Unplugged II: Unplugged, #2

by Sigal Ehrlich

  I look out the round window at the endless night sky and inwardly chuckle, thinking about Ivi literally falling on her sweet ass when I finally told I loved her. I should have told her that ages ago, back when I realized she was it for me. That night when she left, when I was lying in my bed struggling to understand what came over me. Trying to figure out how to handle this feeling of losing the best thing that has ever happened to me. At the time, it was like a punch to the gut, the terrifying acknowledgment that I couldn’t control whatever was happening, something that if I’m being honest, I wasn’t used to.

  It’s ridiculous how easy it is to sort out most things when you have the means and know the right people. Or hell, just by being famous. At times people will get the fucking moon from the sky for me. The best of everything? You got it. A resident visa for your girlfriend? You got it. But it’s the crucial things that you can’t control. It’s the most important things that can’t be fixed by a phone call or a capable manager.

  I knew Ivi had strong feelings for me, it wasn’t a surprise when she told me she loved me too, but hearing it — Christ, what an overwhelming feeling. Felt like I was on top of the world.

  Ivi snuggles closely to me, letting out a sleepy, content sigh. My chest expands with such adoration, I have half a mind to wake her up and kiss her with everything she prompts in me, and more. I check out the time. We still have a couple of hours till we land. I can’t wait to see her reaction when she realizes where we’re going. I decided to take a detour on our way back, visit Estonia for Ivi to see her parents and friends. A decision that had Eli shitting bricks over the things I have planned for the next week that he’ll have to cancel and deal with the consequences of. Fuck that, let him deal, he can manage. My lips tip in amusement. He should be grateful for the quiet time he has had so far concerning me. I’ve been a damn boy scouts poster boy since Miss Sleepyhead on my lap came along.

  “Research has shown that reality shows have an impact on the values of young girls and how they view real—life situations.”

  An article Ivi skimmed through with her morning tea that made her frown with irritation.

  “Talk about stress, I’ve only two years to decide on my future, that’s insanity,” Jeremy says to the wide TV he’s currently zoomed in on, titling his body as he presses on the black controller in his hand, making his character load a gun or whatever that was.

  Biting on her lip, holding a similar controller, Amelie commands Jeremy, “Left. To the base on the left.”

  Following Amelie’s character, eyes glued to the action on the screen, Jeremy adds, “But no worries I already know what I want to be.” His smarty grin blooms. “Of course.”

  From the sofa by the window, where I’m enthusiastically knitting Jeremy a pair of wooly socks, I ask, “Yeah, Jer, what is it?” Given the jet leg and the physical exertion of the past month, I decided to simply chill upon our return. Maybe it isn’t just physical exertion, maybe it’s physical exertion with a side of emotional overload. Visiting home was a dream, especially with Tyler, but leaving my parents again was even more difficult than the last time. When I first left it was for a limited time, this time I left with the knowledge that my original home is no longer my home. Both a pleasant and a sad notion.

  “Biochemistry and molecular biology.” The intonation in which Jeremy tells me his future educational preference sounds like an eye roll where a duh should conclude his answer. Because, of course, what preteen doesn’t know with such confidence that biochemistry and molecular biology is his future. “Chase them, Em! They’re getting away.” Jeremy directs his fellow Fortnight solider.

  I tug on the yarn and resume knitting. “What about you, Amelie, any grand plans for the future.”

  Amelie turns to me with a wide grin.

  “Dude — ” Jeremy gestures at the screen, “What are you doing?”

  Amelie shakes her head, turns back to the game, effortlessly shoots two opponents and turns back to me with that keen smile. “Easy, I want to be you when I grow up.”

  Startled and pleasantly surprised by her response, I mirror her smile. “Wow, what an honor. What do you mean by that, you want to pursue a volunteering career?”

  Amelie lets out a soft chuckle. At this point both kids have left the game and are both turned my way. “No,” she giggles. “I want to be as beautiful as you and find me a famous guy like Tyler Lee and be his girlfriend.”

  The wind? Feels like it’s been knocked out of me with a blow of a twenty-pound sledgehammer. “What?” I can’t disguise my disappointment, nor the cringe at the thought that this is how she sees me. Not to mention the fact that in one casual statement she managed to bring out of the shadow my greatest fear of Tyler’s and my relationship, the fear of losing myself. Wow. Wow, I can’t believe this. I’m reeling but try to contain myself before lashing out at the poor girl that has her conception of me entirely twisted. This is how I’m portrayed to people? God.

