Wet (37 page)

What’s that about?

“Hey, you’ll come to dinner at the folks this Thursday, right?”

She glances over at the clock. “I think I can come. Let me check my schedule.”

She has to check her schedule?

She smooths the sheets over her legs. “Do your parents know?”

“Know what?”

She waves her hand back and forth between us. “You know . . .”

“That I’m in love with you?”

She nods.

“Yes, they do. I’ve got to warn you, now that we’re
together
Ma is really going to amp up the marriage thing.”

There’s that faraway look again.

“Oh.”

“Is something wrong?”

“I guess I’m just feeling overwhelmed. Like everything is moving so fast. You know I haven’t wanted to be in a relationship.”

I feel like she just kicked me in the gut, and I reel back. “Are you saying that hasn’t changed?”

“Not exactly. I love you, truly I do, and the sex . . . well, it’s phenomenal. But that doesn’t mean I want to suddenly set up house and be a full-on couple.”

The blood in my veins goes cold. “What do you want?”

“I don’t know . . .”

“I think you do.”

Looking up at me, her expression is hopeful as she bites her thumbnail. “I was thinking we can be like we’ve always been, but with sex.”

“So friends with benefits?” I grit my teeth.

She smiles like I’m going along with it. “Yeah, like that.”

“I see,” I say as I step out of bed. My stomach is churning and I’m sure as hell not hungry anymore. My instinct to flee that developed during my player days kicks in. It used to be when the girl got clingy after sex I’d get moving. The weird thing now is that the roles are kind of reversed, which actually makes me feel even more uncomfortable.

Searching for my clothes, I find them crumpled up on the floor. I pull on my boxers and shake out the slacks before pulling them on.

“What are you doing?” she asks, with a bewildered look.

“I think I’m going to get going. I really need a shower and clean clothes.”

“You could shower here. We could take one together. I’ve always wanted to try shower sex.”

Wow.
It’s all about the sex. For a brief moment I regret sleeping with her, but then I remember how awesome it was and I get over it.

“I’ll take a rain check,” I say as I button up my shirt.

She gets out of bed, grabs her robe from the closet, and pulls it on.

As she ties her robe shut she looks up at me. “You know, I’m still a little foggy from all the sex and no sleep but can you tell me what’s going on—why you’re upset and rushing out of here? Can we talk this out?”

“I’m just tired,” I lie.

She arches her brow at me. “You can do better than that.”

“What about you? You seem so distant all of a sudden. At daybreak we were in each other’s arms confessing our love for each other, and now a few hours later we’re besties with benefits.”

She sits of the edge of the bed and stares out the window. “Maybe all that ‘couple talk’ you were going on about when we woke up made me uncomfortable.”

“Yeah, I picked up on that. Like it’s the last thing you’d ever want.”

She holds her arms out and her eyes are wide. “But you’ve known since you met me that being part of a regular couple again was the last thing I wanted.”

I can’t argue with her. She’s only speaking the truth.

I nod, and sit down on the opposite side of the bed.

“And you’ve always known what I wanted,” I say.

“True . . . I just hoped . . .”

“As did I,” I admit. “Somehow I thought that if you loved me enough you would decide you wanted more after all.”

“So we were both wrong,” she says with an incredibly sad tone to her voice.

I lean forward and drop my head in my hands. My elbows are digging into my knees as if I’m trying to hold up the weight of the world instead of just my fat head.

A creepy feeling edges up my spine. “Is this about you wanting to still do hook-ups? Because this is making me feel like I’m just another one of your Tinder guys.”

Her mouth drops open and her eyebrows shoot up. “No! How can you even ask that? Besides after last night you’ve ruined me for anyone else.”

Her answer only makes me feel the smallest bit calmer. “Oh, this really sucks,” I groan.

“Can’t we just take things as they come?” She almost sounds like she’s pleading but that doesn’t make me feel any better.

I consider the idea as my forehead presses into the palm of my hand. It’s not the worst idea. If we just act like friends who are in love and have a lot of sex, won’t we eventually evolve into being a couple? Before you know it we could have a couple of kids and a Spanish bungalow in Larchmont Village or Toluca Lake.

Sitting up, I glance over at her. She looks as upset as I feel. I want to go to her, but I know I’d regret it later.

Instead I stand, and pick up my jacket and shoes before clearing my throat.

“Look, we’re both exhausted and overwhelmed. I think we both need some time to think about things.”

“Time?” Elle asks, looking scared. “I don’t like the sound of that.”

I let out a sigh. “I know. I don’t like it either. Here’s the thing, after two long years of abstinence and those crazy meetings, two years of occasional dates with women who didn’t excite me at all, I’ve finally found what I want and I’m not settling for less. I want
you
, Elle.”

“I want you too,” she replies. Her voice sounds like she’s holding back tears.

I shake my head. “You know what I’m about. I want it all . . . including the emotional intimacy and connection. I want to know that you’re my future. This is a hell of a lot more than sex to me and I can’t believe that’s all this is to you.”

Her voice gets quiet. “And if I can’t be who you want me to be, that’s it for us?”

I consider what she’s asked carefully before I finally nod and look over at her with sad eyes. “It just wouldn’t make sense, if what we want is so fundamentally different.”

