by Ute Jackle
“It’s okay,” I said to Toby, before I turned to Ben as slowly as possible to postpone the moment of my humiliation. Of course, he was watching me expectantly, with a hang-dog expression as if he were deeply hurt.
“I’m sorry,” I pressed out between clenched teeth, my neck muscles tightening. I felt on the verge of choking. The bastard clasped his hands behind his head, savoring the moment of my humiliation while Toby grabbed the used condom and disappeared.
“Sorry, what was that?” Ben put one hand behind his ear. “I didn’t understand you, your voice was too soft.”
For a moment, I wondered how many years I would go to jail for if I killed Ben right now. Surely, some smart lawyer would be able to plead my case as a crime of passion and cite mitigating circumstances to have the charges reduced. “I’m sorry, okay?” I snarled at him. Ben stepped closer. His devilish grin made me suspicious, and even the blue of his eyes seemed to darken a bit.
“Never mind. But I know how you can make up for all those unfounded accusations.”
“I won’t sleep with you, forget it.”
“Who’s talking about sex?” Ben honestly sounded surprised. Goddamn it, did the humiliation need to go on forever?
“You could clean the bathroom for me, and we’d be even.”
“Fine,” I mumbled, while Grey’s Anatomy captured Ben’s attention again. He grimaced as a surgeon reached into a patient’s open abdominal cavity and held up a dripping kidney, which he gently slid into a stainless-steel bowl. Then the camera zoomed in on his bloody hands.
“And you choose to watch this stuff?” Ben shook his head. “No wonder you’re always on edge.” He sauntered back to his room while I needed to sit down for a minute, staring at the screen. What was so bad about this? It was just abdominal surgery, not half as gross as touching a used condom.
16
After a restless night, during which my masochistic brain kept replaying the events of the evening, forcing me to relive every embarrassing detail in high definition and slow motion, I finally woke up around six o’clock, soaked in sweat. Ben could have cleared up this little mix-up right away and saved us both a lot of embarrassment. But no, out of pure spitefulness—as I strongly suspected—he had played this comedy to the end. Actually, it was all Ben’s fault, as I now clearly realized.
After a short shower, I tiptoed out of the apartment to go to the lab.
In the two hours I was there, I evaluated lists for my professor, corrected a handful of freshman papers, and did several other odd jobs. Now, I was standing in the lab cleaning test tubes, flasks and petri dishes, wiping down the work surfaces, and sweeping the floor at the end. This was also part of my job, despite the fact there was no mention of having to clean the lab in my job description. But I was glad to have found a job at all, and I could also use it for a reference on future applications after graduation. I had just finished when Rhashmi walked in. She had texted me earlier that she was going to come by and pick me up for our lecture.
“Hi, I just finished,” I said. “Just have to put my tools away.” I held up the broom and dustpan.
Rhashmi giggled. “They’re using you as a cheap cleaner.”
“I know.” I gazed at Rhashmi, astonished. Her kohl-lined eyes sparkled, and her lips shimmered with gloss as she incessantly twirled a strand of hair around her thumb and fingers.
“Is there something new about you?”
She nodded immediately. “I’ve applied for the environmental project in Mumbai. If they accept me, I’ll be in India next year for six months. Isn’t that awesome?”
“It sounds terrific, but...”
“But what?” she interrupted me, her voice rising an octave.
“They speak Hindi there.”
“I know that,” she snapped as she jumped up and sat on the lab table.
“If Anoob makes you sweat, what are you going to do in Mumbai?”
“The people there speak English too.” She swung her legs.
“Okay.” I could vividly imagine the Indian students trying to chat with my pretty friend while she stood there red-faced, only managing to stutter out a few chunks of English.
“Just stop, I know what you’re getting at. My mom even told me I should take language classes at the community college to at least learn the basics. Can you imagine that?” She snorted. “I, Rhashmi Reinhardt from New Delhi, taking a Hindi 101 class.”
“I always thought you were from Dortmund.”
“My roots are in Delhi.” She jumped off the table, flipping back her hair. “Imagine me sitting in a class with a Claudia and a Jens, and not understanding a word the teacher’s trying to teach us. And then the two of them being able to speak my ancestral tongue fluently while I can hardly put together even one decent sentence.”
