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Roger
Natalie offers to help with the dishes.
“No, no,” I tell her. “I’ve got it. Go and relax. Enjoy the rest of the wine.”
She lingers a moment, giving me a look I can’t quite read. She’s been giving me a lot of those lately, then she heads out of the kitchen. I get to work rinsing off the dishes before putting them in the machine.
It’s been a week. Things have been going great. Well, Ithinkthey’re going great. As far asIcan tell anyway.
For starters, we’ve had dinner together every night. I’ve surprised her with a new cuisine each time, from a couple of my favorite places. Places that don’t evendotake-out. But that’s one of the privileges I’ve accrued with my money and a generous spirit.
I’ve also stayed over at her place every night this week, with no sex involved. We just kind of crawl into bed and fall asleep, sort of cuddling together. It’s definitely a new experience for me. I’m pretty sure the last time I slept in bed next to a woman I didn’t have sex with was… well… maybe when I was a kid and my mom let me get in bed with her after a nightmare.
What I’m used to is the, to put it crudely, ‘wham-bam-thank-you-ma’am’ experience. Sex and then bolt. It’s not even alwaysmedoing the leaving, either. Trust me, I’ve been with plenty of ladies who’ve barely finished an orgasm before the clothes are on and the car is called to pick them up.
Because, you see, getting out early is the best way to avoid hurt feelings, or any sort of feelings really. Because, frankly,anyfeelings generally lead tohurtfeelings sooner or later.
So, yeah, being in bed with her just to be in bed and go to sleep – no sex – is something else.
I kinda like it.
“You doing okay in there?” Natalie calls from the other room.
“Almost done,” I call back cheerfully.
I’ve only been at it a minute. But that uneasiness is something I’ve felt creeping up on her the last few days. Sometimes, I can almost hear the time bomb ticking inside her. The time limit of our agreement is rapidly drawing to a close. She’s started bringing up the fact in roundabout ways.
“Time’s going by quick, huh?”
“I was looking at my calendar… almost the end of the month…”
That kind of thing.
I get it. She doesn’t want to live in limbo forever. She wants to know what’s going to happen when the ‘terms’ of our deal are up. Is she sticking around? Is she going out on the streets?
She’s been having a devil of a time getting a new job. I imagine her savings are rapidly dwindling, even with her staying here rent-free.
We’ve reached a put-up-or-shut-up moment, I realize. I let the water drip off the last plate, set it in the dishwasher, close it, then turn it on, like a husband or something.
Jesus, I’m fuckingdomesticated. Buddy would say ‘whipped’. But Buddy’s not here. Natalie is.
So, fuck it.
“Hey,” I say, stepping out of the kitchen as I towel off my hands. She’s sitting on the couch, shoes off, legs up. She’s got a glass of wine in her hands, but she’s clearly been staring into space. Maybe thinking about the same things I’ve been thinking about?
I lean against the doorway into the kitchen, tossing the towel over my shoulder and keeping things casual.
“I’ve been thinking,” I pause for a moment to give her the opportunity to make a jab at my expense. She doesn’t. Things reallyareapproaching a tipping point. “And what I was thinking,” I go on, “is that maybe you should stay.”
She cocks an eyebrow. “Maybe?”
“Yeah. No. I mean, definitely. You should stay. Stay on. Like this. Like we’ve been doing.”
Oh, yeah, Roger,supercasual.
Natalie looks into her wine glass a moment. I get it. It’s a big deal. People have a hard time being accepted and cared for, so —
“No,” she says.
