by Lisa Loomis
“Committed? Look who’s talking, who’s the one not committing here?” he asked angrily, which ended the conversation.
I had no comeback for him. The last night at the beach, we took a long walk. The sun was low in the sky, the light reflecting off the water in beautiful shades of red and orange. We walked in silence, listening to the ocean, me bending down to pick up rocks and sea glass as I spotted them. He got ahead of me several times as I dallied, and I would hurry to catch up to him. I could see his blond hair blowing in the breeze; he had grown it back out. Not like the band-long, just to his shoulders. I liked it. He reached his hand out for me as I approached, and he laced his fingers in mine.
“Let’s head back,” he said.
We walked with the water lapping at our feet, waves coming in and then retreating. I tried to dissect my indecision to be with him. At that moment, I couldn’t find any. I wanted to make the right decision because it was a major decision, a life altering, adult decision, whether we worked out or not. We left the next day for the Hyatt.
“I need to make a stop on the way,” Mathew said.
“What for?” I asked.
“I need to pick up a package from this guy,” he said.
Once we were back in San Jose, he drove to an apartment complex and he parked in front. The buildings were a tan stucco color with carports that ran down the sides in the parking lot. The landscaping looked like it needed a good trimming and the building themselves were a bit tired looking.
“Wait here. I’ll just be a minute.”
“Okay, leave the radio on,” I said.
He turned the key part way and the radio came back on. I watched him walk to the back of the complex and then go right until I couldn’t see him anymore. I hummed with the radio, looking forward to the room at the Hyatt and suddenly not happy about having to go home. He was back pretty quickly with what looked like a small box. He put it in the trunk.
“Next stop, the Hyatt,” he said.
That night we stayed in the room and watched movies, old movies. We’d picked up some wine and each had a glass as we snuggled on the couch. It seemed so couplish, another thing that was still foreign to me. He checked the clock a couple of times and at eight he made a phone call. His conversation was low and the TV didn’t allow me to hear any of it. He said that Bob was coming by real quick.
“Not a party?” I asked disappointed.
“No. He’s picking up some coke.”
When Bob stopped by, Mathew cut us some lines on a mirror, and rolled a bill, which we all passed around to snort. Bob didn’t hang, which I was happy about.
“You two have a good night,” Bob said standing.
Mathew walked with him to the door, handing him a packet. I thought about the box Mathew had picked up and then about the cocaine. I felt a sense of fear tear through me. When he turned from the door he grinned at me.
“Mathew, are you dealing?” I asked, afraid to know.
“No,” he answered, looking me in the eye.
I stared at him.
“I’m not,” he repeated.
It seemed strange to me that Bob would come get some of Mathew’s own stash. How much could he have? I thought about the Park City days, the dealers I knew in town, how coke was pretty much available with a phone call. Why would he call Bob unless it was to tell him he had picked up coke? Let it go, Morgan, trust him.
“Come here, you,” he said, pulling me from the couch towards the bed.
He made love to me slowly, lovingly, making me forget my fear. I curled around his side afterwards, wanting to stay close to him. He mindlessly wrapped one of my curls around his finger, let it go, and did it again.
“Morgan, why did you go with Kevin that day?” he asked.
We both knew what day he was asking about. I pictured the day, out by the O’Conner’s pool; he’d been seeing Kim. I remembered walking in the dark to Kevin’s house, and the drive home. Remembered finding blood in my underwear when I undressed for bed.
“You mean, why did I give it up to Kevin that day?”
“I guess that’s what I mean,” he said.
“You know the answer.”
“I do?”
“Oh, come on,” I said sarcastically.
“I can guess. I originally thought you did it because you really liked him. But when Kevin asked me why you wouldn’t see him again, I couldn’t answer. I was surprised you wouldn’t see him,” Mathew said.
I recalled the kiss in the bathroom, and my anger.
“Why did you follow me to the bathroom and kiss me like you did?”
“Because I wanted you bad that day, I didn’t want Kevin to be having a good time with you,” he said.
“As I recall, there was an obstacle named Kim. And back then, when did you ever want me bad?” I asked.
“Probably more times than you knew.”
“What?” I asked, lifting my head to look at him. “You are so full of shit. You know why I ‘gave it up' to Kevin? Because you wouldn’t take it. I wanted you to be the one. I thought I was pretty clear. Did you not ever get that?”
I was a bit miffed, now that he’d brought it up, recalling my hurt feelings. Recalling the desperation I could feel, almost to the extreme of panic.
“I got it, but I felt like I would be taking advantage,” he defended.
“Advantage? Taking advantage?” I laughed. “You’re hysterical. You sexually teased me for years and actually doing it would have been taking advantage?”
He looked at me and gently rubbed my back.
“I didn’t want to lead you on. I didn’t want to feel responsible to you.”
“Lead me on? Responsible? What the hell does that mean?” I asked, baffled.
“I thought if I took your virginity you would expect me to be your boyfriend. I didn’t think I was capable of that.”
Gayle’s words resounded in my head, the ones I had spoken, the not making sense part, so it made sense.
“Mathew, so much of what happened confused me. You still confuse me,” I said.