I sighed. Sometimes I really envied Rhashmi’s problems.
“I’m sure you’ll do fine without going to language lessons. A semester abroad is a great opportunity and a unique experience. Why don’t you just see what happens?” I loved the idea of studying abroad, but hadn’t worked up the nerve to apply yet. Especially since I didn’t know it would work out being gluten-free somewhere else in the world. Even as a child, I’d been unable to go to summer camp because they couldn’t ensure gluten-free meals there. So, I spent my summers by the lake with my dad, while my friends enjoyed themselves at various camps.
“True.” Rhashmi waited at the door as I got my backpack out of my locker and headed her way.
“Say.” Rhashmi lowered her eyes, a slight blush rising on her cheeks. “Have you seen Erdie around lately? After all, he is your roommate’s friend.”
Oh, no. Now I got why she was all dressed up—it was Thursday. Apparently, she hadn’t given up hope that this womanizer would still show up at the cafeteria one day. I didn’t want to be the one to break the bad news to her.
“Um... Yes... In town, just for a moment,” I stammered, searching my backpack for a non-existent tissue. When I looked up quickly to check the situation, I stepped right into the Rhashmi Trap. Her almond eyes were as big as saucers, glimmering with hope.
She looked at me so imploringly that there was no way I could tell her the truth, even if it was the only right thing to do to save her from that self-absorbed bad boy.
Thinking hard, I broke out in a sweat.
“You know, uh... I ran into him downtown the other day, we talked a bit... Uh... Then his phone rang and... Uh... I went on.” Phew. That wasn’t a total lie. I wondered how Ben managed to come up with cheap excuses all the time to keep his floozies satisfied. Continuously lying like this would be way too stressful for me. Rhashmi raised an eyebrow. Rats, I was acting way too suspiciously, as my cheeks blushed telltale red.
“That’s all you talked about?”
I cleared my throat. “No,” I answered a little too quickly and waved her off. “You know how it is. He was in a hurry, and I was in a hurry... Speaking of hurries, we’ll be late for class.” I grabbed Rhashmi by the sleeve of her sweater to drag her out of the lab before I locked up.
“Men are bastards,” she suddenly said, to which I nodded.
“Especially the good-looking ones,” I couldn’t help it. “Actually, it’s women’s own fault if they allow themselves to get so wrapped up in a nicely-sculpted bicep and attractive face that they mutate into insecure rodents, basing their self-esteem on the patronizing whims of some self-indulgent guy.”
Rhashmi’s face darkened. I could see in her eyes that she took my words personally. “Who are you talking about?”
I gave her a quick sideways glance as I walked on. “The modern, self-confident woman of today should reflect more on a man’s inner values and not fall for good-looking jerks just because they buy them a few drinks at the bar. It’s unacceptable that sensitive, good-hearted guys are left behind just because they don’t meet the stereotype of an attractive man, while well-built ego maniacs unscrupulously jump from bed to bed and leave countless broken hearts in their wake. And to top it off,
they won’t even kiss their conquests on the mouth.” I was on a roll and panting for breath as we climbed the stairs to the lecture halls. I could have easily omitted the last sentence, since this attribute probably only applied to one person.
“Everything okay with you?” Rhashmi asked carefully. “You almost sound like a man-hater.”
“I don’t hate men, but I’m keeping my eye on the future,” I announced cockily. “From now on, I won’t judge men purely by their looks, and will only be with someone who is sensitive and caring. A man of character.”
“You’ll still have to kiss him though” Rhashmi replied, deadpan.
“What do you mean?” I stopped in my tracks.
“In a way, you’re right. I also want a boyfriend with good qualities. But what can I do? If I don’t like a guy’s looks, he won’t do it for me in the bedroom, no matter how nice he is.”
“Beauty is in the eye of the beholder.” I raised my chin. “I’d give any man a chance, no matter what he looks like.”
Rhashmi shook her head. Strangely enough she didn’t seem to share my opinion. Yet she was a woman and apparently one of those who always fell for the heartbreakers and learned nothing. Someone squeaked behind us: “Hey! Wait up.”
We turned around and found Martin hopping towards us, the sides of his black and white diamond-patterned cardigan sweater flapping around his slim torso. He was holding a thick stack of magazines, which was threatening to slip out of his hands.
