Page 27 of Perfect
Later in the day, she takes the bus to the beach, spending her time sitting on a dune and drawing. I’m happy to just watch her as I walk along the beach, keeping her in my sight the whole time.
She doesn’t notice me once.
***
I adjust the structure of my life to Alex’s. I watch her wake up and get ready for work. I go to the coffee shop and watch herwhen she comes in. I go home and watch her work. I watch her work out at the rec center. I follow her when she walks home from work. I watch her eat takeout or her ridiculous excuses for meals, paint, read, watch TV, masturbate, take long baths, and go to sleep. I follow her to the high school and watch her sprint from a distance. I follow her around town the next Saturday as she runs errands, and I cross her path again during her Sunday run. She waves and smiles at me, and I wave and smile back at her, watching her cheeks flush a soft pink. I still want a little more time to get to know her, but I’ll ask her out next week.
I can barely wait any longer.
***
I already know we’re connected, but the more I get to know Alex, the more I realize she truly is the perfect woman for me.
She’s friendly and sociable, which I need in a partner. I can be charming, but I generally find people boring and don’t see the point in interacting with them. Alex, on the other hand, is friendly witheveryone. She’s a bit shy sometimes, but she smiles easily and seems interested in other people, and she gets people to open up to her even though she artfully avoids talking about herself beyond surface things.
I’m not the most open, either, but I want us to be open with each other.
Besides her casual friendliness with some regulars in her workout classes and her closeness with her coworker Bailey, she regularly sees friends on Tuesdays for trivia. There’s a small rotating group of people, mostly men, but Alex seems most comfortable talking to a tall blonde woman with large glasses and a short androgynous woman with her coiled hair styled in long twists. I’ve noticed that she seems more comfortable with women in general. One of the men who joins them frequentlylooks at her appreciatively, buying her drinks and making a point to sit next to her. Thankfully, she doesn’t seem to pay him any extra attention beyond the basic friendliness she shows to everyone.
She certainly doesn’t look at him the way she looks at me.
Seeing Alex at home is seeing another facet of her entirely. She loves comfort. Her clothes are all loose and soft, her blankets and towels are all thick and plush, and her baths are all hot and long. She drinks wine and dances around her apartment to music that was popular a decade ago, songs she knows all the words to, rarely anything new. She watches an eclectic variety of movies and shows, including some of my Nana’s favorite old films, but she seems to watch her favorites over and over. She spends a lot of time making warm, inviting paintings, or curling up on her couch and reading for long stretches of time.
I want to be with her when she does all of it.
I want to make her happy.
She might be perfect for me, but there are some concerning things about her. She never cooks, she eats like shit, and she drinks alot. Sometimes she’ll sit curled up on her couch or bed and stare into space for a long time, and she cries often, seemingly out of nowhere. She sleeps in a tight ball buried under her duvet and has horrible nightmares occasionally. Strangely enough, she has a tough time with sexual pleasure.
She masturbates most nights, but the first time I watched her was one of her more successful endeavors. She tries so hard, and seems to get close, right on the precipice, but is unable to get there. The handful of times I’ve seen her come, it’s exceptional, but other than that, she’ssofrustrated. I watch her every night, and if she doesn’t come, I don’t let myself come. I want to feel her frustration, and it’s awful. It’s been less than a week, and I don’t know how she stands it.
She won’t have to stand it much longer.
***
“So, are you still seeing Alex?” Dr. Mills cocks her head slightly, smiling openly at me. I glance up at the clock. Fifteen minutes and I’m free.
“Mmhmmm.”
“How’s it going?” I shrug, looking out the window.
“Good.”
“Have you two been intimate yet?” I look back at her in surprise.
“No.”
“I think that’s wise. Is that your choice or hers?”
“I’m still getting to know her, so it hasn’t happened yet.”
Dr. Mills smiles a little. “How do you feel about that?”
“I’m trying to be patient,” I say slowly, working hard to keep the condescension out of my voice.
“Tell me about that.”
I cross my arms over my chest, frowning at her. “Why?”
