Love's Illusions: A Novel (13 page)

Rising in silence, I headed for the shower. As the water tumbled over me I let my mind go blank. Michael pulled back the curtain and stepped in a few minutes later, still not saying a word. We kissed. The scratches on his back where I had broken the skin were deep, the bite on his arm wasn’t. I whispered an apology. Looking at the marks that were already starting to show on my arms and thighs he said, “me too.”

“It’s okay, I wanted you too,” I replied, ending the conversation.

I was tired, overtaken by fatigue. My mind was uncertain of anything, so confused by the events of the last couple days, and the act Michael and I had just performed. All I wanted to do was sleep, however; I could neither sleep nor stay awake. I rolled around in a fitful state of unrest for what seemed like an eternity. Somewhere in the wee hours before dawn I felt Michael kiss me and run his hands down my body. I know it happened, even though my mind refused to leave its half-conscious state. I remember wincing when he entered me this time; I have a foggy recollection of him saying something like, “I know, I’m sore too,” and stroking the hair out of my face. Then I slipped back into semi-sleep again.

I woke early, getting dressed as Michael continued to sleep. I was still drained, still an emotional wreck from all the pieces of my life that seemed to be in turmoil, not to mention the mental upheaval racing around my brain from our rough sex. He woke to the smell of coffee brewing. I found some bread in the sparsely stocked kitchen and popped it in the toaster. After some initial chit chat while we ate, neither of us mentioning anything about the night before, he asked, “Are you going back to the hospital today?”

“I’m not sure, but I don’t think so,” I replied. “I want a chance to talk to Mary Beth and Kent, if possible, before I go.”

He just nodded in agreement saying, “That sounds like a good plan.” We made arrangements to meet later for dinner at Vito’s. Michael would bring a couple bottles of wine – Evanston was a dry town, so if you wanted alcohol with dinner, you had to BYOB – and I headed home.

Mary Beth said she had been trying to get in touch with me when I answered the phone that afternoon. “Where were you last night?” she asked. I told her the complete saga from the hospital, and explained that I had spent the night at Michael’s place (not mentioning anything about my bruises), but adding, “I’m not sure what I’m going to do about him. I think he wants more than I can deal with… at least at this point.”

“Yeah, I coulda’ told ya that was happening – the bad boy is falling for you. Just don’t worry about it right now… it’s great sex, right?” she added.

“Hmph, yeah, my mind flashed to last night, ahhh, yes, but I don’t want to hurt him…”

“He’s a big boy, Jackie, he can take care of himself. Enjoy it while you can. I’m not sayin’ to treat him like that jerk with the names on the wall, but you’re not responsible for him. He’s known about Stephen from the start.”

“Gee, thanks for reminding me, I’d almost managed to forget that jackass existed,” I hissed back. She just laughed, saying she had to go to her study group, and suggested she and Kent meet us at Vito’s later – Kent had information for me.

My mind floated back to “the jackass” as I got ready to meet everyone for dinner, making sure I wore a long sleeved shirt. It happened shortly after I started at The Canteen, before meeting Michael – Levi and Rick were still flirting with me, competing to see which one was going to be the cause of my getting fired. Levi was not used to females rejecting him, even if it wasn’t personal as I had explained over and over. He was just too gorgeous and had too big an ego; it had to be satisfied somehow.

A friend of his showed up one night who was just as great looking as Levi – long, dirty blonde hair, green eyes, a fantastic smile and exuding confidence. Levi introduced us assuring me that he was a good guy. Next thing I knew, he was feeding me ludes and I was hanging on him in between serving drinks. We left the bar that night together; he was the first man I had touched sexually since Stephen, and only the second lover I’d ever had. Of course he didn’t know that – in the age of ‘sex, drugs and rock’ n roll’ that was unusual. It was exciting, and I was wasted. We ended up back at his apartment, a very nice place on one of the upper floors of a high rise just off Lake Shore Drive – it fit well with the person standing before me, telling me how much he wanted me. When we were done, he handed me a kind of magic marker, and turning on a black light that was perched over his bed told me to sign my name on the wall. My jaw dropped to the floor as what seemed like multitudes of female signatures came to life under the light. He had to keep prodding me to sign – I wrote Jack, underlining it as I asked him if this was like notches on his belt. He laughed; I left. He never came back to the bar. The next night when I showed up for work, Levi was smirking and said, “I knew you could be had.”

