Page 24 of Stroked
“Good. I hoped you would say that,” she said as she kicked her sandals off. She pulled her legs up onto the sofa, tucking them beneath her. “Tell me about you, Amy. I told you about me at the club last night.”
“What do you want to know?”
“Whatever you want to tell me.”
I spent the next hour telling her about high school, when I came out, and briefly about college but left out the attack. I also told her about my college girlfriend, but left out the crazy part. I then told her about my parents and how my dad was the DA for the city.
“No siblings?” she asked.
“No, just me. I think that’s why I was upset about Luce moving out.”
“I did not realize you were upset about that. How long ago did she leave?”
“This weekend, actually. But honestly, she spent most of her time with him anyway, before. It makes sense, it was just hard to swallow. We’ve been together for so long.”
“Together? I thought you were friends?”
“Well, I meant,livingtogether. Even in high school, we spent all of our time together. We lived together since we went to college.”
“She seems very happy with Jason. But I have only met them a few times now. She is a kind woman.”
“She’s thebestwoman.”
“Do you have something more with her?”
That question threw me off a bit. “No. She’s my best friend. She’s not gay.”
“You speak of her like you love her,” Valentina said curiously.
“I do. Not the way you think. She’s just my best friend. But I love her.”
“Maybe you need someone to help fill that void? Someone youdolove that way?”
That was a loaded question. I wasn’t sure how to respond. Even though something felt different about her, I still wasn’t sure I had the capacity to love someone that way. Or let myself be loved.
Valentina must have sensed I was struggling because she spoke up again. “Amy, I did not mean anything by that. I am not in love with you. But you can still open yourself to love without being in love.”
Open myself to love. She could have punched me in the gut, it would have hit me the same way. I stared down at the sculpture on the table.
“Where did you get that?” she asked.
I squirmed on the sofa, then reached to grab it. “I made this. I was still in college. But I love it.”
“It is beautiful. You seem very talented. Does it have a special meaning?”
“Well, it’s hard to explain, but it does.” I paused to find the right words. “It’s not necessarily as deep as two souls uniting, but it’s a representation of the moment two people connect as one, physically.”
“To me, that sounds like souls uniting. The act of love does not always mean you are in love, but to share yourself, your body with another, is intimate, deep. Souls can connect at that moment and not be tied together,” she said in that subtle but beautiful accent.
She had the most beautiful but most mind-shattering way of looking at things. It made me slightly uncomfortable, but in a way, I think I liked it. I put the sculpture back down, then leaned back to the sofa while still gazing upon the sculpture.
“Amy, are you alright?”
I finally turned back to her. “Yeah, sorry. I guess I’m tired. Fun night last night equated to a long day today.”
“Perhaps we should go to bed?”
I suddenly felt a second wind, but also nervous. Last night, we were both hammered, and this morning was kind of a blur still.Was I questioning my abilities?
