Page 67 of Voyeur
Me: What horrible person would make you write a paper on a star?
O: A real asshole. A nerdy one.
Me: Sounds amazing to me.
O: Ha. Ha. I’ll call you later. ??
I was irrationally happy with a smiley face at the end of her message. Her sarcastic messages also lifted a weight off my chest.
Oaklyn had given me so much patience. More than I’d ever expected from someone just starting out on their future. And I went and shoved it back in her face, by acting like a jealous, unappreciative dick. The least I could do was give her some in return.
I’d been with women before and some had been more understanding than others. Some had been easier to distract than others. Some hadn’t bothered to stick around when I pushed them away on the first date. And maybe the ones who had been more patient would have given me more if I’d explained, but not one had ever evoked the need to.
Not once, when faced with them leaving, had I considered sharing my secret. Not one had seemed important enough to fight for. Until Oaklyn. When she’d told me to leave or explain that night, it was like my muscles had seized up and refused to move from the spot. There was something about her that called to me, that begged me to stay and not give up. That shouted at me that she was the one. So, I’d decided and never regretted my decision at any moment.
We’d become closer, but still stayed the same. Laughter still filled our conversations, but now there were openly heated glances between us that usually ended up with kissing when we could. I couldn’t get enough of her.
With a smile on my face, and hope I hadn’t fucked everything up, I showered and went to my office to catch up on some work. At times my mind would wander to the previous night, but I tried to push it from my mind.
Each time Voyeur would creep into my thoughts, it led to whole new string of emotions I didn’t want. Instead of my chest expanding, it caved in and made it hard to breathe. My skin burned, but not with desire. My heart thumped in my chest and my breaths came a little faster, but not because I was turned on.
No, if I gave in to those emotions, it would be a repeat of last night.
I’d worked hard over the years to get a grip on the control I’d lost. After all the court cases had been finished and sealed shut, everyone else was able to move on. Yet, I was left spiraling. Fifteen and sixteen had been scary years for me as I learned how alcohol could make me forget, how pot would make the pain easier. How taking my anger out on someone else lessened the pinch in my chest. I’d crashed and burned until my parents had had enough and pushed me back into therapy where I spent the next two years gaining control.
Yet, there I was slipping back again. Letting the visuals of possibilities as she worked torture me.
I knew it was illogical. I’d seen her sheet every night I’d been there before and not once had there been an extreme performance. Rarely anything outside of a solo performance. But maybe those had just been the nights I’d seen it. I rubbed a hand over my face and shook my head, trying to clear it.
I was pulled from my musings when my phone rang. I jumped in my chair, excited at the possibility of hearing Oaklyn on the other line.
“Hello?”
“Hey, Cal.” My excitement ebbed at hearing my mom greet me on the other end of the line. “How are you? I hope I’m not interrupting any exciting plans.”
“Sorry, Mom. Just a fun Saturday grading papers.”
“You need to get out more. Travel.”
“Over a two-day weekend? That’s a bit much,” I said laughing, but my laughter died off when she cleared her throat and hesitated.
“You could…” she paused, probably swallowing like she always did when she was nervous to say something. “You could maybe plan a trip home.”
A buzzing rang in my ear at hearing the wordhome.
“Why?” I asked so low I wondered if she could hear me.
More pausing, but I couldn’t find any words to fill it.
“Sarah is getting married. They wanted you to come.”
“No.” The word came out without thought. Just fell from my lips wrapped in the immediate reaction I had to the thought of going anywhere near them.
Sarah washissister and I’d distanced myself as much as possible from that family. They’d felt horrible. Had no idea any of it was going on and apologized profusely rambling on about family and other nonsense I’d been too angry to hear. Even after he’d died, I still couldn’t bring myself to reconnect with them.
After it had all happened, there had been too much tension for my father to keep as close a relationship with his sister. Somehow, they kept in enough contact to eventually bridge the gap. Just not around me. By that point, my shame and pain had morphed into rage and anger, taking on a life of its own. I may have still been a mess now, but I was better than I was thirteen years ago.
“I’m sorry, Mom. I just can’t.”
