Even if it was supposed to be the two of you.”
I buckled my seatbelt. “Well, I appreciate you having me.”
He put the car in first and the car zipped off. It was probably the most luxurious car I’d ever been in and it felt more like we were hovering over the ground as we left the airport.
“Flight okay?” he asked.
“Yeah, it was decent.”
“I would’ve gotten you guys first class but I figured that would’ve made my brother more uncomfortable.”
“No, you’re already being more generous than you need to,” I said. “Besides, I had some interesting conversations.”
“I bet you did.” Darren smiled, then glanced at me. “So . . . what the eff happened with you two? I’m no serial monogamist by any stretch of the imagination, but you two made a really great couple! Anyone could see that.”
Just hearing those words made me want to cry, because I knew he was right, but I was not going to shed any more tears over this. It’s not like we’d even been together for that long. So what if we had earth-shattering sex? So what if I doubted I would ever feel toward anyone else what I felt toward him? I just needed to forget the whole thing. Maybe hanging out with his brother wasn’t the best way to go about doing this.
“It just . . . wasn’t meant to be,” I said, though I didn’t believe those words for a second. If Ollie and I weren’t meant to be, then I probably wasn’t meant to be with anyone. I’d end up being the crazy cat lady, married to her business. The future looked bleak.
But I wasn’t going to be able to wallow in my pity for long. We were on a stretch of freeway for a while, the hills golden, just like you’d expect them to be, water to my right, which Darren said was San Francisco Bay. Then, as we got closer to the city limits, I saw colorful houses built onto the hills in front of us, blues and bright pinks and mint green and sunshine yellow. It was like a colorful bouquet of flowers, except they were square, and just the sight of them made me smile. We went beneath an underpass and then another, and then I could see the skyscrapers to my right. The warm sun that had been out in full force when we’d left the airport was starting to give way to a cool, dense fog. It felt like a fifteen-degree difference, and my forearms were covered in goosebumps.
“Summer in San Francisco,” Darren said. “It’s been foggy for the past couple days, but it should be sunny tomorrow. A rare treat. So, we will definitely go out and enjoy it. I’ve been working so much lately, anyway, that I could really use a day to not really have an agenda and to just see where things take us. I do have a few places in mind, of course. But we can just take it easy for the rest of the day, if you want.”
“That sounds wonderful,” I said. “I think I need some R&R.”
“Well, you’ve come to the right place. I’ve got the guest room all set up, we can put some Enya on, burn some incense . . . whatever you want.”
I laughed. “Can you get me a full body massage with a really hot guy? That might help take my mind off things.”
“Absolutely, but he might not be into girls.”
&
nbsp; “I’m joking. That’s really the last thing I need. Well, the massage would be nice.”
Darren’s house did, in a way, feel like I was at some sort of exotic spa. There was a spotless marble foyer and high ceilings and lots of natural light. In the living room, a magenta orchid was on the glass-top coffee table. Expensive-looking paintings adorned the walls and the air inside smelled fresh and slightly sweet, like lavender.
“You want to just Netflix and chill?” he asked. “And I do mean that in the most literal way possible. You like Thai food? I’ve been craving some Thai lately.”
“Sounds great,” I said.
And if it was at all strange to be out here at my ex-boyfriend’s brother’s house, it didn’t feel that way in the least. Maybe it was because I was trying to have low expectations, but hanging out with Darren, watching bad movies, eating toodmon, red curry with sticky rice, and mama kee mao, straight from the cartons, was exactly what I needed.
Later that night, I lay in bed, happy that I was in a new place, getting to experience new things, but wishing that Ollie was there with me. This bed was certainly large enough. I stretched my arm out and felt the cool sheets next to me, tried to imagine him being there instead. What was he doing right now? He hadn’t tried to get in touch; he’d probably moved on, probably didn’t even think about me anymore. Guys could do that. Girls could too, though, and I was suddenly barraged with memories of all the times that I had hooked up with a guy only to not return his calls the next day. Some of the guys didn’t give a shit, but some of them had, especially those where our time together had actually gone rather well. None of that had mattered to me; I’d let them go all the same. I hadn’t bothered to think about how they felt. Clearly, what was happening now was karma.
What I should really do was go out there and sleep with a couple guys, remind myself that Ollie certainly wasn’t the only fish in the pond, that sex still felt great, whether or not I was having it with him.
I closed my eyes.
I ran my hands up and down my thighs, imagining they were his. If he were here right now, right here in bed with me, he’d be kissing my neck as he stroked my inner thighs, his touch warm and electrifying. I slid my hand up higher and then slipped it into my underwear, running my fingers through my pubes, making a mental note to trim them next time I got the chance (though what did it matter if I wasn’t going to be sleeping with anyone?). I started to rub myself, rolling my first two fingers over my clit, not touching it directly, but moving in a gentle, clockwise motion. My hand was smaller than Ollie’s, but I imagined it was his anyway as my thigh muscles tightened and relaxed and the juices started to flow. I brought my other hand up to my breast and squeezed, then pinched my nipple, hard enough to hurt but not too badly. It felt like some sort of energetic channel had opened up, located deep inside me, where the feeling was the strongest, but it was radiating outward, engulfing the rest of my body.
In my mind, he was right there, and I was climbing on top of him, sliding his dick into me, my breath catching in my throat as it happened. The way we fit so perfectly together, the firmness of his grip on my hips, the look on his face. He was so handsome. I could see his face, the look of exquisite pleasure, his eyes closed, top teeth biting into his lower lip. All because I was making him feel that way.