  I set the needles on the end table and readjust to give Amelie my full attention, but before I’m able to thread in a word, Mr. Research Extraordinaire chirps in, “Did you know that being unemployed can be harmful? I read somewhere that it can lead to depression and in some cases even change your personality completely.” Jeremy’s eyes travel from Amelie to me. He looks a bit uncomfortable seeming to read by my expression that I’m not entirely full of joy. “And it can . . . ” his words fade out. He swallows noticeably, brows wrinkled.

  “Listen Amelie, I — ” Suddenly, I’m not so sure how to “defend” myself and feminism in general. I’m a little lost for words. Not sure what I can show for myself, really. Somewhat horrifyingly, I can see it clearly now, how I may look from the girl’s point of view. I don’t have what one might call a “real job.” I’ve left my home and family for a famous guy. She always sees me at home, Tyler’s home. I’m a kept woman! I feel a little sick.

  “There’s much more to life than finding a partner. You need to study. You need to fulfil your dreams. You need to try things and make a mess out of them, then fix them and grow. I may not be officially employed — ” another cringe rears its head. “But, up until recently I worked as a nanny, as you know. Other than that, most of my free time and energy had been and still are dedicated to volunteering.”

  Amelie’s smile takes a quizzical quality. “But aren’t you in love with Tyler? Aren’t you truly happy? You guys are my couple goal.”

  Couple goal at twelfth? I swear, I feel so old. “I love Tyler, and yes I’m very happy to be in a relationship with him, but that doesn’t mean that I don’t need anything else besides that.” Understatement of the century. “My relationship doesn’t define me.”

  “Amelie honey, your mom is here,” Adina calls from the kitchen.

  As if we didn’t just have a meaningful conversation, and as if she didn’t just unpeel a painful wound, and as if she didn’t just throw me into an internal self-deprecating loop, cheerfully, Amelie rises to stand. “See you on Sunday?” She asks Jeremy nonchalantly. Jeremy replies, “Yeah, sure” demonstrating just how close these two best buddies have become, a little after Jeremy stopped drooling every time Amelie breathed.

  Nonchalantly she walks over to me and gives me a hug. “I still think that you’re the luckiest woman in the world.” And off she goes with a carefree gait.

  “You okay, babe?” Tyler whispers to my ear, leaving a soft kiss at my temple.

  I nod, indulging in the feel of his strong arms around me. I’m lounged between his legs, facing the rest of the gang scattered on the adjacent couches. I’m having a pleasant time hanging with Tyler’s friends, glad to shut off the nagging feeling that’s been pestering my thoughts throughout the day. Amelie’s words still burned in my mind. Not to mention the snowball of doubts they managed to evoke.

  Footsteps coming from the main hall have me avert my attention from Max and Killer’s banter. Jay saunters our way in jean overalls and a white Henley. I smile at him.

  “Hugsy Wugsy.” He taps Tyler
’s nose with a ridiculing grin. “Missed your cutesy smile.”

  “Couldn’t stop thinking about you all the time I was away, Sugarpuss,” Tyler says flatly.

  Jay grins at me as I stand to greet him with a hug. “How was visiting home?”

  “Perfect,” I return.

  Killer and Jay do this chin tip men greet thing. “Anyone want anything from the kitchen?” Jay says over his shoulder en route to get a drink.

  “Do you think life smokes a cigarette after fucking you up?”

  I can’t help but shake my head and grin at Max’s question.

  “What did life ever do to you? Pharmacy out of Xanax?” Killer deadpans.

  Max scratches his scruff, grazing his lips with his teeth. “The other day, this chick was going down on m — ”

  “Dude.” Tyler raises his hand in a “spare us please” gesture. “We’re good, let’s not take it apart right now.”

  “See,” Killer says, nodding a thanks to Jay who just handed him a beer. He returns his attention to Max. “If you were in a relationship you would avoid all this shit.” Killer takes a long drag of his bottle. “Grow up, man.”

