When he was finished, he leaned down and put his mouth to my ear and whispered: “Say it again.”
Instinctively, I knew what he meant.
“You own me, Vic.”
I didn’t fall asleep. I was exhausted, but I didn't fall asleep. A night picking glass out of your epidermis followed by a mind-blowing, life-altering orgasm will make you tired. Still, I couldn't sleep, not with Vic in my bed. My entire body was a live wire, like I'd stuck my finger into an electrical socket.
We hadn’t done anything else. Vic just held me, stroking my hair and whispering delicious things. He was such an enigma: one minute a tornado and the next a quiet, tropical ocean.
“This doesn't change anything,” Vic said into my room.
I nearly groaned. Of course not, why would intimacy change anything? Why would something so raw and real, that had made me feel like my skin had been peeled off and my viscera and muscles exposed to the world, change anything? Why would an event so transcendental that I could swear we became one, change anything?
His words may as well have been an echo; they were so noncommittal and empty. I sighed into his chest. For someone who appeared so together, he really was a basket case.
“Yes, it does Vic,” I grumbled.
“Lenny, I still can't—”
I rolled off the bed and stood up; it was my turn to stand over him. Damn, he was gorgeous. It's not fair that someone is that gorgeous. But then, that's why he has all his other hang-ups. If he was gorgeous and well-rounded, well, the universe would simply implode.
“Whatever you can or can't do, Vic,” I said, refusing to be capitulated by his eyes, “we're changed. We can't go back, and if you won't let us go forward, then,” I shrugged, “I guess this is it.”
Wow, I sounded so adult. Too bad inside I'm crying like a baby. I need him to leave, like right now, so my awesome outward composure isn't betrayed by my whimpering and withering insides.
I need him to leave so I can eat ice cream and watch Grey's Anatomy while I compare myself to Cristina. Yeah, I'm Cristina; I don't need a man.
I can't do any of this if he stays.
I desperately need Vic, and Vic won't let me have him. So, I just need him to leave.
Vic reached out and circled his fingers around my wrist. He stared up at me, his eyes betraying nothing.
I stood motionless at the side of the bed; I was counting my heartbeats, willing myself to not fall off the edge of the cliff I teetered on.
. . . forty-two Mississippi, forty-three Mississippi, forty—.
Vic released my wrist.
I began to shiver. You never know how much you miss a person's warmth until they stop giving it to you. It wasn't just any person either, it was Vic. Vic whispering me sweet nothings, Vic lighting my body up like a Christmas tree, Vic . . .
Without a single word, he simply got up and left.
I felt like I should call after him. I needed to say something, anything, to fix the rift that had developed between us, but I knew nothing would ever fix it. There was a chasm the size of the Mariana Trench between us now. So, some things were better left unsaid. I think Vic knew that too.
“Did you have a good day off?” My coworker Lissie asked.
I nodded, smiling. You know when a lie is just too hard to say? Like, it literally takes too much of your soul to give voice to the lie? After I tried to kill myself, people would ask how I was doing, people who didn't know I had attempted suicide. They were just asking in a general how ya' doin' kind of way, and I couldn't very well respond, “Oh, I'm well, just trying not to off myself with a razor blade. You know, the usual.” So instead, I would just nod and pass by.
That feeling, that it's too much for my soul, is what I felt when Lissie asked me. What happened with Vic yesterday morning had rocked me to my core, and I was still trying to figure it out. I nodded at Lissie and continued to my cubicle. Unfortunately, Bethany saw me before I could escape to my cubicle and called me into her office.
“Halloween is in three weeks.”
I love people who state the obvious (not really) and my boss is no exception. She called me into her office, told me to sit down, and said the obvious. The gravity with which she spoke to me should be reserved only for the doctor telling me I have leukemia. Add in her gray stare and pinched lips and I almost cracked up.
I cleared my throat to rid myself of the laughter trying to get out, and waited for her to continue. She couldn't have really called me into say that Halloween was in three weeks. I mean, I do own a calendar. Well, I own a smartphone, which has a calendar on it.
“Lennox,” Bethany cocked her head slightly, “you may feel as if you haven't received much responsibility since you started working here.” Duh! That was an understatement.