It feels a bit awkward standing here by myself while I nurse my one and only beer. A few of the players make small talk with me, introduce me to their girlfriends and wives. There are plenty of puck bunnies roaming around, and I suspect that’s par for the course at any Cold Fury party. But for the most part, I’m left to my own devices, and that’s fine by me. My days of being the center of attention—the life of the party—are well and truly over. I learned in the hardest of ways the terrible things that can happen when you party to extremes and don’t consider consequences.
“Want another beer?” I hear from my left and turn to find Todd walking toward me with a fresh bottle. My inclination is to say no, but I only have one warm swallow left in my bottle, so I down it with a grimace and accept the offer from Todd. He comes to stand beside me, our shoulders brushing against each other.
Ordinarily, if we were out together, Todd would have his arm around my waist, and I would lean into him for warmth and security, but there’s a definite void between us tonight, which is completely my fault. This “romantic” weekend that Todd envisioned hasn’t happened so far and he’s not been happy about it.
The weekend started off good when I picked Todd up at the airport. It was refreshing seeing him, face all glowing with adoration as he opened his arms to me. For a brief moment, I allowed myself to be held, and I actually felt a slight measure of peace.
Then the weekend quickly started going to hell when we got to the apartment and Hawke was there. I really need to keep track of my father’s social agenda a little better so I can quit being surprised by his presence at our home. It was like a proverbial power punch to my gut when I saw him on our couch, looking like he belonged there. When he unfolded that massive frame from the couch, looking unbearably sexy in faded jeans and a ratty T-shirt, I felt something shift inside of me that I think has tarnished my feelings for Todd.
It was a realization, maybe a recognition, of something that Hawke does to me that I believe no other man will ever do. I can’t name it. I can’t place it other than it resides deep within me. The feeling came along much like an epiphany that Hawke owns a piece of me that will never be touched by another man. I’m not sure I recognized it before with Todd, but in that singular moment when I saw Hawke standing up from the couch in my apartment, I realized that something has been lacking in my feelings for Todd and in every other relationship—long or short—that I’d been in for the past seven years.
Todd’s weekend continued to get worse because I insisted we stay at the apartment rather than get a hotel as Todd suggested. I told him I was worried about leaving my dad alone, and while that is in fact true, it’s also misleading, because my dad can certainly stay alone by himself for a weekend. Frustrations grew that evening when we finally crawled into my bed. Todd, ever formal and wearing a T-shirt and pajama bottoms, tried to make a move on me.
Don’t get me wrong. Todd and I have a nice and healthy sexual relationship. Or we did when I lived back in Columbus. It was natural, safe, and, well…um, comfortable, I guess. I was attracted to him, body and mind. I’m absolutely certain of it.
But when he kissed me that night, slipping his tongue in my mouth, my instinct was to push away rather than to receive and reciprocate. So I forced myself to let him kiss me for a moment, but it wasn’t working. I couldn’t make the connection, so I gently disengaged and told him the mother of all blatant lies to get out of sex.
“I’m sorry, honey, but I started my period this morning,” I whispered in the dark.
And Todd did exactly as I suspected. He was frustrated, no doubt, and that was evidenced by the deep sigh he let out, but he still pulled me into his arms and whispered with his lips against my hair, “It’s okay.”
With a dash of bitterness and a whole lot of sadness, I realized Hawke would have never capitulated that easily. He never cared if I was on my period and if he didn’t care, I didn’t care. We had no walls between us, and if Hawke were lying in bed with me, nothing would have stopped him from fucking me. He would have fucked me like a champion and then he would have carted me into the shower straight after to get us both cleaned up. He was wild, raw, and uninhibited. Nothing would keep him away from what he wanted, and at that time in our lives, Hawke wanted me more than anything.
So last night I lay there, in another man’s arms, and I thought about Hawke.
I tried to remember every detail of our four years of happiness. I squirmed a little as I remembered our times in bed together. I thought about him all damn night and didn’t get a wink of sleep. I tossed and turned, listened to Todd’s soft snores, and I felt miserable for letting him down. I felt guilty for allowing a memory to twist my feelings for him, and it made me angry at myself.
Angry at Hawke too.
“You know, this weekend is kind of sucking for me,” Todd says quietly.
While it’s loud out here between the music and the chatter of dozens of partiers, I hear him clearly. No, I more than hear him…I feel the condemnation in his words.