Getting Her Back

That lasts all of five minutes before I pick up the phone at the third buzz, exasperated and curious at the same time.

Did I scare you away?

I swear I’ll make it up to you when I get back.

Or you could make it up to yourself.

What? What does he mean?

What are you talking about?

You’re at work right now?

Of course.

He types for a while, and I do my best to go back to work. But it’s a slow day, I finished my biggest project, and while there are things I can work on, there’s nothing urgent. It’s why I had time to Google Christian in the first place.

I click through a few more articles about Christian, until I can’t stand the sight of his picture. All it makes me want to do is go to that apartment and let him take me over and over again. I shouldn’t want this. I shouldn’t be texting him. I shouldn’t be so friendly. This will just make it harder once I’m pregnant and we don’t see each other anymore. Finally, a buzz.

Are you up for an adventure?

I can’t help myself, the question is too intriguing.

What kind of adventure?

It’s a yes or no question.

Okay, so what if I say no?

Again, I can feel his smirk behind the phone.

Then your day is going to be a lot more boring.

I hesitate, because he’s going to tell me to do something. If I do it, I’m only getting myself in deeper. If I don’t, I’m always going to wonder what it was he wanted me to do. Christian excels at this particular dichotomy. But never have I regretted going on an adventure with him.

We used to go on all sorts of mini adventures. Sometimes it would be to a hidden garden in the city, sometimes it would be to a brand-new restaurant where there was a special drink he wanted to try. Sometimes it would only be an adventure in our minds, and we’d pretend until we fell into each other laughing.

I miss that. I miss that closeness and trust and intimacy that he threw away. I know that it’s probably a bad idea, but I want to go on an adventure, if only to feel that closeness for a few minutes.

Okay.

Okay?

I’ll do it.

He types again.

You always used to tell me about a fancy executive bathroom on the 20th floor. Is that still there?

It is still there. When I’m having a particularly bad day, I sneak up there and use it. It’s just a single room, with a stall, but there’s also a vanity, and a couch, and some chairs. It’s posh and comfortable and perfectly decorated.

Yeah, it is.

Go there, and lock the door.

Why?

You’ll only find out once you’re there.

I glance at my calendar and my email to make sure there’s nothing that I’m going to miss. But it really is slow day, and there’s nothing. Casually, I get up from my desk and head toward the elevator. I don’t take anything with me except for my phone.

It only takes a few minutes to get up to the 20th floor. I have to wait a little while because the bathroom is occupied. I text him quickly.

How long am I going to be in there?

A while. Why?

I’m just wondering if I should get a do not disturb sign or something.

No, don’t do that. A locked door will be enough.

I see the woman come out of the bathroom, and I quickly slip inside, locking the door behind me.

Okay, I’m here.

Send me a picture.

Why?

Because you could actually still be sitting at your desk, and I want to make sure.

I text him an eye roll emoji before snapping a picture of myself in the bathroom.

Happy?

Almost. Strip.

I stare at the phone. He can’t possibly be serious.

Excuse you?

Strip.

Is this adventure going to involve sex?

That was the idea.

I do know what he’s thinking. I can’t just strip down naked in the middle of my workplace. I tell him so.

You’re not in the middle of your workplace. You are in a private bathroom.

Christian, why?

He types for a long time this time. I’m standing in the middle of this bathroom waiting for somebody to knock on the door and kick me out.

Because I think in the past few years you’ve gotten a little bit more uptight. And just because we aren’t having sex tonight, doesn’t mean you can’t get off.

And just because the sex we have feels good, doesn’t mean that that’s the point.

Audrey, used to love sex. You should still love sex regardless of whether or not you want to get pregnant. You’re fucking sexy, and you deserve pleasure. I’m invoking the agreement where you do what I say. Now strip.

I put the phone down on the sink and breathe. He has a point. Since we broke up, I have been a lot more hesitant. A lot of that is due to him. But I think there’s a reason that I miss his little adventures so much. It was the spontaneity, the idea that I didn’t know what was going to happen next. And there was the trust that whatever idea Christian had, it would be good for us both.