“I brought you something.” He beamed at me, making me feel uneasy.
I faked a cheerful smile. “Really? That’s nice of you.” A quick glance at his magazines, and I moaned silently. Rhashmi giggled quietly.
“Financial Times Magazine issues from January 2017 to today.” He held them out expectantly. His nasally voice always reminded me somehow of a toad with a bad cold.
“Oh, thanks.” Crap, what was I supposed to do with this useless pile of paper? “You know what? I think one magazine will do for now. I’m an absolute beginner when it comes to the stock exchange.”
He pouted like a toddler whose mommy had just refused to get him a sweet.
“What would you even do with just one issue? You have to go through them one by one. I always read a few pages before going to sleep. Right now, I’m browsing through the latest issues of The Stockbroker. It’s fascinating. If you like…” He smiled at me shyly, “You could have them next.”
I took a deep breath. “Great.” I accepted the heavy pile reluctantly, and the weight almost brought me to my knees. How was I supposed to get these to the apartment unharmed? I needed a forklift.
“Well, aren’t you a real sweetheart,” I heard Rhashmi say brightly, enunciating every word.
“Yeah? You think so?” Martin’s face lit up like a Christmas tree as she nodded.
“Sure,” Rhashmi continued. “You’re caring and sensitive. You seem to know the way to a girl’s heart.” With her chin, she pointed to the wastepaper in my arms, which was slowly dragging me down. “Luca’s really into men like that.”
Oh no, she didn’t just say that! She had just stabbed me in the back!
“You do?” Martin blushed up to the roots of his hair. “You like me?”
The shock ran through me like touching a 10,000-volt line.
“That’s not what Rhashmi meant,” I said hastily, trying to salvage what I could. I pictured myself gagging her and tying her up for her duplicity, like Hannibal Lecter in Silence of the Lambs. “She means guys in general, no one in particular.”
“Weeell...” Rhashmi started, but shut up again when I rammed my elbow into her side, making her double over for a second. Served her right.
“Would you like to go out with me sometime?” Martin ambushed me from behind, his face turning as red as a tomato.
Shit, what should I do now? I needed an escape.
“What happened to you giving every man a chance?” whispered my former friend in a voice distorted by pain.
Defiance rose up inside me. Why was she making fun of Martin’s invitation? He wasn’t a bad guy. He was smart and helpful and... I was running out of attributes for him. Surely, one could talk to him about other things than the current price of gold. “Sure, why not?”
“Really?” they both asked at the same time, looking at me with open mouths.
My daring worried me, but at least I wouldn’t end up the one lonely and miserable because of a rotten old Erdie or Ben. I imagined Rhashmi’s dark future at the side of a callous pretty boy. Martin seemed elated. He was jumping up and down, arms aloft and cheering. The people passing by stared at him as if he were bonkers. I felt a twinge of regret.
“So, dinner tomorrow night?” he asked shyly.
Dinner? I liked the idea of dinner. We’d go to a nice restaurant, which of course I would choose to make sure they offered gluten-free entrees. Then we would say goodbye again before I went home, by myself, with a clean conscience. “Okay.” I heard myself agreeing.
Next to me, Rhashmi was gasping for breath.
“I’ll pick you up tomorrow night around seven.”
Pick me up?!
“No need,” I declined hastily. “I’ll meet you on campus. That’ll be easier for both of us.”
“Cool. See you tomorrow.” Martin dashed off. I wouldn’t have been surprised if he had clicked his heels in delight.
“You sure made someone very happy,” Rhashmi remarked. She couldn’t take her eyes off the animated Martin any more than the rest of the people around us could. Without a doubt, he attracted the attention of others in his own special way.
“It’ll be great,” I said to encourage myself.
We started walking again.
“Well then, I hope you’ll have fun tomorrow.”
“I will,” I replied, clutching the heavy stack of magazines to my chest; my arms were aching. I couldn’t shake the feeling that I had just outsmarted myself, though.
