Page 113 of Perfect
Theo drives us into Hood River, where we drift in and out of art galleries and shops and a small, cramped bookstore with ridiculous art on the walls before we have lunch at a brewery. Theo seems slightly anxious, constantly checking to see if I’m having a good time. I can tell he’s trying to make things okay and show me we’re a normal couple having a normal, romantic weekend.
We’re not, but I let him try because it’s easier not to fight it.
I ignore the fact that I don’t even feel like fighting it anymore.
As we drive back to the hotel, Theo sheepishly tells me I have a massage at four-thirty, but that it’s not agift, that I deserve to relax and he’d do it himself, but he’d just end up fucking me. I realize he’s apologizing in his own way, so I allow it.
The moment I’m alone with the massage therapist, I start crying. I apologize profusely, and she tells me it’s more common than I think, so I just let myself cry.
I don’t cry in front of Theo anymore unless we’re having sex. I only let myself cry where I think he can’t see me, like the bathroom at the rec center or the trivia bar, and only for a few minutes at a time, because I’m worried he has cameras there, too.
When I get to the hotel restaurant after my massage, Theo ignores that I’ve obviously been crying, and we both pretend everything is fine.
We go back to our room and have the kind of slow, emotional sex we’ve been having more often, the type of sex where I can’t help letting my guard down with him. I keep my eyes closed so I don’t have to see how he looks at me, but he begs me to look athim and be present with him, so I am. Whenever I see the way he looks at me, I realize how completely trapped I am.
How I feel when I see him looking at me like that is an even bigger problem.
***
The line between Theo’s fantasy and my reality gets blurrier as the days slip by. We’re so comfortable with each other now that we have fun together even when we’re not doing anything. When I pretend he’s my boyfriend, I get these glimpses of something good that could have existed between us, and I see that he’s kind of perfect for me. I find myself wanting to share things with him, wanting to be open, wanting to make him laugh, wanting to be affectionate for no other reason than to see him happy.
The most fucked up thing about this situation Theo’s created is that even when I remind myself he’s stalking me and that none of this isreal, I can’t help feeling like it shouldbe real between us.
I want it to be real between us, but it can’t be.
That’s the biggest fucking problem.
34
THEO
SUNDAY, DECEMBER 17
“How’s everything going?”
“It’s goingreallywell, actually.” Dr. Mills smiles a little at the dumb fucking grin I can’t keep off my face.
“That’s great to hear. What’s going well?”
“Things with Alex are amazing.” Dr. Mills nods, smiling a little.
"Do you want to talk about it?"
"We're just connecting so much lately. I feel like she's really starting to let me in."
“I'm happy to hear that. What else is going well? Besides Alex?”
I blink at her, confused for a moment. “What do you mean?” Her eyebrows raise slightly in surprise.
“Theodore, are you telling me that your relationship is the only thing in your life?” I scoff and shake my head but say nothing. “Okay, so what else do you do with your time?”
“Normal stuff. I read, I cook, I clean, I jerk off, I watch TV, I work out, I do projects around the house, I occasionally have to talk to someone about the company, things like that.”
From the look on her face, I might have listed all of those out a little too quickly.
“Well, you sound busy, but are you passionate about any of those things?”
“Um, I love to cook. Food is…important to me.” The way her brows quirk slightly makes me think I revealed something by accident, but I don’t know what.
