Lost to Light

by Jamie Bennett

  “Anya?” I called into the bathroom. There were two women in the corner who I assumed were getting high. It reminded me of high school.

  She came out of a stall. “Here.”

  “How are you?”

  “Mauricio doesn’t understand how I feel about Barney. He’s not just a dog. He’s everything to me!”

  “Maybe Mauricio is jealous,” I said. “That you love something, I mean, someone else that much.”

  Anya stared at me. “Mauricio wouldn’t be jealous. That would mean he had to care about me. He doesn’t.”

  “Oh. I’m sorry.”

  She ran a paper towel under the water and dabbed at her eyes. “It’s ok. It’s not that kind of relationship. I make him look good, and he pays for things.” She shrugged. “It’s kind of fun, when I’m in town. I don’t mind him.”

  It sounded awful and I tried not to show that in my expression.

  “What about you and Iván?” she asked me.

  “We’re friends.”

  Anya burst out laughing. “Friends! Sure, Iván has been ‘friends’ with lots of women. He was a good friend to me a year ago in Paris. We were friends three times in one night!” She smiled at me. “Is my makeup ok?”

  I swallowed hard. “You look beautiful.”

  “You can’t tell I’ve been crying?”

  I shook my head. Anya smiled again and went out and the women in the corner left too. I looked in the mirror at myself in my dress, now thinking it looked like I was going to the prom or something. All I needed was a corsage. I put on some lipstick but it didn’t seem to help. I ran my hand over my stomach and thought back to having to buy tampons and when I’d last had cramps. I told myself I was being silly.

  I went back to the table, where Iván was engaged in conversation with the woman on his other side and Mauricio and Anya appeared to be fighting quietly. I took my old seat across the table and tried to eat the second course, which I thought was fish. Maybe. Iván raised his eyebrows at me and I smiled at him, nodding as if I was fine. Which I was.

  The dinner lasted forever, then it seemed that everyone at the table was heading somewhere else together. “Do you want to go?” Iván asked me.

  “It’s a little late,” I said, feeling like I was his mother. “Go ahead, I can get home on my own.”

  “No,” he said slowly, “I’m tired too. Very tired. It was a real workout this morning in the pool.” I slapped him lightly on the stomach and he held my hand there and put his other arm around me. “We’re heading home,” he told the crowd. The woman who had kissed him on the lips when we walked in came up for more, but I shook my head at her. None of that, now.

  We waited for the car and I was freezing in the damp San Francisco air. I was fully an LA girl. Iván put both arms around me and pulled my back to his chest. “You’re shaking like you did in the water,” he said, yawned, and rested his chin on my head.

  I twisted up to look at him. “You really do seem tired. Were you out late last night too?”

  He shrugged. “I’m getting old, I suppose.”

  “I don’t want you to have to drive me all the way home and back here.”

  “I don’t want you to go back to that apartment again. I hate leaving you in that neighborhood.”

  I hadn’t told him about the burglaries in the building or the new group of prostitutes that had taken up residence on the corner at night. “It’s fine. I won’t be there that much longer.” I still hadn’t found a place I could afford to rent, however, that was any nicer.

  “I think I am too tired to drive,” Iván announced. “Maybe you could come and sleep at my apartment. I have two bedrooms,” he explained quickly.

  My heart had started to beat harder.

  “I have to be at practice early tomorrow morning. No vacation for the swimmers. I can drop you off then.”

  I nodded slowly, my eyes on the street in front of us. “Yeah, ok. Thank you.”

  We were mostly quiet on the way to his house. When we pulled up to drive down into an underground parking garage, I started to get nervous. “Hey, can you just let me off here? I’ll wait outside.” He glanced over at me. I swallowed.

  “Wait right at the entrance to the garage, Maura. I’ll be right there.” It wasn’t too long before I heard him jogging up the ramp to me.

  “Iván, what floor do you live on?” I asked as we went into the building.

  “The sixteenth floor.” He paused. “Maybe this could be a day of facing your fears. You could ride up in the elevator. I swear they’re safe.”