  “I can’t adult.” Max shivers with horror. “This is the real disease of the twenty-first century — giving up the joy of life for the sake of settling down. It’s unhealthy and unnatural. Little by little it takes pieces of you. Eats you up.”

  “That so?” Jay grins. “Glad I’m free as a butterfly.” They high five in solidarity.

  “Wait till your junk falls off from whatever you catch next,” Killer goes on. “Or your tongue.”

  “I can’t believe this is still going on,” Tyler says over a sigh.

  “Speaking of tongues, anyone tried those Tungdoms?” Max looks around, brows raised as if everyone is ready to sink into a deep conversation about the subject.

  By Max’s expression I can only guess that Tyler just gave him a reprimanding stare. However, Max immediately recovers and lets out into the air the following pearls of wisdom, “You don’t need to worry about your tongue anymore, ah Sir Adams? You got your woman, and it doesn’t seem like she’s going anywhere.”

  I’m not even sure how I’m supposed to feel about that.

  “Ah, Ivs?” Max turns to me. “You’ve got a new role in life. Tyler’s girl.” And he goes on, “Come to think of it, maybe there are some advantages to settling down. You’re certainly doing a stellar job of shifting the throngs of wonderful women our way. Way to go Mary Poppins, great job!” Max grins. “Oh, fuck! Can’t wait for you to join us on tour! It’ll be the bomb to have a mother figure on tour. But I need to warn you, Ivs, don’t try to go all momma on me, let me go on my sinful path. Close your eyes when the fangirling wave comes to attack.”

  I frown. “As truly marvellous as it sounds, I just need to ask, what gave you the impression that I’ll be joining you guys on tour?”

  “C’mon, almost Mrs. Adams, your destiny was rendered the moment you were claimed by Mr. Adams.”

  I gape at him. What’s going on with people today? And a beat later, I lash out. “First off, when we get married, I won’t change my name!” Realising what flew out of my mouth in the heat of the moment, my face catches on fire. Sometimes I wish the things that came out of my mouth were a little more intellectually sensible. “I mean.” I gulp. “Not that I’m under any assumption, or considering, us, umm . . . I — I just wanted to state a point.” I couldn’t be more grateful for not being able to meet Tyler’s eyes. Tyler, who’d stiffened behind me. Opting to stir away from the matrimonial elephant I just dropped in the middle of the room, I say, “Max, you know I do have a life besides hanging with you guys, right?”

  “He’s just being his usual dumbass self,” Tyler causally says, seeming, or pretending to not take issue with my verbal diarrhoea or the subject that’s about to make me explode.

  Max reads something on his phone, grins widely like he’s found a treasure and rises to his feet. His grin grows as he towers over me, peeking again at his phone, as if reading a script. “Repeat after me,” he tells me next, another glance at the phone. “I, beautiful miss Ivi Kert, do solemnly swear and pledge my sword to Tyler Lee Adams and his band as my liege, to defend and obey them until they depart their demesnes or death shall take me, and to uphold the honor of groupiehood.” Concluding this nonsense, he stretches his arm to mimic a sword as he hovers it over my shoulder and head. Tyler, finding it amusing, chuckles lightly. Jay follows suit. Max, utterly pleased with himself, declares, “Arise, Miss Groupie Number One.”

  “Okay enough, cut this shit, Max,” Tyler says still utterly amused.

  Any other day, I might have cracked a smile or even joined the hilarity, but not today. Today all I want to do is give him a piece of my mind, or punch him. But I don’t. What good would it do to scold him? It would only prove that I am Mary Poppins after all.

  “ . . . the study suggests these results go hand-in-hand: women are more likely to see their careers and personal welfare take a backseat to those of their partners.”

  The morning news blaring along to the sound of a boiling kettle.

  Tyler’s girlfriend. Tyler’s house. Tyler’s friends. Tyler’s kid. Tyler’s tempo. Where is Ivi in all of this?

  “Here you go, dear,” Adina says in a gentle voice, handing me fresh toast together with a concerned glance. She stealthily makes herself scarce right after.

