I knew what I wanted to say.
Shall I compare thee to a summer's day?
Thou art more lovely and more temperate:
Rough winds do shake the darling buds of May
Then more stuff about how summer isn’t long enough and it’s hot and shitty sometimes
And then the thing I wanted to say in the car
But thy eternal summer shall not fade
Nor lose possession of that fair thou owest;
Some other stuff I forget…So long as men can breathe or eyes can see: So long lives this and this gives life to thee
That’s the nicest thing. You’re going to spoil me
A guy’s gotta do what a guy’s gotta do. I’m driving, so we’ll talk later
I shut off the phone and pulled away. The rain let up on the way east. Los Angeles rain always shuts off like a faucet when the sun comes up. When I got home, I went out front. The air was usually clear after a rain, and I could see all the way to San Pedro.
Which was fine.
What wasn’t fine was what the rain had done to the slope in my south-facing yard. It slid downward. The steps were covered in mud, and when I say covered, I didn’t mean it was messy. I meant the steps would have to be excavated by a crack team of archaeologists to prove they ever existed.
Cancel Youder.
Where would we work out? What hill would we climb? I was too tired to deal with another change. I was going to bed for a few hours, then I’d cope with the general state of collapse.
And her.
The one thing that wasn’t collapsing. She was unsustainable but necessary. I’d given her flowers and poetry. Another break in my routine. Another mistake. But I wanted her to feel good. Compulsively almost. I couldn’t help but build her up even if I knew I’d fail her.
The sheets smelled like her. I got five hours.
twenty-two
Vivian
Back to the coffee shop on Olympic. I didn’t even have to ask Francine where to meet anymore. When I’d called her at the crack of dawn and said I’d just gotten back from Dash’s place, she said she’d meet me in ten minutes and hung up.
It had taken her thirty minutes to get there, but I never worried that she was bailing on me or that I hadn’t identified the meeting place. The coffee shop with the black umbrellas out front and no name.
She came back with a latte for herself and an espresso for me and stacked our phones behind the napkin holder to let me know we weren’t to be interrupted. Leaning forward in her chair as if she wanted to open my head and peer in, she said, “Tell me everything.”
“Okay, so he came to the house—”
“Did you do it? Go all the way? Home run? Do the deed?”
“No, but… other things.”
“Skip to those. Then work back.”
Francine also ate dessert first whenever possible. She didn’t believe in postponing joy. So I started at the end and worked backward as best as I could. It wasn’t easy.
“He shaved you? Why? God, please say he’s not another Carl with the hang-ups.”
“No, it was me. I wanted him to.”
“Really? And? I’ve never let a guy do that before.”
I shifted in my seat. “It was fine but…” I dropped my voice and got as close to her as the table would allow. “The rubbing. It’s like I can feel everything. I’m so aware of it.”
“Aware of what? Your *?”
“Shh.” I looked around. The place was dead, but there were photographs of people with ears behind me. “Jesus, Francine!”
“Totally normal,” she whispered. “You’re going to be horny all the time now.”
“You didn’t tell me.”
“You didn’t ask.”
A bleeping rendition of “Take Me Out to the Ballgame” came from behind the napkin holder.
“Are you serious?” Francine asked. “You gave him his own ringtone already?”
“He put it in this morning.”
I wasn’t supposed to take the call, but I reached behind the chrome box and grabbed the phones then passed Francine hers and tapped the green circle on mine. “Hello.”
“Hey, sweetapple. Did I wake you?”
“No, I’m having coffee with a friend.”
Francine smirked at me and bit her lower lip then fanned herself with her hand as if she knew how his voice made me feel.
“I can still taste you,” he said.
Down below, where sensitive tissue had direct contact with fresh underwear, I went on high alert. I wanted him to taste me again. Now.
Francine watched me over the rim of her coffee cup, half smiling.
“I’m with a friend,” I repeated because my not-aloneness was the second most relevant thing on my mind.
“When can I see you today?”
I didn’t answer right away. Dad and I were going to clean the gutters then have dinner. I was free at some point, potentially, but though my body wanted to drop everything and see him, my head didn’t want to be too available. “Today? I don’t—”
“I want to get inside you,” he said before I could finish.
I clammed up. My body started vibrating, and the shiver between my legs didn’t allow me to speak.