Anatomy of a Boyfriend (19 page)

Wes sits up. ―Now your turn.‖

―You sure?‖

―Hell yeah, I‘ve been wanting to for months, but you said you wouldn‘t let me until you did it to me first. So now you did.‖

―I did, didn‘t I?‖ I smile.

Unfortunately, it takes a while before we find a comfortable position. First he kneels over me, but this doesn‘t work because my privates do not project up and out like his. Then I try sitting in one of the steel dinette chairs as he kneels on the floor in front of me, but before he touches me I tell him I can‘t relax this way—the seat‘s too hard and cold. Finally I get back on the bed and let my legs hang off the edge. Wes kneels at the foot of the bed and I rest my thighs on his shoulders. This feels right.

Before he starts, he tells me, ―Just so you know, I‘ve never gone down on a Tulanian before.‖

I grab a pillow and whack him over the head.

―You‘ve never gone down on
anyone
before, ever.‖

―I know, I know.‖ He grins.

Then I remember. ―Wait. In my purse, you‘ll find some dental dams I bought. They‘re strawberry flavored too. Your favorite.‖

―C‘mon, Dom.‖ Wes sits back on the floor. ―We don‘t need that stuff. I want to taste you, not latex.‖

―Please, though? It‘d make me feel better knowing we‘re being completely safe.‖

―You know neither of us has been with anyone else. And in truth, it‘d probably ‗feel better‘

without the stupid dams, but you‘re the boss.‖

He seems really pissed, so as he rummages through my purse, I say, ―Actually, just forget about the dams.‖

―You sure?‖

―Yeah…well, you don‘t have any cold sores or anything now, do you?‖

―You sure know how to keep a guy turned on, Dr. Dom.‖

I sit up, wanting to slap myself. ―You‘re right, I‘m sorry. I…I don‘t know why I have to be like that. I really didn‘t mean to wreck the mood.‖

―Calm down, will you? I was just teasing you. Lie back down and keep quiet. I have work to do,‖ he says sternly as he rips open the dam‘s packaging.

Amy says oral sex is the absolute best thing a guy can do to a girl. And she‘s right—there‘s none of the pain of penetration. Sex with Wes didn‘t stop hurting until the eleventh time we did it, back in July. Even after that it was often uncomfortable, especially in the beginning. But tonight, for the first time ever I sense a nice, light, pulsing sensation down there that makes me arch my back, and I can feel my face get flushed. I wrap my legs around his head and try to move with him, but suddenly I lose the feeling and don‘t regain it.

Maybe Wes is right about the dam dulling the pleasure. Or maybe Amy‘s right that I‘m too self-conscious. But maybe it‘s not that simple. What if I‘m frigid? Or what if all my nerve endings down there just don‘t work? I was always scared I damaged myself that time in seventh-grade gym class when I was walking across the balance beam and tripped, falling straight down onto it with my legs at either side. Maybe I‘ll never come, ever.

I can tell Wes is starting to get tired, so I decide to fake it. I feel bad, but supposedly women do it all the time, and I want Wes to feel like he‘s doing well. I also don‘t want him to think I‘m some asexual freak. I tousle his hair with my hands and wrap my legs around him tighter as I mimic the moans I heard Caitlin make that weekend I stayed with her and Chapin. Finally I yell,

―Yes, Wes…YEEEES!‖

A couple seconds later his face pops up between my legs. I‘ve never seen him so pleased with himself before.

―Not bad for my first try, eh, Dom? I knew I had it in me.‖

―Mmm,‖ I sigh, lounging on the bed. ―That was wonderful.‖

Wes lies down next to me and holds me, but after just a few seconds he says, ―Paul called before and said a bunch of trackies are meeting at Bellini‘s around nine. Why don‘t we meet them there?‖

―Oh…Well, I was sorta hoping we could spend this evening alone.‖

―I know, but it‘ll be fun to see everyone again. Maybe Braff will be there.‖

―No, she won‘t. She‘s spending Thanksgiving with Joel and his family in Wichita.‖

―If you‘re not up for it, I can drop you home first.‖

―What? No, Wes, I‘m game. Really.‖

―Cool. But before we do‖—he traces the outlines of my lips—―can you, uh…again?‖

This time I skip the condom, even though I yelled at Amy God knows how many times back in high school for routinely having unprotected oral sex with her random hookups. But Wes isn‘t random. And right now all I care about is how good I can make him feel, how close we are right now. I‘m able to swallow most of his semen as it shoots into my mouth, and I‘m surprised at the lack of taste given how much stuff is in it—glucose, fructose, vitamin C, vitamin B12, sulphur, zinc, potassium, magnesium, calcium, copper. It‘s like a perverted multivitamin.