  My blank stare falls on my untouched cup of coffee; a whole moment passes till I realize that the toast I’ve dropped in the toaster some time ago is now lying on a plate blackened. I was so caught up in my own head that I didn’t even noticed Adina remove the burned slice and toast a new one for me. Snippets of last night keep flashing in my mind like a fast-paced movie. “Find me a famous person like Tyler and be his stay at home girlfriend.” The little chat with Amelie that started it off. “You’ve got a new role in life. Tyler’s girl.” Max adding the last drop of fuel to bring the fire burning in me to a monstrous blaze. Excusing myself early. Pretending to fall asleep when Tyler got into bed, a task that got harder when he spooned me and gently kissed my head. Getting up to call Chris when I couldn’t lay there anymore with the conflicting emotions battling in my gut. How Tyler’s soft breathing as I got out of bed lit my determination to do something about it.

  “Chris, remember that job you mentioned the last time we spoke, something about a coordinator for YWPO?”

  “Yeah, a project coordinator. Funny you should mention it. I’ve been meaning to talk to you about it. You still interested?”

  “Yes.” I couldn’t have sounded more resolved.

  “We’re looking to man the position in a few weeks. As it happens, the management is meeting in Vegas next Tuesday. Do you think you could make it? You know, it’s better to have everyone interviewing, meeting you in person at the same time than video call interviews and the headache of coordinating it all.”

  “Sure. I can do that.”

  “I’ll email you the details later today.” There’s a pause. “I thought your relationship was going well. You just came back from Nepal. It was all over the media.” He clears his throat. “Sure you’re ready to leave?”

  “It’s going well.” This time my words come out a bit less determined.

  “Good to hear.” There’s clearly still an unanswered question hanging in the air, but Chris doesn’t probe any further. A gesture that on the one hand is welcomed and appreciated, but on the other, perhaps I should have consulted with someone, or just vented out what’s been bothering me. But it feels a bit unfair to do it with Chris when the person I should be discussing it with is Tyler.

  That was last night. That, and then there was my foolish avoidance of Tyler. Not that he did anything wrong, it was just me being a complete coward. Too hesitant to broach my fresh decision with him. That eventually led to a sleepless night and a morning full of uncertainties.

  Spreading butter on my toast, I try to explore what I’m really feeling. It was a concern of mine right fr
om the moment I knew I was coming back, the ambiguity of what I was coming back to, besides Tyler. I couldn’t be more sure about how much I love him and want to be with him. There’s zero doubt there. But I’m not less convinced that I need to find my thing — apart from him. Something for myself. I never even entertained the idea of not doing something with myself. Something valuable and meaningful. Something that would fulfil me. Nor did I ever plan to lose myself in a man. In a way, I feel like I’m walking around in constant yellow warning, like something will happen and I might lose it all, the things I have and the ones I don’t, yet.

  By the time evening falls and Tyler enters the living room’s threshold, I’m determined to go ahead with my plan. Time to woman up and do the right thing. Communicate. The real true essence of any healthy relationship is communication. Okay, communication and sex.

  “Hey you,” I give him a genuine smile, because no matter what’s troubling me, every time we’re apart I miss him.

  Tyler’s lips stretch into a glorious smile. He doesn’t greet me back, instead he closes the distance between us quicker than I can say God you look delicious and lifts me into a kiss-hug duo of awesome proportions. A greeting that has me panting a little.

  “Fucking missed you,” he says, leaving my lips only to nuzzle my collarbone. “Coming home to you is the best part of my day.”

  I swallow hard with the message I’m about to deliver sitting like lead in my stomach. Then, almost artfully, Tyler makes me forget my resolve with his lips on my skin and his hard body against mine. “Adina’s left?” He rasps while sliding his hand into the back of my jeans.

  “Ye—s,” comes out breathy. So are my next words as Tyler drops us onto the nearest couch and drops to his knees. A beat later, I’m freed of my pants. A moan later, my panties are shoved to the side and I gasp. Everything fades away. I want to watch. I want to see the magnificent vision of Tyler’s concentrated, heated face as he gives me pleasure. I lean on my elbows and drink him up with my eyes. Fire travels along the length of my skin. I am throbbing with an almost painful, delightful sensation. I’m panting and trembling, it’s nearly too wonderfully much. I quiver, dropping my head back, my eyes tightly shut as I cry out his name. I’m thankful we’re alone in the house because I’m pretty sure my chants of ecstasy can be heard through the roof. I fall apart only to reach so high again when Tyler thrusts into me and chases his own release.