Page 42 of Perfect Tragedy
It breaks me.
Now, it's a month later.
And everything that happened before is the reason why I’m now dating. I realized my hope was just that - hope - and not supported by fact or substance. There’s no reason to hope - all of it was nothing more than a girl’s wish - a fantasy. When I pulled back and looked at it all as objectively as I could the last month, I actually felt embarrassed. It was past time I move on and let go. I had wanted to believe we could be together, but what proof did I have to support that? None. Nothing. Not one thing. I needed to stop reliving one stupid moment over and over because clearly, while I had thought it had meant the same thing to him as it did to me, it didn’t.
So when Jesse asks me out for the third time, at Vanessa’s urging, I finally say yes. Initially I thought of him a bit as my rebound, a chance to help me push Blake out of my mind, and decided that it was okay. But the truth is, we are having fun together. We’ve been on more than a handful of dates, alone and with others and we genuinely have a good time together.
Tonight, I’m going to his place. I’m meeting him there and we are going to have dinner together and watch a movie.
His parent’s aren’t home. We will be alone. I have a feeling things may escalate and while I feel nervous, I am willing to do whatever it takes to push Blake out of my mind once and for all and be open to other possibilities.
I’m nervous as I get ready, selecting my outfit carefully, taking great care with my appearance. I’m nervous when I drive to his house, nervous when he answers the door and places a soft kiss on my lips. We’ve already kissed, several times, and I like it. It makes me feel wanted, desired.
He’s ordered take-out from my favorite restaurant and I can barely eat any of it. When we finally move to his family room and he puts a movie on, I don’t even realize what it is we’re supposed to be watching. I look at him, he turns and looks at me and before I know it, we’re kissing.
It feels nice, the sensations running through me are pleasant. I know he’s taken off guard when I pull him down on top of me. He hesitates and pulls away from me looking into my eyes in question and then for confirmation and approval. I put my mouth back to his and he kisses me fiercely. I squeeze my eyes shut and lose myself in the feeling of Jesse’s body against mine, in the taste of his kisses. When his hands brush against my breasts and a place more intimate, I like the feelings it evokes.
Our intimacy progresses quickly. I remove his shirt, he removes mine. He pauses, “Sienna?”
“Hm?”
“What are we doing?” He asks with humor in his voice.
“I mean, if I have to explain this to you, it’s a problem.”
He chuckles, “Are you sure about this?” He pushes my bra strap down my shoulder and kisses it.
“Are you complaining?”
“No. Hell no.”
“Then shut up and touch me.”
I need this. I want to feel desired, wanted, needed by someone. On some level I know this is wrong. I know that this isn’t who I really want to do this with; who I want to cause these emotions within me. The realization that I’m trying to fill the emptiness in my heart, in my soul, with something else mixes in with what I’m experiencing physically, but I can’t choose to stop myself.
In no time, the rest of our clothes are gone. A condom has miraculously become available out of nowhere and I stare in wonder as he rolls it on himself. As he begins to push himself inside of me, I feel almost disembodied and as panic starts to rise in my chest, I tell myself it’s okay, that I’m okay, that I want this, I need this.
There’s a flash of pain and I grit my teeth.
A tear rolls down my cheek.
It’s over fast. The most anticlimactic moment of my life.
I go to the bathroom and clean myself up quickly. It’s when I glimpse myself in the mirror that I begin to become unraveled.
I take in my disheveled appearance. The glassy look in my eyes, the flush of embarrassment in my cheeks, the chapped state of my mouth, the dots of red on my throat and chest and I feel a heavy wave of shame rush over me and I begin to drown in it.
I fly out of the bathroom and grab my things.
“Sienna?”
I can’t reply. There’s a sob clogging my throat.
“Sienna, what’s wrong? What did I do?” The concern in his voice calms me a little. The fact is, Jesse is a nice guy. Areallynice guy. In a different time, a different life, I could see myself really liking him. If only I was able to let my heart be with someone else. Instead it’s hung up on someone I will never have.
“I’m sorry, Jesse. I have to go.”
“Wait,” he grabs my arms. “I’m sorry. I thought you wanted-”
