A Battle Raging (12 page)

"OK, we're gonna play little games here?"
Jada asked in her no-nonsense, mama-play-acting voice.

Maya took a deep breath. They say confession is good for the soul. And her soul
definitely needed some cleansing.

"I sort
of fucked my student yesterday." There, she'd said it.

"Whaaa? Girl, naw
, you didn't!" Jada's mouth formed a perfect "O" before breaking into a small grin that began broadening.

Maya wanted to slap that smile off her sister's face.

"Do tell, do tell! Which student? Is he fine, was he good? What, what, what!"

"The troublemaker I told you about," she admitted.

The smile died, confusion taking its place.

"Wait a minute,
you mean the one in the wheelchair?"

Maya nodded.

"OK, I'm stumped here. How the hell do you have sex with someone in a wheelchair? First of all, he's in a wheelchair which means there's been some damage somewhere. Don't tell me his thing still works."

"Well, I don't know how well it works…"

"What does that mean? Did you have sex with him or not?"

"Yes…and no…"

"You're getting me more confused here."

"We didn't go all the way, you know, but we did…things…you know fingers and mouth…"

Jada held up a hand. "OK, OK. Uhm, so you played doctor…or oral surgeon…whatever you want to call it."

"It's more complicated than that," Maya said.

"I'd think so. Was it…you know…at least good, you know since it wasn't really sex and you couldn't really get off?" Jada's face was somewhat scrunched, not trying to hide her distaste.

"Oh, I came,
believe me. Several times actually."

"Wow," Jada said with quiet wonder.
"And a boy in a wheelchair can get you off like that? Just wow."

"Yep."

"I guess I have to widen my scope to include the vertically impaired." The smile was creeping back.

"Just tell, me how did this all come about and where?"

Maya recounted as succinctly as she could what had occurred the previous afternoon, glossing over many of the more intimate details. But Jada wasn't having it and with some needling, prodding, and threats, got a blow-by-blow account.

"So what you're saying is he
gave you full service and all you gave him was a hand job. Kind of lazy there, sis. You could've you know, at least tooted the horn."

"He seemed satisfied
enough," Maya said somewhat indignantly, but she was starting to feel guilty that maybe their encounter had been a little one-sided. But how was she to know what to do to get him off? Even with his instructions, she really couldn't be sure that she'd satisfied him, especially since he had hardly ejaculated.

Maya
gave her head a quick shake.

"Let's get this dinner done. Too much gabbing."
She turned on the burner, began moving the pat of butter around the skillet with a spoon.

Jada seemed contemplative.

"Maya, what made you change your mind about him? You know, since he got on your last nerve and now you two, if not lovey dovey, are definitely oochey coochey."

The butter was melting and beginning to sizzle. And Maya thought about her sister's question.

"I guess because I saw something there," she said thoughtfully as she placed the chicken breasts in the skillet. "Even when he was being a shit, I realized that there was something deep and painful going on with him, which kind of explained the dickedness. But he can be charming when he wants. And it helps that he's fine as hell."

"Yeah, good looks
and charm tend to be real panty tuggers, especially with that tortured soul shtick going on." Jada conceded. "Well, at least you're getting some, finally, which is more than what's been happening in all these months since Bryan dumped you."

"He didn't dump me, I dumped him," Maya said with finality.

"OK, whatever, but wait a minute. What happened to that lawyer you went on that date with a couple of weeks ago? The one who knows me but I can't remember him? You said you had a good time so are you going to see him again?"

Jules had called her that following day but sh
e'd basically blown him off…nicely though. There just wasn't anything there. Especially since she'd been thinking about Zach much of the rest of their evening together. Dining with one man while thinking about another…never good.

He'd taken the brush off without any bluster, just obvious regret.

She remembered his voice as he said, "Well, I guess if you don't feel it, you don't feel it. But for what it's worth, I had a very good time and would like to do it again, if you ever change your mind. You always have my number and you can be sure I'll answer."

She had imagined his melting
ly chocolate face and full lips, remembered his wit and large smile, and had felt a pang of conscience. But that pang had lasted only a few seconds.

"It just wasn't happening," she finally answered Jada.

"And this guy, Mr. tortured soul, he is happening?"

Maya turned
over the chicken with a spatula to even the browning, poured in the sliced mushrooms, sherry and wine, sautéed the mixture in the butter. She remained silent watching the juices of the chicken simmer, the pink of the liquid turning clear. The smell infused the kitchen.

"Yes," she finally said. "He's happening."

"OK, then," Jada said, finally conceding. They poured some Zinfandel Blush into glasses and sipped leisurely as they prepared the side dishes of potatoes and green beans.

###

"OK, Zach, tell us what's happening with you," Dr. Madison directed from his seat at the head of the circle.

Zach tried to stop the thrumming of his finger against his thigh, a nervous habit. Yet, what did he have to be nervous about? His life was his own, not subject to public or psychological scrutiny. Well, at least not all of it anyway.

Especially not Maya. They didn't have a right to her. She was a part of him he could never divulge. Not from shame but from propriety. She was part of his life that was no one else's business.

Having been silent in his musing, Zach was
treated to another question.

"So how are the art lessons coming along?" the doctor inquired, his face more contemplative.

"They're coming along fine," was all Zach would offer.

