"You're drunk. I made allowances."
I went to the bathroom and inserted a new tampon, then I slipped into my black lace nightie.
Ordeal over.
He dragged me to the living room and he put some music on the sound system – something folksy, from the sixties. He said it was The Turtles, You Showed Me, the music dreamy, about falling in love. We sat together on the couch, me on his lap, my arms around his neck. I rested my head in the crook of his neck. I did enjoy what he did to me. I did have an intense orgasm. I felt better, just like he said I would.
"I should go home now," I said, yawning. "I'll call a taxi."
"You're not going home drunk," Drake said, shaking his head. "You'll stay here with me."
"I really shouldn't," I said, frowning. "What if…" and I almost said Dawn's name. "What if this person tries to come by my place and I'm not there?"
"Shh," he said and squeezed me. "No arguments. I bought some eggs and spinach and some nice feta cheese. We'll have what my dad called a 'hangover omelet' in the morning, to fight the one I know you're going to have."
I sighed and gave in. He'd have his way with me one way or the other. He got up and put another album on the old turntable.
"Who is this?" I asked, the music very different from the other songs.
"Nick Drake," he said. "This one's called
River Man. I like it because the guitar's in 5/4 time and in standard tuning. I play it with the band. My dad named me after him."
I listened for a moment. The lyrics were hard to decipher.
"What's it about?"
"Can't say for sure," he said, examining the album cover. "He's dead and didn't say. From what I read, it's supposedly about Wordsworth's poem, 'The Idiot Boy' about a mother with a mentally disabled son, but I think it's about Hesse's book, Siddhartha. It's really just the feel of the piece and the guitar I like."
"There are scratches," I said, noticing the occasional hiss. "You don’t mind? Don't they have re-mastered versions?"
"Sure," he said but shook his head. "Real vinyl enthusiasts like the sound better. It has a certain quality that can't be caught in digital. I don’t mind a few scratches to hear the original. This is a really rare album. I paid a lot for it."
"You don’t like any modern music?"
He sat beside me, one arm going around my shoulders.
"I like some," he said. "But you’re one to talk about liking old music. How old's Gorecki's piece?"
"Seventies."
"Touché,' he said and smiled. "What do you like? Anything modern?"
I shrugged, taking a small sip of my wine. "Some. Mostly classical. Don't ask me why."
"Your absolute favorite piece of music ever? Besides Gorecki?"
I took in a deep breath. "Barber's Adagio."
"That sounds familiar. Where have I heard that?"
"It was in the movie Platoon. I saw it with my dad and it upset him so much. One of the few times I saw him with tears in his eyes."
"Oh, yes." He frowned for a moment. "I remember that movie. My father wouldn’t go. Said the Hollywood capitalists were glorifying war or something." He said nothing for a moment, running his hand over my hair.
"What else? What's next?"
"After Barber?" I said and frowned. "Not much better, I'm afraid. Music from Master and Commander. Fantasia on a Theme by Thomas Tallis by Vaughn Williams."