Page 95 of Two Marlboros

He shoved me aside and exited the bathroom, leaving me unable to retort. I couldn’t say I was surprised, but I also didn’t think he could be so brazen.

I joined him in the living room, but he was truly about to leave. I wanted to say something, to make my point, yet I didn’t know where to start. He walked to the apartment door, and I did the same, perhaps hoping he would stay. Instead, he reached for his wallet, and for a moment I thought he was going to pull out money and pay me. After all, I had been his slut, hadn’t I?

I was ashamed that I had thought that, or perhaps that it might even have happened. It didn’t happen, though. He simply put back his wallet, which he had only been scrutinizing for who knows what reason, cast me a glance, and walked out. I stood staring dumbfounded at the door for I don’t know how long, and only when my vision began to blur, I realized that I was crying.

It was three minutes to two o’clock. I had been trying to sleep all that time, but I had failed. My eyes had become swollen and dry from too much crying, and I had stopped only because there was only one thing I felt like doing, and with all those tears I couldn’t do it.

I had had that text message in the can for fifteen minutes, without being able to work up the courage to send it. After all, Alan hadn’t been in touch for three days, and I had no idea if it was because of the kiss or if he just had commitments.

I missed him, though, or maybe I just missed his thoughtfulness and kindness, his attention to me. Suddenly I wished that there was another Webster Hall, other girls to get away from, and that for a moment his ex had never existed, and only I could exist.

That wish proved so strong that I sent the message without any second thoughts. I knew he would never respond at that time, because he was certainly asleep - and at that moment I would have given anything to be in the same bed as him, sleeping with him. It had nothing to do with sex; it had more to do with the smell of clean laundry and a tidy house, with the smells of cooking and having dinner ready when I returned from work.

I began to cry again. Did I ever deserve at least one of those things?

The phone vibrated. For a moment I feared it was Harvey, but instead it was really Alan. I wiped my eyes in disbelief and read that answer I had so hoped to receive.

No bother, I’m awake.

Are you alright?

For the first time in many hours, a smile broke out on my face. I didn’t want to tell him what had happened. I just wanted to be with him, with any excuse.

I can’t sleep and the exam is approaching.

I can’t remember anything.

“Can I come to you?” was the subtext. “Can I come into this life of yours that is so neat, made up of decent people, smiles, kindness and love?”

I couldn’t take my eyes off the phone screen, so much that when the answer came, I immediately rushed to read it.

Come on, I’ll expect you tonight by 5:30.

Bring everything you need.

Wrapped in a sense of protection and comfort, my eyes clouded over again, and I started crying again. It was a soft cry that freed me from the disgust I had felt until a short time before.

I thanked him, put the phone down beside me, and closed my eyes. Maybe I couldn’t sleep with Alan, but nothing prevented me from imagining it.

18

Beastly Sins

(?Backstreet Boys - Show me the meaning of being lonely)

Nathan rang at the appointed time. He had his college shoulder strap, which, judging by the way it unbalanced him, must have weighed a lot. He slipped off his sunglasses and jammed them into the neckline of his shirt, then addressed me with the usual “Hello.”

I took my time and closed the door behind him, feeling, for the first time, apprehensive about being alone. I was not afraid that he might kiss me again, no; on the contrary, I was afraid of what my actions might be.

“Where should we go?”

I pointed to the kitchen without saying a word. My throat was dry, and the pounding of my heart had not yet left me. It was the moment he sat down in Oliver’s place that an intuition crossed my mind, but Nathan and Oliver had nothing in common, and I reiterated it strongly until the pounding became regular again.

Oliver was the one and only in my life, and I knew it would be years before anyone could patch up that deep wound. I had nothing to fear, and I felt stupid for thinking otherwise, even for a moment.

“Okay, what do you need to study?”

Nathan pulled a pack of handouts out of his shoulder strap, placed them on the table, and looked at them with a huff and a dejected look. He bent down and pulled out a pencil case, which he placed between his seat and the head of the table, where I was; he opened it, raced over and picked up a pairof highlighters, passed them through his hands, and raced over again.

---