Page 1 of Nate
1
Piper
“Ashley,please, can we not talk about my love life.”
“Fine,” she says, flicking a handful of French fries in her mouth and washing them down with a sip of beer. “But I don’t know why you’re being so uptight. All I said, was that you need to get laid! What’s wrong with that?”
“Urgh.” I put my knife and fork down on the table. They clatter against the wood. Ashley looks at me with that I-didn’t-mean-to-hurt-your-feelings face that makes it practically impossible to hate her. “You don’t get it. There’s no way you could ever understand. Can we just move on? Talk about something else? How’s Ricardo? Are you two still seeing each other?”
“Yuck! Ricardo!” She flicks her hair over her shoulder. “You have to be kidding me! That guy was a serious scuzzbucket.” Then, changing tack quicker than a speedboat in a speed race at the speedboat race world championships, she lowers her voice, reaches across the table, and squeezes my hand. “And you keep telling me I don’t understand, but how can I, if you never tell me what's wrong?”
“Fine!” I grab the knife and fork off the table and start stabbing and cutting the big slab of fried fish on my plate. “If you really want to know, I’ll tell you. I’ll tell you what it’s like to wake up each morning and look in the mirror. To hate what you see. To be constantly surrounded by pictures of gorgeous women with perfect tans and perfect teeth. Women who look just like you. In magazines, on TV, Instagram, Facebook. To always be comparing myself to them… to you. And to know that I’ll never match up. That every man who looks at me, sees one thing… fat. Chubby. Overweight. And then they move on, like I don’t even exist.” Tears start building up in my eyes. I really don’t want to make a scene. Not in public. Not with my best friend, who I haven’t seen in months because she lives in the city and she works all over the country and I only ever get a chance to speak to her over the phone. And I really, really wanted this weekend to be fun. Not some misery guts, drama-filled, neurotic public break down. But now the words are tumbling out of my mouth it’s like I can’t stop. It’s been building up in me for years. All these thoughts flying around my head that I’m too ashamed to say out loud are finally being let free. And if I stop now, I feel like I might never get the chance to say them again. “I’d love to get laid!” I shout, not caring that half the restaurant can hear me. “I mean, do you think I’m crazy? Do you think I don’t like sex? Do you think I don’t look at every nice-looking man and wonder what it would be like to have him alone. Naked. In my bed. To feel his body pressed against me. To feel his lips caress my skin as he sinks his big fat cock between my legs and fucks me so hard I blackout. Heck… forget nice looking! I'd settle for almost anyone, as long as they're not a complete psycho!"
“But I can’t do that. I can’t run around hitting on men and having random sexual encounters. I don't have the confidence, and men don't like me that way, and I'm an elementary school teacher! It's not the smallest town in the world, but word will get around, and then my career will be over. I'd have to move away.”
Ashley squeezes my hand, but I pull away from her. Shoveling a huge piece of fish on my fork, I bring it to my lips. My shoulders shake as I take a few deep breaths and I try to calm myself.
“And I know it’s not your fault, and the last thing I’m looking for is sympathy. I just thought… you know, that somewhere out there, there’d be a Mr. Right. Waiting for me. Like in all those silly books I read. A soulmate. The other half of my heart.
“God, it sounds crazy. Just talking like that. I should be locked up. But, I really thought, deep down, that's how it was going to work out. I’d be able to find a man who loved me. A good man. A caring man. Someone who could look past my weight and love me for the person I am on the inside.
“But it doesn’t work like that, Ashley. Men are shallow pigs. And I guess I’m just going to have to come to terms with that. I already have one cat. Maybe I should get a few more. I can sit out on my porch surrounded by them, reading my books and yelling at the neighborhood kids who run too fast or walk on my grass or play their music too loud.”
I put the fish in my mouth and sit back in my chair.
“I’m sorry,” Ashley says, “I didn’t know.”
“Yeah,” I say, “That’s because I….”
The air catches in my throat. I try to breathe. Panic surges up in me.
Oxygen! I need oxygen!
“Piper?” Ashley says, a look equal parts concern and confusion on her face. “Are you okay?”
I stand up, my arms flailing in the air. The salt and pepper shakers go flying across the room, smashing on the tiled floor. I pick up a glass of water, miming at her like I’m playing a deranged form of charades. “I can’t breathe! I can’t breathe!” then pour the drink in my mouth, but still my windpipe is blocked.
“Doctor!” Ashley yells, standing up and knocking her chair over. “Is anyone here a fucking doctor?!”
2
Nate
I hearthe call for a doctor from across the restaurant and immediately jump out of my chair.
“Out the way!” I push through the throng of people, apparently content to stand by and watch a woman choke to death.
Wrapping my arms around the lady's waist, I perform the Heimlich maneuver.
My groin presses against her backside, and I can’t help but notice what a phenomenal derriere she has.
A hardness grows in my pants. Inappropriate, but unavoidable.
It’s been months since I’ve even touched a woman. Unless it was a patient.
Ever since my messy divorce, I’ve run away from women. Like I’m a stag in the forest being chased by a pack of hungry, blood-thirsty wolves.
But now, with my body pressed against this damsel in distress. With my hands around her midriff. My arms grazing against the bottom of her large, round breasts, I feel like that might be all about to change.
