Page 5 of My Turn Petal
A note I can’t figure out.
And that’s impossible.
I know music by heart, even when my head is not in it my fingers always know which string creates the right sound—I’ve been playing guitar since I was ten years old. And I have tried to study Frankie countless times, the same way I do with music—I listen and observe.
“Jude, I’ll talk to you later, I’m getting inside the elevator.” She finishes the call. There’s a lack of cheerfulness in her tone.
I climb down the stairs of the second floor, letting her take the ride alone as I make my way to the spacious lobby of our building.
The transparent glass doors make it easier for me to track her short body as she drapes her leg over her black S1000RR motorcycle seat—rocking her black heel boots.
What I would give to have that leg doing the same thing to my lap.My smirk makes a quick appearance.
Her bike disappears as she exits the parking lot, the sound of her beast still roars in the street for a few good seconds before it fades entirely.
Dewdrops cover the asphalt and suck me in for a moment.
Vaginismus.Her sexy voice keeps repeating the word in my head.
I browse through a few articles on my phone, letting the information sink in and processing the fact she can’t have sexual intercourse because penetrating her is unachievable at the moment.
It’s treatable though.
I can’t even begin to think what she’s going through. It’s such a basic need and act for humankind, any kind, and yet the struggles she faces must be disheartening. It would be on anyone.
If she had it for long, it must have beaten her spirit to a pulp, but she still gets up every morning and carries on, building her successful business and mastering her craft.
All those times we spent together. It never even occurred to me that she deals with something like this. It takes tremendous ounces of resilience to face it time and time again. Never give up, and try to get better.
Not everyone would understand that.
The thought of her with someone else resurfaces again.
No way I’d let some random guy touch her, someone who doesn’t know anything about her, let alone help her with her precious condition when I’m more than willing to be her support system and the shoulder she can lean on.
I’d give anything to be the one corrupting her into my state of mind. Chasing her around and having my way with her. She needs someone punctual. Someone who puts her needs first and not his—who will be patient and take care of her in the process.
Someone who will ignite her body.
We’ve been spinning around each other for so long. The number of times we could’ve started something was endless. But every time it seemed like it wasn’t the right time. Not the best day. Not the right moment. It slipped away so fast that I just didn’t know if making a move that may affect our friendship was the right call.
Maybe this is me and Frankie, dancing around our feelings, but I’ll be damned if another guy gets to spend my time with her.
I don’t want her to get hurt, not mentally and definitely not physically, and I will do anything to make sure she’s safe even from afar.
I get inside my blue Camaro and exit my parking space as I continue to drive downtown.
How am I supposed to address the situation?
I know about your pussy problem.
Well, no jerk.
I know about your condition.
That’s too serious, but less will make it sound not so serious.
I heard you talking to your friend.