“Hmph,” I quipped back, “never said I couldn’t – just not by you.”

A parade of men followed in the wake of that night. My anger with Levi waned when I decided that women could have notches on their belts too, but I never completely forgave him – of the three, Charlie, Rick and Levi, he was the one I trusted the least. I often found myself wondering if he had names scrawled on his bedroom wall too. I decided he did
.

I remember it being exciting, not caring who I was with or where I was. Exciting and terrifying. I had never behaved anything like that before. All I knew for sure then was that I didn’t want to think about Stephen, our time together, marriage… anything. I just needed it all to go away, and being with a series of men – that I was using – seemed like the simplest way to keep those thoughts at bay. Nobody asked any questions, we were each notching our belts, signing a wall that could only be seen under a black light. Just another part of working at a scummy bar, another part of my double life – an escape I wanted to go on forever.

I stood in front of the mirror staring at myself, trying to figure out who I was. It had been so simple – ‘sex, drugs and rock n’ roll’; no problem except picking someone to go home with for the night, and there never seemed to be a shortage of guys to choose from. They taught me to enjoy sex, or at least I thought they did. I thought my sex life with Stephen was good, but of course I had nothing to compare it with. He didn’t seem to have any problems having sex with me; at least at first he seemed to want it. I remembered always feeling a tad shy with him, or maybe it was Stephen that was shy with me – the lights were always off, and although he’d touch me in sensual ways, maybe we were just awkward with each other, an awkwardness that we never managed to overcome. Sex with some of these assholes from the bar had been horrible, and I couldn’t wait to get the hell back to my own apartment – I always went to their place, never brought any of them to mine. For some reason I didn’t want them to know where I lived, didn’t want any of them to be part of my space. Sex with others was good – and those nights I stayed longer, but never all night, until I met Michael that is.

I kept trying to remember – had Stephen ever kissed the back of my neck the way Michael did now? Sex with Michael was wonderful; I didn’t feel used with him like I did with the random men – no belt notching. It felt like I’d had more sex with Michael in the six months we had known each other than Stephen and I had had in the five years of our relationship. Sex just wasn’t something Stephen seemed to want as much as Michael did.
Shit, this was all just too complicated,
I thought. Just go to dinner and think later.

Vito’s was one of my favorite places. The food was wonderful and it was cheap. I almost always ordered the baked spaghetti with meatballs and tonight was no exception.

The four of us met at 7:30 pm. Michael got along well with Mary Beth and Kent; we’d all hung out before. We’d gotten stoned and gone to concerts or dinner together many times. At first I was surprised that Michael and Kent got along as well as they did – they had almost zero in common except Kent liked Michael’s Mustang and in turn, Michael thought the Corvette Kent drove was a cool ride.

It was a good dinner, all of us laughing, enjoying each other’s company, telling jokes and swapping stories. As it wound down, but while we still had plenty of wine to finish, Kent took some papers from the inside breast pocket of his jacket. Sliding them across the table to me he said, “I photocopied some information on rectal fistulas for you at the library.” The table hushed as I picked them up. He looked at me and continued, “Put them in your pocketbook – you can read it later, and I can explain anything you don’t understand if you give me a call.” He paused giving Michael a sidelong glance.

“It’s okay, you can say… I mean, you can talk in front of him, he knows everything,” I replied. “Unless you’re practicing for when you’re a real doctor who won’t even talk to a wife,” I quipped meaning it to be a joke.

It fell flat. Kent gave me a half-smile, as Mary Beth said, “You know that doctor couldn’t talk to you – Stephen could sue him. You’re lucky that nurse let it slip, or you wouldn’t know what you do.”

“I know, you’re right; I’m not upset with the doctor. If I was reading his face right, he wasn’t very happy with Stephen for not telling him about me. I’m sorry Kent, I didn’t mean to… I guess I’m not handling all this too well. I’m almost afraid to read this stuff,” I said smiling back, but letting my eyes fall to the papers on the table.