"
Hmm, I'm curious about your reticence, Zach. Not that I expect you to divulge every minute of your sessions, but I do want to know if the process has in any way ameliorated that dark part of you."

Zach forced back a smile.

"Yes, doctor. Just using my hands has opened up…things…for me. It's almost a give and take between the teacher and me. We've come to an…understanding. Almost like synergy, you can say."

The doctor smiled. "Good, good. And how are other parts of your life go
ing?"

"They're looking up, Doc."

"OK, so that's all we're going to get from you today? Well, I know better to press you further so we'll just cut this short."

"What can I say, there's nothing really more to tell," Zach said with a shrug.

But he could admit to himself that since he and Maya had gotten together just two days ago, that dark cloud he'd been existing under had dispersed somewhat. And no nightmares in those succeeding nights. That was something, too. So, maybe all he needed was a good lay. Hopefully there would be more to come.

The doctor turned to Jerry, who'd been mumbling to himself.

"OK, Jerry, what's going on with you?"

Jerry was all too happy to tell how miserable he was. It never changed with this dude.

After Jerry finished, two other patients, Artie and Melvin, had their turns and then the session was over. Zach let the others precede him out the office and he waited a minute before wheeling to a secluded section of the floor's hallway. He retrieved his cell phone from his pocket and dialed the number she'd given him.

She'd
also given him her weekly schedule, so he knew that right now she was finishing up her morning class at the university.

He couldn't help the knot in his stomach
as the connection went through. It was like being a teenager again. He'd had to fight his impulse yesterday to call; he'd had to tell himself to play it cool.

But he didn't want "cool" to dip into "cold." And he didn't want to wait until Saturday evening to see her.

"Yes, Maya here," she said over the phone. Obviously she didn't recognize his number. He had trouble swallowing just hearing her voice.

"Maya, it's uhm…Zach. I
won't keep you long. I was just thinking about you and me doing something later on today. Or tomorrow if you want."

For a second, his stomach dropped at the audible pause. But then, "I can't tonight or tomorrow. But Wednesday, I can do something late afternoon. So what did you have in mind?"

He smiled to himself, then told her. After he hung up, he felt that cloud that hung over him dissipate even more as the rays of a sunshine settled in his soul.

The
sculptures interspersing Olympic Park had fascinated Maya since the park's inception in 2007. The whole park was a magnificent transformation from an original industrial site and subsequent contaminated brown field into one of the most original green spaces in the States. Equally fascinating were the distinct gardens in tracts representing distinctive landscapes. These tracts, referred to as precincts, presented archetypical settings usually found in the Pacific Northwest.

Of the precincts,
Zach had chosen the Ketcham Families grove that was basically a forest of aspens surrounded by an undergrowth of irises and currants. One of the featured sculptures in the grove was Roy McMakin's Love & Loss, a multimedia exhibit made up of benches spelling out the words "LOVE" and "LOSS." A tree in the midst of the benches provided the "V" for the "LOVE" and adjacent to the benches stood a pole topped by a red neon ampersand sign. This was one of the few sculptures specifically commissioned for the park.

Maya sat down
on one of the "S" benches, watching the afternoon wanderers who leisurely walked throughout the park, some alone, others in pairs, while others pushed strollers with infants and toddlers too young for school.

She had only been sitting for three minutes or so when she
spotted the familiar figure in the distance wheeling down a major path. He waved to her as he neared. She felt a tightening in her stomach…and further down. She smiled as he approached. He'd always been handsome to her; no not handsome, actually beautiful in that preternatural way that some males were blessed with. And all he was dressed in was a shirt and jeans, and of course his ever-present scruff. The shirt clung to his torso in an inviting way. God, she had to get him naked.

He stopped his chair just inches from her legs. She was wearing a skirt today, but had forgone the pantyhose. Too warm.

"Hope you weren't waiting long," he said. Then he smiled and she took a breath that got stuck in her throat. She took another and this time it reached her lungs.

"No, I just got here a few minutes ago. So
, this is an interesting spot. Especially given the message. Trying to tell me something?" she asked, punctuating the question with a smile so that he wouldn't take the question seriously. It was too early to talk about either love or loss.

"No," he laughed. "It's one of the places I like to come to get some natural air and a little quiet. I think it's pretty cool what the museum has done with the place."

The museum was the Seattle Art Museum, colloquially referred to as SAM.
She loved their exhibits and often visited their main gallery to get inspiration.

"I've actually only seen just a bit of the shoreline at the park and the gallery. I can see the attraction here, though. So, why are we here?"

"To talk, just to talk. Mostly about what happened Saturday. And maybe what's going to happen," he said.

As much as she wanted to not talk about what happened, it was something that needed to be aired. Things had to be set straight from the get go.

"I want you to know I'm not in the habit of screwing with practical strangers or my students."

"Practical stranger?"

"Well, I've only known you for a few weeks, so yes."

"
And yet, you were intimate with me. Why?" he asked.

That was one of the questions she'd been asking herself since that afternoon.
And she hadn't been able to give herself a good answer.

A look of suspicion
crossed his face. "It wasn't out of pity, was it?"

"No, God no. I'd never do that out of pity. If I have to be honest…"

"Please do," he interrupted, the suspicion still there in his eyes, the turn of his brow.