“It’s history,” he said, kissing me.
I decided, despite my fears, I would tell him that I would move.
Chapter 48
My last night in town, we were getting ready to go meet the band at a club close by.
“Which one,” I asked, holding up two different panties.
“I like the pink-and-blue,” he said.
I slipped them on along with the matching bra.
“I’m ready,” I said.
Mathew laughed.
“It’s a little too skimpy, kid.”
I laughed pulling jeans and a low cut blouse from my suitcase, he watched intently as I put my clothes on.
“I like you naked best,” he said.
“Well I like the shirt,” I said, moving to him, feeling his chest, admiring the jeans and the blue-on-blue paisley shirt he had on. “You always find the wildest clothes.”
It was actually subtle for him, but I loved how it set off his blue eyes, tan face, and blond hair.
"I may just have to keep you here," I said, running my hands down his sides feeling horny.
“I told them we would come,” he said.
I’d heard him talk to Jack on the phone. He’d been a little more eager than I’d hoped, about going out to party.
“I know. I’m kidding.”
“Little pick-me-up before we go?” he asked.
“Bring it on,” I answered.
He handed me the coke vial. I wondered if the special occasion deal was getting to be an every occasion deal.
The club was full when we got there, a fairly long line outside. People our age and younger dressed to the nines, ready to party.
“Busy place,” I said.
Mathew took my hand and walked to the front of the line, straight up to the bouncer.
“Hey, Matt,” he said, pulling the rope aside and letting us in.
“That’s fucked up,” someone yelled from the front of the l
ine.
Mathew wound his way through the crowd and found the boys in the back of the club.
“Glad you made it,” Jack said.
“Told you I would. If Morgan had her way, I’d be tied to the bedpost right now.”
My chest got hot and I could feel my cheeks burn in embarrassment.
“Shut up,” I said, slapping his arm.
“Nothing wrong with that,” Jack said.
“Sit down,” Emily patted the chair next to her.
“Hey, guys,” Mathew, shouted over the music to everyone else at the table.
I noticed Sean was back on with his girlfriend. His eyes sultry and sexy, his arm wrapped around her. Oh, and that day, I chuckled inside.
“I’ll get us a drink. Chardonnay?” he asked.
“Please.”
I watched him make his way towards the bar. Mathew stopped along the way, greeting people he knew. Many of them girls being overly friendly, pressing into him, touching, one even kissing him. I chatted with Emily.
“Have you two been having a good time?” she asked.
“So good,” I said loudly.
I was thinking about our time together, how intense, loving, and hot it could be, and yet when we got in a crowd the dynamics seemed to shift. A shift I didn’t exactly like. Mathew returned with drinks.
“Here, kid,” he said as he handed me my wine.
Mathew spoke to the guys a few minutes and then excused himself to go to the restroom. When he reappeared, he was again delayed by people along the way; many of them girls. Emily saw I was watching.
“Mathew, he always likes a crowd,” she said with a smirk.
“You mean the girls,” I called.
Yes he did, I thought, the crowd and the girls, the center of attention, the leader of the band. Emily had been around the band for years and knew more than I cared to know I was sure. When he came back, he brought another glass of wine with him. We all sort of shout-talked, and then he was off again, working the crowd.
“Where is the restroom?” I asked, leaning over to Emily.
She pointed across the room.
“The hall just below that neon sign.”
I wound my way through the crowd to the hall she’d pointed to. I walked down it, people passing me the other direction as I made my way. His back was to me, and I could see the blonde's face that he was talking to. He had his hand on the wall, facing her, almost blocking her path. I walked by and turned around, he had the lazy sexy grin on face. My heart froze as I stared at him. He dropped his arm slowly and his grin faded. I shoved through the door into the bathroom and could feel the blood drain from my face. When I came out, she was gone and Mathew was waiting.
“Having a good time?” he asked, putting his arm around me, like nothing had happened.
I looked at his beautiful face, and it hit me like a freight train. I finally recognized what had been holding me back. The little piece I hadn’t been able to put my finger on. I could deal with his insecurities. I was pretty confident I could handle the alcohol and drug issues. What I couldn’t handle was the girl thing. I realized in that instant that it would never change. It would never be him and me alone.
I couldn’t shut us off from the world forever, and in the world there would always be girls coming onto him. He liked it. We might work for a while, maybe even a long while, but at some point he would stray. I’d watched it over the years with his other girlfriends. He had even cheated on several of those girlfriends with me. I saw in that one exchange it was a matter of time for me. If I gave my whole heart, I knew I couldn’t bear it. It would tear me apart, tear us apart. I leaned in and kissed him.
“I love you,” I said.
We stayed for a few more drinks and then went back to the hotel. When we got in the room, he took me in his arms and I let him. We made love, even as my heart was breaking on the inside, shattering into little pieces.
“Morgan, what’s wrong?”
I tried to hold them in, but couldn’t. The tears came.
“I can’t move here, Mathew. I just can’t,” I said, almost in a whisper. “As much as I want to love you and see if it would work, I can’t.”
He pushed back from me and stared into my eyes, confusion written all over his face.
“You told me you loved me tonight,” he said.
