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I settle on a DVD and hand it to him.
“I can't believe you don't keep this with you in the apartment.”
“I'd never get anything done,” he says, and he puts in a disc of Law and Order. I haven't seen enough to know what season it is. I sit on the couch, resting my head on his shoulder. Luke puts his arm around me. And we sit there, watching detectives and lawyers solve m
urder after murder. The DA wins all his cases.
We talk about nothing in particular. Luke explains the show to me—one detective is a recovering alcoholic, another is a good catholic boy—with such enthusiasm I think he's going to wake up the neighbors. We laugh at the cheesy one-liners and high-five every time a judge answers an objection with a smart-ass comment. I'll allow it, but watch yourself, McCoy. I have never seen him like this, so happy, so willing to go along with something. It is a nice change of pace for our usual arguments over why Ryan is wrong for me. Or why I need to stop resisting my better judgment and fall headfirst into our affair.
We spend the entire morning watching. By the time the sun rises, half a dozen killers have faced justice, and only one has escaped with a not guilty verdict. I fall asleep for a while, my head on Luke's lap, and wake to the thud-thud of another episode, to Luke's fingers stroking my hair. It is so soft and sweet and comfortable, I never want to leave.
But I don't have much of a choice.
“Come on, I'll make you breakfast,” he says.
“You have food?”
“Coffee. You like coffee, right?”
“I can make it at home.”
He frowns. “How about I pick something up?”
“Ryan is going to be so mad already—”
“We aren't talking about him,” Luke says.
“Fine,” I say, “but I'm not drinking anything freeze dried or anything from a gas station.”
“What do you want?” he asks, and I give him the address of a cafe a few blocks away. I write down my order. My usual oatmeal and a double-latte with almond milk and two packets of honey. I try not to imagine all the alternative uses for honey.
Luke brushes his teeth and changes his outfit. He offers me a spare toothbrush. I try to entertain myself after he leaves, but I find myself wandering into each room. His bedroom is mostly untouched. A queen bed. They probably had sex here a few dozen times at least. Half the closet is women's clothes—suits and silk blouses. I can only imagine they're Samantha's. I dig through the drawers. One is hers. Nothing but lacy unmentionables. None of that cotton stuff I usually wear.
My heart beats faster. I try to calm down. This is nothing. It doesn't mean anything. It doesn't mean he still loves her. It doesn't mean he still needs her. It means he's slow to clean out his place. It means he's slow to get rid of things. It's not like I'm any better.
There's an office with two desks. Neither seems to get much use. They are identical factory made plastic things, down to the matching gray chairs. One desk is empty except for a few scattered pieces of paper. The other is dotted with files, pens, and an empty spot where a laptop belongs. Behind a layer of dust, I see feminine decorations. Silk flowers. A girly pen holder. A picture of Luke and Samantha in an adorable frame. Really, who prints pictures nowadays? Isn't digital good enough?
I shake my head and let myself into the backyard. The sun is low in the sky, but its light reflects the little waves of the aqua pool. I close my eyes and try to recall the first kiss we shared, but I can't picture anything except Luke and Samantha, naked, their bodies writhing in the water.
Ugh. I was doing so well.
I roll up my jeans and sit on the concrete. The water moves in such a soft, steady rhythm, hitting the sides of the pool over and over again. I close my eyes and let the breeze blow through my hair. But it's no good. All I can see is Luke and Samantha, sharing their lives as equals, deeply in love.
That will never be us.
I pull my shirt over my head and use it as a pillow as I lie down. The concrete is hard and the shirt is awful padding. I feel the stretch in my stomach. I'm behind on my workouts and my body is a tired mess from my lack of sleep.
That's what you get for staying up all night trying to maintain Luke's attention.
I dip my toes in the pool. I see Luke and Samantha, in the pool. This time, they are not fucking. No, they swim around, splashing and pulling at each other’s swimsuits. She wears something classy. That navy bikini he offered me. They chase each other around the pool. Really, it's Luke chasing her, until he catches her and wraps his arms around her.
I scrape my foot against the rough edge of the pool. I see them, in their office, laughing during a break. She takes off her glasses—she thinks they make her look like a librarian, but he loves them—and rubs her temples. He gets up from his computer to kiss her. She swats him playfully. Now isn't the time, but he insists. And how can she say no to those big, brown eyes? She is working too hard. She needs a break. And he knows just how to get her mind off work. He pulls her to the edge of the chair, his hands sneaking up her legs.
I slide my legs into the pool, water soaking my rolled-up jeans, making them instantly heavy. I see them on the couch. It's a lazy Sunday. Luke watches TV, probably some crime drama, in his boxers and one of those white V-necks. Samantha steps out of the office. He pulls her onto the couch, onto his lap. She insists, once again, she has to work, but he presses his arms around her, and her objections cease. They don't fuck. No, they lie like that for hours, just like us. Then, he makes her dinner. And they take a walk, holding hands and stepping in unison. He worries she is working too hard. She calls him a hypocrite. It's playful. And, as soon as he opens the door, they kiss their way to the bedroom and spend half the night not sleeping.
And, the rest, they spend with their bodies pressed together, lungs and hearts moving in unison. He plays with the ring on her finger. He kisses her neck. He tells her he loves her. And everything is beautiful, every day, for so long. They are in love. They are partners. They are equals.
And somehow, something goes wrong, all the loves fades, Samantha slips and Luke isn't strong enough to catch her.