Dinner at Bellini‘s turns into dessert at The Bubble Room, which turns into driving to Paul‘s beach house for drinks, which turns into last man standing. I had no idea Wes had become so much more outgoing. We‘re in a big group, at least fifteen people, and for the first time he‘s carrying the conversation and smiling confidently.

At two a.m. on the ride home from Paul‘s, Wes says, ―You were awfully quiet, Dom. Were you bored out of your mind?‖

―No, no, I was just tired from the plane. I had a good time, really…anyway, let‘s make plans.

Tomorrow I‘ll be busy all day with my family for Thanksgiving. But how ‘bout we spend Friday and Saturday at Captiva?‖

―Eh, the problem is I waited too long to book plane tickets, so the only flight I was able to get back to the City is Saturday morning, not Sunday.‖

―Oh…that really sucks, Wes.‖

―You‘re telling me, but I‘m free Friday after the barber.‖

―Um, okay, yeah, I‘ll take what I can get.‖

―Cool. I‘ll give you a call Friday, say, around oneish?‖

―Sure.‖

Before getting out of the car in front of my building, I lean over and kiss him. ―Happy Thanksgiving, Wes. I have a lot to be thankful for.‖

―Me too, Dom.‖ Wes winks at me.

Five minutes later I‘m at my computer.

Dear Wes,

First let me say that I completely expected that college would change things a little. And I feel bad complaining, because I did have a good time with you just now and so many things did go right between us. But the fact you were willing to sacrifice part of the night to see old track friends was strange (especially now that you‘re leaving town early). And it‘s not like you spent all that much time with them outside of meets last year. I appreciate your trying to include me in the conversation tonight, but I never got to know these people well and I don‘t get all their little in-jokes, so understandably I couldn‘t think of anything to contribute. I‘m sorry if my reticence bothered you, but c‘mon, you used to be reticent too. Anyway, I guess I felt we were a little off tonight, and I wanted you to know so we can work on fixing it, which I know we will. I‘m looking forward to having time just for us on Friday.

I love you always and forever, Dominique

I‘m about to pressSEND when I realize I‘m being unreasonable. All Wes was trying to do was maintain his old friendships. And so what if being at NYU is making Wes less reserved? I should be applauding that, not condemning it. I delete the e-mail and go to bed.

31

F
riday, the day after Thanksgiving, Wes doesn‘t call me at one like he promised he would. I pick up the phone to call him but stop myself. I don‘t want to appear possessive or overanxious.

I‘m really angry, though. Maybe I should have sent that e-mail after all.

On top of everything, I develop a monster headache waiting for the phone to ring. As I‘m searching my parents‘ bathroom drawers for Tylenol, I come across Mom‘s diaphragm. The mental image of my parents doing it when I‘ve been waiting all day to do it with Wes is probably the biggest mood-spoiler imaginable, and it takes three tablets before my skull stops feeling like it‘s being crushed.

When I finally do hear from Mr. Elusive, four hours after the promised time, he sounds completely depressed.

―Wes, are you sure you‘re up for hanging out tonight?‖

―Yeah.‖

―Are you just in a prolonged food coma or something?‖ I ask, trying to make him laugh.

Instead, he takes a deep breath. ―I‘ll be over soon.‖

When I get in Wes‘s Explorer, he looks as bad as he sounded. I ask him if he‘s okay, and he says he‘s just tired.

―Look, Wes.‖ I take out a Tupperware container from my bag. ―Chocolate-dipped strawberries!‖

―Thanks, Dom.‖ But he doesn‘t ask to eat one. He doesn‘t say anything else on the drive to Captiva either. I think back to when we went parking, the night the cop caught us. He was really despondent when he picked me up then too, but it was only because he was lovesick. Maybe this is the same thing?

When we get to the condo, Wes curls up on the bed and stares into space. I tentatively start massaging his scalp and neck, and when he leans into me I move to his shoulders and back, and finally his feet. A few minutes later I work my hands to his crotch, but he‘s still silent and soft. I lie down behind him, wrapping my right leg over his and wedging my left arm between his neck and the bed so that I can hold him tightly with both arms. I have absolutely no idea what‘s going on or what to do. Maybe it‘s me.

―I like your haircut,‖ I whisper, running my fingers through it. ―You look more like the old you.‖

He doesn‘t answer.

