Page 42 of Falling Slowly
“Are you saying this doesn’t count? Like, what happens in Vegas?—”
“What happens in Cozy Creek, stays in Cozy Creek. That town’s not real anyway, right?”
“Itlooksunreal.” She gave me a little nod. A hint of a smile.
“So, none of this really happened,” I concluded. “Let’s go.”
I got out of the pool, trying to ignore the partial still straining the boxer shorts I was using as swimming trunks. I’d have to take care of myself tonight, somehow, in a cabin with no walls or privacy.
We wrapped ourselves in our bathrobes and walked back in silence, Bess visibly shivering. I wanted to touch her, reassure her, but I feared anything I said would only make things worse. If I caught her again at a moment of weakness, she’d regret it that much more in the morning. I felt an inexplicable draw towards her, but I had to be patient. She’d already shared more of herself than I’d learned in the two years working with her. That was huge. I could only hope she didn’t regret that kiss too much. I knew I didn’t. I’d be playing it in my head in vivid detail tonight.
Chapter Seventeen
Bess
Charlie opened the cabin door for me and I stepped in on shaky legs. I didn’t even know if I was shivering from the cold or something else. Everything felt messed up. Upside down. What was I supposed to do now? He’d made it past my every layer of defense and awakened my body, reminding me of everything I lived without. The heavy weight I lived under had lifted for a moment, only to come back down even heavier than before. In my endless daily struggle, I hadn’t thought much about all that I’d lost. Like sex. And now the unfairness of that had punched me in the lungs. I missed it so much. So much that I’d only needed one giant glass of wine to climb on the one guy who was strictly off limits.
“I’m going to need a shower,” Charlie announced, traipsing towards the bathroom. “A long shower.” He cast me a guilty smile over his shoulder.
Why couldn’t I be like that, I wondered. I collapsed into an armchair, staring at the half-empty wine bottle Charlie had lefton the coffee table. If I’d only kept drinking, I might have dulled my prefrontal cortex for long enough to sleep with Charlie. But that much alcohol would have dulled my other senses, too, making the sex kind of pointless. Aging was a hoot. All that awareness, stealing the fun from bad decisions.
With or without wine, I felt too wired to go to sleep. I thought about my trusty vibrator, currently sitting at the bottom of my backpack, buried under everything else. How could I use it?
Resigning myself to a night of unfulfilled desires, I settled into the remarkably cozy chair, rested my head against the soft headrest, and closed my eyes. It was like riding a slowly rotating carousel.
At home, this moment would have been so fleeting. Within five seconds, Celia would climb into my lap, needing something, talking incessantly. She had a lot to say, and I tried to humor her, even when I didn’t fully understand. The girl could recount full episodes of her favorite cartoons and sometimes dreams, which often sounded similar. I was so used to being interrupted and needed that my body automatically tensed at the sound of the bathroom door.
With the wine still blurring my thoughts, it took me a moment to realize nobody would pounce on me. It was just Charlie, taking a shower. I heard the water running. What did he mean by a long shower? How long could it take?
Finally, my addled brain put together two and two. I sat up, my heart pounding. Could it be possible? Was Charlie taking care of himself in a see-through bathroom, a few feet away from me? I listened to the sound of running water, thinking of the way he’d smiled at me. The way he’d elongated the word ‘long’. Our previous activities.
Of course. Charlie wasn’t shy. If he wanted something, he went for it. Why would this be any different?
Sure, this was partly my fault. I’d climbed on his lap and rocked against that hard-on. Could I really blame him for masturbating in the shower? Somehow, having that three-quarter frosted glass as a bathroom wall made things so much more awkward. I couldn’t exactly pretend I didn’t know what was happening. If I stood up, I’d see his head behind the two sheets of glass, right above the edge of the privacy screen.
I wasn’t stupid enough to stand up, was I? The alcohol in my bloodstream loudly disagreed and I pushed myself up from the chair.
There he was, clear as day. Eyes closed, head tilted back, mouth ajar, with water running down his well-formed chest. The blurry image forming behind the privacy sticker gave my imagination everything it needed. Gasping for breath, I stumbled over to the kitchenette, turning on the coffee machine.
I didn’t drink coffee at night. I rarely ate, either, to avoid the pain of not burping, but I had to distract myself. I wasn’t embarrassed, I insisted. There was nothing embarrassing about pleasure, but the way he embraced it, like he embraced every good thing in life, made me sad for myself.
Why couldn’t I kick back and enjoy? Why did I have to be drunk to the point that words escaped me, to act on an impulse? And as soon as the effect of alcohol wore off, my brain turned on, keeping those impulses well and truly in check.
My phone pinged and I lunged for it, desperate for distraction.
Teresa: How’s it going over there? There’s a weird vibe at the office. No sign of Broken Arrow. Guess he’s not turning up at all anymore. Trevor is acting odd. Call me!
I stared at the phone, contemplating on what to say. I couldn’t risk calling. Charlie could hear me. And if Teresa found out Charlie was here with me, there was a chance rumors would start circulating. Could I trust her?
Bess: All good. Rubie Ridge is beautiful. Food is divine. Lots of art exercises and rich people in expensive clothes having a leisurely time. I miss Celia, though.
Teresa: I think George had a conference up there. Sounds like his kind of crowd. Try to enjoy!
My insides twisted. I needed a confidante, and Teresa was the closest thing to a friend I had. I couldn’t keep her completely in the dark.
Bess: Can you keep a secret?
Teresa: Cross my heart and hope to die.