“It’s okay, I’m not sure I’d like finding out this stuff this way either. But Jackie, no matter how you found out, the truth here is that
most likely
Stephen is making up the story about falling off a ladder.”

Looking up, I asked Kent, “Can you tell me anymore?”

“Sure. What those papers say is that a fissure or fistula is a tear or thinning of the skin. They can happen almost anywhere on your body, but when they are in the anal canal they can be painful, and cause a bunch of different problems. It’s a significant medical issue because it allows feces to pass outside the bowel, poisoning the rest of your system. It’s a serious condition.”

“And it doesn’t happen from falling off a ladder, right?” I asked.

“Well I guess it may be possible, but odds are against it.”

I hesitated for a second then pushed on asking in a steady, but rather hushed voice, “What does cause it then?”

Kent raised his eyebrows, looked at Mary Beth as if to ask if he should say anymore. Getting a nodding blink from her in return, he went on, “I’m just going to say this straight out… your asshole’s meant for stuff to come out – not go in. Most of the time gay guys get this because of rough anal sex, and putting things that are just too Goddamn big up their butts!” He wiggled around in his chair as he was speaking, his voice as animated as his eyes.

Mary Beth and Michael, neither of whom were expecting him to put it in quite those terms, almost burst trying to stifle their laughter, as I said, “You’re going to have to work on your bedside manner, Kent.” At that, there was no choking it back… the table erupted.

Before leaving Vito’s, Mary Beth also updated me on what she’d heard from Ronnie. He indeed had run into Stephen in Harvard Square, and had let him crash at his place. In fact, Stephen had wanted to move in so he wouldn’t have to go back to his mother’s house at all, but Ronnie said no. According to Ronnie, Stephen spent his time cruising the gay bars in Boston, even bringing some guy back to Ronnie’s place one night. This guy had something to do with American Airlines and Ronnie thought he was the one that arranged a flight for Stephen back to Chicago.

“Jackie, you know Ronnie came out of the closet after we graduated high school. He said to tell you that Stephen is definitely gay and always has been – you just never knew before.”

My mind could barely hear the words, ‘you just never knew before’, let alone comprehend their meaning. I poured another glass of Riesling, emptying the bottle, gulping it down, not objecting at all when Michael suggested that we all head off someplace where we could smoke instead. I had the information I asked for – now I needed to confront Stephen and get him to admit the truth.

“I’m not going back to the hospital,” I told Michael the next morning. “I’m going to wait until he’s out, and talk to him at Joe’s place.”

“Are you sure? It might be better to do it at the hospital where there’s a lot of people around,” he suggested.

“True, but I doubt if I’m gonna be able to stay calm… The nurses would throw me out if I yelled at him, and besides, I’m not sure I can face them. Tuesday was friggin’ humiliating.”

“You have nothin’ to be humiliated about. He’s the one who should be humiliated,” he replied giving me a hug. “Will you promise me something?”

“What?”

“That you’ll let me know when you go.”

“I’m going alone…”

“I understand that,” he interrupted. “I’m not asking to go with you – I don’t want to, I just want to know when you’re going, and not find out that you’ve done it after it’s over.”

“Why?”

“Because I don’t think you should be alone right after you see him again. If you don’t want to tell me, then at least promise you’ll tell Mary Beth, okay? Is that reasonable?” he asked. I nodded in agreement. “Good, I’ve got to go – a client is coming into the garage.” He leaned over to give me a kiss and a quick wink. “See ya later, beautiful.”

When the door closed, I wandered around my own apartment as if I was lost. I was exhausted, not physically, but mentally, my brain hurt. I had classes this afternoon and knew I should get ready to go to school – I had blown off two days already – but all I wanted to do was sleep. I had read the information Kent gave me last night and decided to read it again. Bits and pieces of articles or textbooks or wherever he’d taken it from kept floating through my mind. And what the fuck did Ronnie mean by
I never knew!
I popped a couple Valium and went to bed – another day of classes blown off.