  I was already shaking my head no. “I’ll just meet you up at your place.”

  “Maura.” We had stopped in front of the elevators and he took my hands, tugging me toward the door. “Sixteen floors? You’re going to walk up all that way?”

  I pulled away from him. “I’ll meet you up there. No!” I held up my hand as he started to follow me. “You take the elevator. I’ll meet you up there!”

  Sixteen floors, in high heels, was a very, very long way to walk up, as it turned out. It took me a long time, and the whole time I was climbing, I was thinking that I was going to sleep with Iván Marrero.

  I meant, sleep over with Iván Marrero. Slip of the tongue.

  Chapter 6

  Iván’s door was open, so I walked in. “Hello?”

  He came out of what had to have been his kitchen, holding a glass of water. “You must be thirsty after your climb.”

  Mostly I was thinking about my feet. I had ditched the heels after the fourth floor but they were killing me. “Thank you.”

  Iván’s apartment was beautiful. I limped into the living room and looked out at the view of the Bay Bridge. It was a huge space, too, and unlike the places I had lived myself, full of furniture that looked sturdy and expensive and did not consist of crates or other repurposed materials. “This is really nice,” I told him. “I like your apartment.”

  “It’s just a little too high.”

  “Yeah,” I said weakly, and sat down in a chair to rub my feet.

  He sat across from me. “Can you tell me why you don’t want to go in the elevator? Or the parking garage, or the BART?”

  “It’s just one of those silly things. Like you said your friend was afraid of flying.”

  “No reason?”

  I looked at my feet. “No reason.”

  Iván was nodding. In the half-darkness, his brown eyes looked almost luminous. “You don’t have to tell me. Maybe someday.”

  Maybe.

  “Are you tired? Do you want to go to bed?” he asked.

  “Um, sure.” I jumped up and my stomach flipped like I was on a roller coaster. “I mean, not really.”

  “Good, because I have an idea.” He held out his hand, and as I always did, I took it without hesitating. He led me through his bedroom with a giant, giant bed into an equally giant bathroom. A gleaming bathroom with a shower with four heads and nozzle things and a bathtub that I could have slept in. Or probably lived in, pretty happily. There was enough space for me and a few roommates.

  “You said you went under water in the bath, right?” He reached over and turned on a tap and the tub started to fill rapidly.

  “Yes, a long time ago when I took baths. Wait. You want me to take a bath? Now?”

  “I’ll get in with you.” He pulled his shirt over his head, and my jaw dropped.

  “Wait a minute. Hold on!”

  “I’ll put on a bathing suit,” he suggested.

  “But I don’t have one!”

  Iván strolled out, shirtless, and came back in with a t-shirt and a pair of old boxer shorts. I hadn’t pegged him as a boxer guy. “You can wear this. You’ll be totally covered.”

  “Iván. No.”

  “You have to learn to go under. This is a good way. Go ahead and change and call me when you’re ready.” He strolled out again, closing the door behind him.

  For a moment I just looked at the door. I sat down on the edge of the tub and turned to look at the wate
r. Then I opened the drain and washed off my dirty feet from the stairs climb. The water was just pouring out now, wasted. I picked up the clothes he had left for me.

  I closed the drain so the tub began to fill again and carefully took off my dress, hanging it over a towel bar. I put my bra underneath the dress. Then I put on Iván’s clothes over my underwear. “Come in,” I called.

  Iván was wearing another of those tiny bathing suits. He was completely comfortable—but really, he had no reason not to be. I found myself studying his butt when he bent to turn off the water. Just…wow.

  “R-r-ready?” He trilled the R, just how I liked it. He knew that I did. “¿Lista? Venga, tía. Get in.”

  Carefully I stepped into the tub and lowered myself into the water, then Iván did also, a lot less carefully. We faced each other.

  “Slide down as far as you’re comfortable,” he instructed me.

  I nodded and started to submerge, watching Iván the whole time. When the water reached my chin, I started coughing and pushed myself back up. I looked at Iván a little fearfully.

  But he smiled. “Good! That was good.”

