“No, thanks.”
I meandered down the hall, wearing nothing but Robert’s dress shirt. I didn’t bother turning the lights on. I went straight for the fridge, hoping to find a ginger ale, since sadly I was feeling nauseated after our little romp. I opened the refrigerator door and stared blankly while I absorbed the cool air. When I heard a lock turn, I spun around and saw Will entering the apartment. It was dark, I couldn’t make out the look on his face, but I observed him quietly lean against the back of the door. I squinted my eyes for a better look, but it was useless. He was watching me stand in the light of the refrigerator, wearing nothing but another man’s shirt. I’m pretty sure he knew what was going on. I felt a tinge of resentment toward Will for being gone all the time and leaving me curt notes. I looked back, grabbed a can of whipped cream, and ambled past him, shaking my ass as much as possible. Just as I got to the end of the hall, I heard the front door close. He was gone.
Before Robert could spot it, I tossed the whipped cream into my hamper. I slid into bed and we talked. He told me his marriage had failed because he worked too much. He said he loved being a dad, but didn’t feel very close to Jacob because he didn’t get much time with him. The comment made me sad for him… and Jacob. I wondered how I could ever make it work with Robert if our relationship would only consist of a few insipid encounters each month. Then I let my mind wander to Will. I wished that we could go back to being silly, flirting with each other and playing music together.
After work the next day I came home to another Will note:
DEAR SLUMLORD, JACKSON HAS BEEN WALKED AND FED. I crumbled the note and grabbed Jackson’s leash to take him to the groomers. I decided to have him shaved that day. Shaving a yellow lab is not standard practice but it was hot and Jackson’s fur was all over the apartment. Anyway, he seemed like a happier guy after the shave, even if he looked a little weird. We left the groomers and headed to Tompkins Square Park for a nap on the grassy knoll overlooking the playground. I spotted a few café regulars and hippies from days past lying around on the tiny hill. I leaned back until I was flat in the grass and Jackson curled up and rested his head across my stomach. I closed my eyes to consume the ambient noise of the park that day. I heard the faint song of a harmonica and guitar and thought of Will. There were sweet sounds of children’s voices echoing in the distance, and I thought of Will. I dozed off, thinking of Will.
I only remember the last five seconds of my dream, which included Will’s hands on me. I felt the exquisite pulsing between my legs and sighed, which startled me awake. The feeling below, although out of my control, stopped abruptly. I was disappointed but relieved when I realized I was still in the park. Jackson was nestled beside me, sound asleep. Even though no one was close by, I could still feel my face flush as I thought about the dream. I wanted to remember more, but I couldn’t. It was dusk and eerie in the park. There were fewer people around, so I decided to head home.
As soon as I cracked the door, Jackson went barreling past me and right to Will, who had gotten down on his knees to greet him. “Hey, buddy, what happened to your fur? What did this evil woman do to you?” He continued petting and talking to Jackson. There were a few moments of silence before he looked up and said, “Hey.” He wore a small, sad smile. He was listening to God, but it looked like he didn’t like what he was hearing.
“Hi,” I said softly.
He got up and grabbed his guitar, calling back, “See ya,” as he walked out the door.
That night Jackson had another episode. It was getting to the point where I didn’t even try to move him. By morning he was fine and I couldn’t figure it out. At the café I did some internet research. It seemed like Jackson was having little strokes or quiet seizures. Either way, they were getting worse and I knew I would have to take him to the vet soon. I ordered some chicken from Sam’s to take to Jackson for lunch. While I was waiting for Denise to bring out my order, I heard Will playing “Pictures of You.” I loved the long guitar intro and even though the sound was muffled coming through the ceiling, I could tell Will was playing it perfectly. I grabbed the chicken and ran up to my apartment, hoping to catch some of the song. When I walked in and the sound registered, I stood there with my jaw on the floor. Will’s back was to me and he was singing in a perfect, melodic, and soulful voice. I knew Will wasn’t tone deaf; I had heard him sing a little before, but this wasn’t an impression of the vocals from the original song, it was Will’s amazing voice. He sang the next part with a vulnerable fervor that was so sexy my legs were trembling.
Screamed at the make believe