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He feigns sadness. “You don’t seem very happy to see me,” he says almost mockingly. “I guess I should go…”
He’s trying to get me to call his bluff, but I don’t bite. In the end, he doesn’t care one way or the other. Actually, the more I think about it, the more I realize I have no idea what Tyler does care about. Not that I give a damn, either. It’s just an observation.
I used to see him in passing in the building, coming or going, but not really see him, you know? He was always sort of just there, somewhere in the background. Until one day about seven months after Josh died, he called out for me in the hall. “I got your mail,” he said, handing over a letter. When I looked down, it wasn’t my name on the envelope. It was Josh’s. He studied me carefully, and then he sighed like any display of emotion was more than he’d bargained for. “I’m sorry,” he said. It caught me off guard.
“Everyone dies,” I told him.
“Yes, about that,” he replied. “I’ve given it some thought, and I think you need to get laid.”
I managed a straight face. I perfected it over the years. And yet, it was such an off-the-cuff, unexpected remark that I didn’t quite know what to do with it.
“Well,” he added when I didn’t respond. I studied the letters in Josh’s name instead. He cleared his throat forcing me to meet his eye. “I just wanted to say I’m the man for the job…you know, if you ever need anything.”
“Is there like a secret handshake or something, a smoke signal?” I asked.
“Oh,” his eyes widened. “We have a smart ass,” he said, eventually jutting out his bottom lip. “I like it.”
I shrugged and was just about to turn and be on my merry way.
“Just leave the door ajar,” he called out. “I’m home every night at seven.”
I rolled my eyes, glanced down at the letter, and shook my head. “In your dreams.”
“You aren’t wrong about that,” he said, and then he winked and went back the way he came.
I stood there and wondered how desperate I’d have to be to give in to that sort of offer.
I found out two weeks later when I did accidentally leave my door ajar. I hadn’t meant to do it. Not really. I was in the process of hauling Josh’s old recliner out to the dumpster. I just couldn’t stand to look at the thing anymore. It was too sad. Plus, I’d never much liked it anyway. When I came back from the dumpster, there was Tyler, sitting on my couch, legs propped up on my makeshift coffee table.
“What—”
He held his hands up. “The door was ajar.”
I narrowed my eyes. “It wasn’t an invitation.”
“Where’d you go?”
“The dumpster.”
“Ah. Well,” he sighed. “It isn’t wise to leave your door open. You never know who might come a-knocking.”
I crossed my arms, uncrossed them, and rubbed my face with my hands. I wanted to bury my head in them forever. I wanted him to go, and yet I didn’t want to feel the emptiness of being alone.
“Damn,” he said, standing upright. “What a disappointment.”
I looked up then and met his gaze directly. “Did you bring a condom?”
“Always,” he said nonchalantly, as though he’d been expecting me to say it and then he broke out into a full grin.
I bit my lip as though I wasn’t sure, when that really wasn’t the case at all. I knew how I’d spend the evening if he walked out that door, and I just couldn’t. “Give me thirty seconds and meet me in the bedroom,” I said before making a beeline for the bathroom.
I studied my reflection in the mirror. Gave myself a pep talk. You can do this. It’s not like it was my first foray into meaningless sex. I shouldn’t have needed any of the rah-rah stuff. But it was the first time in almost a decade that any man aside from Josh would see me naked. Still. It’s pretty basic, sex, the way it all works. You rub your bodies together, and with any luck you enjoy it. When you don’t, pretending’s not so hard. So I wasn’t nervous about that. Unless he had a tiny dick, there are only so many ways to fuck it up. Pun intended.
The part I wasn’t sure I could stomach was his touch. It had been seven months since anyone had touched me in an intimate way, and Tyler was a poor substitute at best. But he was living and breathing, in my living room, and willing. I didn’t take him for the type to be attentive but I didn’t know what I’d do if he tried the tender and sweet—let’s act like this is something it isn’t— route. That’s not the side of the coin I like to be on.
I freshened up and then I went into the bedroom and fell back on the bed. I knew what to do. I’d done it so many times before. He came in right on schedule. I made sure the room was dark, the blackout shades closed tight. This way, I couldn’t see it wasn’t Josh. This way I would be better at pretending.
I shouldn’t have been worried. It was mostly over before it started. He came quick that first time. There wasn’t time for other positions or foreplay of any kind, and when he was done I asked him to leave.