  I pulled my lip with my teeth. “I didn’t go under.”

  “Not yet.” He picked up my foot and started to rub it. My eyes nearly rolled back in pleasure. “Your shoes were bad?”

  “They were fine until I came up the steps. I had no idea you lived on the top…” His thumbs dug in and I lost my train of thought. He rested that foot on his chest and picked up the other. I was putty in his lovely, massaging fingers. I would have done anything he asked.

  Iván put my feet back onto the bottom of the tub. “Here. Try this.” He lay on his back in the water, ears under, with only his face above the surface. “I love floating like this,” he said. “It’s so quiet. This is how I like to think.”

  I watched his face. He did seem totally at peace. Iván sat up and I took a deep breath. I tried to lean back rather than submerging, holding onto the edge of the tub. As soon as my hair got wet and heavy, dragging me down, I jerked myself back up. “No, that won’t work.”

  “Here.” He scooted around the tub, squeaking against the bottom, until he was next to me. “I’ll hold you.” He put his hand up around the back of my head, cradling it. “Lean back.”

  Slowly I leaned, letting his hand and strong arm take the weight of my head. I locked my eyes on his, and he smiled. “Good,” he said softly. “I have you.”

  “Don’t hold me under,” I blurted out, and the look on his face was so horrified and stunned that I said, “I take it back. I know you won’t.” I leaned back more and my hair fanned out in the water. Iván touched it with his other hand, playing with the strands. My ears went under and I jolted a little.

  “No, no, está bien,” he kind of crooned. He kept talking to me in Spanish. I closed my eyes and took a big breath and my face went under. It was quiet.

  Almost immediately Iván raised me back up. “Maura, you did it. See?”

  He was smiling hugely and I smiled back, and wiped the water off my eyes. “I did it,” I repeated. Then I laughed. “You must be the most patient man on the planet, to sit in a bathtub with me at two in the morning so I can put my face under the water.”

  “No one who knows me would believe you if you said I was patient. What I am is stubborn. I don’t give up, if it’s something I want.” Iván looked at me steadily. Then his eyes dropped down and mine did too. I saw the wet t-shirt clinging to my breasts, and my nipples pebbled under it. I looked back up and his eyes were on my face.

  “Iván—”

  He stood up, water streaming off him. “I’ll put some dry clothes for you in the bedroom. You can shower in here if you want, dry off, get dressed. There are extra toothbrushes in this drawer.” He pulled it open. “Sleep in this bedroom. I’ll see you in the morning.”

  Without looking at me again, he wrapped a towel around his waist and closed the bathroom door.

  I woke up the next morning pretty confused. I was in a huge bed with crisp, clean sheets and a comfortable mattress, rather than on a lumpy couch covered in an old blanket where I usually slept to be closer to the door in case of emergency at Mikey’s apartment. There were faint noises of traffic, not the incessant blaring of horns and (sometimes, very scarily) gunshots. Plus, I could smell a faint aroma of coffee.

  I sat up straight. I was in Iván’s bed. In Iván’s apartment, on the 16th floor above San Francisco. The night before, I had taken a shower and used some of the delicious smelling liquid from the many expensive-looking bottles of shampoo and conditioner and bodywash. I had put on another of his t-shirts and more boxer shorts to sleep in, washed out my underwear and hung it up to dry in the bathroom, and used one of his stash of new, wrapped toothbrushes. I had briefly wondered why he needed so many of them, but then had the unhappy realization that Iván had a lot of unplanned, overnight guests who wanted to brush their teeth.

  I could hear water running somewhere in the apartment and assumed Iván was getting dressed. I did the best I could with myself, twisting my hair into a big bun which I secured with a pencil from the top of his dresser and splashing cold water on my face. I put on the still-damp underwear and my dress from last night, feeling grungy and gross. I needed to wear something over it, so I walked into Iván’s closet. It was bigger than the bedroom in my old apartment with Robin. The clothes were all neatly hung, sorted by color and type. I ran my hand across the sleeves, making them ripple. The whole room smelled like Iván. I took the plainest jacket-type thing I could find to wear over my dress. Oh, glory. It was by a designer I had only read about. I put it on and resolved to get nothing on it, not even a drop of water. Then I steeled myself and went out into the living room.