“I do love you, but I don’t think it’s mutual. I’m safe for you, Mathew. When things go wrong or you want ‘comfortable’, you come to me. You have for years. Things have gone incredibly wrong lately, and safe feels good for you right now.”
“That’s not true, Morgan. I want you. Us,” he said.
He didn’t think any of my reasons were valid. I didn’t mention the girl issue; he would deny it. I wanted to hear I love you too, but it never came. If it had, he might have been able to change my mind. He needed me, he wanted me, he never said anything about loving me. He wanted to “try and make it work”. At this stage, I needed more than that. In the end, I felt it was too big a leap of faith to give up everything for him, to only try. Tears leaked from my eyes as I fell asleep in his arms. When I woke the next morning, he wasn’t in the bed. I sat up abruptly. He was lying on the sofa in his jeans, no shirt, his hair untidy, looking as sexy as ever.
“What are you doing?” I asked confused.
“Watching you sleep,” he answered.
I ran my fingers through my hair, pulling it back.
“I must look like hell,” I said, remembering the tears.
“You look beautiful,” he said, coming to me.
He sat down on the edge of the bed and cupped my face with his hand. It was warm and I wanted to drown in it, wished I could, wished for all it was worth I hadn’t seen him look at the blonde with that grin.
“Stay one more night with me. Please?” he begged.
I pulled the cottony sheets tight around my neck.
“Fuck, Mathew,” I said, the tears starting again.
He bent down and hugged me to him hard. He let me cry for a long time, and then he called the front desk. I changed my flight to Monday afternoon. We stayed in bed all day, he ordered room service, but I couldn’t eat. When we made love, I fought the tears.
“You’re the only person who knows who I am, and who I’m not. You accept me that way,” he said.
“I know I have,” I said reticently.
He was looking for a change of heart. The guilt flooded through me, and I questioned my decision yet again. I did accept him for what he was, and that was part of the problem. He would assume I would get over it, whatever it might be, and would always take him back. My thoughts and heart were at odds: my thoughts logical, my heart wanting him to convince me otherwise.
“What about love, Mathew? There’s nothing about love.”
He kissed me instead of answering me. I waited.
“That comes with time,” he finally said.
It wasn’t the answer I needed. Apparently he didn’t think twelve years was enough time. I had to stick to my decision. I figured he wouldn’t keep in touch. He’d always been terrible at it, and it tore at my heart. For the first time, he had not gotten what he wanted from me. He wasn’t happy about it. When he dropped me at the airport it was stiff and awkward.
He shut me out quickly, which hurt me badly. I was surprised he didn’t at least try and convince me. I had loved him. Did love him, but I felt it wasn’t enough. My love alone couldn’t save us. “You’re complex” I could hear him say. Maybe I was. Maybe I over-thought things, worried too much about making the right choice, but I couldn’t help it. The last part of the summer, friends of mine were taking a road trip to San Francisco and asked me to come. I felt like I should leave Mathew alone, but when they decided to stay in San Jose for a night, I broke down. I called him from a pay phone in Bakersfield and told him I would be in town for the night.
“We're staying at the Motel 6 close to downtown,” I said.
“You have your own room?”
I could see his face, his lips, hi
s eyes, his grin. The way he could look at me that made me crazy.
“Yes,” I said hoarsely, feeling the butterflies in my stomach.
“I’ll change my plans. Call me when you get in.”
“I will,” I said.
“You’ve certainly moved up in your choice of hotels,” he teased.
I couldn’t wait to see him. Here I had been the one to say no, and yet I longed for him, still. I called him the minute I walked into my room.
“I’ll see you in about twenty minutes,” he said.
The four of us went to dinner at a Chinese restaurant. We drank beer and ate too much food. We got back to the motel early, and my friends excused themselves to their room. I felt awkward when the two of us were alone, almost shy, like I didn’t know what to say or how to start. He looked the same, beautiful.
“Come here, kid,” he said, as he sat down on the bed. “I’ve missed you.”
“Me too,” I said, moving to stand in front of him.
He put his hands on my hips and lifted his face towards mine. I bent down and kissed him. He pulled me onto the bed and wrapped his arms around me. I lay on my side with my head on his arm. I wanted to cry, and laugh, and change my mind all at the same time. He tenderly stroked my arm as I listened to his heartbeat.
“How’s life treating you?” he asked.
“It’s been okay, working a lot. I’m happy to have school starting again soon.”
We were trying to act like us, but it was forced. I wished we could go back, back to when I thought my feelings for him were perfectly rational.
“You?”
He talked about the band and the parties, and I wondered if he had slipped back into his old behaviors already. He paused. I sat up and took my shirt and bra off. I took one of his hands and put it on my breast. I wanted to rewind and have it be the same, even when I knew that wasn’t possible.
“Are you seeing anyone?” he asked.
“No,” I answered honestly.
It had been too much of an emotional journey with him, and I wasn’t ready for anyone new. My feelings were still raw, and jagged, and broken.
“You?” I asked, not really wanting to know.
“A few girls here and there, nothing serious. I’m glad you’re here,” he said, leaning in to kiss me.