“No,” she whispers. I notice there are tears in her eyes but as much as I want to, this time I can’t be the one to dry them.

I shake my head. “Damn love.”

“What do you mean?”

“Everything would be easier if I hadn’t fallen in love with you. Now I’m getting why all the tragic songs are about how love hurts.”

“Don’t say that, Paul. Love should be beautiful.”

I’m so tense my jaw locks. I’m getting frustrated and mad, which makes me feel stubborn. “It’s not so beautiful right now, is it?”

She casts her gaze downward. “I don’t know what to say.”

“Look, let’s just think about things . . . take some time, okay?”

Her whole face is drawn and her expression forlorn. “And then what?”

“We can agree right here that if one of us has a change of heart about the bigger picture we’ll let the other know.”

I sound more positive than I feel. I’m getting dizzy the longer I sit here and let the magic we had last night be swept aside by today’s new reality.

She lets out a ragged sigh. “It’s not going to happen, Paul. You’re not going to suddenly decide that I’m worth letting go of your big dreams of a
together
wife who wants a big family.”

“It doesn’t have to be a big family. And I’m not looking for, what did you say once . . .
a complacent wifey
. I want
you
but you have to be more than a bestie with benefits. I need a lot more than that.”

She wipes off her tears with her robe sleeve but I can see from her wary look that she isn’t buying it. “I understand that you need more,” she whispers.

“I do,” I say.

“I wish I had it to give. I feel hopeless about that kind of love. And even if I could be that intimate it doesn’t change the facts. This seems to be my history and my destiny. I’ve never gotten what I wanted or needed in a relationship, and it may be because I don’t deserve it. Maybe this is just how it’s going to be for me.”

Why can’t she believe in me and that things could be different with us?

I think what hurts the most is knowing that she actually believes what she just said. Sometimes you have to fight for what you deserve, but what can I do if she doesn’t think she deserves to be loved for who she is? How can I get her to see in herself what I do?

I walk over to her and pull her into my arms. Holding her tight, I kiss the top of her head as I silently hope that she’ll come to believe that she can be loved completely—not in fragments that if pieced together would complete the puzzle that is Elle. She
is
more, and I’m willing to wait some time for her to realize that we’re worth fighting for. I don’t want to settle for a lesser version of who she can be.

I know in life you have to take a stand for what your true beliefs are, but when I walk out of this house my heart will be blown apart by not holding onto her.

“I’ve got to go,” I whisper.

She nods and steps back, staring at the ground. She doesn’t even look up at me when I move away, and turn to leave. I glance back one last time before I pass through the bedroom door. I see tears and I see her arms wrapped tightly across her chest like she’s holding herself together, but I don’t see my Elle that I held last night. And I know as I walk out that door and get in my car that I never may again.

I’m about two days into this “let’s think about things” break/break-up when I start to wonder if it was all some kind of bullshit drama that people in love do just to keep each other on their toes.

I can’t sleep and I can barely eat, but hot damn, I sure as hell am holding onto my pride like a big man, waiting for my little woman to come to her senses. It’s all starting to feel surreal and ridiculous. I start questioning everything . . . like maybe I’m okay not having a bunch of kids and instead settling for a semi-girlfriend who loves sex as much as I do.

But then I see one of those commercials where the goofy dad is trying to change the baby’s diaper while the mother is trying to wrangle the other kids into the bath, and the dog is barking . . . that family chaos thing that commercials make look better than it ever is in real life.

In the final shot the family is all cuddled together on their couch appearing content, and he and his wife give each other this look. It feels intimate and full of the kind of love I imagine I’d feel with my wife, the mother of my children.

I know my logic of an insurance company commercial affecting my life choices may be misguided but I can’t help it. That final image of the dad surrounded by his children and adoring wife reminds me I’m never going to stop wanting that kind of life.

Wednesday I call my parent’s place to tell them I won’t be over Thursday night. Ma picks up.

“Why aren’t coming for dinner, Paulie? I was going to try Elle’s lasagna recipe you went on about. I was hoping you’d bring her.”

“Well Elle’s kind of the reason.”

“What do you mean? What’s wrong?”

This is harder than I thought. I swallow back my frustration. “It’s just that I’m not seeing Elle for a while.”

“Why in the world not? You two are such close friends. You know how much we love her.”

I feel awkward. There’s no easy way to break this to Ma.

“Yeah, about that close friends thing . . . Remember that we were going to her friend’s wedding?”

“Yes.”

“Well it was one of those nights, and one thing led to another . . .”

“Oh my. Frankly I’m not surprised. So how does a couple go from that to not seeing each other anymore?”

“I don’t know, Ma. I’m still kind of baffled myself over it.”

“You were attentive, yes? You better say yes, or I’ll smack you.”

“Of course I was. It wasn’t being intimate—it all went to hell when I told her I was in love with her.”

“What do you mean? That doesn’t make any sense. That should’ve made everything even better.”

“I know. I’m still trying to figure it out. She says it’s not that she doesn’t care about me, she does . . . but she doesn’t think she’s meant to be in a relationship.”

Ma is eerily quiet.

“You still there?”

“I’m here. So that’s what she said?”

“Yes.”

Ma lets out a long sigh. “Poor lass.”

“You feel bad for
her
?”