Page 22 of Torn
“Come on, now. Take a compliment graciously. You deserve it.” He paused for a moment, and I could see the wheels turning in his head. He eased a little more toward me when he said, “I’ve noticed that about you—you’re very reluctant to accept any kind of compliment.” He cocked his head. “Why do you think that is?”
The question, here in the relative still and dark night, was a sting to my heart—it hit close to home. Why indeed? Could it be that I didn’t love myself enough to believe a person when they said something flattering? Was it cynicism or self-loathing that I couldn’t simply be grateful for a compliment? I felt a sharp and sudden ache for the little boy inside—one who had grown up being bullied and teased, one who believed the bullies were right and he was less than.
And… that wasnotsomething I wanted to think about right now, not in this perfect romantic moment.
“Ah, I’m just modest,” I said. To deflect further compliments and my own introspection, I told him to “just kiss me.”
And he did.
Soon, we were making enough noise that we needed to roll up the windows. Soon, those very same windows were misted over, and our lovely view, outside anyway, was lost in a kind of Brigadoon-like fog. Soon, we reclined the two bucket seats, and our clothes were in heaps behind them. Soon, Walt positioned himself awkwardly but effectively between my legs. Soon, my feet rested on the ceiling.
Soon, we were both crying out in extended bliss.
And all too soon… it was over, leaving us wrung out and heaving.
We parted reluctantly, with awkward, shy smiles. We’d been like two animals that had coupled. Strike that. We actuallyweretwo animals who had coupled—rather savagely too.
Unlike an animal, though, I had enough presence of mind (and knowledge of British vernacular) to be grateful that I had been royally shagged in a compact car on the banks of the River Avon.
I never could have predicted it!
Every bit as awkward as our lovemaking was the aftermath. We cleaned up as best we could with the fast-food napkins Walt had in his glove compartment. We managed to get ourselves dressed. We rolled down the windows once more, and I imagined a cloud of sex funk drifting out of the windows to stretch over the river.
“Will you still love me tomorrow?” I asked.
Walt got my song reference and said back, “Oh, Carole, you know I will.” He stared out the front window, which was at last beginning to regain its transparency. He cleared his throat. “But you know I have to leave tomorrow. I’m supposed to go to Wales if I want to keep on track with my tour.”
My afterglow followed the cloud of sex funk right out the window and into the night air. I didn’t want him to leave, despite Teddy’s charms, despite the touristy plans we had for Bath, despite the prospect of meeting the family that had spawned a creature as unique as Boutros.
Gear shift sticking into my side, I cuddled closer to Walt, my head on his shoulder. “Are you sure? I was hoping we could do a bit of sightseeing. Jane Austen’s house, I hear, is around here somewhere. And the buns with clotted cream and strawberry jam at Sally Lunn’s are supposed be beyond belief. Life changing.”
Walt leered. “I doubt her buns could compare to yours.”
“Ah, come on! And thank you. But I do wish you could stay.”
Walt let out a sigh; I couldn’t discern if it was contented or annoyed. The self-loathing part of me, of course, went with annoyed. That part of me said, “There you go again. Too clingy! You can’t just let things be and be grateful for what you have. No, you have to push people away with your worries about commitment and what comes next.” Fortunately, I wasn’t totally damaged and did allow for the possibility that his sigh was a contented one.
That other part of me gave me permission to stretch out our silence for a while, resisting the urge to ask for more—however we wanted to define “more” in that moment.
At last, Walt turned to me and said, “You know, I really don’t need to leavesovery early. Perhaps we could spend the morning together? A bit of the afternoon?”
Inside, I was jumping up and down and grinning like a chimpanzee with a pile of bananas. But I managed, with mighty reserve, to allow only a small smile. “Really? That would be great.”
And we made plans to meet up the following morning at Teddy and Philip’s apartment. I already knew what was on the agenda for Boutros, Teddy, and Philip. They were going to get up early and head out to a nearby attraction, Wookey Hole, a series of caverns that Boutros wanted to take his son, Daryl, to. Of course, I was included in that trip and was actually looking forward to it.
I would have to get out of it now because I looked forwardmoreto Walt coming over to the apartment after everyone had gone. I was already imagining the luxury of having him, a bed, and several hours of uninterrupted time.
“Sweetheart, I need to get some rest. Can I drop you off somewhere?”
I longed for him to spend the night with me. Maybe that would happen sometime during this trip? I dared not think about a timeafterthis trip. I knew when I was going back but hadn’t had the courage to ask how long Walt planned on staying here, or if there was another leg to his travel that would include other European countries.
I knew so little about him, really.
We drove in silence to the apartment building, taking several wrong turns because even at best, my sense of direction was lousy. But we managed to get there.
When we were in front of the building, I put a hand on Walt’s knee. “Sorry about getting you lost—twice.”
“Three times.”