―You know what was really cool? Yesterday morning, I woke up and my lips were swollen from kissing you. I really miss that feeling at college.‖

He still doesn‘t answer.

―Oh, I forgot to tell you. Right before I left I found out I got an A-minus on my last biology test!

I‘m so relieved. I may be able to pull up my grades after all.‖

Still nothing.

―You know, if I did or said something wrong, if I upset you in any way, I hope you‘d tell me.

Please tell me what I can do,‖ I say desperately.

Wes releases himself from my grasp and buries his head in the pillow. It‘s the first time I‘ve ever seen him cry. His shoulders shake as muffled sobs fill the room.

―Please, Wes, I feel so helpless right now. What‘s wrong?‖

―Jeh…sih…ca.‖

Oh God. You’re in love with her, aren’t you? You’ve been cheating on me. I always suspected it.

My voice quavers as I speak. ―Jessica? Isn‘t she with her family in Texas now?‖

He turns around to face me. ―Not her.‖

―Well, who—Oh.‖ The dog! ―Oh no!…Is she okay?‖

He doesn‘t answer.

―Is she…?‖

He nods and cries even louder, his head now on my shoulder. I turn my face away to hide my look of relief that his sadness has nothing to do with me.

―Oh, I‘m so, so sorry. I know she hasn‘t been doing so well for a while, but I had no idea she was that ill.‖

―She wasn‘t…. She seemed fine yesterday…but she started having problems breathing this morning…while I was at the barber…. My dad rushed her to the vet…. She had extensive…pulmonary…meta—, meta—‖

―Metastasis?‖

He nods.

―That‘s awful! Did she, um, go naturally or was she put to, you know?‖

―To sleep. The vet said she was suffering.‖

―Poor Jessica. And this all happened today?‖

He nods. ―This afternoon. I wasn‘t with her when she died. I should‘ve been. Some Thanksgiving vacation.‖

I think back to Calvin‘s warning about the first trip home being strange. That‘s turning out to be the understatement of the year.

As Wes continues to whimper, I try to make him feel better by reminding him that Jessica lived to an old age, and that her longevity is proof that she had an easy, wonderful life.

―Honestly, Wes, you were the best owner any pet could ever ask for.‖

Wes sits up and for the first time in our relationship looks at me hatefully.

―Owner? She was
family.
‖

―Of course,‖ I say quickly, startled at his anger. ―Of course I mean family. All I meant was she had the best life a dog could desire, and you should take comfort in that.‖

His brow furrows like he‘s thinking about this, and then he slowly sinks back down into the pillow.

I hold him for the next three hours as he alternates between sleep and crying. When he wakes up to the grandfather clock striking ten, he turns over and hugs me.

―Hey. I‘m sorry to be a downer, I‘m just really, really sad.‖

―It‘s totally fine. You‘re experiencing a massive loss. I just wish there were something I could do or say.‖

―Thanks for being here. That‘s enough.‖

We hold hands while we take a short walk along the beach. I wish he would lift his gaze from the ground to take in the beautiful starlit sky and water, but it‘s understandable he can‘t appreciate any of that right now. I tell myself I‘m a really horrible person for being disappointed.

My boyfriend‘s dealing with the most traumatic thing that has ever happened to him; meanwhile, I‘m just annoyed the dog died during the only time Wes and I have had together in three months.

I‘m still glad to be with him, but we haven‘t exactly created any new good memories.

At midnight we‘re in front of my apartment. Wes‘s flight is in eight hours.

―I hate this part,‖ I say when I walk around to the Explorer‘s driver‘s side window. ―Here, take these strawberries for the plane.‖

―Thanks. Again, I‘m sorry, Dom.‖

―No, no,
I’m
sorry about Jessica. I‘m just happy I got to see you. Tell your family I said hi, okay?‖

―Sure. Tell your fam I said hey.‖

―I will. I still can‘t believe you have to leave tomorrow, with everything you‘re going through.‖

―I think it will actually be good to go back to school,‖ Wes says pensively, staring straight ahead. ―It‘ll help get my mind off it.‖

―Yeah. I‘m going to miss you a lot, though. I‘m just looking forward to winter break. That‘s four whole weeks together.‖

He nods. ―That‘ll be nice.‖

I lean over to kiss him. He restarts the engine. I just can‘t hold it in.

―I love you,‖ I bleat as he puts the car into drive.

Please say it. It was bad enough I had to first.

As he rolls up the window, he mouths, ―I love you.‖