* * *
Gasping for breath, I arrived home that evening with those dumb magazines, and leaned with my forehead against the door of my room. With my last ounce of energy, I stumbled in and dropped them on the floor, where they would probably gather dust. I had just come from my study group, the one Martin also belonged to. In all seriousness, he informed me that he had just come from his apartment. I wanted to strangle him. Then why had I been dragging a ton of wastepaper around with me all day? He could have easily brought the magazines with him in the evening. Sometimes I really didn’t know what was going on inside that guy. A cramp in my left calf forced me onto my desk chair. To distract myself from the dull pain, I checked my text messages. There was one from Caro asking if I would like to go to the LGBTQ gala next month. She wanted to secure some Early Bird tickets. Why not? I had gone with her the last two years as well, and the live bands were always awesome. I texted back to say she could get me a ticket.
Three people had liked a picture of me and Caro that I had posted on Facebook yesterday. One of them was Martha, which I took as a good sign that the two were getting closer again. Also, Toby had left a nice “Hot!!!” with a winking smiley, which he honestly could have skipped. By pure chance, I had spotted Ben on his friends list. Not that I was snooping around or anything. I had just checked to see who Toby was friends with. Of course, the copulator had jumped out at me immediately. Neither Ben nor I had sent each other friend requests, and I wanted to keep it that way.
I got up and strolled into the kitchen to drink a glass of orange juice and eat some cheese puffs. After a long search, I had found some in an organic food store labelled as gluten-free, and yesterday I had drawn a huge black skull and crossbones on the bag, just to give my personal burglar a little warning. Full of anticipation, I opened the cupboard door and found it empty again. My pulse started racing frighteningly fast. Ben. The most selfish bastard in the whole world! I would get him back for this unforgivable outrage. That guy had to stop stealing my food for God’s sake.
Listening down the hallway, I couldn’t
hear any sounds coming from either of the other rooms. Apparently, everyone was gone, and I was home alone—perfect. First, I needed to gather evidence. The empty bag wasn’t in the kitchen trash, so the corpus delicti, or what was left of it, must have been stashed somewhere in Ben’s room. I planned to grab it and present it to him at his later trial. Tiptoeing down the dark hallway, I stopped in front of Ben’s door. For some reason, I didn’t want to turn on the light. My pulse was throbbing in my throat. I felt like a burglar, but I calmed myself down again. After all, I was defending my right to my cheese puffs. I hated Ben for the hundred thousandth time since we’d met.
To be on the safe side, I first pressed an ear to his door, but didn’t hear any suspicious noises, so I turned the knob and opened the door a crack. Just as I was about to sneak in, I froze.
17
I held my breath and should have backed out immediately, but I couldn’t move a muscle. Instead, I stared at the scene before my eyes, while a strange warm feeling spread through my stomach. A naked blonde woman was keeling on all fours on Ben’s bed, and he was right behind her, rocking his pelvis back and forth in a gentle rhythm. His eyes were closed, and his head was thrown back, a few strands of hair plastered onto his forehead. The blonde woman moaned softly. Ben’s breathing was shallow. He thrust himself into her quicker and quicker, taking her faster without getting rough. With one hand, he gently ran his fingers up to her neck and wrapped her hair around them. Then he pulled her head backward—it seemed dominant, but not brutal. He never stopped moving back and forth in this controlled rhythm, circling inside of her, while his bed bunny moaned with delight. As hard as I tried, I simply couldn’t leave the room. Almost mesmerized, I watched their lovemaking and felt myself start to throb between my legs. Damn it, watching Ben have sex was turning me on.
The shock of this realization finally broke the spell. My gaze glided from Ben’s waist to his chest. His flat stomach was toned with well-defined muscles, his chest looked smooth and firm, athletic and yet as soft as velvet. Then I paused. A tattoo was emblazoned on his left pec, intricate lettering which I couldn’t decipher from where I stood with barbed wire coiled around it, seemingly encircling the words. Ben’s face contorted slightly. He looked wild and ecstatic, as his eyes turned completely black. Passion flashed within me like lightning and pounded through my body with growing intensity. Suddenly, I wanted to be the one on all fours on his bed while he took me just as tantalizingly as this unknown woman. It was hard for me to breathe suddenly, and I realized I needed to disappear before they discovered me. But I couldn’t. I wanted to follow this spectacle to the end. So, I stood there as if rooted to the ground, watching with a beating heart as he bent over her, slowly sank down onto her back, and nipped her neck.