My breathing got faster and the feeling washed over me with increasing intensity. It was going to swallow me up, it was going to submerge me, I’d drown in it. I didn’t care; I wanted to. I wanted it to sweep me away. I pressed my lips together to keep from crying out as my whole body tensed, my toes curling, back arching high off the bed, the whole time Ollie’s face was there in my mind, as clear as if he were really right there next to me.
The next morning I woke up, for a second completely confused as to where I was. But then I remembered, and I settled back in the soft sheets, the down comforter like being enveloped in a fluffy cloud.
It was the smell of coffee that eventually roused me. In the kitchen, Darren was cracking eggs in a bowl.
“Good morning, sunshine,” he said. “I’m making breakfast.”
“Oh, you don’t have to do that,” I said. “I’ll just have some coffee—”
He gave me a stern look. “If you’re on the divorce diet, that’s going to stop right now. Don’t worry; this isn’t going to be anything crazy; just some eggs and croissants and coffee—of course—and then we’ll go out and do fun stuff. I’ve got the day off today, so I’m going to show you the town. Mugs are over in that cupboard,” he added.
I smiled. “That sounds lovely.” He was probably thinking that if he packed the day with enough stuff, I wouldn’t think about Ollie.
We spent the day walking around the city, taking Muni when we needed to cover a farther distance than we felt like walking. But mostly, I felt like walking because it was exhilarating to be somewhere new and to see things I’d never seen before.
It also made me start to think of what the possibilities might be like elsewhere.
We got some more coffee and croissants at a little French café in the Castro and then walked around. The fog had lifted and the sun was out and people were walking around in tank tops and shorts and sunglasses. The outdoor seating at every restaurant we passed was full, and handsome men walked hand-in-hand, talking, laughing, everyone giddy because of the plentiful sunshine.
Even if I had wanted to mope, I wouldn’t have been able to.
Around lunchtime, Darren took me to a gourmet deli and we got sandwiches, which we took over to Dolores Park, a sprawling green with an amazing view of downtown way off in the distance. People were parked on blankets and towels; it was like being at the beach, minus the water.
“This is great!” I said, stretching out on the warm grass, the sun beating down on me.
“Isn’t it? All we need is some beer and the day would be complete.”
We lounged there for a while, until I could feel the skin on my face tightening, the effects of a mild sunburn starting to take hold. I didn’t care; it felt too good.
“So, is there anything that you’d really like to do?” Darren asked. “We’ve seen a lot of cool stuff, but if there’s anything that you’re really dying to do, you should tell me and I can try to make it happen.”
“You know what I’d like?” I said. “I’d like to see the ocean. I’ve never seen the ocean before. In real life, that is.”
“Absolutely!” he said. “Though I hope you don’t mean to go swimming. That you’d have to do on your own.”
“No, I don’t think I’ll go swimming,” I said. “I just want to see it, dip my toes in, maybe.”
“Well, we have two choices. We can go back to my place and get the car, or we can walk over to Duboce and Noe and hop the N to Ocean Beach.”
“I’m quite enjoying taking public transportation,” I said. “So, why don’t we do that?”
“Sounds like a plan. Though I will warn you—there’s a good chance the sun will be completely gone once we’re out at the beach. That’s just how it is out here.”
We got up, stretching, and left the park, walking over to where we’d catch Muni out to the beach. While we waited, I started thinking about the restaurant.
“I’m just going to give them a call and see how it’s going,” I said, digging through my purse for the phone. I wasn’t going to admit it, but there was a teeny tiny part of me that hoped Lena would tell me that Ollie had stopped by looking for me.
“Good afternoon, Ollie’s, this is Lena,” she said when she picked up.
“Lena! Hey! It’s me,” I said. “How’s everything going?”
“Wren! Hi! So good to hear from you. We’re good! Holding the fort down. We were pretty busy this morning but things are starting to slow down now. How are you?” No mention of Ollie.
“I’m good,” I said. “I’m glad to hear things are going so smoothly.”
“Yeah, they are. I know you were probably a little nervous leaving the place, but you have nothing to worry about. We miss
you, of course. But things are going really well.”
“That’s great. You know, I might as well just stay out here and not even bother to come back—oh, shit, our train is here. Okay, Lena, I’ll talk to you soon!” I hung up and tossed the phone into my purse.
When we got to the beach, Darren was right: the sun was mostly obscured by a blanket of fog that was trying to roll in, and there was a cool breeze that blew my hair back away from my face. It felt like a completely different climate than the one we’d just left at the park. I took my shoes and socks off and stood in the sand, feeling it between my toes. There were a few people walking the shore, and there were seagulls flying around, their cries sounding almost like some sort of demented laughter.
“Here it is,” Darren said.
“It’s so big.” Maybe an obvious thing to say, but it was. I’d seen land that had stretched as far as the eye could see, but I’d never seen water. The horizon line was a distant blur obscured by the fog, but even still, you could sense the vastness. “I’m going to stick my feet in,” I said.
“Just be careful,” Darren told me. “This beach is known for its strong currents.”
“I won’t go far,” I called out over my shoulder as I walked down to the water. The waves had frothy whitecaps, the water a bluish gray. The wet sand was cool and compact, and I stood there at the water’s edge, waiting for a wave to roll up far enough to get my toes wet.
It wasn’t as cold as I was expecting it to be. It was cold, yes, but not freezing, and I took a step, then another, closer. I pulled the bottoms of my pants up so the water could rush around my ankles without soaking the fabric. A big wave broke though, the spray soaking me. My breath caught in my throat and then I was laughing, because it felt good. Refreshing and cold like it was washing away something I hadn’t realized I needed to be rid of. Without thinking, I dove headfirst into the next wave, the power of it pushing me back, but my momentum enough that I broke through, the water swallowing me up.
