Page 34 of Rebound With Me
Nina
I takethree deep breaths before opening the door, but it’s not enough oxygen to sustain me. Seeing Vince standing there in a gorgeous shirt and suit jacket, carrying a big leather backpack and a gallon of paint is just too much for my brain and body to process. This means he is going to be removing his shirt and jacket while he paints, and I will have to hide in the bedroom, sitting on my hands, biting my lower lip and counting to infinity in French. He grins and tells me that he brought an old T-shirt and jeans this time. I am both disappointed and relieved.
When he passes by me through the doorway, I try not to inhale his cologne too loudly. He smells like a chic conference room in the Italian Riviera and I want him to ravage me on the table and then go for a stroll with him on the beach.
He looks both disappointed and relieved to see that I’m wearing baggy jeans and an over-sized T-shirt. But he keeps looking down at my bare feet while he sets out the drop cloth that he brought, and the paint tray and roller.
“Can I get you anything to drink?”
“I’ve got a water bottle in my bag, thanks.”
I can’t get a read on him at all so far, and I need to stop trying to. He’s here to paint a wall and that’s it. I have already removed everything from that wall, so he can get to work and then leave.
His phone vibrates in his beautiful pants. He pulls it out and when he sees the caller ID he tells me that he has to take the call. I tell him I’ll be in the bedroom, go in and shut the door to give him privacy and to give myself a chance to remember that I am more than just a body that’s having a hormone surge.
I went to the Brooklyn Botanic Garden the afternoon after seeing him, which is usually the place that I go to when I want to clear my head, and I almost did, except when I found myself in the Desert Pavilion, surrounded by phallic cacti emerging from the ground, and all I could think about was his amazing beautiful penis. I went jogging with Marnie early yesterday morning and even though I never admitted it, we both knew that I was just hoping to catch a glimpse of Vince around the neighborhood. Maybe with a client, at a property. I didn’t. I managed to refrain from looking him up online, but all I could think about was how much I wanted to. All through the barbecue at Marnie’s place, I wondered what Vince was up to. Patching up someone else’s hole? Patching things up with Sadie the nanny? I don’t want to be like this.
I want to be able to remember him for all the wonderful things he said and did. I don’t want to agonize over when I’m going to see him again or whether or not he’s seeing anyone else or if he still wants to get back with Sadie. I want to have my memory of this one perfect one-night stand and a few lovely kisses, and just let it be that.
I have the Lake George trip to look forward to, and I might even take a few other little trips. There’s a whole world out there! There are probably tons of guys that I could be as attracted to as I am to Vince. At least two, or one maybe. Or maybe it would be better to not be so attracted to someone. I can’t just go from being engaged to Russell to being obsessed with Vince. I’m sure Vince is dying to get back out there and boink a bunch of hot chicks, I mean why wouldn’t he? I just can’t be one of them.
By the time I hear him call my name from the living room, I have gotten my heart rate down to a respectable level and I’m ready to say goodbye.
When I see him standing there, barefoot in his old jeans and faded black T-shirt, I look down at what I’m wearing, and realize that we somehow both chose to wear the same outfit for this awkward little engagement. Although I doubt very much that he’d call what he’s wearing an outfit or that he spent any time at all trying to decide what to wear like I did.
“It’s not dry yet, but it’s a pretty good match, I think.”
He’s right. There’s no sign of damage. This one wall looks so fresh and clean but it still blends seamlessly into the walls next to it.
“It looks so good, Vince. Thank you.”
He takes a drink from his water bottle, then puts the bottle down on the floor by his bag. He’s watching me so intently, with a look of amusement on his face. I take a step back when he takes a step forward.
“You probably have to be somewhere…”
“Eventually.” He takes another step towards me, and I am backed up against my armchair. He crosses his arms in front of his chest. “How’ve you been?”
“Fine, good, great. How’ve you been?”
“I’ve been thinking. About you. A lot.”
I reach behind myself to hold onto the chair for support. “Oh yeah?”
“Yeah.” He takes another step towards me. “I know it seems like a bad idea. But I think we should keep doing this.”
“Doing what?”
“Rebounding with each other or whatever you want to call it. I mean, if we’re gonna rebound, why shouldn’t it be with each other?”
“Maybe we shouldn’t be rebounding at all.”
“Maybe we shouldn’t call it that.”
“Whatever this is, or was, Vince, I don’t regret any of it, and I’d like to keep it that way.”
He stands still, arms still crossed, like he’s patiently discussing a deal that he wants to close with an amateur negotiator.
“It’s…it’s like in first grade art class,” I stammer. “All the kids are geniuses with color and expression and if you let them keep working on a painting for too long, more often than not they’ll keep adding paint until they’ve just made a colorful mess on paper. But if you take the painting away from them at the right time...they’re all Monets and Picassos.”