  The apartment looked even nicer in the grey San Francisco morning light. Iván was at the table now, eating out of a big bowl with an enormous mug next to it. He smiled at me, looking fresh as a daisy. “La bella durmiente,” he commented. “You’re finally up.” He gestured at his food. “Breakfast? Coffee?”

  I shook my head and slid into a chair.

  “Are you quiet in the morning?”

  I cleared my throat. “Not usually. I guess I’m tired.” And really, really uncomfortable.

  Iván didn’t seem to feel the same way. “Ok, then are you ready to go? I need to get to the pool and I know you don’t like it when I drive fast.”

  We both took the stairs down, with me carrying my high heels. Then I waited in the lobby for him to get the car. About a million people were out and about, walking to the elevators and checking their mailboxes and going God-knew-where at eight on a Saturday morning. I got a lot of stares with my fancy dress peeking out from under Iván’s massive jacket. Weren’t people supposed to be jaded and self-absorbed in the city? My cheeks burned and I looked straight ahead at the street.

  Iván did drive somewhat slowly across the Bay Bridge. “Still quiet,” he said to me, touching my knee briefly.

  “I was thinking about last night. I mean, about your friends at that dinner,” I quickly clarified.

  “More like acquaintances.”

  “Do you like them?” I asked. “Honestly, do you?”

  He shrugged. “I suppose. Some of them are interesting. The guy who was sitting next to you created Blazer, that game everyone plays.”

  “Are you serious? Benji loves Blazer! I wish I had known. Or I wish he hadn’t passed out so fast and I could have talked to him about it.” I tugged on the zipper of his jacket. “I saw you pick up the tab for everyone.”

  He shrugged again.

  “That didn’t seem fair. The Blazer guy must be rolling in it, and it doesn’t sound like Anya does too badly. Although most of her income seems to go to that poor dog.”

  “Por Dios, I’ve heard about that dying dog since I met her.”

  I remembered what she said about how they had been “friends” before. Three times in one night, she had mentioned. “You met her in Paris? She told me about it.” Then I wished I could have
taken the words back. It was none of my business. My mind flashed to the image of all those toothbrushes in his bathroom cabinet.

  He glanced at me. “I think it was Paris. I don’t remember. She’s been with Mauricio for a while now.”

  I nodded and looked out the window. “Well, I don’t think it’s fair for you to have to pay for everybody. That’s not right. But thank you for paying for me.”

  “I got the feeling that you didn’t really enjoy it.”

  “Maybe they’re just not my crowd,” I suggested. I turned to look at him. “What are you doing for Thanksgiving? Are you flying home?” He had taken a few random weekends to do that, just jetting in and out of Spain, but it was a long way and he had come back exhausted.

  “I can’t. I’m running the practices over the break so the head coach can be with family in Colorado. His daughter just had a baby.”

  A baby. I touched my stomach. No. “That’s nice.” The words came out sounding funny and I coughed. “Do you want to come with me to Joana’s for the dinner? I’m sure she wouldn’t mind.” In fact, I was sure she would love it. She had been trying to get more information about what might be happening between me and Iván since I told her and Benji a little about him over dinner one night. “It’s going to be a Brazilian Thanksgiving and she’s having a ton of people. It should be fun.”

  “Sure, if you’re positive she wouldn’t mind.” His hand came over to my knee again, touching me lightly. “You and I are going swimming over the break.”

  “I’m really looking forward to it.”

  Iván laughed.

  I decided to bring flowers after all to Joana’s daughter’s house on Thanksgiving. Mikey’s refrigerator was getting increasingly warmer no matter how far I turned down the temperature, which I did not consider a positive sign for food safety. Iván was picking me up, since I was on the way to her house. We had gone swimming the day before, and I had managed to (briefly) put my face in the water. He said he had never seen anyone progress so quickly, which was an absolute lie. Then the team had started to show up and stare and watch us and I had taken off like a shot.